#leander fluff

[trappolia]

FEELING HUMAN, HOOKED ON YOUR BREATH ── leander + gn!reader, 430

leander is painfully aware of his reputation; knows that you've heard rumours of how the corner room you currently occupy in the wet wick was once exclusively for him and his one-night-stands, vere's little quips of him getting some action with a stranger or two in dark alleys, and he hasn't exactly been subtle with the way he looks at you in the candlelight when you're huddled together in one of the booths. he knows that you're no fool, that you're not deaf to the warnings to stay away from him lest you fall too deep into his spell of dark magic—

but you stay anyway.

perhaps it is because he is one of the few to offer you some semblance of comfort in the unfamiliar streets of eridia without asking for anything else, or because he is the only one capable of touching your bare hands and remain sane enough to see the exact shade of your pretty eyes, but whatever the reason, he finds himself unable to care. he finds himself doing a lot of uncharacteristic things since you've come around, actually.

leander does not believe in god, has never even entertained such thoughts of a divine entity existing with the sort of life he's led since birth, but he thinks that despite your curse, you are the closest thing to an angel he's ever met. leander feels bad about it, really; the thoughts that plague his mind when he lets you trace the grooves and scars of his calloused hands, your darkened fingertips ghosting upon the skin of his forearm like a dancer from the amaryllis district. he feels guilty, as if he's taking advantage of your trust like this, even if you're the one who's touching him, but it's outweighed by that something that leander still can't name even after all those nights of laying awake in night or nursing his nth bottle of rum in the wet wick at some ungodly hour of the night; something about how you touch him like he's the only solid thing in the world, the look in your eyes when you find your fingers wandering over to the scar on his face.

there is no such thing as heaven or hell, just the monsters (soulless and mortal) that linger in the space between, but your touch is divine, and for the first time in his life, leander wants nothing more than to repent for his sins, to whisper his confessions against the warm dark-gold of your knuckles as if he could find some semblance of forgiveness in your skin.

© trappolia 2024

[girl-named-matty]

Sharing a bed with the Boys (Hogwarts Legacy Headcanons)

Sharing a bed with the boys. Tags: Fluff, Sharing a bed, gn!reader, Sebastian x Reader, Ominis x Reader, Garreth x Reader, Leander x Reader. (this is barely proofread haha) Rating: General Audiences

Summary: My Headcanons for sharing a bed with the boys!

Sebastian:

When you first asked him if he wanted to share a bed, he practically jumped straight in it. He was so excited. 

But that was just the first time. 

He stays up reading almost every night so good luck getting him into that bed in the first place after that. 

And by late I mean genuinely unholy hours of the night kinda staying up and he wonders why he looks so tired. 

If you do eventually get him in bed, it doesn’t take him long to actually fall asleep. Aside from the constant lack of sleep he usually gets, he’s always been one to fall asleep quickly. 

He is a human body heater. 

Some nights you may not even need a blanket because he’s just that warm. 

I feel like Seb would be the kind of guy to practically sleep on top of you. Like not enough to crush you but instead it feels like a really nice weighted (and warm) blanket. 

Except for this blanket snores. 

Loud 

I’m sorry I don’t make the rules. 

Sometimes it's really annoying to share a bed with him and other times it's really nice. 

If he ever comes to bed early, it’s how you know he’s had a rough day and just needs to be in your arms for comfort. ..

Ominis:

Unlike Sebastian who would totally be up to sharing a bed, he would be more hesitant. 

It’s not like he doesn’t want to, per se, but he’s used to having his own space and he’s not necessarily the most touchy person. But eventually, he says he’s ready. 

Kinda awkward the first few nights. He slept with his back towards you and didn't make any physical touch at all. 

But after a couple of nights, he slowly starts making the shift to get closer to you and he comes to enjoy it. 

After that, he finds it hard to sleep without you. 

Due to not having the best childhood, he often has nightmares. And for him his nightmares are extremely unnerving due to the fact that he can’t see anything, only hear things. 

But one of the best parts about sharing a bed with you is the fact that whenever his nightmares wake him up, you’re right there next to him. 

He often finds himself reaching out for you in the middle of the night, just to make sure you’re still there. 

 He’s definitely a side sleeper so sometimes you’ll sleep in the spooning position together. This also reassures him a lot that you’re still next to him. ..

Garreth: 

Didn’t take long for you two to start sharing a bed at all. 

Since he has so many siblings he probably had to share a bed with one of his brothers at some point in his childhood anyway. 

But just because he might be used to it does not mean he’s easy to share a bed with. 

This boy is a BED HOGGER. 

If you are quite literally not right up against him, you’re falling off the bed. 

You thought Seb gets hot when he sleeps? 

Well, Garreth has him beat by a LONG shot. 

You could probably fry an egg on this man's back just saying. 

But we all know Garreth has that soft tummy action going on so he’s super comfortable and when he’s not hogging the bed, it’s really nice to cuddle up to him. 

When you too are cuddling, he wants to be as close to you as possible. 

So, really, just the sweetest boy to ever exist. ..

Leander: (because he deserves his place on this list) 

He’s similar to Ominis and opposite of Garreth. 

Had very few siblings growing up, probably only one or two so he was used to having his own space. So it took him a while before he was all good with it. 

This boy is lanky af. 

It’s obviously okay. He’s tall, long, lanky, whatever you wanna call it. 

So he probably sleeps with his legs up somehow to keep his feet from hanging off the bed/smacking into the headboard. 

It probably took him a while to get used to cuddling with someone in bed but now that he’s used to it, he loves it. 

He loves it when you sleep on his chest so he can wrap his arms around you and hold you close. 

He’s definitely not a morning person so have fun getting him out of that bed.

Also has really bad bed-head. How do I know this? No man would style his hair the way he does unless he has bed-head so take my word for it. 

100% a cuddler now. ...

Who should I do next? I was thinking Andrew and Amit but lmk in the comments!

[5sospenguinqueen]

Professor Fig: I said you could invite one friend.

MC: Sir, they don't come separately.

Sebastian: Yeah, we're pack animals.

(Ominis, Poppy, Imelda, Natty, Garreth and Leander nod)

[reluctantvnnerd]

All the better to hear you with my dear

“Ais! Ais, you have to help me,” you say, wobbling up to Ais at the Wet Wick. You’ve had just a smidge too much gin, but you’re only tipsy, not drunk. Or at least that’s what you’re telling yourself.

Ais smirks down at you, and it’s amazing how many smirks the demon has. This one says “you’re kind of like a puppy who pisses on the carpet, but you’re cute and this could be hilarious.” Ais’ face is very eloquent.

“Can’t wait to hear what’s been trying to eat you this time,” he says, laughter in his voice.

“Nothing!” you exclaim indignantly. Then you have to pause, trying to remember if anything or anyone has attempted to eat you today. Probably nothing or Mhin would be around somewhere glaring at you. “Yeah, nothing!”

Ais shakes his head. “Alright Sparrow, get to the point.”

You nod, and intend to take a seat on the stool next to Ais, but the stool wobbles and you decide you don’t want to sit down anyway.

“You have to keep me away from Vere,” you tell him solemnly.

Ais’ smirk grows. “Keep you away from Vere? Not the other way around?”

“No, it has to be me away from him. Because I want to do something, and he’ll kill me if I do.”

“Gotta hear this one,” he tells you with a laugh. Ais pulls a cigarette from inside his… shirt? Is it a shirt? Why does a shirt need so many belts? Between these five assholes there’s probably not a belt left in Eridia. Half the city probably can’t keep their pants on. Wait…

“Sparrow?” You feel Ais’ hands on your arms, and the contact makes you jump. You realize you’re kind of listing to starboard, and he’s holding you up. Aww, nice demon!

“Can you keep a secret?” you ask, trying to be quiet, but also be heard over the cacophony of the Wet Wick.

“Sure I can,” he says, shifting you back upright. Somehow he’s managed to get his cigarette in his mouth and lit while you were thinking about belts. “Maybe I even will.”

You shoo away that last part with a bandaged hand, and then narrow your eyes and lean in a little. Well a lot actually. It isn’t intentional, but your head feels really heavy and it kind of leads the way. Ais catches you again, snickering.

“I want,” you start to say. You think better of it and lower your voice so someone can’t hear you. “Ais, I want to touch his ears.”

This time instead of smirking, Ais gives you a grin of unholy glee, fangs flashing. Why do monsters get cool teeth and fluffy ears and all you have are shitty mummy hands?

“Yeah?” he asks, chuckling. “I can understand that.”

“They look so soft!” you exclaim. “So fluffy! Why are they so fluffy? I want to pet them and smoosh them down and nuzzle them with my face so I know what they feel like.”

You look down at your bandaged hands and make a face.

“Stupid hands,” you grumble, your volume diminishing with unhappiness.

“Aw, don’t be sad Sparrow,” Ais says, patting you affectionately on the head like you’re one of his pets. You consider the fact that if you drink from the spring you kind of would be like Ais’ pet. You could hang out with Princess… Alright no, you are way too drunk to be thinking about groupminds.

“So you have to help me. I don’t want him to kill me. Or eat my face.” You pause to consider something. “Actually, I’d probably let him bite my hand off, that would be ok.”

Ais snorts.

“Yeah, I think we’ll just keep you from being Vere-chow,” narrowing his bright red eyes, he looks down at you and purses his lips. “Wanna know a secret?”

Your eyes widen with excitement and you clutch the front of his… outfit. “Yes!”

Ais leans down until his mouth is next to your ear. His breath tickles and you choke back a drunken giggle.

“If you scratch behind his ears he purrs.”

Your eyes go wide, and you stare at him when he stands back up to his full height. “Ais! Why did you tell me that! That doesn’t help!”

Ais laughs loudly. “Never said I was gonna, did I?”

“Asshole!” you gasp angrily.

Still laughing, he pulls your hands away from his clothes, careful of your bandages. You’re still scowling when Leander wanders over to look at the two of you inquiringly.

“Ais is being a dick,” you complain, feeling vaguely betrayed, but also unsurprised, and kind of amused.

“Isn’t he always?” Leander asks with a laugh. Well, you suppose he has a point.

Ais just shrugs, not bothering to deny it. Instead he pushes you gently toward Leander, who suddenly realizes how unstable you are and catches you with a surprised noise.

“Whoa there,” Leander says, putting his hands on your shoulders when you sort of face plant between his boobs. “Why don’t we get you some water?”

“Ok, but don’t make it chewy,” you mutter against his chest. “I don’t like chewy drinks.”

“You ever had one?” Ais asks, laugher in his voice.

“Can’t remember,” you say, with another dismissive wave of your hand. Then you lift your head from Leander’s pillowy bosom to scowl at Ais and shake your finger menacingly at him. “Remember, no ears!”

“Definitely time for that water,” Leander says, sounding both confused and a little concerned. “Then maybe you should call it a night.”

“Too late,” Ais says, taking a drag on his forgotten cigarette. He slaps Leander on the back harder than he needs to, but not too hard since you’ve managed to pass out while leaning against the leader of the Bloodhounds. “I’ll leave you to it. Gotta talk to Vere.”

Leander looks at Ais dubiously, but rather than arguing, he picks you up and starts making his way through the crowd toward the stairs.

“So fluffy,” you murmur against his chest.

Leander really isn’t sure what to make of that, so he ignores it in favor of climbing the stairs. He can always ask you in the morning… assuming you remember.

+++++

The next day you wake with a headache so terrible that the curse of madness pales in comparison. Your mouth tastes the way you imagine soulless shit might taste, and you smell just as bad. It’s got to be nearly 3 pm, and you’re starting to think living in a tavern might have been your greatest mistake so far, and you’ve made a lot of mistakes.

Once you’re bathed and dressed you head downstairs to be accosted by a painfully cheerful Leander. Despite your angry hissing at his cheer, he takes advantage of your headache to convince you to test some vile concoction he's created. He swears it cures hangovers, but honestly you just want it to cure his cheerfulness.

At first you’re certain that it cures hangovers by killing the drinker by flavor alone. But to your surprise the headache and nausea begin to recede after only a few minutes. You still don’t forgive him for being cheerful in your general direction though.

It takes work to convince yourself to go outside, but after the nausea subsides, hunger rears its head and demands you go find food. Since your single taste of nut leather was enough to convince you never to repeat the experience, you decide to go looking for something that might at least resemble food.

You make your way cautiously through the maze-like streets of the Amaryllis district toward Lowtown and the vendor with the long lads. You've just caught sight of him and are raising your hand to wave when someone grabs you by the back of the neck and hauls you bodily into a dark alley, half choking you in the process. Your assailant pushes you back against the wall with a force that rattles your teeth. Your surprised scream turns into a startled squeak when you realize your assailant is Vere.

“Vere, wha-”

“Shut up.”

You shut up, swallowing down your returning nausea. This is becoming a very unnerving habit of Vere's. He's got his hands wrapped around your biceps and his body is very, very close. Close enough it's getting hard to think. He's giving you a half lidded look that you can't read but also can't look away from. His pupils are normal at least, which probably increases your chance of survival.

When you see his face coming toward you, you have no idea what's going on. You brace yourself for violence, or perhaps another deeply useless piece of “free” information. Possibly even a kiss, though that might be wishful thinking.

You close your eyes lest you show any of your weird emotional turmoil in them. Instead of any of those options you feel the brush of something warm, silky soft and… furry? against your cheek. You can’t quite figure out what you’re experiencing so you dare to open your eyes. You find yourself presented with a fall of deep red hair as Vere rubs one of his tufted ears against your cheek.

“Oh gods,” you whimper. The touch is so soft, easily the softest thing you’ve ever felt. The skin of his ear is much warmer than yours, adding an extra note of sensory input to this already overwhelming experience. His silky hair brushes your lips and that’s almost more distracting than the ears.

But Vere isn’t done. He grabs your bandaged hand and guides it to his other ear, and even though you can’t feel the texture of his fur and skin, you can feel the warmth and how delicate and pliable his ear is. You finally get the courage to “smoosh” one of Vere’s ears, cupping it gently and pressing it forward into his hair, enjoying how pliable it is. You think for the barest fraction of a second that you hear purring, but you can't be sure.

When he pulls back a moment later his pupils are very wide and he gives you a poisonously sweet smile.

“If you tell anyone this happened, I will rip your throat out and use your windpipe as a whistle.“

“Not a soul,” you promise, nodding vigorously. “Though truthfully I don’t think anyone would believe me. I’m not sure I believe me.”

Vere lets out a laugh that for once isn’t tinged with menace.

“Goodbye little bird,” he says warmly.

Then his face is right next to yours again, hair brushing your flushed and sweaty cheek. The next thing you know, sharp teeth are digging into your neck and biting down hard. It’s definitely not the bite of a lover, far from it. It’s shockingly painful, though thankfully over quickly. You give a whine of shock and pain as you bleed sluggishly into your cloak.

“Remember what I told you, Sparrow.” Vere warns, licking his lips as he saunters away, tail swaying lazily behind him.

When you can manage to think again you make a mental note to thank Ais and also to kick him in the shin at the earliest opportunity.

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Playing for Keeps | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Chapter 1

Next Chapter →

Starting your seventh year at Hogwarts should be exciting, but transferring from Beauxbatons turns out to be more challenging than you anticipated—especially with Sebastian Sallow, the sharp-tongued school heartthrob, going out of his way to make things difficult. But unlike most, you refuse to back down. When he crosses a line, you push back just as hard, earning his respect and capturing his attention in ways he struggles to admit.

But when a bet with Sebastian’s rival, Leander Prewett, comes to light, Sebastian must choose between protecting his pride or fighting to rebuild trust with the one person who’s ever truly challenged him.

Words: ~6,800

Tags: Modern AU, Reader Insert, Seventh Year, Female MC, No Y/N, Slytherin MC, Enemies to Lovers, Trope-y, Slow Burn, Humor, Fluff, Angst, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Coming of Age, Plus-Sized Protagonist, Body Image, High School Drama

The rhythmic clatter of the train against the tracks filled the small compartment as you gazed out the window, watching the rolling Scottish hills blur past. You couldn’t help but feel like you were drifting through a dream—one both familiar and completely foreign. The Hogwarts Express, with its polished wood interiors and the faint scent of sweets from the trolley somewhere down the corridor, was a stark contrast to the sleek, airy carriages of the Beauxbatons carriages you’d grown used to.

“Still daydreaming, Chouette?” Imelda Reyes smirked, kicking your shin lightly under the small table between you.

You snapped out of your thoughts, turning your attention back to her. “Not daydreaming,” you said, though the heat rising to your cheeks probably said otherwise. “Just thinking.”

“About how different you look in those robes, maybe?” she teased, gesturing to your Hogwarts attire. Unlike hers, crisp and proudly adorned with green and silver, yours lacked a house tie and emblem, leaving you looking oddly plain. “Don’t worry; they’ll sort you soon enough. Though if you don’t end up in Slytherin with me, I might disown you.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. Imelda hadn’t changed. Her sharp tongue was as much her armor as it was her way of showing affection. “They didn’t have houses at Beauxbatons,” you reminded her, smoothing the fabric of your robe self-consciously. “Sorting is new.”

Imelda shrugged. “He's just a nosy hat. You’ll be fine. Though I’ll admit, it’s going to be strange not knowing where you’ll sit in the Great Hall until after the feast. No matter what happens, at least we've got this first night together!”

You hummed in response, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve. The idea of being paraded in front of an entire school while a magical hat decided your fate wasn’t exactly comforting. Then again, neither was uprooting your life for the second time in less than a decade.

Not that the move back to Scotland had been a choice.

Your grandmother’s health had been declining for months, and with your grandfather gone, your mother had insisted on returning home to care for her. It wasn’t that you didn’t understand—family came first, always—but it didn’t make the transition any easier.

You had grown up in Scotland but moved to France at ten years old to attend Beauxbatons. Back then, the language, the culture, the people—they had all been a steep adjustment, but in truth, they had molded you into who you were. Beauxbatons had become home, the place where you found your footing. Now, at eighteen, just as you were preparing to finish your final year, you were being uprooted again, starting over in a country that was both familiar and foreign.

Imelda studied you for a moment, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly as she leaned back in her seat. “You're so quiet, this isn’t like you,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact. “Normally, you’re the type to run headfirst into things… what gives?”

You hesitated, glancing down at your hands. “I don’t know,” you mumbled, though that wasn’t entirely true. “It’s just… a lot. New school, new people, everything being different. What if I don’t fit in?”

Imelda snorted, rolling her eyes as if the thought were utterly absurd. “Oh, please. You’ll be fine. Half the idiots at Hogwarts will be tripping over themselves to talk to you once they hear that half-French, half-Scottish accent of yours. And the other half will be too busy being jealous.”

You tried to laugh, but the sound came out more nervous than anything. “I’m not sure that’s how it works.”

“It is,” she insisted, her grin turning smug. “And besides, you’ve got me.”

You gave her a faint smile. “Thanks, Mel.”

She waved a hand, brushing off the sentiment with a casual flick of her wrist. “Don’t get sappy on me now, Chouette. You’re going to be fine.”

But as her words settled in the air between you, your thoughts drifted. Imelda’s confidence in you was comforting, sure—but it also felt so far from the truth you were carrying inside. Because while she saw someone bold and daring, right now you felt the opposite.

The rhythmic clatter of the train wheels began to slow, and you felt a slight jolt as the Hogwarts Express started its final approach to the station. Outside the window, the landscape shifted, the rolling hills giving way to a darkened platform illuminated by soft, golden lanterns. Students began gathering their things, voices rising in excitement as they peered out into the cool evening air.

Imelda leaned over, her sharp eyes scanning the platform with a familiar confidence. “Here we go,” she said, nudging you with her elbow.

The train hissed to a stop, steam billowing into the night as the chatter inside the compartments swelled. You clutched the strap of your bag tightly, your pulse quickening as Imelda stood, gesturing for you to follow her. The aisle was a chaos of students jostling to disembark, and you found yourself swept up in the tide as Imelda led the way with ease.

When you stepped off the train, the chill of the Scottish air hit you instantly, sharp and bracing against your skin. The platform was alive with movement, students reuniting with friends after the summer, calling out to one another over the clamor of luggage being hauled off the train. Lanterns cast a warm glow over the cobblestones, and in the distance, you could see the faint silhouettes of carriages waiting to carry students up to the castle.

“First years, over here! First years, this way!” a booming voice called, and your head turned to see a figure waving a lantern high above the crowd. A group of wide-eyed first years shuffled nervously in his direction, their excitement palpable.

“Come on,” Imelda said, grabbing your arm to pull you along. “Our carriages are this way. Stick close, or you’ll end up in the lake with the first years.”

You followed Imelda closely, gripping the strap of your bag as your eyes darted around, taking everything in. The sound of hooves echoed faintly in the distance, and when you glanced up the path, you caught sight of the carriages waiting to bring students to the castle. They were drawn by strange, skeletal creatures with leathery wings—Thestrals, you realized with a start.

“Are those—?” you began, but before you could finish, a shout interrupted you.

“Imelda!”

Two boys waved from further up the platform, their voices cutting through the bustle around you. Your eyes were drawn to them immediately. The first was a red-haired boy with an easy, infectious grin that seemed to light up his face. Beside him stood a taller, blonde-haired boy, his striking features framed by an air of quiet composure. Their robes gave away their houses—red and gold for the cheerful one, green and silver for the reserved one. Gryffindor and Slytherin, you realized.

“Of course,” Imelda chuckled good-naturedly before raising her hand in a wave. “Come on,” she said to you.

You trailed behind her as she strode confidently toward the pair, your gaze flicking between them. The redheaded boy beamed as you approached.

“Reyes! Great to see you!” he called out, his grin wide and his green eyes alight with curiosity as they landed on you. “And who’s this?” He extended a freckled hand toward you, his energy practically buzzing with warmth. “Garreth Weasley, at your service.”

You hesitated for half a second before taking his hand. “Erm, hi,” you said, your voice a little unsure as you introduced yourself.

Imelda crossed her arms and smirked. “This is Hogwarts newest Seventh Year. You can call her Chouette,” she announced with a pointed look in your direction.

You felt your face heat instantly. “Imelda!”

Garreth perked up at this, a delighted grin spreading across his face. “Chouette? That’s French, isn’t it?”

“For ‘owl,’ yes,” you confirmed, your tone edged with mild bitterness.

Garreth chuckled, clearly amused, but it was the taller boy, the one with pale blonde hair and an unreadable expression, who spoke next. “Well,” he said smoothly, his voice low and measured. “I'm Ominis Gaunt. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Chouette.”

The way he pronounced it was flawless, as though he’d been saying it his entire life. You blinked, caught off guard by the effortless precision. “Thank you, you too,” you said cautiously, unsure of what else to add as a flicker of recognition lit in your mind.

Gaunt. The name wasn’t just uncommon—it carried a certain weight, steeped in the histories of old wizarding families, and the implications lingered, leaving you hesitant as you glanced at him again.

Before you could dwell on it, Imelda’s voice cut through your thoughts. “Don’t look so worried,” she said breezily, elbowing you in the side. “Ominis isn’t nearly as scary as his last name makes him sound.”

Ominis’s lips twitched faintly, though whether it was amusement or irritation, you couldn’t tell. “Thank you, Reyes,” he said dryly, “for the glowing endorsement.”

Imelda smirked. “Anytime.”

Garreth grinned. “Ominis is harmless. He just looks intimidating because he refuses to smile properly.”

Ominis shot him a pointed look, but Garreth only laughed. The banter between them was easy, and you found yourself relaxing slightly, even as your nerves lingered.

“Come on,” Imelda said, jerking her head toward the carriages. “If we stand here any longer, all the good ones will be taken. We’ll get stuck riding with a pack of loudmouth second-years.”

You followed Imelda down the path, the sound of students bustling and calling out to one another echoing across the platform. The Thestrals loomed closer, their frames almost ethereal in the glow of the lanterns. You hesitated briefly before climbing into the carriage after her, settling onto the bench beside her while Garreth and Ominis took the opposite seats. The wood creaked faintly under the weight, and with a slight jolt, the Thestrals began to move.

As the carriage rolled forward, Imelda leaned casually out of the carriage, her hand raised in a sharp wave toward someone in the distance. “Samantha!” she called out, her voice carrying easily. “Don’t forget—we’re sitting together for Herbology this year!”

Further along the path, Garreth grinned and shouted something indecipherable to a cluster of students by another carriage. One of them—a freckled Gryffindor girl with tawny-brown hair—giggled and waved back. “That’s Cressida,” Garreth explained with a cheeky glance your way. “My girlfriend, and a Charm’s genius. I’d be lost without her.”

Ominis, though quieter, acknowledged almost every passing group with a polite nod or a brief exchange. At one point, you caught him waving to a dark-haired boy holding a stack of books balanced precariously in his arms. “Amit Thakkar,” Imelda muttered under her breath, catching your questioning look. “Smartest guy in school.”

You sat back, watching the interactions unfold, the warmth and familiarity in every exchange. Imelda, Garreth, and Ominis were like threads in a tightly woven tapestry, seamlessly connected to everyone around them. The ease with which they navigated the chaos made you painfully aware of just how out of place you felt.

At Beauxbatons, you’d had your own circle of friends—people who knew your quirks and shared your jokes, who had seen you at your best and your worst. Now, all of that felt so far away, like another life entirely. You wrapped your fingers around the strap of your bag, gripping it tightly as the ache of longing settled in your chest.

“Chouette?” Imelda’s voice broke through your thoughts, her sharp eyes studying you. “You good?”

You blinked, forcing a small smile. “Yeah, just… taking it all in.”

She raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, but didn’t press further. Instead, she leaned back and crossed her arms, smirking as she turned to Garreth. “Bet all you Gryffindors are going to pout when she's sorted into Slytherin with Ominis and I."

Garreth snorted, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Please. You really think the hat’s going to let you have her? Gryffindor’s clearly where she belongs.”

“Clearly?” Ominis interjected, one pale brow arching delicately. “The hat doesn’t favor reckless overconfidence, Weasley.”

Garreth grinned. “Speaking of reckles overconfidence, I'm sure Sallow is already up to no good and classes haven't even started."

“I don’t know what’s more concerning,” Ominis muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose, “that you think he’s already causing trouble, or that you sound impressed.”

Garreth shrugged. “If you don’t admire a little chaos, Ominis, what’s the point?”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at their bickering, though the unfamiliar name snagged in your mind. “Sallow?” you asked, your curiosity piqued.

“Sebastian Sallow,” Imelda said with a roll of her eyes. “Slytherin's star Beater, eternal troublemaker, and Hogwarts’ most persistent heartbreak. Next to Leander Prewett, that is.”

“Persistent is putting it kindly,” Ominis muttered. “He’s my oldest friend, but even I’d describe him as… relentless. If there’s trouble to be found, he’ll find it.”

“And probably make it worse,” Imelda added, smirking.

Garreth chimed in, grinning. “He’s also at the top of our Defense Against the Dark Arts class. As much as it pains me to admit it, he’s annoyingly talented.”

Imelda hummed thoughtfully. “Honestly, he’s a lot like you—except dialed up to eleven.”

You blinked, taken aback by the comment. “Like me?”

“Well, sure,” Imelda said with a shrug, her tone casual but knowing. “Sharp. Driven. Bold. Stubborn. Always ready to throw yourself into something headfirst.”

“Usually without thinking, in Sebastian's case," Ominis interjected dryly, though there was no malice in his tone.

You hesitated, their words sinking in. Confidence. Boldness. Those were the things people always said about you, the qualities they seemed to admire. But underneath it all, you weren’t sure how much of it was real and how much was just a well-practiced act.

Still, you managed a smile, brushing the thought aside. “So… troublemaker, charmer, and duelling prodigy. Got it. Should I be worried?”

“Yes,” they all said in unison.

You shook your head, suppressing a laugh, though the image of this mysterious Sebastian Sallow stuck with you. Still, your curiosity shifted back to the matter at hand. “What exactly does the Sorting Hat look for?” you asked, glancing between the three of them.

Ominis’s expression softened slightly, his thoughtful demeanor returning. “It depends. Qualities, values, ambitions… It’s not just about who you are now—it’s about who you have the potential to become.”

“And sometimes,” Imelda added with a shrug, “it just throws you somewhere unexpected to see if you’ll sink or swim.”

“Comforting,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Well, here’s hoping the hat knows what it’s doing,"

“It does,” Ominis said, his voice cutting through the chatter. His pale gaze was steady. “The Sorting Hat has been doing this for centuries. It doesn’t get it wrong.”

His words carried a finality that left little room for argument, and while they didn’t exactly ease your nerves, you found them oddly reassuring.

The carriage slowed to a stop, jolting slightly as the Thestrals came to rest. The castle loomed above you, its towers piercing the darkening sky and its warm, glowing windows casting light across the grounds. Students were already filing toward the massive oak doors in groups, their chatter filling the cool evening air.

Imelda hopped out of the carriage first, her steps confident as always, and you followed closely behind, clutching your bag.

Garreth offered you a cheerful grin as he stepped down after Ominis, his hair catching the glow of the lanterns. “Well, looks like this is where we part ways,” he said, his gaze shifting toward a small group of Gryffindors gathered nearby. One of the girls—Cressida, you realized—waved at him, and he waved back with easy enthusiasm before turning to you.

“Good luck settling in, Chouette,” Garreth said, his grin widening. “And remember—Gryffindor’s the obvious choice.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his cheerful energy. “Thanks, Garreth. I’ll see you around.”

“Count on it,” he replied with a wink, then jogged off toward his friends, sliding seamlessly into their group.

Your gaze lingered for a moment, watching the way the Gryffindors welcomed him. Their laughter was infectious, their camaraderie easy. Among them was a tall boy with dark red hair and an effortlessly confident demeanor. He stood slightly apart, twirling a wand idly between his fingers as he spoke. There was something about the way he carried himself—relaxed but assured—that made it hard to look away.

Imelda’s sharp snort broke your reverie. Looping her arm through yours, she tugged you along. “Don’t let Weasley fool you. Slytherin is the best option.”

You glanced back over your shoulder one last time, your eyes flickering to the boy just as he tossed his wand in the air and caught it effortlessly, grinning at something one of his friends said. There was something magnetic about him, something that made you wonder who he was. You hadn’t even realized you were staring until Imelda tugged on your arm again, chuckling softly.

“Oh, Merlin,” she said, clearly amused. “Already eyeing Prewett, are you?”

“What?” you asked, startled. “I wasn’t—”

Imelda rolled her eyes, her grin widening. “Sure you weren’t. That’s Leander Prewett. Top Summoner’s Court player in the school, a massive flirt, and annoyingly good at just about everything. And yes,” she added with a smirk, “he’s fully aware of how good-looking he is.”

You felt heat creep up your neck as you scrambled to defend yourself. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Right,” Imelda said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “You were just appreciating the scenery.”

Groaning, you nudged her with your elbow. “Can we just go?”

Ominis chuckled. “Come on, Imelda. I’m sure she’s already overwhelmed enough.

Imelda rolled her eyes but relented, leading you inside and toward the Great Hall. When the three of you reached the Slytherin table, Imelda gestured toward a spot next to her. The table gleamed under the flickering candlelight, its surface polished to a mirror shine. You sat down tentatively, Imelda on one side and two other girls—one with dark hair spilling down her back, the other with her somewhat lighter hair tied neatly into a ponytail—on the other.

“Ladies,” Imelda said smoothly, gesturing to you with a casual wave. “This is my oldest friend and Hogwarts newest transfer student."

The girl with the ponytail grinned warmly. “Nerida Roberts,” she said, offering a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“And I’m Grace Pinch-Smedley,” added the other girl, giving a polite nod. “Welcome to Hogwarts.”

“Thank you,” you said warmly, offering your name as you shook Nerida’s hand. Turning to Grace with a small smile, you added, “It’s nice to meet you both.”

Ominis slid gracefully into the seat across from Nerida and Grace, his movements precise and deliberate. He rested his hands lightly on the table, his pale gaze shifting in your direction. “So, Beauxbatons,” he began, his voice polite and curious. “What was it like? I’ve always imagined it to be… grand.”

You blinked at the sudden attention but managed a small smile. “It’s beautiful,” you said, trying to sum up a place that had been your home for so long. “Elegant, for sure. But strict, too. Everything had to be perfect—uniforms, posture, manners.”

Nerida snorted softly, her elbow propped on the table. “Sounds dreadful. How’d you survive?”

You chuckled. “I ask myself that sometimes. It was a lot, but... well, it was home. And all my friends were there. Not to mention the grounds were stunning, and the food was incredible.”

Ominis nodded thoughtfully. “I imagine the transition to Hogwarts must be… a bit jarring.”

You hesitated, glancing at Imelda, who gave you a subtle nudge under the table. “It’s definitely different,” you admitted. “Less polished, but in a good way. It feels more alive.”

“Alive is one way to put it,” Nerida quipped with a grin. “Chaotic might be more accurate. Just wait until Peeves finds you.”

“Peeves?” you asked, furrowing your brow.

“The Poltergeist,” Grace supplied with a sigh. “You’ll hear him before you see him, unfortunately.”

Before you could ask for details, a voice interrupted the conversation—a smooth, confident drawl that cut through the noise like a sharp blade.

“Well, well, what do we have we here?”

You looked up and froze. The boy standing at the head of the table was, for lack of a better word, stunning. Dark brown hair framed his angular face, his warm brown eyes sharp and filled with mischief, and his smile—crooked and self-assured—had an edge of arrogance that was almost magnetic.

And then there was the way he was dressed—or, rather, the way he wasn’t. While everyone else around you was neatly clad in Hogwarts uniforms, this boy had abandoned the standard entirely. His black cloak was draped lazily over his arm, and he wore a faded black shirt with a band logo you recognized, the sleeves rolled just enough to show off his forearms.

Your stomach flipped before you could stop it. But then he opened his mouth again.

“New girl, huh?” His gaze flicked over you, assessing. “Guess Hogwarts is letting in anyone these days.”

The warmth that had been bubbling in your chest turned icy in an instant.

“Don't be an ass," Ominis said, his tone sharp enough to cut glass.

Imelda’s eyes narrowed as she leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms. "Surely you don’t want to embarrass yourself before she even knows who you are.”

The boy shrugged, flashing you a grin that might have been charming if you weren’t already bristling. “Apologies,” he said, though his tone was anything but sincere. “Sebastian Sallow. And you are?”

You stared at him, your mind connecting the dots almost instantly. So this is the infamous Sebastian Sallow. Recognition flickered, followed quickly by irritation.

“Chouette,” Imelda said smoothly, gesturing toward you. “Hogwarts’ newest transfer student. My oldest friend. And if you keep running your mouth, you’ll be eating pudding from the hospital wing by the end of the night.”

Grace stifled a laugh, while Nerida smirked openly. Ominis simply sighed, his expression a mix of exasperation and mild amusement.

Sebastian raised his hands in mock surrender, though his grin didn’t waver. “No need for violence, Imelda." He chuckled and slid into the seat beside Ominis as his sharp brown eyes flicked to your colorless robes, the lack of a house tie or emblem drawing his attention.

“Hmm,” he drawled, leaning slightly against the table as though appraising a particularly curious find. “I don’t think you’ll be sitting at this table for long.”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Oh?”

“Judging by the… interesting nickname and the accent,” he continued, his tone dripping with amusement. “let me guess, you’re from Beauxbatons? And their students are what—Hufflepuff material? Maybe Ravenclaw?”

“Sebastian,” Ominis warned, his voice low and sharp.

“I'm just saying,” he said, holding up his hands in mock innocence. “I wouldn’t hold my breath. Slytherin’s not for everyone, especially someone who’s used to…” He paused as he gestured vaguely again, “…a more delicate lifestyle.”

You scoffed. “And here I thought Slytherins were supposed to be cunning,” you replied evenly, tilting your head slightly as you found your voice. “But I guess all that ambition doesn’t leave much room for creativity. It’s almost impressive, really—managing to be both predictable and wrong in a single sentence.”

Sebastian’s grin faltered for a split second before snapping back into place, though the glint in his eyes turned sharp, like he’d just found a new game to play. “I'm just saying, adjusting to a new school at the last minute must be overwhelming,” he said smoothly, his tone dripping with condescension. “Let’s see if the Sorting Hat can find somewhere for you to fit.”

Imelda groaned audibly, throwing her head back. “Shut up, Sebastian.”

He chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “What? Don’t you think it’s my duty to give her a proper Hogwarts welcome?”

“Your definition of ‘proper’ is questionable,” Grace muttered, not bothering to hide her annoyance.

“Is it?” Sebastian replied, his grin unwavering. “I think I’ve made quite the impression.”

“Yeah,” you said evenly. “Just not the one you think.”

He shrugged. “Well, it’s better to stand out than to blend in, don’t you think?”

“Oh, you stand out, alright,” you replied, your tone sharp.

Sebastian’s eyes swept over you again, sharp and calculating, before his expression turned mock-thoughtful once more.

"Well, I'm certainly not the only one," he said smoothly, his tone laced with something you couldn’t quite place but knew you didn’t like. “I mean, you’re kinda hard to miss. But, uh…” He tilted his head slightly, the smirk creeping back onto his lips. “Just a bit of advice, since I’m feeling generous,” he drawled. “The food here is great—buffet-style, really—but, you know… moderation. It’s worth considering.”

The words hit like a slap, sharp and deliberate, leaving the table in stunned silence and feeding into an insecurity you’d carried for as long as you could remember. You’d always been bigger—bigger than the other girls at Beauxbatons, bigger than most people thought you “should” be. It was something people seemed to notice before they noticed you. Your size came first, and everything else about you—your thoughts, your talents, your personality—became secondary, if they even mattered at all.

You’d worked hard not to let it define you, not to let the looks and whispers get under your skin. But in moments like this, when someone threw it in your face with a smug grin, it was impossible not to feel the sting. For a brief moment, the familiar ache threatened to creep in, whispering that you’d never belong here, or anywhere. That you’d always be the odd one out. That you’d never be good enough.

But you weren’t about to let him see that.

Before you could respond, though, Imelda was already snapping. “What the fuck? Do you ever stop to think before you open your mouth?"

“That was completely uncalled for,” Ominis cut in sharply, his voice cracking like a whip.

Nerida let out a derisive snort. “You’ve said some idiotic things before, but this is a new low,” she said, staring at him as though he’d sprouted a third head.

Sebastian glanced around, clearly taken aback by the backlash, though he quickly masked it with an exaggerated shrug. “What? I was just joking,” he said. “Don’t get your wands in a knot.”

“Truly, what an innovative personality you’ve cultivated. So original,” you said suddenly, your voice cutting through the tension at the table. The group turned to you, startled by the calm sharpness in your tone. “I know your kind. It’s always the same with guys like you."

That seemed to catch him off guard. His smirk faltered, confusion flashing in his eyes. “My kind?” he repeated.

You tilted your head, keeping your expression steady despite the thunderous rhythm of your heart. You told yourself you shouldn’t stoop to his level, shouldn’t let him get under your skin, but the words tumbled out before you could stop them, sharp and precise.

“Yeah. The student athlete heartthrob who thinks being a prick is endearing. The guy who throws around shitty comments thinking it makes him clever or edgy. If it wasn’t already abundantly obvious, let me make it clear: it doesn’t. It just makes you predictable and pathetic.”

Sebastian blinked, clearly trying to process your words. His smirk slipped further, replaced by something closer to genuine surprise. For a moment, it seemed as though he was searching for a retort, but nothing came.

Grace stifled a giggle behind her hand, while Nerida openly grinned, her eyes darting between you and Sebastian like she was watching an impromptu Quidditch match. Even Ominis let a faint smirk tug at his lips.

You leaned back in your seat, arms crossed in mock lamentation, your gaze pinned firmly on Sebastian. “What’s this? Quiet, all of a sudden?” you said, your voice saccharine and laced with venom. “Oh, don’t stop now, Sebastian. Please, enlighten me with more of your cutting wit. I’m positively desperate to hear what else you think qualifies as clever banter.”

For a fleeting second, Sebastian hesitated. Then he shook his head, his grin creeping back, though it was smaller now, almost reluctant. “You’ve got a sharp tongue, I’ll give you that.”

“And you’ve got a wardrobe full of pretense and exactly zero originality,” you shot back without missing a beat, your eyes flicking deliberately to his faded band shirt.

You were well aware of the hypocrisy in your words even as you spoke them. Merlin knew you had a drawer full of band shirts yourself, a rotating collection of your favorite oversized tees that served as both a badge of honor and a comfortable fallback. You weren’t the gatekeeping type—far from it. But Sebastian Sallow wasn’t the first guy like this you’d encountered, and experience had taught you exactly where to aim to knock someone like him down a peg.

Sebastian blinked, momentarily thrown. “Excuse me?”

You tilted your head, feigning contemplation, your voice calm but laced with razor-edged sarcasm. “Let me guess—you picked up that Smiths shirt at a thrift shop because you thought it would make you look deep and brooding and intellectual. What’s next? Are you going to quote How Soon Is Now? at me and call it a personality? Because I’ve met that guy before, and trust me—you’re not breaking new ground.”

The stunned silence that followed was palpable. Sebastian stared at you, his smirk wiped clean from his face, replaced by a blank expression that was almost unnerving in its stillness. For a fleeting moment, you couldn’t tell if he was about to laugh, get angry, or fire back with something equally cutting. But he didn’t say a word.

The others, however, were less restrained. Imelda cackled, slapping the table with her palm as she leaned back in her seat. “Told you to shut up while you were still ahead, Sallow. Chouette's not a push-over."

Grace covered her mouth with her hand, her shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter, while Nerida didn’t even bother hiding her amusement. “Honestly, it’s about time someone put him in his place,” Nerida said, grinning as she glanced between you and Sebastian.

Sebastian blinked, whatever fire he’d had earlier extinguished. His sharp brown eyes lingered on you, something unreadable flickering behind them—a spark of surprise? Annoyance?—but whatever it was vanished as quickly as it had appeared. He forced a shrug, the motion stiff and hollow, and leaned back in his seat with an air of practiced nonchalance that didn’t quite land. His bruised ego hung in the air like smoke.

Not that it mattered.

Before anything more could be said, the noise in the Great Hall suddenly hushed. You glanced toward the front of the room to see Headmaster Black standing by the Sorting Hat, his expression a mix of irritation and boredom. He raised his hands, gesturing for quiet, though his sour demeanor seemed to imply he didn’t expect much from the room.

“Let’s get on with it, shall we?” he drawled, his voice carrying across the hall. “The Sorting Ceremony will now begin.”

Your stomach twisted as Professor Weasley stepped forward with the list of names, her warm smile doing little to calm your nerves. She called the first name, and your heart sank when it was yours.

Imelda gave you an encouraging nudge. “Go on,” she said with a grin.

You swallowed hard and stood, your legs carrying you toward the front of the hall almost on autopilot. The weight of hundreds of eyes on you was suffocating, and you felt your face flush as you approached the Sorting Hat. You could hear faint whispers ripple through the crowd as students speculated about the new girl, but you forced yourself to ignore them.

The hat was placed on your head, and the world around you seemed to disappear as its voice filled your mind.

“Ah, a Seventh Year, eh? Interesting. Very interesting indeed. Let’s see what we have here...”

You swallowed hard. Is it always this dramatic? you thought, the sarcasm slipping out before you could stop it.

The hat chuckled. “A sharp tongue, I see. And wit to match. You’re clever—no doubt about that. Ravenclaw would suit you well. But there’s more… bravery, certainly... A strong sense of justice. Gryffindor might fit…”

You held your breath, waiting as the hat’s musings trailed off.

“But no,” the hat said, its tone turning thoughtful. “There’s ambition here—strong ambition. And a determination too. Hmm… tricky, very tricky…”

You could feel the weight of the decision hanging in the air, the hat’s hesitation palpable. But then the hat made a self satisfied "Ah!" and before you knew it, the hat's voice was booming through the hall.

“Slytherin!”

You froze for a moment and the world came rushing back into focus. Applause erupted from the Slytherin table, led enthusiastically by Imelda, though you couldn’t quite shake the knot in your stomach as you made your way back toward them… because you’d be stuck with Sebastian Sallow all year.

“Well, welcome to the den of snakes,” Imelda cheered as you approached. “Don’t worry, you already fit right in.”

You glanced across the table and found Ominis watching you with a faint smile. “Congratulations and welcome,” he said softly. “The hat made the right choice.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, though the words felt hollow. Your gaze flickered to Sebastian, who lounged in his seat with an expression that could only be described as... confused. His eyes met yours briefly, and you simply cocked an eyebrow, letting the gesture speak for itself.

Imelda caught the exchange and snickered, leaning closer to you. “Merlin’s beard, you’ve got him rattled,” she said in a low voice, her tone somewhere between impressed and amused. “That’s new."

“Is he always like this?” you asked under your breath, your gaze flickering back to Sebastian for a moment before returning to Imelda.

“Unfortunately,” she said with an exaggerated sigh. "But don’t let him get to you. He’s a prat most of the time, but he grows on you. Like a stubborn rash.”

“High praise,” you muttered, "Je pense que je vais garder mes distances."

Imelda snorted at your muttered French, clearly understanding enough to catch your drift. “Good luck with that,” she said dryly, her smirk widening. “Sebastian has a way of worming into everyone’s business whether they want him there or not.”

“Sounds delightful,” you replied, your tone flat.

As the sorting continued, you allowed yourself a moment to appreciate the scene around you. Despite everything—the nerves, the awkwardness of being the new girl, and Sebastian’s infuriating attitude—Hogwarts certainly had a charm of its own. The way the candlelight flickered off the long tables, the enchanted ceiling reflecting the night sky above, and the palpable energy of students eager for the start of a new term—it all felt alive in a way Beauxbatons never had.

"Grace, look at that one," Nerida whispered excitedly, nudging Grace as another small first-year stumbled nervously toward the hat.

“Poor thing looks terrified,” Grace whispered back with a smile. “Reminds me of my own sorting.”

You smiled faintly at their banter, but a small, persistent voice in the back of your mind kept reminding you that you were still an outsider. Everyone around you had years of shared experiences, stories, and inside jokes that you couldn’t hope to understand or fit into overnight.

As the Sorting Ceremony neared its conclusion, the steady stream of nervous first-years dwindled until only one remained—a wide-eyed boy who looked moments away from fainting. The Sorting Hat barely touched his head before bellowing, "Hufflepuff!" A cheer erupted from the Hufflepuff table as the boy scurried to his seat.

Headmaster Black rose languidly from his chair at the staff table, his expression a blend of boredom and mild irritation, as if the entire evening had been an inconvenience. He waved a dismissive hand toward the hall, his voice carrying effortlessly over the chatter.

“Well, now that we’ve gotten that tiresome ordeal out of the way,” he drawled, his tone dripping with condescension, “you may enjoy your feast.”

The platters of food on the tables filled instantly with a mouth-watering array of dishes: roasted meats, golden potatoes, steaming vegetables, and fragrant pies. The smell alone was enough to make your stomach rumble.

Imelda grinned at you. “Now you’re getting the Hogwarts experience,” she said. “Trust me, the food here is one of the few things that’ll never let you down.”

You chuckled softly at Imelda’s remark, but her encouragement did little to silence the unwelcome echo of Sebastian’s earlier comment in your mind. “Moderation. It’s worth considering.” The words clung to you like a stubborn burr, sharp and biting.

Swallowing hard, you opted for a small portion: a single piece of roast chicken, a scoop of potatoes, and a few vegetables. The rich aromas wafted around you, but the knot in your stomach dulled your appetite.

Imelda didn’t seem to notice as she busied herself loading her own plate. Across the table, Nerida and Grace were deep in animated conversation about summer holidays, their voices blending into the lively chatter of the Great Hall. You focused on their words, nodding occasionally, but contributed little. It was easier to listen, to let their easy camaraderie wash over you while you quietly tried to find your footing.

Sebastian, at some point, returned to being the center of attention. He leaned casually on the table, his earlier smugness replaced with a more agreeable charm. He was laughing and gesturing animatedly as he recounted some story that had them all chuckling. The warmth in his tone was strikingly different from the sharp-edged comments he’d aimed at you earlier.

“Seems like he’s in a better mood now,” you muttered under your breath.

Imelda scoffed. “For now. Just wait until you see him on the Quidditch pitch.”

The mention of Quidditch piqued your interest, but before you could ask, Sebastian’s voice carried across the table, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Oi, Ominis,” he said, “What’s the over-under on me dragging you out to a practice this year? Still terrified of flying?”

Ominis, who had been quietly enjoying his meal, sighed deeply, setting down his fork with deliberate patience. “I’m not terrified,” he replied, his tone flat. “I simply prefer not to hurl myself into the sky on a broomstick, especially when there’s a perfectly good ground to stand on.”

Sebastian leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms with exaggerated amusement. “Oh, come on. A little adrenaline never hurt anyone.”

“Except for the countless people who’ve fallen off their brooms,” Ominis shot back dryly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Like you."

Laughter rippled across the table, and you couldn’t help the faint tug of a smile at their banter. Sebastian’s teasing tone was lighter now, his words less pointed and more playful. It was clear this version of him—the one laughing easily with his friends—was the one they all knew and tolerated, even enjoyed.

But for you, the memory of his earlier barbs was too fresh, his easy charm only serving to deepen your irritation. You’d seen this type before: the golden boy who could say whatever he wanted and still be adored by everyone around him. He was the center of the group’s attention now, weaving through conversations with an effortless charisma that left you feeling even more like an outsider.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Ominis remarked eventually, his soft voice cutting through your thoughts. His pale gaze was turned in your direction, steady and unassuming. “Are we overwhelming you already?”

You managed a small smile. “No, not at all. Just... taking it all in.”

Ominis inclined his head slightly, his expression thoughtful. “Understandable. But I’ve no doubt you’ll settle in quickly.”

“Thanks,” you said, your tone genuine. Of all the people you’d met so far, Ominis seemed the most sincere, his calm presence a stark contrast to the chaos of the evening.

Imelda, catching the tail end of your exchange, grinned as she elbowed you lightly. “See? I told you. You’ll fit right in.”

You nodded, though the weight of the evening still sat heavy on your shoulders. You glanced back across the table, catching a fleeting look from Sebastian before he quickly returned his attention to his friends. For a moment, you wondered if he was deliberately ignoring you or if he simply didn’t care.

Either way, you decided, it didn’t matter. You weren’t here to impress him.

Steeling yourself, you took a small bite of the potatoes and focused on the warmth of the Great Hall around you. It might not feel like home just yet, but it was a start.

Next Chapter →

[uhohwhathaveidone]

hiii im the one who requested a drabble about amortentia

yeah i meant that someone dosed reader with amortentia and that's why sebastian is pissed (fair enough)

and i don't mind it being 2nd part of Amortentia!! i just really hope the reader will be hufflepuff^^

thank you so much!!

Poor little Hufflepuff

Tainted Crush (S.S)

pt1 Brewed Crush

I sabered too close to the sun today on beat saber and played for 3 hours straight on hard difficulty and my limbs have gone to jelly, and then after all that I walked to my mom to tell her about how I found the new notes and suddenly there was glass in my shoe and i stabbed my foot, how I didn't do that while giving my all at the game is beyond me, I put my whole body and soul into those games. Anyway, Sebastian is very.... Sebastian in this. Very protective bf.

     You hummed quietly to yourself as you walked down the hall to the Hufflepuff common room, eager to put your bag down and meet with Sebastian and Ominis for supper. You greeted a few students as you walked in, petting the soft feathers of an owl that perched itself on the rail of the steps as you walked up them. Poppy greeted you at the top, smiling a devious smile. “Hey there, y/n! I have something to deliver to you.” You looked at her, confused, as she pulled out a small box. “I was asked to hand this to you.” You took it from her hands, peaking inside. “Candy? Who gave you this?” You asked, picking one out of the box and inspecting it. Poppy shrugged, “Leander told me to give it to you, saying it was a gift for beating him in some game you played.” Your face relaxed a bit, nodding as you thanked her. Poppy smiled and excused herself, walking down the stairs and to one of her friends.

     You walked to your room, placing your bag onto the floor beside your bed as you sat down, looking at the candy. You weren’t quite friends with the Gryffindor boy, but you did interact with him a bit, and you knew that it would be rude to not at least eat one of the candies. You sifted through the assortment, grabbing at random and popping it into your mouth. Its sweet taste flooded your tastebuds as you chewed, the aftertaste felt odd, however. You had tried to figure out what the aftertaste was when your mind seemed to haze, your body beginning to feel fuzzy. Leander’s face popped into your mind, and you felt yourself thinking about him, much as you tried to fight it. Eventually, he was all your mind thought about, and you smiled to yourself as you looked down at the box, the candies tempting you for another bite.

     Sebastian sat beside you and Ominis, talking about the new spell you had learned in charms, asking Ominis how he felt about it. Ominis shrugged, claiming it was rather easy to learn, while you kept silent, leaning into the palm of your hand as you looked across the hall. “Hey, are you even listening to me?” Sebastian asked, bumping into your shoulder. After the Potions session a week or two before hand, the two of you confessing to each other and then trying to interrogate Ominis, you and Sebastian had gotten together, much to Ominis’ delight. “Finally, I don’t have to hear you whine about your feelings,” He had said. Sebastian waited for you to answer, bumping your shoulder again. “Hmm, yeah I’m listening.” You hummed, not shifting your gaze. Sebastian narrowed his gaze at you, noticing how you had your gaze fixed. He followed it, landing at the Gryffindor table, a mix of blue and red dotting the table. “What’s on your mind, then?”

     “Leander.” You swooned; a childish giggle left you as you smiled. Ominis choked and spit his drink out, coughing and gasping for air. Sabastian’s face heated up in jealousy, causing him to frown. “Leander Prewett?” You nodded, watching as the boy in question talked to his friends. “Why are you thinking about that guy?” Sebastian scoffed. Leander wasn’t the biggest fan of Sebastian, and Sebastian had to admit that he wasn’t a fan of Leander either, growing annoyed by him. He always found something to blame on Slytherins, and seemed to hold a grudge against Sebastian after he bested him in a duel on the first day of fifth year. Sebastian hadn’t even seen you talk to Leander before. You sighed, pulling Sebastian from his thoughts. “He gave me candy. They were really good too.” You said, pulling one from your pocket. Ominis’ head snapped up, looking in your direction. “Candy?” He asked, and Sebastian quickly snatched the candy from your hand.

     “Don’t eat that!” He shouted, reaching into the pocket you had taken the candy from, finding two more pieces. Ominis furrowed his brow, “How many did he give you?” You shrugged, counting your fingers. “Hmm…maybe…Ten? I think that’s it.” Sebastian felt panic rise in his chest, eyes widening. “Ten? You have three left!” Ominis found your shoulder, looking for your face. “Smells sweet, too sweet for candy.” He noted, looking over to Sebastian, who sat there, shocked and upset. “You’re sure Leander gave you these?” He asked, watching as you nodded. He grabbed your shoulders, turning you to him. His eyes widened as he took in your features, your eyes glazed over and pupils dilated. Your usual skin tone was replaced by a deep pink, and your face was extremely relaxed. Sebastian cursed under his breath, grabbing your face, and checking for anything else that was out of the ordinary.

     Ominis listened to Sebastian as he muttered to himself, seemingly cursing Leander. “He dosed them, some kind of love potion was in those candies.” Ominis widened his eyes in shock, trying to wrap his head around the possibility that someone even had the guts to dose another student, especially you. “What do we do, Sebastian?” Sebastian sighed, turning you towards Ominis. “Keep them here, I’m going to have a little chat with our dear Prewett.” With that, Sebastian stood, making his way over to Leander’s table. Natty looked up, greeting Sebastian. Leander paled at his name, keeping his head down and focusing on his food. “Hello there, Natty. Mind if I borrow your friend Leander for a moment?” Natty shrugged, elbowing Leander, who looked up in dread. He hadn’t told his friends what he had done, so they watched in confusion as he slowly stood from his seat, hands shaking as he walked over to Sebastian. “Hello there, Prewett.” Sebastian began, “Would you care for a conversation in the hall outside?” Leander nodded slowly, head hung low as he followed Sebastian out.

     As the giant doors closed behind them, Sebastian grabbed Leander by the collar, throwing him into the stone wall. Leander let out a gasp as the air left his lungs, a bruise already beginning to form on his spine. Sebastian walked up to him, grabbing his collar once again and holding him up against the wall, glaring daggers into Leander. “So, Prewett. Know why I asked you here today?” Sebastian asked. Leander shook his head, hoping that he could try to reason with Sebastian; come up with a lie to cover up what he had done. Sebastian scoffed, dropping him to the ground again. “Let me jog your memory then, yeah?” He held up one of the candies he had taken from you, watching as Leander’s eyes widened as he watched. “How many were in that box, Prewett? Ten?” Leander nodded, avoiding Sebastian’s eyes now. Sebastian paced in front of him, “Well, I have three in my possession. I assume you know how to count. How many do you think they ate, hm?” Quietly, Leander responded. “Seven, they ate seven.” Clasping his hands together, Sebastian smiled. “Correct! Seven points to Gryffindor!” He mocked, walking up to Leander. “What do you think would have happened if they ate eight? Maybe nine, or all of them? Do you think they’d be sitting at the table right now, probably mumbling about you to Ominis?” His voice and gaze grew dark as he hovered over Leander, “You could have killed them, then I probably would have killed you.” Leander shuddered, pushing himself against the wall. Sebastian looked down at the candy, lifting his gaze to the Gryffindor before him. “What would happen if you ate one? Would it have an effect?” He questioned. Leander shrugged, unsure himself. Sebastian debated the idea, playing with the candy in his hand. “Maybe next time.” He said quietly.

     “I’m going to let you go now,” Sebastian started, watching as Leander sighed in relief. He took out his wand, pointing it between his eyes. “But, if I catch you trying something like that again to my partner, even look in their direction,” Sebastian stared, “I will deal with you.” With that, Sebastian put his wand away, stuffing the candy in his robe and walking to the door, taking a final look at the cowardly Gryffindor, before opening it and walking in. He made his way back over to where you sat, standing in front of you. “I’m back,” He stated, letting Ominis know he was there. Ominis sighed in relief, glad to have someone that wouldn’t talk about some guy nonstop. “They’ve been talking this whole time, I’m becoming annoyed, to be honest.” Sebastian chuckled, reaching to take your hand. “I had a nice chat with Prewett. Now we need to get you to Professor Sharp.” You stood, gazing around as Sebastian led you toward Sharp, gesturing for him.

     “What is it, Mr. Sallow?” Sharp asked, standing before the two of you. Through gritted teeth, Sebastian explained to him the events that led to where you were now, glaring in Leander’s direction at the mention of his name. Alarmed, Sharp quickly led the two of you out of the hall to the potions classroom, Sebastian’s hold on your hand tightening as you whined, watching Leander’s figure shrink the farther you walked. Sharp ushered you into the classroom, heading to his desk to gather ingredients for an antidote. “How many did you say they ate?” He asked, measuring out portions of mandrake leaves. “Seven, I have the other three here.” Sebastian handed the candies to Sharp, who quickly examined them. “Seven is quite a lot, but this looks like Amortentia, which calls for an even stronger antidote.” Sebastian’s breath got caught in his chest, his anger melting and turning into stress. Sharp muttered to himself, mainly about how Leander had gotten his hands on the potion, and how he would reprimand Leander as soon as the ordeal was over. Sebastian watched as Sharp mixed the ingredients in the cauldron, glancing over at you every now and then to make sure you were still there, even with your hand locked in with his own.

     “Here, take this,” Sharp said, handing you a small cup of blue liquid. You slowly looked down at it, furrowing your brows. “Is this from Leander?” You asked, hesitant to take the cup from Sharp. Sebastian nodded, taking the cup and placing it in your hands. You smiled and quickly downed the contents, face contorting as the bitter taste took over. Sharp took the cup back, observing your face as the potion took effect. You shut your eyes tightly as you shook your head, coughing. Your mind seemed to clear up slowly as you squinted, looking around. You gagged, the full effect of the potion finally hitting you. “Why am I in a classroom?” You questioned, looking over at Sebastian and Sharp. Sebastian sighed in relief and thanked Sharp, who nodded his head. “Of course. Now, if you’ll excuse me, it appears that Mr. Prewett needs to have a chat with the Headmaster and I.” With that, Sharp excused himself, walking out of the classroom and heading back to the dining hall.

     You looked up at Sebastian, confused. “Last I remember, Poppy handed me a box from Leander, and I ate one of the candies to be nice.” Sebastian squeezed your hand, motioning for you to sit down. “He dosed those candies with love potion.” You felt your heart stop, disgust and shock mixing together on your face. “You mean to say,” You started, face heating up, “That I fell in love with some guy? Leander?” You shuddered, pretending to gag. Sebastian smiled as you dramatically pretended to be sick. You turned and buried your face into his shoulder, muttering. “That’s disgusting. Imagine, ditching you for Leander. A nightmare.” Sebastian chuckled, wrapping his arms around you as he held you, placing a soft kiss to your temple. “You’ll have to apologize to Ominis.” You looked up, frowning. “What did I do?” “You apparently talked his ear off when I left to have a chat with Prewett myself, I don’t think he’s too fond of the name at the moment.” “Oh no.”

     Leander did not get expelled, but he was delt a heavy detention, along with losing Gryffindor fifty points. You stayed by Sebastian each time you had to walk past him, who only glared at him, reminding him of his previous threat. Terrified, Leander never talked to you after that, or even looked at you for that matter. You didn’t ask what Sebastian had told him, nor did Ominis, who was just glad that you were talking normally again, forbidding Leander’s name from ever leaving your mouth when you were around him.

[legacygirlingreen]

Sebastian Sallow AI Audio

What would happen if students helped during the final battle of the repository? Well, take a listen...

This is from my fan fiction found here, but CAN be enjoyed separately! Although , I stray from canon quite a bit, just a heads up!

From this chapter, if you wish to read!

Someone please let me know if it doesn't load, and if not here's the link to it on YouTube! I recommend headphones!

(also credit to @deathlysallowsfor the photo of Sebastian in the header!)

Thanks to @strawberrypinky like always! Also @eternalremorse for listening in its rough state!

[btsbabe7]

Golden

Word Count: ~250

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x reader

Synopsis: watching the sunset with your best friend within the grassland vivarium.

You sit on the edge of a cliff overlooking crashing waves hundreds of feet below as you gaze out towards the setting sun. It moves slowly over the cascading mountains in the distance, gifting the ripples below and everything else in its wake with a shimmering, golden cast that reflects like diamonds off the surface.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” You hum, completely overtaken by the beauty a single room can provide.

A soft palm glides underneath your own and intertwines its fingertips between yours just as a fiery phoenix swoops overhead towards the descending sun. The winds that gust off the bird’s golden wings provide a perfect breeze in the warmth of the evening. It truly feels as if you’re in another place—another world—a dream. It brings a new sense of peace; it’s an inner bliss you never could’ve imagined existing within the walls of the castle you now call home.

“You’re beautiful,” Sebastian breathes and gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “Breathtaking actually.”

You smile softly, even though you wish you could conceal it. He’s always known just what to say to make you feel more alive no matter how many times you try to deny it.

In your new world where you’d invited him to watch the sunset with you, out the corner of your own eyes, you catch him staring at you as if you’re his. And that too, provides you with another sense of peace. One that only your true love, your best friend, can provide.

Please be sure to check out my other latest fics:

⚡︎ Rain Does Not Fall on One Roof Alone (m.) - Ominis Gaunt x Sebastian Sallow x reader

⚡︎ Untitled (m.) - Sebastian Sallow x Ominis Gaunt x reader

⚡︎ Coffee (Love You a Latte) - Sebastian Sallow x reader

~ Navi: masterlist (all fandoms)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction, but please don’t copy! Written purely for fun :) Please only repost to other socials w/my permission and credit! Reblogging w/credit is fine. Thank you! ♡

Photo taken by me :)

July 2024

[rae-and-mezo]

How HL boys take care of reader while they are sick?

Ominis Gaunt:

Despite his many health issues due to his familie's family circle, Ominis has a very healthy immune system.

So he's not worried about catching whatever you have.

But he's still kinda grossed out by the idea of germs.

Of course he is there for you! Don't even worry about being alone, he's bringing you soup and water from the kitchens and making you tea for your throat. He'll bring you blankets or take them away, anything you need.

But if you're throwing up? He's supporting you from a distance. He'll rub your back when you are FOR SURE finished.

I don't think he will take the day off classes but he brings you your homework and if you're sick enough pretty much does it for you.

If you want, he reads to you in an attempt to keep you alert and not delirious

He'll hold your hand while sitting next to you, but doesn't initiate any kisses or cuddles. Honestly, he doesn't WANT any kisses or cuddles while you are sick but he knows you need comfort so one or two don't kill him.

Sebastian Sallow:

He's absolutely unbothered.

Especially after Anne became cursed, he has lots of experience with sick people. Sebastian is such a caregiver. Honestly, he kinda loves an opportunity to take care of you.

Will wash your face with a cool cloth every couple of hours, keep you up to date on potions, run you a hot bath when you need it, etc.

Does not care how sick you are. Nothing is his limit. Holds your hair back and rubs your back if you're throwing up, holding you close if you're delirious or emotional.

If you're sick for long enough he's hoisting you up and taking you outside for little bits at a time. Keeping your room clean and your windows open.

Much like Ominis, doesn't take a break from classes but spends his free period with you, lunch with you, brings you tea between classes.

Garreth Weasley:

Listen, man has like twenty siblings. Not really, but he has ALOT!

He is used to this. He's never really taken the caretaker role because his mother did that. When his siblings would get sick, he would run and grab things for his mom, bring them things on request etc.

So with you, he isn't used to putting his whole effort into caring for you. Of course he doesn't mind!

He's doing things he saw his mom doing, and brings you a concoction of "soothing" liquids. Tea, honey, lemon water, anything he can think of.

However, he does take the day off classes with an excuse that he stayed up to late and slept the whole day.

For the most part, he leaves you alone. Brings you your tea and changes out your forehead cloth, fluffs your pillow maybe, and leaves with a kiss on the forehead. Doesn't come back until either its time for a cloth change or you ask for him.

He can't skip classes forever, so he can only do it one day. If you're sick for longer than that, he will do his best to spend free time with you. He brings his dinner to come eat it with you.

Leander Prewitt:

Wants absolutely NOTHING to do with sickness. But he loves you, so, he can suffer.

Don't expect too much from him. He's such a germaphobe it isnt funny. He brings you tea and offers you a few stories about his day. He stays if you want him too but he isn't cut out to be a caretaker.

Oh man, imagine you fell asleep on him though! He sits beside you, a considerable distance mind you, but you sidle up to him and pass out on his shoulder.

He wants to be disgusted but you look ADORABLE and you trust him that much to snuggle him while you're asleep? It melts him.

After a bit though, He gently wriggles out from under you and makes sure you're comfortable on your pillow. Then he uses a few quick cleaning spells and leaves with a reassuring squeeze to your hand.

Amit Thakkar

Like Ominis, is a germaphobe but chill about it.

When he hears from a dormmate that you're sick, he runs into your dorm with breakfast and eats it with you.

He's so sympathetic. Every sniffle hurts him :(.

Amit is an only child, and his parents had never been real sick. So he doesn't know exactly what to do, but he tries.

He brushes the knots out of your hair and does what he can. Amit would never miss a day of classes, but he's a little behind because he takes notes for you. They're EXTREMELY detailed, explaining everything so that you won't be confused between gaps.

He makes you eat something and if you throw it up, he is grossed the hell out but supportive. Like, rubs your back but is looking away and trying not to breathe through his nose.

He's just so sweet, and when you're better sits you down for a tutoring session so he can go over what you missed. Even though he didn't need too with the notes he took.

[toxintouch]

Touchstarved fandom, your opinions, please??

(It's a sliding scale of competency.)

He's rich = he's never tried. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[trappolia]

HOUSE OF ERIDIA ── touchstarved x reader, high fantasy au

“Among the monarch's most intimate inner circle was their Master of Whispers (...) sharp and cunning, the mastermind of an intricate network of spies and informants that ran through the high aristocracy within the walls of the palace, down to the most slimy backwaters of the kingdom's outskirts. The truth of LEANDER’s threat, however, laid within his charm (...) it is said that not even his most beloved Eminence trusted him.”

Leander was devoted— as devoted as a man of such skill in less than legal information brokering could be, at least. Often times you wondered whether he was worth trusting; so much information he laid out at your feet like a suitor would bestow upon you with golds and jewels and fine silks, and just as much he kept away from you. Perhaps it was unwise to bestow upon the fickle position of Master of Whispers to a man who shared your bed, but never his own secrets-- or perhaps you thought too much of him. You did, after all, cradle your own secrets to your chest.

“To one such as the monarch, who clung onto their religion as if it were drywood amidst the furious seas, KURAS was a strange sort of salvation in himself (...) rumoured to be otherworldly, golden-eyed and infinitely wise not only in his knowledge of forgotten, they claimed him a lost eldritch being, shunned by the highest deities of the sky. Others said that he was a deity himself. But what deity hid in the shadows of the throne and kissed the feet of the mortal that sat upon it?”

Amidst the fickle serpents' game of politics and war, there was a superficial solace to be found in the religion you were raised in as a child. From that faith, your devotion extended to a gift from the gods laid at your door, the golden-eyed angel that you were not quite sure existed till they bestowed him to you. Strangely enough, he treated you with the same sort of reverence— as an acolyte might to their own deity. Yours was a strange relationship, a push-and-pull of prayer and religious guilt. Both of you hid your unholiness within a facade of worship and idolatry. You did not know why he has come, but you knew he saw you for what you were and bent the knee anyway. Be not afraid, he said. And so you were not, blindly so.

“The paramour was flame-haired and quick of the tongue, an exotic pet that graced the bed of Their Majesty easily enough once lured with the promise of lavish gifts and security (…) VERE traded his ugly iron shackles for a prettier set of golden chains, but he was not so cunning so as to let himself be lured in by the false promises of what he called “these damned monarchs”.”

It was not an uncommon feat for monarchs to take paramours even after marriage, but if the whore picked from the streets of silk was pretty enough, it could warrant the envious whispers of enraged nobles no matter how high a position one may hold within the royal family. Fortunately, Vere played the game of thrones well, you must admit. Of all the lovers and paramours you've taken over the course of your rule, he is the one you have to worry about defending in court the least… though his knowledge and skill holds up a different problem for you entirely. Perhaps your Small Council does speak some truth when they warn you of the lies he could entrap you in…

”THE STRANGER came like death on a misty night in the dead of winter. Who were they? What reason could they have to lurk around the castle halls, to indulge themselves in the benevolence of the monarch of which they did not worship? What did they seek, and why was Their Majesty so eager to offer their aid?”

A ruler as kind and benevolent as yourself was not so arrogant so as to be oblivious to the suffering of the smallfolk. Many called you naïve, too young to carry the burden of the crown, but you have inherited centuries of peace from your parents, and are intent on continuing such tradition. That is, perhaps, the reason why you welcomed MHIN into your palace that night, turning down your council’s suggestions of torturing them — where they’ve came from, why they’ve come, how a commoner possesses a gift for the magic arts. You offer them bread and wine and a place of rest, speaking nothing of how you’ve noticed their eyes flit about— not warily, but searching. It is naïvety then, in your hopes that MHIN finds what you seek in you, despite your sureness that you will one day stand at opposite ends of a looming war.

“Rare was a monarch who did not indulge in illicit affairs, whether it be a matter of simply flesh or true romance— but what transpired between Their Majesty and the creature of Crimson Grotto was so twisted that their story was told as both urban legend and warning even a millennia afterwards. But in the most desperate of times, even the most noble of the gods’ chosen are capable of such sin.”

AIS was already a figure of urban legend when you came to him him, a sopping wet half-adult playing dress up in an oversized crown and velvet robes weighed down by the grimy water that stained its hem. He never did tell you whether the stories you’d heard were true, only confirmed that yes, he is capable of what you beg him for. He thought of you foolish, to make a deal with an eldritch creature — or, at least, the vessel of one — but he realised too late that he’d gone off the deep end with you when it came to this deal. In the end, there was only his hope that they would not liken you, so good and so bright, to the hopeless thing that is whatever is left of him. Or, perhaps, it will be a last mercy to both of you, to be known in history side-by-side, mentioned alongside the other always— like a single entity.

© trappolia 2024

[little-emerald-snake]

⚠️ Please Read ⚠️

While I try to keep specific warnings on my content, please be aware that most of my writing contains graphic elements such as moderate to extreme kink and is intended for mature audiences. If this doesn’t bother you, welcome and enjoy. 💕

Note: ‘#little emerald snake’ on my page will pull up all my stories with correct warning labels (should be all but Kinktober and Smutmas)

Requests: I do take them but I’m under no circumstances under any obligation to fulfill a request or answer as to why I won’t be taking the request. Sometimes it’s really just as simple as ‘this does not spark creativity.’

ao3

Ominis Gaunt Masterlist 🩵🐍 🪄

Sebastian Sallow Masterlist 💚🐍📚

Garreth Weasley Masterlist 🧡🦁🧪

Leander Prewett Masterlist ❤️🦁🌿

[5sospenguinqueen]

MC: Why is your back all scratched up?

Garreth: (Flashbacks to when he chased a Kneazle for some fur even after MC told him not to)

Garreth: I'm having an affair.

MC: With who?

Garreth: (panicking) Leander.

Leander: (watching the whole thing) What can I say? I like it rough.

[hvnnybvnny6606]

Leander x Reader (Ask)

You take your seat at the bar pulling yourself in close to the hardwood counter. The glint bouncing off one of the large green jars catches your eye as the bartender pours it into a short crystal whiskey glass. The drink’s recipient takes a small sip before noticing you staring. 

“Y/N! I didn’t expect to be seeing you here today, how are things going?” Leander gets out of his seat to walk over and rest in the one next to you. 

“Things are going good,” you turn in the barstool to face him, “just felt like getting a drink.”

“Well, whatever you got can be added to my tab.” He flashes a smile, taking another sip. 

“Oh, no you really don’t have to-” he cuts you off by raising his hand and shaking his head smiling once more. 

“No worries, just tell me what’s going on.” Leander rests his hand over yours, squeezing it slightly. You feel the knot in your throat begin to itch and the muscles in your back slowly relax. You don’t know how to tell him what’s been bothering you. Even if you could find the right words to say you’re unsure of how he would react. Your mind begins to swirl with the last month's regrets and you don’t even notice the tears falling down your face until his warm palm cups over your cheek. 

“Hey…what’s going on..?” His voice calms your racing mind, his hand slides through your hair to wrap around the back of your neck. Leander pulls you in to rest on his chest. 

“I feel like I’ve failed.” You finally say it, your voice wavers and breaks but you finally told him. 

“That just means you get the chance to try again. Failure is never absolute it’s merely a stop on the way to success.” He strokes your hair and this is where you sit. Telling him everything. He listens while you cry, continues to buy you drinks and at the end of the night, he takes you home tucking you into bed, gingerly placing a kiss on your forehead before shutting the door and leaving you for the night. 

[darlingzelda]

Hogwarts Legacy Fic Requests

Writing a series of Hogwarts Legacy fics! I’m open to requests, so here are all the characters I’ll write for at the moment:

Garreth Weasley

Sebastian Sallow

Ominis Gaunt

Leander Prewett

Natsai Onai

Poppy Sweeting

Please let me know if you have an idea or would like to request a fic!

[thetotomoo]

sorry to bother you, I'm your hl fanfic fans, I love you write arthur plummly ,amit thakkar, andrew larson and other little character ,thank you write this

Hello, Anon! No bother at all! ❤️❤️❤️ I’m happy to answer comments and questions!

I’m very happy you enjoyed reading them! They were a joy for me to write and I hope I can one day bring the gentlemen back together in some odd shape or form. 😂

Funny enough I do have a random draft for them all together in a piece currently titled “The S.A.D Club” aka Single Arsed Dad Club. It’s one of many WIP (my notes literally tell me to stop making more WIPS 😂) that focuses on the HL characters as single dads and finding love! (Leander is an honorary member because he’s just so loveable I couldn’t think of possibly making him single, divorced, and/or widowed). It’s not complete by any means (I seem to keep running out of time this year for all the works I want to do 😅).

“How?”

Sebastian Sallow was struck— quite literally and figuratively.

“What do you mean how?” Ominis Gaunt cast him a rueful look, “I suspect it happened the same as anybody— he asked.”

“Yes, but how?” And ‘why’ was the other question currently needling his brain.

Among the few friends gathered in the room alike, Sebastian could not comprehend how in Merlin’s name, Duncan Hobhouse managed to be the first of their little club to find a woman to marry him.

Dubbed by Ominis Gaunt as the “Single Arsed Dad’s Club” or as Ominis like to refer to themselves in public, “The SAD Club” hosted weekly gatherings to exchange helpful information for the successful rearing of their respective children.

In truth, the brunch hours spent at someone’s home, the park, or the zoo were spent little on the merits of meal planning and tips on toilet training in favor of more pressing matters— gossip.

What had begun in their early years of polite conversation had devolved into a screaming match one fine afternoon. After several nights of interrupted sleep and months of no enjoyable company, the fine group of single fathers’ had broken down and recounted precisely the nature of their backstories.

Everett Clopton had broken first. Separated from his wife for irreconcilable differences and granted full custody of his daughter, the lady’s man of their formative youth had put himself in a state of wondering how he was supposed to raise a successful young woman.

Andrew Larson broke next, widowed and citing that their problems paled in comparison to the problems of the father of a young boy possessing a brilliant and exceptional mind as his.

Duncan Hobhouse had broken third, newly separated then, and feeling ill-prepared and ill-equipped to handle feedings and the administration of his daughter’s medicine.

Garreth Weasley broke after a moment of silence after that. Not a separated father or a widow— but a man who had been desperate to start a family and so adopted two of his own. It was his own fault– he sobbed. He loved his children; he did. But a young father at the age of nineteen? Even his family had thought him mad.

Ominis Gaunt had broken down not long after—also not separated or a widow; he had not wanted children. But the unexpected passing of his older brother and the news of the sorry state his two children had been left in tugged at his heart. At the gentle prodding of his Aunt Noctua, he ran at the last hour and took them into his home. Rescue aside, he felt aloof and cold in their presence, unsure how to speak or help them—did children like the ballet or the opera?

And Sebastian Sallow? He had sat silent, mulling over everyone’s words. He was widowed with a son, much like Andrew was. But his son was… just his son— happy, curious, and with a penchant for a bit of mischief like his Aunt Anne. He was a good boy. It was Sebastian who was suffering. Widowed and a father at a tender young age, the loss of his wife had not sat well with him for months. He had become a shadow and so far removed from enjoying the company of his own son. And so, at the eleventh hour of their scheduled meeting, he broke.

What followed was an Ominis Gaunt-mandated holiday for everyone in their group on a remote island, fixed with their own furnished cottages, the fabled Gaunt staff that would see to their and their children’s every meal, cleaning, and needs. And despite the chaos and likely a set of traumatized staff after a week, the gentlemen of “The SAD Club” forged on stronger and more honest with one another.

“Come on, Sallow… surely, you still remember how to talk to a girl.”

Tall, lanky, freckled, and sporting a shock of ginger hair, Sebastian glared at Leander Prewett, “What are you doing here? Since when were you single?”

“Hmm, I don’t quite remember,” Leander smiled, “I am a father, though.”

Leander Prewett—dubbed the honorary member of “The SAD Club” stood before them bearing baskets of home-cooked meals from his wife for the gentlemen and yet… still married (happily), still the father of his brood of three children, and still just as hopelessly lost as they were in fatherhood.

Sebastian stared wistfully as he waved farewell to friends. One arm was laden with toys and extra clothes, the other held the basket of food, and his shoulder carried a giggling, albeit tired, young boy.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, love?” He peered up to meet the brilliant blue eyes of Silas Oliver Sallow.

“Helena didn’t come play today.”

Helena Hobhouse and Silas had been friends for as long as Sebastian could remember. He had been surprised— so sure his cheerful son would cling to Garreth’s children more. But he thought Silas took after his mother, preferring to find his company among those he thought didn’t fit quite right in.

“Helena’s daddy erm… has gotten married,” he coughed as he strolled down the sunset drenched streets leading toward the train.

“Married,” the soft hum and silence were much too brief for Sebastian when Silas asked, “What’s married?”

“It’s…” he paused, chewing his cheek as he settled them into their compartment, “It’s when two people come together and become a family.”

“Like us?”

He chuckled, “Adults, love.”

“Oh… you mean like you and Aunt Anne.”

And then he choked wide-eyed at the only other person in their compartment, a woman with long blonde hair and a summer dress, hid behind a large newspaper, “No! No– no… not— erm…”

“But you and Aunt Anne are adults.”

“Yes, but—”

“And we’re a family.”

“Yes, but—”

“Are you and Aunt Anne getting married?”

“No!” Sebastian squeaked out, glaring at the rustle of paper and feminine cough on the opposite seats, “No… Aunt Anne and I will not be getting married. Ever. Erm… marriage is… between two people who become lifelong friends.”

“Oh,” Silas nodded, “Like me and Helena.”

“Exactly,” he breathed, making a note to apologize to Hobhouse if his young son was already thinking of proposing to his daughter, “A marriage is a good friendship between two people who stay together and create a family of their own.”

“A family? Like a mummy and a daddy?”

“Yes,” he said softly, “Like a mummy and a daddy. Or mummies. Or daddies.”

“Oh,” Silas nodded again, “So, Helena has two mummies.”

“Yes, love,” Sebastian smiled, “Helena has two mummies.”

“Will I get another mummy?”

Sebastian’s breath caught, and he stared at the wide and hopeful eyes. He had never considered it— the dark few years of Silas’ mother’s passing had left very little space for another woman in his life. After Anne shouted at him, he had focused so much on Silas that all thoughts of the prospects of dating and becoming married again had never occurred to him.

He had urges certainly… but it was nothing that a quick wank in their bathroom or in the dead of night could accomplish.

What would it be like to give Silas another mother? To have a wife again? Sebastian thought deeply with Silas’ big blue eyes waiting impatiently for his answer.

“Yes,” he said after a second, “But… they would have to love you first.”

And, he thought silently, they would have to love Silas with all their breath and heart as though he was one of their own. Anything less, and Sebastian would consider it imperfect.

“Daddy,” Silas snorted, “That’s easy!”

Suppressing a roll of his eyes, he laughed at the Sallow charm etched on Silas’ face– reaching to tuck him closer beside him.

One more hour– he thought as giggles turned into soft snores and the train rumbling on the tracks moved along.

“He’s a lovely and precocious child,” the soft voice proclaimed behind the paper.

“I’m glad we were so entertaining for you, miss,” he spat.

“Now, now… that sounds just a tad too bitter, sir,” she said before folding her paper carefully beside her to reveal a coy smile, annoyingly pleasing pout, and twinkling green eyes, “I meant nothing terrible, sir. Why— my brother and I are often mistaken as our father and mother at formal functions. And I can assure you, it’s right embarrassing to interrupt a Minister to correct him in the middle of our introductions to several other ambassadors.”

He flushed, lips twitching as she arched a brow at him.

“Fair enough,” he smirked, “Though I think I’d rather prefer explaining the definition of marriage a hundred times than be asked about a new mummy again.”

“Ah,” she nodded, crossing her legs as she leaned back in her chair and smiled— eyes softening at the sight of Silas curled beside him, “Well, I’m sure whatever you decide, they’ll easily fall in love with someone as sweet as he.”

~~~***~~~

Sebastian lay that night, tossing and turning for a good hour before he reached for his mobile, opened “The SAD Club’s” group of texts, and wrote:

SS: Silas asked if he was going to get a new mummy.

EC: 🥵🍆🍩🙌

GW: ❤️💖💞💘💒

AL: Good. And I would like to offer my condolences for the future Mrs. Sallow in advance.

LP: Oh my days! Mate, what do you need??

OG: Emergency meeting. Steepley’s at eight. DO NOT BE LATE.