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fairytalesandlegacies · 7 months

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Trust Fall

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

Summary:

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

✨ Read On AO3 or below the cut ✨

Trust Fall

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You try again.

"Seb—"

"Bash—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sebastian looks at you like you've gone mad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sebastian turns to look at you, eyes narrowing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The golden foal snorts and shakes his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Here…with you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sebastian glances at you, one eyebrow arched in amusement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your lips quirk up in a smug smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sebastian blinks, eyebrows jumping to his hairline.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sebastian puts his hands up in surrender.

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

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

Sebastian breathes a sigh of relief and nods in gratitude.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He takes a deep breath, grounding himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Sebastian's sincerity only grew stronger.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You'd never seen a doorknocker look so exhausted.

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

Now that's one hell of a riddle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are— are you sure?" you ask warily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your lips pull up in a small, grateful smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ready?" he asks.

"Ready," you reply.

Sebastian raises his wand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sebastian looks relieved and disappointed all at once.

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

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

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

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

"Cheeky," he chuckles, shaking his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

So you hadn't imagined it, then.

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

Kiss me.

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

Sebastian wanted you to kiss him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sebastian blinks at you, confused.

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

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

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

"How long?" he asks.

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

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

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

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

Sebastian's lips pull up into a playful smile.

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

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

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

Sebastian snorts with laughter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Devilishly so."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sebastian falters, nerves ramping up again.

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

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

Sebastian nods, breathing out on a sigh of relief.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sebastian's lips quirk up in a playful grin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If only he knew…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sebastian lets out a sigh of relief.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He can't lose you too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are— are you sure?"

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

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

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

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

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

"God, yes. Please, Sebastian—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I love you too."

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

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

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

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

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

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #forbiddenfairytales #forbiddenxfairytales #fanfiction #fairytales fanfiction #trust fall

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thekidsarentalright · 1 year

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I could barely focus during that last song because my brain went full mother hen mode and I was too worried about if something went wrong with the literal fire on their heads!!!!! It was cool but also wtf!?

i feel this sm actually like after my initial reaction of. laughing bc oh my god what the hell are they doing??? i was immediately thinking like they better be so careful that seems so dangerous?? and uncomfortable?? 😭 i’m glad nothing Did go wrong tho and it was just funny. the lengths these men will go to be silly i swear

#asks #keeper-of-the-falling-stars

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kaynothanks · 7 months

Text

THE BARGAIN STORE

Pairing: Loki x goddess!reader

Summary: You, a goddess hiding on Earth, encounter Loki, who eons ago vowed to kill you. Loki never was one to keep his word.

Warnings: (18+ mdni) loki, what else? the smut just happened, i don’t even know how (yes, I do), oral (f receiving), loki has ulterior motives, mention of blood (lip), unprotected p in v, vaginal fingering

Word-Count: 6.5 k

Nobody suspected anything. Never had. For the past few decades, you had been the owner of your little shop, after spending many centuries on the run.

Throughout centuries, there had been wars and revolutions, plagues and remedies. You had stood witness to them all. Watched from the distance as civilizations went into ruin and new ones emerged. You had made sure not to get too involved. It wasn’t your place; not your planet and not your people. Still, you had been on earth for a big part of your lifespan. In your world, you weren’t anything special, a sheep in a broad herd. And you had had enough of it. So, you had left. Ran from your responsibilities, bid no goodbyes and settled for something less.

Centuries had woven themselves into the very fabric of your being, each era a thread in the intricate tapestry of your existence. You had been many things: a whisper in the wind, a shadow in the twilight, a force as ancient and unyielding as the stars themselves. Yet, for the last few decades, you had chosen a far simpler, more unassuming role—a shopkeeper, tending to a quaint little establishment nestled on a serene street, far removed from the cacophony of the bustling city that surrounded it.

Your shop was a sanctuary, not just for you, but for all who sought refuge within its walls. From the outside, it appeared no different from any other boutique that dealt in herbs, teas, and the occasional curious trinket. However, its essence was imbued with something far more ancient, a magic that hummed quietly beneath the surface, perceptible only to those who truly believed or those who, like you, were of another world entirely.

This little shop was your haven, a place where you could be both less and more than what you were. Here, you were not the goddess who had danced among the stars, who had witnessed the rise and fall of empires, who had fled from a war that threatened to consume her very soul. Here, you were simply the keeper of secrets, of remedies both mundane and magical, offering solace to the weary and the lost.

Your reasons for choosing this existence were manifold, but at their core lay a desire for peace, for a semblance of normalcy in a life that had been anything but. You had grown weary of the endless conflicts that had defined your existence, of the power struggles that had torn apart realms and ravaged worlds. Earth, with all its simplicity and complexity, offered a respite, a place where you could hide in plain sight among its inhabitants, who remained blissfully unaware of the greater cosmos that swirled around them.

The shop became a reflection of your desire for tranquility. Its walls were lined with shelves laden with jars and bottles, each containing herbs and potions that held whispers of your old world. You delighted in the mundane tasks of tending to your plants, mixing herbs, and brewing teas, finding a sense of purpose in the healing and comfort your creations provided. Your customers, none the wiser to the true nature of your being, were drawn to your shop by an inexplicable pull, leaving with remedies for their ailments and, sometimes, a lighter heart.

For years, this life had been enough. You had convinced yourself that you could forget, that you could move beyond the past and forge a new existence among the humans you had come to cherish. But the past, as it often does, refused to remain buried. It came for you on an unremarkable day, shattering the peace you had so carefully built with the ringing of the shop's bell and the entrance of a figure from a life you had tried to leave behind.

Loki's arrival was a storm on the horizon, a harbinger of chaos that threatened to upend the world you had created. The God of Mischief, with his piercing gaze and sly grin, embodied everything you had fled from: the power, the destruction, the endless machinations of gods and men. His presence in your shop, a place that had been untouched by the affairs of gods for so long, was a stark reminder that one could never truly escape their nature or their past.

The last time you had seen Loki, it was on the battlefield. You had been on opposing sides, and his last words to you were a vow of death. Yet, here he stood, looking around your shop with a curious gleam in his eyes, not having recognized you yet. Or had he? With Loki, one could never be too sure. You steadied yourself, the mask of the shopkeeper sliding effortlessly into place. "Can I help you find anything?" Your voice was calm, betraying none of the turmoil inside.

Loki turned his attention to you, his green eyes piercing. For a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of recognition, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. "I'm looking for something unique," he declared, the silk of his voice wrapping around you like a familiar shroud. His steps were measured as he approached, the predator within barely leashed. "A gift for someone who values... rare items."

You couldn't help but wonder who Loki would consider worthy of a gift. Your curiosity, however, was a dangerous thing, especially around him. "I have a few rare herbs and special tea blends. If you're looking for something more unique, perhaps a potion or two? Depending on what you wish to achieve." You kept your tone neutral, professional.

It was a game of cat and mouse, and you both knew it. Loki's lips twitched into a smile, and he moved closer, his gaze never leaving yours. "And what would you recommend for someone seeking... forgiveness?"

The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, the mask slipped. Loki was asking for forgiveness? From whom? The thought that it might be you crossed your mind, but you dismissed it just as quickly. "Forgiveness is not easily obtained by potions alone. It requires sincerity and action. But," you paused, turning to fetch a small, unassuming bottle from a shelf behind you, "this may aid in opening the heart to forgiveness, making it more receptive."

He took the bottle, examining it with a thoughtful expression. "And what do you seek, shopkeeper? What would you have me pay for this aid?"

"Peace," the word slipped out before you could stop it. It was the truth, however. Peace was all you had sought by coming to Earth, peace from your past, from the endless battles and politics of gods.

"A tall order," Loki mused, placing the bottle down and stepping closer, invading your personal space. "But perhaps not impossible."

The tension between you was palpable, a dance of curiosity, old grudges, and unspoken questions. "Why are you here, Loki?" you dared to ask, needing to know his purpose. Your heart raced, not just from surprise but from a resurgence of a darker thrill you thought you had buried deep within. The life you had led before, filled with power plays and destruction, beckoned with a seductive finger through Loki's emerald gaze. As Loki dared to step closer, crossing the invisible boundary you had mentally drawn around yourself, a surge of defiance ignited within you. Your heart raced, not solely with fear but with the resurgence of a power you had long kept dormant. With a thought as sharp as a whispered incantation, you summoned a dagger into existence. It materialized in your hand, its golden blade gleaming with a light that spoke of ancient magics and forgotten realms. This was no mere weapon but a relic of your divine heritage, a testament to the might you once wielded freely.

You didn't hesitate. The years had taught you caution, yes, but they had also honed your instincts, sharpened them into lethal points. As Loki advanced, a smile playing on his lips as if he were merely a predator toying with his prey, you struck. The movement was fluid, a dance you had performed countless times across the battlegrounds of the stars. The blade sliced through the air, aimed with deadly precision at the figure before you.

But the strike met no resistance. Instead, the dagger sliced through the illusion, the projection of Loki dissipating into nothingness, leaving behind only the faintest traces of his magic in the air. It was a trick, a mere sleight of hand from the God of Mischief, and you had fallen for it. A cold realization washed over you, a reminder of Loki's cunning, of the depths of his power which, it seemed, had only grown over the years.

Before you could recover, before you could even curse your own folly, arms enveloped you from behind. It was an embrace as familiar as it was unexpected, one that spoke of countless lifetimes and entwined destinies. His hand snaked around your waist, securing you against him with an intimacy that belied the years of separation and the shadow of past betrayals. The other hand, firm and unyielding, gripped hold of your wrist, effortlessly disarming you of the dagger you had conjured. Its golden light flickered and died, leaving you exposed, vulnerable in a way that went beyond the physical.

Loki's breath was warm against your neck, his presence a cloak of inevitability you found yourself powerless to resist. "How I have missed you, darling," he murmured, the words vibrating against your skin, a mix of threat and endearment. In that moment, with Loki's arms around you and his voice weaving spells of its own, you were transported back across the aeons, to a time when love and war were intermingled, and your fate was inseparably tied to the whims of gods.

The realization that the figure you had attacked was but a projection, a mere echo of Loki's true self, sank in with a weight that was almost suffocating. It was a reminder of his mastery over illusions, over the realities he could weave with a mere thought. Yet, the arms that held you, the breath that teased the hairs at the nape of your neck, they were undeniably real. This was no illusion but the god himself, in flesh and blood, as tangible as the tumultuous history you shared.

The conflict within you, a storm of emotions and memories, raged with renewed intensity. Loki's proximity, his touch, it reignited flames you thought had long since turned to ash. But this was not the time for reminiscences, for getting lost in what had been. The immediate truth was that Loki, the very being who had once vowed your destruction, now held you within his grasp, not as an enemy, but with a possessiveness that spoke of deeper, more complex intentions.

As his hand released your wrist, letting the vanished dagger be forgotten, you were left to grapple with the reality of his return. His words, laden with an emotion you couldn't quite decipher, echoed in the silence that followed. Was it a declaration, a manipulation, or something in between? With Loki, the lines were always blurred, the truth as shifting as the sands of time. The shop around you, once a sanctuary of peace, now felt like a stage set for a confrontation centuries in the making. The tranquility you had so carefully cultivated was shattered, replaced by the crackling energy of a storm about to break. Loki's presence, both familiar and foreboding, promised nothing and everything, a paradox that was his very essence.

Still ensnared in Loki's unexpected embrace, his words lingering in the air between you, a whirlwind of emotions battled within you. Anger, betrayal, and a flicker of something dangerously akin to longing. His presence, his closeness, was overwhelming, yet you found the clarity to make a choice. You would play his game, match his deceit with your own cunning, even as thoughts of vengeance danced just beneath the surface of your composed exterior.

Turning your head to face him, you allowed the moment to stretch, to teeter on the edge of something neither of you could fully grasp. Your lips hovered so close to his, the heat of his breath mingling with yours, a tantalizing promise of what could be. "Have you now, my love?" The words slipped from your lips, laced with a venom sweetened by the honeyed guise of affection. It was a challenge, a provocation, delivered with the precision of one who knew just how to stir the god of mischief.

Loki responded not with words, but with action. He hummed, a sound that vibrated with a multitude of unspoken thoughts and desires, before leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss. It was a bold move, one that sought to bridge centuries of separation and silence with the intimacy of a moment. The kiss was a fusion of past and present, a clash of wills and desires, as complex and enigmatic as Loki himself.

Yet, as his lips moved against yours, a part of you recoiled, a reminder of the chasm that lay between what was and what could never be. With a resolve as cold and sharp as a blade, your hand found its way into the silk of his dark locks. You allowed yourself a brief second, a heartbeat, to feel the warmth of him, to breathe in the scent that was undeniably Loki, before your fingers curled into a fist, gripping tightly.

With a swift, decisive motion, you pulled him away, breaking the kiss, severing the illusion of reconciliation and intimacy. "I don't believe you for a second," you hissed, the words dark and laden with all the unspoken truths and lies that had accumulated over the years. It was a declaration of war as much as it was a rejection, a line drawn in the sand that marked the boundary between past affections and present distrust.

Loki, taken aback by the suddenness of your rejection, the intensity of your grip, could only stare, the mask of charm and seduction slipping to reveal a glimpse of the genuine surprise and, perhaps, a flicker of a bruised ego beneath his mask. The god of mischief, so accustomed to being the orchestrator of deceit, found himself momentarily at a loss, caught in the web of his own making. The air between you crackled with tension, charged with the electricity of a storm on the horizon. In that moment, with the remnants of the kiss still lingering like a phantom touch upon your lips, the complexity of your relationship with Loki was laid bare. It was a tapestry woven with threads of love and hatred, betrayal and longing, each stitch a testament to the turbulent history you shared.

Your defiance, your refusal to succumb to the seduction of a momentary weakness, set the stage for what was to come. It was a declaration that you were no longer the deity who had fled, who had sought refuge in the shadows of anonymity. You were a force to be reckoned with, a player in the game of gods, and Loki would do well to remember that.

Loki's response to your defiance was as swift as it was unpredictable. His initial surprise at your resistance melted away into that all-too-familiar grin, a mischievous curve of his lips that had always heralded trouble. The atmosphere shifted palpably, charged with a tension that was as much about power as it was about the unresolved history simmering between you. He advanced, the godly aura that clung to him making the air around you thrum with energy. His approach was deliberate, each step calculated to intimidate and enthrall in equal measure. You found yourself retreating until the solid form of the front desk halted your escape, the mundane reality of your shop a stark contrast to the unfolding drama.

Loki's fingers, cool and assertive, found the hem of your clothes, tugging with a playful yet disapproving frown. "I must confess, I find myself at odds with your choice of attire," he remarked, his voice a low purr that vibrated with an undercurrent of something darker. "These... mundane garments do not suit you. I miss the dresses of old, the ones that whispered secrets against your skin, the ones I could remove with but a thought." His words were a deliberate provocation, designed to unnerve and reminisce a past intimacy that had once been.

Before you could muster a retort or push him away, he lifted you with an ease that spoke of his godly strength, sitting you atop the counter with a possessive certainty. The action was bold, an invasion of personal space that he seemed to relish, watching for your reaction, gauging how far he could push before you snapped. His behavior, this blend of familiarity and threat, placed you at a crossroads. Part of you, the part hardened by centuries of hiding and surviving, screamed for caution, for you to summon your powers and push him away, to reinforce the boundaries he so blatantly disregarded. Yet, another part, perhaps the part that had once known him more intimately, that remembered the complexity of his character, urged you to wait, to use this proximity to your advantage.

The realization dawned on you then, amid the tension and the charged air, that Loki's tactics had shifted because he needed something from you. His words, his actions, were part of a larger game, one that involved merely his goal, and by extension, you. It was a game of manipulation, of old affections twisted into new strategies, but it was also a game you could play.

"So, you miss the past," you found yourself saying, voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling within you. Your eyes locked with his, a challenge laid bare. "But the past is a realm even you cannot return to, Loki. We are not who we once were, and desires... desires can be as fleeting as they are dangerous." It was a gamble, invoking both your shared history and the undeniable tension of the present. You sought to remind him that you were not the same deity he had once known, that you had grown and changed, just as he had. In this dance of words and wills, you were not just the prey he might have assumed you to be; you were a player in your own right, with your own cards yet to be revealed.

The next move was his, and the air between you crackled with the anticipation of it.

Loki's gaze, a maelstrom of green, held yours with an intensity that bordered on the palpable, each flicker of emotion a testament to the centuries that had shaped him. His response, when it came, was threaded with the weight of ages and the depth of a god's desires.

"My yearning for you," he began, his voice a low thrum that seemed to echo with the gravitas of eons passed, "has never been of the fleeting kind. It is as enduring as the stars that light our skies, as unyielding as the fabric of reality itself. To suggest otherwise is to misunderstand the very nature of my being."

With these words, he sank to his knees before you, an act so filled with symbolic surrender and yet charged with an undercurrent of strategy. In this position, Loki, the god of mischief, the architect of chaos, positioned himself in a posture of fealty—or so it seemed. Yet, you knew better than to take the gesture at face value. Loki was many things, but straightforward was not one of them. Every action, every word, was laced with layers of meaning, designed to manipulate and coax the desired response from those he engaged with.

His move was bold, a calculated risk meant to disarm and perhaps to remind you of the dynamics that had once defined your interactions. It was an acknowledgment of your power, your importance in this intricate game he was playing. Yet, it was also unmistakably a ploy, a way to close the distance between you, to weave a narrative of shared history and unresolved tension.

The air around you seemed charged, thick with the history and the palpable tension of the moment. Loki, on his knees, looking up at you with an intensity that spoke of genuine desire mixed with the ever-present calculation, presented a picture of vulnerability. Yet, you were not so easily swayed. You knew the depths of his cunning, the lengths he would go to achieve his ends. His admission, cloaked in the grandiosity of his age and station, left you with a choice. To engage, to allow yourself to be drawn back into the orbit of his world, his plans, or to hold firm, to remember the reasons for your distance, for the life you had chosen away from the machinations of gods and their games.

The moment stretched, a tableau of tension and possibility, as you weighed your response, acutely aware of the stakes, of the game that was afoot, and of Loki, who knelt before you, a god cloaked in the guise of a supplicant, yet undeniably dangerous, undeniably compelling.

As Loki knelt before you, the atmosphere thick with tension and unspoken words, you made a decision. Lifting your leg, the black of your heeled shoes catching the light and glinting ominously, you pushed against his shoulder. It was a gesture meant to distance, to assert your autonomy against his sudden show of vulnerability or manipulation—whichever it truly was. Your voice, when it came, was laced with a mixture of resolve and undeniable truth, a reflection of the complex dance that had always defined your interactions.

"Your desire for me," you began, your words deliberate, "could never hope to keep pace with your lust for your myriad schemes and machinations, my love." The term of endearment, spoken so, carried a weight of irony, a nod to the past entanglements and the understanding that, for Loki, the pursuit of his goals often overshadowed everything else.

Yet, instead of acquiescing to the push, of allowing himself to be dismissed so easily, Loki's reaction was to tighten his grasp on the situation—quite literally. His hands, those instruments of mischief and manipulation, found your leg, his touch bold as he held you in place. Then, with an audacity that was quintessentially Loki, he pressed his lips against your calf in a kiss that was as shocking as it was calculated. It was an act of defiance, a refusal to be pushed away, and a statement of his intent all at once.

This gesture, so intimate and yet so brazen, served multiple purposes. It was a challenge to your autonomy, a test of your boundaries, and an undeniable declaration of his continued interest. Yet, it was also unmistakably Loki—crossing lines, blurring boundaries, and always, always pushing for more than what was offered. The action left you momentarily stunned, grappling with the rush of emotions it elicited. Anger, irritation, an unwelcome surge of something more confusing, all mingled together. It was a reminder of the power he wielded, not just through his magic, but through his very presence, his ability to unnerve and to provoke.

In that moment, the complexity of your relationship with Loki was laid bare once more. It was a tangled web of attraction and repulsion, of history and the potential for future conflicts. His refusal to be dismissed, to be pushed aside, was both infuriating and intriguing. It was Loki in all his complexity, challenging you to respond, to engage, to once again become entangled in the endless cycle of push and pull that had always defined you.

The next move was yours to make, and the shop, once a place of mundane tranquility, had become a battleground of wills, a stage upon which the next act of your shared story would unfold. With a flick of your fingers, reality within the confines of your shop twisted and shifted, unfurling like the petals of a flower under the first light of dawn. The mundane guise that had cloaked the truth from prying eyes dissolved, revealing the hidden splendor that no ordinary human could perceive. The illusion you had meticulously maintained for years now peeled away, and the floor beneath your feet transformed, paths of gold unfurling like rivers through the space. Artifacts, their origins as ancient and varied as the stars themselves, now adorned the walls—each piece a testament to histories untold and powers unimaginable.

But the transformation did not stop with the shop. It enveloped you as well, the very essence of your being responding to the unspoken command. The simple, mundane dress that had draped your form vanished, replaced by attire that echoed Loki's wistful remembrance. What materialized was reminiscent of your homeland's attire, designed for the relentless heat and the unyielding brightness of your realm. It was barely more than a tunic, the silk woven in patterns that spoke of ancient craftsmanship and royal decree, clinging to your form in a way that left little to the imagination. The hem flirted with the very brink of decency, the rump of your body barely shielded by the delicate fabric, a bold declaration of your heritage and status.

In this transformation, you reclaimed a fragment of your past self, the visage you had donned before you sought refuge and anonymity amongst the mortals of Earth. The change was not merely physical but symbolic, a shedding of the facade you had adopted to navigate the complexities of a world not your own. Standing there, in the true appearance of your being, you confronted Loki not as the unassuming shopkeeper he had encountered moments before, but as the goddess you truly were—powerful, formidable, and undeniably yourself. You stood before him not as an adversary to be underestimated, but as an equal, a being of immense power and depth, whose true nature was as complex and as potent as his own.

The shop, now a reflection of truths long concealed, served as the perfect backdrop for the unfolding confrontation. The artifacts that lined the walls, each bearing witness to the ages and the stories they contained, stood as silent sentinels to the encounter between two beings who transcended the mundane, whose histories were intertwined with the very fabric of the cosmos.

In this moment, the illusion shattered, the truth laid bare, you awaited Loki's response, the air thick with anticipation and the weight of unspoken challenges. The game, it seemed, had shifted, and the rules were being rewritten with each passing second. As the golden light settled and the true form of your shop shimmered into existence around you, Loki's initial reaction was a momentary flicker of surprise that quickly morphed into an appreciative smirk. His gaze swept over the transformed space, taking in the ancient artifacts and the streams of gold that ran like rivers across the floor. But it was the change in you that held his attention captive. The way the silk of your tunic clung to your form, the bold declaration of your divine heritage—it was as if he was seeing you for the first time all over again.

Loki breathed, his voice a blend of admiration and something darker, more primal. "This," Loki's voice wove through the air with an echo of ancient power, "is the true essence of you that lingers in my memory.” His eyes, alight with a mischievous and predatory gleam, never left your form as he slowly circled you, taking in every detail. "Hiding in plain sight, were we?" he mused, his tone teasing yet laced with an edge that hinted at the complexity of your shared past.

Despite the tension crackling in the air between you, you stood your ground, your posture radiating confidence and power. "And what of it, Loki?" you countered, your voice steady and imbued with strength. "Did you expect to find me cowering? Diminished?"

Loki's circling came to a halt, and he faced you, the distance between you charged with an electric anticipation. "On the contrary," he replied, his voice soft yet carrying an undeniable weight, as his fingers went forward, pulling at one of the strings keeping your body hidden from his gaze. "I've always known your strength, your... resilience. It's what makes this game so exhilarating."

The word 'game' hung between you, a reminder of the countless layers and facades both of you had navigated over the eons. This moment, however, stripped away those layers, revealing the raw essence beneath. It was a confrontation, yes, but also a recognition of the profound connection that had always existed between you—a connection fraught with complexity and contradictions.

"Are you certain you wish to engage in another game, Loki?" Your voice, steady and imbued with a quiet power, cut through the charged silence, even as you felt him unbuckle your shoes, his fingers deftly and slowly slipping them from your feet. "I seem to recall your rather... unfortunate defeat last time." The words hung in the air, a challenge and a reminder of past encounters where the balance of power had shifted, leaving Loki on the losing end.

Loki's hands stilled momentarily as he lifted his gaze to yours, a cunning glint sparkling within those deep green eyes. "Ah, but my dear, to dwell on a solitary defeat is to overlook the endless expanse of the game," he mused with a sly, almost serpentine smile. "The allure for me lies not in the victory or the loss, but in the exquisite complexity of the play itself. The interplay of strategy, the artful dance of minds. And," his voice dropped, a velvet caress against the tension hanging in the air, "the delicious possibility of reversing fortunes, which, I assure you, is a prospect I find most... exhilarating."

As he spoke, his fingers slid underneath your heel, leading your leg to rest over his shoulder with a care and precision that contradicted the levity in his voice. Loki laid another feathery touch to your thighs, gripping them tighter as he wedged his face between them, while you held fast to the edge of the counter. You stifled a moan when his tongue traced over the seam of your core.

There was no need to harbor affection for the man to appreciate the artistry his mouth provided. His tongue grazed the surface of your clit and you felt a tremor coursing through your very bones. He delved deeper, his taste encompassing the entirety of your core. As he did, your legs seemed to tighten inadvertently around him, though it posed no barrier to his indulgence. Your cunt clenched and you were swept away as his fingers dug deeper into the flesh of your thighs, pulling you closer onto his awaiting tongue. The surge of familiar emotions within you was overpowering, far too intense for your unprepared body. Your head fell back with a moan as you gave yourself to him in your entirety and Loki groaned, his tongue honing in on your bud as he chased your orgasm. He refused to relent until the heat had filled you whole, filled your soul. You writhed underneath him, hips helplessly buckling. Loki chuckled, a melodic blend of amusement and triumph, resonating with an undercurrent of sly cunning.

“That’s it, darling,” he coaxed as a surge of desire blossomed within you, enough to part your lips into a broken cry. His dark hair peeked between your fingers and his tongue snuck out to lick his lips while his gaze was set on you above him. His hand wandered to your tunic and yanked it away. His thumb grazed your nipple when he returned his mouth to your center, two of his fingers slowly dipping into your glistening heat.

“Loki,” you whimpered, tightening the hold on his hair—he matched your movements, arm securing you to him so forcefully no might on Earth and beyond could have parted you from his lips. He curled his fingers, rubbing that special spot inside of you and your stomach twitched. You felt him grin against your heat, teeth gracing over your sensitive bud, as a tremor ran through your body.

“My tempest darling,” he sighed when he finally pulled his fingers from you, leaving behind such an agonizing feeling of emptiness. You were about to retaliate, when he stood, bringing your body this his, hand running along the length of your thigh before he hoisted it against his hip. “Even if doubt shadows your heart, my dear, believe me, the absence of your taste on my tongue has been an ache most persistent,” Loki declared, his voice weaving together assurance and playful sincerity. One of his hands made quick work of undoing the dress pants of the black suit he was clad in, the other clutching your thigh close—so terribly tight you were certain even the skin of gods could be bruised by his hungry fingers. His lips found yours, softly at first, though through the looming desire burning within, Loki’s control appeared to stray when you bit into his lip, drawing blood. A groan tore from his throat, eyes darkening as he looked down at you, refusing to part from your gaze even as he entered you. Your mouth fell open against his, a silent moan slipping from your lips, his forehead dropping onto yours. He moved then, pulling out barely before he pushed back in so deeply it shook you. Loki had always been the embodiment of wickedness wrapped in the guise of charm; an enigma whose very presence stirred a vicious blend of temptation and sin, drawing all who encounter him into a dance with the devilishly divine.

“How I’ve missed you,” he whispered against the heated skin of your neck, traveling downward to softly kiss along your bared collarbones. His voice was a divinity, dark and rich and soaked with the sweetest of all sins. The emerald green within his eyes reflected the gold surrounding you. One of your hands cradled the back of his neck, fingers catching loose strands of raven hair that had grown so long in the centuries you hadn’t laid your sights on him. Loki held your thigh in a fierce grip, fingers digging further into your flesh with every stroke of his throbbing cock with your heat.

“You swore to kill me, my love,” you gasped as he delivered another harsh thrust, your head fell forward against his shoulder a searing pleasure built within you.

As his teeth grazed the delicate skin of your neck, savoring the salty essence of your being, Loki’s hand traveled from the curve of your thigh, securing you firmly against him at your waist, moving you against him in a refined rhythm. Against the warmth of your skin, he murmured, “To kill you, my little deity, would be akin to consigning a part of my own soul into the abyss.”

A gasp caught in your throat as he thrust into you deeper than before and you collapsed against him, coming with a cry of relief. He continued thrusting into you, arm keeping you secured against him as though you were about to vanish as you had done all those years ago. He lifted your chin, his mouth capturing yours when you felt him jerk inside of you. You felt his warmth spilling into you, his shameless groans filling your ears as he emptied himself within you. Breath mixing with his, you stayed there for a moment—in which the world seemed to narrow down to the space between the two of you, to the silent conversation spoken through glances and the slight tremors in your lungs.

Loki stole another kiss, then, as if breaking from a spell, his expression shifted, his early devotion to you giving way to a more serious, contemplative mien. “Business with you, my tempest darling, had always been a delight most exquisite,” Loki said, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that bordered on violence. “I trust you’re familiar with the tales of the Celestial Compass, aren’t you?” he continued, referring to an artifact of immense power and ancient origin, rumored to guide its holder to whatever they sought most in the universe. It was an object that you had kept hidden away, its location known only to you.

The mention of the compass sliced through the tension, a stark reminder of the stakes at play. Loki's presence in your shop, the transformation of your surroundings, the exchange of words—all were mere preludes to this moment.

"Why, Loki?" you asked, your voice a mix of curiosity and defiance as you fixed the tunic he had so carelessly pulled aside. "Why seek the compass now? What is it you desire so fervently to find?"

Loki's smile then was enigmatic, a mask that offered no clear answers. "Ah, but revealing one's desires so openly is a dangerous game, my dear. Let's just say... I seek something that has long eluded me." The ambiguity of his response left you wary, aware that Loki's desires were seldom straightforward and often entwined with greater schemes and hidden agendas. Yet, the acknowledgment of this quest, of his need for the compass, revealed a vulnerability in Loki—a crack in the armor he so carefully maintained.

As Loki awaited your response, the weight of centuries and the anticipation of what was to come hung heavily in the air. The next move was yours to make, in a game that was as much about uncovering truths as it was about concealing them. In response to his inquiry, your reply came not in words, but in the form of a serene smile, a silent echo of your shared past. With a casual flick of your fingers, you vanished into the ether, just as you had done countless centuries before, leaving Loki alone in the confines of what now appeared to be a decrepit shop. Its once vibrant essence faded, reflecting the sudden void your departure had created.

Loki, momentarily taken aback, quickly regained his composure. A laugh, rich with both amusement and a tinge of admiration, escaped him as he reached out to snatch a golden letter materializing out of thin air. The letter, simple yet profound in its message. The words, though brief, carried the weight of eons, a testament to the enduring dance between you two. Loki's gaze lingered on the golden script, a smirk playing on his lips, already plotting his next move in the timeless game between you.

“Farewell, my love.”

#loki series #loki x reader #loki fanfic #loki #loki laufeyson #loki smut #loki x y/n #loki x you

477 notes · View notes

stylesispunk · 9 months

Text

"The not so invisible string"

not outbreak! Joel Miller x f! Reader

masterlist | next chapter

summary: you and Joel were made right for each other in the wrong time. Now, thirteen years later your paths crossed when both of your daughters get in trouble at school. Would be the right time for you now?

word count: 5k>>

warnings: angst, implications of cheating (emotional). Probably some grammar mistakes because I write things fast.

a/n: New fic alert! Hello, I got this idea and I wanted to write it, so this is going to be a series depending on how this part performs. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading 💌

masterlist

dividers by @/saradika

When you’re young, you’re naïve

When you’re young, you know everything

But when you’re young, they assume you know nothing,

That’s why two people falling in love at the age of seventeen doesn’t seem interesting. People will assume a love like that, at that age is just a phase with a tragic ending. Tears, broken hearts, and the promises of never falling in love again.

But this one was different. You and Joel were different, two souls that had met at the age of five, growing up together as best friends, until one fell and then the other. One shared a kiss, and the best friends turned into lovers.

Isn’t that typical?

It was. Both of you knew, but still, you didn’t listen. Both of you become one soul, destined to be together since you were two kids playing hide and seek together.

Joel and you traveled the twisting roads of adolescence hand in hand as the years passed. Your shared love was a tapestry woven from the thread of shared dreams and whispered secrets.

Everything around you changed as well. From the carefree days of children to the turbulent storms of adolescence, your friendship has survived it all. Some tears fell like soft rain, washing away the doubts that crept into our hearts, and there were times of joy that resonated through the halls of your shared history.

Yet, with every rock on the road, you found the strength to rise again, your hands tightly intertwined. Joel became your confidant, the keeper of your fears, and the little light of hope during the darkest nights.

When you both turned seventeen, the very age at which outsiders claimed to be the year of mistakes and growing, one kiss changed everything. The connection between you both only deepened. And when the world might have seen you as naïve, you understood the profound love of your bond. It wasn’t a youthful infatuation; it was a love story written in the stars long before you were aware of its existence.

People whispered their doubts, predicting heartbreak and the inevitable end of your love story. Yet, in the quiet moments when it was just Joel and you against the world, you knew that your love was timeless. The promises made weren't born out of youthful exuberance; they were the solemn vows of two souls who had found their way to each other, over and over again, since the age of five.

Not even when you left Austin to go to college, the odds against you weren’t able to separate you. The odds seemed stacked against you, with skeptics murmuring that the challenges of a long-distance relationship would surely spell the end of your story. But you defied those expectations.

Letters and late-night calls became your lifelines, bridging the physical gap between you. Each word written and every shared moment over the phone felt like a testament to the enduring strength of your love. You didn’t let the rust grow between you, neither did he.

He was there the day you graduated, being the first face, you found across the room smiling back at you with proudness. Through that look and grin, there was an oath behind, not only the survival of your love but to distance emerging even stronger. He being there meant that, after this, you both could build your life together, get married, have children, and grow old together.

“I can’t wait to marry you” he whispered against your lips that night as you made love.

“And I can’t wait to be your wife” you whispered back, whimpering under his touch.

But with the past of the months, the fights started. He coming home late from work, and your struggling with finding a job added a layer of stress to your relationship. Frustration crept into our conversations, and what were once gentle whispers of love turned into heated exchanges, grappling with the frustration of job rejections and the sense of inadequacy that came with each disappointment. Joel, burdened by the demands of his career, found solace in the late hours at the office.

Spending time with a colleague you dislike because of their closeness, because he seemed to treat her the way he wasn’t treating you now.

Conversations about the state of your relationship became unavoidable. One evening, as the weight of your unspoken grievances hung heavy in the air.

"Joel, we can't keep going on like this. I need more from our relationship, and I can't shake off the feeling that you're finding solace elsewhere."

His response was a defensiveness grunt, speaking about the pressure at work, how he needed to prove himself, and how your job search struggles only added to his burden.

“So is it my fault?” You shouted.

Joel's expression shifted, caught off guard by the sharpness of my words. The defensiveness waned, replaced by a hint of realization. "No, it's not about fault," he began, his voice softer now, "but the pressure at work has been consuming me. I feel like I'm drowning, and I don't know how to balance everything." He sighed, “And you’re not even able to find a job” he added, the words hitting like a sharp jab amid our emotional battlefield.

He ended up calling you a mistake, and you called him a coward.

The room fell silent for a moment as the weight of your words sank. The frustration that had been simmering boiled over into a heated exchange. "A mistake?" you retorted, your voice edged with hurt and anger. "Is that how you see me? As some kind of burden or failure?"

Joel's expression shifted again, torn between regret and the lingering pressure that had driven him to lash out. "I didn't mean it like that," he began, but his attempt to backtrack only fueled the growing storm.

As the argument escalated, each word became a weapon in our emotional battlefield. Accusations flew, and the once-clear path of our relationship was now obscured by the fog of resentment and hurt. The dreams we had whispered to each other now seemed distant and unattainable, replaced by the harsh reality of you present.

“Maybe we should break up,” you said, motionless, tired of the fights. “And I will leave, and take the job I didn’t want to because I didn’t want to leave you here”

continued, the weight of the decision evident in my voice. The sacrifice echoed the painful truth that sometimes love, even when genuine, isn't always enough to weather the storms life throws your way.

Joel's eyes reflected a mix of surprise and realization, the gravity of the moment sinking in. The prospect of parting ways, of unraveling the life we had built together, cast a shadow over the room.

“Oh, are you surprised I’m not the failure you thought I was?” you asked, a bitter laugh escaping through the tears that spilled down your cheeks.

The room felt charged with the emotional storm of your shared history, the dreams you had woven now frayed and brittle. The vulnerability of that moment exposed the raw truth that love, no matter how deep, could sometimes prove inadequate in the face of life's relentless challenges.

Love has not always survived.

Joel's silence spoke volumes, his eyes reflecting the complexity of emotions that swirled within. The air felt heavy with regret, sadness, and the painful realization that a choice needed to be made.

And when the lack of words persisted, and in the heavy silence, you walked towards the bedroom, the weight of the decision settling into every step you took. The room, once a shared bright sanctuary, now witnessed the dismantling of a life we had built together.

In the dim light, you fumbled for your suitcase, hands trembling as you threw clothes inside. Each piece of clothing now felt like a painful reminder of what was slipping away. The vulnerability of that moment, intensified by the tears that blurred your vision, underscored the reality that sometimes love, despite its depth, couldn't shield us from the harshness of life's trials.

The sound of the zipper closing echoed in the room, marking the final choice that had been made. Joel remained in the doorway, a silent observer of the disintegration of a shared reality. His eyes, a mosaic of conflicting emotions, spoke of a recognition that what once was could no longer be sustained.

As you carried the suitcase, its weight mirrored the heaviness in your heart. The room, filled with the echoes of your memories from the past, felt emptier with every step toward the door. The unspoken pain lingered a palpable energy that accompanied you through the threshold of a life I had known so intimately.

The choice had been made, and in that moment, the gravity of our decision settled in—the dreams you had shared now relegated to the shadows of what could have been. The door closed behind you, and at that exact moment, you didn’t know how you were anymore, not when this was the first time you would start navigating life without Joel.

And then, when the months passed by, you were face to face again. He tried to change the ending, but it was late. He was going to be a father of a child that wasn’t yours.

And weeks later, on a night you were out, drinking all your tears and sadness, you met a guy, and three months after, you found out you were pregnant.

Joel and you were going to become parents, but with different people.

And it seemed like all people were telling the truth.

When you’re young you know nothing.

Thirteen years later...

Eyes focused on the road, breathe in, breathe out, thoughts wild around your head.

You were driving back to Austin, back to your past self, to the five-year-old you, back to the seventeen-year-old you, back to…

No, you thought.

Tara was sitting in the backseat, earphones in her ears probably listening to a song that would take her away from her reality, from moving from her home, leaving behind every single thing she grew up loving.

Just like you, you said to yourself.

“Hey, sweets are you okay?” you asked, glancing at her through the rearview mirror.

“Can we stop for a burger? I’m hungry” She avoided the question, again

“Your father is waiting for us at our new house, then we will get lunch, okay?”

She nodded, not uttering more words. She nodded, offering no more words. Then, she broke the silence. "I’m mad. I’m mad at you for leaving your life behind for Dad."

Confused, you asked, "What are you talking about?"

“You just had your job that you loved back at home; you had your friends. I had my life too and now we have to move here just because Dad said so?” Tara's frustration spilled out.

“He got a better job, that means—”

“That means nothing,” she interrupted. “Look, Mom, I know he loves me, and that he may love you, but he has always loved himself more than us. I think it's unfair for you to leave all that behind just for him.”

“Tara,” you whispered, struck by her perceptiveness. You thought it was incredible how at thirteen she was so aware of every single detail, and how much he knew you.

“I know if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t leave that life behind,” Tara spoke, her words cutting through the tension in the car. "I know there’s no man you would have done that for.”

You took a moment to collect your thoughts, the weight of the revelation settling in before you spoke. "There was one man before," you confessed, catching Tara’s attention. "His name was Joel," you said, the words heavy with the weight of memories, almost feeling a lump forming in your throat.

As you mentioned Joel's name, the car seemed to carry an unspoken history. Tara's eyes widened with curiosity and surprise.

“He was my best friend when we were kids,” you began, a nostalgic smile playing on your lips. “We grew up together, faced the challenges of growing older, and eventually, we fell in love.”

“What happened to him?” she asked.

"We broke up, and just when we tried to get back together, he found out he got another woman pregnant," you explained.

"He cheated," Tara concluded, a hint of judgment in her tone.

"No, he didn’t, but... I couldn’t bear to be with him, so I left."

"And then you met Dad," she deduced.

You nodded, acknowledging the sequence of events that had shaped your life. The car carried the weight of shared revelations, and the road to Austin became a journey not only through physical landscapes but also through the landscapes of your history.

Tara sat in the backseat, absorbing the complexities of your past.

"But," you added, "even though Joel and I didn't end up together, he will always hold a special place in my heart. People come into our lives for a reason, and Joel was a significant chapter in my story."

The air inside the car was a combination of anxiety and reflection as it approached its new home in Austin. Tara sat quietly in the backseat, her thoughts appearing lost in the stories you had told, still absorbing the specifics of your past.

As you approached the curb, your tires crunched on the cobblestone driveway. The foreign exterior of the new house appeared before you like a blank canvas waiting to be painted with the colors of your new existence. Dwight, your husband, stood on the porch, a bright smile on his face as he noticed the car.

Exiting the vehicle, you opened the back door for Tara, and the three of you stood together in the driveway. Dwight approached, a mixture of excitement and curiosity in his eyes.

"Welcome home!" he exclaimed, wrapping both of you in a warm embrace.

Tara offered a half-smile, still processing the weight of the move and the revelations that had unfolded during the journey. Dwight, ever perceptive, sensed the mix of emotions in the air.

"How was the drive?" he inquired, glancing between you and Tara.

"Long," Tara replied tersely, her eyes flickering with a hint of weariness.

Dwight, aware of the challenges the move presented, placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I know it's not easy, Tara, but I promise you'll find your place here."

The aroma of fresh starts penetrated the air as the three of you entered your new home. Dwight gave Tara a quick tour of the house, pointing out the right closets and stating to her that moving would be a good thing.

Dwight and Tara began to develop their rhythm of connection while unpacking boxes and settling into the unfamiliar home. The new place of residence began to turn from a new area to an area where shared memories would be established as the day progressed.

You couldn't help but think about Joel as you gazed around at the shifting landscape of your life, the echoes of the past fading into the background as you welcomed the present and the promise of a new chapter in your life in Austin.

It had been a week since Tara started school here, and she had begun to settle at the new school, at the unfamiliar hallways, and faces that were yet to become friends. Adjusting to a new environment, especially in the tumultuous teenage years, was never an easy feat.

That’s what you feared the most.

One afternoon, as you were going about your routine at the new house, your phone rang. The caller ID displayed the school's number, and a wave of concern washed over you. You answered with a sense of trepidation, already fearing the worst.

"Hello, this is Mrs. Evans from High School. Am I speaking with Tara's mother?"

"Yes, this is her mother. Is everything okay?" you asked, your heart racing.

"I'm calling to inform you that there was an incident at school today involving Tara. There was a fight, and we need you to come in for a meeting to discuss the situation."

A mix of worry and confusion filled the air as you tried to process the information. A fight? This was entirely out of character for Tara.

"Of course, I'll be there," you replied, a knot forming in your stomach.

As you arrived at the high school, a knot of anxiety tightened in your stomach. The unfamiliar hallways seemed to close in around you as you made your way to the principal's office. Tara and another girl with curly hair stood outside the door,

Behind the curly-haired girl, a man loomed, and for a moment, your heart skipped a beat at the possibility, dismissing the improbable thought as wishful thinking. As you walked ahead, the distance between you and the trio narrowed.

Entering the principal's office, the air seemed charged with tension. Mrs. Evans greeted you, her expression stern but professional. However, your attention was drawn to the man beside you, and when you finally looked, Joel stood there, his mouth agape, his eyes locked onto yours.

Time seemed to hang suspended in that moment as a flood of emotions washed over you—surprise, disbelief, and a surge of memories that had long been tucked away. The collision of your past and present felt surreal, and the room seemed to blur around the edges.

You were 22 again.

Neither of you said anything, instead, you allowed the principal to talk about the situation that had happened.

Mrs. Evans, proceeded to share the details of the incident with a measured tone, bringing the focus back to Tara and her well-being. As she spoke, you and Joel maintained an uneasy silence, glancing at each other intermittently with expressions that betrayed a mixture of emotions.

"There was an unfortunate incident earlier today," Mrs. Evans began, her gaze shifting between you and Joel. "Tara and another student, Sarah, found themselves in a situation where a group of boys was bothering Tara. Sarah intervened to defend her, and the situation escalated into a physical altercation."

Your concern for Tara heightened, but a glimmer of gratitude surfaced as you heard about Sarah's protective stance. You stole a glance at Joel, whose eyes betrayed a complex mix of emotions—perhaps a reflection of his own memories and regrets.

"Both Tara and Sarah are being appropriately addressed," Mrs. Evans continued, her eyes shifting between the individuals in the room. "We take any form of violence seriously, but we also recognize the need to ensure our students feel safe and supported."

As the principal delved into the steps being taken to address the situation, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease at the reunion with Joel in such unexpected circumstances. The shared concern for Tara momentarily bridged the gap of years and unresolved emotions, creating an unspoken connection.

The meeting concluded with an agreement on counseling for Tara and a commitment to monitoring the situation closely. As you rose to leave, the weight of the encounter lingered. So, you took Tara, delicately by the arm, and walked away from the ghosts from your past.

“Hey, Tara wait!” The voice of Sarah called out, getting closer to us.

Tara stopped in her tracks and turned to face the girl with beautiful curly hair, with a smile on her face.

“What?” Tara asked delicately.

“I want you to know I don’t regret what I did for you” She began, “And I have no idea what is like to be in new a place because I’ve always been here, and I also want you to know that you have a friend here. I will defend you from all those stupid guys making fun of you”

A grin appeared on your daughter’s face at Sarah's words, and she enveloped the girl in a hug murmuring a quiet “thank you” you had still been able to hear.

Your heart burst, not only for the happiness of your daughter finding a friend but for the tranquility she would feel from now on. Yet you couldn’t bear to lift your gaze from the girls because you knew once you did it, you would have to look at the same face that made you leave this city.

“Okay, Tara it’s time to go home,” you said, delicately grabbing your daughter’s arm, “and thank you, Sarah, for what you did for her”

“No problem” she said, smiling at you.

Once you both, said goodbye, you and Tara walked toward the car until a voice made you both stop your pace, and your heart beated like a drum.

“Yes?” you turned around, finding the strength to face Joel.

“I think it may be great for us to talk about our daughters” Joel spoke, buying some more seconds of your presence.

“Everything is clear." your voice came in a monotonous tone.

“But not between us” he said, with an undertone.

But instead of words, a heat overcame you, and you felt the skin around your eyes burn, you lifted you hand to your eyes, preventing the tears welled up in the corner to fall. But once you did it, you started crying, not knowing how to react and facing your past in front of you, how facing the man you had loved your whole life after thirteen years without any trace of him.

Joel took a step closer, his expression concerned. "I didn't mean to upset you," he said, his voice softening.

You took a deep breath, attempting to compose yourself. “It’s okay,” you said, taking a step back from his touch “I’m just stressed with all the changes” you lied, and grace a tiny smile towards him “We can talk another day when I’m settled.”

He simply nodded, caressing his chest with the palm of his hand in an attempt to take away the pain and confusion of seeing you again.

With a daughter, and probably married to another man.

“Drive safe,” he said, with a caring touch in his voice.

You nodded, turning on your heel, walking towards the car without looking back.

“You know her, don’t you?” Sarah asked his father, after seeing his longing expression as he watched you walking away from him.

“I did once,” he said, still looking at your car as if you would get out and tell him you wanted to try again.

And inside the car, the events weren’t different from outside. Once you put your seatbelt, Tara kept looking at you as if you were going to break at any moment.

“He is that Joel, right?” She asked you carefully, trying to get her answer.

You nodded.

Tara nodded, her expression was pure concern "Are you okay, Mom?"

You managed a reassuring smile, even though the tears still lingered in the corners of your eyes. "I'll be fine, sweetheart. It's just unexpected to see him again after so many years."

You took a glimpse in the rearview mirror as you drove away from the curb, leaving Joel standing there. As your mind lingered on a sudden encounter, the familiar surroundings began to blend as well. Your heart was heavier with the burdens of the days gone by, and the tears you pushed back threatened to spill over, again.

As you drove home, the stillness between you and Tara was loaded with unspoken feelings. Your mind raced with old memories, and you couldn't shake the overwhelming feeling of weakness that Joel's comeback had caused in you.

What were the odds? You thought.

Meanwhile, Joel stood still, watching the car disappear into the distance. The question asked by Sarah still hanging in the air. "You know her, don't you?" Sarah questioned her father, who appeared to be absorbed in the memories that your presence had triggered.

As he tried to make sense of what was happening, his mind was in a rush of emotions. It felt strange and overwhelming to see you after thirteen years. The agony of the past came forward, and he felt for just a moment like an outsider in his own life, watching the movie of the both of you being played all over again.

Joel paused briefly before breaking the silence. "I've missed you," he said, his eyes scanning your face for signs of reconciliation.

You nodded, attempting to conceal the residual worries that had grown during the three months you had spent away from each other “I've missed us as well. Perhaps we should try again," you reasoned.

However, as the talk progressed, the truth began to appear like a storm on the other side of the sky. Joel's hesitation hinted at something more serious, something he had been holding him back.

"But first, I need to tell you something," he finally admitted, looking down at the floor. "I got involved with someone else during our time apart."

The look on your face was enough for him to know that the news he was about to deliver was going to change everything between the both of you.

“She is pregnant.” He confessed, almost inaudible.

The room seemed to shrink as the weight of his words settled in. Shock and disbelief mingled with the pain of what it seemed as a betrayal in your mind, but you knew it wasn’t. You had hoped for a fresh start, but this revelation shattered those hopes.

He had a girl to take care of, a baby he was going to love.

"You're going to be a father?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. The reality of the situation was a heavy blow, and you struggled to comprehend the magnitude of the news.

Joel nodded; his eyes filled with remorse. "I didn't plan for this. It just happened."

“No. I don’t need an explanation of what you did when we weren’t together” Hurt, and resignation welled up inside you. "But we cannot be together. No, when you’re going to have a child with someone else. It’s not fair to any of us.”

Joel's remorse-filled gaze met yours, and he nodded in acknowledgment of the reality you both faced. The dreams of rekindling what once was seemed to crumble in that moment, replaced by the harsh truth of divergent paths.

"This doesn’t change anything between us," Joel whispered, his voice laden with regret, trying to reach for you.

“It does!” you called out, “It does change everything” You took a deep breath, steeling yourself against the waves of emotion crashing within. "I hope you find the happiness you're looking for, Joel. But it can't be with me."

You stepped closer to him, cupping one side of his face with your hand, tracing his cheek with your thumb, and trying to take a picture of him with your eyes.

One last picture, the last time you will have him this close to you.

And you leaned in, sealing this goodbye with a last kiss, savoring the sweet taste of his lips mixed with the salt of his tears streaming down your face. He grabbed your face with his last strength holding you back from slipping from his fingers, but once you pulled away, and looked at him one last time.

Then, you turned away, leaving the room, and, in a way, leaving a chapter of your life behind. The door closed with a soft click, sealing the end of a love story that had once held a promise, but it ended with Joel losing his princess.

“Let’s go, baby girl,” he said after a moment, wrapping his arm around Sarah, and walking to the car.

Tara kept stealing glances at you from the passenger seat, sensing the urgency of the scenario. The worry could be seen in her eyes, and you couldn't help but notice how perceptive she had become.

The car pulled to a stop in front of your house, which had become your new home in a place of spirits of the buried skeletons plotted to ruin your life. Tara unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to face you; her face filled with apprehension. "Mom, if you ever want to talk about it, I'm here."

You smiled, grateful for the depth of understanding and maturing in your daughter's eyes. "Thank you, sweetheart. I appreciate that."

As you both entered the house, the now familiar surroundings did little to ease the whirlwind of emotions within you. The past had a way of resurfacing when you least expected it, and Joel's reappearance had reopened wounds you thought had healed.

Once inside, in the quiet living room, your Dwight welcomed both of you with a smile on his face, “Hey is everything okay with you Tara?”

“Yes, Dad, just a misunderstanding,” he said, as if the matter wasn’t important, passing beside upstairs.

As you and your husband were left alone, he sensed something wrong with you.

"Hey, love, is everything okay?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for a glimpse of the truth.

You forced a smile, attempting to push away the turmoil that threatened to surface. "Yeah, just a blast from the past today.”

Dwight wrapped his arms around you, a gesture of comfort that, for a moment, allowed you to forget the complexities of the day. He pressed a gentle kiss on your lips, and as the warmth of his touch enveloped you, a pang of guilt swept through the figment of your mind, and you couldn’t help but feeling ashamed of yourself for tasting the lips of a man you had settled with because you couldn’t stay with the love of your life.

And you feel disgusted of wanting for him to be Joel.

And at the same time in a different place in the same city, Joel was dreaming of you again.

683 notes · View notes

gretavanlace · 6 months

Text

Hush

Josh Kiszka x reader

18+ only Minors do not interact

Warnings: graphic sexual content, dirty talk, choking, light degradation, praise, slight dom/sub/switch dynamic, language, etc

Josh is vocal.

That is certainly no secret.

Anyone who has watched him strut about a stage, microphone in hand, knows that.

Off stage, he talks incessantly about both the things that matter to him, and the mundane. Things he is passionate about. Things that light fires within him and drive him to create and pack this world as full of his heart as he possibly can. Arbitrary ideas and notions. Strange ponderings.

Pontification, he likes to call it.

He’s also vocally boisterous when agitated. He loathes waiting, and will mutter complaints near your ear in line until you’re willing your eyes not to roll. A phone call to vent about the antics of one brother or another from the studio is a regular occurrence and can be counted on just like death and taxes.

“Samuel was even later than I was,” he might huff, “and now Jake’s guitar needs to be restrung because fuck this whole world if he has to use a backup. I hate them, and I want to come home to you, light of my life, keeper of the stars, goddess of all that is— oh, we’re ready…gotta go.”

Josh murmurs in his sleep, sings in the shower, talks himself through menial tasks, hums in the grocery store, carries on one-sided conversations with the cat who simply chirps along while swirling around his ankles.

At least twice a night he snatches you from drifting off to sleep with a question: Do you think I should call my mom more? If I miss her, she must miss me. Or, Did I ever tell you about that time that Jake ate shit and fell in the lake? I was thinking about it today, and…

Random thoughts and idle musings he can’t help but verbalize, you hear them all. Mostly. The ones you aren’t privy to, fall upon the nearest ear - but he’s so fucking charming even a stranger is happy to play sounding board.

Josh is also expressive when you’re wrapped up in soft, linen sheets…or wherever else he’s decided he can no longer wait to have you.

Whispers of devotion swelling like a gentle breeze across the hum of your pulse when he makes love to you. Filthy, dirty, blush-inducing declarations when he’s fucking into your trembling body like he’ll never touch it again.

And you love it…all of it. But now - with your visiting sister slumbering in the guest room on the other side of the wall - is certainly not the time.

“Baby, please…” his mouth is sucking gently along your collarbone as he grinds into you slowly, friction hard and constant against your greedy, swollen clit, “let me fuck you faster…c’mon, I need it.”

”What you need, is to be quiet,” your voice is a stern whisper, but your hands are tender in his hair.

He could easily set a pace as brutal as he desired if he felt inclined to disobey…but, ever the sweetest switch, he has opted to play nice tonight.

”I’ll be quiet,” he promises. It is a lie he truly believes, and to prove that point, you clench around him and draw forth a pitiful groan from deep within his chest.

A swift pinch at his side serves as punishment ”Shut. Up.”

”Fuck you,” he sounds deliciously desperate, “You did that on purpose. Squeezing me with that beautiful pussy…goddamn.”

”What’s going to happen if I let you make me cum? Hmm?” Your mouth falls into a delicate pout as if you just feel so sorry for him, “You know how tight I get. How I just hug your cock all snug and wet…”

”And warm,” he adds, lost in it, daydreaming in the dark of night and twitching inside the embrace of your cunt, “Soft as satin, sucking me right in…oh my god, baby, please.”

He begins moving with more purpose, dragging the head of his cock against that lovely little spot that will render you incoherent if you allow it to.

”Oh my god, please,” you mock quietly, “Look at you Joshua, what a whiny baby. What are you begging for? Pussy? Is that what you need?”

He nods frantically against your sternum, as though he doesn’t trust himself to look up at you.

You feign confusion wickedly “But you’ve got that. You’re already inside me…”

“Faster,” he breathes, biting and mouthing at your shoulder now, “Need it faster, and harder. It’s too slow, I need more.”

Clicking your tongue like he is a poor, pathetic sight to behold, you shake your head, “Slow down.”

”No, please don’t make me,” he slows, as instructed, but trails off with a whimper.

So, maybe there’s no ‘like’ about it, maybe he really is a poor, pathetic sight to behold. Yes, you decide, that’s exactly what he is…

…so why not push him even further?

With a swift tug on the roots of his curls, you issue an order ”Stay still.”

Despondent and mournful, he groans into the crook of your neck and grabs at your hips so tightly you’ll be admiring raspberry bruises in the mirror come morning. “C’mon, baby girl…lemme take it. I fucking want it.”

If he were looking at you, he’d see the devilish gleam in your eye. Aren’t you an awful witch tonight? “What? Don’t you like it when I keep your pretty cock warm for you?”

He flexes hard inside of you, simply to gain even a hint of friction. “You’re being so fucking mean.”

”Mean?” You coil around the throbbing length of him and he shudders out the tiniest sound, “If I was mean, I’d lock your pretty cock in a cage and fuck your face all night.”

For a moment, he shirks his submissive edge and hisses in your ear, low and slow, “Liar. Not with little sister in the next room…you couldn’t keep quiet with my face between your legs if someone fucking paid you to.”

In response, you shove him back and roll until your thighs are locked around his waist, the crown of his cock nestled against your clit as your hips swivel heated circles.

”Does that feel good, baby?” You’re taunting him cruelly while, in contrast, lovingly reaching up to smooth the furrow from his brow. “Does that just feel so good?”

”Wanna put it back inside,” his eyes squint shut and anyone who didn’t know better might think his expression is that of suffering. “Perfect fucking cunt, so tight, so…”

”Shh,” you quiet him with a hand wrapped around his throat, relishing the way his adam’s apple slides against your palm when he swallows hard, “shut your mouth for once.”

He’s staring up at you, wide-eyed and needy, like you painted the stars in the sky, gorgeous and glittering, just for him…and how you wish that were true. How you wish you could give him something so profound. Something worthy of his light.

”I won’t make a sound,” his vow sounds out, a cross between the honesty he wishes it to be rooted in, and the lie he knows it to be. “C’mon baby, please…fuck me sweet.”

Does he really want it sweet? Or is he simply aware that that’s all he is capable of quietly handling?

Likely the latter.

Your fingers have found your nipples, twisting and tugging on them as they tighten into pink pebbles that send shivers crawling down into your stomach with every pull. His eyes lock in on you, watching you tease them as his breathing kicks up into a frenzy.

“You’re pushing it,” he warns, grip pulling you down closer as he rocks his hips up to meet you. “Keep it up and I’m gonna fucking take it. Be a good girl now, baby…I’m done with your shit.”

”Yeah?” Your eyebrow raises in silent challenge. Does he have it in him tonight?

“Yeah.” He nods, licking his thumb to swirl much too gently across your clit.

”I think you should just behave and be grateful for what you’re—“

Stunned and dazed, the room blurs around you as you’re flipped and tossed until your cheek is pressed against the cool, crisp sheets. They smell of him, and you breathe Josh in until your lungs ache while his cock teases at your entrance from behind.

His body folds over yours until his lips sweep the shell of your ear, “You’ve done it now, baby girl. Better be quiet, yeah? Not a sound.”

With a swift snap of his hips, the silken glide of his cock fills you full as his palm presses against your lips to muffle the high-pitched moan that gasps out of you.

”Now who’s the whiny baby?” his perfect teeth sink into your earlobe and tug until it blooms with heat. The moan that seeps into his soft skin causes his lips to curl into a smirk you can feel. “This is what you wanted, you think I don’t know that?”

He has begun moving at an excruciatingly slow place, the head of his cock dragging gently inside you just right…but you need more.

”You think I didn’t know that you wanted me to just fucking take it all along?”

You nod urgently, tangling your hair against the pillowcase. Of course he knew, he knows you better than you know yourself. There are no secrets to be hidden away when it comes to Joshua. He hunts each and every one down like glittering treasure with ease…your body his map, the pools of your eyes ciphers he decodes without even trying.

His tongue is dancing its way along your jaw now, springing chills to life upon your flushed skin ”Tell me how good my cock feels and I’ll fuck you full.”

Another woeful sound shakes out of you and a rumbling, gravelly laugh huffs warm against your cheek, “My poor, sweet baby can dish it just fine tonight, but she can’t take it? Is that it?”

With a shhh that makes you feel weighed down heavy with lust, he lifts his palm away from your mouth. “I can take it,” you promise in a hush, “Please…I can take it, I swear.”

He is so still inside you, but the familiar stretch is enough to send a tremble tripping up your spine, spider-cracking like a jolt of electric pleasure. “But can you take it quietly? Can you be a real good girl or should I gag you like a whore?”

”I’ll be a good girl,” you breathe, relishing the sound that slips out of him, a cross between famished desire and worshipful devotion.

“Yeah?” He’s enjoying this little game too much to wave goodbye to it just yet, “You’ll be a good girl if I give you this cock?” He presses in so deeply there’s nothing left for him to give, “You’ll take it quietly and squeeze it nice and tight? Soak it with your little wet cunt when I make you cum?”

He can feel you clenching already, twisting around him like a fist, milking him, pulling him in, starved for more.

”Yes, yes, yes,” you chant softly, begging for him to get on with it, “Just fuck me, Josh…please,”

There’s that sinful mouth of his again, ghosting over your ear, “Just fuck me Josh,” he mocks in a velvet whisper, “Please.”

A sob escapes you and turns the apples of your cheeks pink…he echoes the sound back to you and fans the flames of your delectable shame.

”Quiet now, baby…” he reminds you, tone taunting and laced with self-satisfaction, “You just bite down on the pillow if it gets to be too much, and I’ll bite down on you.”

You tighten around him at the mere thought of it and tug an achingly gorgeous grunt from deep within his chest, “You like that? You want me to bite you to keep quiet? Mark you up all pretty?”

”Fuck…” you reach back and grab for him, fingers sinking into the curve of his waist, begging for it with your entire body.

You can’t seem to manage much more, but it’s enough for him, and with a swift pull back, he snaps his hips hard and fast and sets a relentlessly feral pace in motion.

The head of his cock, thick and suede-soft, kisses your cervix with each inward push, driving a wild sound out of you that you smother into the pillow, tongue dragging against the worn cotton as though it were his mouth.

His teeth are peppering your back and shoulders, gnashing his own moans way down deep into your flesh where you will secret them away forever. He gifts each sound to you on a gorgeous, stinging platter and you only want more, more, more. It is never enough with him…you are gluttonous for whatever he sees fit to offer.

”You feel so fucking good, baby,” it comes undulating across your cheekbone like a warm, languorous breeze, “So fucking wet, I can feel you all over me. You’re gonna make me cum.”

He grows impossibly hard within you and that, along with the filth he is sighing into the night and the drags of his teeth, sends you careening over the edge you had no idea you were so close to. You explode around him, and his weight grows heavier atop you as his thrusts lose rhythm.

“That’s it,” his praise is clipped and winded, “just - fuck - just like that. Keep going, so tight, messy pretty fucking pussy, make me cum, baby, please…make me fucking cum.”

He’s babbling like a brook you want to lie beside and listen to for the rest of your life. So beautiful. So Josh. But so quietly, and you know how difficult it must be for him, how hard he must be trying, and you love him all the more for it.

With a final, vicious bite, he coaxes a hiss out of you that makes him see stars as he lets go, fucking himself deeper and deeper as he rides it out, moans pressed into your glazed, shivering body like flowers in between the pages of a book.

And still, you only want more. You want his jaw to lock, his teeth to break the skin, to draw blood, to scar you…soft pink, raised marks tattooed by his kiss to remind you.

A long sigh flutters your hair, and your eyes drift closed at the soothing lilt of the sound as his fingers begin to card through your hair.

”You thirsty, baby?” His nose nuzzles at you, drawing forth a lazy smile that is half smashed into the pillow.

“Yes, but stay a little longer.”

He cuddles down into you, cheek to cheek, the weight of his body keeping you warm and safe in the silence.

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mechaknight-98 · 6 months

Text

Bon Voyage (NSFW) FT Yoohyeon

Authors note: This better not awaken anything in me… oh no it did. My longest work by a county mile. Have fun.

Part II

There is a codex keeper on every expedition ship who holds the history of his people. Trained to be not only a warrior but also a healer and a scholar. The path of a codex keeper is wrought with strife and misery, but often they are venerated as heroes due to their aptitude in the myriad of professions they undertake.

The ship known as the Royal Marquis is no different For that’s crew codex keeper went by the name of Orion.

Orion was a soft-hearted and passionate Codex keeper whose humanity shone in even the darkest nights with light that could rival the stars. Born and raised on Nebula M78. Orion was taught above all to be kind and serve. For everyone knocked down by your actions you must use both hands to raise them back up. A message so engrained that even throughout all of his many runes and teachings of wisdom etched into his dark body this one hovered over him as a constant flowing and glowing halo a testament to his belief. His relentless pursuit of the ideal and peaceful was only matched by his equally fervent devotion to his faith in others and the Triumvirate. Although appreciated by many on the ship many feared the power and influence he held over the ship. His soft teal iris contrasted by pitch-black sclera held both Tranquility and Turmoil a testament to his unbreakable nature. Trained by his legendary and wizened Codex Master of acquiescence Lorgar; Orion is a truly formidable force in his own right.

Despite his jovial demeanor, Orion sticks to himself when not directly helping the crew or being consulted for his expertise. His understanding of the disdain that many of the ship’s crew had for him was palpable and understood.

This disdain went beyond and would include even those in his order, although in many ways he was an average codex keeper. Average height, average weight, etc. The only exception to his mediocrity was his academic, arbitration scores (which were exceptionally high and occasionally cause for concern) and his faith in the triumvirate as the codex preferred its applicant's faithful only to the cause. Which is exactly why Keeper Orion’s master chose him. This is why after his most recent excursion; Orion finds himself heading to His master's office. Before he could enter he saw the Codex Masters of Academics (Samuel) and Arbitration (Michael). Neither saw him as the two entered his Master's chambers.

The Codex Masters of Arbitration and Academics entered the personal chambers of the Codex Master or Acquiescence. They needed to discuss his refusal to admonish the Codex Keeper Orion, for failing to adhere to one of his core functions and losing a codex of his. they worried it would fall into the wrong hands and the lost history would be weaponized against their order. In truth, the Codex had been consumed by an accidental firing of Orion's rapidly developing and uncontrollable magic powers. The reason why the lie on the part of Orion was that in a miraculous turn of events he had developed the black lines of a mage. A feat that should have been impossible, but if there was one thing that many people knew Orion for it was impossible feats.

“Codex master of Acquiescence Logar we are here to discuss the lack of chastisement and admonishing done to your pupil codex keeper Orion, after failing to maintain his core function as Codex keeper.” Codex Master of Academics prattled.

Codex Master Lorgar looked up from his writings and looked to his other two Codex Masters

“Keeper Orion was serving his other core function when his codex was destroyed in protecting and serving the crew and citizens of the expedition ship The Royal Marquis while it was conducting the Pilgrimage when it attacked by Beyond Beasts”

“While that is true he still lost his codex and must go through the reassembly rite.” Codex Master of Academics: Samuel responded.

“He keeps an extra codex already assembled as per our written code. Plus he always prepares three when he needs a new Codex, for this exact reason.”

"Well, how will we what was lost in the data?" Codex Master of Arbitration Michael asked.

"Simple he records in both his normal Codex, His spare, and his personal Journal to again avoid the loss of information. This is why I didn't report the loss well destruction of his codex to either of you. he did all of the proper preparation before an expedition, and honestly I wouldn't have even known had it not been for him telling me, which is more than I can say for either of your apprentices who have both recently lost their codecies." Lorgar rebuked

the two Codex Masters looked at Lorgar in surprise. They thought they had successfully safeguarded the issue of their apprentice's data being breached.

This ended their conversation with Lorgar effectively and the two Codex Masters left. little did they know Orion heard the whole thing. He reduced himself as they walked out not wanting to further exaggerate their ire. After they left Orion entered his Master's office

As the weight of Lorgar's words settled over the room, Orion couldn't help but feel a sense of unease creeping over him. The implications of his growing powers and the potential consequences weighed heavily on his mind, casting a shadow over the otherwise tranquil atmosphere.

"Your ability to pass without a trace is impressive but concerning, Orion," Lorgar teased, his tone laced with a hint of amusement as he felt a familiar presence enter his room.

Orion smirked, though his expression betrayed a flicker of nervousness. "My apologies, my master. I just didn't want to expand the ire of the other Codex Masters."

"It's much too late for that. If you wanted that, you should have died when those pirates attacked and you saved both of their apprentices. By the way, your wound is finally healing," Lorgar joked lightly, though there was an underlying seriousness in his words that didn't escape Orion's notice.

"Don't remind me, had Leito listened to me I wouldn't have gotten it. Bleh I will never understand the politics of this order," Orion remarked, his tone tinged with frustration.

"For that, I appreciate it. Often we get caught up in the religion of politics and forget our Order's purpose," Lorgar lamented, his gaze thoughtful as he regarded his apprentice.

"What do you mean, Master?" Orion asked, his curiosity piqued.

"I appreciate your inquiry, but surely you have seen the devout faith and zeal that some of our order has displayed in the political arena?" Lorgar clarified his words carrying a weight of wisdom borne from years of experience. Orion nodded in understanding, recognizing the truth in his master's words.

"Now, what bothers you, Orion?" Lorgar inquired, his tone gentle yet probing.

In response, Orion slowly undid his bandages, revealing the growing black lines that covered his forearms. The sight caused Lorgar to loom over the revelation, his expression grave.

"Have you been practicing with Magik?" Lorgar questioned, his voice tinged with concern.

Orion shook his head, his gaze meeting his master's with a mixture of apprehension and confusion. Every use of his Magik powers had always been accidental, lacking intention or control. There was a silver lining, however, Orion’s Codex Keeper Glyphs were beginning to mature and become silver meaning he would be up for the mark of Mastery Exam. Something Lorgar knew he would ace guaranteed. It just pained Lorgar that as often with his apprentice every victory is hard fought and pyrrhic.

Taking note of his apprentice's response, Lorgar continued, "Does your Ward Witch companion know?"

"No, Master, but both Yoohyeon and Dami have expressed their suspicions," Orion admitted, his voice tinged with worry.

"Well, keep it that way if you can. You know the stakes if others were to discover that both Psionics and Magik powers exist in you," Lorgar cautioned, his words carrying a weight of urgency as he emphasized the potential consequences of such a revelation.

"I would become a weapon at best and at worst a political tool," Orion responded. Lorgar nodded he always appreciated Orion's ability to listen and trust. It was one of his best and worst qualities. Along with his compassion. The two things that made him an excellent leader could easily make him such a threat to the federation if he were so inclined. Planets would follow Orion to war if he raised a banner, the horrifying part is Lorgar would also join too, knowing his apprentice. So he chose to make sure his apprentice stayed low to the ground and humble because if not Orion's sincerity, Compassion, and true Zeal could bathe the starways in blood.

After he met with the codex master, Orion returned to his shared residence with the Ward Witch Yoohyeon. Before delving further into the story, let's elucidate the concept of a Ward Witch, which may be unfamiliar to some.

In the realm of the expedition ship, Ward Witches adhere to a code that intertwines service, seduction, arbitration, and attraction. They are formally trained magicians, drawing power from mana channeled through various mediums. Unlike Codex Keepers who wield psionics to directly manifest change, Ward Witches practice a more traditional form of magic, employing spell incantations and specific mediums to fuel their abilities.

These enigmatic practitioners, often found traveling in packs known as covens, blend raw emotion with guarded restraint, weaving spells that balance expression and control. Typically, a Ward Witch is paired with a Codex Keeper due to the complementary nature of their abilities.

Enter Yoohyeon Kim, an extraordinary Ward Witch hailing from Prime Terra. Versatile and adept, she excels in diplomacy, boasting proficiency in eight out of the twelve core and rim languages of the federation. Her prowess extends beyond linguistics; Yoohyeon's exceptional singing talent significantly enhances her magical abilities. Her other skills were equal in proficiency whether it be her dance, or her combat prowess if it was a skill to be master odds are Yoohyeon was a master of it.

Intriguingly, Yoohyeon's coven comprises mostly performers, each member's abilities amplifying their talents. Her excellence stands in stark contrast to Orion's averageness, yet their coupling was orchestrated by forces beyond their comprehension, guided by celestial powers and higher entities.

Yoohyeon smiled as she watched her chosen partner walk in. She lounged on their sofa as Orion walked in she waved seductively hoping to catch his eye

“Hello sweetheart,” she cooed. Orion smiled and then noticed her absence of clothing, and his body responded. He walked over to her and held her face close before kissing her intently. Yoohyeon smiled into the kiss before taking her opportunity and flipping their position. She smiled at Orion before going in for another passionate kiss. Her dainty but strong and nimble hand opens Orion’s pants for her desired piece of him at this moment. Orion could feel Yoohyeon drip onto his clothed legs as she meticulously stroked his rod in preparation for penetration. Yoohyeon reveled in the power she held over her chosen partner. When she felt his rod stiffen to its full potential she lowered herself onto him as they kissed. Orion fell victim to the rhythm of his body but before he could truly fall into it Yooyheon stopped and his hips and set his hands upon her perky petite breasts.

“Relax Sweetheart let me take the lead,” she said her voice low sultry, and stern. Orion wordlessly nods and Yoohyeon smiles before diving in. She begins by riding Orion at a tortuous and glacial pace. Orion's moans delighted Yoohyeon as she slightly increased her pace. She begins to kiss his exposed shoulder before she sucks on it with the intent of leaving a mark on "Her Codex Keeper". When she heard Orion moan again she broke the kiss to see her work accomplished she smiled. She then went back to kissing his lips as she increased her tempo slightly once more. she watched as Orion fell increasingly into submission with her. Her folds encased Orion in an almost suffocating tightness that left the keeper-headed. However, the Ward Witch also knew that she often kept the keeper breathless and speechless in bed. Something she fought to change since she loved the sound of his voice. A soothing anchor to her often hectic life, while the tone and inflection left things to be desired what he said was always a comfort to her. So to get the desired reaction, she slammed her bountiful bottom into his crotch eliciting a shared moan from the couple

“Do you like it, Sweetheart," Yooheyon asks seductively as she traces his Codex keeper glyphs that cover his body in a mirrored way to her Magik tattoos. Orion nods which causes Yoohyeon to tease him further, "Use your words, sweetheart. Do you like it?"

"Yes Dear you know my body so well," Orion says breathlessly. Yoohyeon smiles as she continues her ride she slows her lace slightly to drive Orion mad even further.

"I love the way you feel under me. I love the way you writhe and squirm but still do as I ask." Yoohyeon moaned as she neared her release.

"After all we've been through I wouldn't have it any other way," Orion replies. His words inadvertently send Yoohyeon over the edge as she cums on her partner. she continues to ride before her sensitivity gets the better of her and she hops off of his rod. Yooyhyeon lies next to Orion. She moves his hand to her ample posterior and has him firmly grip it as they remember the past. a favorite post-coitus time for the couple

"You remember when we first met Othello," Yoohyeon asked, Orion nodded

"How could I forget."

2 years earlier.

Codex Keeper Orion stood at his post getting ready for his first expedition. He was worried that he would be late so he arrived at the Royal Marquis 2.5 hours before he was supposed to. He eased his nerves by doing the glyphs of protection over the ship. He figured another once-over couldn't hurt. As he did his work he felt a presence watching him. He turned around to see a young woman with Dyed blonde and brown hair watching him. Embarrassed Orion quickly stopped his warding glyphs. the blonde smiled and said

"Well, Well, Well, Hi there," she said as she approached with a friendly tone. it put Orion at ease who smiled back at her and outstretched his hand to her. The young lady smiled and grabbed his hand but as she went to shake it she tripped causing both Orion and her to fall to the ground. The girl apologized profusely as the two of them got up.

"I am so sorry I am usually not this clumsy. My name is Yoohyeon, and I am the ward Witch for this ship." Yoohyeon finished.

Orion recognized the name and said, "Wait like the one of the Dreamcatcher Coven?" Yoohyeon's eyes went wide as not many knew her Coven throughout the federation.

"Wait you know us?" she asked surprised.

"Yes, I am a big fan!" Orion replied excitedly

"Oh, who's your favorite." Yoohyeon teased playfully

"No that's a setup because if I don't say you, you'll look at me funny but if I say you you won't believe me so I'll go with my typical answer of I don't have a favorite," Orion replied.

Yoohyeon smirked playfully, "Okay I'll accept that." she replied. Orion nods as the two of them walk together around the Ship.

"Wait I didn't get your name," Yoohyeon replied as they walked around the ship and Orion finished his Warding Glyphs

"Oh no worries Orion is my Keeper's name but my actual name is Othello."

"Oh Orion...I wouldn't peg you as a Mythology buff." Yoohyeon teased.

"I'm not I got Orion from a comic book." Orion replies

"Oh, that's way cooler than." Yoohyeon playfully affirmed. as she leaned into the Eldorian. when he caught her she smiled "Ooh sturdy body. I like it," Yoohyeon cooed.

Orion didn't lose the sense of being watched however he was put at ease by the Ward Witch.

"So this is your apprentice? He's underwhelming at first glance. Are you sure Yoohyeon won't be held back by his mediocrity?" Lady Sunshine, the Ward Witch and direct mentor of Yoohyeon, questioned Codex Master Lorgar as they observed Orion.

Lorgar's expression remained calm as he responded, "Appearances can be deceiving, Lady Sunshine. Keeper Orion may not strike you as exceptional, but I assure you, he possesses qualities that go beyond mere outward appearances."

Lady Sunshine arched an eyebrow skeptically. "Oh? And what qualities might those be?"

A knowing smile played on Lorgar's lips. "You'll see soon enough. I have arranged for a test that will showcase Orion's true capabilities."

Lady Sunshine's curiosity was piqued. "A test, you say? Color me intrigued. But forgive me if I remain skeptical until I witness this supposed potential firsthand."

Lorgar nodded, undeterred by her skepticism. "I wouldn't expect anything less, Lady Sunshine. Rest assured, Orion will not disappoint."

With a dismissive wave of her hand, Lady Sunshine replied, "Well, I suppose we shall see."

"If I may, Lady Sunshine," Lorgar interjected, "I have full confidence in Orion's abilities.

Their conversation concluded with a sense of anticipation lingering in the air, both mentors eager to see what the future held for their respective apprentices.

Over the next few hours the ship, supplies, and fuel were packed for the 8-month trip. While this was going on it was common practice for both Yoohyeon and Orion to help the crew loading. This is of significance because often Ward Witches and Codex Keepers do not do this. so a majority of the crew and passengers for the Grand Marquis were shocked. Obviously, with her impressive Magik skills, Yoohyeon was able to do a lot more than Orion but Yoohyeon while being extremely skilled was also prone to clumsiness. often her over-eagerness to be of service would cost her focus and mess her up. Thankfully for every single one of those mishaps, Orion was there to cover for her and help her. So what usually took over 25 hours to load up took five with Yoohyeon and Orion's help. After loading up the passengers and crew waited in their various quarters.

Othello was lying on his bed in his quarters, exhausted from the day's work of loading supplies onto the ship for the upcoming 8-month trip. As he started to drift off into a light doze, he heard a gentle knock on his door.

Pushing himself up, Othello stretched out his tired muscles before making his way to the door. Opening it, he was met with the sight of Yoohyeon standing there, she dyed blonde and brown hair tousled from the day's activities.

"Hey," she said softly, a small smile playing on her lips. "Mind if I come in?"

Othello's heart skipped a beat at the sight of her, his pulse quickening slightly. "Of course," he replied, stepping aside to let her enter.

Yoohyeon stepped into his quarters as she did her heightened magic senses felt the change in Othello's heartbeat as she moved closer to him. Yoohyeon smiled at that, her eyes scanning the room before settling on

Othello. "I just wanted to thank you for today," she said sincerely, her gaze meeting his. "I couldn't have done it without your help."

Othello felt a warmth spread through him at her words, his chest swelling with pride. "It was nothing," he replied modestly, though inwardly he was pleased to have been able to assist her.

As they stood there facing each other, a comfortable silence fell between them. Othello couldn't help but notice the way Yoohyeon's eyes sparkled in the dim light of his quarters, or the way her smile seemed to brighten the room.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious under her gaze, Othello cleared his throat. "Is there anything else you need?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

Yoohyeon shook her head, her smile widening. "No, I just wanted to say thank you," she said softly. "But if you ever need anything, you know where to find me."

"I don't" Othello responded bluntly

Yoohyeon laughed and said, "Oh right! room 307 just three doors down from you at 310." Yoohyeon said

With that, Yoohyeon turned to leave, but before she could take a step,

Othello found himself speaking up again. "Wait," he blurted out, his heart racing in his chest.

Yoohyeon turned back to him, her eyebrows raised in surprise. "Yes?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity. She could hear his heart racing and tried to hide her smile. She wondered why he was so flustered.

"I just... I wanted to say that I'm glad we could work together today," Othello said, his words coming out in a rush. "And I... I enjoyed spending time with you."

There was a moment of hesitation as Yoohyeon regarded him, her expression unreadable. Othello agonized over her pause, but then, to Othello's relief, she smiled, her eyes softening.

"Me too," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. And with that, she turned and left, leaving Othello standing there, his heart pounding in his chest.

As he watched her go, Othello couldn't help but feel a sense of joy well within him. He hoped he would be seeing more of her. he also noticed as she walked out she gave a seductive little Sashay of the room drawing his eye to her hips and her stellar rump. Yoohyeon chuckled as she walked out. her little act of seduction having its desired effect as she heard Othello's heart race a little bit faster. She bit her lip excited "Playing with you will be fun Keeper." she said as she got into her room.

Over the next few weeks, the duo's schedules would align enough to where they would see each other quite often, but never more for moments at a time, and in those fleeting moments. Orion's nerves would slowly melt away as he would see her. usually clean up a mess she made in a rush, having messed up a spell or invocation just slightly in her hectic life, but always Orion would help her out. The female Captain took note of Orion's helpfulness and brought him on to help her in conflict resolution matters between crew members along with helping the mechanics.

Captain Marie was taken aback by all of his questions but quickly learned they were not from a place of Malice but an insatiable need to know everything. It was endearing to her and also a little inspiring as he made her better by challenging thought processes and perspectives. She was a new Captain of Expedition ships so someone who asked a lot of in-depth questions helped her grow and helped foster a more in-depth knowledge of her craft

As Orion enmeshed himself in the ship's workings and culture it drew time away from his meetings with Yoohyeon, who felt increasing pains in her heart seeing him having to consistently leave her. Not used to these feelings she often would sneak little moments with him where they would catch up and talk during the end of the day in his bed. staring out his window of the ship gazing at the stars and other exceptional creatures/ ships that traveled the stars. As more weeks passed, Yoohyeon and Othello found themselves crossing paths less frequently, and their encounters increasingly fleeting yet meaningful. Othello's nerves gradually melted away each time he saw her, his heart skipping a beat at her presence.

One evening, as Othello was tidying up his quarters after a long day, he heard a soft knock on his door. Opening it, he was delighted to find Yoohyeon standing there, a sheepish smile on her face.

"Hey," she greeted softly, her eyes sparkling with warmth. "Mind if I come in?"

Othello's heart raced at the sight of her, but he managed to nod eagerly, stepping aside to let her enter. Yoohyeon heard the beat of his heart playing and felt at ease. she loved the heavy percussion his heart had and how she always knew where he was because she knew his heartbeat so well. As she stepped into his quarters, he couldn't help but notice the faint blush that colored her cheeks.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

Yoohyeon nodded, her smile widening.

"Yeah, I just... missed talking to you," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

A rush of warmth flooded through Othello at her words, his smile growing in response. "I missed talking to you too," he confessed, his gaze meeting hers.

Settling onto the edge of Othello's bed, Yoohyeon leaned against the wall, her eyes fixed on the stars visible through the window. Othello joined her, their shoulders brushing as they gazed out into the vast expanse of space.

For a while, they sat in comfortable silence, the only sound the soft hum of the ship's engines. Then, Yoohyeon spoke up, her voice quiet yet filled with emotion.

"Do you ever wonder what's out there?" she asked, her gaze still fixed on the stars.

Othello nodded, his own eyes tracing the constellations overhead. "All the time," he admitted. "But somehow, when I'm with you, it feels like the universe isn't quite as daunting."

Yoohyeon turned to him, her eyes searching his face. At that moment, with the stars as their backdrop, the tension between them crackled with an unspoken desire.

As they sat together, bathed in the soft glow of starlight, Othello couldn't help but feel a sense of longing stirring within him. And he couldn't shake the feeling that, perhaps, Yoohyeon felt it too. Othello yawned as the fatigue got to him. it was a signal for Yoohyeon to leave as Othello was probably going to go to sleep soon. Reluctantly Yoohyeon got up and began to ready herself to leave.

The fatigue of working with the crew today and maintaining his codex keeper duties left Othello exhausted, but he wanted to spend more time with Yoohyeon.

"Hey Yoon. If you want... you can stay with me...here...tonight." Othello said. Yoohyeon looked at Othello with surprise as she heard his heart race even further. she wondered if this was him being nice or if he reciprocated her budding feelings.

"Oh, I don't want to be a bother," Yoohyeon responded.

Othello felt crushed by her rejection but his heart told him to fight through it and just try again, "No please be one Yoon...Wait that came out wrong. I enjoy your time considerably." Yoohyeon noticed the little nickname he made for her. it brought her a confident sense of joy.

"Okay then sure," she said as the two lay together in the bed watching the stars. As the two got in the spooning cuddle position (Yoohyeon was a little spoon

"I read your file Othello and I have a question. How did you get the nickname Demon Dog?"

Othello laughed at the poor translation of his moniker from Eldoria Akanui which translated contextually to Hellhound, but the literal translation was "Demon Dog".

"So back when I was training under Codex Master Lorgar on Eldoria my home planet. he bestowed me the moniker Akanui "due to my ability to navigate Hellish situations with the ferocity of a raged hound. due to Eldoria having a very easy Literal translation structure. the literal translation of Akanui which is Demon Dog stuck of the contextually Hellhound." Othello explained. Yoohyeon chuckled at this adorable gaff. which inspired Othello to reach out

"Okay, so I also read your file and there is something I wanted to ask." Othello started. Yoohyeon looked at him terrified.

"What's your family like? I have a weird relationship with mine but often when I was going through yours I saw how much you cited them for giving you love and strength." Othello asked. Yoohyeon smiled as she turned around

"They are the ones who taught me to be kind to everyone. they're tough, but also gentle. They give me love every time I go back home and keep me grounded. they remind me that I am human and not some demigod of power. No matter how many fans and others try to deify me." She says happily. A homesick tear falls down her face which Othello quickly wipes away from her cheek. as they look into each other's eyes for a fleeting moment. their relationship changed. Not fully but in that moment of remembrance and sentimentality their hearts toward each other changed definitively. Yoohyeon feeling almost compelled asked Othello about his family, Othello sighed, as he tried to parse the hurt from the truth to not obfuscate who he was from Yoohyeon

"My relationship is complicated. I am what the Eldoric people called "Rigid of mind" while for the most part, I am normal appearing and biologically to others. I am from a mental capacity, not that. I was also raised in a very religious and spiritual household that held very traditional and fundamentalist views that many times I found myself disagreeing with. this served to consistently have me head with the members of my family. until I began to withdraw into myself more and more. In that I found peace outside but a war within. Anger and resentment fill my heart at a world that consistently seeks to hurt and belittle me and my accomplishments so much so that I don't know my worth most days, but at the same time despite this. they are some of the most morally sound, and soft-hearted people I know. While I would never trust them with my heart I trust them with my life, and I have learned to be okay with that. I love them as they are, and not as what I want them to be." Othello said, and Yoohyeon listened she sensed the vulnerability in his words, the anger and resentment ebb and flow as he spoke but ultimately she saw the peace he had about his family and the true love he held for him. It broke her heart that he didn't have the most glowing review of his family but despite that, he still chose to find their unified humanity and unite in that spoke to her louder than any other act of service he had presented to her. he just gave her his heart and was trusting her with it, Yoohyeon noticed this and immediately understood the responsibility she held. Othello trusted her and she wouldn't fail him, as she knew that he would never fail her. After that Yoohyeon anchored herself a little deeper into Othello's arms as the two fell asleep comfortably together.

The next day The Royal Marquis and all its inhabitants hit the halfway point of their journey. due to the previous night's intensity, Yoohyeon and Orion woke up later than usual. this caused them to miss breakfast but since they were spending a full day at the refilling station on the planet Melibone they had time to kill. Per their usual routine, the couple helped load up everything again, and this time Yoohyeon made noticeably fewer mistakes and the process went even faster. Orion was always close to her as well. everyone besides Orion and Yoohyeon noticed the almost gravitational pull the two had on each other. The Captain had barely been able to contain her smirk knowing that another Codex Keeper and Ward Witch had grown close, but in her time with both Orion and Yoohyeon she noticed they were especially well paired for each other. Yoohyeon's genuine joy and exuberance for things often mirrored Orion's unrelenting desire to know and experience things to the fullest. she knew that they had spent their "rest hours" Chatting to each other for numerous nights and often caught glances of the two giving puppy dog eyes to the other. So she was just waiting for one of them to make the first move. As the refilling finished in a record-breaking 2 hours and 30 minutes with their help she Saw Orion and Yoohyeon approach her.

"Hey, Captain everything is loaded are we good to depart?" Orion said plainly. The Captain eyed Yoohyeon's body language. she had her arms possessively wrapped around Orion's left arm. what made it even more adorable was the tracing of the codex glyphs on his skin. She also noticed that the little mantra that hung over his head changed as well. instead of Core Terran English, it was Core Terran Hangul. Her and Yoohyeon's mother tongue. She remembered him explaining how he thought it worked but she couldn't remember the actual specifics. Orion often got so excited to share his knowledge that his answers would quickly go to many layers deep in complexity. As they waited for her answer she noticed the anxiety in their touches. their bodies screamed with impatience, but their eyes and faces told a different story. The couple was fully locked in on doing their duties but their bodies had other desires. The captain wondered how long the couple would hold out before their bodies made choices that their minds weren't fully in line with.

"No we have to leave at our scheduled time frames otherwise the ports won't be ready for us and we mess scheduling for other ships yadda, yadda. Charters and Port control get mad at me so for now we will stay on Melibone and enjoy the time off. you two especially need it with all of the work you two have done over the last two hours." the captain said positively to the couple. "Go see Elric of the black blade. I heard the play is excellent."The Captain added leaving the two to explore Melibone. The first thing the couple did was get food. There was a cafe nearby the port where the two ate their first meal of the day. While eating a female voice rang out to Yoohyeon

“Yoohyeon?” Orion and Yoohyeon turned to look at the voice in the same direction of the voice. A pretty lady with dark hair ran over to the two eating. Yoohyeon smiled seeing the girl as she tightly gripped Orion’s hand.

“Jiu-unnie how are you?” Yoohyeon said happily to her coven leader. Jiu smiled as she approached and spoke to the duo.

“Oh, I'm fantastic my Codex Keeper Freyjar has been taking exceptional care of me.”

Yoohyeon heard Orion’s heart rate spike and his open fist clenched as Jiu said the name Freyjar. She looked at his face and watched his expression shift from comfort to an unreadable expression. As his heart rate mellowed it took on an unhurried pace that held an almost malevolent tone. Unaware of the silent conversation going on between Yoohyeon and Orion she sat with them. After she got comfortable she turned to her Codex Keeper who looking for her when she heard his heartbeat

“Ah Freyjar come over here,” Jiu said Jubilant. Freyjar turned to the familiar voice and walked over to see Jiu Freyjar turned to the familiar voice and walked over to see his favorite Ward Witch along with a familiar face

“Devil Dog?” Freyjar exclaimed surprised

Yoohyeon listened to Orion’s heart rate slow even further. Jiu noticed this as well but didn't want to cause a scene.

“Let's keep it professional Keeper Freyjar please call me Keeper Orion,” Orion said flatly. Jiu appreciated Orion’s attempt to diffuse the situation immensely and smiled at him. Freyjar noticed this and his heart grew jealous. Yoohyeon noticed though that Jiu and Freyjar had synchronized heartbeats whereas Orion and hers Alternated. Freyjar watched Orion with maintained an unreadable. He looked for any hint of emitting but Codex Master Lorgar taught Keeper Orion well and his face was a stoic mask. He did notice that he was latching on to The blonde lady who sat next to Jiu. That's it that's the pain point he thought.

“Okay, Keeper Orion. Who is this lady you seem keen on?” Orion tensed before Jiu came to his rescue.

“Oh this is the member of my Coven I was telling you about Yoohyeon,” Jiu explained.

Freyjar nodded still staring at Orion.

“Oh, the clumsy puppy you mentioned.”

Orion’s stoic mask slips for a moment as he turns to smile at Yoohyeon. Yoohyeon returned his smile she was happy to see it even if for a moment. The waitress arrived breaking the tension and the politics for a moment asking the group what they desired.

"Can I try one of your pastry pies one meat and one berry?" Orion asked. Melibone was known for its pastry pies and he figured such a simple meal would be hard to mess up and an excellent yet also a safe gauge for the quality of the cafe. Yoohyeon got the house special. Jiu got a simple salad and Freyjar got a steak. After that Jiu and Freyjar led the conversation as Orion barely spoke leaving Yoohyeon to speak. it was uncharacteristic of him the two often spoke and tumbled over and around each other in conversation so seeing him so guarded was concerning. She held him close and hoped he would open up.

"So Orion how is your first expedition? Is it exciting? Jiu and I have faced pirates and several webs of political intrigue," Freyjar said smugly.

"Not currently, but I appreciate the quiet. allows me to focus on my task and functions as a Codex Keeper," Orion replied measuredly. Freyjar's eyes narrowed.

"That suits you honestly. Your mediocrity has always been so baffling. I mean you barely passed trials with that mediocre Expedition you did." Freyjar teased. Jiu and Yoohyeon both froze. they sensed the growing tension between Freyjar and Orion. Freyjar was digging for a reaction and Orion wasn't giving it to him, so he kept digging deeper and deeper.

"We Graduated all the same Keeper Freyjar," Orion responded coldly.

"Yes but I mean who would want to work with someone so unimpressive? Your academic scores are average. your arbitration scores are solid I'll give you that but... that's it. you average nothing special." Freyjar said.

" Hey stop that. Keeper Orion is an excellent Codex keeper. He serves the ship and keeps everyone in high spirits.

"No Ward Witch he isn't you defend the worst of us, and all you have to say is oh he is kind. Kindness is a weakness. A codex Keeper is meant to be exemplar warrior scholars and Psion, and he's none of that." Freyjar interrupted. Jiu watched with an eagle eye as Orion's eyes twitched when Freyjar raised his voice to Yooheyon.

"Keeper Freyjar I am going to give you one chance to apologize to Ward Witch Yoohyeon," Orion said coldly

"What will you do?" Freyjar challenged Orion and didn't respond just glared silently at Freyjar, this intense psionic pressure hit him and he felt as if he was being crushed. He started to panic as breathing became labored. "Damned Pako. I am sorry Mrs. Kim" Freyjar said as he breath. Yoohyeon nodded, but hearing the name Pako sent chills down her spine. Pako was the name of the near-feral Codex keeper who went on the last major expedition with her Mentor. She had heard frightening tales about how he set a planet on fire and killed over 100 men in one day. Surely that couldn't be Orion, but she didn't know much about his past as a Codex Keeper though. The rest of the day they spent exploring Melibone the questions began to pile up and wear on her heavier with each cute moment. "What if he's a monster?" she kept asking herself.

After finishing up at the Cafe (Which Orion paid for) the group split up

When the duo arrive back at the port they are shocked to see everyone unloading The Royal Marquis. Yoohyeon and Orion quickly get back into service mode but are stopped by The Captain. "No, my two working dogs. You two rest for the rest of the day because we have new orders. In the second half of this expedition, we are going to be flying with the new mega-ship "The Dreadnaught." and taking The Royal Marquis back after we get back halfway. Also, I am under strict instructions from the new Captain to not be as fast as we were because he doesn't want to wait. so you two can rest in your new quarters tonight. Here are your room numbers and ID keys."

The duo chuckled seeing their rooms were the same numbers 307 and 310 again. After moving all of their belongings from their old quarters to their new quarters they met up in 310 (Yoohyeon’s room) this time around. As they sat together she decided to ask Othello about the Devil’s ruin

“Oh that it was a normal expedition. Just had an issue with a planet going through Civil war that was one of the port planets and to complete the mission. I brokered a peace long enough for us to get in and out of.” Othello explained

Yoohyeon knew of Devil’s run it was the ship her mentor Lady Sunshine ran, and where she had done her test. She also knew a few years back or so there was an expedition that was almost cursed. That almost took the life of Lady Sunshine, and her current apprentice Hanni, but she figured that the Codex Keeper and his apprentice who were on the ship couldn't have been related, Othello was too kind to be that merciless and seemed very hesitant to fight but today’s trip

“Hey Othello who was the ward witch on that expedition?” Yoohyeon asked cautiously.

“Oh um, I believe it was two Lady Sunshine and her at-the-time apprentice Hanni,” Othello replied calmly, and Yoohyeon’s heart sank.

“You're Pako (Hellhound), the scourge of Theros. You led a one-man campaign from Nykthos to Meletis. You're a war monster. ” Yoohyeon interjected. Othello’s heart sinks as Yoohyeon says his epithet. He gets up to leave understanding that her affection may have turned into hate. Yoohyeon watched relieved as he left but something stirred within Yoohyeon that made her supersede her mentor's warnings. She got up between him and the doors. “Tell me why you did it?” she asked.

Othello answered slowly, “To ensure everyone’s safety on Devil’s ruin I had to do some truly unpleasant things, and I didn't like the way people watched doing these things. The looks of disgust and disdain I got for playing the bad guy when I had to. I had to Kill Helios, and Hades to make sure everyone got home safe. I had to stack those bodies, on not only Theros but on Ixialan and Bant and all of those other planets we fought on that accursed expedition. The horror of it all though was while in it I had never felt more alive. I didn't have to worry about hiding behind masks. There were no discussions about offenses and hesitations or the mincing of words it was straightforward and all my choices mattered I thrived in that hell which is why I guess everyone looks at me as terrible because I thrived in it, but I'd rather be a warlord in a garden then a Gardner in a war.”

Yoohyeon was taken aback by Othello’s Alacrity himself but still very much reconciling with the revelation that he was a warlord…a reluctant warlord but a Warlord nonetheless. Despite learning about Othello's past, Yoohyeon couldn't shake the deep connection she felt with him. As they sat together in her room, his words about his past weighed heavily on her mind. Yet, when she looked into his eyes, she saw genuine remorse and vulnerability, which only deepened her empathy for him.

"Othello," she began softly, reaching out to touch his hand, "I understand that you've had to make difficult choices in the past. But that doesn't change how I feel about you." Her heart raced as she spoke, her hand trembling slightly against his.

Othello’s gaze met hers, his expression a mix of gratitude and disbelief. "You... you still feel the same way?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Yoohyeon nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Yes, I do. Because despite everything, I see the person you are now—the kind, compassionate man who's always there for me. That's the Othello I've come to care about, and nothing can change that."

As they sat together, their hands intertwined, Yoohyeon felt a renewed sense of connection with Othello. Despite his past, she couldn't deny the chemistry between them or the hope she held for their future together. She did have one question remaining,

“Where was your support when this all happened? Why do all the stories paint you as doing this all on your own?” Orion considers Yoohyeon’s words and thought about the cleanest answer before he replied

“They say in War there is this fog war this uncertainty whenever one engages in large-scale combat engagements. To me, it's a spotlight I know what I need to do and when it needs to be done, so it's all a matter of performance and that's liberating at least for me. Take my battle with Helios. I had no idea he was going to set his city on fire to stop me all I knew was that if I defeated him I would be successful. So everything I did that night. Saving the children women and men as Pompeii burned Nykthos Freeing Kruphix teaming up with Xenagos to finish Helios were all part of taking hold of the spotlight and doing all I could with it.”

Yooyheon watched in wonder as Othello spoke with childlike innocence about his experience. She didn't realize that he never set Pompeii to blow. All the stories about it only mention it as a major event going on. They also never mentioned him saving people. Every record only mentions his fight with Helios and the total fatality count. It also never mentioned Kruphix (who is the current and beloved leader of a unified Theros Along with his lover Klothys) all of these critical facts drastically change the story of how she saw the story. Whenever Othello told stories his contained hope and this striving to be better for the sake of others made her realize something deeper about him. He wasn't some moral-lacking warlord. He was a boy trying to live up to his Heroes and the expectations placed upon him. this made everything click about Othello. Yoohyeon smiled overwhelmed by seeing him in a new light she grabbed his collar and kissed him their kiss lasting several minutes. When the two broke the kiss Othello was speechless. As he stared at Yoohyeon trying to catch his breath.

“Whoa.” was all Othello could manage.

“You want to be a hero. You want to do the right thing. Vanquish evil and save the princess.” Yoohyeon said. “Tell me the full story,” Yoohyeon said her eyes lit with Joy. Othello looked at her confused before acquiescing to her as he always did.

“When we arrived on Theros we were only supposed to be there for 25 hours to load and unload we had guaranteed safe passage for being with the federation as long as we stayed neutral which we did. We talked to no one housed no prisoners and no one even left the port. At the fourth hour, the Nykthos private militia came for Lorgar (larger originally hails from Theros and was a child soldier under Heliod before leaving the planet, which everyone knew but Heliod took offense to so we are all taken as prisoners to be executed via the fighting pits. My master doesn't rattle easily but the situation rattled him. We enter the fight pits and I go on an absolute tear of victories. 22 to be exact the crowd loves it they love me. So I decided to leverage this love to declare the fight for everyone who is enslaved currently’s freedom. This is the part where I kinda blackout and go 121-0 this ends with Helios having to free everyone in the prison. He only has one condition we leave with all the prisoners. We accept that beside us the only prisoners are a man named Kruphix and his son Xenagos. So we leave but I don't trust Helios so I go over our ship and find bombs planted on them. I tell Lorgar who tells the federation. The Federation declares an immediate act of intervention when the leaders of Thermos decide to let the planet burn. So Tiro removes him and his husband from power and leaves the planet. But Heliod sets off to Pompeii the planet-destroying Volcano central to Theros and says to everyone “I'll turn this planet into a burial ground” Lorgar is adamant we leave but I can't in good conscience let an entire planet die so I tell him

“If I lose my life today may I not see you tomorrow before I fight my way to Nykthos. Devil’s Ruin leaves me on Nykthos. I challenge Helios for the city and I beat him. As he reeling in his loss he decides to stab me. Xenagos covers me and kills Helios but he dies protecting me I stop the volcano and give the rule back to Kruphix and he reinstates their previous form of government. The federation arrives too and they get me back onto the Devil’s ruin to the surprise and chagrin of everyone on the ship.”

Yoohyeon sat enthralled as she listened as Othello finished his story. Yoohyeon moved closer to him, and a heavy silence hung in the air, both of them processing the weight of his words. Yoohyeon sat beside him, her gaze softening with a newfound understanding and admiration for the man beside her.

"Othello," she began, her voice gentle yet filled with sincerity, "I had no idea... what you went through, what you sacrificed. You're incredibly brave, you know that?"

Othello met her gaze, a hint of vulnerability flickering in his eyes. His heartbeat spiked causing Yoohyeon's smile to grow a little bit. She loved the feeling she gave that made his heart race, " I wouldn't consider it brave it was just the right thing to do…Thank you though, Yoohyeon. It means a lot to hear you say that."

Yoohyeon reached out, gently placing her hand on his arm. "You're not just a warlord or a hero, Othello. You're a person who faced impossible choices and did what you had to do to protect others. That takes incredible strength and courage."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Othello's lips, touched by Yoohyeon's words. "I never thought of it that way... but hearing you say it... it means everything."

Their eyes locked an unspoken understanding passing between them. In that moment, they shared a profound connection, a bond forged through honesty and vulnerability. Yoohyeon felt her admiration for Othello deepen into something more, a warmth blooming in her chest that she couldn't ignore.

"And you know," Yoohyeon continued, her voice softening, "I'm here for you, Othello. Whatever you need, whatever you're going through... you don't have to face it alone."

Othello's expression softened, gratitude shining in his eyes. "Thank you, Yoohyeon. That means the world to me."

As they sat together in the quiet of Yoohyeon's room, their hands intertwined, a sense of closeness enveloped them. At that moment, they both knew that their bond had deepened into something more than friendship. before anything else could happen the door opened to Yoohyeon's room to Siyeon, Jiu, Sua, Dami, Marcus, Elric, Freyjar, and Ayara. Orion instantly tenses seeing them which Yoohyeon notices she grabs his hand.

Throughout the second half of the trip, Yoohyeon and Orion fell into very different patterns. the new Captain Claw is very standoffish with the two new additions to his crew Orion and Yoohyeon, despite both efforts to make themselves helpful. This captain wasn't fond of Keepers nor Ward Witches so having multiples both on his ship sent him on edge. He believed they discarded their humanity for power. Sadly due to Orion's aversion to being around the other Keepers, he stayed with The captain more often. As the two watched over the port and the ship the captain softened slowly to the Keeper. Whereas most Keepers he had seen ashew their humanity he was surprised to see one cling so desperately to his. it was interesting, to say the least.

Yoohyeon spent a lot of time with Jiu and Siyeon though which meant a lot of time with Freyjar, and Ayara. She was surprised to see their perceptions of Orion. Freyjar harbored Jealousy towards the other Keeper, and Ayara lived in abject terror of him which was surprising since she only had positive things to say about him. so she did her best to avoid mentioning Orion in either's presence. This became difficult because Siyeon and Jiu wanted to know every detail about Orion. So in fielding these questions, she spent a lot of time away from Orion.

this led to him working with the crew a lot more and as their interactions became fleeting and Yoohyeon became more enmeshed with more traditional Keeper and Ward Witch relations she grew more irritable. there was this insincerity that everyone around her head kept her guard. She couldn't be who she was, nor could she say what she wanted as freely as when she was with Orion, and so her clumsiness started to plague her again, Jiu covered her and helped her but while it was familiar it wasn't what she wanted. she often found herself saying in her head "Orion would have told her she messed up here and given her his big dumb smile telling her it would be alright."

Eventually, the stress of being perfect got to her and she lashed at Sua. She messed up a basic spell that made Sua laugh and Yoohyeon just snapped.

"Unnie don't you have anything better to do? I mean come on I barely messed up, besides haven't you also messed up this spell as well." She snapped. Surprised Sua looked at Yoohyeon her magic lines were changing and growing.

In a calculated move Jiu told Yoohyeon to find Orion, She wanted to ask him about something. Yoohyeon groaned "Can't you do it yourself unnie?" Luckily Orion just happened to be in between chores as he became as indispensable to Claw as he had been with the previous captain. He saw Yoohyeon and waved. Yoohyeon saw him and for a moment her burden eased. her heart rate slowed to a reasonable pace and each other Ward Witch knew what to do.

"Oh Orion how are you?" Dami asked

"I am good Dami just enjoying the little free time I have. The Captain needed to have a crew meeting and gave me some time off."

"Why are you helping the crew so much?" Freyjar questioned annoyed.

"Because I don't like spending time with y'all honestly," Orion said bluntly.

Jiu, Dami, Elric, and Marcus laughed. Yoohyeon pouted. then got up

"Well since you're being such a dick I'll leave." She said.

"Yoon wait I wanted to ask you something."

"Oh, now you want to talk to me?" Yoohyeon said

"Yes I miss you and I want to spend time with you." Orion made sure to emphasize you with Yoohyeon. She didn't catch on to this as she was operating under the "I don't like spending time with y'all"

"Oh really just a couple of seconds ago you were eager to say how little you enjoyed time with us all."

"Yes, All emphasis on all. because minus Freyjar, Ayara, and (Orion looks over to Sua who licks her lips at him with a seductive look. Orion points at Sua). I enjoy spending time with you all individually." Yoohyeon knew that Sua was teasing the poor keeper, she liked boys who flustered easily and Orion flustered very easily. So she was constantly teasing him, but in that moment of the weight of being the crown jewel of Dreamcatcher's coven, it was just another annoyance.

"Gosh, I can't believe I ever liked you... you're such a dick. you know what Maybe Freyjar is right about you. you're mediocre at everything so you try to hide it by busying yourself."

The air shifted. Orion tensed. Every Ward Witch heard his heart rate spike and then go dangerously low, this was the lowest it's ever been. Orion tried very much to see Yoohyeon's perspective but he was seeing red. he chose his next actions extremely meticulously. He slowed his breathing and took 5 deep breaths before leaving. Yoohyeon swore she saw black lines of magic manifest on his body for a moment as a bizarre monster crawled around his left shoulder.

"Go ahead leave, and be forgotten because who wants a hero? Heroes are childish." Yoohyeon spat.

The air shifted again and the temperature dropped. Freyjar smirked as he made eye contact with Orion. his plan of feeding Yoohyeon all his drivel finally pays off. The stoic mask she wore cracked.

"You take that back," Orion said. his voice shifted into an active that was unfamiliar to all present. Red hot tears streamed down Orion's eyes, as he turned to face Yoohyeon. Yoohyeon's surprise was palpable. She took a step back and saw the emotions swirling within Orion, and her heart softened. She also realized she pushed him a bit too far.

"Orion I am so sorry.

Freyjar's laugh drowned out her apology

"No, No Yoohyeon. You almost had him. he was this close to breaking down like the sad man-child he is. Don't apologize for the real world is a vicious and vile place, with no place for heroes." Freyjar said. Orion's Stoic mask broke. he turned to him.

"Everyone looks down on me. Everyone always points to my naivety, saying it's a problem that I am too childish when I live in this hellscape of a Galaxy ruled over by people like you. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you." Orion repeated.

Before anyone could react He warped to Freyjar grabbed him by his collar and threw him and every one in another warp to the arena. He summons his War spade and makes a room closing around Him and Freyjar. Yoohyeon knew of his Claustrophobia and how it drove him mad which would make reaching out to Orion that much harder. Knowing this she began clawing at the barrier. When that didn't work she began chanting spells, but in her stress and panic she kept making tiny mistakes ruining the efficacy of her spells and strengthening the barrier that Orion had created

"you say I am not special. well, let's play a game. I am going to hit you until I get tired or you stop me. if you die eh, if not cool. Begin." as soon as he said that the room began closing triggering Orion's Claustrophobia. His rage compounded by the panic created a unique combination of desperation that pushed him to fight as hard as possible. Yoohyeon knew she had to stop this as this was all her fault. Orion closed in on Freyjar who summoned his sword (named Summer) and made an excellent lunge, that was easily dodged by Orion. Orion raised his weapon and with one mighty swing, he swung the flat side of his war spade.

a sickening crunch could be heard as Freyjar hit the floor after being hit by Orion's weapon. The Ward Witches understanding that Orion was so far gone broke through the barrier *barely with their combined power. Orion turned to face them as they encircled him. Their faces were filled with fear and terror but also pity. Pity that drove Orion to higher depths of rage. the faces replaced themselves with others who held similar looks in the past. their words rang out to him

"Violent tendencies, Rigid personality. An immature child." these were all phrases that their looks said to him, but Orion was done playing by the rules of a world he deemed beneath him at that moment. His mask of Stoicism shattered beyond repair. Now everyone saw who he was under all the calm, under all the kindness, all the amicability; A boy forced to grow into a world that hated him and what he valued, and that weighed heavily on everyone present. Especially Yoohyeon it broke her heart that she of all people was to push him this far.

"Don't you dare look at me like that? You all wanted the monster you tell tales of the Great Demon Dog of Eldora. You created this," Orion yelled

Then silence hung in the air as his proclamation rang true. He was a monster the systems that they all believed in created someone who needed to stop him, and Yoohyeon stepped up.

"Orion I am so sorry." She said with tears in her eyes Yoohyeon's apology hung in the air, heavy with regret as she watched Orion's tears fall. The weight of her words hit her with a force she hadn't anticipated, and for the first time, she saw the vulnerability beneath his stoic exterior.

Orion's response was immediate, his voice trembling with emotion as he struggled to regain his composure. "You... you hurt me, Yoohyeon," he managed to say, his words choked with pain. "I thought... I thought you understood me, but..." His voice trailed off, lost in the turmoil of his emotions.

Yoohyeon felt a pang of guilt pierced her heart as she witnessed the raw anguish in Orion's eyes. She had never seen him like this before, stripped of his usual calm demeanor, and it shook her to the core. With a shaky breath, she stepped closer to him, reaching out to gently touch his arm.

"Orion, I didn't mean... I didn't mean to hurt you," she whispered, her voice trembling with remorse. "I was... I was angry, and I lashed out without thinking. But that's no excuse for what I said. I know you're not... you're not mediocre. You're extraordinary, and I... I was wrong to doubt you." she grabbed Orion and pulled him into a hug. he collapsed in her arms.

"Why does everyone hate me?" he asked vulnerably. "Why do they push me to hurt them?" he asked. Yoohyeon held him as he cried The other Ward Witches gave them space to not interfere. Orion was bested, not by might but by emotion. "I try to help and be a Hero like Z, or Saber, or Val-Zod, or Orion and they all look at me like I am wrong and I should fall into their ways," Orion said through cold tears. Yoohyeon held him close as the others left. Eventually, they traversed back to Orion's room, and for the first time in weeks, Yoohyeon felt safe. she and Orion spent the rest of the day together holding each other close. their bodies making up for lost time and connection as their minds processed everything. Orion also never dismissed his war axe. Yoohyeon noticed this and decided to take her next step in understanding him.

"You cling to your war spade why?" Yoohyeon asked

"It makes me feel safe. Lorgar made it for me after I lost one of the many swords that Keepers usually wield. Often my strength is hard to withhold so the dainty long swords that other Keepers wield often chip and shatter under my grasp. He built this for me using Materials from across my solar system, and he named it Apokolips after keeping in line with my name." Othello explained

Yoohyeon nodded understanding which led to her next line of questions "You mentioned your name came from a comic character what was his story?" Yoohyeon asked eager to see more of Othello, and less of Orion for today. She also loved the way Orion told his stories. he was always so expressive.

"So in all of DC comics, there is one villain that stands above all. his name is Darkseid. He wields the omeaga effect a powerful bevy of abilities that make him the most dangerous villain in the universe, but he has a son who in a calculated move by both parties to gain intel on the other Darkseid gives his son Orion to the peace-loving and heroic High Father of New Genesis. the high father does the same with his son. This leads to a Villain being raised by a hero and a hero being raised by a villain. Orion despite his nature becomes one of the greatest heroes in the DC universe, and it is made all the more grandiose by his refusal to give in to his darker impulses." Othello explains

Yoohyeon smiled and, said, "Do you have darker impulses, Mr. Hero?"

"Yes, I do. Every day I see the weakness and folly in those around me, and I wonder to myself if it would be easier if I ruled. If I trampled over the old war and made a new one but better, but I am reminded that many people wouldn't benefit from that cruel a ruler and so I remain steadfast in heroism." Othello replied.

"So where does the name Apokolips come from in Orion's story? why is that significant." Yoohyeon asked.

"Oh, I forgot Apokolips is the planet Orion was born on," Othello replies. Yoohyeon laughs in comfort as she cuddles closer to Othello.

"I've missed you so much," she said.

"I have as well," Othello replied

"Why didn't you make time for me then?" Yoohyeon asked skeptical

"I didn't want to get in the way of you and those close to you," Othello answered, and Yoohyeon turned to him.

"You're cavity-inducingly sweet you know that right?" Yoohyeon replies

"that is a new phrase but I'll keep it in mind," Othello replies.

“I always forget you're not from Earth, I guess the bronze metallic skin and glowing runes should have been a dead giveaway.” Yoohyeon chuckled

“Wait really?” Othello questioned

“Yeah, your English is consistently clear easy to distinguish the words. How did you get so good?” Yoohyeon asked with genuine intrigue

“Honestly reading comics and watching Superhero videos from Earth. It gave a path of translation to a lot of ideas and concepts I had but didn't have the tools to express, all of the vibrant colors create a contrast from a majority of Earth’s content being almost monotone. Like so many of the stories told boil down to the same thing, and I have noticed at least in the hero genre of storytelling they go above and beyond in all facets so the stories pop more. I've read both George Orwell and Walter Simonson and I remember more of the latter’s work than the former.” Othello explained

“Oh really. Do you have any of the comics you read?” Yoohyeon asked. Othello nodded. “Can you read me one?” Yoohyeon asked. Othello nodded again as he got up and grabbed book one of Orion by Walter Simpson, and he began to read it to her.

Tales of Orion's Challenge spread quickly over the coming weeks. The Captain urges to avoid bringing any of it up but does chuckle as he was quite annoyed with Keeper Freyjar so having someone take him down a peg made him smile.

Eventually, reports reached outside of the ship, and a conflict resolution meeting was forced upon all of the Ward Witches and the Codex Keepers.

The 12 coven Mothers and three Codex Masters oversaw the meeting through Video call. Lady Sunshine was surprised to see Orion among those present. Orion pleasantly waved at her Lorgar and greeted her with a bit more enthusiasm. It was then that it all clicked for Lady Sunshine and who she had set her apprentice up with.

Lorgar knowing that his apprentice wasn't just fighting people wildly asked one question,

"Keeper Orion. What happened."

Orion explained it as he recorded ( he left out all of his emotions on the matter which was noted by everyone present), but as soon as they got to the part where Yoohyeon started attacking heroism. Everyone who knew Orion Knew that was what sent him over the edge.

"Yoohyeon how could you?" Lady Sunshine interjected when Orion explained Yoohyeon's part.

Uncomfortable with seeing Yoohyeon yell at Orion was quick to take the blame.

"No Lady Sunshine the fault is mine. I neglected my duties as a Keeper to stay in contact with my assigned Ward Witch leaving the air for tension despite external factors the fault of Keeper Freyjar's injuries are all mine."

Lady Sunshine was left speechless (a rare occurrence) and Lorgar swelled with pride and knowing. Orion's demeanor and presence were all there. Lorgar also noticed the way he looked at Yoohyeon and the closeness the two displayed at the beginning of the meeting. Orion was smitten and protecting his paramour. Lorgar laughed internally. What was concerning was the revelation that it took 5 Ward Witches to break his barrier. His powers were exponentially increasing again. A fact that was not lost on the other Codex Masters.

"What do you mean barely cracked the barrier?" Lady Moonlight asked

"My powers have been volatile often increasing their efficacies in moments of high stress. So it took the combined efforts of the 5 present Ward Witches to break the Simple barrier I made." Orion answered a look of terror went through the Ward Witches Council

“But why use your phobias as a means to secure a victory?” lady Moonlight asked curious

“Because I'd rather die than lose,” Orion explained

“Wait what is your name Keeper?” lady Twilight asked

“Orion Lady Twilight.” Orion acknowledged. A look of recognition crossed over the weathered and wrinkled face of the elder Ward Witch.

"Wait you're Pako the scourge of Theros? Aren't you boy?" Lady Twilight asked. Orion gritted his teeth and nodded.

"Well no wonder you nearly killed him. You know you're classified as a weapon of mass destruction by the federation." Lady Twilight reminded, and this changed the atmosphere of the meeting. "I don't know why the federation caters to you. You are a verified world-ending threat with the temperament of a child," Orion's response sends chills throughout the room.

"The same reason I let the Federation get away with all of its wrongs going through the process of addressing it would assure both of our destruction, but make no mistake. I am always aware of how you all see. I am a threat and I will always be as long as I stay true to who I am. My response let me be and I'll let you be." Lady Twilight didn't appreciate Orion's flippant tone but she respected that he stood for with spine unlike so many in the federation.

"Proudly displaying that Eldorian Backbone I have heard so much about. I may not like you but I respect it. Take care of Sua for me."

"Oh, you're Sua's mentor that explains a lot. You have my word to the best of my ability I will protect everyone you place under me." After that, the meeting was over with the leaders understanding that it was a simple misunderstanding and that at least one adult was handling it.

after the meeting, Yoohyeon and Othello sat alone in his room. He was reading Orion to her and she was cradled in his arms and body listening to his voice ease her but she just kept feeling this uncomfortable heat well inside her. She constantly was shifting trying to get comfortable but couldn't. Yoohyeon's and Othello's feelings for each other have reached a fever pitch, and their bodies are fed up with their minds

"Hey, Othello," Yoohyeon said.

Othello looks to Yoohyeon and she kisses him with an intense fervor. this kiss ignites a fire deep within the two. when it breaks Yoohyeon teases Othello when she feels his erection poke her.

"Well someone is excited." She comes in a sexy voice. Othello moans.

"Well yeah, have you seen how hot you are." Othello challenged

Yoohyeon smiles a rosy blush crossing her face. "Oh baby Flattery will get you everywhere." she goes in for another kiss this time with more passion. Othello's and Yoohyeon's tongues meet and dance while they kiss. Neither looks for dominance but dances with a willing partner.

Yoohyeon smiled as she gripped tightly onto Othello. Their kiss broke the built tension of the last 4 months 1 week and three days. They break this kiss, and the solid foundation of love and adoration they felt for each other quickly melts into liquid desire and lust. the two tear off the clothes of each other, and go back to kissing. Yoohyeon can barely contain her eagerness as she stares into Othello's eyes she can tell he feels the same. She goes back in for another kiss as the two lovers paw at the other's naked forms. Hands intermingle and dance with bodies as lovers begin to familiarize themselves with each other in this intimate moment. Yoohyeon breaks their kiss and looks into Othello's eyes. Yoohyeon nestles closer to Othello tentatively, her heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and longing. the stress of all this tension she felt being by him washed over her along with the overwhelming safety she felt. She reached out, gently cupping his face in her hands, drawing him closer until their lips were mere inches apart.

Their eyes met, a silent exchange of emotions passing between them. And then, unable to resist any longer, they closed the distance, their lips meeting in a tender kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in the moment, the world around them fading into insignificance. For Yoohyeon, it was a moment of clarity, a realization of the depth of her feelings for Othello.

As they broke apart, breathless and flushed with emotion, Yoohyeon gazed into Othello's eyes, her voice trembling with vulnerability.

"Othello," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I love you."

The words hung in the air, the weight of them echoing in the silence that followed. Yoohyeon's heart raced as she waited for his response, her entire being consumed by the intensity of her confession.

Othello's eyes widened in surprise, his own emotions swirling beneath the surface. He reached out, taking Yoohyeon's hand in his, a gentle smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"Yoohyeon," he said softly, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "I love you too."

And at that moment, amidst the chaos and uncertainty of their world, they found solace in each other's arms, their love a beacon of hope in the darkness. As they began to kiss again Othello began tracing Yoohyeon’s tattoos. Yoohyeon giggled as she was tickled by Othello’s surprisingly soft hands. As his hands travel around her body Othello’s psionics begin to unravel around the two in a mirroring way to Yoohyeon’s magic (small aside: typically Psionics and mages aren't supposed to consummate relationships under the effects of their special abilities but for how ingrained Yoohyeon and Othello’s abilities are to their sense of self it's hard to separate their powers from themselves) passionate and fiery crimson energy and the physical manifestation of Othello’s psionics crashes into Yoohyeon’s cool sea foam green arcane weave. As their energies intermingle the two begin copulating. Yooyheon sinks onto Othello’s cock and moans. When she adjusts to him residing within her she opens her eyes to see him breathless under her. She smiles as she begins to ride him. In hopes of reciprocity, Othello meets her halfway with thrusts of his own into her sex. Yoohyeon moans as Othello fills her up. She watches as Othello watches carefully trying to ascertain her reactions and make her feel as pleased as possible. Yoohyeon smiles and puts his hands on her ample ass.

“Give it to me.” Yoohyeon encourages and so begins the slow and deep methodical thrusts of Othello. Eager to please he plunges in her pussy and slowly pulls out 75% of the way before plunging in again, and again. As he thrust into her he slightly changed angles to see what Yoohyeon liked. On the fifth repetition, he found it and Yoohyeon screamed. “They're right there,” she yelled as he hit her G-spot. Having a greenlight Othello picked up his pace while reaching down to her clit. Extending his finger he traced figure eights around the bud. This combination sent Yoohyeon reeling. Her eyes rolled back and she moaned.

“Keep going. I'm so close,” she screamed excitedly Othello obliged and picked up Yoohyeon and increased his pace. The change in angle allowed Othello to reach further into Yoohyeon who smiled as their faces became even as he lifted her up and down. Yoohyeon lost herself to pleasure as she was ravaged by Othello’s rod. Eventually, she couldn't take it, and her orgasm tore through her tight frame.

“Oh God.” She yelled before cumming all over Othello’s cock. Othello continued his work on Yoohyeon until her walls contracted in such a way that seemed to milk him almost, but what took him over the edge was Yoohyeon saying. “Please cum in me. I need it I need to feel you all of you.” her words sent metering to his orgasm, and he began to paint her walls white with his seed. Yoohyeon groaned as her sex only grew tighter. After what seemed like hours the couple’s bodies calmed down.

Yoohyeon spoke, ”So who's your favorite member of my coven now?” she teased.

“Aish.” Othello groaned but was quick to smile as he pulled her close.

In the coming weeks, Yoohyeon completely divested herself from her Coven friends and spent all of her time with Orion, and they fell into familiar patterns of helping the crew and Captain. The crew appreciated Yooyheon’s help immensely as being able to instantly fix numerous problems at one time was such a relief. She spent less time stressing about appearing perfect and poise and just living her clumsiness also faded. The others kept their distance especially Freyjar who was reeling over the fact that 5 Coven Bound Ward Witches had to save him from someone he deemed as lesser. Especially since Orion was given no consequence for his actions. He was scolded by his Codex Master for riling up the young man. The worst insult (minus the cracked jaw) was that Orion apologized. He considered his actions beneath himself the nerve, of him. Freyjar would mend his wounded pride and get his retribution. As tensions simmered aboard the ship, Freyjar seethed with resentment in the confines of his quarters. His bruised jaw throbbed with every pulse of anger, a constant reminder of his humiliation at the hands of Orion. But Freyjar was not one to suffer such indignity lightly.

Gazing into the reflection of his own anger-filled eyes in the mirror, Freyjar formulated his plan for revenge. He knew he couldn't confront Orion directly; the Codex Keeper's growing influence among the crew made him untouchable. No, Freyjar would have to be more cunning.

With a smirk curling his lips, Freyjar began to reach out to like-minded crew members, whispering words of dissent against Orion's leadership. He found willing ears among those who harbored their grievances, promising them power and prestige in exchange for their allegiance.

Meanwhile, Yoohyeon found herself caught in the middle of the growing tension. Her loyalty to Orion was unwavering, but she couldn't ignore the undercurrent of discord spreading throughout the crew. Sensing trouble brewing, she tried to mediate, but her efforts seemed futile against the rising tide of animosity.

One evening, as the crew gathered for their nightly meal, Freyjar made his move. With calculated precision, he subtly turned the conversation against Orion, planting seeds of doubt and discontent among the crew. Orion arrived at the meal late with Yoohyeon. The couple was surprised to see the multitude of glares presented to them.

Caught off guard by the sudden shift in the atmosphere, Yoohyeon watched helplessly as the situation escalated. She knew she had to act quickly to prevent further conflict, but the rift between her crew and her friends seemed to widen with each passing moment.

As tensions reached a breaking point, Yoohyeon made a split-second decision. Stepping forward, she confronted Freyjar, her voice filled with determination.

"Freyjar, this ends now. We're all on the same side here, and we need to work together if we're going to survive out here in the vastness of space."

Freyjar's gaze hardened, but Yoohyeon held her ground, refusing to back down. Behind her, Orion watched with a mixture of concern and gratitude, realizing just how much Yoohyeon meant to him. Orion smiled. Orion had been doing a lot of that lately with Yoohyeon he noticed. In hopes of de-escalating the tension, he made a silent gesture for himself and Yoohyeon to leave. So they did.

Watching Orion flee swelled Freyjar with pride as the two left the cafeteria with their tails between their legs.

As the expedition came to a close the tensions reduced as well. All was quiet that was until the last day.

As they were doing the paperwork and needed documentation, to wrap up their duties for the last 8 months A blip happened.

Arriving at the spaceport a little late due to an asteroid field’s interference the group was greeted not by federation members but by Pirates The Dreadbeard Pirates to be exact. They were the most dangerous and massive pirate organization in this region of the galaxy and expanding. They were ruthless and often left no survivors. So when their ship was boarded and Captain Claw was killed there was only one person to look to as a leader.

“So who's the Captain of this ship?” Dreadbeard said as his blade left Claw’s chest. Orion stood motionless as the remaining crew pointed to him.

“Aye, a codex Keeper and a Captain that's a rare sight.”

“Well, I just got promoted. You just killed the Captain.” Orion responded

Dreadbeard laughed “Fair Fair. Hopefully, you'll be more reasonable than he was.

“No I'm worse, but I am more sporting. So here is my play. I don't want to have to clean up and do paperwork to fix this mess so we’ll vacate, and we will forget this ever happened. I'll come up with a legitimate reason as to why Captain Claw was dead because otherwise, I'll kill you and anyone who stands by you.” Orion answered

Dreadbeard smiled as he raised his sword but before he could even mount an attack he noticed a cold feeling in his chest. He looked down to see a spade connected by a psionic chain thrown from Orion. He looked up

“I feel cold,” he said as he fell to the ground. Orion turned to the rest of the pirates. As the pirates watched their captain collapse to the ground, a hushed silence fell over the ship dock. Orion's eyes bore into each of them, his expression unreadable yet filled with an unmistakable intensity.

"Now, here's how it's going to be," Orion declared, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "You have two choices: you can leave this spaceport peacefully, or you can join your captain on the ground."

The pirates exchanged nervous glances, unsure of how to respond to this unexpected turn of events. They had expected a fight, a display of dominance from their captain, but they had not anticipated the swift and decisive action that Orion had just taken.

One by one, the pirates began to lower their weapons, their bravado crumbling in the face of Orion's unwavering resolve. They knew better than to challenge a Codex Keeper, especially one who had just dispatched their fearsome captain with such ease.

"Alright, we're leaving," one of the pirates muttered, his voice tinged with defeat as he gestured for his comrades to follow suit.

Orion watched as the pirates retreated to their ship, their tails between their legs. He knew that this encounter was far from over, that the Dreadbeard Pirates would undoubtedly seek retribution for their fallen captain. But for now, he had bought the crew precious time to regroup and strategize their next move.

As the last of the pirates disappeared into the darkness of the spaceport, Orion turned to his crew, his gaze unwavering.

"Prepare for departure," he commanded his voice firm yet tinged with a hint of urgency. "We need to get out of here before they come back with reinforcements."

With a sense of purpose, the crew sprang into action, their movements swift and coordinated as they prepared to leave the spaceport behind and face whatever challenges awaited them in the vast expanse of the galaxy. As they set course for their next destination, Orion couldn't help but feel a sense of annoyance building within him, knowing that they were close to being finished only to make things exponentially messier. He groaned as they changed course to Terra.

This led to The Dreadnaught arriving back to Terra 45 minutes later. Upon arrival, everyone dispersed except for Yoohyeon and Orion who due to being captain had to do closing paperwork. After that Yoohyeon followed Orion to his post-expedition debrief where he dropped off this expedition’s codex. After that, the couple was finally free.

Othello now off duty stood next to Yoohyeon and asked “So dear what do you want to do now?”

Yoohyeon smiled, “It doesn't matter as long as you're with me we can do whatever.”

“Yoon I meant in the short term.” Yoohyeon burst into an embarrassed smile. Oh well, let's get some food then.” Othello gave a thumbs-up and followed his paramour

As they walked through the bustling streets of Terra, Yoohyeon, and Othello were enveloped in the lively atmosphere of the planet's capital. Neon signs flickered overhead, casting colorful reflections on the pavement below, while the sound of chatter and laughter filled the air.

"Hey, how about that place?" Yoohyeon suggested, pointing to a cozy-looking café nestled between two towering skyscrapers.

Othello glanced at the café and nodded in agreement. "Looks good to me," he replied with a smile.

They entered the café and found a table by the window, where they could watch the hustle and bustle of the city while enjoying their meal. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the tantalizing scent of baked goods.

As they perused the menu, Yoohyeon couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over her. Despite the chaos and danger they often faced in their line of work, moments like these were what made it all worthwhile – simple, everyday moments spent with the person she loved.

Their conversation flowed effortlessly as they waited for their food to arrive, touching on everything from their favorite memories to their hopes and dreams for the future. As they shared laughter and stories, Yoohyeon couldn't shake the feeling that she was exactly where she was meant to be – by Othello's side, exploring the vast and wondrous galaxy together.

Yoohyeon smiled, her heart full of love for the man sitting across from her. "And I wouldn't change a single moment of it," she replied, reaching across the table to gently squeeze his hand.

As they savored their meal and each other's company, Yoohyeon couldn't help but feel grateful for the journey that had brought them together – a journey filled with adventure, danger, and, most importantly, love. And as they lingered in the café, lost in their little world, Yoohyeon knew that their story was far from over – it was only just beginning.

As they sat together in the cozy warmth of their shared quarters, Yoohyeon leaned into Othello’s embrace, feeling a sense of contentment wash over her. She cherished these quiet moments they spent together, wrapped up in each other’s arms, sharing stories and memories.

“And that’s it, the story of how we first met,” Othello recounted, closing his journal with a satisfied smile. Yoohyeon couldn’t help but smile in return, her heart swelling with affection for the man beside her. She still hadn’t tired of the way he told stories, especially ones as significant as their own.

Sitting up beside Othello, Yoohyeon flashed him a toothy grin, which he mirrored with a happy smile of his own.

“Two years and still going strong. Impressive,” she remarked, her voice filled with warmth.

“Yeah, it’s been a crazy ride. We’ve outlasted Jiu and Frey, which was a surprise to me since we fight way more than those two ever did,” Othello corroborated, a hint of amusement in his tone.

Yoohyeon chuckled, her gaze softening as she looked at Othello. Despite the ups and downs they had faced, their relationship had only grown stronger over time. And as they sat together, basking in the glow of their shared love, Yoohyeon knew that there was nowhere else she’d rather be than by Othello’s side.

Yoohyeon laughed, “Well when fight we arrive at some resolutions instead of letting resentment build, and our makeup sex is better” she stated bluntly taking a page from Othello’s book

“Fair.” Othello acquiesced

Yoohyeon smiled as she began stroking him again. Othello smiled before getting up and lining himself with Yoohyeon. He plunges into her familiar and comforting cavern.

“Oh yes,” Yoohyeon mewls as he plunges into her. As Yoohyeon's playful touches grew more intense, Othello found himself lost in the moment, the warmth of her affection enveloping him like a comforting embrace. But as her hands grazed his skin, he felt a sudden tension in the air, a subtle shift that brought his senses back to the present.

With a gentle touch, Yoohyeon's fingers brushed against the bandages that concealed Othello's hidden secret. In an instant, the fabric gave way, revealing the intricate black lines of magic etched across his skin. The air crackled with energy as Yoohyeon's eyes widened in surprise, her gaze drawn to the mesmerizing patterns that danced across Othello's flesh.

"Othello, what... what is this?" Yoohyeon's voice trembled with a mixture of dwindling lust, awe, and apprehension, her fingers tracing the contours of the arcane markings with hesitant curiosity.

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