#sebastian certainly tries

[theladyofshalott1989]

Read the Like Moths to a Flame series on [ Wattpad ] or [ AO3 ]

[ciel-phantomhives-world]

I've seen many Kuroshitsuji fans say that nobody OBVIOUSLY cares about the nameless twin because otherwise they would have asked about his whereabouts or whatever happened to him in that one month as well.

Well, let me put my 2 cents in on this. I think it's totally unfair to actually consider that as a FACT. First of all, Yana wrote the chapters till the green witch arc in such a clever way where nobody could actually tell if there are definitely 2 boys or not (unless it's the most observant ones connecting the dots together). She purposefully worded the dialogues of the characters in such a manner so that the readers don't immediately realize about a mysterious twin but also dropped random hints here and there. Otherwise where's the fun (the epic, well planned, dramatic reveal)? It's quite obvious that it was done for plot convenience and for a huge plot twist. Also, for more information about this topic, we'll just have to wait and see what happens in the future with the manga instead of treating assumptions as facts. Who knows, we might see the twins from other family members' perspective as well, just like a flashback but a more neutral one and perhaps we can learn more new information. (Unlike the flashbacks that we saw from OCiel's perspective which kinda seemed biased in some ways)

However, if we want to address this issue from the characters' perspective anyway (without taking the plot twist into account) then let's think about Madam Red. She clearly asked OCiel about what happened in that one month. But he didn't say anything, right? What can you do when somebody close to you is traumatized and doesn't want to speak about it? You may try asking them once or twice, indirectly, without mentioning the dead loved ones or anything specifically related to the trauma, so that it might be easier for the victim to open up and madam red knew that but if that doesn't work out then it's better to give it up (unless you're a cop or detective on a case then it's a different thing). It didn't work out for madam red, unfortunately. It's not like she asked about Vincent or Rachel specifically, either. But nobody points that out. Nobody says that "None of the characters asked anything about Vincent or Rachel which means they don't give a damn about them either and only cares about Ciel or blah blah blah."

Did Lizzie ask OCiel the same question about that one month? I can't remember it but even she saw the vibe OCiel was giving. Being all quiet, distant and all. She knew that asking him about his brother or anything related would only further agonize him, remind him even more of the trauma, might make him even more distant towards her and so on because everybody knew that the twins looked quite inseparable. They all probably thought that it's better to stay silent and not mention anything of the past for "Ciel's" sake. And as for Francis, Alexis and Edward, it's still a mystery about how they reacted after hearing that only "Ciel" came back 3 years back. We have yet to see their reactions.

We just know a few things about all of them. Those being:

1) they all probably assumed that the fire killed everybody that were in the mansion except Tanaka

2) then OCiel came back as Ciel and he never told anybody anything. So, again they probably assumed that either the other twin died in the fire or was with him the entire time but since he didn't come back with the twin, so he obviously died cuz he was already weak and how could he survive without anybody looking after him or guiding him? He definitely would have been with "Ciel" and the Butler, Sebastian, if he was indeed alive and so, in order to not remind "Ciel" of those awful memories, they didn't ask anything although some tried to some extent (as much as we know for now) and they sort of buried the memories just like "Ciel" did since it seemed hopeless anyway and not because they didn't care. Rather they probably cared and prioritized more about the only one that's still alive and for his wellbeing, they decided to remain quiet.

[flightlesstrash]

ace attorney x pokemon teams! (mostly investigations characters but with phoenix wright)

warning! yapping incoming!

these were all formulated with everything up to aa4 + investigations 1 and 2 in mind as i have not played past that yet! i've already made raymond shields/eddie fender's pokemon team so that doesn't show up here- but it exists!!

before i go into the teams, in this universe the prosecutor and defense attorney badges have been replaced to look more like these pokemon (this is important for later)

now, the investigator himself:

his doublade was given to him by his father before his passing. yes, it is a sword pokemon referencing his last name, but it also has outstanding defensive and offensive strategies. it used to be a defense attorney's pokemon, so it only makes sense that it's a good defender, too! miles himself has proven to be skilled at both as well. (also if you look at my other post about ray's team, his aegislash is related to miles' doublade!)

his gallade was also given to him back when it was a kirlia, but from manfred von karma instead of his father. it is yet another blade pokemon, and similarly to doublade, specializes in both offense and defense. it can defend others with its arm blades, but it can also use them to deal devestating blows very quickly

skarmory is another sharp mon, given to him by manfred. i have less reasoning for this one compared to the other blades, i just think it looks like a mon miles would own. i see it as his fly mon that he uses when it's more convenient to fly via bird than with a private jet (as long as it isn't raining)

his ninetales was also a gift from manfred, given to miles when it was a vulpix. it's very intelligent and fits the whole elegant thing he's got going on

it's hard for me to explain with words why he has an espeon but i mean. of COURSE he has an espeon. yk?? back in elementary, he found three abandoned eevee with larry and phoenix. they each decided to convince their families to let them have one, and miles' later evolved into espeon

finally his dartrix! it was given to him by gregory when it was a rowlet. not only do they have the same hair and similar fancy neck accessories, but they are both extremely precise with their attacks- until they aren't. dartrix spend a lot of time making sure they look their best and get distracted if something about their appearance needs fixing, and that feels very miles edgeworth to me

he also has some pet pokemon!!

the rockruff and shiny sinistea were his and his father's pets, and the persian was from von karma.

as you've probably noticed, most of his mons were given to him or passed down from his father figures. the only exception is espeon

next, that man...

he has a pidgeot that he mega evolves, and while i could say it makes sense to be there because it's a common route 1 bird, i'm going to be completely upfront and say its only actual reason for being on his team is the matching hair lmao

his sylveon was one of the eevee he found with miles and larry. it's the perfect eeveelution for him!!! picturing feenie with a sylveon is the cutest fucking thing ever i love them <3

arcanine are very loyal and protective, and they aren't the kind of mon to shy away from danger- very on par with phoenix. it also parallels miles' ninetales

he got his goomy shortly before the feenie trial, and it's the whole reason he got sick in the first place (he didn't realize just how germy goomy were)

yet another mon i can't quite explain the placement of, he has a cinderace. do you see the vision.

lastly, togedemaru. silly spiky hedgehog mon. need i say more.

next up, the butz-

his smeargle makes art with him and they each help each other hone their skills. he got it as soon as he set his mind to becoming an artist, and they've been inseparable since

he has a magikarp and a feebas because he thinks gyarados looks super cool and strong and milotic would be perfect to have as a model for his art. he can't evolve his pokemon to save his life though, so it's doubtful they will ever achieve their final form. he still loves them, though

there is ONE pokemon he's managed to evolve, which was his umbreon. it was one of the eevee he found with miles and phoenix. the one mon on his team he could evolve was the one that only required a strong friendship. speaking of, you may or may not have noticed that miles, phoenix, and larry's eevee all evolved via friendship......

his wimpod is not only just as cowardly as him, but it also spits out poisonous liquid when startled. that liquid happens to be very smelly, and when something smells... well, you know the rest! he really wants it to evolve into a super cool mon, but despite its inability to do so under larry's training, he still cares for it

he has a luvdisc that he brings around on his first dates for him and whoever he's with at the time to "discover" together. he does it to bring good luck to his relationships, as it is believed to bring about everlasting love between couples who see it. this, however, is obviously fiction, considering his relationships last for a couple months at best, despite his efforts

even in the depths of night, when no other bird dares to take flight!

she has two corvid pokemon. corvisquire are known to use tools (cough cough little thief) and murkrow love anything shiny. i considered giving her a tinkatuff for a short time, until i remembered that she would probably hate that entire line for opposing the corviknight line lmao

floragato is mischievous, dexterous, and likes to pull pranks every now and then. they are GREAT friends, and their antics oftentimes raise poor dadworth's anxiety to a dangerous degree. also, fun fact, kay is a cat person!! ...well, she's more of a bird person, but she does still like cats!

her gengar was inherited from her father. similar to floragato, it is mischievous and likes to pull pranks. it is also very stealthy and likes to hide in the shadows

frogadier is a ninja pokemon, so of course kay would love it! they are very skilled climbers and possess many cool ninja-like skills kay would be obsessed with. they train frequently together

finally her zorua, another mischievous mon. it can create illusions and disguise itself, and that would make it a great team member for the yatagarasu!

lang zi says: HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWL!

LOTS. OF. DOGGIES.

as i was making his team, i was concerned having only dogs/wolves would be a little boring or too obvious. after some reflection, i realized lang would 100% only have canine pokemon on his team so i stopped worrying about it

these mons are fierce, loyal, and care for their pack. they all fit very well! they can all howl at the moon with lang and bark at anyone who gets in the way of his investigation. except lycanroc. dusk form lycanroc don't really bark, but lang and the rest more than make up for it

oh? what's this? i'm giving luxray to yet another one of my favorite characters? yes, yes i am. and what're you gonna do about it?! i am unstoppable!!!! i know luxray is more of a lion than a wolf but that shiny is just too perfect. it's still sort of a 'pack' animal anyway so the luxray stays!! i like to imagine it's a bit of an outcast when it comes to other luxray because it acts more 'dog'-like than the others. lang noticed it was rejected from its own 'pack' and took it in in a heartbeat. while unable to exactly howl or bark, it does its best and lang still sees no difference between it and the rest of the pack (lang zi says: trans rights!)

he's also raising a houndoor pup which i think is adorable <3

detective gummy time, pal!

i completely forgot about this until a few days ago, but jake marshall gave him a cactus to talk to about all of his problems. in this universe, the cactus he gave gumshoe was actually a cacnea

he has a yamper nicknamed missile, of course! it's not really fully his since it's a police dog, but they have a really close bond and it's practically his at this point

he has a gumshoos because.... gumshoos.... gumshoe.... get it............. really though they are both very determined and not easily gotten rid of, and both can withstand being very very hungry, which gumshoe has to do often because miles keeps docking his pay. he never lets his mons go hungry, of course! just a lil thing they have in common (poor scruffy)

his fidough helps him make dough for noodles so he can cook homemade ramen. this helps him save money when he needs to and he can spend quality time with his lil guy in the process!

his magnemite acts as his metal detector in universe and is a police mon. like yamper, it's ended up being more of gumshoe's pokemon than the police's

palafin. palafin. pal. afin. ....... outside of the name though, it's very loyal and will do whatever it takes to help out its friends when they're in trouble. when it really needs to pull through, it will! just like gummy <3

make way, foolish fools! it's fran time!

obligatory vine whip mon, a shiny servine. it whips its foes relentlessly and is very prideful. due to its pride, it doesn't like to work with others and takes a long time to warm up to people and pokemon. very franny like, if i do say so myself

she has a shiny gardevoir that was given to her as a kirlia by her father, and it was given to her at the same time as miles' kirlia. she mega evolves it in battle

her shiny starmie is a symbol of her being a prosecutor, and she specifically went on a mission to find a shiny. i think she'd be a shiny hunter in this universe! feels very in character for her. i like to think her shiny obsession started when manfred gave her the shiny kirlia

her shiny galarian rapidash is also very prideful and fearless, and is one of the reasons she is referred to as a "wild mare" by others. she preferred the shiny, so she GOT the shiny

her alolan ninetales was given to her by manfred at the same time as miles' ninetales (both were vulpix at the time), and they are very close. it is a very calm and collected mon, and it helps franziska feel more at ease when the pressure of everything starts to get to her

the alolan persian was yet another mon given to her by her father at the same time as miles' persian. it's one of the many prideful mons franziska has, and it's also very hard to work with- unless your name is franziska von karma, of course!

(last few! spoilers for aai2, in case you haven't played it yet)

now, debeste team for debeste prosecutor!

he has a kricketune to conduct for, and they play music for his quaxwell to dance to. they like to put on shows for others to marvel at (their performances leave much to be desired, though.) he and his quaxwell both put a lot of effort into their hair (canon!), and a part of their morning routine is spending hours in front of the mirror together to perfect it. they also both put a lot of effort into their work, even if their prosecuting and dancing skills.... leave a lot of room for improvement

his leafeon has MATCHING QUESTION MARK HAIR OH MY GOD. i knew i wanted to give him an eeveelution because he 100% had an eevee, and when i saw leafeon. i nearly exploded.

he has a bulbasaur because "its pokedex number is #1, that means it's the best pokemon!" he gave it an eviolite and makes sure it's always carrying it

the cubone cries VERY often just like him, and i like to think that once sebby comes to terms with his father being horrible and lets a lot of that baggage go, the cubone grows from the experience, too, and evolves with him (im not crying theres just something in my eyes i swear)

he's got a deino, and to be completely honest, it's there because of the matching hair. what can i say, it's too perfect to pass up!!

prepare for the goddess of law's righteous judgement!

yes, she has a legendary virizion- shiny, at that!! i figured if anyone would have a legendary on their team it would be her. it's a sword of justice, after all. it's also the most intelligent of the swords of justice trio. ALSO. in pokemon reburst, the swords of justice are captured by GREAT GAVEL. as in verity gavelle. anyway-

dragonair are known as the "divine pokemon", and in this universe the blue gems on justine's clothes are meant to represent the blue crystals on dragonair

the flowers worn by yellow florges are the 'lion lilies' in this universe. they are protective and devote themselves to what they see as important. for florges, this is its flowerbed, and to verity, it's the law

leavanny care deeply for younger pokemon and are very parental. they would both do anything it took to protect their children, even if it meant going against the goddess of law herself

her shiny delphox.... i'm just gonna leave one of its pokedex entries and a segment from justine's fandom page here:

"it leaves burn marks in the ground with the flame at the tip of its wand. long ago, people used the shapes of these burn marks for divination."

"when gavelle investigates crime scenes, she sometimes swings her gavel, hitting the floor and leaving marks."

lastly, her bronzor is based on the yata no kagami. the badge judges wear in japan is based on it, and it's also the basis for verity's japanese name, mikagami, which means water mirror. the mirror is a symbol of god-like wisdom, honesty, and the truth. bronzor are said to reflect the truth, being based on the yata no kagami and all. they were literally made for each other. it's the perfect mon.

nowaynowaynowayyyyyy! it's mr monkey man!

he OBVIOUSLY has the do no evil monkeys on his team, he's literally the three of them stacked in a clown costume (his simipour is evolved because LOOK AT IT. they are the same)

speaking of clown, he has a mr mime. no need to elaborate

his alolan meowth is the one that becomes an armrest instead of the regular cat. alolan meowth are selfish and manipulative, and become hysterical if things go south for them. sound familiar?

his slakoth is there to keep up his silly harmless guy persona, but it later evolves into vigoroth to beat the absolute shit out of him once his true nature is revealed

thanks for coming to my tedtalk <3

if you have any suggestions for the current teams or teams for characters i haven't created yet, i'd love to hear them!

[fr3nchtoastcrunch]

Happy belated 80th to this legend

[slytherinboysvip]

never heard of a hug? | t.n

!best friend theo x slytherin reader with boyfriend!

y/n and theo were best friends for years, but one had a secret. y/n got a boyfriend, too bad theo hated him. (happy ending wink wink) nsfw ⚠︎

everyone around knew theo was a absolute flirt. any girl that caught his eye was given a smooth line, even if he didn’t even want to particularly pursue her. though, you were different..slightly.

you and theo had been close friends since your early days in hogwarts and he was always defending you- even when you didn’t want him to. you couldn’t remember how many guys were scared off due to the mere fact of his brooding eyes on theirs. however that changed when you got with your boyfriend sebastian.

theo was annoyed when you first told him the news, telling you he wasn’t good enough and that he’d just end up hurting or using you; that made you two stop talking for a few weeks.

your relationship began to blossom and theo grew restless. he cringed anytime he saw sebastian even look at you, let alone lay his filthy hands on your precious skin. he loathed him. he hated the thought of you being someone else’s. you were supposed to be his.

𓆙

it had been a few weeks since you and theo last spoke and you were standing in the courtyard talking with sebastian and pansy, as you were speaking someone suddenly walked behind you and wrapped their arms around your waist, their head turning to whisper in your ear; “miss me y/n?” you recognized that voice, and the low chuckle that came after it. sebastian’s jaw clenched at the sight of theo’s hands on your body.

“what’s your problem mate” sebastian scoffed. you turned around and pulled away from theo rolling your eyes playfully at him. theo smirked and looked over at sebastian smugly, “relax, never heard of a hug..mate”. it was a simple jab but nonetheless made your boyfriend livid, he already disliked theo for saying he wasn’t worth it and now this. he glared at you and tilted his head as he walked away, wanting you to follow. you groaned and glared at theo, reluctantly following sebastian.

theo watched you follow him, a smug look still on his face. pansy who was watching the entire interaction with amusement raised her eyebrow at theo “someone’s jealous, and i don’t mean her boyfriend” she snickered. theo rolled his eyes and crossed his arms “yeah right, we’re just friends”. she laughed and hummed “because you’re stuck in the friend zone”, he scoffed and walked away, making pansy giggle triumphantly knowing she was right.

you followed sebastian to his dorm and he closed it behind you, scoffing “why the hell are you friends with that prick”. you sighed and looked at him “look i get he can be a bit much but he’s been a good friend for years seb”. sebastian rolled his eyes at your plea and looked at you like you were insane “he fucking tries to act like your boyfriend y/n, you surly can’t be that dumb”, you scoffed at his accusation and crossed your arms in annoyance “i haven’t even spoken to him in weeks because of you!”. sebastian laughed dryly at your words, “right, because of me. not because he said i was a bad guy”, you sighed and shook your head, “you know i didn’t mean it like that”

his jaw clenched and he held his temples, taking a deep breath before stepping away from his door “i need a minute to think, can you leave”. you were certainly caught off guard from his nonchalant dismissal and you didn’t say anything, slowly walking out of his dorm and going to the slytherin common room.

you plopped onto the leather couch in front of the fireplace and let yourself sink in, staring at the red flames and trying to just disassociate. the seat next to you sunk in and you lazily turned your head to see who it was, seeing theo, you sighed and looked at him directly “you did that on purpose”, he held a smirk before he fully looked over at you and noticed your glum expression his face softening slightly. “did you two break up or something?” he looked concerned but in his head he was hoping you’d say yes. “no, well..i don’t know” you sighed and sat back against the couch”

theo hummed, trying to figure out what that meant, his arm instinctively wrapping around your shoulder. you didn’t move you just let him rest it there, he’d always been there for you before and he was here now. as you turned your head to speak to theo there was a loud scoff from behind you. “are you serious. you can’t even be left alone for one bloody minute before crawling back to him?” sebastian’s voice was filled with anger and directed towards you. theo stood up and paced over to him, towering over him intimidatingly.

“you just feel like it’s okay to yell at her like that? especially around me?” his voice was low as he spoke between gritted teeth. sebastian tried to keep his angry demeanor but the look of pure hatred in theo’s eyes made him gulp. shaking his head no, he tried looking over to you but theo blocked his view. “y/n im sorry tell him to back off”. theo chuckled at his half ass apology and you sighed standing up and walking over to them.

you crossed your arms and looked between the two. “what the fuck is up with you guys, im not some toy for you to fight over. quite literally.”. theo looked over at you, the hatred in his gaze softening “y/n you know you’re not a toy to me, dont say that”. you were expecting something from sebastian but he stayed silent, theo’s grip tight on his shirt. “you seriously arent going to say anything?” you glared at sebastian and he looked away immediately, quickly mumbling “i think we should just break up y/n”. theo smirked and let go of him, shoving him away thoughtlessly.

you stood there a bit shocked as you saw sebastian quickly scurry away, and you looked at theo dumbfounded. theo looked at you a bit empathetically despite his internal celebration. “im sorry, bella” his voice was low and sweet. you hummed and walked back over to the couch, immediately sinking into it. “what the fuck”.

theo sat down directly next to you, your thighs touching and he wrapped his arm around your shoulder pulling you into his chest. you didn’t stop him, you actually wanted, needed his comfort. his hands eventually found their way to your scalp and gently massaged it, trying to soothe you away from your thoughts. his attempt worked and soon enough you were letting your eyes shut in contentment, simply enjoying the comforting act.

𓆙

what you thought was a quick massage turned into waking up in theo’s bed in the middle of the night, his hands wrapped tightly around your waist holding you dangerously close to him. though he was in his pajama shorts with..no shirt, you were still in your uniform, at least he didn’t change you. you attempted to get out of his grip but he only held you tighter and nuzzled more into your neck from behind. after enough struggling you finally decided to just let it happen and you closed your eyes.

you tried to sleep but all you could focus on was theo’s peaceful breathing, how his big strong toned arms were currently wrapped securely around you like you’d disappear at any moment. you wondered if he enjoyed it as much as you did in this moment despite him being asleep, if he knew what he was doing, or knew that he was going to do this.

your brain eventually settled, focusing on theo’s breathing and matching his tempo, your eyes slowly fluttering shut as you drifted back off to sleep, feeling safer than you ever had.

𓆙

the next morning you were woken up feeling something brushing against your face, squinting your eyes open just to see theo staring down at you, his fingers gently caressing your cheek. “morning beautiful” he murmured, his voice low and raspy from just waking up. you couldn’t help but blush slightly at his words so early in the morning and he gave you a soft smile “i mean that, you’re beautiful y/n..he didn’t deserve you” his eyes never left your face as he continued to caress you.

you always wondered what he meant by that, if he thought no one deserved you, who did he want you to ever be with. “then who does theo” you sighed. he hummed and stopped his movements, grabbing your chin and making you gently look at him, forcing eye contact; “maybe i don’t deserve you y/n, but i know id be the only one who could give you the world and more, what you deserve”.

a gentle gasp left your lips at his sudden confession, but suddenly it all made sense, and for some reason..it felt like you were subconsciously waiting for this. a smile appearing on your face as you looked into his gorgeous eyes. “i wouldn’t mind you doing that”. he smiled back at you and wasted no time darting down and connecting your lips together in a heated kiss. it felt like fireworks going off with every movement, as if the stars were finally alining and this is what you two were meant for.

theo swiftly pulled you to straddle his lap and his hands began exploring up and down your waist as he deepened the kiss, his tongue now exploring every inch of your mouth and your tongues entangling together like you’re meant to be one. he held your hips down and began grinding you against him, making you feel how rock hard he was beneath you, feeling your core ache for more.

you moaned softly into the kiss as he moved your hips faster, his hands traveling back to squeeze your ass and giving it a harsh slap causing a pain and pleasure induced yelp to escape between the heated makeout. those noises alone fueled theo even more, ripping your shirt over your head and pulling back from the kiss, both of your faces red. he bit his lip seeing you in your bra and quickly pulled it off, groaning at the sight of your now exposed boobs. he brought his hand to your left boob and began kneading it in his hand, quickly attaching his mouth to the other and sucking.

you moaned as he toyed with your sensitive nipples, his tongue swirling and sucking on one as he kneaded the other between two fingers, gently biting and tugging your nipple causing gasping moans. he smirked and pushed you back against the bed. “i need you. all of you cara mia.” his eyes burned through yours with desire and lust, and yours returned the exact same. “please theo” you kept your eyes on his and as soon as the words left your mouth he yanked your skirt down with your underwear and practically growled at the sight. swiftly pulling down his pajama pants and boxers.

a surprised gasp left your mouth seeing theo’s size, it’s not that you hadn’t thought about it but you didn’t think he was so big, he smirked seeing your reaction and pulled you to the edge of the bed, standing on the floor and positioning himself in front of you. he looked down at your naked body hungrily as he teased your soaking entrance with his tip, “what is it that you want, go on and ask for it principessa”. you didn’t want to wait any longer so you complied “please fuck me theo, i need it”. with that he pushed himself inside of you and groaned feeling your tight walls clenching around him and suck him in deeper. “fuckk..”

a moan left your mouth as you tried to adjust to his size, his hands grabbing your hips as he began to thrust in and out slowly letting you get used to it “fuck you’re so tight, so fucking perfect”. soft moans escaped your lips as he thrusted into you and it gave him the okay to go faster. theo’s pace quickened instantly, the sound of his hips slapping against your ass now echoing the room along with you moans. he leaned down and wrapped his hand around your throat, “so fucking stunning like this for me, all for me”. his words only made you feel more pleasure as he rammed in and out of you relentlessly.

your eyes were on his as you moaned uncontrollably under his grip, his low and deep groans making your stomach do backflips. you could already feel your orgasm approaching and he could tell, your walls clenching around him desperately. “no cumming until you tell me who you fucking belong to y/n” his eyes were on yours, a dominant and possessive glint in them and his pace didn’t falter.

your body was so close to going over the edge and you let out between broken moans “fuck..mm, you theo, im yours” you managed to get out and he began fucking you at an unforgiving pace, letting go of your neck and using both hands to forced you down against his dick to meet each thrust, “cum for me, cum like a good girl, my good girl..all mine”

your orgasm quickly washed over you, hitting you like a wrecking ball as the pleasure in your core unraveled cumming harshly over his dick, theo tried holding his own orgasm back but couldn’t take it, the sound of your loud strained pleasure induced moans and tight walls throwing him over the edge, releasing his load deep inside of you, the hot cum shooting into you deeper with each of his faltered thrusts. “you’re all mine now y/n”.

haven’t written this much in forever, hope u enjoy!

[ombiblombi]

Eyefest is just a big philosophical sea-puppy if you treat her right and get on her good side <3

(SECOND HALF HERE!)

Okay heres that comic I was working on before I got a littttle distracted with working on the Painter Animatic. Uh. Its also not even all the panels either theres still like. eight more gigantic lines of dialog delving into sebastians psyche. Man. Who knew mind reading sharks could become the closest thing to a therapist you can get in the hadal site- anywhos Lmk if y’all want me to finish the rest of this later I suppose

This was based on @ortly and I's roleplay we've been up to :] Nothing like being up at the crack of dawn to pertend to be a Radioactive shark, am I right?

Anyywaaays. Depending on how well im feeling after finishing the animatic and maybe coming back to this, might do a comic on Painter and it's first experience with Intrusive Thoughts. Im soo niceys to that 'puter I promise I certainly did not put it through the Anguish of experiences closer to that of the human mind, nono

(Also sorry mobile folks. I know the colors are all out of wack- I tried to make it easier to see best I could, but. Its still pretty dim 😔)

[animeyanderelover]

Could you write another lover massaging the yanderes but with Levi Ackerman, Annie, Ash, Sebastian, Yui and Angel Devil(with some sort of clothing covering him probably or another solution you can think of) ?

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, clinginess, mentions of self-harm in Ash's part, mentions of sexual assault and scars in Yui's part

Tags: @lovley-valentine7 @leveyani @chxxz @shumidehiro @cachamata

Receiving a massage from their s/o

Sebastian Michaelis

🐈‍⬛​Oh~? What do we have here? The level of smugness emitting from this man as soon as you offer to massage him after a particularly stressful day in the Phantomhive manor is unmatched, red eyes regarding you with a mixture of arrogance yet also fondness. This man teases you so much about your offer, especially if you didn't have the fondest opinion of him at the beginning. Still, he would never deny any physical contact with his mate, especially if his darling is the one initiating it. Still, as long fingers slowly remove every piece of clothing from his torso you can't ignore the suggestive gleam in his eyes. Quite honestly, the way he undresses in itself is almost inappropriate for some reason and the more you can't help but stare the more suggestive it seems to get. You're certainly nowhere as good as he is and for the first few moments his perfectionistic nature gets the better of him as he corrects you teasingly where to touch him to make him feel good. After a while he falls silent though and just enjoys the touch of his mate, the occasional growl of enjoyment escaping his chest which catches you off-guard the first few times.

Ash Landers

▫️​The thought of that much skinship almost has the angel feeling dizzy as soon as you offer him to massage him. You do not owe him anything at all, he doesn't mind the stress and frustration he feels with such a rotten world as he does it all for you. You actually need a good few minutes before he caves in, your impending disappointment and sadness much more painful for him than his principles. He gets quite flustered as he removes his clothes though, soon followed by a wave of shame as soon as he reveals some of the wounds he has inflicted himself when not feeling good enough for you which haven't faded away despite him healing faster than humans. Honestly, he's terrified. His heart is pounding against his chest, constantly worried that you will criticise him somehow which makes him exceptionally stiff as soon as you start. That tension remains for quite a while though soon you also notice that he's trying to stiffle groans or any other sinful sounds whenever you find a good spot. His pale cheeks quickly take on a pink hue, one he doesn't want you to see as he tries to hide his face. The moment he finally does relax he finds himself tearing up, touched by your kindness.

Annie Leonhardt

💗​There has to be an already established trust between her and you or otherwise Annie won't feel comfortable enough with your suggestion. She is in need of some relaxation though considering that she is constantly brooding over everything that has happened. Initially she denies you though after some awkward seconds of thick silence have passed by between her and you. Do not pester her too much or else she will get irritated and rude, do it the right way so that she doesn't feel annoyed. Once you have managed to convince her that she should try to relax for once and that you just want to treat her well Annie is doing her best to hide how flustered she actually is deep down behind her cold facade. Her control flips away though the more layers of clothes she removes until there is a dust of pink on her cheeks. Still, she is very tense and constantly steals glances at you once you start touching her as she isn't quite used to being so vulnerable with someone. Convincing her to relax and loosen up takes a while, all her muscles stiff as if she feels the need to be on alert. Once she slowly learns how to unravel a bit she stops her cautious glances and just silently enjoys the experience.

Levi Ackerman

⚔️​Levi struggles to be openly vulnerable after all the tragedies he had to experience throughout his life and you could almost say that it low-key scares him to reveal that much of his heart and thoughts to his darling. Whilst he doesn't outright denies you when you offer him a massage there is still a long pause as you can see the hesitation and conflict deep within his eyes. He struggles with the idea of being so defenseless, of having that amount of physical contact he probably hasn't experienced since he was a baby and held in the arms of his mother. Needless to say, he's awkward and conflicted even once he complies. There is that fleeting look he gives you once he unbuttons his shirt and reveals his battle-damaged torso to you as if he wants to gauge if there is any hint of shock or unease on your face in which case he would instantly stop this idea. He flinches the first few times you touch his body before he forces himself to stay still yet it still takes him quite a while before he slowly allows himself to relax a tad bit more and to loosen up his tense muscles. It's a strange sensation though, a level of comfort he isn't quite used to as he just bathes in the soothing silence between the two of you.

Komori Yui

💎​Normally Yui latches on to every bit of affection her darling gives her, especially after everything she went through. However, she is quite hesitant when you ask her if you could give her a massage. There a bite marks all over her body from whenever someone from the Sakamaki or Mukami brothers sucked her blood against her will and it elicits feelings of shame and insecurity awake within her. She's worried that you may find those scars ugly which is why she finds herself having a hard time agreeing to it. It needs reassurance from your side until she agrees. There are still doubts within her mind and even though you assure her that she doesn't need to feel pressured Yui does as you tell her simply because she is deep down scared that she'll lose you otherwise. Trembling fingers still give away how much she is still in distress as she undresses even if she does her best to act like she is fine with it. None of that fear is directed against you though which is why she is begging you to continue whenever you ask her if it's really alright for her. She feels bad for the way her muscles tense and tremble even after she finally relaxes, her body finally recognising you as her safe haven.

Angel Devil

👼​Angel Devil finds himself tilting his head, expressing some concerns regarding his abilities to steal the lifespan of those who touch him. Some part of him is still mildly interested to know what massage feels like as he has heard occasionally about all the therapies and the advantages of it. Now, ususally he isn't a fan of being ordered around too much due to his lazy nature but he makes exceptions for his darling. The only thing he insists on is that you cover your own hands as well as his back to avoid any skin contact. Honestly, he has zero ideas of what to expect despite what he has heard in the past as he just lays down, putting an amount of trust in you he very rarely grants other people. The sensation of being touched, even if only through layers of clothing, in such unfamiliar and intense ways catches even him by surprise though for the first few moments. As soon as he has categorised the sensation as pleasant though he lets you carry on whilst he just enjoys the fact that he has to do nothing at all and can just enjoy this massage. Angel Devil finds himself more than once dozing off between sessions, lazy eyes opening before closing once more.

[rhaenyraeri]

You think grandpa remmy would be confused by the brainrot of a younger vampire?? I suppose this is a request?? Just a confused Remmick with a brainrotted younger vamp. (I was thinking of the clip of Sebastian Stan and David harbour on instagram talking about Rizz lol)

oh god he would embody the 🤨 SOOO often with younger vamps lol. i got a little ahead of myself with this one so i grant you all this lol i hope i did your question justice 😂

two times remmick learned modern slang, and the one time he tried to use it.

as the years go on, remmick continued to collect unsuspecting victims as his vampiric entourage. he took in the different mannerisms, opinions, interests, and knowledge from each person, all changing over the decades. when the year 2025 arrived, he’d thought he saw and heard it all. oh, was he severely wrong.

the modern generation of young adults were certainly something. their humor was.. out there. the opinions were more widespread and more strongly defended, and their fashion was drastically different from that of the 2000’s and before. he’d heard weird phrases slung around between the younger ones time after time, however one night, he’d had enough. what the fuck were they saying?

��� the newest member of remmick’s vampiric hive feasted on the blood of an older lady, an easy victim. remmick sat in the corner of the living room on the coffee table watching the fledgling endulge on their 3rd body tonight. they’d drained the body dry, raising up in content and looking to the ceiling. “ahhh yeah, that slaps hard.” remmick’s content smile drops, eyes furrowing as they locked onto them. “i-it can’t slap, it’s dead! the hell are you talking about?” “it’s what all the kids nowadays say!” he just accepted the fate he made for himself. he’d be hearing that a lot more now.

— the younger vampires stood behind him as he tried to pry his way into a family’s house, one that had more than 10+ inside. a perfect coincidence. and the woman that opened the door was a beautiful young lady. again, a perfect coincidence. remmick turned his charm on and got to work, using definitely outdated compliments and pick up lines that made the woman get more and more unimpressed and uncomfortable. she told them all to fuck off, and slammed the door. remmick put his head down, and the young vampire behind him muttered a few words. he raised an eyebrow at them, “what’d you just say?,” his anger rising between the failed feast and the snarky teenager. “i said, you don’t have rizz, remmick. you’re not gonna get into a pretty woman’s house using shit like that! you gotta rizz them up!.” he shut up quick, staring ahead confused and trying to figure out what the fuck rizz was. “rizz? that’s not even a word?” “it’s short for charisma, geezer. you don’t have that.” it took a LOT for him to not strangle the teenager then and there, but he took a deep breath and collected himself. did he really not have charisma? it’s worked before…

— by now, remmick had been around these young adults long enough to no longer question the weird slang they use. hell, he’d started to understand a few of the words. well, he says a few, but everyone knows he’s probably lying. to be fair, he was hundreds of years old, he’s saw the world change drastically, ways of life get impacted differently, and definitely speech changes. but something about this generation’s slang was… odd. so, one night, they’re all in the woods as they took down a small group of campers at a national park, and one of the vampires got a little snarky about their tactics. he was the only one who felt that way, so this sparked the beginning of an argument. before it could escalate too far, remmick got between them, and said “now-now hold on, we all got our opinions, and we all gotta hear each other out. come on now, let him cook,” and nodded his head at the direction of the male vampire. every single one gave him the same confused look that he’d once shown to them. “since when..? never mind, remmick. you don’t get the right to say our slang. it just sounds wrong when you do.” “i used it right, didn’t i? y’all aren’t the only ones who can pick up new things around here.” the tension from the argument had immediately disappeared, and all the vampires started to suppress their laughter and go back to their feedings. now remmick stood between the massacre, just staring blankly. “next time, i’m just gonna crash out on y’all.”

[thevanillerose]

REGAL | CIEL x SHY!READER | BLACK BUTLER

~ WRITING COMMISSIONS ~ ~ PATREON ~ ~ KO-FI ~ ~ NOVELS ~

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own anything except my own writing. All properties belong to their respective creators.

“I'm nervous...” “Don't be.”

Sebastian smiled at you charmingly, hoping to calm your nerves even by a little. The two of you were standing outside the door that led into Ciel's quarters. This infamous boy, the 'Queen's Watchdog' as they called him.

Believe it or not, you were a marriage candidate for him. It was crazy to even consider, but there was a chance that he would say 'yes' to you, and just like that you'd be married to such an iconic person.

On the flipside, there was also the chance that he might say 'no'. That was always a possibility, unfortunately, and not one that you especially looked forward to.

Nobody wanted to be rejected, did they?

“Any last minute advice?” you looked up at the tall, black haired butler. He simply continued smiling down at you. “Just don't act too rashly, that is what I would advise.”

Don't act too rashly. Okay...that should be simple enough, right?

 Gulping, you readied yourself just as he pushed the door open and let you go inside. You truly had no idea what you were expecting, as he closed the door again and left you standing there in the glass walled conservatory.  

 The place where you had been tasked with meeting the young master Phantomhive was a pleasant one. Delicate rays of sunlight shone in between pastel rose petals, which surrounded a seating area of wooden furniture painted in flawless white. Upon the table there was a rack with an array of pastries, and two cups sat ready and waiting by the teapot.

 Upon the bench, there he sat.

 Ciel wasn't particularly tall, but you were instantly intimidated. Uneasily, you tried to approach with grace nonetheless, and caught his attention as soon as you were close enough to the side of the bench. Ciel slowly turned his head, and simply looked at you.

 “...”  For a brief moment, his eyes almost seemed to widen, and your hopes raised. Yet just as quickly he was wearing that placid mask again, one which didn't tell you even a little of what he was truly feeling. It felt so tense, knowing that you were being silently judged by him, worrying about what you should do or say.

 “...Aren't you going to sit down?” Ciel suddenly prompted, and gestured to the bench opposite from him. In an instant you were flustered, hurrying to take the spot.  “Ah yes! Of course, I apologize...I'm already wasting your time...”  He quirked a brow. First impressions...  ...You were very pretty. That much could certainly be said. You also seemed to be very shy though, to the point where it appeared to be hindering you somewhat, making you excessively anxious when you really didn't need to be.  

 As you sat yourself down, Ciel clasped his hands calmly in his lap and observed you thoughtfully.  “I'll admit that I did not expect you to be so...meekly mannered.”  “That's my fault, I'm afraid.” you admitted, going a little red in the cheeks as you shifted to get more comfortable. “I...I'm a bit of a shy person, you see...”

 “Hmm.”  Ciel pondered that. Well, you did come across that way. Was it necessarily a bad thing? That he wasn't sure of. It didn't actually bother him too much.

 So many of the potential candidates who had been sent to him had been too loud, too arrogant, or too annoying for his tastes. You were different from the lot of them...and though it made for a slightly awkward scenario, he was actually pretty relieved that you were.

 “...[Y/N], that's your name?” he prompted, to which you nodded and looked up into the one azure blue eye that he had to show. The other was shielded by a black patch, partially obscured further by his soft blueish hair. You could certainly see why so many wanted to be his wife. He was like a porcelain doll.

 But this only made you worry more about how worthy you actually were. Could you possibly be a good spouse for someone like him? You didn't know that you could...

 “Yes...that's my name...” you uttered, and Ciel sighed softly before pouring you some tea.  “Well tell me then, [Y/N]. What is it that drew you to me?”  Actually, that was something you could answer.  “Well it wasn't just recommendations from my family that made me decide I'd try my luck. I...I've heard so much about you, I've become so curious. And in person, you're a little...”

 It was just going to all come out now, wasn't it?  “...Stunning.”

…

 Funny how a single word could claim you that chance.

 A few days passed after the meeting before a finely written letter arrived at your parents' mansion, notifying you all of your success as a bridal candidate. Actually realizing that Ciel wanted to be with you...it was a dream come true.

 Of course, you were still nervous about it. Yet the more times you met him, and the more pieces that were put into place for your eventual wedding, the more you started to relax and fill that role.

 It was on your shoulders to put forth a good image, after all. To represent the Phantomhive name as best as you possibly could. This would mean standing tall and graceful before others, proving that you were a worthy wife. You couldn't allow your inherent nervousness to change that. To put it in jeopardy.  

 So...you asked him, one day:  “Ciel I...I would very much like it if you could teach me...”

 “Teach you?”  He turned away from the array of blue and violet roses he had been admiring, and faced you fully. “What are you seeking to learn?”  You clasped your hands before yourself. Over the past few meetings you'd had together, you'd yearned to ask for some sort of guidance. You would have asked Sebastian but he wasn't your butler, and he only seemed to answer to one...

 “...I see. You don't need to say it, I think I already know...” Ciel walked up to you, already smelling like the flowers around this place, “You wish for me to teach you how to be more regal? To be like a true lady of the house?”  “Mm.” you nodded, and looked up at him sheepishly. Call it old fashioned, but that was what you wanted.  “Alright. Sit down with me.”

 He gestured to the very same bench where you had sat together during that first meeting. As you joined him there, Ciel brought over the teapot and fine china cups, one of which he set down before you. He then handed you the teapot.

 “Pour me a cup of tea the right way.”

The 'right way'? What 'right way' is there, exactly?

 That was the question, wasn't it? Regardless, you obliged of course, nodding and proceeding to gently tilt the teapot. Immediately the lid almost fell off, but Ciel's pale hand quickly shot out and grabbed it before it could drop completely.

 “Careful.”  “S-sorry!”  “Why are you so nervous?”  “I-I don't know I just...”

 Your heart was pounding after that. You looked up at him, almost a little tearfully. “-I just worry about...humiliating myself, and then it ends up happening.”  “Perhaps if you stopped overthinking things so much then it wouldn't?” Ciel suggested, and you nodded. You knew he was right.

 “Here, let me demonstrate. You need to hold it by the top too. That way it won't spill out.” he explained, and positioned himself close beside you. As he did so, you only became more red faced. You couldn't help yourself. He only amplified the hindrance that you so typically had to deal with.

 “...Like this.”  If you hadn't already felt like you were blushing enough, he only worsened things as he laid his hands over yours and guided them gently. It was a simple task, pouring a cup of tea, but in this case you needed to learn to do it properly.

 “I think I know how to do it now.” you said, and then Ciel gestured for you to demonstrate. You did so, with poise and grace, and he looked satisfied.

 “That's it. You're doing well.” he noted, but you just looked at him with hesitation.  “I don't know...I feel like I could do so much better...like I'm not good enough...”

 Perhaps it was about time he made it clear to you. Without any reluctance on his own part, Ciel reached up with both hands and softly clasped your face between them. He held you gently, and leaned in closely before he spoke.

 “If you weren't good enough, I would never have chosen you.”

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[23victoria]

"my honeybee, come get this pollen"

pairings: 𝖿𝟣 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝖽 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

warnings: 𝗌𝖾𝗑𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗎𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗌

authors note: 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗌𝗄! 𝗂 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗏𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗈 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗂 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝖺𝗐 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝖾! 𝖽𝖾𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗈 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝖾𝖽𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀(𝗂𝖿 𝗂 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 😭) 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄, 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌, 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽!! 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒!! 🤍

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1k celebration f1 masterlist

lewis

As the festivities continue, you see Lewis glance at the envelope your best friend has just slipped him. With a curious look, he discreetly opens it under the table. When he sees the pictures, a slow, seductive smile spreads across his face. He catches your eye from across the table, his expression one of amused delight.

When he gets a chance, he leans in close to you, his warm breath tickling your ear. "You look absolutely stunning in those, you know," he murmurs, his voice low and smooth. "Maybe later you can show me more." He winks at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief and charm.

charles

Charles is in the middle of a conversation when he receives the envelope. With a polite nod, he excuses himself to take a look. As his eyes fall on the pictures, you see his cheeks flush a delicate pink. He quickly bites his lip and looks over at you, a mix of surprise and amusement in his eyes.

He shakes his head slightly, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "Naughty girl," he mouths at you, rolling his eyes in a teasing manner. Despite his best efforts to act nonchalant, the occasional glance in your direction betrays his intrigued thoughts.

sebastian

Sebastian's reaction is perhaps the most unexpected. He takes the envelope with a curious look, opening it with a slight frown of concentration. When he sees the pictures, his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. A soft chuckle escapes his lips as he looks over at you, shaking his head with a bemused smile.

He raises his glass to you in a silent toast, his eyes twinkling with humor. "Well, you've certainly spiced up the evening," he says with a laugh, his voice carrying a hint of admiration. "You always know how to make an impression."

oscar

Oscar, ever the composed and cool-headed one, opens the envelope with a calm demeanor. His reaction is subtle but telling. His eyes widen slightly, and a small, appreciative smile forms on his lips. He looks at you, his expression one of genuine admiration and curiosity.

"Well, this is certainly a surprise," he says quietly, his voice laced with amusement. "You look amazing." There's a warmth in his gaze that makes your heart skip a beat, his reaction understated but undeniably appreciative.

lando

Lando's reaction is perhaps the most endearing. He takes the envelope with a curious look, opening it slowly. When he sees the pictures, his cheeks turn a deep shade of red, and he stutters, trying to form words. His usual confident demeanor is replaced with a shy, almost boyish charm.

He looks at you, his eyes wide with surprise. "I-I didn't expect that," he manages to say, his voice a mix of awe and nervousness. "You look... wow." He quickly looks away, his cheeks still burning as he tries to regain his composure.

jenson

Jenson takes the envelope with his characteristic suave smile, a spark of curiosity in his eyes. As he opens it and sees the pictures, his eyebrows lift in surprise, and he lets out a low, appreciative whistle. He quickly glances around to make sure no one else has seen and then looks back at you, his eyes now filled with a playful yet intense gaze.

He leans in close, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "You look absolutely sexy in those pictures baby." His lips brush lightly against your ear as he speaks, sending a shiver down your spine. "I hope you have more surprises like this in store for later." His smile is devilish, his eyes gleaming with a mix of admiration and desire.

carlos

Carlos's reaction is a perfect blend of amusement and arousal. He opens the envelope with a grin, but as soon as he sees the pictures, his smile fades into a look of sheer surprise. His eyes widen, and he quickly puts a fist to his mouth to stifle a reaction. His cheeks flush slightly, and he takes a deep breath, trying to regain his composure.

He looks at you, his eyes dark with desire, and leans in close, his voice a low, seductive whisper. "You really know how to get a man's blood pumping, don't you?" His breath is hot against your ear, sending waves of heat through your body. "I might need more than just a cold shower after this." He gives you a smoldering look that promises more than just words.

max

Max, always eager for a bit of excitement, opens the envelope with an intrigued look. As his eyes land on the pictures, his usual composure falters. A deep blush creeps up his neck and spreads across his cheeks. He quickly shuts the envelope, his heart pounding.

When he finally gathers the courage to look at you, his gaze is intense, he leans in close, whispering in your ear, his voice husky, sending shivers down your spine. "Just wait until I get you alone. I’m going to make you feel things you’ve never felt before." His grin is wicked, his eyes promising a night you won't soon forget.

.•☆.° taglist : @ham1lton @ietss @animeandf1lover @nelly187 @heartsfromtaeyong @bloodyymaryyy @nor-4 @zacian117 @mel164 @uhhvictoria @hadidsworld @zabwlky1999 @sya-skies @lillysbigwilly @yoncesgroove @tellybearryyyy @exotic-iris13 @magixpracticality @eoduuung

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[thenerdykneazle]

Her Touch

Summary: Ominis had never been fond of being touched. Or, at least, he had few positive experiences with it. That changed with the arrival of the new fifth-year.

Ominis Gaunt x F!MC

Warnings: 18+ (only very mild spice here but I do want to do a time jumped part 2 that would be explicit), mentions of Ominis's abusive family, touch-starved Ominis

Word count: 3004

The first time you touched Ominis, he hadn’t been expecting it. It was in the Scriptorium, after he had commanded the door to open in Parseltongue. You had excitedly grabbed his shoulders as you said, “Ominis! You possess a rare ability, indeed!”

He had jumped at the sudden contact. Though, fortunately, you hadn’t seemed to notice. Your attention was quickly monopolised by Sebastian. Ominis was glad for it, as he wouldn’t have wanted to offend you, especially after his outburst at you outside the Undercroft. He still marvelled at how understanding you had been – how quickly you had forgiven him. He wasn’t used to such mercy. Certainly not from his family, and even Sebastian had a tendency to hold a grudge. Ominis definitely did.

Down in the Scriptorium, it had caught him off guard when you grabbed him, as he couldn’t see it coming. Besides, he didn’t generally like being touched. He hadn’t had many positive instances of others being in his personal space.

Most often, it involved accidentally bumping into other students. Other times, it was someone grabbing him to lead him off somewhere without bothering to get his permission first. Growing up, it had included a lot of being dragged by his ear by his mother or his older brother shoving him out of his way. The consequence of all of it was that Ominis did not associate being touched with positive experiences. They were jarring, often painful encounters.

However, already by the second time you touched him, it was different. Still in the Scriptorium, you had rested your hand on his arm as you told him you had found his Aunt Noctua’s remains. You didn’t grab his forearm; you just rested your hand gently on it. Not even your whole hand – just the tips of your fingers, really. It was a whisper of a touch, but you let it linger there. It was oddly comforting – like you were trying to communicate that he wasn’t alone. It kept him grounded to reality as he reckoned with the fact that his aunt truly was gone.

The third touch was when you agreed to tell Ominis if Sebastian was going to pursue dark magic further. You’d rested a hand on his shoulder as you vowed to tell him. He could tell you were sincere in your promise from your steady hand. That was verified when he received your owl alerting him that Sebastian had gone to the catacombs in search of Slytherin’s relic.

Though he always tried to take note, Ominis couldn’t remember every time you touched him. As your friendship grew, he quickly found out that you were what Sebastian called a “touchy-feely type.” You would hug him hello and goodbye, often multiple times a day. At first, you’d just sling one arm behind his back with your sides pressed together. After several months, you would wrap both arms around him as you held him chest-to-chest. Those hugs always left his face warm and his heart beating faster.

You also started to rest your head on his shoulder when you got tired. You always asked if it was all right. Ominis was surprised with himself the first few times, because he found that he quite enjoyed the weight and warmth of your head on his shoulder. You seemed so vulnerable when you leaned against him, trusting him to support you and not let any harm befall you should you give in to sleep. He even, on rare occasions and only when he felt completely secure in his environment, rested his own head back on yours. That usually resulted in him taking a nap, as well. He found that, despite the crick in his neck that he always awoke with, those were his most satisfying naps.

More recently, the back of your hand kept brushing against his when the two of you would walk together. He had jerked his hand away the first time, not anticipating the contact. He regretted it instantly when you muttered an apology. Ominis insisted that it was quite all right, though he was keenly aware that his actions had undermined his assertion. As it kept happening, Ominis’s reaction changed over time. He started to keep his hand very still so that yours might keep brushing against it. Now when it happened, his instinct was to extend his fingers toward you – though, he never actually did what he really wanted, which was to take hold of your hand.

Your touch had become a comfort for him. You held him when he cried, rubbed soothing circles on his back when he was anxious, and sat with your side pressed into his when he was lonely. Ominis had never known the multitude of problems a simple touch could solve before he met you.

Nor, however, had Ominis known the particular torment that such a touch could inflict. Just having you near him was enough to make his palms sweaty and his breathing shallow. If you rested a hand between his shoulder blades or, even worse, against his thigh, it sent his brain into a fit. He would get sweaty everywhere, and his tie would suddenly feel too tight. Just before the summer holidays, you had reclined on one of the sofas in the Room of Requirement as you read a novel while awaiting your exam scores. You invited Ominis to join you and promptly bridged your legs over his lap when he sat down. That had vexed him most of all. You hadn’t even rested them on him, just sort of over with your feet planted on the cushion to his right and your bum against his left thigh.

Ominis hadn’t known what to do with his hands. He didn’t want to accidentally rest them somewhere inappropriate, but he didn’t want to be awkward, either. Eventually, he settled on resting his left arm on the back of the sofa and his right hand on your stocking-clad knee. His thumb began absently stroking back and forth just above it, and he had blushed furiously when he grazed the hem of your skirts. It had brought, unbidden, the idea of sliding his hand underneath the fabric, trailing it up your thigh. That had a sudden heat building in his abdomen – and spreading across his cheeks.

“How is your book?” he had asked, hoping for a distraction.

“Erm…yeah. It’s…it’s good,” you had replied.

Ominis spent entirely too long trying to analyse your odd response. Had you been uncomfortable? Or perhaps just absorbed in your book? Could you have been as affected by the proximity between you two as he had? He couldn’t be sure, and he certainly wasn’t about to ask, “Are you finding this as stimulating as I am? Because I’m feeling quite randy.”

That would’ve gone over well.

He pondered the possibilities frequently over the holidays. Two months spent apart from you were horrible. Not only did he have to deal with his family, but he missed you something dreadful. At least, he had been accompanied by Sebastian, who spent the entire time at Gaunt Manor given he had no guardian in Feldcroft to look after him.

Ominis didn’t realise how much he’d been brooding until his friend called him out for having “resting sad face” and demanded to know what was bothering him. They had been lying in their beds, and Ominis shifted to his side to face Sebastian before admitting that he missed you.

“I think I’ve grown to have quite strong feelings for her,” he confessed.

Sebastian snorted out a laugh. “Oh, you think so, do you?” he asked, sounding thoroughly amused.

“It’s not funny!” Ominis groused, his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“It’s funny that you think it isn’t abundantly obvious that you fancy her, mate,” Sebastian retorted.

Ominis’s eyes widened. “What?” he asked, horrified at the thought of everyone knowing his feelings for you. He wasn’t ashamed of them, but he was quite a private person. The idea of everyone knowing such personal feelings of his was mortifying.

“Well, maybe not to her. People tend to be a bit thick about other’s feelings toward them, but I expect that anyone who knows you two can see it. You turn into a mushy little crup when she’s around,” Sebastian explained.

“I do not!” Ominis replied indignantly.

“Sure,” Sebastian said sceptically, clearly trying to avoid a fight.

They fell silent for several long moments.

“She fancies you too, you know,” Sebastian stated.

Ominin’s pulse jumped. “You can’t possibly know that,” he argued, trying to temper the hope bubbling up in his chest.

“I knew you about your cush, didn’t I?” Sebastian retorted. “Besides, she told me she does.”

“She did?” Ominis said eagerly. “Wait, you can’t tell me this, Sebastian! You’re betraying her confidence!”

Sebastian let out an exasperated sigh. “She never said I couldn’t tell you,” he replied.

“I’m sure it was implied,” Ominis said. “But…she really has feelings for me, too?”

“Without a doubt,” Sebastian said confidently.

That gave Ominis a lot more to think about before school resumed. He flipped back and forth between being elated at the idea that you reciprocated his feelings and panicking that the separation would change that.

All his fears melted away the instant you hugged him on the platform at King’s Cross station. It was the best hug he’d ever gotten. You clung to him like you never wanted to let go again, and Ominis would’ve been all right with that.

“Gods, I missed you two!” you said before giving Sebastian a hug, leaving Ominis to mourn the loss of your arms around him. “How was your holiday?”

“As good as being around my family can be,” Ominis replied. “How was yours?”

“Brilliant! Though, I wish you two could’ve visited!” you said.

The boys both agreed, though Ominis knew his parents would’ve never let him stay with a family they didn’t know. Or, rather, who were of unvetted blood status. He wasn’t about to subject her to experiencing his family in their own domain, so he hadn’t invited her to come to him.

Ominis had a lingering worry that things would be different between you two – that spending the summer apart would make things awkward between you. But when you rested your head on his shoulder and fell asleep as the train rattled down the tracks, he felt confident that you’d fall right back into how things were at the end of the last term.

Indeed, things seemed the same if not better. You often invited him to study in the Room of Requirement. His fear that he had made you uncomfortable the last time you’d been on a sofa together was eliminated when you took to putting your legs over his more often than not whilst you did your assigned readings. You only opted for one of the desks in the room if you had to write an essay.

It was a beautiful sort of torture to have you so close to him. It drastically decreased Ominis’s reading speed, but he found himself looking forward to studying now. He’d rest one hand on your knee while his other held his wand to let him read his tome. Sometimes you’d read aloud to him. Sometimes he’d hug your closer leg to his chest and rest his chin on your knee. It was like having his childhood stuffy but warmer and attached to someone who genuinely cared about him.

In the safety of your embrace, he shared his more intimate thoughts with you. Not the one about running his hand up your skirt, but about his hopes for the future, his frustrations with his family, and even his insecurities. You, in turn, opened up to him, as well. And as the weather got colder, you kept him warm in the draughty castle. Though, he was prepared to conjure a thick wool blanket over you if you ever seemed to be chilled.

After a month of being back a school, Ominis decided to admit his feelings to you. He was certain yours couldn’t have vanished over the summer given how you had only gotten more comfortable around him. However, when Ominis went to voice his feelings, he found that he didn’t know how. He knew how he felt about you, but he had spent his whole life suppressing how he felt to keep from stirring up trouble at home.

“I need to tell you something,” Ominis admitted during your daily study session.

He could hear you close your book and set it on the coffee table, giving him your full attention. “What is it?” you asked, sounding concerned.

“I…Well, I…” he tried, but his words were failing him. He usually fancied himself a rather eloquent individual, but he felt thoroughly uneducated as he stammered at you.

How was he supposed to tell you what was in his heart? Just say, “I like you”? Of course he liked you. You were friends. Close friends. “I fancy you” seemed so juvenile. “I want to court you” was too impersonal. It could be for your talent or station, but he wanted you to know how taken he was with who you were as a person.

You rested a hand lightly on his arm. “You can tell me anything, Ominis,” you said earnestly.

His heart swelled at your kindness. He wished he could say what he felt, but he didn’t have the right words. He moved to hold the hand you’d rested on him, lacing his fingers with yours. “I really like this,” he said, giving your hand a squeeze.

You squeezed his hand back. “I like it, too,” you replied.

“Good. I…I had hoped you do,” he said clumsily.

You stayed like that until dinner, your studies forgotten as you just basked in the closeness of each other. It hadn’t been exactly what Ominis had tried to accomplish, but it was definitely progress.

Ominis started taking other opportunities to hold your hand. He’d hold it during classes, giving up his dominant hand in favour of your warmth. Besides, he knew you’d share your notes with him later. He’d also search it out while you studied. He’d graze the backs of his fingers up your leg until he found your arm, which he’d follow down to the hand resting in your lap.

Sometimes, you’d take the initiative, taking hold of his hand while it still rested on your knee. Usually, you’d pull it down to rest it your lap or on your stomach, so you could relax your own arm. It always made Ominis’s heart flutter to know you wanted to hold his hand – and he found your occasional impatience quite endearing.

Then, one day in November, you pulled his hand to your lips, instead. His breath hitched as you placed a gentle kiss on his knuckles. Your lips were soft and warm, and Ominis had the impulse to reach out and brush his fingers over them.

“Is that okay?” you asked cautiously, your warm breath hitting the back of his hand.

“Y-yes, of course,” Ominis replied breathlessly. He could feel his face flushing with heat.

“Can I ask you something?” you said, sounding grave.

“Anything,” Ominis replied without hesitation despite the pit of worry in his stomach.

You shifted on the sofa, moving to sit up. Your knees pressed against his leg as you sat with your legs tucked under you. Ominis could hear you take in a deep breath before you spoke. “What are we?”

Ominis’s brows pulled together. “What?”

“To each other,” you clarified. “I mean, do you like me?”

“Most ardently,” Ominis admitted with conviction. It was only after the words had passed from his lips that he worried he’d been severely mistaken about your feelings.

“Oh,” you breathed out, sounding surprised. That only heightened his anxiety. “Do you not want to court me?”

“No, I do,” Ominis replied earnestly, wondering what reason you could have to think he wouldn’t.

“Then, why don’t you?” you asked. You didn’t sound upset, just curious.

“Well, I…I wasn’t sure if you’d want to, and…I didn’t know how to ask, I guess,” he said.

“I do,” you said before adding, “want to, I mean.”

Ominis felt like he’d just eaten a handful of Fizzing Whizbees. His whole body felt light, like he might float right off the sofa. “Really?” he asked eagerly, before trying to force himself to be rational. “Are you certain? I’m…not very good at this sort of thing. Clearly. I’m sure you could find someone much better suited to the task.”

“I don’t want someone else,” you said. “I like you, Ominis.”

He couldn’t help but smile. “Sebastian told me you did over the summer, I just…didn’t know how to tell you that I felt the same without it sounding ridiculous,” he admitted, not wanting any secrets between you.

“Sebastian told you?” you asked.

“I scolded him for betraying what you had told him, but he said you hadn’t asked him to keep it secret,” Ominis explained.

“I never told Sebastian that I have feelings for you,” you stated.

Ominis’s jaw dropped. “That lying rat!” he said, his anger swelling.

You chuckled. “Well, he wasn’t wrong,” you pointed out.

“I suppose not,” Ominis said, still irritated with his best friend. It was hard to stay upset, though, when he realised you had all but agreed to court him. “So, to make it official, would you do me the honour of letting me court you?”

“Yes,” you said without hesitation.

Ominis was beaming. Even knowing your answer ahead of time, he still felt overjoyed to hear it.

His singing heart began pounding hard in his chest as he felt your palm rest gently against his cheek. Your breath ghosted over his face as you leaned in, and he tilted his chin up to meet you. Your lips met his in a soft embrace. As they interlocked, it was a confession of your budding affections. A tender pledge of future bliss. You were his – your touch, your love, your loyalty. And he was yours, wholly and truly.

A/N: The line "a tender pledge of future bliss" is from the poem "To A Kiss" by Robert Burns

[sakurocha]

your sweet boyfriend does your makeup !

featuring sam, sebastian, alex ♡

⊹₊⟡ sam

he’s so FOCUSED

#TryingHisBest

his tongue peeks through his lips, eyes squinted as he does his best to draw your lip liner the way you like

the way your gorgeous eyes gaze into his threatens to distract him from the VERY IMPORTANT task at hand

but he (just barely) maintains his laser focus

up until he thinks about kissing your perfect lips as he gently cups your face for just a little too long

and the pencil slips from his hand and he PANICS

you turn to look at yourself in the mirror and burst out into laughter, the smudges of pink straying from the shape of your lips resembling a clown

"sammy, you can't let me out of the house looking like this!" you cry teasingly.

"i'm sorry, i'm so so sorry, let me just fix it..." he gently grabs your chin, turning you to face him as his thumb reaches out to clean up his mistake

his eyes are so focused, so intense, so doting, it almost makes your heart melt

he smiles confidently once he's satisfied with his fix, spinning you around again to admire his work

"better?" he asks as you tilt your head in the mirror this way and that, admiring your finished look and extra kissable-looking lips

"it's perfect, sammy, thank you so much!" you say, planting a kiss on his soft cheek

he startles in surprise before grabbing your face and pulling you in for another, deeper kiss

... his hard work was completely dissolved after the two of you enter an impromptu makeout sesh, but you can always redo it later, and he's certainly not complaining ;)

⊹₊⟡ sebastian

he’s secretly always wanted to try doing your eyeliner

(he’s definitely snuck one of your eyeliner pencils and tried it on himself. HOO boy he needs to do that again cause 🤭)

takes it very, very seriously

curses under his breath whenever he doesn’t get it exactly how he wants it

you have to keep reassuring him that it’s not that serious, he’s doing great

but he just mutters under his breath…

“my girl trusts me to do her makeup, ‘m not gonna fuck it up…”

he furrows his brow in concentration, but his touch is surprisingly gentle in contrast to his stern features

you blink a little and he startles

“did i hurt you, babe?” he asks, dropping the pencil immediately

“no,” you giggle, ushering his hand back over. “i just blinked. keep going. you’re surprisingly good at this.”

“surprisingly?” he raises an eyebrow with a tiny teasing smirk before returning his attention to your face, adding a few finishing touches before releasing you to appraise his masterpiece

you happily praise his work, wrapping your arms around him. your hands decided that it was not eyeliner day, so you appreciated his hard work taking over for you

he laughs softly, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “i like the way you do it better.”

⊹₊⟡ alex

so. many. QUESTIONS

this man is using 1000% of his brainpower committing each and every product to memory (so he knows how to spoil you hehehhe)

“what’s that spiky stick?” he asks, eyes slightly fearful. “why the hell are you putting it in your eye??”

you have to bite your cheek to keep from laughing as you brush the wand through your lashes. “it’s called mascara, and it makes your eyelashes pop. wanna try some?”

“nah, don’t get that anywhere near me.” he admires your eyes in the mirror, watching you work your magic. “damn, i love how it makes you look, though.”

you flutter your eyelashes teasingly, making eye contact through the mirror before rooting through your makeup bag once more

“hmm, wanna pick my next step?” you ask, allowing him to peer into the abyss of assorted tubes and bottles

“jeez, no pressure, huh? let’s see, we already used this thingy… that thing looks WAY too red… is this supposed to go… on your face?…” he says under his breath, picking up various products with wonder

you simply watch with amusement before he finally settles on a pot of pink blush. “this looks like it suits you.”

sighing, you hand him an oversized brush with a smile. “do your worst.”

he raises his eyebrows, opening the blush with a cockiness like he’s done this a million times. “you really think i’d do that to my lady?”

you simply shrug as he wields the brush uncharacteristically carefully, cupping your face

you can see the cogs in his head turning as he decides where to brush it on

after a few moments, he leans back to look at his work, brightening when he does. “heey, check it out!” he spins you around to face the mirror, hand resting affectionately on your waist. his work is a littttle splotchy, but it’s placed perfectly naturally on your face, almost like—

“how did you make it look like i’m actually blushing?” you ask, turning to him with wonder

he gives you a knowing smirk, gently tilting your head upwards so that he has your full attention. “first, i know my girl’s face like the back of my hand. if i could get it tattooed, i would.”

he then brushes his thumb over your cheek, which suddenly feels very, very hot.

“second? i think you actually are.”

thank you so much for reading! requests are always open~ ♡

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Been thinking about this for a while, but how about a scenario where reader is a muggle-born from a wealthy family who care much about their public perception. They ask her to bring Sebastian over for dinner because they wanted to meet the guy she keeps mentioning in her letters (she may not say it outright but they get the idea they’re dating) only to find out that he is in fact, poor, an orphan, and potentially not to the gentlemanly standard they expected for their daughter. (he tried this time to act good. He swears) How this ends can go one of many ways.

I don’t know if this is too complicated or fully formed as an idea but I think the drama could be fun

Enough | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

THANK YOU FOR THE ASK, ANON. I've never written anything quite like this but AH the drama was chef's kiss! I hope you love it <3

Words: ~10,400

Tags: Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Drama, Fluff, Romance

The morning started the way most mornings did—early. The Great Hall was awash with the usual clatter of silverware and the soft hum of conversation, students huddling over their breakfasts, discussing the latest Quidditch scores, impending exams, or whatever gossip had surfaced overnight. You had been sipping on tea, a half-buttered slice of toast on your plate as you flipped absentmindedly through a letter from home, the familiar script of your mother’s handwriting blurring before your eyes.

That is, until you hit the second paragraph.

You blinked. Once. Twice. And then you reread it, hoping you had misunderstood.

"We were intrigued by this young man you’ve been spending time with, darling. You’ve mentioned him in nearly every letter for months now, and it sounds like he’s been quite an influence on you. Your father and I agree it’s high time we meet him properly—this Sebastian fellow. What a charming name! Please invite him to dinner over Easter holiday. We’re so looking forward to putting a face to the name and getting to know the young man you’re so fond of."

Your heart stopped. Your stomach lurched.

Sebastian.

You’d written about him often, sure. He was your best friend, wasn’t he? Or, at least, that’s what you told yourself to avoid admitting the truth. And yes, you’d spoken of him in glowing terms—how could you not? But your parents had interpreted it all so horribly wrong.

Courting? Meeting him? Easter dinner?

The idea of parading Sebastian in front of your parents, of them scrutinizing him, made your hands tremble. Not because you thought poorly of him—Merlin, no. You thought the world of him, had thought the world of him since the fifth year. It was your parents. Their expectations. Their... standards.

You could hear their voices already: "He doesn’t come from a respectable family. What are his prospects? What on earth does he think he could offer you?"

The clatter of a fork on the floor startled you back to the present. You hastily folded the letter and shoved it into your bag, breathing deeply as you tried to collect yourself. Panic simmered just beneath the surface, threatening to boil over.

You glanced across the Hall to the Slytherin table, where Sebastian sat, as he often did, leaning back with an infuriating sort of confidence that only he could pull off. He was laughing at something Garreth Weasley said, his grin sharp, his dark hair a mess that somehow still suited him perfectly. You felt your chest tighten, both with fondness and sheer, unbridled terror.

You were in love with him, of course, but that hardly mattered now. You and Sebastian weren’t courting. You weren’t even close to broaching that topic. He had no idea how you felt, and you certainly weren’t about to admit it under these circumstances.

And yet, the prospect of defying your parents—ignoring their request—felt equally impossible. Their disapproval carried a weight you’d been trying to outrun your entire life, and the idea of disappointing them made your stomach churn.

You were trapped. Caught between an impossible expectation and a boy who didn’t even know he held your heart. And now, you had to somehow tell him about this invitation—a dinner he’d have no real reason to accept.

You made your way over to the Slytherin table, your palms sweaty as you clenched the strap of your bag. Sebastian caught sight of you before you even reached him, his grin widening as he straightened in his seat. His brown eyes narrowed on you—your nerves must have been written all over your face.

“What’s got you looking like that?” he asked, scooting over to make room for you as if he expected you to sit. He took a bite of his toast, completely at ease, while you hovered awkwardly beside him.

“I need to talk to you,” you blurted, your voice a little too high-pitched for your liking. “Alone.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, but didn’t push. “Alright.” He stood, brushing crumbs from his hands, and slung his bag over one shoulder before nodding toward the doors. "Ladies first."

The two of you walked out of the Great Hall in silence, the weight of your impending confession settling heavily in your chest. Sebastian matched your pace, his usual confidence softened by curiosity as he shot occasional glances your way.

Once you reached the empty corridor just outside, you stopped, turning to face him. He leaned casually against the stone wall, his arms crossed, waiting for you to speak.

“Well?” he prompted, his tone light. “What’s this about?"

You inhaled sharply, clutching the strap of your bag as if it might ground you. “I got a letter from my parents this morning.”

“Ah,” he said knowingly, his smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Let me guess—another lecture about how you’re tarnishing the family name by being at Hogwarts instead of some fancy Muggle school?”

You frowned. “No, not this time. This is... different.”

That seemed to catch his attention. His smirk faded, replaced by a slight furrow of concern. “Alright, what’s it this time?”

You hesitated, the words sticking in your throat. How were you supposed to explain this? It felt ridiculous, mortifying, and yet you couldn’t avoid it. You had to tell him.

“They...” You exhaled shakily. “They want to meet you.”

Sebastian blinked. “Me?”

“Yes.” You looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “They think we’re... courting.”

For a moment, there was only silence. You risked a glance at him and found him staring at you, his mouth slightly open as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard you correctly.

“They what?” he finally managed, his voice rising just slightly.

“They think we’re courting!” you repeated, your face burning. “I didn’t say we were! I just... I mentioned you in my letters—your name might’ve come up a few times—and apparently, they got the wrong idea.”

Sebastian stared at you for another second before his lips twitched. Then, to your horror, he burst out laughing.

“This isn’t funny!” you hissed, glaring at him. “Sebastian, they’ve invited you to dinner over Easter holiday. They want to meet you, and they’re going to expect you to—” You cut yourself off, your heart pounding as you tried to gather your thoughts. “They’ll expect you to act a certain way, to be someone you’re not.”

“Why? Would they think I’m not up to snuff for their perfect daughter?” he asked, his grin still infuriatingly wide. “You make me sound like some street rat.”

“Because to them, you might as well be!” you snapped, then immediately regretted your words. “I didn’t mean it like that,” you said quickly, your voice softening. “It’s just... they’re very particular. They have high standards, and they’ll be looking for reasons to disapprove of you.”

Sebastian’s grin faltered, his expression hardening just a fraction. “So, what? You don’t want me to go?”

“It's not that," you insisted, shaking your head. "I just… I don’t want to put you in that position.

He studied you for a moment, his gaze thoughtful. Then, to your surprise, he shrugged. “Alright.”

Your eyes widened. “Alright what?”

“I’ll go,” he said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Sebastian, you don’t understand,” you said desperately. “This isn’t some casual dinner. They’ll judge everything about you—your clothes, your manners, your background. And if they don’t think you’re good enough—”

“They’ll what? Disown you?” He smirked, though his tone was softer than usual. “Come on, I’ve faced cursed tombs and Dark wizards. I think I can handle a couple of uptight Muggles.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding. He wasn’t taking this seriously at all—or maybe he was, in his own strange way.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” you said weakly.

“Well, lucky for you, I do,” he said, his confidence unwavering. “Tell your parents I’ll be there. And don’t worry—I’ll even wear my best shirt.”

You sighed, and Sebastian opened his mouth to say something else, probably another snarky remark, but you grabbed his wrist and tugged him along before he could. “Come on. We're going to the library."

He resisted slightly, his boots scuffing against the stone floor as he dragged his feet. “The library? Now? I wasn’t even finished with breakfast!”

“You’ll survive,” you shot back, glancing over your shoulder to see him smirking again.

“I don’t know,” he drawled, letting you lead him anyway. “I was in the middle of a very important debate with Garreth about whether treacle tart or cauldron cakes are the superior dessert.”

You huffed, ignoring him as you hurried down the stairs, taking two at a time. The sooner you found Ominis, the sooner you could start sorting out the absolute mess that was your life.

“Why the library?” Sebastian asked after a moment, though he didn’t sound all that curious. He was just enjoying making you squirm. “If this is about your parents, shouldn’t you be writing them a letter to tell them how incredibly lucky they are to have me gracing their dinner table?”

You ignored that, your face burning. “We need Ominis.”

“Of course we do,” Sebastian said dryly. “Can’t have a proper crisis without Ominis.”

You rolled your eyes and pushed open the library doors. The room was mostly empty this early in the morning, the usual quiet amplified by the faint rustle of pages turning in the far corner. Ominis was easy to spot—or rather, his familiar posture was. He was seated at his usual table near the enchanted globe, his wand resting lightly in his hand as he read.

“Ominis,” you called softly, leading Sebastian toward him. “We need your help.”

The blonde lifted his head at the sound of your voice, his expression calm but curious. “And good morning to you, too,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “What sort of trouble are we in this time?”

Sebastian dropped into the chair across from him, looking far too relaxed for someone about to be dragged into a week of preparations. “Her parents think we’re courting,” he said bluntly, leaning back in his chair with a smirk.

Ominis’ brow furrowed. “They what?”

“They think we’re courting,” you repeated, sitting beside him and burying your face in your hands. “And they’ve invited him to dinner to... meet him.”

Ominis turned his attention to Sebastian, who looked far too relaxed given the situation. “And you agreed to this? Willingly?”

Sebastian shrugged, smirking. “What can I say? I like a challenge.”

“And here I thought I’d be spending my week in peace,” Ominis muttered. “Fine. I’ll help you prepare. But don’t expect miracles.”

As expected, the days that followed were, quite frankly, exhausting. Between classes, Quidditch practice, and your usual routines, you and Ominis dedicated every spare moment to preparing Sebastian for the upcoming dinner.

It started with the basics. Ominis took the lead on etiquette lessons, drilling Sebastian on everything from proper table manners to the art of polite conversation. He even went as far as to mimic the kind of snide remarks Sebastian might encounter, forcing him to practice responding without sarcasm—a monumental task, to say the least.

“Let’s try again,” Ominis said one evening in the Undercroft, his tone patient but firm. “I’ll be her father, and you’ll be... well, you. He asks, ‘What are your intentions with my daughter?’ Go.”

Sebastian groaned, leaning back in his chair and running a hand through his hair. “We’ve done this a hundred times, Ominis.”

“And we’ll do it a hundred more if that’s what it takes,” Ominis replied sharply, tapping his wand against his palm. “Now, try again.”

Meanwhile, you took charge of teaching him about Muggle traditions and customs, including the subtle differences he might not have noticed otherwise. You explained everything from the layout of a formal dinner to the kind of small talk he could expect. It was tedious work, but Sebastian humored you, though he often did so with a grin that suggested he found the whole ordeal amusing.

The real challenge came when Ominis insisted on taking Sebastian to Hogsmeade to purchase a proper suit.

“This is ridiculous,” Sebastian grumbled as Ominis guided him through racks of tailored jackets and waistcoats. “I already have clothes.”

“Your duelling robes aren’t enough,” Ominis replied, his tone brooking no argument. “You need to look the part. Now hold still.”

You stood nearby, hiding a smile as Ominis measured Sebastian with his wand, his expression the epitome of focus. Despite Sebastian’s complaints, the results were worth it. When he stepped out of the fitting room in a sleek black suit with a crisp white shirt, you were momentarily stunned.

“Well?” he asked, spreading his arms and spinning once for effect. “Do I pass inspection?”

You cleared your throat, trying to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks. “You’ll do.”

Ominis smirked knowingly. “You look presentable. Let’s hope your behavior matches.”

By the end of the week, Sebastian had begrudgingly mastered the basics. He could navigate a formal dinner, hold polite conversation, and even manage a few compliments without sounding insincere. Whether or not it would be enough to win over your parents remained to be seen, but for now, it was the best you could hope for.

On the evening of the dinner, you stood in your dormitory, staring at your reflection in the mirror with growing unease. Your usual confidence felt oddly absent as you adjusted the neckline of your dress; a light blue gown from Gladrags, soft and elegant, flowing like water down to your ankles, the color reminiscent of a clear spring sky.

Taking a deep breath, you smoothed your hands down the front of your skirt, grabbed your shawl, and headed out. The castle felt oddly quiet as you made your way to the appointed meeting place near the Floo. 5:30 sharp. You were certain you’d be the first to arrive—Sebastian had a habit of being fashionably late, after all—but as you turned the corner, you stopped short.

He was already there.

He stood near the fireplace, his hands stuffed into his pockets, his dark hair neatly combed for once. He wore the suit Ominis had picked out for him—black with a crisp white shirt—and his tie, much to your surprise, was light blue, perfectly matching your gown. The sight of it made your breath hitch.

For a moment, you just stared, taking in the way the tailored jacket fit him, the sharp cut of his shoulders, the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot. He looked... different. Polished. But there was still something so unmistakably Sebastian about him, from the way his brow furrowed slightly in thought to the nervous energy in his movements.

...Nervous?

Sebastian Sallow, the boy who faced cursed tombs and duels with a smirk, who thrived in chaos and relished a challenge, was pacing slightly as he waited for you. His hands fidgeted with the edge of his jacket, and he glanced at the clock above the fireplace every few seconds.

The sight made your chest ache and your heart flutter all at once.

“You were early,” you said softly, stepping closer.

He turned at the sound of your voice, his brown eyes widening slightly as he took you in. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his gaze sweeping over your gown, your carefully chosen jewelry, and finally settling on your face.

“And you're right on time” he said finally, his voice quieter than usual. He cleared his throat, straightening his posture. “You look—” He stopped, his words catching. Then he smiled, the kind of smile that wasn’t teasing or cocky but genuine. “You look beautiful.”

You felt warmth rise to your cheeks, and you clasped your hands together to keep from fidgeting. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

He grinned at that, some of his usual confidence returning. “Well, if I’m going to face the gauntlet, I might as well dress the part.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, the soft crackle of the torches filling the silence. There was a weight to the air between you, a sense of anticipation that neither of you seemed quite willing to break.

Finally, Sebastian stepped closer, offering his arm. “Shall we?”

You hesitated for only a second before slipping your hand into the crook of his elbow. His warmth was steady beneath your fingertips, grounding you as the nerves in your chest threatened to bubble over.

“Let’s get this over with,” you said with a weak smile.

Sebastian smirked, though the slight tightness in his jaw told you he wasn’t as calm as he was pretending to be. “Don’t worry,” he said as he reached for the Floo powder. “I’ve got this.”

He grabbed an adequate amount, and with one last glance your way, Sebastian guided you both into the Floo.

The swirling green flames spat you out onto the gravel drive of your family’s manor, the grand estate standing tall against the backdrop of the darkening sky. The familiar sight made your stomach churn with nerves.

Sebastian let out a low whistle, glancing up at the imposing structure. “So, this is home, huh? Can’t say I’m surprised.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, half-defensive, half-curious.

He shrugged, his hands slipping casually into his pockets. “It suits you. Polished. Impressive. Maybe a little intimidating.”

You snorted softly. “Intimidating, really?”

“Absolutely,” he said with a grin. “You should see yourself when you’re angry."

You rolled your eyes, but his playful banter did little to ease your nerves. The thought of what waited inside—your parents, their judgment, the impossible expectations—made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

Sebastian must have noticed, because his grin softened, and he stepped closer, his voice low. “Hey. You’ve got nothing to worry about. I’ll behave. Promise.”

You gave him a weak smile, wishing you could believe him. “You’ll need to do more than behave.”

“Then I’ll dazzle them,” he said with a wink, though the tightness in his jaw betrayed his own unease. “Shall we?”

For a moment, you hesitated, your heart pounding as you stared up at the towering manor. Then you took a deep breath, slipped your hand into the crook of his arm, and nodded. “Let’s go.”

Together, you climbed the stone steps to the front door, the sound of your heels echoing in the stillness. Sebastian reached for the brass knocker but paused, glancing at you one last time. “Ready?”

No. Not even close. But you nodded anyway.

The knocker fell with a heavy thud, and within seconds, the door swung open. A butler stood in the doorway, his expression carefully neutral as he looked the two of you over. “Welcome home, Miss,” he said with a slight bow before stepping aside. “Your parents are expecting you in the drawing room.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, stepping inside with Sebastian at your side.

The manor was just as you remembered it—pristine and impossibly grand, every detail designed to impress. The faint hum of conversation drifted from the drawing room, mingling with the crackle of a fire. Your nerves tightened with each step, but Sebastian walked confidently beside you, his arm steady under your hand.

As you approached the drawing room door, your mother’s voice carried through, clear and sharp as she spoke to your father. “Do try to make a good impression, darling.”

You froze for a split second, glancing at Sebastian. He caught your eye, offering a small smile that was more reassuring than cocky this time.

With one last breath, you stepped into the room, the weight of the evening settling firmly on your shoulders.

This was it.

The drawing room was as stately as ever, bathed in the warm glow of a crystal chandelier and the flicker of firelight dancing across polished wood paneling. Your parents sat on the velvet settee near the hearth, the picture of poise and elegance. Your mother, ever the perfectionist, smoothed invisible creases from her gown as she glanced up. Your father, a tall man with a commanding presence, stood as you entered, his sharp eyes taking in the scene with quiet scrutiny.

“Darling,” your mother greeted, her tone light but laced with expectation. She rose gracefully, her gaze flickering to Sebastian. “And this must be Mr. Sallow.”

Sebastian straightened, his easy confidence slipping into something more formal as he stepped forward. He bowed his head slightly, his movements smooth and deliberate. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” he said, his voice steady and polite. "And please, call me Sebastian."

Your mother’s lips curved into a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “The pleasure is ours,” she said, her tone cool but courteous. “Do come in and sit.”

Sebastian glanced at you, waiting for you to move first. You gave him a slight nod, releasing his arm as you both crossed the room. The chairs arranged across from your parents suddenly felt much too far apart, but Sebastian didn’t hesitate. He sat with perfect posture, his hands resting loosely on his knees, his expression calm.

You took the seat beside him, wishing you could shrink into it. Your mother’s sharp gaze swept over Sebastian, taking in every detail of his appearance—his perfectly tailored suit, his neatly combed hair, the faintest hint of tension in his jaw.

She folded her hands in her lap, her poised smile never faltering. "So, Sebastian," she began, her tone deceptively pleasant. "Tell us. How did the two of you meet?"

Sebastian turned to you with an easy smile. "We met during Defense Against the Dark Arts," he said. "My fifth year at Hogwarts—her first. Professor Hecat paired us for a duel."

Your father arched a brow. "A duel?"

Sebastian’s smirk twitched at the corner of his lips. "Yes, sir. I was confident I’d win."

"And?" your mother prompted, her eyes glinting with curiosity.

Sebastian glanced at you, and though his expression was perfectly neutral, you caught the amusement dancing behind his eyes. "I lost," he admitted, the words coming smoothly, without a hint of shame. "Rather spectacularly, if I’m being honest."

Your mother’s lips pressed together, but she nodded as if accepting the explanation. "I see. And tell me, Sebastian, what do you do in your spare time?"

Sebastian exhaled lightly, as if considering his words carefully. "I enjoy dueling. I still train regularly—it keeps me sharp. I also read quite a bit, mostly historical accounts of magical warfare, defensive strategy, things of that nature."

"Interesting." Your mother tilted her head. “And tell us, Sebastian, where is your family from?”

You adjusted in your seat, hands smoothing over your dress in a futile attempt to steady yourself. This was exactly what you had expected—no lighthearted conversation, no genuine warmth, just the relentless, calculated prodding of your parents. Every question, though cloaked in civility, was a test. A careful dissection. They weren’t getting to know Sebastian; they were measuring him, scrutinizing every word, every movement, silently deciding whether he was worthy of the world they had so meticulously crafted.

Sebastian, to his credit, didn’t so much as flinch. His expression remained composed, though you didn’t miss the way his fingers curled slightly against his knee before relaxing again.

“I grew up in the Scottish Highlands, not far from Iverness,” he said smoothly. “My family lived there for generations.”

Your father leaned forward slightly, his expression still unreadable. “And what do your parents do?”

The air grew heavier. This was one question you’d been dreading, the one that no amount of preparation could soften. You risked a glance at Sebastian, your heart hammering in your chest.

“They were Professors, however my parents passed away when I was young,” Sebastian said, his voice steady. “It’s just my sister and I now."

There was a brief pause, the kind that stretched just long enough to be uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” your mother said at last, though the words felt hollow.

Sebastian inclined his head. “Thank you, ma’am.”

He was holding his own, but this wasn’t a conversation—it was an examination. And it was only going to get worse.

You could feel Sebastian’s gaze flick toward you, just for a moment, as if checking in. Making sure you were okay.

You weren’t.

Your father continued on, clearly not ready to let the conversation drift into safer waters. “And your sister?” he asked, his tone polite but probing. “What does she do?”

“Anne’s focus has been on her health in recent years,” Sebastian said carefully. “She’s unwell.”

The words hung in the air for a beat too long, the weight of them sinking into the polished wood and embroidered silk of the drawing room. You knew your parents well enough to recognize the flicker of calculation behind your father’s eyes, the way your mother’s fingers twitched as she reached for her teacup, as if trying to mask the direction of her thoughts.

No parents. An ill sister. No meaningful connections to high society.

To them, it meant one thing: nothing to offer.

You clenched your hands in your lap, nails pressing into your palms as you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral. It was maddening, sitting here while they dissected him like this, peeling him apart with careful, polite words, as they decided whether he was worth your time. As if he hadn’t already proven himself a hundred times over to you.

“Sebastian,” your mother said, breaking the brief silence, “our daughter speaks very highly of you. She’s mentioned your... intelligence and resourcefulness.”

Sebastian turned his gaze to your mother, his expression unreadable. He didn’t preen under the supposed compliment, nor did he flinch at the underlying weight of her words. Instead, he simply waited, letting her continue, as if he knew there was more to it.

Your mother took a delicate sip of her tea, the fine china barely making a sound as she set it back on the saucer. “I do hope she’s not exaggerating.”

Sebastian smiled—just a flicker of one, polite but unreadable. “I suppose that depends on what she’s said," he glanced at you briefly before continuing. “But if I’ve earned even half the praise she’s given me, I’d say I’m doing quite well.”

Your mother tilted her head, her smile tightening. “And what are your ambitions, Mr. Sallow? What do you hope to achieve?”

The question made your stomach tighten. They weren’t interested in him as a person. They were interested in whether he was worth investing in.

Sebastian, however, didn’t so much as blink. He exhaled softly, as if considering his words, then tilted his head slightly.

"I’ve always been drawn to subjects that require critical thinking—Defense Against the Dark Arts, for example," he said, his voice calm but deliberate. "My main considerations have been Cursebreaking or perhaps training to become an Auror."

Your father cleared his throat, leaning forward slightly in his chair. “Cursebreaking and… Auror?” His tone was polite but clipped, as though he was carefully parsing the unfamiliar terms. "What would such professions look like?"

“Yes, sir,” Sebastian replied carefully. “Cursebreaking involves uncovering and disarming magical traps, often tied to ancient artifacts or ruins. Akin to... archeology. And Aurors are... the magical equivalent of a detective, sir."

Your mother’s lips pressed into a thin line, her hands folding neatly in her lap. “Quite dangerous,” she said, her tone clipped as her sharp gaze flicked toward you for a moment before returning to Sebastian. “Do you find yourself drawn to danger, Mr. Sallow?”

“Not for its own sake, no,” he replied smoothly.

His response almost had you laughing—because if there was one thing Sebastian Sallow was drawn to, it was danger. You pressed your lips together tightly, trying to stifle the smile threatening to break through, but it was too late. Your amusement must have flickered across your face because your mother’s sharp eyes immediately snapped to you.

“And what, may I ask, is so amusing, darling?” she said, her tone as smooth as silk but edged with curiosity. Her gaze pinned you to your seat like a hawk spotting prey, and you froze, your mind scrambling for an excuse.

Sebastian’s gaze flicked to you, and for a brief second, you caught the faintest glimmer of a amusement in his eyes. But before you could respond, a knock at the drawing room door broke the tension.

The butler stepped inside, bowing slightly. “Dinner is served, everyone.”

Relief flooded through you so quickly you nearly sagged in your chair. Your mother nodded gracefully, rising from her seat with all the elegance of a queen. “Shall we?” she said, gesturing toward the dining room.

You wasted no time in standing, brushing down your dress as you avoided your mother’s lingering gaze. Sebastian rose smoothly beside you, his hand brushing against yours briefly as he offered his arm again. You hesitated for only a moment before taking it, his steady warmth grounding you as you followed your parents out of the room.

As you walked, you leaned in slightly, keeping your voice low. "It's unnerving how talented you are at lying."

Sebastian glanced at you, his expression unreadable but his lips twitching into the faintest smirk. “Who says I lied?"

You snorted softly. "You’d dive headfirst into a cursed tomb if someone dared you.”

He chuckled under his breath, his voice barely audible as he replied, “Not if it’s a boring tomb.”

You rolled your eyes, biting back a laugh as the two of you entered the dining room. It was grand, of course—your family didn’t do anything halfway. The long table was set with gleaming silverware and crystal glasses, a centerpiece of fresh flowers and candles casting a soft glow over the room.

Your father took his seat at the head of the table, your mother settling in beside him with a practiced grace. You and Sebastian were directed to the seats opposite them, the distance between you making the table feel even more intimidating.

The first course—a delicate arrangement of roasted quail and glazed vegetables—was placed before you, the table settling into a brief silence as your parents inspected the presentation with the same scrutiny they applied to everything else. You glanced at Sebastian, your heart sinking slightly as you noticed the slightest flicker of uncertainty in his movements.

He picked up a fork, pausing for just a moment too long as he seemed to second-guess whether it was the correct one. Unfortunately, it wasn’t. He began to cut into the dish with the smaller dessert fork, and while it wasn’t glaringly obvious, it was enough to catch your mother’s sharp eyes.

“Not quite that one, Sebastian,” she said, her voice saccharine sweet but laced with condescension. “The proper fork for the main course is the one on your left.”

Sebastian froze for the briefest moment before smoothly setting the fork down and picking up the correct one. “Thank you for the clarification,” he said evenly.

Your mother smiled thinly, her eyes gleaming with something that made your stomach turn. “It can be so difficult to keep track of these things when one isn’t accustomed to formal settings.”

You stiffened, your grip on your own fork tightening as a surge of indignation rose in your chest. You wanted to say something, to defend him, but before you could, Sebastian beat you to it.

“Quite right,” he said, his tone still calm but now carrying a subtle edge. “It’s not a habit I’ve had the opportunity to form. I suppose that’s what makes learning new things so valuable.”

Your mother’s lips twitched, as though she couldn’t decide whether to be irritated or impressed by his response. “Indeed,” she said finally, her tone cool.

The meal carried on in uneasy silence, each bite weighed down by the lingering tension that clung to the air like a storm waiting to break. The clink of silverware against porcelain was the only sound, punctuating the unspoken challenge that had passed between Sebastian and your parents. Though the conversation had momentarily stalled, the scrutiny had not. It lingered, sharp and assessing, filling every quiet second with a pressure that made it harder to swallow.

Sebastian remained composed, his expression carefully neutral, but you could feel the way his fingers occasionally curled around the stem of his glass, the subtle flick of his gaze toward you—a silent check-in, a quiet assurance.

But it wasn’t him they turned their focus to next.

“Darling,” your mother began, setting down her fork with an air of practiced grace, “how are your studies progressing this term? I trust you’re excelling?”

You swallowed, already feeling the familiar prickle of anxiety creeping up your spine. “They’re going well, Mother,” you said carefully. “I’ve been—”

“Well?” she interrupted, arching a perfectly sculpted brow. “Is that the best you can say? I sent a letter to Professor Garlick who indicated to me that you've been struggling in Herbology. I’m sure you could apply yourself more diligently.”

You clenched your jaw, your grip tightening on your knife. “It’s not my strongest subject, but I’m doing my best.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, a clear sign that your answer wasn’t satisfactory. “I see,” she said coolly. “And what about that... brutish sport you insist on playing? What’s it called again? Quilt... ditch?”

“Quidditch,” you corrected quietly.

“Yes, that,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I fail to see how spending your time chasing after a ball does anything to further your education.”

Your father chimed in, his tone gruff but no less pointed. “I suppose it’s her way of rebelling.”

You focused intently on cutting your food, willing yourself to remain calm. This wasn’t new; you’d endured countless dinners like this before. But tonight, with Sebastian sitting beside you, the sting of their words felt sharper.

Sebastian, to his credit, didn’t outwardly react at all. You were impressed by his restraint. His eyes stayed fixed on his plate, though you knew him well enough to see the occasional twitch of his jaw, the subtle shift in his posture.

Your mother’s next comment was the tipping point.

“And another thing, darling,” your mother said, her tone saccharine and laced with something sharp. “I couldn’t help but notice you’ve put on a bit of weight since the summer. I do hope you haven’t been neglecting your studies in favor of… indulgences.”

The words sliced through the air like a knife, precise and deliberate, meant to wound in a way that could be brushed off as concern.

Your stomach twisted, heat creeping up your neck as every childhood insecurity came rushing back all at once. You knew better than to react—she wanted a reaction—but the sting of it lodged deep in your chest anyway.

You swallowed, unsure if you even wanted to look at Sebastian, afraid of what you might see—awkwardness, pity, maybe even silent agreement.

But when you did glance at him, what you found wasn’t hesitation.

It was fury.

Not loud, not dramatic, but cold—sharp enough to cut.

Sebastian’s hand had stilled around his fork, his knuckles just barely white with the force of his grip. His jaw was tight, his brown eyes dark with something unreadable as he stared at your mother.

When he finally set his fork down, it was deliberate, the soft clink against the plate somehow louder than any shouting could have been.

“With all due respect, ma’am,” he said, his voice deceptively calm, "your daughter is one of the most capable, brilliant, and resilient people I have ever known. And if she carries any unnecessary weight, it’s the burden of expectations placed on her by others.”

The room fell silent, your parents frozen mid-bite as they turned to look at him. You felt your heart leap into your throat, a mix of shock and gratitude and anxiety rendering you momentarily speechless.

“I understand you have high standards,” Sebastian continued, his tone polite but firm, “but I can assure you that whatever expectations you’ve set, she’s already surpassed them.”

Your mother’s expression barely flickered, but you knew her well enough to sense the barely concealed offense in the stiffening of her posture. “How very passionate of you, Mr. Sallow,” she said, setting down her fork with quiet precision. “I suppose you believe you know her better than her own family does?”

Sebastian didn’t so much as blink. “I believe I see her clearly,” he said. “Which is more than I can say for most.”

It was a direct hit. You could see it in the way your mother’s shoulders tensed, in the way your father exhaled slowly, setting his silverware down with a pointed clink.

Your father leaned back, fixing Sebastian with a cold, assessing look. “It is quite bold to assume you have any right to comment on such personal matter," your father said, his tone sharp, “Perhaps you’d care to elaborate further on what exactly your role is in her life?”

The shift in their focus was immediate and ruthless, their pointed gazes turning back to Sebastian like predators zeroing in on prey.

"I’m simply someone who sees her for who she is, not who she’s expected to be.” Sebastian replied, a flicker of something dangerously close to amusement crossing his face. “And I have to say, sir, that seems to be a rare thing in this house.”

The air turned brittle, thick with unspoken tension.

Your father’s fingers tapped once against the table, his expression cool but unreadable. Your mother inhaled slowly, exhaling through her nose as she reached for her wine glass, taking a measured sip.

You braced yourself.

"How very poetic," your father finally said, tone devoid of any real warmth. “And yet, poetry has never paid the bills, nor built anything of lasting worth."

Sebastian’s expression remained calm, though you could see the tension building in his jaw.

“With all due respect, sir,” he said smoothly, “neither has cruelty.”

Your mother’s grip on her wine glass tightened ever so slightly. Your father’s expression remained impassive, but the temperature in the room dropped like a sudden frost. The moment stretched taut, every unspoken rule of decorum cracking under the weight of Sebastian’s words.

“Clever,” your father mused, his tone devoid of amusement. “But clever words don’t change the reality of things, Sebastian. You may think you understand our daughter, but understanding is hardly the same as providing for her.”

Your mother hummed in agreement, tilting her head as she studied Sebastian like he was an unfortunate stain on her pristine tablecloth. “Yes, and you do come from rather humble beginnings,” she said smoothly, reaching for her wine. “It's tragic, truly. No parents. A sick sister. I can only imagine how difficult it must have been for you, growing up without proper guidance.”

Sebastian didn’t react, but you saw the barely perceptible flex of his fingers where they rested against the table. His posture remained relaxed—perhaps too relaxed—but there was a sharpness in his eyes, a quiet fury coiling beneath the surface.

“I imagine it taught me resilience,” he said evenly. “Self-sufficiency. Things I suspect not everyone in this room has had the opportunity to learn.”

Your mother’s lips twitched, something cold flickering in her expression while your father leaned forward slightly, hands threading together.

“You speak boldly for a man with nothing to offer," he said, his tone deceptively mild. "No wealth. No status. No respectable lineage. And yet, you seem to believe you deserve our daughter. How naïve.”

You clenched your fists beneath the table, your stomach twisting with anger.

Sebastian tilted his head, and though his expression remained perfectly polite, something flickered behind his gaze—something sharp, knowing. “And you speak as though she needs something from me,” he said smoothly. “As though she isn’t already more than capable of carving her own path.” He let the words settle before adding, “She doesn’t need anyone to provide for her, least of all me. But I imagine what she does need is support. Respect.” He smiled, a slow, deliberate thing. “I have no issue giving her both. I can’t say the same for others.”

The jab landed. You saw it in the way your father’s mouth pressed into a thin line, in the way your mother’s fingers twitched slightly before she masked it with a sip of wine. Her gaze flickered toward you, and in that moment, you saw it—annoyance, disappointment, maybe even frustration that you had allowed someone like him into this house. Into your life.

Your father recovered first. He inhaled slowly, his voice quiet, cold. “Let me explain something to you,” he said, his tone shifting from condescension to something far sharper. “This—” he gestured vaguely between you and Sebastian, “—is temporary. She’ll tire of whatever… fantasy you’ve spun for her soon enough.”

Your heart clenched. You opened your mouth, but before you could even form a response, Sebastian did.

He smiled. Not a soft smile. Not a kind one.

A sharp, knowing smirk. “Funny,” he said, tilting his head, “I was just about to say the same thing about your influence over her.”

Your mother inhaled sharply. Your father’s expression darkened. “You insolent scum,” he sneered, the veneer of civility finally cracking. “Do you honestly believe you can stand there and challenge me? In my home?” He leaned forward, his eyes cold, voice laced with something cruel. “You are nothing. A nobody. A street rat with no family, no future. Do you think some clever words and a polished suit change that?”

Your mother sighed, setting down her wine glass with an air of exhausted patience. “It’s pathetic, really,” she murmured, eyes sliding over Sebastian with a look of detached pity. “You must think yourself so noble, playing protector. So righteous.” Her lips curved into something resembling a smile, but there was nothing kind about it. “But it doesn’t change what you are. A boy who clawed his way out of the dirt, only to find himself desperately reaching for something beyond his station.”

Sebastian’s shoulders stiffened, his fingers curling subtly against the edge of the table. His expression didn’t waver—his mask of practiced ease was still firmly in place—but something about him changed.

Your mother took another slow sip of her wine, setting the glass down with a soft clink before turning her attention to you. “I trust this little performance has run its course?” she asked lightly. “Or shall we continue entertaining the delusion that this—” she gestured at Sebastian with a dismissive flick of her fingers, “—is anything more than a childish infatuation?”

The words hung in the air, sharp and gleaming, waiting to cut.

Your mother’s gaze was expectant, coldly patient, as if she were merely waiting for you to confirm what she already believed—that this was just another phase, another mistake she would soon correct. Your father, too, sat with the quiet confidence of a man who had never once considered that he wouldn’t be obeyed. That you wouldn’t bend to their will.

You looked at Sebastian.

The amusement that had once danced behind his eyes was gone. The sharp, confident smirk had faded. And for the first time that night, you saw it.

Hurt.

It was gone as soon as it came, so fleeting you might have missed it if you weren’t looking. But you were looking.

A sick sort of guilt coiled in your stomach, pressing against your ribs. Because Sebastian didn’t have to be here. He hadn’t asked for this. You had invited him—not because you wanted him subjected to your parents’ scrutiny, not because you thought he owed you anything, but because you had been too afraid to defy them. Too afraid to tell them no.

You had brought him into this house, sat him at this table, knowing exactly how it would go. Knowing exactly how they would look at him, dissect him, tear him down with a thousand polished, cutting words.

And yet... and yet he had fought. Not just for himself, but for you. For your dignity, your choices, your right to be more than just a perfectly groomed extension of them.

He had sat at this table, met their every challenge, endured every cutting remark. He had taken the blows meant for you, over and over, without hesitation.

Because that’s who he was.

And that’s why you loved him. Why you always had.

You inhaled slowly, then with careful, deliberate movements, you pushed your chair back. The legs scraped against the polished floor, slicing through the silence like a blade.

Your mother’s expression flickered, just slightly—her perfectly trained poise faltering for the briefest second. Your father’s gaze sharpened.

You stood.

Sebastian's head turned toward you, something wary in his expression. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, just waited. Because despite everything, despite all the words that had been thrown between them, this moment wasn’t his.

It was yours.

You lifted your chin, meeting your mother’s gaze first. “Enough.”

A single word. Final. Absolute.

Your father scoffed. “Sit down.”

“No.” You turned to face him fully, voice unwavering. “You don’t get to speak to him that way. Not anymore. Not ever again.”

Your mother let out a breathy laugh, reaching for her wine. “Darling—”

“I love him.”

The words left your lips before you could second-guess them.

Your mother froze, her glass hovering just above the table. Your father’s expression turned to stone, his mouth pressing into a thin line. But it was Sebastian’s reaction that mattered most.

He went completely still.

You turned to look at him fully now, heart pounding, searching his face, because you’d never said it before. Not out loud.

But it was the truth.

And for the first time, you weren’t afraid of it.

“I love him,” you repeated, each syllable firm, unshaken. “And I won’t, for one more second, listen to your condescension, your cruelty, your endless judgment, not towards him.”

Your father scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re being ridiculous.”

You snapped your attention back to him. “No, I’m done being ridiculous,” you said, voice firm. “I’m done playing this game. Done pretending that what you want for me is what I want.” You exhaled, steadying yourself. “I just won’t sit here and pretend that what you’re doing isn’t vile. I won’t sit at this bloody table and let you look down on someone who is worth ten of any society man you’d rather have me with. And I’m done letting you dictate my life.”

Silence.

Then your mother’s voice, quiet but cutting. “You would choose him over your family?”

Your throat tightened.

“If you won't accept my choice, then yes. I would. And I will.”

The finality of it rang through the room.

Your mother’s lips pressed together, her shoulders going rigid. Your father simply let out a slow breath through his nose.

And Sebastian.

Sebastian, who had spent the evening enduring the worst of them, who had sat through every cruel, veiled insult and outright attack, who had stood his ground even when it hurt—

Sebastian looked at you like you were something impossible.

Like you had just rewritten the laws of the universe before his very eyes.

Like he had braced himself for battle and, instead, you had stepped in front of him and ended the war with nothing but your voice.

Your father made a low sound, something between exasperation and disgust. “You’re making a mistake.”

You exhaled slowly. “Then it’s mine to make.”

He shook his head, his expression unreadable. “You’ll regret this.”

You didn’t even hesitate. “No. I won’t.”

You lifted your chin, offering Sebastian your hand. “Let’s go,” you said, voice steady, unwavering.

Sebastian didn’t move for a heartbeat. His fingers twitched at his side, his gaze flicking from your hand to your face, searching—really searching—for any sign of hesitation, of regret.

He found none.

And that was when he took your hand.

Warm. Solid.

Your mother let out a quiet breath through her nose, something unreadable passing over her face before she schooled her features back into perfect neutrality. Your father, however, wasn’t as composed.

“I will not be made a fool of in my own home,” he said sharply, his voice carrying an edge of finality, of command. “You walk out that door, you do not walk back in.”

The weight of his words settled in the space between you, heavy and suffocating. A lifetime of expectations, of obligations, of control—all crumbling with a single choice.

Your mother folded her hands neatly in her lap, watching you with a cool, detached expression. “Well, darling?” she said, tilting her head. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

Sebastian stiffened beside you, like he was ready for you to turn around and stay. Like he was bracing himself for the inevitable.

But there was no decision to be made. Even if Sebastian didn't love you back, even if you weren't actually courting, even if he never felt the same, even if this all ended tomorrow, you wouldn’t regret standing here, choosing yourself for the first time in your life.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

And with that, you turned.

You didn’t wait for another word, another cruel remark, another attempt to claw you back into the cage they had built for you. You simply walked away.

Outside the manor, the gravel drive crunched beneath your feet, the only sound in the otherwise still night. You didn’t speak. Neither did Sebastian. The weight of the evening hung between you, thick and suffocating, stretching into the quiet as you made your way down the long path.

When you reached the gates, Sebastian finally let go, of your hand, stepping forward to unlatch them. The metal groaned slightly as it swung open, and you hesitated only briefly before stepping through, leaving your childhood behind with the soft click of the latch snapping shut behind you.

The Floo loomed in front of you, smelling of ash and magic, thick with the weight of old decisions and new ones yet to be made.

Sebastian stepped forward first, tossing a handful of Floo Powder before vanishing into the green.

You inhaled, steadying yourself. Then you followed.

The second your feet touched the cool stone floor of the castle, the weight of it all, of everything that had just happened, crashed into you.

It was sudden, overwhelming—like the entire evening had been held at bay by sheer force of will, and now, with no more battles to fight, no more words left to say, it all came rushing in at once.

Your breath hitched. Then another. Then another.

You were breaking.

The grief, the exhaustion, the anger—it clawed up your throat all at once, twisting into something ragged and uncontrollable. You gasped, pressing the heel of your hand against your chest, as if you could physically hold yourself together.

And then you were crying.

Sobbing, really.

Not the quiet, dignified tears of someone mourning something small, but the raw, wrecked kind.

It was too much. The fight, the way they had looked at him, the way they had looked at you. The finality of it all. The loss. Because that’s what this was, wasn’t it? Walking away meant you had lost something, even if you had never really wanted it in the first place.

But you had gained something too. You knew that.

And yet, it still hurt.

“I’m sorry,” you gasped, your voice barely more than a whisper, barely holding itself together. “I—I shouldn’t have taken you there. I shouldn’t have—” Your breath shuddered violently as you wrapped your arms around yourself, your body shaking. “I knew what they’d do. I knew. And I still—”

Sebastian moved before you could finish.

Warm hands found your shoulders, solid and grounding. “Hey,” he murmured, voice low, steady. “Look at me.”

You did.

His gaze wasn’t full of pity. Not anger. Not resentment.

Just… Sebastian.

Soft. Steady. There.

And that was worse somehow, because it made you sob harder.

“I just—I don’t know what I was thinking,” you choked out. “I just wanted to get through it, to—”

“To satisfy them,” Sebastian murmured.

You nodded, another sob breaking free. “And I did. For years, I did. But I can’t anymore.” You exhaled sharply. "And now, now I've lost them, and I know it was right but—"

“It still hurts,” Sebastian finished for you, his voice softer now. "They're still your parents."

You swallowed past the lump in your throat, your nod barely perceptible.

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything.

And then—

“...Do you really love me?”

His voice was quiet. Almost hoarse.

You stiffened, your breath catching. Slowly, you lifted your head, looking up at him.

Sebastian's expression was unreadable, his shoulders tense like he was bracing himself for the answer. His fingers flexed at his sides, but his eyes—his eyes were wide, dark, filled with something you couldn’t place.

You had never seen him like this.

Never seen him afraid. Not of a fight. Not of a curse. But of this.

Of you.

“Do you?” he asked again, softer this time. “Or was it just—was it just something you said to get them to stop?”

You blinked, your breath still shaky, your cheeks still wet. And yet, somehow, the weight in your chest lifted just slightly, just enough for you to see through the grief, the exhaustion, the fear.

And the truth was still there, waiting for you, steady and undeniable.

You reached for him, fingers trembling, pressing against his arm first—then his jaw, his cheek, the way you had always wanted to but hadn’t dared.

His breath stuttered.

“Yes,” you whispered. “I love you.”

Sebastian didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Didn’t blink.

He just stared at you, eyes wide, lips parted like he was trying to process the words—like he had heard them, understood them, but didn’t believe them.

“You—” His voice broke. He swallowed hard, shaking his head slightly. “You don’t have to say that just because—”

“I mean it, Sebastian.”

His whole body tensed.

“I didn’t say it for them. I didn’t say it to make a point. I didn’t say it to win.” Your voice was raw, stripped bare, nothing left to hide behind. “I said it because it’s true. It's been true for years."

Sebastian’s eyes flickered, something breaking apart behind them. His lips parted slightly, his breath uneven, and for a single, fragile moment, he looked lost.

And then he crashed into you, his arms wrapping around you with such force that it knocked the breath from your lungs. His grip was tight—almost desperate—like he had been waiting for this his entire life and still couldn’t believe it was real.

You barely had time to react before you were sinking into him, your fingers fisting into the back of his jacket, your face pressing into the warm, solid plane of his chest.

Then, his voice. Barely a whisper. Barely holding itself together.

"I love you, too."

You froze.

Sebastian only held you tighter.

His fingers curled into the fabric of your dress, gripping it like he needed something solid, something to keep him standing. His forehead pressed into your hair, and his breath was warm against your temple, coming in unsteady bursts, as if the words had taken everything out of him. Like they had been clawing their way out of him for years.

You turned your face deeper into his chest, squeezing your eyes shut as your arms wound tighter around him, your fingers pressing into the muscles of his back, warm, solid, real, yours.

Sebastian exhaled sharply, his whole body shaking. "You don’t—” His breath caught, like he couldn’t quite get the words out. “You don’t understand. I’ve wanted—I never—” He let out something between a laugh and a choked breath, his hands smoothing up your back, then gripping you tighter again, like he couldn’t decide if he should hold you gently or keep you locked against him forever.

“I thought—” He swallowed hard. “I never thought—" Another breath, another exhale, another shudder running through him.

"I never thought I was enough."

You pulled back just enough to see him, to look into his face, to make him see you. His eyes were wild with emotion, pupils blown wide, lips parted like he wanted to say more but didn’t know how. You reached up, cupping his jaw, thumbs tracing the sharp planes of his cheekbones.

“Then you’re an idiot,” you murmured teasingly, voice thick with emotion, “because you’ve always been enough.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. He searched your face, as if he was still trying to make sense of this, as if some part of him was waiting for you to take it back, to wake up from whatever dream this must have been.

But then—slowly, carefully—he let himself believe it.

And that was when he kissed you.

Slow, deep, desperate—in ways that only years of restraint could make it. In ways that made it feel inevitable, like the two of you had been pulled toward this moment by some unseen force long before either of you had the courage to acknowledge it.

Sebastian kissed you like he was starving for you, like he had been holding himself back for so long that now, given even the slightest permission, he couldn’t stop himself. His fingers splayed against your back, pressing you flush against him, as if the space between you was unbearable, as if he needed to feel you to believe this was real. His other hand slid up, cradling your face with a reverence that made your chest ache, his thumb sweeping over your cheekbone.

You melted into him, into the heat of him, into the way his lips moved against yours like he was memorizing you, like he needed to commit every touch, every sigh, every trembling breath to memory so he could keep it locked inside himself forever. He kissed you with years of unspoken words, years of buried longing, years of wanting but never allowing himself to have.

You weren’t sure which of you was trembling more.

And then, slowly, like he was dragging himself away from the very thing keeping him alive, Sebastian pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“Say it again,” he whispered, his voice wrecked, raw in ways you had never heard before.

Your fingers loosened their grip, moving up, tracing along his jaw, mapping out every curve, every freckle, every part of him that you had never allowed yourself to touch before.

“I love you, Sebastian.”

His throat bobbed, his grip on you tightening, a smile splitting his face in two.

“I love you, too,” he murmured, soft but steady. He turned his head, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple, his lips warm and reverent.

Something inside you—something that had been wound tight for years—unraveled.

You had spent so long living the life that had been laid out for you, bending beneath expectations that had never truly been yours. You had spent so long trying to be what they wanted, waiting, waiting, for the moment you would finally be free.

And now—standing here, wrapped in his arms, his heartbeat thrumming against your own—you realized that freedom had never been something waiting for you on the horizon.

It had been yours to take all along.

[whizzing-fizzbee]

Death By A Thousand Freckles

Sebastian Sallow x F!OC Rating: Explicit 18+ (smut, profanity); all characters are 18+ Tags: friends to lovers, mutual pining and sexual tension

Summary: Emilia Bell accidentally sees her best friend and teammate, Sebastian Sallow, clad in only a towel after quidditch practice. Now, all she can think about are all those damn freckles.

Notes: This is literally just a handful of drabbles I morphed into one story. Characters are 18-year-old seventh years. Emilia Bell is MC.

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

"If Imelda fell into a pit of dugbogs, I wouldn’t miss her,” Emilia Bell muttered to herself.

The cold rain had chilled her to the bone. Her quidditch robes clung to her skin and her hair was plastered to her face. Thick mud caked her shoes and splattered up her calves until it met her knees. She was the shining example of someone who was sure to catch pneumonia.

It’d been a particularly grueling quidditch practice that evening. The Slytherin versus Gryffindor match was a week away, and would be the last rivalry match of her Hogwarts career. The same could be said for Imelda Reyes, her team captain who was hell-bent on ending her seventh year with the quidditch cup. All their team had to do was beat Gryffindor, and then they’d have a spot in the championship match against Ravenclaw.

Imelda had become more maniacal than ever, scheduling five practices per week in rain or shine. Preventing a goblin rebellion had been more pleasant than this, Emilia decided.

Emilia sat on a bench in the locker room to tend to a particularly nasty scrape she’d received after a collision with one of her fellow Chasers. The impact had stripped her skin raw and she winced as she bandaged it, making a mental note to stop by Professor Sharp’s private potion cupboard before dinner.

The rest of the team trickled in and out of the locker room in a rush to get away from Imelda’s orders for the evening. Emilia took her time, savoring the peaceful silence that accompanied her to the shower without the interruption of her teammates.

The steam was intoxicating as she stepped inside, the hot water pelting her chilled skin until it adjusted to the stark difference in temperature. She closed her eyes and tried to force all thought to melt away, washing it down the drain with the remainder of her day.

She’d stay in there forever if she could, but Ominis Gaunt was counting on her for a study session in the Undercroft after practice. 

Still, she leaned against the wall, the cool tile chilling the skin of her back as she willed herself to relax. It’d be a lot easier said than done if it hadn’t been for her idiot of a best friend.

Emilia thought she was going to make it through one quidditch practice without incident, but on the final round of training drills, a spare bludger got loose and she spent the last 15 minutes of practice trying to reign it in. It, of course, had been Sebastian Sallow’s fault. It always was.

And per usual, Emilia took it upon herself to help him. After nearly three years, she still couldn’t help herself, even if it was his fault because he’d been too busy talking about some book he read to properly secure all the equipment.

So she was the one to watch as Sebastian lunged at the bludger, forcing it to the ground until the two of them managed to wrestle it into its crate, leaving Emilia muddy, wet and bruised. It certainly wasn’t the first time Sebastian Sallow’s actions had left her in such a state.

She sighed to herself, scrubbing away the dirt and grime as if it would also rinse her clean of the filthy thoughts that plagued her head. And, like usual, Sebastian was to blame for those too.

Of course, he didn’t know she’d suppressed the urge to tackle him into that mud and straddle him. He didn’t know that the chill of the rain wasn’t the only reason for the shivers that coursed down her back. He didn’t know her quidditch uniform wasn’t the only thing that was soaking wet.

He didn’t know she was hopelessly in love with him. No one did.

So when the sight of Sebastian covered in mud made their teammates flinch in disgust, Emilia leaned in closer. She helped him secure that stupid bludger and smirked. He thought it was because she was teasing him for his incompetence. He had no idea she was eyeing the way his wet uniform adhered to the skin of his toned torso. 

She had to exhale slowly, the heat of her body rising at no fault of the hot water and steam. But it was too late. Those shameful thoughts of Sebastian and his tight, drenched clothing were embedded, snaking into the deepest caverns of her brain.

Her hand immediately snapped to her core, two fingers sinking inside. She chewed at her bottom lip as they dipped deeper, pressing into the spongy spot of flesh that made her breath hitch. But it wasn’t quick enough. Her fingers were dissatisfactory compared to the fantasy that clung to her senses. 

She wanted Sebastian and all the features only he could provide; that mop of messy hair that she wanted nothing more than to pull; that arrogant smirk that she wanted pressed against her neck; those tiny freckles that she wanted to count, one-by-one, until she’d examined every inch of his skin. 

She was too impatient, too desperate and needy to prolong her fantasy. So instead her fingers swiped against her clit, pressing and pulling, begging for release.

Finally, her nerves complied, the familiar swell of tingling cresting within her until it broke, sending her cunt into a sharp shudder that made her whimper in an attempt to be discreet.

When it was over, she rested her head back against the wall, the water washing away her secret little sin, but not the dastardly thoughts of her best friend.

She sighed and finished her shower, the water faucet creaking to a halt before she wrapped a towel around herself. The scent of her vanilla soap lingered through the steam. The locker room was quiet, all of her teammates gone in search of dinner.

She exited the row of girls’ showers to the locker room, where her clothes were stashed away. With no one else around, she could dress comfortably rather than in the cramped confines of the damp showers.

Except she wasn’t alone. She froze at the sight of those familiar shoulders, broad and peppered in freckles that would outshine any constellation in the night skies. The temptation to reach out and touch them was suffocating. Like Emilia, he was wrapped in nothing but a towel, though he bore much more skin than her.

“Sebastian,” she breathed, praying her tone wasn’t betraying her.

He turned and smirked when his gaze fell on her. She stood, shivering in her towel, water still clinging to her skin in droplets with her wet hair slicked back.

“Didn’t realize anyone else was still here,” Sebastian said. She barely heard him. She was too focused on looking anywhere but the waistline where his towel hung tantalizingly low.

“Had to take some extra time in the shower,” she croaked as nonchalantly as her voice would allow. Sebastian raised an eyebrow at her and her cheeks flushed. “Because of all that mud, thanks to you,” she added quickly.

Sebastian laughed through his nose. “Right. Sorry about that.”

“No, you’re not.”

“You’re right, I’m not.” Sebastian frowned as he eyed the bandage on her forearm. “Was that from your collision with Jennings?”

“It’s fine,” Emilia said dismissively. “Just a shallow scrape.”

“He’s an idiot,” Sebastian muttered. He took a step closer to Emilia, reaching for her forearm to examine the bandages she had charmed to repel the shower water. “Keep a close eye on that,” Sebastian murmured. “Don’t want it to get infected.”

Emilia snorted. “Seb, I’ve suffered much, much worse,” she laughed softly. “Remember that Ashwinder in Cragcroftshire?”

“Just making sure,” Sebastian said simply, his hand maintaining its gentle grip on her wrist. His thumb rubbed gentle circles over her forearm as he searched her eyes, as if he was trying to confirm she was genuinely all right. It made Emilia shudder.

“I’m sure I’ll recover from a little collision,” she said as Sebastian released her arm.

“Yes, yes, I know, the hero of Hogwarts,” he sighed, his lips curving in a teasing smirk. 

He clearly hadn’t showered yet. There was a swipe of mud across his right cheek and his legs were covered in it. His messy hair was wet from the rain and his cheeks were red from the chilly air.

She had never been more attracted to him.

But as his gaze lingered on her, still clutching her towel for dear life, she wanted nothing more than to sink into the earth. She was too bare, too naked, too vulnerable. She was certain Sebastian didn’t see her in that way, anyway. Nearly three years of closeness, of sharing all their secrets, thoughts and fears, and he had never so much as held her hand.

But he also had told her he needed her – couldn’t live without her, as he so kindly put it one day after they’d had a particularly nasty disagreement. She was his rock, his glue, his beating heart. She had Sebastian Sallow in every way except the one she wanted.

“If you stick around, I’ll walk you back to the castle after I shower,” Sebastian said, his eyes still on her.

Stick around? Merlin. If she stuck around, she was certain she’d end up embarrassing herself. Fainting in a towel in the middle of the quidditch locker room in front of Sebastian would be worse than losing any duel or falling asleep during class.

Still, Emilia’s thoughts inched closer to that fine line, teetering toward those maddening images of all the things she and Sebastian could do while alone in that locker room. Two towels, tossed haphazardly on the floor; skin pressed into the tile walls, the grout lines leaving divots in their flesh; the sounds of their moans echoing off the walls, drowned out by the rain outside.

But she didn’t want to wait for him. She wanted to join him.

He was going to be the death of her. Her heart hammered inside her chest and her palms began to sweat. Her body was betraying her. She needed to get out of that locker room sooner than later.

“I’ve got to get back,” she said as steadily as she could manage. “I’m already late for a study session with Ominis. You know how he is about punctuality.”

Sebastian tutted. “Another time then.”

And then she watched those broad shoulders turn and retreat toward the boys’ showers, each freckle growing smaller and more out of reach.

What she didn’t know was that Sebastian had to commit a similar act of sin in the showers the moment he was out of sight.

---

Emilia spent two days obsessing over what Sebastian had meant.

“Another time then?”

Another time for what? Surely she had simply misconstrued the context of it all, especially considering Sebastian behaved completely normal after that. 

She chalked it up to a simple slip of the tongue. She went about her days, teasing and laughing with her best friend like she hadn’t had to touch herself to the thought of him in the shower. It wasn’t the first time she’d fantasized over him and it certainly wouldn’t be the last – not when amortentia was the topic of the day’s Potions class.

Emilia was relieved to be paired with Ominis, but glanced around the classroom nervously. Sebastian had been paired with Imelda.

Emilia smelled leather and cinnamon in her amortentia potion immediately; leather because of Sebastian’s favorite chair in the Slytherin Common Room, where he’d often sit and read before bed; cinnamon for the way he took his tea each morning – with more cinnamon than most people could stand.

“What do you smell?” Ominis asked her as they put the final touches on their potion.

She pursed her lips, unsure how to answer. If she declined, surely someone would deduce that the source of her favorite scent was in the classroom. If she answered honestly, Ominis would surely know who she was referring to.

“I smell… leather and citrus,” she half lied. “And just a touch of something sweet. Pear, I think.”

Ominis appeared deep in thought as he considered her words, and she was grateful he couldn’t see the way her cheeks were flushed.

“What do you smell?” she finally asked. 

“Honey and hay,” Ominis answered. Emilia smiled to herself. He had just described Poppy Sweeting.

“Hay, you say,” Emilia mused. “Like someone who might spend quite a bit of time around creatures.”

Ominis scowled at her implications. Emilia had spent months trying to coax him to admit his feelings for her petite Hufflepuff friend. But Ominis remained silent on the matter, though she was certain the pair would be a perfect match.

“Maybe you should spend a little more time hanging around the Beasts classroom,” Emilia suggested with a soft smile. “Since you enjoy the scent of honey and hay so much.”

“Maybe you should keep your mouth shut about this unless you want me to rethink my stance on Unforgivable Curses,” Ominous hummed. Emilia cracked her bubblegum in delight.

“Oi, what if all I smell is the quidditch pitch?” they overheard Imelda ask.

Emilia snorted. “How typical,” she muttered.

“Sallow here won’t tell me what he smells!” Imelda continued. “I reckon it’s something embarrassing like sweaty socks.”

“Why the fuck would I enjoy sweaty socks?” Sebastian retorted. Emilia shot him an amused glance, to which he rolled his eyes. She blew a bubble with her gum and shook her head before returning her attention to her own potion.

But instead of stirring her brew, her focus was whisked away by more provocative daydreams. What did Sebastian smell in his amortentia? Which lucky witch was the object of his desires? Did he fantasize over anyone the way Emilia thought of him? Did he long to count the freckles on someone else’s skin?

Sebastian had engaged in his fair share of after-hours activities with Hogwarts’ female population. But he and Emilia rarely discussed their romances, at least not with much earnesty. Emilia herself had only recently ended things with Amit Thakkar after deciding they were better off as friends. She didn’t dare tell anyone that, even when her affections were supposed to belong to someone else, Sebastian was always her final thought before she fell asleep each night.

She wondered what occurred in Sebastian’s fantasies. Had he ever pictured someone while in the shower, visions of slick skin pressed against skin? Perhaps he was more into public displays, sneaking sinful acts that were hidden in plain view of passerby? Was he more of the dominant type? Surely he was, Emilia decided. Sebastian loved to be in control, a perfect contrast to her desire to be pinned down and put in her place.

A sudden gurgling stole Emilia from her reverie. Her cheeks were hot and she was grateful for the distraction happening on the other side of the classroom.

“Garreth!” Ominis groaned at the familiar sight of Garreth Weasley’s cauldron boiling over. Its contents hissed as they spilled over the brim, splashing over the table and floor.

“Weasley!” Professor Sharp barked. “See me after class, once you’ve cleaned your mess up. Class dismissed.”

Emilia nodded to Ominis and scooped up her books to hurry from the classroom. She didn’t want anyone to see her flushed face or jittery state as she made a beeline to the Slytherin Common Room.

She also didn’t hear Ominis and Sebastian discussing their amortentia potions on the way out.

“What did you smell in yours?” Ominis asked his best friend curiously.

Sebastian’s eyes swept the corridor before he ran a hand through his hair. “Vanilla,” he answered. “Vanilla and bubblegum.”

---

“Ow, Sebastian, you stepped on my foot!” Emilia hissed.

“Whoops, sorry.”

“Sorry? I ought to hex you. You’ve got to be more careful!”

“Yes, mum.”

“Ew, don’t call me that.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Don’t call me that either.”

“Shh! Here they come.”

Emilia and Sebastian were crouched beneath the bleachers of the quidditch pitch, disillusionment charms cast as their eyes peeked through the wooden tiers. Somehow, the pair had drawn the short straw from Imelda and was ordered to spy on the Gryffindor team during practice.

Emilia noted that what they were doing could be considered cheating, to which Sebastian shrugged and Imelda threatened to burn her house down. Not to mention she owed Imelda one for the time her captain covered for her to keep her out of detention. Imelda had only done it so Emilia wouldn’t miss quidditch practice, but Emilia was indebted to her all the same.

“This is ridiculous,” Emilia groaned as she crawled to a spot where she could see the entire pitch while remaining out of view, her disillusionment charm falling. She sat and pulled her knees to her chest as she watched the Gryffindor Chasers toss a quaffle back and forth.

“Could be worse,” Sebastian shrugged as he sat next to her. He fished through his pockets before he brandished a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans. He offered the open container to Emilia, who shook her head and cracked her bubblegum in response.

They watched the Gryffindors start their training drills, the students darting patterns through the air on their broomsticks overhead.

“Think we can beat them?” Sebastian asked.

Emilia tilted her head to look at him pointedly. “I think we can demolish them,” she answered blankly. “They’re bigger than most of us, but we’re faster.”

“They’ll play physical, especially up top,” Sebastian murmured. “We’ll need to keep an eye on you. They’re bound to mark you with double-coverage.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Emilia mused. “I can handle my own.”

“Trust me, I know you can.” 

They fell quiet again, making mental notes as they watched Gryffindor’s tactics. Sebastian’s attention span quickly subsided, his gaze falling closer and closer to the ground until he had clearly become lost in thought. 

Emilia studied him from the corner of her eye. He was wearing a white button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up and his green tie loosely knotted around his neck. She wanted to grab that tie and pull him in closer. No one would see them. She could crawl into his lap, his hands inching beneath the hem of her skirt over her thighs as she kissed every fucking freckle on his face. As long as they remained quiet, no one would ever know.

She swallowed and forced her gaze to return to the Gryffindors zig-zagging above. 

“Think their Beaters will take a more offensive approach?” Emilia wondered. “If they remain back on defense, I doubt their Chasers will be quick enough to dodge all of us.”

Sebastian nodded in agreement. They watched as Garreth Weasley smacked a bludger through a goal hoop.

“Not to mention Weasley has the attention span of a niffler,” he added. Emilia smirked.

“That too,” she agreed.

“What’s this I hear about Weasley asking you to Hogsmeade, by the way?” Sebastian suddenly asked. Emilia’s head snapped to look at him, her eyes narrowing.

“How’d you hear about that?” she demanded.

“Ominis.”

Emilia hissed a sigh. “Traitor,” she muttered.

“What, you didn’t want me to know Weasley asked you out?”

“I couldn’t care less if you or anyone else knows,” Emilia said. “But it really isn’t anyone’s business. Especially because I turned him down anyway.”

“Why’d you say no?”

“Because I didn’t want to go out with him,” Emilia answered simply.

“You still getting over Thakkar?”

Emilia blinked. “What?” she asked, not bothering to mask her dumbfounded expression. “Amit and I broke up weeks ago.”

“Yeah, but… I mean, are you okay about it now? You’ve seemed alright but you aren’t exactly the type to ask for help,” Sebastian said.

“I’m fine, Seb,” Emilia assured. “It was never that serious with Amit to begin with.”

“Why’d you break up?”

Emilia stirred, unsure why Sebastian was suddenly peppering her with questions about her love life. It wasn’t that she had assumed he didn’t care, but romance wasn’t quite his preferred topic of discussion.

“I don’t know,” Emilia sighed. “Amit’s wonderful. Very kind and romantic, but I’m not sure any of that sickly sweet romance is for me.”

Sebastian blinked at her. “What woman doesn’t want a kind and romantic partner?” he asked, thoroughly confused. “I thought that was all you birds wanted.”

Emilia rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so daft. Sure, I like kindness and romance, but I also like a little assertiveness.” The admission made her cheeks grow rosy and she averted her gaze from him.

“Assertiveness?” Sebastian repeated, his box of candy forgotten beside him. Emilia could feel his eyes drilling into her profile, but she determinedly remained positively enthralled by Gryffindor’s training drills.

“Sebastian,” she warned with a huff.

“No, tell me,” Sebastian pushed. “What do you mean by that?”

Emilia finally dropped her gaze to meet his. Sunlight was peeking through the bleachers, the lines of light casting a spotlight on Sebastian’s freckles. Emilia hugged her knees closer to her chest while she stared at those freckles, as if they carried an explanation that wouldn’t leave her embarrassed beyond ruin. She knew Sebastian would never judge her, but she also didn’t want to reveal the nature of her desires.

After all, Sebastian was the one asserting himself in all her fantasies.

“It means exactly as it sounds,” Emilia said flatly. “Think about it. Amit is a wonderful person but he’s not exactly the type to take charge or take control.”

Sebastian leaned back against a wood post, his arms folded across his chest as the realization dawned on him. “So you like to be dominated,” he murmured.

Emilia fidgeted with the bandage on her arm. “Something like that,” she tried to say casually as she avoided her gaze again.

“Guess that shouldn’t surprise me,” Sebastian hummed.

“What? Why?” Emilia asked sharply, her mouth suddenly going dry as her eyes met his again.

Sebastian shrugged as a bludger whizzed nearby. “Because you’re a control freak in every other aspect of your life,” he replied. “You’re a goddamn hero, for Merlin’s sake. You’ve had the world on your shoulders. You dissect every person dumb enough to duel you. You get top marks in every class. Group projects make your hair curl because you’d rather do everything on your own.”

Emilia blinked. She certainly couldn’t deny any of that. Sebastian knew her better than anyone.

“You’re always in control, Em,” Sebastian continued. “So I guess it makes sense you’d prefer to… let go of some of that control in the bedroom.

“Sebastian!” Emilia hissed. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about her sexual preferences with the one person she wanted to indulge those desires. 

Sebastian chuckled. “It’s rather cute when you’re flustered,” he noted. “Not so in control now, are you?”

Emilia was certain he could hear her heartbeat slamming in her chest, despite the whoosh of broomsticks and batting of bludgers above them. He was right, though. She’d always been the epitome of composure. He was the only person who managed to make her lose her cool. And Merlin, was she hot.

“My sex life is none of your business,” she finally chided. 

“Oh, come on,” Sebastian laughed as he lifted his arms to rest them behind his head, his long legs stretching out. “We need to talk about something interesting while we pretend to give a damn about those Gryffindors.”

“Fine,” Emilia said simply. “What about you? I assume I already know the answer, but enlighten me anyway. Do you prefer to be in control or do you like your women to throw you around for a bit?”

Sebastian smirked, which only made Emilia’s stomach twist into a tighter knot.

“I wouldn’t turn my nose up at either of those scenarios,” he said with an air of smugness. “But if I had to choose, I always prefer to take control.”

Emilia swallowed. She had to be dying from dehydration given how parched she was. It was too bloody hot to be sitting outside, secluded with Sebastian and the topic of sex.

“Just as I figured,” Emilia said, hoping she sounded confident. She wanted so badly to match him, to challenge his arrogance. But she also wanted to be the submissive complement to his dominance. It was a maddening conflict.

“Oh? What makes you take me for the dominant type?”

Emilia snorted. “Oh, come on, Seb,” she said. “Everything about you screams dominant.”

“I like screaming.”

Emilia’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. Was there something in the air that was causing him to speak so flirtatiously? Sure, the pair flirted, teased and joked, but this felt much bolder than anything they’d previously discussed. Sebastian seemed to be pushing her buttons, testing her limits.

“You’re a downright pig,” Emilia said, though her laughing tone and smiling eyes stripped her of all seriousness. Sebastian merely grinned and shrugged a shoulder.

“You’re right, though,” he said. “There’s a lot to be said for the power that comes with taking control.”

“That’s not why you do it, though,” Emilia noted. “At least, it’s not the only reason.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

Emilia rolled her eyes, her sweaty palms tucked beneath her legs as she spoke. “You’re also a very giving person, Seb. You give everything your all. You don’t do anything halfway… Which is why you like to take control. It allows you to ensure your… partner is fully satisfied.”

Sebastian let out a low whistle. “I knew you were perceptive, but now I’m starting to suspect you’re a Legilimens,” he said. “Almost as if you’ve given this quite a bit of thought.”

Oh, if only he knew. The heat in Emilia’s cheeks was surely giving her away.

“You could only be so lucky,” she shot back. 

“Apparently,” Sebastian replied, his eyes glinting with amusement. They fell quiet and Emilia fidgeted with her skirt hem. When Sebastian noticed this, he nudged her gently in the side.

“No need to be so bashful about it, darling,” he said. “It’s just me.”

That was the problem. Emilia wasn’t the type to shy away from much of anything. Few things scared her, or even unsettled her. And even though she and Sebastian knew one another deeper than anyone, he was the one person who could unnerve her without even trying.

“You are distracting me from my scouting,” Emilia said, gesturing toward the quidditch pitch. Sebastian snorted.

“Please,” he drawled. “Like you’re worried about Gryffindor. Just flip your hair at Weasley or something and the game’s over.”

“Flip my hair? Sebastian, that’s awfully sexist of you.”

“Well, it’s true! I’d do it myself but I don’t think I’m Weasley’s type. He’s got it bad for you. Just do that thing where you draw your hair back with your hand and chew on your bottom lip. That’s enough to send anyone into a spiral.”

“ What thing?!”

“Nevermind.”

“No, what the hell are you talking about?” Emilia was sitting straight up, her body turned to face Sebastian with full attention. 

“Forget I said anything.”

“No, tell me right now.” Emilia shoved a hand against his shoulder for emphasis.

“Hey, no need for physical violence!”

“Tell me!”

Sebastian sighed and tilted his head backward, resting it against the post as he peered upward into the bleachers for a moment.

“You do this thing,” he started carefully. “Where you pull your back into a ponytail and hold it in your hand. And then you chew on your bottom lip. You do it when you’re deep in concentration, like your hair in your face is a distraction or something. It’s just very… very alluring.”

Emilia tensed. “Alluring,” she repeated blankly. She didn’t know Sebastian could ever think of her that way. 

Sebastian nodded silently. “Perhaps even a bit provocative.”

Oh, Merlin. They were in for it now. Emilia could feel herself hurtling toward her demise, and Sebastian had been the one to push her from the ledge.

“Provocative,” she whispered.

It was Sebastian’s turn to shift uncomfortably. It was a rare act of vulnerability he couldn’t conceal. He had all but admitted outright to her that he’d envisioned her partaking in racy deeds that surely breached the boundaries of friendship. 

But the way the hem of her skirt had snaked its way above her knees had turned his brain to dust. There wasn’t a single coherent thought behind his eyes as she continued to mull his words over.

He prayed she wouldn’t sense his discomfort; the beads of sweat that had settled along his hairline; the clench of his jaw that made his teeth ache; the stiffening inside his trousers that threatened to ruin everything.

It suddenly dawned on them that their faces were much closer than usual. Sebastian could smell the sweetness of her bubblegum. Emilia could see every freckle with clarity. A few more inches and their lips could solve all their problems.

But the shrill whistle that signaled the end of Gryffindor’s practice made them both jump and sent them scrambling to their feet.

“They’re going to come this way,” Emilia hissed as she recast her disillusionment charm. All thoughts of indulging in any fantasy were abandoned as the pair scurried back toward the castle.

---

The evening before the Slytherin vs. Gryffindor match was met with tension. Imelda had been a downright tyrant during practice, screaming until she was hoarse. The team practiced for three hours in the rain, until Madam Kogawa showed up to bark orders at them to return to the castle.

“There won’t be a match tomorrow if you’ve all got pneumonia!” she scolded.

The remainder of the team showered and scampered back to the castle, eager to rest up for the evening. Emilia remained behind again, sitting quietly lost in thought on the locker room bench.

She wanted to claim her thoughts were focused on the next day’s match. She wished she could chalk it all up to nerves and her determination to win. She longed to be that dedicated to her team and sport.

In reality, her attempts at thinking about quidditch vanished the moment she realized she was alone. Those stupid, calamitous fantasies about those freckles surged through her brain again.

She and Sebastian hadn’t spoken in two days, not since the afternoon under the bleachers. Emilia had managed to avoid him at all costs, even slinking in late to their shared classes so he couldn’t sit by her.

It was all painfully immature, but Emilia had no other option. She was terrified by what her conversation with Sebastian meant – or didn’t mean. Was it shameless, silly flirting? It had to be, right? If Sebastian had ever been interested in her romantically, he would have said something or made a move by now, right?

Emilia was too cowardly to find out. She’d long ago come to terms with the conclusion that she and Sebastian would never venture beyond friendship, but it would splinter her heart to ever hear that confirmation out loud.

She’d rather suffer in silence than ever broach the subject that could dissolve her daydreams forever.

“Don’t tell me you got hurt again.”

Emilia’s head snapped up. “Sebastian,” she breathed. He leaned against an archway, still clad in his quidditch robes like her.

“What are you still doing here?” he asked. “You’ve missed dinner.”

“So have you,” Emilia pointed out.

“I was polishing my broomstick in the storage cupboard.” Emilia straightened in her seat, forcing Sebastian to bark a laugh. “Not like that,” he mused. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“You said it, not me,” Emilia mumbled.

Sebastian chuckled and pushed himself off the archway, slowly approaching until he stood in front of her. Her fingers dug into the tops of her knees.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said gently as he peered down at her.

“I’ve been busy.”

“Busy scrambling to get away from me.”

“Nonsense,” Emilia said, praying Sebastian hadn’t noticed the way her voice increased by an octave. “Seb, I’ve had a lot going on.”

“Oh? With Eric Northcott?”

“What?”

“I heard he was trying to get you alone in the Potions storeroom yesterday.”

“And you believed that?” Emilia asked incredulously.

“I believe he was trying to get you alone,” Sebastian answered. “Didn’t say anything about thinking you’d actually join him.”

“Good,” Emilia said with indignation. “Because our little… conversation the other day doesn’t mean I’m rabid with lust for every male to walk the halls of Hogwarts.”

“Oh believe me, I know. We all do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Emilia demanded.

“It means that we’ve all noticed you, but most of us are too terrified of you to do anything about it.”

Emilia narrowed her eyes. “Terrified of me,” she scoffed. “Sebastian, please. I haven’t hexed anyone in the school since last term, and we all know Puffskein Duncan deserved it.”

“Maybe so, but you’re still pretty intimidating,” Sebastian noted.

“How am I possibly intimidating?” Emilia breathed. “Just because I’m powerful with a wand doesn’t mean I’m some bloodthirsty killer.”

“We’re not scared of you because you can kick our arses. We’ve known that for years now,” Sebastian said. “We’re scared of you because you’re too damn beautiful and none of us know how to handle it.”

The air vacated Emilia’s lungs immediately. It made her woozy and she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d slipped into one of her dreams. Perhaps she was sleepwalking, or maybe she’d been the victim of one of Garreth’s concoctions that made the drinker manic. She couldn’t fathom a lucid world where Sebastian Sallow thought she was beautiful. Sure, other boys fancied her dark hair and bright smile, but Sebastian had always appeared immune to her appearance. He never seemed to pay any mind to her softer, feminine side. 

“Sebastian, did you take a bludger to the head?” Emilia asked. “You’re talking crazy.”

He let out a pitchy laugh and sat on the bench next to her, close enough so that their thighs touched.

“You can play coy as much as you want,” he said. “Especially if that’s your thing.”

“My thing?”

Sebastian smirked at her. “You said you like it when someone else takes control in these situations. I’m merely listening to what I’ve learned.”

Emilia’s stomach did somersaults. This couldn’t be happening. She sat, her shoulders tense as her nails pressed tiny divots into her legs. 

“Sebastian,” she rasped. “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking control,” Sebastian said simply. “I’m tired of overhearing all these stupid little rumors about you and Northcott and Weasley. I’m claiming what’s mine.”

“What’s yours?”

“If you’ll have me.”

There were no words. Things like this didn’t happen to Emilia. Her life’s story was marred by tragedy – death, destruction, the fate of the wizarding world left within her hands. Wild, lustful romance was usually reserved for her imagination, far from reality. 

“Sebastian, are you sure? Do you even know what you’re saying? Have you been meddling with dark relics again?” 

Sebastian glowered at her and she couldn’t help but smile. “I know exactly what I’m saying,” he said. “It’s the same thing I’ve wanted to say for nearly three years.”

“What?”

“Come on, Emilia,” Sebastian sighed. “I’m trying to be seductive here.”

Emilia snorted. “Sebastian, this is ridiculous.” His face fell, to Emilia’s horror. “Not because I’m not… interested, but because you don’t need to seduce me.”

“I don’t?”

“No, idiot,” Emilia breathed with a laugh. “You could’ve just straight up told me.”

“Oh. Well I wasn’t sure-”

“Well now you are.”

“I am?”

“Sebastian?”

“Yeah?”

“For once in your life, stop talking. Shut the fuck up and kiss me.”

He obliged. 

Hands grasped hungrily at robes, pants and other articles of clothing as the pair refused to separate their lips. When they finally parted for a breath of air, Sebastian pulled away slightly to smile.

“Bubblegum,” he murmured.

“Huh?”

“Bubblegum. That’s what I smelled in my amortentia. Bubblegum and some sort of vanilla.”

“Oh,” Emilia smiled. “The vanilla is the soap I use in the shower.”

“Ah.”

“Care to see it?”

Within mere moments, Sebastian had her pinned against the wall of one of the girls’ showers. He kissed her hard, his tongue seeking more bubblegum flavor from hers as he peeled away the final bits of clothing that remained over her hips.

“Unreal,” he breathed as his eyes roamed her naked body. “You are so fucking beautiful.”

He stepped closer to her, his bare cock pressing against the flesh of her stomach as he kissed her again. She arched her back off the wall at the sensation, desperate to find out how hard he could get.

Sebastian reached for the faucet as he kept his lips crushed against hers, the hiss of hot water showering them as their fingers familiarized themselves with the other’s flesh.

Emilia reached for his cock but his hand found hers, curling around her wrist. He swept his arm upward, pinning her arm against the tile above her head.

“Didn’t say you could have the privilege of touching me just yet,” he said in her ear. His voice was a low, husky grumble.

They were only getting started and Emilia was already melting beneath the authority Sebastian was asserting. She was never going to be the same after this.

Sebastian pressed a kiss to her neck, drawing a low moan from her. His mouth moved across the ridge of her collar bone to the top of her breasts. 

“I can’t believe anyone was created so perfectly,” he mumbled against the swell of her right breast. He placed another kiss to it before his tongue slipped over her nipple. It made her breath hitch and core quiver.

Sebastian continued his trail of kisses downward as he sank to his own knees in front of her. He planted a kiss just below her belly button, then one on each hip bone before he flashed her a villainous smile. 

He placed one more kiss to the skin just above her slit before his tongue sank inward toward her entrance. It made Emilia gasp with fervor. Sebastian’s tongue glided over her clit, pressing into her folds. A low growl rumbled from his throat as he tasted her arousal.

“Sebastian,” she breathed, her eyes falling shut as his tongue flattened and flicked against her clit. Her hips jutted forward and one hand tangled in his hair.

Sebastian’s hands gripped her thighs as he lapped at her, desperate to know how she sounded when she fell apart.

His mouth engulfed her entire entrance, sucking against her flesh as he savored her taste. Emilia whimpered at the heat that coursed through her. It settled in her nerve endings, searing in the form of a familiar ache Emilia never thought Sebastian would ever relieve.

“Sebastian, I-”

Her words died as Sebastian traced spell patterns across her clit, a trick he’d learned from listening to the older boys during his early Hogwarts days. He drove his tongue harder against her until he could feel her thighs start to quake. They jiggled in his hands and he hummed at the sensation. 

The vibration made Emilia moan, her climax creeping to the surface. She grinded her hips against him, nudging her clit in quick, jerking motions against his tongue. The curtain of tension inside her fell and the swell of ecstasy started. It erupted through the bundle of nerves and made her toes curl as her back arched off the wall, a moan singing through the shower corridor.

She slumped over when it subsided, a fog clouding her thoughts as she recovered. Sebastian sat back on his heels as she caught her breath. 

“My turn,” he said as he stood. He propped himself against the wall with one hand as he leaned in to kiss her. Steam surrounded them as Sebastian’s hands rested on Emilia’s hips.

She melted into his kiss, her head still hazy until Sebastian drew her closer by the waist with a rough pull. He kissed her harder, one hand tangling in her hair until he gave it a sharp tug. Emilia’s head snapped back and he kissed her neck before he guided her away from the wall by the hair.

“I said, my turn,” he said quietly. He pulled his arm downward, forcing Emilia to her knees by her hair. She eyed his erection and reached for it with one hand until Sebastian swatted it away.

“Use your mouth,” he ordered. Emilia obliged. 

She took him into her mouth, her hands resting against his thighs as her head bobbed. Sebastian kept one hand fisted in her hair, pulling it away from her face in a ponytail. He smirked as the visions once confined to his daydreams came to life.

“You’re fucking incredible,” he murmured, his eyes holding affection as he admired the way her lips wrapped around his cock.

When his tip hit the back of her throat, he grunted at the plush warmth. Emilia gurgled around him, holding him in her throat as she nodded her head. When she pulled away, her lips dragged over his shaft, tongue flat against the bottom. The cold, pebbled floor left raw and red dimples over her knees.

She hollowed her cheeks as her lips tightened and pulled repeatedly, the sounds of wet lips sucking against flesh resounding over the shower stalls.

Sebastian drove his hips forward, his cock gliding in and out of her mouth as the movements of her head clashed with his thrusts. When his cock began to twitch, Sebastian yanked her makeshift ponytail backward, her lips separating from his cock with a soft pop.

“Stand up,” he ordered as he released her hair. 

Emilia rose to her feet and he pulled her into a long kiss. His hands explored her front, cupping her breasts until they drifted over the curve of her torso and squeezed her hips. His erection bobbed against her stomach, the hot water leaving him slick.

Sebastian eyed the bar of soap that sat on the tiny shelf of the shower, its scent so familiar and comforting. He swiped it over Emilia’s breasts, leaving a trail of milky vanilla. The sight of the soap suds cascading over her nipples made Sebastian chew at his lip in desire. He rubbed his soapy hands over her body, taking care to touch every inch of skin he possibly could. He watched with admiration as the shower streamed lines down her body, rinsing her clean.

“How are you so fucking perfect?” he murmured.

Sebastian pinned her against the wall again, one hand snaking between her thighs. His fingers dragged lazy lines over her clit, the moisture of her arousal combining with the shower water. 

Emilia was growing impatient. She’d take anything Sebastian was willing to give her, but her focus was on convincing him to fill her with his cock. She whined as he sank a finger inside her, her core swollen from her previous orgasm.

“Sebastian,” she begged. “Please, I need more.”

Sebastian tutted in her ear and curled his finger. “You’re going to have to ask nicer than that, darling.”

“Please,” Emilia rasped. Sebastian’s eyes met hers. They were dark with devilry. 

“No,” he said simply. “Not yet.”

Emilia gnawed on her bottom lip to withhold a scream of frustration. Sebastian added a second finger and pumped his hand hard. His fingers forced themselves against her front wall, plunging into her soft sweet spot. The sounds of water and arousal squelched with every motion, drowning out the tiny whimpers escaping Emilia’s throat.

Sebastian attacked her neck with forceful kisses as her breaths grew heavy and quick. They mounted in tandem with the wave inside her, her walls squeezing Sebastian’s fingers in search of release. Emilia’s hips beckoned it from his fingers, which Sebastian pulled upward at a merciless rate. He could feel her clamping tighter and tighter until her head snapped back and she released, her walls fluttering around his fingers as she cried out.

Sebastian smirked at how spent she looked, flushed and sweaty, her hair plastered to her face as the shower rained over her curves. The sight was so sinful, Sebastian’s cock began to throb.

He reached with one hand to shut the water off. The sound of water hitting the rough floor was replaced with the cool, quiet air of the still room. Emilia shivered. 

Sebastian wrapped her in his arms, pressing his body against hers for warmth. But just as she started to relax into the heat of his skin, he scooped her up, tossing her over his shoulder as he retreated to the locker room. 

“Sebastian!” she laughed, her breasts flattening against his back. “Put me down!” Sebastian smirked at the sight of her ass, hoisted in the air as her legs dangled in front of him.

When they reached the benches at the center of the locker room, Sebastian set Emilia on her feet. 

“I’ve had years to think about all the different ways I’d have you,” he murmured in her ear. “All the ways I’d make you moan. All the ways you’d take my cock. All the ways we’d both come. The possibilities are endless. But since you like me to be in control, I’ve decided there’s nothing I’d like more than to watch you fall apart beneath me. I want to take you on your knees.”

Emilia nodded in silent agreement, her eyes begging him to begin. Sebastian nudged her toward the bench, where she sank to her knees. Sebastian stood behind her and swiped at her entrance with one hand, the familiar warmth coating his fingers. His cock was so hard, it was damn near painful.

He lined himself against her entrance and pushed forward, the tip of his cock slipping into her folds until she stretched around him. He watched with heavy eyelids as her cunt swallowed his shaft until he was fully sheathed. 

He paused for a moment, swallowing at the searing heat surrounding his cock.

“You’re too fucking tight,” he said through gritted teeth. He had no idea how he was meant to last when she was so taut, so warm beneath him, her skin still glistening and wet. It was far more erotic than anything Sebastian could have imagined. His cock was already twitching.

Emilia’s fingers gripped the side of the bench for stability as Sebastian rocked against her, his cock dipping inward until he pulled it back. Emilia held her breath as her core stretched to accommodate him, the increasing friction making her walls clench.

Sebastian reached for her hair again, tugging backward until Emilia moaned. He watched the ridge of her spine curve as her head snapped backward and grunted at the sight.

He leaned forward to cup her breasts, his hips snapping forward in a harsh thrust. It nearly knocked the wind from Emilia. As Sebastian bent forward to press a kiss to the back of her neck, he murmured, “You’ll tell me if it’s too much?”

“It’s not enough,” Emilia breathed.

The atmosphere shifted like changing winds. Sebastian’s final pillar of hesitation and restraint crumbled like weathered concrete at her words. She was more than he’d even dreamed of and right now, she was his.

Sebastian straightened up, his hands gripping Emilia’s hips as he slammed his cock into her with a resounding smack. The rhythm carried throughout the locker room repeatedly as Sebastian grit his teeth so hard, his jaw ached. He didn’t care. Lightning could strike him down or the ground could collapse and swallow him whole at that moment. He’d die happily now that he knew how it felt to have her.

But if he was going to live, he decided he wasn’t going to do so unless he could have her again and again. He wanted the vision of her falling apart beneath him to be the last thing he saw each night, and he wanted the sound of her moans to fill his dreams until he could wake up and do it all over again.

He’d address that later. For now, he was content to simply have her in that moment, trusting him to take care of her and fulfill her. 

The more her arousal coated his cock, the quicker Sebastian thrusted. His cock drove upward into her, driving into her sweet spot. It was rapid and hard, the pressure mounting within Emilia’s core until it felt like her body might ignite from the heat. Each connection of Sebastian’s thighs against Emilia’s ass made her skin ripple, the waves symbolic of the rising tide within her. Finally, the wave broke and she cried his name, her cunt shuddering around his cock. 

“Fucking hell,” Sebastian groaned at the new sensation of her climax flooding around him. The sight of her spent body, now slack with satisfaction, was too much for him.

He pumped hard into her twice more before he let out a shout and his cock jerked and burst inside her. Emilia moaned at the warmth that coated her swollen core until Sebastian slumped over her back, panting breathlessly above her ear.

He didn’t want to separate from her. The warmth of her soft body felt like home to him. But as her arms shook from supporting her weight and the force of his thrusts, Sebastian pulled himself off of her, one arm tucked around her waist to pull her upright with him.

“All right?” he murmured softly in her ear. She nodded silently as she turned to face him, her hair wild and her eyelids heavy. Sebastian couldn’t help but smile at her sinful and disheveled appearance. “Come here,” he said as he pulled her into his arms. “Come sit.”

He guided her onto the bench where they sat, side by side. Sebastian draped an arm around Emilia, who cuddled up against him. Their bodies, still damp from the shower, seeped water onto the bench as they sat quietly.

Sebastian watched Emilia’s eyes fall shut as she rested against him. He pressed a kiss to her temple, his fingers tracing gentle patterns over her arms as he held her. When she opened her eyes again, she smiled softly, her eyes studying his freckles. She couldn’t believe she was able to study them so close, each speckle marking something unique and special.

“Imelda’s going to kill us if she finds out this happened,” Emilia mumbled.

Sebastian breathed a gentle laugh. “If we beat Gryffindor, Imelda will let us do whatever the hell we want,” he said. “She’d probably encourage this.”

“Perhaps we’ll have to do this on the desk in the captain’s office next time,” Emilia suggested.

Sebastian quirked an eyebrow at her. “Next time, huh?”

Emilia flushed. “Perhaps, if you want,” she said slowly. Was she naive for assuming this was meant to happen more than once? It wasn’t like she and Sebastian had spent any time discussing their intentions.

Sebastian laughed and gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “You’re mental if you think I’m letting you do this with anyone else, ever again,” he said.

When they finally gathered themselves up off the bench, they collected their clothes in silence. Sebastian kept his eyes on her the entire time, admiring her curves and their graceful movements once more before they became concealed by her uniform.

The only time he turned his back was to search for his belt. As he did so, Emilia memorized every freckle scattered across his back.

---

Perhaps the Slytherins slightly underestimated their Gryffindor rivals. Slytherin managed to nab a narrow victory over the lions, but not without a grueling fight.

The team gathered in a heap at the center of the quidditch pitch in celebration, the screams and cheers from their housemates ringing throughout the stadium. Sebastian, who was at the bottom of the pile, didn’t realize who was on top of him until he was met with the familiar scent of vanilla and bubblegum.

“Ow, Imelda!” Emilia squawked, well aware that she was facedown on top of Sebastian, who was on his back. “That was my head! Everyone get off, I’m getting crushed!”

“You’re getting crushed?” Sebastian exclaimed from beneath her. “What about me?”

“Sebastian, stop moving,” Emilia ordered. “Sebastian, that was my chest!”

“Oops, my mistake. Didn’t realize.”

“Liar.”

The bodies above them shifted until Sebastian and Emilia were the only ones left. The roar of activity around them faded to a background hum as Emilia remained sprawled on top of him, her face inches above his.

“We fucking won,” Sebastian murmured, dropping his voice so that only she could hear.

“Told you we would.”

“Told you Weasley would get distracted by you.”

He reached up and gently tugged her ponytail before she pressed a kiss to his freckled cheek.

[sallowedbethyname]

to be home, to be loved, ch.1

pairing: sebastian sallow x reader (hogwarts legacy)

rating: mature (eventual smut)

themes: found family, friends to lovers, slow burn

summary: Eleazar Fig and Solomon Sallow died. Anne Sallow had disappeared. You, Sebastian, and Ominis tried as best as you can to move on, learn, and heal from everything that had happened. In an effort to keep Sebastian company and gave Ominis a new refuge after your fifth year at Hogwarts ended, you proposed an idea: the three of you living together in the house Professor Fig left you.

notes: am i too late to write fics for the infamous, the illustrious, the genius sebastian sallow when hogwarts legacy came out almost 2 years ago? probably, but that never stopped me before, so here it is!

read the full chapter on AO3

read chapter 2

It had been over a week since Spring arrived, melting white snow to make way for verdant green and vibrant colors. Hogwarts was lovely this time of the year, with blooming flowers and swirling butterflies softening the solemness of the castle. It was almost hard to believe that just a few weeks ago, you had been fighting for your life against Ranrok, shaking the very foundation of the castle. Yet Hogwarts still stood tall and majestic. Unshakeable. 

Everyone called you Hogwarts’ Hero, but you wondered if they knew that your sleep had been plagued with vivid dreams of bright flashes of red, the memories of the Keepers, and the light fading from your mentor’s eyes as he drew his last breath. Who would've expected that you'd have trauma by the end of your fifth year? Certainly not you.

The teachers, bless their hearts, seem to be paying more attention to you these days. Even more than before, when they used to give you tasks and extra lessons to make up for lost time. Among them, Professor Weasley was the one who often reached out to you to inquire about your O.W.L preparations. 

Curiously, though, the deputy headmistress didn't seem interested in your O.W.L or Field Guide today. Instead, she regarded you with a gentle, sympathetic expression as she handed you a thick envelope. 

“I know the grief of losing Professor Fig must be too fresh for you, but with the year ending and… in light of everything that has happened recently, I'm afraid this cannot wait.”

You stilled in your seat, immediately assuming the worst. Had the remaining goblin forces taken arms again? A new enemy entering the fray? Or perhaps you weren't meticulous enough when locking away Isidora’s repository and some of the magic had leaked away?

Professor Weasley cleared her throat. “This is Professor Fig’s will. He'd entrusted this to me the night you fought Ranrok. I assume you knew that Professor Fig and Miriam had no children?”

“Yes,” you slowly replied, thinking back to the months before Hogwarts where Fig patiently taught you everything you need to know about magic. 

What Professor Weasley said next made your eyes widen in surprise.

“Well… Professor Fig had decided to list you as his beneficiary. This means all his possessions now belong to you, including his house in London.”

“I— what?”

“It’s all stated in his will,” Professor Weasley nodded at the envelope before you, urging you to open it.

You hesitated. Eyebrows furrowing in confusion and disbelief. You wondered if this is a setup. Perhaps Professor Weasley decided to give you a surprise test before O.W.L to really gauge your readiness? But what purpose would it serve? The deputy headmistress has no reason to trick you and even if she did, she wouldn’t resort to using Fig, wouldn’t she? It would be too cruel.

Still, the deputy headmistress was silent while you mentally hyper-analyzed your current predicament. Nervously, you reached out for the envelope, pulling out its contents with trembling hands. Complicated words jumped out at you when you unfurled the parchment. You weren’t really well-versed in legal phrases and languages, but as you read through the pages and saw the stamps and signatures that belonged to Fig, you realized that everything Professor Weasly said was true.

Professor Fig left you everything.

“I… This is…”

You could feel your eyes getting wet with tears but blinked them all away, refusing to let out even the smallest sob or sniffle. Not in front of Professor Weasley, at least. Professor Fig never really expressed any sort of familial affection to you. Any praise and encouragement mostly only came because of your aptitude for magic and quick thinking. Because of that, you assumed he only saw you as his student. You two hadn’t known each other that long, after all.

You flipped the pages and began to reread everything from the beginning and, to nobody’s surprise, nothing’s changed. The content of his will stayed the same. 

But why, you found yourself thinking. A big wave of grief swept over you. A part of yourself secretly wishing Fig could’ve told you all this on his own. After all, despite everything, he had been the closest thing to a father that you’ve ever had. 

Not for the first time, your chest swelled with rage towards Ranrok, though you know it was futile.

“I had the pleasure to talk with Fig not long after he discovered you,” Professor Weasley finally spoke with a gentle voice. “He told me how gifted you are, how he had never seen someone learn magic so quickly. He was very proud of you, dear. And I’m sure that sentiment only grew bigger until the very end of his journey.”

“I… I don't know what to say, Professor, I…” you stammered. 

With a flick of her wand, a cup of warm tea appeared on the desk and Professor Weasley offered it to you. “Fig also told me that you were living in an orphanage. I suppose he hoped that, though he’s no longer with us, you can now have a home to return to aside from Hogwarts.”

You sobbed, unable to hold back the tears. Without wasting a beat, Professor Weasley was already at your side, rubbing soothing circles on your back. The warm gesture was appreciated, of course, but you tried your best to stop crying. 

“Your mentor is a good man,” she said. “He had made sure that you’ll never live in want.”

“Truthfully, Professor, I don’t know if I deserved this. I…” you paused, rubbing your eyes with the sleeve of your cloak. 

“Nonsense, you’ve done so much for the wizarding world. I know Fig, he wouldn’t have made this decision if he wasn’t sure,” Professor Weasley reassured her. “But… it's up to you, in the end, whatever you want to do with Professor Fig’s possessions. I advise you to sleep on it tonight before coming up with a decision.”

Your nose flared as you took a deep breath, blinking away the burn in your eyes. “Alright,” you said, suddenly feeling more exhausted than ever. “I'll give it a thought. Thank you, Professor.”

The deputy headmistress nodded. “Well, I shan't keep you any longer. You still have classes to attend, after all. But rest assured, I'll always offer you my assistance should you need it.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

*

Try as you might, you couldn't stop thinking about Fig’s will. You barely paid attention to whatever Professor Sharp was saying (you were pretty sure he was giving you disappointed looks the whole time) and, when class was finally over, you began walking aimlessly around Hogwarts, hoping the excursion could help you process everything that had just happened. 

Of course, you had been giving some thought as to how you were going to spend the term break before your sixth year began. Natty and Poppy had also invited you for a sleepover at their houses. But, ultimately, you thought you were going to spend most of your time back at the orphanage, though you absolutely did not look forward to it.

But now, things have changed drastically.

You weren't trying to be ungrateful or petulant but… how many fifteen-year-olds out there got entrusted a house and a certain amount of wealth all of a sudden? 

The details of Fig’s home trickled back into your brain as you recalled the few times you had been there. It was a simple two-story house with brick walls, cobblestone roofs, a garden filled with peculiar magical plants, and a chipper house-elf named Hobbs. The insides of the house were filled with books and knick-knacks from Fig and Miriam’s adventure. It was warm there. And quiet, detached from the hustle and bustle of London’s city center.

‘Wouldn't it be so empty if only Hobbs and I lived there? How can I even stay there when Professor Fig is already gone?’ you wondered, uncertain. 

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn't realize that one of the armors in the corridor had already broken down into pieces, its parts strewn messily across the floor, no doubt it was because of their usual fight. But this detail slipped your mind and, the next moment, you found yourself falling down to your knees after you tripped over what seemed to be an iron breastplate. 

“Ow!”

“...Is that the Hogwarts' Hero I hear stumbling down the corridor?”

Cheeks reddening, you looked up to see none other than Ominis Gaunt standing in the middle of the corridor with his wand stretched forward, glowing red.  

“Yup, it's me. And don't call me that,” you sighed before pushing yourself back up and casting Reparo to fix the armor. “Fancy seeing you all by yourself, Ominis, Sebastian's not with you?”

“He’s being held back by Professor Garlick.” 

“What, did he make a student faint with a mandrake?” you asked as you inspected the repaired armor, satisfied with your work. 

“Almost lost an arm from accidentally dropping his Chinese chomping cabbage.”

You winced. “That… didn't sound good.”

That did not quite sound like Sebastian as well. You may not have known him long enough, yet Sebastian was not exactly someone you'd call clumsy. No, he had always moved with certainty and confidence, with intentions behind each of his actions. Needless to say, he wouldn't have done something as foolish as accidentally dropping a magical cabbage that could tear one's limbs. 

You turned to look at Ominis, half-surprised that he was still there. 

“How is he doing?”

“He’s… managing, though I can sense that Anne's situation still bothers him greatly,” Ominis quietly answered, carefully picking his words. “But I believe that he has come to terms with it. Slowly making peace with everything.”

“That's good to hear,” you nodded. 

Of course, like Ominis, you had been witnessing Sebastian making good progress. He seemed to be fully committed to the promise he made to you in The Undercroft a few days ago, and for that, you couldn't have been more relieved.

“Speaking of Sebastian, there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about,” the blond-haired boy spoke again and it piqued your interest. 

“Mm?”

“Not here, let’s go somewhere quieter.”

“...Alright, lead the way.”

You assumed he would lead you to The Undercroft, yet it seemed Ominis had a different plan in mind because the two of you had just made a turn that certainly did not lead to your secret base. 

“Where are we heading?”

“The Black Lake,” he answered and your eyebrows shot up. “I’m unsure if this is something Sebastian should hear. Not yet, at least.”

You tilted your head to the side. This was certainly unexpected. After all, a good portion of your fifth year was spent doing unsanctioned and dangerous things with Sebastian, away from Ominis’ disapproving gaze. Now it was you and Ominis who were scheming together while keeping Sebastian out of the loop.

“This… was certainly a surprising turn of events.”

“You’re the only one I can turn to. And as to why, I'm sure you don't need a reminder.”

That shut you up. “Fair enough.”

It didn't take long before you reached the Black Lake. You held back a shiver when a chilly spring wind blew, mussing up the strands of hair that escaped your braid. Still, the sight of a verdant meadow after four months of pure white was very much welcomed. When you squinted, you could see the silhouette of the giant squid that lingered in the murky depth of the lake. 

Ominis led you to a quieter, more secluded part of the lake and you followed, sitting next to him on the grass. 

“So, what is it?”

“I know I said that Sebastian seemed to be doing alright, but… with the term break approaching, I can't help but worry for him. Anne is keeping her distance, Solomon's gone. Sebastian will be all alone.” 

“Ah… that,” you hummed. “I've been wondering about that, too, actually. Of course, I don't know Sebastian as well as you do, but I wondered if he'd be okay going back to an empty home. I figured the grief would be too much.”

He let out a heavy sigh. “I will just say it as it is. Aside from the grief, I worry he would try to do something stupid. Something we've agreed we'd help him put a stop to.”

An uncomfortable sensation pricked your skin, trailing down your spine. The faintest echo of Crucio that Sebastian cast on you back at Salazar’s Scriptorium. It was consensual, yes, you had asked for him to do it, but the pain was unbearable. It was as if you were being burned from the inside. As if a thousand knives pierced your skin over and over again. Your throat constricting on its own and breathing had been impossible.

Still, some days you wondered what was worse, the consensual Unforgivable curse or the anger he lashed out at you whenever he got too frustrated about his quest to find a cure for Anne.

‘Water under the bridge,’ you thought to yourself.

“I suppose you couldn't take him with you?”

“With me,” Ominis repeated slowly. “You’re suggesting that we bring Sebastian to a house where children are not taught but also encouraged to use the Unforgivable curses.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Curses aside, you know how I preferred not to stay in that house. I used to visit Feldcroft in the past, but now…” 

There was an awkward silence for a moment as you realized it wasn’t just Sebastian who lost his family and home. Ominis also lost a shelter. You looked up towards the blue sky, wishing you could find someplace for your two friends. Perhaps the three of you could sneak and hide in the Room of Requirements for the entire term break. That wouldn’t be too much of a bad idea, would it? Wild, but… plausible? You certainly wouldn’t have any problems with it.

Absent-mindedly, you put your hand inside the pocket of your cloak. It was at that moment your fingers brushed against an envelope. 

Professor Fig’s will. 

Suddenly, another idea popped into your head. 

“Something happened to me earlier.”

“Yes…?” Ominis arched an eyebrow, unsure of what it had to do with your current predicament. 

“Professor Weasley gave me Professor Fig’s will. He had listed me as his beneficiary… which means all of his possessions, including his home, are entrusted to me. I’ve been to the house a few times before and… it was quite spacious. There were spare rooms available.”

Ominis immediately turned to face you. “Are you suggesting that Sebastian could live with you during our term break?”

“I— well…” 

Now that you had said it, you realized how ridiculous you may have sounded. 

“I know that you tend to come up with bizarre ideas, but would your family even be okay with this? Can’t imagine they’d be pleased if you suddenly came home with a boy.”

‘They probably wouldn’t… if they existed,’ you thought to yourself. 

“Um… I sort of don't have one…”

“What do you mean you don't— oh,” Ominis immediately fell silent when he understood what you implied. The blond shifted awkwardly. “I must admit I have heard some rumors regarding your… family, but I didn’t dare to ask I…” he faltered. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. Don’t apologize. Really!”

An awkward silence stretched for a brief moment before he finally let out a sigh. “Well, that’s even more bizarre, then. A girl and a boy living together. Did it ever cross your mind that your idea is rather unconventional, if not, inappropriate?”

You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks. Ominis did not have to make it seem more serious than it really was. The three of you were just friends and nothing more. You highly doubt that Sebastian would do anything weird. Besides, it’s not like any of you had a lot of options.

“I know… it was just—” you took a deep breath. “Look, I just thought we could all stay there. Yes, you included. There's enough room for everyone to have their own privacy and there’s also a house-elf, so it’s not like it’s going to be just us.”

Ominis still looked like he suddenly got his vision and saw that you actually have three heads instead of one. 

“I don’t know what to say, thank you for the invitation? But have you considered the fact that there’s a possibility that something unwanted could happen?”

“Sebastian wouldn’t do that! And neither would you!” you replied with wide eyes, perplexed. “And even if any of you somehow did, which I highly doubt, I'm perfectly capable of defending myself.”

You were quite certain that Ominis didn't doubt you. After all, you did have the ability to wield ancient magical power and have successfully thwarted a goblin rebellion.

“Besides,” you took a deep breath. “I really don't know if I'm going to be able to live there with only a house-elf to keep me company.”

He paused. “Why is that?”

A rueful smile bloomed on your lips. “The silence would be too much for me to bear.”

“Ah…”

“A- anyway, you don't have to agree to my idea if you're uncomfortable about it. I was just thinking out loud… we need a place where one or the two of us can keep Sebastian company and you need a place to escape your family. I thought the house could be a good option.”

Ominis finally let out another defeated sigh. “You’re not wrong.”

Biting your lower lip, you inched forward, not wanting to put more stress on him. “I suppose there is a possibility that Sebastian would be completely fine living in Feldcroft alone and things would be the same despite… what had happened. At any rate, we wouldn't know unless we talked to him about it, no?”

“Yes, I suppose you're right,” he muttered. “We should talk to him tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

The Slytherin boy arched an eyebrow. “We're going to Feldcroft with him tomorrow, remember?”

Right. You remembered Sebastian asking you to go with him and Ominis to his cottage in Feldcroft. This would be his second visit after Solomon’s death and Anne’s disappearance. The first happened just moments after he learned of his sister’s disappearance. Suddenly, your chest felt heavy.

“Alright. We'll talk to him tomorrow.”

Ominis nodded. “I have to go back, Sebastian is probably searching for me already. Talk to you soon.”

“Me, too. I promised Natty we’re going to Hogsmeade together. See you, Ominis.”

He stood up and dusted his robe. His expression was unreadable. 

“Despite everything that had happened,” he spoke again in a soft voice. “I’m grateful for all the help that you’ve done for Sebastian. I reckon it must’ve been hard for you, too, back then. I’m sorry, I realized there were times when I was being too harsh on you.”

The heaviness in your chest grew and though Ominis couldn’t see you, you still hid your face from him. A small part of you worried he could somehow sense the relief you were trying to suppress. Still, a treacherous part of you continued to wonder if Sebastian would still do what he did if you had made different choices. Had you, despite your best intention, unknowingly and foolishly led him into darkness?

You took a deep breath. 

“Thank you, Ominis.”

*

That night, you dreamt about Isidora’s final repository, tucked deep beneath Hogwarts. Yet instead of locking it away, you absorbed it. Unknown, unlimited power coursing through your veins, taking you to a greater height. 

You dreamt that you found Anne and, with that treacherous power, you broke her curse. 

*

Feldcroft was as humble and quiet as the first time you visited it. The evening sun bathed the little hamlet in a warm, golden hue, enhancing the colors of the daffodils that grew all over the grassy field. It seemed to be more alive, with villagers loitering around merchants and children running across the meadows. With the goblin forces gone, peace had returned to the hamlet.

Beside you, Sebastian was staring at the idyllic sight with a hollowness in his eyes. The price of freedom surely had never been so steep. Feldcroft was safe, but Solomon was gone, Anne did not want to speak to him, and some villagers were eyeing him warily. There were rumors that the young Sallow boy had cast one of the Unforgivable curses during the last goblin attack. Opinions were divided, some thinking he should be thoroughly investigated, while others thought “Well, good riddance! He saved his sister!”

“Sebastian…”

“Come on,” the brown-haired boy said. “All this walk is making me tired.”

You glanced at Ominis, who seemed to be holding back as many emotions and thoughts as you did. Sighing, you followed Sebastian as he made his way home. 

The Sallow cottage was in a slightly worse state, which wasn’t unreasonable, considering nobody lived there anymore. Sebastian hadn’t said anything about his desire to return, but the three of you came to the house anyway to keep it clean and well-maintained. 

Solomon Sallow was laid to rest in a simple graveyard in the back of the cottage. Anne had told everyone in the village that he died peacefully in his sleep. Silence stretched as Sebastian stood before the grave, while you and Ominis stood a few feet behind him, watching. The brown-haired boy was still as a statue and you wondered what went through his mind.

But then he sighed and turned to face you, his face calm and eyes clear without a hint of tears. 

“I'm done here. Let's get inside.”

With a flick of his wand, the door to the cottage opened easily. Inside, it was as if time was frozen. There was a glass on the table where Anne used to sit, the bed was unmade, an opened letter sitting on top of a nearby fireplace, and the windows were starting to collect dust.

“Well… let’s get to it, then. Nothing a few Scourgify can’t solve,” Sebastian said, trying to maintain a carefree attitude.

The three of you worked in silence, repeating the spell to clean any dust and dirt you laid your eyes on. You turned your attention towards the bookshelf by the window, noticing more opened letters were scattered on the shelves and the floor around it. You averted your gaze, not wanting to take a single peek at the content. One of them caught your eye anyway because it had your name written on it in handwriting you had grown familiar with. 

Unable to resist the urge, you carefully picked it up from the floor. As you suspected, it was Sebastian’s letter to Anne, and he was talking about you.

Dear Anne,

Do you remember the new fifth-year I brought with me during my last visit? I forgot to tell you this, but she’s very strong. She’s capable of magic beyond our comprehension and she agreed to help us find a cure. I couldn’t be more grateful that I met her. 

Wait for us, Anne. We will cure you, no matter what.

Sebastian

“You know, reading someone else’s letter is considered a breach of privacy,” Sebastian’s voice almost made you jump. You turned to find him already standing next to you, eyes fixated on the letter in your hand.

“I’m sorry. It had my name on it, I got curious,” you shook your head before tucking the letter back into the first empty envelope you could find and stuck it between the books.

“It’s fine. There wasn’t anything scandalous there anyway, thankfully. It was just me singing your praises,” he replied, a faint hint of playfulness lacing his tone.

You bit your lower lip as you looked up at him, uncertain. You never did manage to use your power on Anne. It wasn’t like you knew how to reverse or break a curse — the Keepers didn’t give you much knowledge beyond how crucial it was to use your power responsibly — but you wished you could’ve at least tried.

“I’ve been thinking about reaching out to the Keepers again, now that they’re all present in The Map Chamber,” you finally confessed, picking your words carefully. “These past few weeks I… I’ve been trying to practice the ancient magic on my own, but it proved to be a bit difficult without a mentor. I just…” 

You sighed. 

“I still wanted to try, if you’re alright with it. To cure Anne, I mean. We… I… didn’t manage to try it before.”

Sebastian's eyes widened as he stared at you in surprise. “If I’m al— of course, it is alright with me! Goodness, after everything I’ve done you still—” he stopped himself, taking a steadying breath before continuing. “Thank you. I… you don’t know how much this means to me.”

A soft smile curved on your lips. “I’ll start working hard, Sebastian. Of course, I have to remind you that there is no guarantee that it will work. Isidora tried to remove pain and ended up creating a destructive force that she could not control. But I promise I will try. Figure something out. Find a middle ground that Isidora couldn’t.”

“And that is enough for me. Really,” he says, half-laughing, averting his gaze because he just couldn’t look you in the eye. The gratefulness he felt was just too great and raw he feared that you could spot it with just a glance. “Though, I suppose… we can only do that if we know where Anne is, can’t we?”

Your smile faded ever so slightly. “Yes, you’re right…” you trailed off before shaking your head and giving him a bright grin. “I believe she’ll come around. You didn’t lose hope back then, so let’s not lose it now.”

The weight of the unspoken fact laid heavy between the two of you: there was a solid chance that Anne wouldn’t return. Yet you chose to gloss over it for Sebastian’s sake. You also would like to believe that the bond between the twins was stronger than any adversities thrown at them, including their current predicament. 

It seemed that Sebastian thought of the same thing because he smiled at you and nodded.

“I won’t.”

*

It took around three hours to clean the Sallow cottage until it was spick and span. By that time, the sun had set and the three of you decided to make use of the dining room to eat some desserts you had stolen earlier from Hogwarts’ kitchen. 

“I find it a sacrilege that you knew how to get into the kitchen and not tell us,” Sebastian said with a mouth full of bread. 

“Sebastian, for the sake of decorum, please swallow your food before you speak,” Ominis lamented, his face contorting in disgust. 

“With all due respect, you cannot see me, Ominis.”

“But I can hear you, Sebastian, I'm not deaf.”

You found yourself smiling at their bickering. At moments like these, it was so easy to slip back into your normal routine, so easy to believe that everything was alright. No dark arts. No curses. No forbidden artifacts. 

“I have to agree with Ominis on this one, Sebastian, it's gross.”

“See? She has spoken. Listen to her.”

The brown-haired boy rolled his eyes. Still, he finally swallowed his bread and you were grateful for that. 

“You're saying that as if I never listened to you.”

Ominis let out a sigh that sounded as if he was a 500-year-old vampire who had grown extremely tired and weary of life.

“Cases where you listened to me are, unfortunately, rare.” 

“Alright, alright. We can go to the kitchen tomorrow, I'll show you the way,” you interjected, worried that the discussion would lead to sore topics. “The house-elves were very friendly, I'm sure we won't have any trouble getting there.”

Sebastian grinned. “I know I can always count on you.”

Perhaps it was the playful glint in his eyes or the carefree smile on his lips, but his words made you smile. You tried to mask it by eating another mouthful of your cream puff. 

“Though I have to say, bit of a shame I knew about Hogwarts' kitchen so late… but there's always next year, I suppose,” he spoke again.

You glanced at Ominis, and, as if sensing your gaze, the blond boy spoke. 

“Speaking of Hogwarts, are you planning to stay here for this term break?”

There was a short silence. Sebastian leaned back on his chair and stared at the ceiling. 

“I dunno,” he answered. “I suppose I could… but without Anne this house just felt…”

A pause. He shook his head. 

“Well, if you're planning to stay here for the entire break like you used to, I guess it wouldn't be so bad,” he finished, nudging Ominis with his knee. 

“I can't. Not for the entire period. The last time I did that, my lovely mother and father had been even more unbearable than they used to be,” Ominis said in disdain. “I must spend a few days or weeks at home, unfortunately, to prevent them from going rabid.”

“Darn it. I'm so sorry, that sounds horrible, Ominis,” Sebastian sighed. 

“I agree, some people just… shouldn't be allowed to become parents,” you muttered. 

“It was nothing I couldn't handle, as unfortunate as it sounds. But if it does get worse, I won't hesitate to make my escape. You’ll probably find me on your doorstep, Sebastian.”

The brown-haired boy let out a hum. “Escape, huh? These days I've been thinking about that, too. Going somewhere far away from Feldcroft, leaving this place for good…” he said with a faraway look in his eyes, imagining his perfect paradise. “But I couldn't abandon this place when I still don't know where Anne is. Feldcroft is… Feldcroft is the last thread that connected me to my sister.”

“Are you going to stay, then?” Ominis quietly asked. 

“I dunno. Frankly, I don't like being here without Anne,” he replied before locking eyes with you. He smiled. “What about you, ace? I reckon you'd go somewhere fun after your heroic deeds this year?”

Your heart leaped ever so slightly at the nickname. ‘Ace’, Sebastian often called you, because you always bested him in a duel, because of your terrifying and extraordinary skills. He used it teasingly at first. A way of getting under your skin or initiating a friendly banter. Now, there was a softness to it.

Though, you probably only imagined it. 

“Oh, she's definitely going somewhere alright. Somewhere better than ours,” Ominis muttered. 

“Somewhere better? What do you mean?”

“It's a bit of a long story. To keep things brief, Professor Fig made me the beneficiary of his will, meaning, all his possessions are now mine,” you explained. “I now have my own house.”

Sebastian's eyebrows shoot up to his forehead, brown eyes widening in surprise. “Beneficiary?” he repeated, utterly bewildered. “Woah, who would've thought? But I suppose it's not too outlandish, you were quite close with him and you saved Hogwarts. Well deserved!”

“It's a bit strange though, isn't it? I thought he would've picked a relative.”

“Maybe he doesn't have one and that's why he chose you. Could be anything, really,” he shrugged. His gaze momentarily shifts from you to Ominis. “Hold on, I didn't expect you'd tell Ominis before me. You wound me, ace.”

“This isn't a competition, Sebastian,” Ominis replied coolly, though you could sense a bit of amusement seeping into his tone. 

“You were still caught up in Herbology class yesterday,” you explained with a shake of your head. “Didn't realize you're quite possessive.”

“I mean, I saw you first,” he said with a low chuckle, the simple action successfully made your treacherous heart race. “And I was the one who dragged you into this circle, so… without me, you wouldn't have been friends with Ominis.”

You let out a laugh and you could hear the other Slytherin boy let out a bored sigh. “It doesn't work like that.”

“Ominis is right. Besides, I remember you made him mad at me for a few days because you told me about The Undercroft. So, the way I see it, you sort of ruined Ominis’ first impression of me.”

“It was a betrayal of our pact,” Ominis nodded dramatically.

“The end justifies the means!” Sebastian retorted, raising both of his hands, a cheeky grin curving on his lips. “Anyway, Fig’s will. What are you planning to do with them?”

Holding his gaze, you sat up straighter, somehow feeling nervous about what you were about to say. 

“This is just a thought. A random idea that came into my mind,” you started, greatly intimidated by the innocent way he tilted his head. “Fig’s house is rather spacious and… I don’t know if I could live there alone. Well, I suppose I won’t be alone, there’s a house-elf there, too. But I figure it would still be very, very quiet, with Fig already gone and all… I don’t know, the quiet just… unnerves me lately. So I thought… I’d like to invite the two of you to stay there, with me.”

“You’re asking us what?” Sebastian blurted. 

Had this been another one of your mindless, silly discussions, you would’ve laughed at his dumbfounded expression. But unfortunately, it wasn’t. 

“But we’re…” he took a panicked look at Ominis. “We’re boys!”

You let out a groan. “You’re saying that as if we hadn’t explored Salazar’s Scriptorium and spent who knows how long exploring goblin camps together!”

“That’s different!” he spluttered, absolutely flabbergasted. “This is… this is living together! Do you not have other friends?”

“I do, but they all have a loving and functional family, so I can’t exactly ask them!”

“I—” he was ready to retort, but you knew he knew there was no arguing that fact. Still, he shook his head. “And what about your family, huh?”

This time, Ominis spoke. “She’s an orphan.”

“She’s a— hang on. Again, how could you know this but I don’t?!” 

“You never asked!” you quickly replied, almost impatiently. “But that’s beside the point. You asked me what I wanted to do with the house, well, that’s my idea, but it doesn’t mean I’m forcing any of you to do it. It’s just… a wild, random thought.”

Sebastian was still staring at you as if you had just encouraged everyone to learn Avada Kedavra and insisted that it was actually an ethical spell.

“I mean, I think you'd benefit from being a bit more cautious and careful,” he carefully said. 

“Sebastian, I have the ability to turn you into a chicken. No offense, you're a great duelist, but I don't think you can harm me even if you wanted to. And I trust you wouldn't.”

“Of course I wouldn't!” 

An awkward silence fell. You couldn't help but glare at Ominis for being awfully silent and unhelpful, before realizing he couldn't see you. Mentally cursing yourself, you began to speak.

“Anyway, it was just an idea,” you waved your hand flippantly, now eager to return to Hogwarts. 

Yet Sebastian seemed to have a different opinion. “But you said you couldn't stand the silence and you're still grieving over Fig's passing.”

Your eyes met his and, for a moment, you feared he could look into your soul. He couldn't have possibly found a spell that gave him Dementor’s ability, could he? 

“Yes,” you admitted anyway. 

You and silence never really went hand in hand. The orphanage had been noisy most of the time. Bustling with a cacophony of children's screams, cries, and chatters. Silence used to be a respite you had often chased yet eluded you. 

But things had changed. When the noises receded and the room grew quiet, your mind became unbearably loud. There were so many sounds and thoughts echoing in the back of your head. The sound of Avada Kedavra cutting through the air, the deafening crack as the stone ceiling collapsed above you, burying Fig’s body under its colossal size, the roaring of a dragon. Each night a different memory.

Before you, Sebastian shifted on his seat, his eyes carefully searching yours. “Well, it can't be helped, can it, ace? We'll go with you. Though, Ominis would probably tap out every once in a while because he has such a pleasant family.”

“I'll try to make my family visit as brief as possible,” Ominis murmured. “Anywhere is better than home.”

You stilled, not at all expecting them to agree. A part of yourself wanted to laugh at the turn of events. You and Ominis should've been the one giving support to Sebastian, yet the tables turned and now you were the one being cared for. Perhaps Ominis had orchestrated the flow of the conversation to keep Sebastian in the dark. You found yourself not minding it, though. 

For now, you let yourself revel in the rare feeling of your friends coming to your rescue. 

“Alright. It's a deal. No going back on your promises.”

“Of course,” Ominis replied, his voice soft, a gentle smile curving on his lips. 

Sebastian locked eyes with you again and he grinned. “Wouldn't even dream about it.”

*

Time went by in a terrifying sleep. Somehow, you finished your O.W.L exams and your last day at Hogwarts had arrived. The Gryffindor table erupted in a loud, booming cheer when Phineas Nigellus Black, without masking his disdain, announced that they had won the house cup. You couldn't help but revel in your fellow housemates’ euphoria. 

“Imelda Reyes was talking about how Slytherin would win the house cup,” Nellie Oggspire said conspiratorially. “I told her if Gryffindor didn't win, then the system is rigged and Hogwarts’ integrity should be questioned! You have saved this school and the wizarding world! I say that should warrant a permanent house cup victory for Gryffindor until the next seven years!”

It was a wild idea, but you found yourself not minding it. Besides, you agreed with Nellie.

“What's important is that we won,” Natty said, a satisfied smile blooming on her lips as she sat straighter than usual. She started picking up pastries from the table and placed them on your plate. “Now, I believe our hero should have her own feast!”

“Hear, hear!” Garreth whistled. 

You let out a hearty laugh, happy at the absurd amount of pastries and desserts filling your plate. However, when your eyes caught the empty seat where Fig usually sat, an emptiness crept its way into your heart. Grief had been woken up from its slumber. You tore your gaze away and, somehow, it landed on the Slytherin table. Meeting with Sebastian's. He gave you a knowing smile and raised his glass. A silent acknowledgment, which you returned. 

Still, the emptiness clung to your figure as you dragged your feet back to your room, where your neatly packed trunks had been waiting. For a moment, you stood there, casting your gaze around the room, determined to memorize every detail even though you would return in a few months. 

“Hey, don't look too sad.”

You turned around to find Natty leaning against the doorframe, a sympathetic smile curling on her lips. 

“We'll all see each other again in a few months.”

A sigh. You let out a low chuckle. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. I’m being sappy, aren’t I?” 

Natty’s dark eyes crinkled in delight. “You’re not, this school tends to have that effect on people. And don't worry. I'll make sure to write you lots of letters. That way, you won't feel too lonely.”

The smile on your lips grew. 

“Thank you, Natty.”

The journey to Hogsmeade train station was loud, as the students' chatter filled the air like the humming of a thousand bees. You managed to claim an empty thestral carriage for Garreth, Natty, Poppy, and yourself. As other students began to fill the remaining carriages, you spotted Sebastian and Ominis in the crowd. Quickly, you raised your hands, calling out to them.

Soon enough, your carriage was filled with familiar faces. The faces of your first friends in Hogwarts. Some roped you into trouble, some helped you achieve the unimaginable. All of them you cherished.

“Huh, I think this is my first time seeing you joining the train ride to London, Sallow,” Garreth was the first to speak, eyeing the brown-haired boy curiously. 

Sebastian's eyes locked with yours for a fleeting second before he cleared his throat. “I'm moving somewhere closer to London this year.”

Garreth hummed in acknowledgment. Silence blanketed the carriage for a moment, only broken by the huffing of the thestral and the sound of the wheel grounding against wet soil.

“I'm sorry about your uncle,” Poppy finally spoke with a gentleness akin to the caution one might show when approaching a wounded puppy. “First Anne and now your uncle… you've been through a lot.”

This time, Sebastian avoided your eyes, but you could somewhat feel the tension in his body. Feldcroft was not at all far from Hogwarts and words traveled far. Condolences had been given, as everyone, just like the villagers in that little hamlet, believed that Solomon Sallow died of natural causes. The gruesome truth was only known by you, Sebastian, Ominis, and Anne, and all of you guarded it close to your chests. 

“Thank you, Poppy, I appreciate it,” Sebastian replied with a hollow smile that did not quite reach his eyes, an expression that could be easily mistaken as grief. 

“How's Anne? Is she coming with you to London?” Natty asked. 

You opened your mouth, wanting to interject, worried that the innocent question would only rub more salt into Sebastian's wound. But to your surprise, the boy was smiling earnestly. His eyes reflected just the right amount of sadness. Enough to make everything believable.

“Anne is in France with one of our great aunts. She moved there after Uncle Solomon passed away. It was a tough decision, but… we agreed it was for the best.”

“I see…” Natty replied, completely none the wiser. “Well, I wish only the best for you, Sebastian. I know how much you care for your sister. I hope that one day, you'll be able to find a cure for her.”

This time, Sebastian faltered. From his side, Ominis inched forward, opening his mouth, no doubt eager to change the topic, worried about how it would affect Sebastian. 

Yet before he could say a word, Garreth spoke.

“I believe you will find that cure, Sallow,” he said plainly, simply, as if stating that anyone with a brain can brew an Edurus potion. “What? This world is a big place and magic is a boundless thing. I'm pretty sure it's out there somewhere. If not now, perhaps sometime in the future.”

“I think this is my first time hearing you saying something so wise, Garreth,” Natty said in amazement. “I did not know you had it in you.”

“Rude!” Garreth retorted, feigning a hurt expression. “I'll have you know that this brain of mine contains a multitude of new potion recipes ready to be tested! You think I am incapable of weaving pretty words?”

“It's a bit hard to imagine that when you regularly blow up your cauldron, to be honest,” Poppy said, grimacing. 

“And stealing from Professor Sharp's ingredients vault,” Ominis spoke for the first time, half-amused, half-relieved to fuel a new topic that did not concern Sebastian, Solomon, or Anne. 

Garreth protested, yet his voice was drowned by Natty and Poppy’s laughter. As your friends recounted more of his shenanigans, you locked eyes with Sebastian once again. His expression was soft, akin to relief. You tilted your head to one side, pink lips curling into a lopsided smile, which widened when he mirrored your actions.

No words were spoken, but you knew he found comfort in Garreth's words, and for that, you couldn't have been more relieved. 

*

It was almost sunset when the train arrived at King’s Cross Station in London. Students flooded out of the train, ready to be reunited with their families, ready to go home. Poppy found her grandmother in the crowd and you could hear her delighted squeal as she wrapped the older woman in a big hug. Garreth went his separate way not long after. You noticed him being welcomed by a group of people, all having almost identical red hair and the same kindhearted look. Must be the Weasleys. 

“Well, here we are, London,” from your side, Sebastian hummed. “Where to now?”

“The house is on the outskirts of the city. I think it's best if we take a carriage there. What do you think, Ominis?” you asked, turning to the blond-haired boy who had been rather quiet throughout the entire ride home. 

To your surprise, Ominis looked exhausted. You looked down to find him nervously fiddling with his wand.

“My mother’s helpers are here. I can sense them,” he quietly said, dipping his head low. “I suppose this means I have to go see my parents first.”

“Oh…” you stilled, unsure of what to do. 

If it were up to you, you'd waste no time whisking him away and maybe transfigure this helper into a chicken. The rest of his family, too. Good riddance. Yet you knew it wasn't what Ominis wanted. You probably couldn't do it either. Plus, you'd rather not get involved with the authorities, lousy as they were. 

“We understand, have a safe trip, Ominis,” Sebastian said, patting the boy's back. “Let us know if you need us to kidnap you from that hell hole.”

Ominis tried to smile, but it came out strained. 

“Thank you, but I'd rather you not go anywhere near my family. I don't want them to taint any of you,” he turned towards your direction. “Especially you, since we know nothing of your blood status.”

“...I understand. Please, be careful, Ominis.”

He nodded. You couldn't help but find how drastically Ominis changed in a matter of seconds. The sweet, gentle Ominis always seemed to glow when he was in Hogwarts. His smile was relaxed and his voice soft. A serene look on his face whenever he dozed off in class. Yet now, his light had been dimmed out. Eyebrows furrowed, hands couldn't stop picking on his fingernails. He looked terrified. 

“I will,” he said anyway. “Be on the lookout. I honestly do not know how long I must stay at that torture house… but I'll try to join you as soon as I can.”

Sebastian patted Ominis' shoulder once again, this time giving it a firm squeeze. “Stay safe, and I mean it, call us if you need some help to escape.”

“I will. Don't worry. I have my ways,” the blond-haired boy said, relenting. He took a deep breath and placed both hands on his trolley. “See you again. And don't do anything weird when I'm gone.”

“We won't. Not too much, at least,” Sebastian replied, amusement lacing his tone. 

“I'm going to pretend I didn't hear the last sentence,” Ominis huffed. He stood there for a moment, still facing the two of you. “Well, I better get going.”

“See you, Ominis.”

The Gaunt boy nodded. His expression was grim. But he adjusted his bag handles and pushed his trunk towards one of the exits. True to his words, you could see about three wizards waiting there, all dressed in black. They crowded around Ominis as soon as he was close enough, taking his belongings away from his hands to carry them on their own. No doubt it was how the heir of an important, old-money family should be treated. Yet you couldn't help but think your friend looked like a caged dove. There was a weight on his shoulders that wasn't really there before.

“He'll be alright. We've done this a couple of times before. Don't worry,” Sebastian said, nudging you with his elbow. 

“Right,” you sighed and looked around the still-crowded station. “Let's go, then, but make sure nobody sees us. I'd rather them not ask any questions or worse, spread gossip.”

He let out a low chuckle. “Bit too late to consider that detail, don't you think?”

“Oh, shut it.”

Quietly, away from everyone's eyes, you and Sebastian slipped away, but not before casting one last glance at the view behind you. At the train, at Natty, Poppy, and Garreth, laughing as their families welcomed them home, hands laced together. At Ominis’ disappearing figure. 

“You coming? I don’t mind leading but I kind of don’t know the way.”

You turned to find Sebastian leaning on his trolley, looking at you with an arched eyebrow, a playful smile tugging on his lips.

“I’m coming, I’m coming. Follow me, country boy.”

“Lead the way, city girl.”

[valley-of-headcanons]

I would like to request a farmer taking care of a sick Sebastian, if that's alright with you!

poor thing || sebastian x reader oneshot

sebastian is a sickly victorian child, if only there was someone to nurse him back to health ...

warnings: sebastian jokingly tells you to kys

requested by: @thatwolfnamednyla , hiya!! sorry for this taking so long, life stuff, yada yada. i hope you enjoy the request! i tried to make sure it was different from the harvey one despite the similar premise lmao. i really enjoyed writing this!! <3

Sebastian texting you in the middle of the day to complain about something wasn't new. When you were hard at work, you'd check your phone to see your lovely boyfriend venting to you through text. It wasn't usually too serious, and it was really to start a conversation or to get his thoughts out. You weren't expecting the complaints that he shared with you today, though.

Seb 💙: my head hurts so bad rn ngl, and my sinuses are fucked. i hate spring :/

❤️: Do you need me to bring you some medicine? I can run by Harvey's soon.

Seb 💙: plea

Seb 💙: pjease

Seb 💙: oh my fucking god my eyes hurt so bad i can't fumking type

❤️: You poor thing :(

Seb 💙: kys 😘

Sebastian was curled up in his blankets when you arrived, staring at his phone like a zombie. He looked like a wreck, his face more pale and his hair messier than usual. He looked at you in the doorway, holding some medicine and what looked to be hot soup. He had a soft smile on his face, attempting to speak. All that came out was a squeak, and then silent embarrassment. He was definitely a wreck.

You sat down beside him on the bed, grabbing the medicine from the bag. “Harvey gave me some cough syrup and some allergy meds. I also grabbed some Tylenol for your head, and some food. You barely take care of yourself as is, you probably haven't even gotten out of bed to eat. Have you?”

With a shake of his head, Sebastian sat up and rubbed his eyes. “C- ... couldn't get the motivation. I haven't even tried talking this morning yet, I didn't know my voice was all ... gross,” he said with a soft frown. He rested his warm forehead on your shoulder as you began to pour some cough medicine for him. He took it begrudgingly, gagging at the taste.

“You're more dramatic when you're sick, huh?” you said with a smile, grabbing the pills that you had been given. You handed them to Sebastian and forced him to take them with water. Dehydration was pretty common with Sebastian, as he sometimes forgets to drink enough throughout the day.

Sebastian took the medicine and continued drinking the water, just like you asked. “Listen- ... I feel, sound, and probably look like a sickly Victorian child on their deathbed. Let me be the dramatic one for once,” he mumbled softly.

You laughed softly, opening up your arms and allowing Sebastian to lay his head against your chest. “Well, let me be your deathbed, I guess. I'll stay as long as you want me to, 'kay? I've done pretty much everything I need to do today. You've got me for the rest of the night, if you'd like.”

Sebastian croaked out a soft “okay,” wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer. The sound of your heartbeat echoed through his ears, a wave of calm washing over him. His body was drained, and when he was with you, he felt safe enough to rest it. He didn't feel the need to be productive, or walk outside and smoke. He just had you, and he was okay with putting his health in your hands.

You brushed your hand through his hair, feeling the soft strands. It was extremely soft when it didn't have mountains of gel coating it. You loved every aspect of him and his style, even if it prevented you from really feeling his hair all the time. He did really like the sensation, though. He wouldn't verbally admit it, but he'd certainly let you know through the soft sigh of relief.

Grabbing the remote, you flicked on the TV. Sebastian was obsessed with this fantasy show, so you decided to turn it on. He'd rematched it several times, and you knew he'd be excited to watch it again.

Sebastian eyes flickered to the screen, before turning to you and pressing a gentle kiss against your jaw. He slinked back to your chest, snuggling into the space between your collarbone and your neck. He was so comfortable, despite how sick he felt. You were the best medicine after all. Also, the medicine you gave him was starting to kick in. That's probably it.

“Thank you,” Seb mumbled softly. He took your free hand in his, rubbing over your knuckles with his thumb. “I appreciate what all you do for me, even if I'm sick and whiny,” he said, clearing his throat.

“You don't have to thank me, hon. Everyone needs to be taken care of sometimes. But, what you can do to repay me, is to start feeling better,” you said, planting a quick kiss on his forehead.

“I can't just magically feel betterrrr ...” he whines gently, burying his head deeper within your chest.

You sighed jokingly, rubbing his back. “Fiiiiine, I guess you pass this time. Next time, you're not getting away with it.”

“Oh nooo ... that's so saddd ...” he said, jokingly monotone. He snuggled even closer, looking up at you. “I love you, by the way.”

“And I love you,” you smiled, kissing his cheek. “Are you feeling any better, though?”

He nodded, laying back onto you. “Mhm ... I think I just needed you. Feelin' a lot better.”

“Good,” you said with a smile. You kept rubbing his back, feeling him relax into your touch. Before long, you heard a soft snore from him, followed by a few twitches. He had fallen asleep, comfortable in your arms. He really needed the sleep, and it's definitely weird seeing Sebastian asleep so early. Hopefully, this was a sign he would feel better tomorrow. You wouldn't have it any other way.