#this is so far into the fic

[astro-nomaly]

I could make. So many of these

[nyxxels]

A quick, silly short comic of @deathbyday's daisuke fic because I had a vision LMAO

Read left to right!

[yallstar]

Opening his eyes, Viktor took in Jayce’s serene expression from just a breath away. He ran his thumbs slowly beneath hazel eyes, hesitant in his reverence. Then he mirrored the motions he’d come to crave and brought Jayce’s face up to his. Viktor kissed Jayce firmly and with all the determination of one playing catchup.

another couple of pieces from chapter 6 of my 5+1 jayvik fic (spoilers, this is the plus one (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧)

[greykolla-art]

Scene from the BRILLIANT fanfic: What Are Friends For by Daisynights on ao3.

These two have such a CHOKEHOLD on me! I even made myself a cringe little playlist for thinking about them.😝💕 (if you guys are interested here ya go: )

But anyway GO READ THIS FIC it’s so fun and the dialogue is spot on, I HAD to do a little tribute to it !

[keferon]

The tac net crash chapter is one of my favorites so far~

Ah and. Guess what. I just discovered that including this post, I made 50 pieces of fanart for Mistakes on mistakes until.. I’m so sane and normal about this story can you tell👍

[thursdaysyme]

lying vs brothers

close ups below

[jeonseoguu]

excerpt:

“And you feel like you’ll die if he touches you one more time. And he asks you what’s wrong, and you tell him the truth, and he smiles at you. He looks just like the sun. He looks more like the sun than the sun does.”

*this is fanart !!!*

fic title: nothing like the sun

by: @succubused

link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22273198

[rynli]

every binary man does this

part 1 part 2

[vivid-vices]

the way chuuya immediately looks down at his shoe with that curiously hopeful look on his face is the cutest thing in the world. "i don't care about dazai at all" chuuya, my guy, you want his approval of your fucking shoes

[paxbe]

if we ignore the fact that this doesn't fit with canon at all, i like to imagine a scenario where eddie somehow doesn't know who steve ‘the hair’ harrington is and, through a series of mix-ups, accidentally makes everyone think he has a huge crush on keith from the video store

like imagine a scenario where eddie is still friends with the kids and he's also friends with robin, so he's heard plenty about their friend steve and he just happens to have never met him or even seen him ever. like he's heard the kids gush about steve (leaving out the killing monsters part because that's classified) and robin mentions like ‘yeah i know steve! i work with him at the video store, you've probably seen him when you've swung by’. but somehow eddie has only come by when keith is working and he thinks ‘yeah sure, that looks like a guy the kids would be hanging out with’ and files that assumption away and doesn't question it.

and maybe they've even talked on the phone like eddie calls robin at the store or at home and she's like ‘yeah i’m just here with steve’ (as usual) and they chat about the kids and whatever and so eddie feels like he's got a pretty solid idea in his mind of this guy “steve” that his friends seem to like so much, and he seems like a nice enough guy even if they don't really have anything in common.

and yeah maybe he does think some of the comments that robin or the kids make are a bit weird, like when he thinks about “steve” (keith) he's a bit surprised that this guy apparently gets so much attention from the ladies, and eddie doesn't think his hair is anything particularly special. but eddie's not the most conventional looking guy either so who is he to judge! and he appreciates that robin offered to help set them up one time but “steve” just isn't his type (and she knows his type well enough so he doesn't know why she's so surprised). but still, there's no reason for eddie to think that he might be picturing an entirely different guy.

and then one day he walks past the video store and steve is working and eddie's like, mouth open ‘hang on who is this??’ and steve makes eye contact with him through the window and smiles or even waves because that's eddie, he knows eddie, they're kind of friends almost. and eddie just panics and books it out of there.

and like a week later he's still not over it and he calls robin (and of course steve is also there) and it's like

eddie: ‘hey who's that other guy you work with at the video store??’

robin and steve: ‘who, keith? yeah he's the guy who hired us, he's alright, we're not that close though’

and eddie's scandalised like: ‘how could you go on and on about steve (no offense steve) and somehow neglect to mention you work with maybe the most beautiful man in the world??’

and steve and robin are like: ‘keith????’

[demaparbat-hp]

Imperfect Canvass

Read on AO3.

It's easy to forget, there, in Caldera. So they do everything in their power to remember. . The Blue Spirit and the Painted Ghost meet in the city each night, two souls in eternal search for repentance. Katara tries to find a way to kill the war, whatever it takes. Zuko, the Perfect Prince, offers her the only pieces of him that remain.

[talaok]

Do you miss me?

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!f!reader

Summary: you and Petey are doing long distance since he's on a mission with the rest of the Avengers, only one day, your longing for him gets to be too much and you decide to send him a little something. How were you supposed to know he was having a meeting with the rest of the team?

warnings: sending nudes, sub!Peter (like very much so), smut| video-call sex, masturbation (f and m), pet names for the spiderboy (goodboy, baby, honey...), and praising.

a/n: my semestral peter fic is here loves. sometimes a girl just needs to tell peter parker he's a good boy, what can i say. (btw i think this was like a trend on tiktok a while back no?)

this is a part of this series but it can be read alone

He could feel his heart beating a mile a minute and his whole face turning red as he rushed to his room.

fuckfuckfuckfuck-shit

The picture was still open on his phone, menacingly perfect- so fucking pretty and-

He'd managed to shut the door and sit on the bed that you were already video calling him.

"you know it's not very polite not to reply when a girl send you a picture of her boobs"

"I-I-" he could only stutter as you smiled at him from his screen

God, you looked pretty...

"I'm kidding baby" You couldn't help but laugh

He was still trying to recover, but after a moment, he finally managed to talk

"I- I was with the others, w-we were having a meeting"

"o-oh" you stuttered before a laugh escaped you, the whole scene comically playing in your head

"Y-your dad was right next to me"

"Oh my god this is the funniest thing ever"

"It's really not"

You feigned a pout, looking at him all sweet

"You'd rather I'd not sent the picture?"

He didn't even have to think about it

"n-no of course I w-wanted to see the picture I-"

"Do you miss me?" you interrupted him

"yes" he rushed to say- god you had no idea how much he missed you "I-I miss you a lot"

"yeah?" you asked again, your voice getting sultrier "You miss my tits too?"

"Y-Y/n-" his voice got stuck in his throat, his cock painfully hard already

"'s just a question Peter"

he glanced at the door to check if it was closed before answering.

"Y-yeah, I-I really miss your boobs"

You grinned proudly at that, propping yourself further up the bed

"You'd like to see them right now?"

fuck me

Peter had never done anything like this, and to be quite honest, he didn't think he ever would.

"Y-yes" he blurted out without thinking "I-if you want to, of course"

You stifled a laugh as you got rid of your tank top

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to baby"

But Peter wasn't really listening anymore, his eyes had fallen to your tits, and his brain... well his brain had kind of stopped working.

You laughed, watching his eyes widen and his cheeks grow even redder.

"you still with me baby?"

"y-yeah s-sorry you just- you're so beautiful"

A smirk pulled at your lips

"thank you" you murmured, laying down on the bed and placing your phone so he could see both your naked torso and face.

You only needed to reach for your left boob and massage it as you bit down on your lip to elicit a strangled "fuck" from him.

"You're hard baby?"

He almost felt the urge to laugh. Of course he was fucking hard- rock fucking hard.

He could only manage a nod,

"show me" you ordered softly.

He hesitated for just about a second before doing as told.

He was nothing if not obedient when it came to you.

The camera flipped to the other side, and you were now suddenly seeing Peter's lap and part of the bed he sat on.

There was a big prominent tent right on his crotch, and your mouth watered in anticipation as he undid his zipper and hurriedly took his cock out.

"mhh" you hummed appreciatively.

His dick was red and angry, already leaking at the very tip.

"You've got such a perfect cock, honey"

You watched his dick twitch at the compliment

"I want to see your face too baby," you spoke softly, your fingers now playing with your left nipple

"Y-yes" you heard his excited voice mumble as he propped his phone on one of the pillows and turned the camera back so he could sit on the bed and be perfectly visible.

"that's better" you smiled, taking in his needy eyes and even needier cock.

"Ca- can I touch it?"

A huge grin appeared on your face at his words... you'd taught him so well.

"Yes honey, but you don't come until I say so, alright?"

An exited breath left his mouth as he reassured you

"Yes-yes I won't- thank you"

And so you nodded, murmuring a soft "go on", and his hand was wrapped around his dick and the cutest, most desperate little moans started spilling from his mouth.

"slow, baby, go slow" you had to remind him as your own hand traveled south, your pointer and middle finger finding your clit as you observed your boyfriend stare at you through the screen as he frantically fucked his own fist.

Your bottom lip was caged between your teeth as your middle and ring fingers slowly found their way inside you, but still, a soft moan couldn't help but escape.

"a-are you...?"

Peter had only now noticed, having been enthralled by... well by your tits all this time.

"yes honey, I'm touching myself too"

A mindless whimper climbed up his throat just at the image.

"c-can I- please- can I see?"

that little word murmured so pleadingly only heightened the pleasure of your fingers, which were now softly thrusting in and out of you, curling up to that soft part of you each time.

"See what?" you taunted, your voice now a little breathless.

Oh, this was torture.

Having to see and hear what you were doing without actually being able to see was much more than Peter could take.

"Please y/n"

"You want to see my pussy, baby? 's that it?"

Jesus Christ, it was a miracle he hadn't busted his load right there.

"mh-mh" he nodded frantically

"ask nicely honey"

He didn't need to be told twice

"I- Please Y/n, can I- can I see your pussy?"

You smiled wide as, without answering, you moved your phone to capture your fingers going in and out of your pussy as best as you could.

The moan he let out was one of a starved men

"You like what you see?" you teased, giggling softly.

"f-fuck-- yeah"

"I wish you were here baby-" you moaned, your fingers speeding up "putting that pretty mouth of yours to good use- or- or filling me up with your cock"

The strangled whimpers and whines fleeing Peter's parted mouth were getting louder and needier each passing second

"You're supposed to say something too babyboy" you taunted him, your voice laced with the bliss of your impending orgasm.

"'m s-sorry" he mumbled "I-I'm not good at this- I-"

"'s ok honey" you cooed "Just tell me what you'd be doing right now- if you were here with me"

You'd switched the camera so your face was in the shot, but you'd angled it higher so your work on your pussy was still visible.

"shit" you heard him cry.

You looked straight out of a dream

"not yet baby, don't come yet" you murmured "tell me"

"I-I" he closed his eyes, trying to focus as his cock begged to burst "I'd want to taste you- to- to get on my knees between your thighs and m-make you come with my tongue"

that earned him a very loud moan on your part

"yeah?"

"yes" he nodded, wanting nothing but to please you

"you're such a good boy honey"

as always, the pet name, made him melt right to the ground and made his cock twitch dangerously early.

"y/n, please"

"'s ok baby-'s ok" you promised "You wanna come?"

"yes- yes please"

his voice was barely a whisper, he sounded almost on the verge of crying

"come with me baby yeah?"

"y-yeah- yeah"

You matched your pace with his furious one, your vision starting to get all fuzzy from the pleasure

"just like that baby-so good- fuck" you moaned, biting your lips as you imagined it was his fingers inside of you, that he was there with you "'m coming- come with me, honey- come with m-"

Your sentence was interrupted by your own moan as bliss took over your whole body, your orgasm spreading like wildfire, until you were curling your toes and crying into the empty room like a madwoman.

While Peter... well Peter's cock had given up the very second you had even hinted at coming. His spent had stained his hand and his pants as he uncaringly tugged at his dick, listening to the beautiful sounds coming out of your mouth.

It took a moment before either of you came back to earth- and it was finally you, who smiled as you sat up, watching your boyfriend catch his breath and wishing you could be there with him to clean him off with your tongue- that spoke first.

"Baby?" you called

He shook his head as if getting out of a trance before he took the phone still propped up on the pillow until you could only see his face- his blissed-out, flushed, beautiful face.

"The mission's tonight?"

"yes" he nodded, still clearly out of it.

"you'll call me after?"

"Of-of course"

You smiled, getting a good look at him as a gentle grin split his lips.

"Good, be careful spidey"

"I-I will" he nodded

"Goodbye baby"

"bye y/n"

And just like that, he was alone, his own come all over him, the fucking Avengers (one of which was your dad) in the other room probably waiting on an explanation as to why he suddenly had different pants on and what was it that he'd received on his phone that had made him get out of the meeting room in such a hurry.

Oh and... he also had to pray that none of the sounds you'd both made could be heard from outside

[goldfishinaplasticbag]

Can we get a sketch of what everyone (or at least Tim) looks like in your AU, I’m absolutely terrible at picturing things in my head, if not that’s fine too

i posted how tim looks in the fic before if you scroll down on my account! but here's the batbros (lazy to draw the others rn)

accidentally made tim like. paper white pale 😭 that was unintentional his brothers just have more melanin than him.

[lurkerdemon]

Random DP x DC Thought #9:

The fight was desperately going on against the villains near a newly located Lazarus Pit, but despite the heroes best efforts they couldn't prevent one of their own suffering a fatal injury.

Per usual desperation to avoid having to go through life with that loss, the dead person is placed into the Lazarus Pit for revival. (The cost of a bout of possible madness could be dealt with, and at the very least it would remove another one of the pits from the world).

Except this time when the revived person comes back out of the waters, the Lazarus Pit doesn't leave. Shrinks certainly, but still roils and churns before a large, glowing creature with white fur looms over all those gathered. Their blue cape flutters slightly as it floats up above the waters.

"Greetings, I am Frostbite of the Far Frozen. I have come to request-"

A head of white hair and glowing green eyes pops up from behind the being's shoulder.

"STOP THROWING SO MANY PATIENTS INTO PORTALS! YOU'RE STRESSING OUT THE YETIS!"

[supercutszns]

a place with you; luke castellan

wc: 2.8k (got a little carried away whoops)

pairing: luke castellan x f! reader

synopsis: luke is used to people coming in and out of hermes’ cabin without a second thought. so when you’re having a hard time adjusting to camp life, he doesn’t expect you to stick by his side, even after you’re claimed.

warnings/notes: shy reader going through a tough time, hurt/comfort, pining, kisses, fluff, potential ooc luke i don’t know what i’m doing, most of this is prob inaccurate lol, i got wayyy too attatched to this i am sorry, title inspired by dragon eyes by adrianne lenker

Luke Castellan is the son of a messenger. He’s used to delivering, passing things along, letting them enter his life and leave him. Sometimes it makes him angry. At his father, at the world, at himself.

So when you passed through the Hermes cabin for the inevitable few weeks before getting claimed by your Godly parent, the last thing Luke expected was for you to stay.

When you first got to camp you were terrified. Luke remembers that much. He can still picture you in Chiron’s towering shadow as he led you up to Hermes cabin. He gave you the usual spiel about the cabin, the land of the unclaimed, but it clearly hadn’t quelled your nerves. You were wringing your fingers together when Luke first spotted you, your eyes blown wide in what he knew as shock and a sort of . . . grief. For a life you’d left for what Luke knows as a life you’d never really have. He’d seen it in so many campers before you. He’d see it many times after.

“This is Luke, Hermes’ head counsellor and one of Camp Half-Blood’s finest,” Chiron pointed him out to you at the entrance. After Chiron introduced you, Luke held your name in his memory. Not because there was anything particularly intriguing about you at first, to be honest, because he’d seen a lot of people like you that needed help settling in (although maybe not many his age). It was harder for some people to adjust than most. He knew that better than anyone.

“Nice to meet you,” he stuck out his hand for you to shake after Chiron left. “I’m Luke.”

You sniffed, shaking it without looking at him. You were so, so embarrassed. This whole time you’d been too stupidly overwhelmed to process anything. Why was this so hard for you? Was it this hard for everyone? “Hi,” you managed, and that was it.

Now, weeks after your first meeting, you’ve concluded that it was not, in fact, this hard for everyone. The camp is crowded but full of life. You’ve never seen more happy kids in your life. There’s a sense of community on the wind.

So why can’t you feel it? Why is it so hard to connect with people? To participate in the fun? Everywhere you look there’s people but it’s all just so . . . lonely. You don’t fit. You’re lost.

Luke wakes up at night when the cabin door creaks open. He’s already tossing, so it’s no surprise he catches it. Unfortunately, he’s supposed to be a good counsellor—sneaking out at night is against the rules, and you’ve gotta reign the strays back in before they cause a ruckus. Sure, Luke’s not exactly a stickler for the law, but the least he owes is to make sure everyone’s safe.

Groaning, he draws himself out of the comfort of his bunk but doesn’t get far when he spots a familiar silhouette slipping out the door. He knows it’s you. He’s been hearing crying at night, and this is confirming his suspicions. It makes him ache in a million different places. Every time he thought about approaching you he shut himself down almost instantly, because who the hell wants some random guy coming up to them in the middle of the night and drawing attention?

This time, though, he’s a little worried.

It’s chilly tonight but not too bad, especially when you’re huddled up in a ball on a hill in front of the lake, grass tickling your ankles. Your tears keep you warm.

It’s a sorrow that feels bottomless. You don’t know what’s gotten into you. You don’t know why everything’s so hard.

There’s a scuffling of shoes, and your name is carried to you on the heels of a breeze. Oh God. There’s someone else here.

You sniff and smear your tears on the palms of your hands the best you can but a little part of you only wants to cry more now that you’re all anxious, and you only have a few seconds to collect yourself before you turn around and see Luke, your cabin leader, with furrowed brows. “Oh, h-hi, Luke.” It’s hard to ignore the splinter in your voice. You curse yourself a thousand times.

“Hey,” he says hesitantly, eyeing you in a way that makes you feel entirely exposed. “You, uh, you know you’re not technically supposed to be out here, right?”

You start to scramble to your feet with an apology on your tongue but surprisingly he laughs, a gentle sound, and beckons you to sit back down. “No, no, I’m not gonna get you in trouble or anything, just . . . letting you know.”

It’s uncertain if you should keep sitting, but you decide to because well, you’re already down here, and things can’t go lower than this. Luke comes to sit next to you and you stare out into the sea like your life depends on it. “Wanna talk about why you’re out here?”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“I mean,” Luke sighs, scooting a little closer to you. “Most people don’t up and leave in the middle of the night because they’re having a great time.”

The answer is too hard to say so you don’t reply.

Again, Luke sighs, and you try not to look at the shadow the moon casts on his admittedly handsome face. “It’s hard settling in, I know. It happens to a lot of people. I’ve . . . I’ve seen a lot of them, and it doesn’t get any easier.”

“Well it sure seems easier,” you snap, and your self-control flies away before you can stop it. “I have no idea why I can’t just suck it up and fit in here. Everyone seems so happy and it’s driving me nuts because I’m just so confused on why I can’t—why I can’t—process any of it.” Tears burn your eyes. “I’m just miserable. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

In the corner of your view, Luke’s face falls. “I’m your guide, you know that, right? I can help you.”

You sniff, embarrassingly pathetic. “I know.”

He comes even closer. “So why didn’t you ask?”

“Because I—I don’t know, you’re busy all the time with all the people in there, so I’m sure your job’s already stressful as is, so—”

“My job is to help you,” he says, a hand on your shoulder. “That’s what I signed up for. If you need something, I’m the one to ask.”

“I’m not sure you signed up for me crying like a baby,” you swallow, the ripples of the lake blurring together. “I mean, I’m like, older than half the kids here, and they’re all so much better than me. I’m not good at a—anything, and I’ve tried it all, and nobody’s claimed me yet, and I feel so weird and old and alone and . . .” It’s too much to think about so you dig the heels of your palms into your eyes, hoping the sting wards off the thoughts. “What if I’m nothing? Why am I here?”

You’re crying again, hiccuping into your hands. Shame sears into you. Luke’s arm curls around your shoulders and you realize how cold you are when he’s warm, so warm, and you want to cry even harder. You don’t even know him, but it’s the most tenderness you’ve received in what feels like years. “Hey, deep breaths,” he murmurs, rubbing your arm with his other hand. “It’s okay. Look at me.”

It takes a ridiculous amount of strength to heed him. His hand catches your cheek and you can’t bear to pull away. Something strange rustles in your stomach.

Luke’s taught instinct when faced with situations like these is to reassure that the Gods always have a plan. But he doesn’t feel like much of a liar tonight. Both his hands steady your face towards his, your skin damp and cold beneath his thumb. “It's not your fault. It always takes a little bit of time for people to get claimed, it’s never . . . well, you can never tell.”

“What if I don’t get claimed?” You say it so quiet you can pretend it was imaginary.

His eyes crinkle at the sides when he says, “Well, Hermes’ll always have a place for you.”

I’ll, Luke wants to say, I’ll. His father is not responsible for his cabin’s kindness.

“No one really prepares you for how overwhelming this is,” he continues, thumb rubbing the apple of your cheek. Your vision is clearer now, and Gods, he is handsome, isn’t he? Even when his eyes are forlorn. “It’s harder in a way when you’re older. More to leave behind. Less to look forward to. It’s easier when you have a friend. Or a great cabin head.” He tilts his head with a faint smile, “Lucky for you, I’m both.”

It almost makes you laugh, and that’s enough. “It’ll get easier,” he promises softly. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Your cheeks burn. It’s hard to keep his gaze, so you blot at your eyes with your hands as Luke gently slides his off your face. “Thank you. Sorry for, um, all that. And the crying.”

He chuckles, “Don’t even worry about it.” You watch him rise in the throes of starlight. He offers you a hand. “Aren’t you cold?” He asks after pulling you up, and you sheepishly nod your head. He tosses you a sweater he’s been wearing, and it smells like firewood. Nostalgic, in a way. “I’m gonna poke around for some tea. Wait for me back at the cabin.”

Before he leaves, he squeezes your arm and that thing happens again in your stomach. “No need to be embarrassed, by the way. You can come to me anytime. I’m probably less busy than I look.” As he walked away, he added, “And don’t worry about the crying. You’re pretty either way.”

Either way. The tea doesn’t seem important anymore because your face is on fire.

Time reveals that Luke is right. He is a great cabin leader and a friend, and it’s hard to tell which he’s better at. You fall in with him right away. Soon enough, you’re drawn into your new life, so slowly you barely realize it’s happening. The days get shorter and you start wishing they were longer. The nights get easier. And when they’re not, Luke tucks you into his bunk and folds you in his arms until you drift off. You pick up a bow. A sword. Luke tells you to straighten your shoulders with a hand on the small of your back, and you swear it always lingers. You braid garlands of carnations for your cabin mates and they wear them with pride. It’s warm, your cheeks hurt from smiling, and things start to feel like home.

Until you’re claimed.

Now you’re a ghost in Hermes cabin, another empty bunk to be filled, and Luke stares at it until he can remember every last detail of what it looked like when it was yours. A beautiful, gentle daughter of Demeter, no longer in arms’ reach. He should’ve seen it coming.

He sees you with your siblings all the time. You’re so happy and he envies it. You belong there, he knows that, the way your face lights up at the dinner table and how you giggle when your half-sister presents you a flower. But sometimes your eyes wander, and something inside them dulls, until you look at him, too.

Luke’s place at camp is to be nothing but a funnel for lost campers to find their home. He’s a temporary stop in everybody’s journey. He’d made peace with it a long time ago. But here you are, messing it all up, because you still don’t leave him.

You beg him to give you another sword-fighting lesson. You sit next to him at bonfires. You pick him for partner camp activities. It doesn’t matter how many younger boys want to latch onto him for guidance—he sees you heading towards him, and he can’t imagine choosing anyone else.

But you’re always whisked away by your siblings, separated at meals and in sleep and in activities so it’s never, ever enough. Why did he delude himself into thinking you’d stay forever?

After weeks of distance from you, he’s elated when you have even a fraction of a conversation. “Hey, Luke!” You call out to him, and he finds you instantly. You’ve broken away from your siblings to get to him.

“Hey,” he smiles, and hopes he doesn’t look too pleased.

You lean a little towards his ear, and you smell like every wonderful thing in the world. “Can we hang out tonight? On the hill?” You’re a little bashful when you say it and it’s entirely endearing. Even now, you’re still so unsure. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” he says almost instantly, and it makes you look less nervous. “Yes. Absolutely. But don’t get caught breaking curfew now, you hooligan.”

Someone calls your name and you give a curt, playful nod. “Yes sir, camp counsellor sir!” He carries your laugh close to his heart until night falls.

You’re already there when he arrives, a vision in the moonlight before he even sees your face. “Hey, angel.”

When you turn around you look flustered. He won’t pretend like it doesn’t flatter him. “H—hi, uh, hello.”

There’s a moment where the world is still. The two of you, alone, for the first time in ages.

He sits down next to you, and it’s like the first time all over again. You get to talking, about your days, your anecdotes, your cabins. The strangeness of it all. “It’s so weird waking up in the morning and not having you yapping in my ear,” you remark, and he teasingly pushes your shoulder.

“Well, one of us has to be the talker, and it’s clearly not you,” he retorts.

You fiddle with blades of grass between your fingertips, weaving them together. “I’ll have you know I had a cabin-wide conversation about Capture The Flag yesterday, and I contributed greatly.”

“Oh, really?” He grins, knocking your elbow to steal your attention. “Look at you, coming out of your shell. I’m so proud.”

It’s hard to hold his gaze for more than a second. You’re afraid you’ll do something stupid if he keeps looking at you like that, but you almost want to. “Oh, shut up.”

He puts a hand on your shoulder. “No, I’m serious. I’m proud.” His eyes rake over your face. “You’re flourishing. You found your place.”

You can’t stop yourself from saying, “I kind of miss my old one.”

There’s a way he studies your expression that makes you feel utterly helpless. You wish you could dish it back to him, but you know you just look awestruck whenever you stare at him for so long. He’s quieter when he replies, “I miss it, too. A lot. Sometimes, I—” His face scrunches up like he just tasted something sour. “Nevermind.”

Frowning, you prod, “What? What is it?”

He sighs and turns to the horizon. This is the first time you’ve ever seen him struggle. “Sometimes, I wish you hadn’t been claimed. Sorry, that’s . . . that’s awful, I know.”

His surprise is evident when you say, “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t either.”

He turns back to you. “Really?”

“Really,” you nod, staring at the beads on his necklace. “You’re the only reason I’ve adjusted here at all.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.”

“It’s true. And I miss you.” A few months ago you would’ve kicked yourself for saying this. But Luke has a way of inspiring confidence in people.

“I miss you, too. So much.” He gently prys the grass you’ve been weaving out of your hands, now a small necklace. “But look at how talented you are. I’ll tell you, I’m lucky you’re still sticking around. For most people, Hermes is touch-and-go.”

Luke leans forward to tie the garland around your neck, and your pulse picks up. “This isn’t about Hermes, Luke,” you try to be firm but it comes out soft. “It’s about you.”

His hands stop fiddling and rest on your neck. When he speaks, you can feel his breath on you. And you have no idea that he’s been waiting to hear that his whole life. “What’s about me?”

It’s not fair, your inability to string sentences together only worsens right when a beautiful boy is this close to you. “Hermes isn’t—it’s not special because of your father, it’s special because of you.”

There is nothing else you can possibly think of saying with the way his fingers trace up your neck and hold your jaw. “Yeah, well,” he murmurs, “The only reason anything in my life is special is because of you.”

You don’t know if it’s a lie or not; you don’t care. His nose nudges yours. There’s a moment where you wonder if this is as close to Elysium you’ll ever get. Then he slips a hand to the back of your neck and pulls you to his mouth.

He kisses you in a near fury, then when he knows you’re not going anywhere, it’s the gentlest thing you know. It’s hard to believe this is even happening. Your hands weave through his curls but he holds you steady, and thank the Gods for that because you’re pretty sure you’re melting. You kiss again, and again, and again, until you genuinely think you’re going to pass out and you have to pull away.

“Aw, look at you,” he murmurs when you can’t meet his eyes, a playful lilt in his voice. “Still so nervous.”

“Would you shut up?” You press your face into the crook of his neck with a huge smile.

He kisses the top of your head. “Love to, angel.”

Luke Castellan is the son of a messenger. He’s supposed to believe he’s bringing the best of humanity to the Gods and glory above.

But screw the Gods. He’s keeping this one for himself.

[myokk]

marry me

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

word count: 5,4k

summary: in which Garreth Weasley has a potions mishap that causes MC to become incomprehensibly proper, and Sebastian is going mad.

cw: fluff, mutual pining, giant squid guest appearance, marriage proposal, loss of virginity RATED M (not *really* explicit) smut (18+ ONLY)

a/n: I had so much fun writing this! I've been working on it since January (I'm the world's slowest writer) and shout out to the amazing girl in my ao3 comments who requested this!! 🫶​

If Sebastian Sallow could curse Garreth Weasley and get away with it, he would.

Unfortunately, after an incident involving Prewett and some misplaced toads, he's being monitored too closely by staff and students alike. Staff, so that it won't happen again, and students in the hope that they will see something and gain the prestige of being the ones to tell everyone else about it. It seems to Sebastian as if students of the red-headed Gryffindor variety are out to get him and make his life an absolute miserable living hell, and he is not happy about it.

That weaselly red-headed bastard had, once again, created a potion whose effects had gone disastrously wrong. This time, he had convinced her that it would alter her memory for 'only a day!', to give her an easier time retaining information so that exams would be easier for her. Their NEWTs are causing the seventh-year students to have periodic nervous breakdowns, and hers had apparently manifested in believing Weasley. Although Sebastian had, time and time again, tried convincing her that it didn't matter if sometimes they had to go over notes a few times before she truly understood them, she had always had a complex about it. If Sebastian had known that Weasley was going to rope her into being the test subject of his latest experiment, he would have tried to put a stop to it.

Sebastian surreptitiously looks over to the girl at his side.

Her head is bent down, dark hair shining in the late-afternoon sunlight as she quietly reads a book at his side. They're sitting on the shore of the Black Lake, it's one of those unusually warm spring days where one could fool themselves into believing it's already summer, and as he stares down at her Sebastian can't help but think of what they would normally be up to. Well, normally as of a few weeks ago.

Sebastian hasn't been able to touch her in two weeks, and he is going mad.

She drags a delicate finger across the words as she reads, her dark lashes fanning out across her cheeks as her eyes follow her finger, plump lips moving slightly as she occasionally whispers the extra-beautiful sounding words to herself.

Well, he could touch her, in theory, hypothetically, but she won't allow it.

She is hell-bent on keeping things as proper as possible between the two of them, and even holding eye contact with Sebastian for too long is seemingly enough to make her so hot and bothered that she can't even speak in his presence. (Sebastian once again curses Garreth.) He slowly, casually, brings his hand closer to where hers is, gently brushing his pinky against hers. Her whole body tenses, she immediately colors and glances up at him, and Sebastian's breath catches in his throat at the sight of the sun glinting in her eyes, the light giving them more depth.

(He can't help but think of a time a few weeks ago, where they were both fumbling with the buttons of each others' shirts, nervous and excited with the feelings that only new love can bring, her eyes glinting similarly and yet mischievous, as if daring him to continue his exploration of her -)

Carefully, she moves her hand away and drags her eyes back to her novel. He hears her murmur, and leans in closer to see what she's saying, the light scent of lavender floating up to him as his breath brushes past her ear: "He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same."

After reading this, she looks at him again and smiles. "That's us, is it not?"

Sebastian gives her a small smile and leans back. Although she's made it abundantly clear that her feelings for him haven't changed at all, she's loathe to let them manifest physically. It would remind Sebastian of the beginning of their feelings for each other, their courtship, had she not acted the complete opposite before, seemingly not being able to get enough of him.

And now, thanks to Weasley, it seems as though their relationship has somehow regressed. Instead of altering her memory for a day, to help her with studying, her personality has somehow been altered.

She's still the same sweet girl he fell in love with. She's always quick to make him laugh with a quip in Transfiguration spoken under her breath, still exasperatingly stubborn about her strange opinions about, well, everything, still obsessed with the lemon tarts served during meals.

The night she had fallen victim to Garreth's experiment, Sebastian had sidled up to her after dinner, placing a hand on her waist and pulling her close so they could steal away and continue their previous night's activities. But, strangely enough, she had squealed and pushed him away, her face flushing a brilliant shade of pink as she looked at him, aghast. Sebastian, she had said, unable to make eye contact with him, what are you doing?

He had been utterly confused himself, somewhat embarrassed at the rejection, and when she continued on about marriage and betrothal and a proper courtship he had felt his whole body go hot and cold at the same time as his throat heated up. Although he can't possibly imagine spending his life with anyone else, although it's a given that she is always a part of any nebulous future he's envisioned for himself, the thought of a commitment of that magnitude is enough to make his heart drop into his stomach. He feels too young to propose, and yet he knows it will happen.

Eventually. Just not now.

He hears a snicker come from behind them and he sighs in resignation. Ominis and Anne have been acting as chaperones during their time spent together, and the two of them find their friend's new-found propriety endlessly hilarious. He admits that he's found it funny, too, and when he's not so frustrated he loves teasing her. There's something so sweet about the way her cheeks flush, how she sputters in indignation when he insinuates anything - Sebastian has to wonder how Garreth's potion has made her interpret their previous intimacies.

She's back to reading silently and Sebastian settles in for another afternoon of hushed whispers, laughter, reading, and decidedly no touching.

She smiles dreamily at her reflection in the mirror as she and Anne get ready for bed that evening. The soft green light filtering through the windows of their dorm room reminds her of the light that had filtered through the leaves that afternoon as she sat at Sebastian's side. "He was so handsome today, wasn't he?"

"You wouldn't be saying that if you'd had to look at his ugly face your whole life," grumbles Anne, finishing her braid with a neat ribbon at the end before turning to her friend. She doesn't hear a word Anne says, instead choosing to stare carefully at her reflection, blushing over the remembrance of Sebastian these last few weeks. The time spent with him has been nothing short of exquisite, and she can feel herself falling more and more in love with him - every stolen glance, the brushing of fingers as they read the same page in a book, the feeling of him leaning in close over her shoulder, his breath tickling the top of her ear and - "Anyways," says Anne, a little more forcefully, snapping her fingers in front of the mirror, "when are you going to let him hold your hand? Might I remind you of what I've caught the two of you doing before? The sight made me want to rip out my eyeballs and feed them to a venomous tentacula and -"

She flushes and looks over at Anne, appalled. How could she joke about something that must have been confessed by accident?

"Anne!" she hisses, looking around frantically to make sure nobody has entered their dorm, "stop being so improper."

The truth is, she doesn't know how much truth is behind Anne's teasing. Her memories from before she took that fated potion from Garreth are cloudy at best, and she prefers to think of them as dreams she's been having lately. Terribly indecent dreams where the object of her every waking thought is doing things to her she never thought possible.

In a moment of weakness she must have confessed something to Anne.

Turning back to her reflection in the mirror: grabbing her hairbrush: trying to tame her unruly curls: steadfastly ignoring Anne pretending to gag behind her. She is over their conversation, especially when Anne is so keen to bring up things she would rather forget. (At least, that's what she tells herself. She gets horribly confused and flustered whenever she thinks of Sebastian in that way.)

But maybe: "I will allow him to hold my hand tomorrow," she says with a sniff, turning towards Anne. Her eyes narrow as she sees her friend stifle a smile before quickly turning towards her bed.

She finds it difficult to fall asleep that night, between blissful remembrances of the dreams she's been trying to forget and the beating of her heart as she thinks about a future with Sebastian and letting him finally hold her hand.

He slips a note to her during Charms.

Dust particles are swirling in the air, Professor Ronan is unusually dull, and the hot summer sun streaming through the windows is just another reminder that they are almost free. Almost done with Hogwarts, almost ready to start the next chapter of their lives and become who they were always meant to be. She can't deny that she's been terribly worried about what's to come - she still is unsure what she wants to do after graduation, and feels her stomach drop whenever she hears the others talk excitedly about the opportunities they've lined up; the only constant in her life is the boy at her side who has been unusually patient with her.

And yet he still hasn't made it clear to her that she is as important to him as he is her. Yes, he is carrying her bag from class to class, reading with her every nice afternoon by the Black Lake, showing her he cares with every gesture, but still:...she can't be sure of how he feels. What if it is all perfunctory? She doesn't want to be forgotten. She loves the little routines they've created for themselves, loves sitting by his side during classes, passing notes; she's loved her short time at Hogwarts and doesn't want to end it yet.

The note is one of many they've been sending back and forth throughout the course of this terribly boring theory class, but this time is different.

His hand is resting on top of the bench between the two of them, note underneath, and were she not so in-tune to his infuriatingly intoxicating presence, she wouldn't have noticed it. He moves with the ease of someone who has been avoiding being caught for many years. And, in the hazy memories (or are they?) she has of her past with Sebastian, the notes the two of them have sent back and forth to each other have not always been so tame.

Surreptitiously, so as not to draw the attention of Professor Ronan (she does not want a scandal), the sound of her blood rushing in her ears as she thinks about what she's about to do, she slowly slides her hand toward Sebastian's - the one resting on top of his note. He starts moving his hand away - he's learned by now to not play any games - but she's faster.

It feels like all of her nerves are located in her fingers as she grazes the back of his freckled hand. She can feel him staring at her in surprise, but she doesn't dare look up at him.

She continues.

Her fingers flutter over his, hesitating, until she gets up her nerve and laces her fingers through his, pressing their palms together. She hears his breath hitch and warmth pools to her stomach at the sound as she finally glances at him. He's looking at her with the most dumbstruck expression on his face and...and her own must mirror his.

She flushes and looks away, but doesn't remove her hand - all she can think about is the feeling of her heartbeat thrumming through her body (can he feel its nervous flutter through her fingertips?), how right the contact feels, and how has she not done this before? But, the nerves she feels are so intense and overwhelming and she doesn't concentrate on Professor Ronan's words for the rest of the lesson.

Sebastian sits, flushed, notes forgotten - even as he leans into the palm of his other hand, trying to look anywhere but at her, she can feel the intensity of his gaze every time his eyes swipe over to her and it's unbearable.

But the thought of letting go of him is even worse.

The morning of the penultimate Saturday before their N.E.W.T.s has Sebastian understandably nervous. He's risen early even for himself - 1 hour and 38 minutes early, to be exact - unable to sleep with everything racing through his mind (equations, charms, precise wand movements, and her) - and has already written down his plan in tiny, neat handwriting, gotten dressed, and has had ample time to worry himself to an early grave.

Ominis has listened to Sebastian for the better part of an hour as he paces back and forth across their dorm, probably creating a tiny, worn-down path in the rugs with his persistence. Sebastian's sure his friend is tuning his ramblings out by now, but he can't help it.

Everything needs to turn out perfectly, and, although he knows that he tends to simultaneously overthink and ruin everything he attempts, this time he cannot. He's been practicing this speech over and over in his mind for days now, had started composing the beginning phrases in his mind weeks, maybe even years ago - maybe since she knocked him to the ground in their first duel at Crossed Wands and taken his breath away.

Of course, back then he hadn't quite realized what was going on - or that it would shape the rest of his life.

He had just known that he wanted to keep her close, by any means possible, whatever that might entail. And with all they've been through together: turning to each other for comfort and understanding after everything that happened their fifth year, the hushed confessions of love that came eventually, their first awkward, lovely kiss and everything that followed - even all of their little squabbles and misunderstandings have brought them closer - Sebastian knows now with certainty that she will be in his life forever and he's been a fool to be so scared of what's to come.

"Did you hear me?"

Ominis shifts in his seat and huffs. "I stopped listening the second I heard of your plan and I've been mentally reciting the uses of flobberworm mucous since then. It's about time, you know. I don't know what's taken you so long."

"You really think so?"

"I know so. Now," Ominis gets to his feet and stops Sebastian from his pacing, clasping his hand. "You know what you need to do, and we'll be waiting to congratulate you when it's all said and done. Maybe we can all go out for a butterbeer in Hogsmeade later on."

(Little did Sebastian know, that would decidedly not happen.)

He nods, anxious despite his friend's support, and heads towards the door. He glances one last time at Ominis before leaving, almost reassured by the sight of him sitting at his desk, back straight, as his fingers slide over the pages of his book. Today marks the beginning of many changes that are about to come to Sebastian Sallow's life, but he can't deny it's comforting to see that some things are still the same.

Step One: Bribe the House-Elves

Sebastian steals into the Kitchens after tickling the pear in the painting guarding its entrance, and is immediately surrounded by a sea of bobbing heads at roughly the height of his waist, huge eyes blinking up at him. He looks beyond them; the whole kitchen is bustling and swarming with house-elves running around with purpose, bowls and whisks and bags of flour and sugar in their tiny hands, not wasting a single move as they prepare breakfast for all of the students.

"What does the young man need?" squeaks a house-elf with particularly hairy ears, grabbing him by the elbow.

In the end, Sebastian leaves the kitchens with more than he had bargained for, no bribes necessary.

He curses himself for never taking advantage of the kitchens before his last week of his final year of school, stuffing leftover pastries in his pockets after meals like a fool, when he could have done this all along. Well, either way, he now has plenty of baguettes - twenty-five to be exact - slung in a bag over his shoulder as he goes to greet the object of his affection. He checks his watch - shit - how is he five minutes late? - and he picks up the pace to the Clock Tower Courtyard, patting his breast-pocket to make sure that the tiny ring embossed with garnets is still in its place.

Step Two: Meet her in the courtyard at 8.00 am sharp (having previously sent her an owl invitation the week before to make sure she wouldn't make any other plans) (ignoring the fact that she is normally sleeping at this time on a Saturday morning)

Sebastian skids to a halt as he reaches the courtyard, looking around for her tell-tale wild curls, and doesn't see her yet. He's only seven minutes late - that's not enough for her to stop waiting is it? - and yet, at her absence, he begins to despair that he's ruined everything. Catastrophically ruined things like the huge, bumbling, idiot he is, and what's he going to do with all of these baguettes now? Eat them? Oh, Merlin, maybe he needs to head back to the Kitchens and get some butter, jam, brie, marmalade -

"Sorry I'm late." A breathless voice interrupts his spiral. His head snaps over to where he's heard her voice and the bubble of his despair bursts, but his nerves are still setting his body on fire. She is absolutely breathtaking, the golden light of the early morning sun glinting in her hair, dancing down the slope of her nose and lighting up her eyes in the way that makes them golden-tinged and deep and beautiful.

Step Two-and-a-Half (improvised): Remember how to breathe

Taking in a few deep breaths really does help ground him, although he can't really tear his eyes away from her face, nor can he forget why he's asked her to meet up with him.

Step Three: Escort her down to the Black Lake, where Anne has (hopefully, she was bribed to help out otherwise the fact that she had a dream about Leander will be accidentally told to Sacharissa) left a basket

As they walk down to the Black Lake, Sebastian can tell she's mystified. Their usual chaperones - Anne and Ominis - are absent, and it's just the two of them. They haven't been alone together since the night before she took Garreth's potion and became incomprehensibly proper.

He swallows nervously and glances over to her. She's been chattering to fill up the silence: "...of course, I told Imelda she was daft if she didn't understand how ridiculous it was..."

And, just at the sound of her sweet voice, he feels little bubbles of happiness fill his chest as if he's just drunk a bottle of pumpkin fizz. He can't help it - he reaches over and laces his fingers through hers. She stops speaking abruptly and flushes; birdsong fills the absence of her voice and her eyes flicker to the bag he has hoisted over his shoulder. "By the way, what are you keeping in there?"

Sebastian just gives her a crooked smile he knows will fluster her more, squeezes her hand, and is grateful she's only noticed the huge bag stuffed with baguettes and not the slight bulge in the pocket of his waistcoat. His heart is fit to burst out of his chest as he thinks of what's to come, but focusing on ways to make her splutter in indignation and step four of his plan is helping him to ground himself.

"That's for me to know and you to find out."

Slowly, he brings her hand up to his mouth and turns it at the last minute, pressing a kiss to her inner wrist. All of a sudden the atmosphere has changed: her breath falters at the contact, her eyes are wide and unblinking as she stares up at him and the expression on her face is enough to obliterate any thoughts from Sebastian's own mind; quite dangerous, really. His earnestness turns into a smirk and he brings his mouth to the palm of her hand, brushing his lips over it. He knows he's pushing things too far and -

"Sebastian!" she squeals, ripping her hand out of his, and Sebastian takes the opportunity to run ahead, "Wait for me!" - laughing as he leads her on an overgrown path towards their destination. He turns to look back at her, face flushed, a huge smile taking over her face, nose crinkling as she laughs, hair and robes flowing behind her as she tries to keep up with him. How has he gotten so lucky as to have her in his life?

He knows that he hasn't always been easy to get along with. Their fifth year, he had made things impossibly difficult for her, for everyone, and yet she had always stayed by his side. Trusting that he would come to his senses and somehow, with her help, he has.

Even with his nerves, he's never felt more sure of anything in his life than what he has planned now.

Sebastian Sallow is a quite perplexing. That's what she thinks, anyways, as she stares down at his broad back. He's bent over a picnic basket that's sitting in a clearing by the shore of the lake. She's never seen this part of the Grounds before and takes some time to look around while Sebastian finishes whatever he's doing.

He couldn't have picked a more beautiful day to sequester her away. Maybe fate has conspired to make it one she will remember for the rest of her life. It's one of those days when nature seems to be singing: the plants vibrantly green and dappled early sunlight filtering through the leaves, birds flitting from branch to branch above them, chattering and chirping to one another. And the lake, oh, the lake is beautiful. Still and unmoving, its water a deep green; she thinks once again (as she has been all of these last days at Hogwarts) how much she loves this, and how much she will miss it.

Sebastian Sallow is also infuriating.

He still hasn't told her why he has brought her all the way here, with a satchel stuffed with bread, making her wake up so early to meet up with him. 'It is of tantamount importance that you are available...' he had written in the note left for her a week ago, but the urgency was unnecessary. Even when she has no idea what he's planned, she can't help but say yes, can't help but want to be close to him always.

The feeling of his breath brushing against the palm of her hand is still burning bright-hot and she is scared to move her fingers lest it go away. Ever since she laced her fingers through his in Charms class two weeks ago, he's been finding excuses to try and get closer to her and she's simultaneously excited and scared every time they touch. This is the first time they've been alone together without her protection - Anne and Ominis - she's unsure if she trusts herself or Sebastian less, but she has to be free of them eventually.

"Well," he says, breaking her out of her reverie, "I think it's all in order." He leans back on his haunches and looks up at her, giving her the small smile that always makes her stomach flutter.

"But what is this all for?"

She gestures at the blanket he's spread out between them, at the baguettes he's pulling out of his bag, and huffs in frustration. She does not like being kept in the dark, and the expectations she had been building in her mind ever since she got his letter were not matching up to whatever's going on.

"We're going to feed the giant squid, silly." Sebastian stands up suddenly, holding one of the baguettes, and launches it into the lake. It floats there for a minute - tiny waves rippling across the smooth water from the impact - and then, as it slowly starts sinking, a huge tentacle shoots out of the water and grabs it, pulling it underneath.

She laughs in delight as she sees more tentacles come up to the surface of the water, searching for more bread. For as much disgust as she had for it her first year at Hogwarts, she's come to grow fond of the giant squid, even sometimes daring to tickle its tentacles with Imelda on sunny afternoons when they need a break from studying.

Now, Sebastian's handing a baguette to her, his fingers brushing against hers and she shivers at the contact, her eyes flicking up to his, uncertain. He doesn't pull away; instead wrapping sure fingers around hers as he guides her to the shore. Her back is flush against his chest as he guides her to throw the baguette, but she doesn't even see it hit the water. The feeling and heat of his body pressed against hers is all-encompassing and she turns around slowly - so slowly - and...

Sebastian brings his fingers up to caress the line of her jaw, then brush over her lips, her cheekbone, tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, tug the hair at her scalp and pull her face closer to his. Her eyes flutter closed as his breath warms her lips - is this really, finally happening? - and the first hesitant, sweet brush of his lips against hers is almost enough to cause her to faint. If his other arm wasn't wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer to him, she's positive she would have fallen as her knees threaten to buckle. Hesitant hands come up to grab the front of Sebastian's robes as their kiss deepens and yet before she knows it - before she wants it to end - Sebastian is pulling away from her with a sheepish smile, pressing his forehead against hers and breathing heavily.

"That was..."

But then -

She feels something slimy snake itself around her ankle, wrapping around before she's pulled backwards into the water with a shriek. She sees Sebastian's shocked face, arms reaching out hands scrabbling as he tries to grab her before she can be pulled into the water, but it's futile.

She's really not dragged that far into the water.

Once the squid realizes she has no more bread on her person, it retreats back to the deeper water it came from.

Maybe she wasn't pulled very far into the lake, but it's still enough to have all of her clothes completely and utterly drenched and she is mortified. As she sputters and staggers to her feet, pushing her heavy, wet hair out of her face, she sees Sebastian splashing towards her.

His face is absolutely flabbergasted and concerned for her and full of love and she forgets all of her annoyance at being wet as she sees him make his way to where she is. "Are you -?"

Sebastian is cut off as she throws herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling his face down to hers as she peppers it with kisses. He almost loses his balance, but quickly recovers and gathers her in his arms, easily returning her vigor. She can't get enough of him; she knows she's being greedy as she deepens their kiss, but she feels as if she's woken from a deep slumber and is alive again.

Her whole body is so, so sensitive: his fingertips feel electric as they dance across her back, her waist, as if they're drawing all of her nerves to wherever they touch. Maybe it's the sensation of her wet clothes dragging across her delicate skin, maybe it's the months of pent-up frustration with herself for not being able to touch him.

He pulls away slightly, laughing, as he takes in her appearance. She must look like a drowned kneazle, hair-wild-face-flushed-eyes-gleaming, and yet there is nothing but love in his eyes when Sebastian looks at her. He grabs her hand and leads her to the shore, where they've left the picnic basket. They're both laughing as they splash through the water, fingers intertwined.

She sits down and begins to unlace her wet boots, peel off her stockings, Sebastian following suit, and once she plops the wet boots down next to her she huffs and looks at him fondly. "Well, was that part of your plan?"

Sebastian shakes his head and he looks so dejected that she simply has to lean over and kiss him. She pulls away slightly, lips brushing against his as she smiles and whispers, "I don't care." The feeling of his breath against her lips is too intoxicating and she simply has to close the minuscule distance between them again. Sebastian seemingly can't help himself either, because in no time his hand comes up to caress her face, her jaw, buries itself in the thick hair at the nape of her neck, and he's deepening the kiss.

She's gasping into his mouth, needing more, remembering the last time they kissed all those months ago - how has it been months? - and she breaks away briefly, staring into his eyes. His pupils are dilated, hers must match - "Sebastian?" she whispers against his lips, "What happened?"

He brings his hand back to her face, eyes searching hers as he looks for some answer she doesn't know if she can provide. "I..." he shakes his head slightly, smiling, "it's not important." As they kiss again, she sighs happily into his mouth - she missed this. Her hands come up to grasp at the back of his head, tugging him, pulling him closer to her, and she deepens the kiss.

She feels her stomach clench in an unfamiliar way as Sebastian gasps into her mouth - "Merlin, I've missed this, I didn't know..." - and she is certain that this will be a moment of her life she will always remember.

She will always remember how he - almost nervously, shy in a way she has never seen him before - brings her to the picnic blanket they'd abandoned. They will laugh as they try to peel her soaking wet clothes off, Sebastian's fingers fumbling as he works the buttons on her blouse; the first tentative brush of his lips against her bare collarbone will make her shiver with anticipation.

They will both be breathless between kisses, between exploring each others' bodies, between the gasps of devotion they breathe to each other. Every drag of Sebastian's fingers down her waist, her hips, will send jolts of pure magic through her body, how could anything feel so good? - and she will arch her back towards him, craving more.

His hands will be everywhere on her skin all at once, her mouth on his mouth, the feelings and sensations burning through her until there is only the two of them in that moment, their limbs tangled and their breathing synchronized as they move together.

It will be needy, and messy, and awkward, and full of laughter. When they join, it will feel like a finally.

And afterwards, when they are lying lazily-peacefully-quietly together, tracing fingers over still-sensitive skin, wrapped up in a haze of love and tangled limbs and feeling at peace, she will notice a bulge in the breast pocket of Sebastian's discarded waistcoat.

He will watch her reach over, curious, a small smile playing on his lips as she pulls out the tiny box. Her breath will catch in her throat and her fingers will be trembling as she tries to open it, before Sebastian takes over and opens it for her.

It won't be the perfect proposal he had planned, but it will be perfect in its own way and tears will be inexplicably falling down her face as she smiles and says 'yes' over and over until it loses meaning.