#lets see... my mc

[mouselikething]

i joke a lot about my obey me mc being a hoe with how many characters i ship him with (romantically or just sexually*) but now i have to wonder...

*what i mean by "just sexual" is that you think your mc would have sexual relations with a character but not a romantic one, like friends with benefits or smth

[myokk]

clumsy

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

word count: 9,1k

summary: sebastian is clumsy

cw: fluff, mutual pining, idiots in love, two really stubborn idiots in love to be exact, sir cadogan guest appearance, anne and imelda are the gremlin best friends every girl needs, smut (18+ ONLY), oral (f. recieving)

a/n: or: two stubborn brats make things more difficult than they have to be. I've been working on this for a MONTH more or less, ever since I drew the sketch that inspired it🫶 (I'm the world's slowest writer)

The first time Sebastian Sallow interacted with her after the fateful events of their fifth year, he fell for her.

Quite literally.

Maybe fell on her is more aptly put - Sebastian Sallow is not one to mince his words or say what he doesn't mean, after all. But, in the years to come, he always insists that he fell in love in that moment.

It was inexplicable. One moment, he was walking around, perfectly content with his loveless, boring life, and the next, his every waking moment was painful. Nobody had ever told Sebastian that being in love would physically pain or consume him so.

It all started like this: one moment, he's walking (well, striding) to Crossed Wands. Fine, he's running. Running late already, for the first meet-up of his last year. But - he isn't to blame for being late. He needed to check on something in the library - during his Transfiguration lesson, he had a hunch about something Professor Weasley had said in passing, and of course he had to go and check to see if he was right before he could even think about besting Leander in the inaugural duel of the Crossed Wands season but now, with how late he is - how many minutes ago had it started? - oh, Merlin, it's already been ten whole minutes and what if they've started without him (not that he can blame them) and -

Sebastian is abruptly pulled out of his thoughts when he collides with a strange obstruction in his way. He was just checking his father's old pocket watch, had only looked away for a split second and he could have sworn that, unless he was mistaken (which he never is), there wasn't a statue in the middle of the suspension bridge. And yet, he has run headfirst into something or someone, and now they are both flying through the air, books whirling around them in a flurry of pages and Sebastian unconsciously puts his arms out to grab her before they hit the ground and now he's holding her tight against him and they land with a loud, ungraceful thud, but at least she's not hurt.

Sebastian shakes his head to clear it after the impact that - miraculously - doesn't seem to have been as bad as it could have been, all things considered, and -

He freezes.

What has he done?

He's pressed up against the most impossibly lovely person he has ever seen quite possibly in his life, holding her tightly in his arms as she glares up at him in indignation, a faint flush spreading across her cheeks, making her face glow. Is this what the muggles mean when they say that they were struck by Cupid's arrow? Her hands scrabble uselessly at his chest as she tries to extricate herself from his grip. It's useless. Sebastian is completely frozen in place as he stares down at her, and he can feel his own face heating up at his inability to get off her. What's wrong with him?

"Sebastian," she repeats, and this time her voice registers in his brain. He realizes she has been talking to him this whole time, and as he stares at her face without comprehending - he couldn't have a coherent thought right now even if he wanted to - he sees her eyes dart quickly down, looking at where their bodies meet before she brings them back to his face, a deeper blush coming over her. "You -"

Oh, Merlin. It's her. He blinks and it's like the fog has cleared from his mind - almost, but-not-quite - and he realizes who he has unceremoniously crashed to the ground with him. The spines of the textbooks they are lying on top of dig into the arm that's pinned under her body and his other hand...he realizes (to his almost-horror) that to any students or professors walking by, it would seem as if they were caught up in quite the scandalous extra-curricular activity because his other hand is actively caressing her breast. Well, that's how it would look to any passerby, anyways.

Because there is no way he would be caught dead in such a compromising position with her.

The two of them haven't spoken since the events of their fifth year - the Year-That-Shall-Not-Be-Remembered-or-Acknowledged - and he had been perfectly content with his plan to continue this strange sort of ignoring that they had played all last year. Both of them pretending that they hadn't become impossibly close after only knowing each other for a few months - a closeness that he had gone and ruined by not knowing when to quit. All he had known to do back then was push push push because why couldn't she see things the way he had? The betrayal he had felt when she had gone behind his back to find her own way to cure his sister, and that one stupid word uttered in the heat of the moment, had caused an irreparable rift in their relationship and he would not allow himself to think about how much he missed her. Still misses her.

Just like he will not think about the fact that she is pressed beneath him in a compromising position, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she glares up at him in indignation. He continues to stare at her. Maybe his mouth is agape. She's stopped trying to get out of his grip and is resting her hands on his chest, seemingly waiting for an opportunity to push him off of her.

"Sebastian. Your hand," she repeats. "You're -"

Finally his idiot brain decides to wake up and Sebastian realizes with horror just how aroused he is at the moment and how did he never see her like this before? He gets up in a flash, pushing her back against the pile of books they're lying on top of, wondering if he can subtly adjust his robes without her realizing and then he makes the very grave mistake of looking down at her and she's still very much red-faced, propping herself up by her elbows and she looks so disheveled and lovely lying on top of the pile of books.

His idiot brain has now woken up completely, and how is it possible for one hormonal, eighteen-year-old wizard to be so embarrassed? He knocked her to the ground, pushed her further back in the books in his desperate attempt to get away from her, and now all he can think about is how to hide his arousal. Shameful, really. Sebastian quickly crouches down to help her pick up all of the books but she shoves him away and glares at him with an annoyance that he's never seen before.

"I can do it myself, thank you very much," she says with a huff, gathering everything they spilled up into her arms. She grabs the book Sebastian is holding out of his hands and he inhales sharply at the touch of her fingers grazing his.

Did someone - Garreth, maybe - spike his pumpkin juice with Amortentia during lunch? It's the only explanation he can think of as he stares blankly down at her. How else would he find her so beautiful, so breathtaking, when the last time they had interacted, Ominis and Anne had had to act as intermediaries for the two of them?

"Well," she says finally, slinging her school bag over her shoulder once all of her books have been unceremoniously shoved inside of it, "it's been...nice seeing you again, Sallow. I hope you had a good summer holiday."

And with that, she quickly turns and walks away in the direction she had been coming from, leaving a very confused Sebastian behind. He watches her as she walks away and her long, swishing braid is the last thing he sees before the door closes behind her at the far end of the bridge.

Eventually, he gathers his wits and wanders away.

He does not go to the first Crossed Wands meeting that afternoon after all.

She has not had a full-night's sleep since he somehow cursed her mind and her thoughts a week ago, and she can feel herself slowly slipping into insanity. A curse is the only answer that makes sense, the only thing that gives a conceivable answer to all the wicked dreams she has been having since that moment, dreams that cause her to wake up sweaty and breathless and needing him in the middle of the night in a way she has never felt before. She has been an absolute mess, a disastrous version of her normally quite put-together self, and she is not happy about it.

He's sitting next to her now - they were partnered up by the evil Professor Onai in their first NEWT Divination class of the year - and she's holding herself rigidly, arms tight across her chest, in an attempt to not accidentally touch him. Lately, every single time they make fleeting eye contact across the table during breakfast, or when they pass each other in the hallways, a shiver runs down her spine at the unfamiliar look in his eyes and she has to avert her eyes before it's too much.

Divination has never been a favorite subject of hers - too impermeable for her tastes. She is only taking it at the NEWT level because, during her career counseling with Professor Ronen at the end of her fifth year, he had said that if she wanted to be an Unspeakable she couldn't just work with logic (a preposterous thought, but as a sixteen-year-old she hadn't seen any recourse in arguing with the Ministry's requirements). She supposedly needs to get comfortable with the intangible as well. It doesn't mean she has to enjoy it, though: she doesn't, and never will. The Divination classroom is dark and stuffy, tucked away in one of the highest towers of the castle, and the nauseating smell of incense always coats her nasal cavities long after the class has finished. She finds her thoughts getting muddled in the haze of candle smoke and swirling orbs on the shelves around her - magic somehow always feels thicker up here - and the presence of a certain someone whose knees keep brushing hers under the tiny table they're sharing, a certain someone who has - improbably, inconceivably, impossibly - hit a growth spurt that summer and now towers over her and had encompassed her completely when he knocked her to the ground, isn't helping her concentration at -

"This week, we are going to review everything we learned together last year," Professor Onai says, after the class had rearranged itself based on her instructions. Sebastian shoots a look at her as she shakes her head in an attempt to clear it and sits up straighter. She hopes that Onai's lecture will help her concentrate and clear her mind a bit. If she has something to focus on, to try and think of and remember, it will be better than him. Anything would be better than Sebastian. Onai gives an appraising look to each table before continuing her speech. "As your NEWTs are at the end of the year, we need to make sure you are as prepared as possible. Open your books to page two-hundred and thirty. Today we're going to review the art of palmistry. I should hope that you do not need the aid of your textbook to help interpret the lines in your partner's palm but in the case that you do -"

She chances a glance at Sebastian before getting out her copy of Divining the Undivinable from her bag and wishes she hadn't. He looks uncomfortably big sitting on the tiny tea chair across from her, barely any hints of the boy who had completely swept her away two years ago visible on the sharper planes of his face. When had he - had they - grown up?

Sebastian Sallow was - is - charming, and that had been her downfall. She had successfully avoided his charms the year before, and she wasn't going to let that happen this year, no matter how much her body rebelled against her mind and resolve. Because, as she reminds herself, Sebastian Sallow is also manipulative, and cold-hearted, and selfish.

"Well," she says archly, opening her book. She will not look at him. "I suppose I am still quite ignorant of the practice of Divination, so do forgive me if I have to double-check my readings in the textbook."

He says her name as she opens the book, and she ignores him. He says her name again. She continues to ignore him. He grabs the book from her hands and puts it the correct way for her. She was looking at it upside-down. Her cheeks heat up and she continues flipping through the pages, as if nothing has happened. She finds page two-hundred and thirty. She pretends to be interested in what she sees.

(Divination is unfortunately not interesting.)

Oh, fine.

"Do you want to start, or should I?"

These are the first words she has voluntarily spoken to him - not including the events of last week, which do not count as they were most decidedly not voluntary - since he called her ignorant a year and a half ago. He somehow looks surprised to see that she has addressed him, and for some reason this fills her with rage and a strange sort of confidence. Why shouldn't she be able to talk to him?

"Here," she says, putting her hand out towards him, palm up, ignoring the strange fluttering feeling in her chest when he gently grabs it with one of his. Sebastian looks up at her, waiting for her to continue speaking, and were she not looking at him so intently she would have easily missed the bob of his throat as he swallows nervously. "Show me how it's done."

Her breath catches in her throat at the small, mischievous smirk he shoots to her before he bends over her hand and gently starts tracing the lines on her palm with the fingers of the hand that's not holding hers in place. His touch is feather-light and somehow soft, despite the roughness of his fingers as they drag over her palm. Every nerve in her body seems to have moved to wherever he touches and all of the bravado and anger she had just felt is quickly melting away. When she finally finds her voice, she hates how soft and breathy it sounds. She can't look away from the sight of his larger hands caressing hers.

"Well? What do you see? Do you remember the different lines? Because I -"

She falters. The murmurs of their classmates blend together in the background and the dim lights of the candles...the hazy, thick atmosphere and his proximity and the barely there touches of his rough fingertips on her sensitive palm are altogether too overwhelming and she needs to get out of there. She's supposed to be angry with him. Furious, even. Holding this grudge has been the only way she has been able to have any sort of power over him this past year, and yet...all she can think about at the moment are the sinful dreams she's been having lately where he presses her against a wall, desperately kissing her lips, her neck - even she knows that there has to be more to it - but what?

Sebastian blinks as she snatches her hand away like it's been burned and - oh, Merlin - she shoves the textbook back into her schoolbag and almost knocks the candle on the table over and wouldn't it be awful if she had started a fire? But she can't think about any of that now in her haste to just get out of the claustrophobic Divination tower.

Vaguely, she can hear Professor Onai asking her if everything is fine and she's not sure but she thinks she mumbles something about needing to go to the Hospital Wing - that's a good enough excuse to leave, isn't it? - but then she hears his voice, deep and cutting through the fog in her mind -

"Don't worry, I'll take her and make sure she gets there fine." A muffled response from their professor and then his voice, just as clear as before. "No, I don't know what happened..."

She hears him calling her name as she flees down the spiral staircase, almost tripping over her feet in her rush to get away from him, but he catches up quickly, reaching out to grab her arm in an attempt to slow her down. She stops running immediately - she supposes her traitorous body wants to see what he has to say, or maybe it just wants to bask in his intoxicating proximity. He crowds her space, and she sees that unfamiliar look in his eyes again. So very different from the cold disdain she had seen the last time she had been this close to him, during the argument that had ended their friendship.

"Let go of me," she whispers, but there's no conviction in her voice as she gazes into his deep, brown eyes. He can tell she doesn't mean it and doesn't make any move to listen to her. Why can't she hold on to the rage? A muggle quote about anger floats through her mind: Holding on to anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die. What a sweet poison her anger at Sebastian had been, while it lasted. She tries telling herself that he must still feel the same as the evening he had called her ignorant (ignoring the small voice in her head that reminded her of the letters of apology he had sent (that she had burned without reading), the times he had tried to get Anne or Ominis involved and apologize for him) - because why couldn't he just tell her himself? Maybe she had shut down any and all attempts he had made to repair the rift that he had caused in the first place, but she had been right to be so angry with him.

But oh, Merlin, he's getting closer to her, and she can now clearly see the freckles dusting his cheeks and nose and forehead and then before she knows it, his hand is sliding up her arm, leaving goosebumps everywhere he touches and then he's caressing her jaw with his rough thumb and he pauses. Her eyelids flutter closed as her head tilts towards him - she couldn't stop herself even if she wanted to (what does she want?). She can feel his warm breath ghosting over her lips and she has the improbable, ridiculous thought - how is he remembering to breathe? - before he speaks. His lips brush against hers with every soft word and a deep shiver runs through her body.

"I," she hears him say, his voice so, so low, "haven't been able to think since last week."

That's all she needs to hear, the brush of his bottom lip against hers all she needs to feel, to push her into closing what minuscule distance there is between them and then his lips are on hers and it's better than anything she's been imagining. His mouth is soft against hers, insistent, and her hands go up to grip the collar of his plaid jacket to make sure he doesn't go away or disappear on her.

She knows she's behaving wantonly, snogging Sebastian Sallow in the middle of the hallway where anyone could come across them, but third period has only just started and besides, she has had a week of restless nights being tortured by thoughts of him. A week of a few hours of sleep found here and there. Just one kiss should be enough to help her get over these strange feelings, right? She only feels like this because having him lie on top of her after he crashed into her - that satisfying weight of him - the friction of his thumb brushing against her nipple - had made her realize just how stupid she had been, holding this grudge against him for -

She whimpers in protest but it quickly turns into a moan as his mouth moves away from hers and down to her neck. He pulls at her tight collar desperately - she hears some seams ripping - to give him better access to it, and she finds herself arching her back and pushing her body closer to his as he nuzzles her neck with his nose before giving it open, sloppy kisses. When he hears her, he moves back to kissing her, greedily capturing every breathy moan that comes out of her mouth, but the noises coming from him are matching hers, and at the sound she feels an unfamiliar clenching deep in her stomach. Her fingers come up to his hair, going through the silky curls over and over - how are they as soft as his lips? - and he slowly pushes her back until she's sandwiched between his warm body and the cold stone of the wall behind her.

He lets out a low, frantic growl as a hand goes to grip the back of her head, holding her in place as he slants his mouth over hers. He tastes like cinnamon and...like something forbidden. What has gotten into her? She hates him, and yet...

They have abandoned any pretense of propriety - had they ever even been trying? - by this point. His tongue swipes across her lips and then she is completely lost to him, to every sensation of his mouth, and tongue, on hers. His large hands - the wicked hands that had been caressing her palm and had caused this whole mess in the first place - have moved to her waist and are pulling her even closer to him. When he pulls away briefly, she whines in protest, opening her eyes to glare at him. The sight of him, flushed and breathless, his eyes wide and pupils dilated - must match her own appearance because she sees the same hunger she feels in his eyes. She has never seen Sebastian Sallow so disheveled, but she finds she quite likes it and tugs on his curls with a whine. He obliges eagerly, bringing his mouth back to hers.

She's pressed as tightly against him as she can possibly be, and yet it still isn't enough. Her back arches once again, trying to find something, and then he slots one of his knees between her legs. She moans at the friction caused by his movements, can feel an unfamiliar slickness forming at the juncture between her legs, and this seems to spur him on further as his kisses get more desperate and sloppy. She moves against his leg, trying to relieve some of her discomfort, gasping into his mouth, when -

They freeze. Even if they are fully, completely, absorbed by...whatever this is, they can't ignore the strange, metallic clanking sound coming from their left. Sebastian pulls his head back from her slowly, reluctantly, breathing heavily, and looks over to see what the noise is. She wants to, but all of a sudden the horrifying reality of what they've been doing sinks in and oh god what if the noise is a person? Someone who has now seen her in what might possibly be the most mortifying moment of her life - desperately snogging Sebastian Sallow - and she finds she can't look over. She tucks her head into his neck to hide her face as she listens.

"I demand that you get away from her at once, you knave! Cease your attack!"

The voice sounds vaguely familiar, but she's certain that it doesn't belong to any of her classmates. He almost sounds...medieval, but -

"I made haste when I heard sounds of distress coming from down the hallway," the voice continues, "and it appears I have arrived not a moment too soon!"

She brings her head away from Sebastian's shoulder but still refuses to look over at whoever is speaking, instead choosing to stare at Sebastian's face. He's still deliciously flushed from their snogging, still breathing heavily, but now he looks terribly confused. His brows are furrowed, mouth opening and closing as he tries to come up with a response to the outrage currently being directed at him.

The unknown man is continuing his diatribe, almost not even stopping to breathe as he gets more and more worked up, and she hears some more clanking as he reaches a particularly exciting moment in his rant. Sebastian looks increasingly confused, but still shields her with his body, not moving away from her at all despite the accusations.

Her curiosity gets the better of her and she peeks over to see who it is.

The man who has been reprimanding Sebastian so boldly is none other than Sir Cadogan. Although she's never interacted with him directly, she often hears him yelling at his pony as she passes his portrait on her way to Divination. The knight is standing between two witches having tea, who are glaring at him quite angrily as he gesticulates wildly - every movement of his sword comes dangerously close to their display of cakes and sandwiches and it looks like he has already broken some plates. His armor is ill-fitting and loose on him, which explains the terrible noise.

"You rascally knave! I assure you that you do not want to find out what will happen to you if you do not unhand the fair maiden."

He brandishes his sword again, and the woman closest to him quickly snatches her tea cup away to save it from being broken as well. "Come now, Sir Cadogan," she says, exasperated. "Can't you see that these two are in love?"

The other woman joins her protests, nodding vigorously. "Yes, exactly that. Leave them be!"

"Nonsense," he exclaims. "I too have succumbed to my baser instincts on occasion and I can assure you that this is decidedly not what is occurring."

As Sir Cadogan continues to alternate between lecturing her and Sebastian, and directing his two attention to the ladies who are defending them, she looks back to the boy in question. Sebastian is looking down at her, a bemused smile on his lips and she feels a twinge in her chest. His face is still so close to hers that if she wants to, they could be snogging again with barely any effort and her eyes briefly flicker down to his tempting mouth before going back to his eyes, but...

What had gotten into her? What is she doing?

He had somehow managed to manipulate her again, because there is no way that this situation could have happened otherwise. All of a sudden, the anger she's been feeling for the past year and a half - that had left for a brief, blissful moment - surges again, and she pushes Sebastian away from her with as much force as she can muster. She almost feels bad as the happiness in his face turns to confusion, then frustration as he realizes she's getting away from him.

"Stay away from me," she hisses, picking up her discarded schoolbag from its spot on the ground. As she stalks down the hall, she can hear Sir Cadogan cheering on her bravery over the ringing in her ears.

She has a lot of thinking to do.

Sebastian Sallow's List of Priorities (in no particular order):

Figure out what the hell I'm going to do when I graduate;

Figure out how the hell I'm going to finish this bloody Charms essay before tomorrow; and

Figure out what the hell is going on between us

Sebastian sits in an undisturbed corner of the library - nobody ever comes to this table because it's tucked away between shelves of incredibly dense magical theory books - and is twirling his quill in his fingers, watching the ink splatter on the list he spent his precious time writing instead of the Charms essay he should be working on. He's far away from the first-years who like to congregate by the windows and watch the leaves fall softly to the ground rather than study for their classes. He's made especially sure that he is far, far away from her.

It's not his choice, mind you, but he needs to be a gentleman about these things. If she needs some time and space to figure out that she's as crazy for him as he is her, fine. But even Sebastian Sallow's patience runs thin, and he's not sure how much longer he can give her to come to her senses before he snaps and takes matters into his own hands. If things were up to him, the two of them would be sitting far too close together now in this secluded corner, and maybe he would need to put a hand over her mouth to ensure her complete silence as he runs a hand up her thigh.

Now that he knows what delicious sounds can come out of her mouth - sounds that he caused - he's been having a hard time concentrating on, well, anything. Sebastian surreptitiously glances across the library to where she's sitting and studying with his sister and Imelda. Ever since the events after their Divination class, Sir Cadogan has taken it upon himself to follow Sebastian around the halls of the castle, tripping through frames and disrupting their inhabitants as he lectures Sebastian on love. The tea party women had managed to convince the knight that he had disrupted an amorous exchange, and Sebastian fervently wishes they hadn't.

The whole school is abuzz with rumors about who it could be. Nobody has even come close so far with their guesses, but Anne and Imelda are having too much fun teasing him about it. Somehow, she has managed to avoid suspicion - he wonders how this is even possible, since she's never been able to hide what she's thinking. He makes eye contact with her - has she been staring at him this whole time? - and she flushes before looking over to Imelda, who's laughing too loudly at something Anne's just said. Sebastian can't tear his eyes away from her profile, his eyes following the curve of her eyebrow, the slight upturn of her lips as she smiles at her friends, her eyes as they dart back to him, her cheeks as she turns an even darker shade of red as she realizes he's still watching her. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, and rests her chin on her hand as she tries to look absorbed in what Anne is saying to her.

Sebastian wonders if she's thought about him as much as he's thought about her. Judging by how she had snogged him back, he's positive that she feels the same way, but then he remembers how she had looked at him before she fled, and he's not so sure. He sighs as he looks back to his list, bringing his quill back to the third item and ripping the paper as he crosses it out again. His mind has been going in circles since that moment and he doesn't know what to think. He slowly puts everything into his schoolbag before heading out of the library for yet another freezing cold shower that hopefully tempers his now-permanent state of arousal whenever she's around.

He doesn't notice her eyes following him as he walks out of the library.

He doesn't hear her hurried excuse to Anne and Imelda as she shoves her things into her bag and rushes to follow him.

He doesn't hear her light footsteps as she gets closer to him.

When she puts a hand out to touch his arm as he waits for the moving staircase to stop, with a soft, "Sebastian" accompanying it, he nearly jumps out of his skin. He was so absorbed with thoughts of her, that to see her standing at his side, closer than she had been since they kissed was almost his snapping point.

"Can we talk?" she asks, looking almost embarrassed as she avoids his eyes. She instead looks determinedly at his collar. He thinks she probably notices that he swallows nervously before acquiescing, but she says nothing as she turns and starts hurrying away from him without waiting to see if he follows her.

She must know that he would follow her anywhere at this point.

They weave through hallways - Sebastian vaguely wonders where exactly they're going - before reaching a little alcove, hidden by a suit of armor. She looks around before pulling him into it. It's almost curfew and the halls are never that busy when the weather is as beautiful as it has been these days - the end of September seems to be clinging on to the summer for as long as possible.

Her lips are on his before he can even ask her what she needed to talk with him about, hungry and desperate. Sebastian is too stunned to pull away - not that he would actually want to. Her arms wrap around his neck, keeping Sebastian close, slender fingers sliding through his hair.

"What," she says breathlessly between kisses - almost not even moving her mouth away from his enough to be able to enunciate properly, "are you doing to me? I haven't been able to think for the last month."

Sebastian smiles into her mouth, wondering if she knows that she's repeating the very thing he told her two weeks ago. Maybe she has been thinking of him all this time - he almost hopes that she's been suffering as much as he has. Instead of responding, he moves a hand to cup her jaw, deepening the kiss. His other hand moves to her waist, gripping it tightly, pulling her flush against his body and she gasps into his mouth. He slowly moves her closer to the window alcove behind them, snogging her senseless the whole time. She moans into his mouth which just spurs him on further - her skirt rides up to her hips as Sebastian trails a hand up her stockinged thigh and they both gasp when his hand reaches skin. Her skin is so, so soft and her breathing gets faster as he continues to caress her inner thigh, closer to the bend between her thigh and her center. Sebastian wonders if she's ever been touched there before by someone else and jealousy flares up inside of him at the thought.

In one swift move, he scoops her up and places her so that she's sitting on the window-ledge, the dusky light of the sunset illuminating her from behind and making her wispy flyaway hairs a golden halo around her. Sebastian's breath catches in his throat - has he ever seen anything so beautiful as her in that moment? - she's staring up at him, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, her breathing shallow and anticipation in her eyes. "You're," he starts saying and his throat goes dry. He brings a hand up to tuck the errant lock of hair - the one she had tucked earlier in the library - behind her ear and she leans her head into his touch, closing her eyes briefly before looking up at him again with wide eyes. "You're perfect."

She smiles faintly and pulls his head back down towards hers and now she's brushing her lips against his, teasing him, before it's too much and he grips the back of her head, holding her in place as he crushes his mouth against hers in a bruising kiss. Her knees are on either side of his waist, and she desperately grinds her core against his throbbing erection and they both groan at the friction. Sebastian moves his hands down to her thighs again as he kisses her, slowly caressing his way up and pushing her skirt up further until it's completely bunched around her waist. She gasps into his mouth at his first tentative touch after he pushes aside her undergarments. Sebastian swipes a finger up her slit, through the slick that coats it, and then he starts circling her clit with slow, even strokes. She shivers against him - at his touch - clinging tightly to his shoulders and gasping into his mouth as he continues.

Every little noise coming out of her mouth, feeling how wet she is, how the slickness keeps growing growing growing makes Sebastian hungry for more - it isn't enough -

Slowly - so slowly - he wants to savor this moment - he lowers himself until he's kneeling between her legs and he looks up at her. Her face is deliciously flushed, all swollen lips and hair in a wild cloud around her face and all she can do is stare down at him. Her chest is heaving and she tries to close her legs - hide what is exposed to him - but he holds her thighs firmly in place on either side of his head. He turns his head and kisses her inner thigh, maintaining eye contact as he swipes his tongue across where he's just kissed, moving closer towards her slick center.

"Oh," she breathes, not-quite-a-word, not-quite-a-gasp, when his mouth reaches her center and hovers over it, lips slowly teasing her the way she had just teased him. Sebastian tentatively runs his tongue up her slit; the loud moan she lets out when he reaches her clit makes him stay there, applying light and not-so-light pressure in equal measure.

Her hands are scrabbling at his hair, digging into his scalp, ruining his earlier attempts to make it look presentable, hopefully attractive, for her these days. She's pushing his head deeper into the space between her legs, starting to rock herself slightly on his mouth, and Sebastian is happy to oblige. He eagerly laps up her slit, and the obscene wet noises as he continues combined with her whimpers and barely-spoken profanities "oh-yes-fuck-yes-there-please-" are making him hard beyond belief. He's straining against his trousers, begging to be let free. Without moving his face from her, he unbuttons his trousers and starts palming himself, using the slickness weeping out of the tip as lubrication.

She's abandoned all control at this point, grinding herself into his face as he laps her up, and it's driving him wild - knowing that he's doing this to her - causing her to be so undone. Normally she's so poised and aloof, never letting any real emotion flicker across her face, so to see her so desperate and needy and wanting him so -

Sebastian's gasping into her, tongue deep inside of her, "ohmygod" he hears her whisper, her hips driving into his face when she shudders and goes still, pulsing around the tongue that's deep inside of it. He slows down, smiling as he continues to run his tongue up her slit until she's responsive again. He kisses her inner thigh and hears her moan before getting up, caressing a finger down her love-struck face and leaning his head down to kiss her deeply. With his other hand he's still touching himself - the thought that she can taste herself on his tongue driving him crazy - and he starts rubbing its blunt head against her swollen clit. She takes it out of his hand- he groans at the feeling of her soft hands (the hands he had held a week ago in Divination and pictured doing this exact thing) tentatively caressing his length before she begins to slide it up and down her slit, coating it in her wetness.

Sebastian has surrendered all control to her - resting his hands on either side of her hips on the windowsill, tucking his head into the crook of her neck and thrusting with her movements as he loses himself in the sensation of sliding through her slick folds. He can feel his release building building building, and when he finally comes, all over her perfect, pink center, it feels like a finally.

Sebastian feels so, so heavy as he pulls his head away from her shoulder, as if he could fall into a blissful sleep right there, in the little window alcove where they've hidden themselves away. The sun has now set completely and they're in shadow as they stare at each other, the sound of their ragged breathing filling the tiny space.

"Sebastian, I..."

She's staring at him with an unfathomable expression on her face, still holding him in her hand, her other hand playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. They look down and he feels his face heat up even more at the mess he's made - he quickly pulls out his wand and cleans her up, before looking back at her, giving her a wry smile as he buttons up his pants and helps her off the ledge. "What did you want to talk to me about, again?"

She gives a slight shake of her head and looks away, but she can't hide the small smile that's growing on her face just like she can't help her eyes that keep wandering over to his. He knows the growing smile on his face matches hers - did that really just happen? She reaches over to lace her fingers through his as they walk around the suit of armor. "I - it's not important."

"Come on," he says, not being able to resist the opportunity to tease her - he's somehow managed to break through the barriers she's set up around her, and he's not about to let the opportunity slide. "Surely that's not what you had in mind when you..."

Sebastian trails off as he sees the expression in her face turn to one of horror - he didn't think his teasing was that bad, was it? - but she's also pulling her hand out of his like she's been burned and -

He follows her gaze, to where it's fixed at the end of the hallway and he knows that once again his face mimics hers. He will never live this down.

Standing at the end of the hallway and looking like two cats who've just found a huge dish of milk, are his sister and Imelda.

Misery.

Complete and utter misery are what she's feeling, if she has to put it into words, which she does. Writing things down always helps her out, helps her organize her thoughts into some sort of order. Except...this time around, it's not really helping. She can't seem to make any sense of her feelings for Sebastian.

She looks over the muddled mess of words she's written down - stream of consciousness, incomprehensible babble - and sighs. She's been dreaming of falling in love since she was a young girl - Jane Austen will do that to you - and can't believe that now that she's had her opportunity, it has to go and be with Sebastian Sallow. Because it has to be love, hasn't it?

There can be no other explanation for the painful way her stomach twists itself up whenever she catches a glimpse of him these days, the way he's consuming her every thought - even when she's dreaming she can't escape him. She can't get the sight of his tousled curls between her legs, his mischievous, warm brown eyes looking up at her as she had the most mind-numbing, toe-curling orgasm of her life - none of the times she's touched herself have ever come close to the sensations he managed to evoke.

Every time she's walking through the hallways between classes and hears his loud voice as he jokes with Garreth, or Ominis, about quidditch or Merlin-knows-what her eyes snap to his face as if he were the sun, and she a sunflower searching for its warmth. And he is most decidedly not the sun. He has the tendency to snort when he laughs, and he laughs too much, especially at his own jokes. Sometimes he talks while he eats. He always twirls his quill between his long fingers in the most annoying way, splattering ink onto any parchment unfortunate to be caught underneath. But he also...

He also always goes out of his way to prepare Ominis's Potions ingredients (why Ominis decided to take and was accepted into NEWT level is a mystery to everyone), occasionally stops to play a round of gobstones with Zenobia when he has the time. Sebastian can often be found in his favorite armchair in the Slytherin common room, resting his face on his hand as he idly flips through the pages of some book, looking altogether too handsome as he does so. And when he stretches and yawns at the end of every Arithmancy lesson - like he is now - his shirt lifts up a bit and she can see a tan sliver of his stomach and -

Snapping in front of her: she blinks and looks over: when she sees it's Imelda her face immediately turns beet red and she grabs the paper she's been doodling on and rips it to shreds as fast as she can.

"Are you fantasizing about a certain annoying someone?" Imelda asks with a wicked grin, dramatically looking over her shoulder at the certain someone in question. He's still stretching, blinking sleepily; when he notices the two girls watching him he flushes deeply. Her stomach twinges again at the sight of him noticing her - has he thought about her since that moment as much as she has? What would she do if he had? Or...if he hadn't? - and she focuses instead on the paper she is currently destroying.

"Imelda," she hisses, glaring at her best friend, "stop."

Imelda does not stop.

Imelda doesn't stop during their walk to Herbology, and she does not stop as they set up their planting stations, and she most certainly does not stop as they mutter charms over their plants.

Ever since she experienced the most wonderful moment in her whole life, followed by the most mortifying, Anne and Imelda have not stopped pestering her about it. They've finally solved the 'Sir Cadogan Puzzle' - I knew it was you all along, claims Anne - but if they truly knew what had happened between her and Sebastian, she's afraid the two of them would simply combust. She loves them dearly, but they never know when to stop, and they've been pushing and poking and prodding her for more information the whole week. She has managed to remain tight-lipped and, she hopes, mysterious about the whole thing, but she's getting tired of the teasing.

"Really," Anne says, wiping her forehead and leaving a trail of dirt behind, "if you would only talk to him, I would stop bothering you. Promise."

"Yes," chimes in Imelda, on her other side, wrestling the leaves of her own plant into submission. "You know, after we saw the two of you holding hands and looking at each other with stars in your eyes, I'm really starting to doubt that you hate him as much as you claim."

"Were the two of you snogging in secret all of last year too? Because, I'm starting to get annoyed thinking of all the times I had to talk to my brother for you because of your stubborn pride."

Does she still hate him? She certainly thinks she should, but then her thoughts get terribly confusing as she continues to think about him, and she realizes all of her old hatred has long since faded. Anne has forgiven her brother, Ominis has forgiven him, and all that remains is her.

They should talk, but she doesn't know what to say.

She's afraid that maybe the man she's been inventing in her mind this past month is simply a figment of her imagination - a fictitious being created by an accumulation of stolen glances when he doesn't know she's watching, someone who all of their classmates seem to like, someone who is very different from the fifteen-year-old boy she had that terrible argument with all that time ago. Maybe he doesn't actually exist.

She would be crushed if he's hiding the fact that he still holds on to that desperate darkness that had driven him to save Anne by any means necessary.

And so she keeps her space. She watches him from afar, feeling the hatred slowly melt off of her, falling more in love every day, but too cowardly to make the next move.

Anne and Imelda continue bantering on either side of her, not noticing - or, more likely, not caring - that she isn't participating.

Sebastian's hands are sweating. He wipes them on the inside of his robes as he glances at the girl next to him. She's holding herself rigidly, but she did this to herself, sitting next to him at dinner as she had.

Well, sitting next to him hadn't been completely her idea if he's being honest. He'd been having dinner with Anne, and the two of them were dying of laughter as she recounted seeing Duncan Hobhouse get tormented by Peeves earlier that day. One moment, Anne had been demonstrating what she had seen using her potatoes and green beans as props, and the next, a particularly evil grin had lit up her face as she pushed her plate away with gusto and jumped to her feet, calling her over.

"It would be such a shame for these potatoes to go to waste, seeing as I have a very important meeting to attend," Anne had said, after pushing her friend into the very tight space at Sebastian's side. "Never mind the mess, I can assure you I didn't actually eat the food..."

And with that, Anne had flounced away, Imelda on her arm, the two girls cackling to each other as they snuck wicked glances over their shoulders at the couple.

A couple who is now steadfastly avoiding each other and trying their hardest not to even brush elbows. Sebastian is altogether too aware of her presence, has been for the better part of a month, and his patience is dangerously close to snapping. He keeps getting maddeningly close to finally getting her to open up to him - had actually achieved it for a few blissful moments - just to have it be taken away again. It's almost embarrassing how many times he's thought about their encounter. She had been everything he'd been dreaming about and more - soft, responsive, just as desperate as him - so why has she been avoiding him so thoroughly?

Yes, he's caught her staring at him more times than he can count, with that same unfathomable expression she had before, almost dreamy - wistful - could it be love? But he knows that it's preposterous, wishful thinking on his part. If it were love - if she felt the same crazy, tumultuous emotions that he was feeling constantly - she wouldn't be so cold towards him. Even if she was staring at him more than ever before.

He doesn't notice as she slips a folded paper into the book sitting next to his plate, but he does notice that she sits next to him for barely five minutes, not even touching the food that Anne has so graciously left her, before she gets up and slips away without so much as speaking a single word to him, or even looking in his direction at all.

Sebastian's sitting in a nearly empty common room after curfew, flipping through his book as he normally does this time of day, when she sees him pause.

Although she's been waiting for this moment, watching him from the corner she's tucked herself away in, she feels ready to pass out from nerves. Her heart's ready to burst out of her chest as she watches him curiously pick up the letter she slipped in his book earlier, brow furrowed. She wrings her hands nervously as she watches him read the letter and flip over the page to see if there's more, and then he goes back to read it again from the beginning.

She wasn't expecting him to read it a second time, let alone a third time, still with an inscrutable expression on his face. Maybe she should have positioned herself closer so she could see every emotion flickering through his face as he reads - she's too far away to see anything and she curses her lack of foresight. If she moves now, he'll see her, and she doesn't even know what she was thinking when she wrote the letter, when she managed to convince Anne to help her get close to Sebastian earlier that night during supper, when she moved herself to sit in this corner just so she could watch him find and read the -

"Hello."

She nearly jumps out of her skin with a muffled shriek at the sound of his voice so close to her. Why does she feel almost guilty when she looks up at him? She's so, so afraid.

Emotions have never come easily to her. Showing them is something she's not sure will ever come naturally - Anne and Imelda can laugh and shout without a care in the world, but she always holds herself back. Hides a small part of herself away, that only she knows about. Baring herself completely to Sebastian in the letter she feverishly wrote the day before was like ripping out a part of her soul and giving it to him to keep. Once the words were written down, there was no way to take them back, not that she wants to.

But what if he rejects her?

Her eyes get hot and tears cloud her vision as she stares up at him, still wringing her hands together over and over, feeling like she's positively going to burst with the force of the emotions roiling around inside of her. Why did she think this would be a good idea?

Now he's kneeling in front of her, holding her hands in his bigger, rougher ones - reminiscent of that fateful day so long ago in Divination when he had flustered her so - and a thumb is gently wiping away the big, fat tears she didn't even realize were rolling down her cheeks and she lifts her face from watching their intertwined hands and gazes tremulously into his eyes.

They are so, so gentle and warm and full of love, but the emotions are still too much for her and she can't stop crying for some unfathomable reason, so the kiss they share is wet and lovely and full of incredulous laughter.

"I love you too," he whispers between kisses, over and over again, until the words almost lose meaning - but these words could never lose their meaning when they come from him.

  In the years to come, they always bicker about who was the first to say it. Sebastian says that writing doesn't count - that his words are the ones that decide who is the victor in this small argument - but she always just smiles at his insistence, knowing that he's kept her letter tucked inside whatever book he's reading since it first fell onto his lap.

[felassan]

"As we go through it we will find fragments of the past, things that Solas did previously that will give us insight into him as a character, and also into the elven gods and their motivations. If you go exploring in the Crossroads there are opportunities to relive some of the memories Solas had during his rebellion. We will actually get to take part in this ancient rebellion."

I cast Summon Flashback Felassan. show me Felassan in Solas' past, helping Solas during his ancient rebellion 🕯️🛐🕯️🛐

[queen0fm0nsterz]

Want you.

(The full piece):

[mapsthewanderer]

Caffeine, chemistry and Caleb II

(Law student POV pt. 2)

Synopsis: The café was supposed to be just another coffee shop. For a law student who enjoys her morning coffee and a shy newbie still learning the ropes, it should have been nothing more than part of the daily routine… But then there’s Caleb.

Details: 1300 words. Pt. 2! (Spring cleaning is done lol kinda) Non-MC!Reader as the law student. Expect flirting, hot af barista Caleb, jealousy blooming and plenty of banter with the newbie barista. You learn something new about Caleb—and, as always, you and the newbie are in this chaotic little mess together.

Chapters: initial doodle, pilot part 1 (law student), pilot (newbie), part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12

Tags: @gavin3469 @mipov101 @unstablemiss

Turbulence | Pt. 2

It’s been three days.

Three days. Eleven drinks. Two shaky hands. One minor caffeine-induced breakdown in the library bathroom. And not a single Caleb.

The newbie’s been your reluctant caffeine lifeline. Quiet, sharp, tongue piercing flashing when they talk, salmon-colored hair tied back messily, a silver ring glinting at the edge of their nose. They don’t ask why you keep showing up—mostly because they already know. They catch your glances at the door, your pauses when Caleb’s name is mentioned, your steady descent into coffee-fueled delusion.

They say nothing. But every time they hand you your drink, their eyes say: same hat, different clown.

But today?

Today, you’re done pretending.

You step up to the counter, drop your bag, and level them with a look.

“Okay,” you say, voice flat. “This is not a crush. This is a case study. I just need to know—when does he work? For science. National interest. Closure.”

The newbie blinks, then gives you a slow, unimpressed look.

“You could ask him yourself.”

You open your mouth to argue—just as they glance at their watch, untie their apron, and say under their breath:

“Actually… perfect timing.”

And that’s when the door opens behind you.

You feel him before you see him. The shift in energy. The hum in the air. The ghost of that smirk from three days ago.

Then his voice, warm and amused:

“Hey.”

You turn around.

There he is—Caleb. Dressed in the same soft black shirt, hair slightly mussed, sleeves already rolled like he’s here to work and ruin your life.

He walks past you toward the counter, claps the newbie on the shoulder with easy affection, and ruffles their hair like it’s a normal thing people survive.

The newbie’s whole body goes still.

They turn to you, dead-eyed, mouthing: Kill me.

Then they mutter something about their shift ending and vanish into the back before Caleb can do more damage.

You’re still smiling when he turns around and spots you.

“Oh hey,” he says, tying his apron behind his back, eyes bright with something unreadable. “Didn’t expect to see you this late.”

You shrug, trying to keep your cool. “Guess I’m still unpredictable.”

His grin curves. “You wanna try something weird?”

You blink.

“I’ve been thinking about this drink all week,” he continues, moving behind the counter. “Coffee. With apple juice.”

You stare. “That sounds like a war crime.”

He laughs. “Exactly. But it might also be genius. C’mon—let me make it for you. Worst case, you hate it and I owe you a real drink.”

He’s already reaching for the espresso.

And somehow, you’re already saying yes.

You watch as he works. Veins shifting under his forearms as he moves so precise, so practiced, you’re tempted to file an official complaint with the Department of Hot People Doing Too Much. He talks while he works—voice low, casual, like this is all completely normal. Like he doesn’t know what he’s doing to you.

“Apple juice cuts the bitterness. Adds brightness. Kind of a shock to the system, but in a good way.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That sounds like a tagline for your whole personality.”

He smirks without looking up. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He finishes the drink, slides it across the counter toward you. The cup is warm, the smell… confusing. Like summer and danger and something that should probably not be consumed without signing a waiver.

“Try it,” he says, watching you.

You hesitate. Not because you don’t trust the drink—but because he’s watching you like this matters. Like your opinion on this weird little experiment is somehow important.

And it shouldn’t feel intimate, but it does.

You lift the cup, take a cautious sip.

It’s—good?

Weird. But good. Tangy, slightly sweet, the coffee mellowed into something strange and spark-bright on your tongue. You blink, surprised.

“Well?” he asks.

You look up at him, lips still on the rim of the cup.

“…This is actually kind of amazing.”

His smile is slow, satisfied. “Told you.”

You lower the cup, trying not to look like you’re about to write an entire thesis on the way he’s leaning forward just slightly, hands braced on the counter like you’re the only thing in the room.

You glance at the drink again, then up at him. “What made you think of it?”

He shrugs, leaning back against the counter. “I just have a thing for apples.”

And that’s when you see it.

The thin chain around his neck catches the light as he shifts—barely visible under the collar of his shirt. It slips out just enough to show what’s been hiding all along:

A dog tag.

And next to it, resting against the metal, a tiny apple charm.

You freeze.

You’ve seen it before. Or maybe you haven’t. Maybe you’ve been too distracted by everything else. But now, it’s all you can see.

Delicate. Meaningful. Not self-gifted. Not accidental.

Someone gave that to him.

And it’s been there. Long enough to be worn down at the edges. Long enough to become a part of him.

You look back down at your drink.

He didn’t make it for you.

He made it because apples mean something to him. Because she made them mean something.

And you hate that it matters. But it does.

You sip again. Slower. Trying not to show your face.

Trying not to wonder if everything about him is already spoken for.

You sit back down at your usual table with the coffee-apple crime still in hand, but your appetite for it has cooled. You pretend to read a paragraph of case law and get through maybe five words.

Because you’re still thinking about the necklace.

The charm.

Her.

Is she like you? Blonde? Quiet? Loud? Prettier? Softer? Did she work here? Was she the one who taught him to like apple juice in his coffee, or worse—did she drink it first?

You’re spiraling, and you know it.

You adjust your blazer. Reread the same line three times.

Across the room, Caleb’s voice drifts through the hum of espresso and indie guitar.

It’s just coffee. He makes drinks. You’re not special. This is nothing.

You take another sip.

…It’s still good. Damn it.

The newbie walks past your table on their way out, shooting you a look that says you okay? without bothering to say it out loud.

You raise your eyebrows in a silent do not even start.

They shrug like fine, but as they pass, they murmur:

“Don’t look too hard at the charm. You’ll drive yourself crazy.”

You whip around to say excuse me?, but they’re already gone. Vanished through the entrance with a pling of the doorbell, leaving you with your overactive brain and that damn necklace burned into your memory.

You try to recover. Get your bag together. Your pride. Your notes.

And just as you’re slipping your laptop back into its case, you hear him behind you:

“Hey, Golden Girl.”

You turn, eyes wide.

He’s leaning against the counter again, arms folded, apron dusted with a bit of cinnamon.

“I’m working the early shift tomorrow,” he says. “Should I make a cup of sin for you again, or… are you too scared to handle it twice?”

There’s that smirk.

That exact smirk.

And just like that, every ounce of composure you rebuilt cracks apart like a dropped glass.

You force a smile. Steady. Controlled.

“Careful,” you say lightly. “Turbulence, remember?”

He flashes that grin, all white teeth and silent challenge. “Trust me. I’m a trained pilot.”

You walk out, smile still frozen on your lips, heart pounding in your chest like a full-on procedural hearing is taking place in there.

And as soon as the door shuts behind you, you mutter under your breath:

“I’m lawyering the hell out of that apple girl.”

——————————————————————————

Part 3

——————————————————————————

Writer’s note: So when I say my drafts are empty, I don’t mean literally—but you’ve successfully squeezed the last half-decent AU I had kinda ready since you wanted the law student with the MC existing. I was just too scared to commit lol. Congrats, you’ve all unlocked the “fine, I’ll post it” hidden achievement on my tumblr. We can always make the MC disappear if you change your mind (said with Colonel Caleb intensity)

I’m honestly amazed (and so grateful) that people enjoy this simple AU of mine—thank you for the comments, likes, and reblogs! Muah!

Let me know if you’d like more, dear reader! I’ll be off doodling my newfound Apothecary Diaries AU in the meantime—before dropping a headcanon for all the boiis later this week, hehe. Okey then, thank you for reading 🫶🏻

[boxeom]

It's almost like the twisted sense of familial ties and never being able to change the way they saw one another is the core struggle of Calebmc. It's almost like Caleb himself says this exact thing during his "I'm tired playing this game of house" rant.

It's almost as if their entire relationship is founded in being so closely bonded to one another to a point that they can still fall for each other despite the situation they were placed (and found comfort) in. It's almost as if Calebmc is an exploration of codependency founded in trauma, love that transcends modern societal morality, and cherishing the one person you have ever known unconditionally in every way you possibly can while you still have time.

If you cannot handle the canonical themes that are being presented, that is understandable and the exact reason the eng translation has given people who would be uncomfortable with this the "childhood best friends" trope. But to go around and harass and demonize those who enjoy the canonical aspect of Calebmc is ridiculous, immature, shortsighted, and chronically online behavior.

[thursdaymoonrise11]

Seb and Bee as Mulder and Scully👉👈

[sparxyv]

1890 Yule Ball ☀️🪶 (part one)

(DISCLAIMER HAHA --- i am NOT a fashion designer at all... and i know this isn't era accurate. i believe milena would stray from tradition anyways.. 🫶)

milena 100% would take to designing her own dress (hence the mess of feathers of dyed pearls) and of course she'd be inspired by a bird.

specifically the broad-tailed hummingbird!

[her own dress is not the only thing she would design for this event..]

she would attend with some of her best friends, sacharissa tugwood, poppy sweeting, and samantha dale - none of which cared for securing a date for the ball.

(but sacharissa WOULD care about what her friends would be wearing, to which she would ultimately be disappointed.. but she loves them anyways)

and one tradition that i feel samantha would definitely encourage milena to take part in would having slips of paper for each of their dance partners to sign 🥹

(i love them)

[stump-not-found]

.

argggh i wanna post can of snakes i wanna talk about . theraprism bill . i wanna talk about shame of actions you might have taken & the ways in which you reframe history to justify your shit . i wanna talk about denial of desire and the ways in which that only perpetuates the cycle . aaaaaaaaaaaaghhhhhhh

banging my fists sobbing gnawing at the cages

[kiitkattie]

my roman empire is hating how my hero academia ended because that shit was so fucking stupid and i refuse to acknowledge any part of it

[margaretkart]

«Why don't you give in?»

«...»

What a great appeal Vere is. He's a god fallen from grace and like the sneaky fox he is he craves to show his dominance, to have a sense of control in his chained life.

My OC Calyssa who was born, raised and used to a cult as a pawn all her life, being groomed and lied of her nature, trying to find answers about her curse, something to finally break free.

It's interesting that how these two, both metaphorically and physically, desire the same thing of being "free from the chains".

[myokk]

different

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

word count: 4,2k

summary: Sebastian is not as she remembered.

cw: enemies to lovers, dark sebastian (I guess?), relic!Sebastian, smut (18+ ONLY), unprotected sex, maybe he has a breeding kink...I just don't know what to tag this it's angsty

a/n: or: Sebastian has probably gotten in over his head even though I don't specify what's going on with him🤭

Sebastian Sallow is not as she remembered.

There's something...unkempt about him. Feral. Unhinged. Uncontrolled. She feels absolutely ridiculous thinking it, of course, could never confide in anyone about what she's noticed.

Everyone knows she hates Sebastian Sallow and shouldn't be noticing anything about him. But...when they sit next to each other in their NEWT Arithmancy class and are forced to spend time with each other, there are things she cannot help but see.

Because of proximity, of course.

As she glances over to him, all she can think of is how his hair is more tousled than usual, a strange, feverish flush spread across already ruddy-freckled cheeks, his normally pristine uniform wrinkled and the top buttons undone. She is used to hating him from afar; their previous years at Hogwarts have been spent glaring at each other across the Great Hall, fighting to be the first to answer questions in class, him purposely antagonizing her and going out of his way to make sure she's annoyed by his presence and...

Well.

In the short first month of their seventh year (arriving to Hogwarts without his sister), so far he has been avoiding her. Avoiding everyone, really. More reclusive, less of the magnetic and commanding presence that demands people pay attention to him. As much as she thought she would rejoice the day he stopped bothering her, it is rather disconcerting.

He looks over at her, catches her staring at him, and his glazed-over-glossy eyes flash in fury.

"What," he hisses, barely disguised hatred poisoning his deep voice, "are you looking at?"

She starts, the quill she's holding slips out of her fingers and clatters to the table, and ink splatters across the page of notes she was working on. "N-nothing," she mumbles, before clearing the mess away with a wave of her wand.

The rest of their time together is spent in silence, both determined to not look at the other.

She secretly observes Sebastian any time they share a class - it's impossible to see him between classes, as he's disappearing to Merlín-knows-where, but he's still yet to be fully absent.

Some days, he looks better than others, almost like the mischievous Sebastian who used to torment her. A small smile might even grace his full lips.

But most days, there's an unhealthy pallor to his flushed skin, his shoulders holding an ungodly amount of tension; last week in Charms he snapped five quills in half, one for every squeak of Professor Ronan's chalk on the blackboard. She was sitting right behind him, unsure if anyone else noticed, but how could she miss it? The tension in his broad shoulders seemed to radiate off of him in waves, the skin she could see of his neck between his collar and his tousled hair was flushed and sweaty, and as soon as class was dismissed he was pushing his chair back and striding out with long legs, black robes billowing behind him.

This has been repeated more and more often as of late.

Where is Anne? -

"What do you think of Sebastian this year?" She's trying to act like she doesn't care about the answer, pushing food around her plate, resting her chin in her hand, but the truth is she's dying to have someone else acknowledge what she's been seeing.

"He's grumpier than usual," says Leander helpfully.

"He almost singed my eyebrows off in Charms," pipes up Garreth.

Cressida is too overcome by giggles to speak properly at first. "I've been trying to count the freckles on his forearms every chance I get," she confesses, "but every time I reach forty he turns around and I'm worried he'll kill me. Why? Are you upset he's finally moved on from his infatuation with you?"

None of them seem to be worried about him like she is. At Cressida's last question, she flushes and glances across the Great Hall and her eyes find his immediately. It's almost as if he's heard their conversation; his eyes are two black pits glowering into her own and she's worried that if she keeps staring she might fall in. Gaunt is sitting next to him, murmuring who knows what in his ear. The contrast between the two of them: one blond and elegant and deathly pale, the other flushed and disheveled and full of rage: is eerie.

She shivers and looks away.

As the days progress, Gaunt seems more and more upset with his friend. She catches the two of them having heated discussions under their breath on more than one occasion; the tip of Gaunt's wand flaring like his nostrils as they quarrel.

Normally, the two of them walk the halls of Hogwarts together like they own the place. The fact that they are almost never seen together anymore is preoccupying, to say the least.

She soon abandons any pretense of being nonchalant, of secretly watching, and finds herself looking forward (if it can be called that) to every class shared with Sebastian Sallow. His presence is intoxicating somehow - she couldn't look away from him even if she'd wanted to, and she is simply too curious to see how far he will fall.

Is he going to be normal today? she wonders as she sets up her station in Potions. Almost hoping to the contrary, but he doesn't show up.

She's...disappointed.

Or maybe she's just bored. Watching Sebastian has started to consume her, his strange behavior the only thing that seems to interest her these days.

When he barges into the Potions classroom five minutes late - not enough for Sharp to chastise him - their eyes immediately meet and he beelines for her station, unceremoniously dumping his bag at the empty spot next to her. Although they don't speak for the entirety of the class, she shows him the recipe she is working on and he pulls the cutting board towards him, surprisingly gentle with the knife as he starts chopping up the ingredients.

Soon, his robe is shed off. The classroom feels muggy and stifling and even she feels dazed from the heat and fumes of the combined cauldrons. He silently slides the cutting board to her, everything cut perfectly; she glances at him before nodding slightly and adding everything in with precision. Sebastian takes over the stirring as she adds the ingredients one by one, but soon he's pulling at his tie and collar to loosen then as he stands over the flames, rolling up his shirtsleeves and exposing his tan, freckled forearms. For one mortifying second she wonders if he's going to take off his vest too.

He's so different from the exasperating boy she thought he was. Before, he was mischievous and charming and annoying and always getting into trouble with his sister. But now...now, he's angry in a way she isn't used to: his fists clenched so hard his knuckles turn white, his dark brow always furrowed in displeasure.

She finds she wants to smooth it away with the pad of her thumb.

At the end of the class, they get a rare 'well done' from their professor, and then before she can blink Sebastian is striding out of the class just as quickly as he has been for the past month. She hurries to shove everything into her bag and stumbles out after him, almost sprinting to catch up as he's already at the end of the hall.

"W-wait," she gasps, reaching out a hand that grazes his sleeve. He slows down a bit but keeps walking, not acknowledging her presence otherwise. "Sebastian."

He stops at the sound of his name, the fury in his glare makes her pause - maybe she shouldn't be addressing him like this, but they were friends before, weren't they? And now he continues walking, much slower this time, but still with purpose.

She takes this as an invitation.

She doesn't let go of her grip on his robes, not wanting him to disappear on her again.

The truth is, although everyone knows she hates Sebastian Sallow, she always kind of liked the attention he gave her. Out of all of the girls he could have pursued - almost any of them - she was the only one he ever paid attention to. As much as she was exasperated by him in previous years, there had been a few moments last year when...

She shakes her head to get rid of the thoughts. Clearly, that Sebastian lives in the past, and the one she is following now is someone else entirely.

Sebastian pulls her into an empty classroom and whirls around to look at her after the door slams shut, his cheeks colored and more ruddy than usual, and her heart is pounding as she stares up at him. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to follow him, and she curses herself for her damn curiosity. But...she can't deny that a thrill runs through her body, heat pooling in her stomach as she sees him glower at her. Maybe she's missed having Sebastian's undivided attention, and now she has it.

"I-" he starts, taking a deep, shaking breath as he looks down at her. He closes his mouth, runs long fingers through his hair, disheveling it more (she quite likes it, but -), paces around the room. She just stands there, watching him, clutching the strap of the bag that's pressed across her chest. "I know you're watching me."

"I," he says again, looking down at her, his warm breath fanning across her face, "cant get you out of my damn mind. You're always there, and it's..."

She feels his words tremble down her face, slide down her neck; she shivers. In fear? In anticipation? Heat pools deep in her stomach at their intense eye contact, at the fact his mouth is mere inches from hers, the fact that he's looking at her like that.

"Y-you don't hate me?" she whispers, moving the tiniest bit forward. Her lips brush his lower lip as she speaks, a thrill runs through her body at the contact. Sebastian is stock still.

"No," he responds. This time he is the one who moves the tiniest bit forward, his head inclined the tiniest bit more towards hers. Now, with every breath she takes, every inhale, their lips are touching.

She doesn't know who moves first: between their shallow-soft breaths mixing and mingling and the general haziness of her mind that still lingers after their Potions class: all she knows is that somehow, their mouths have crashed together and all reasonable thought has left her mind.

As Sebastian's lips move hungrily - desperately - against hers, her fingers clutching the collar of his robes so she doesn't lose her balance, one of his hands grips her by the hips to keep her pressed against him. His other hand comes up to her face: caressing her cheek: bringing his thumb to her jaw to feel her pulse as they kiss: slowly moving to tangle itself in the soft hair at the nape of her neck so she can't pull away.

She feels as if she should feel embarrassed at all of the small noises escaping her mouth, but she can't help it. His lips are soft against hers, a contrast to the hard body pressing against her, the sharp angles of the desk she's being pushed against. And besides, Sebastian's making just as much noise as she is. The sinful noises coming from him are making an unfamiliar heat spread through her body, making her feel as desperate as he is acting.

But...- as she's moving to undo his tie, her mouth wandering down to kiss his pulse point as she uncovers it - noises that somehow slip through the hazy bubble of just her and Sebastian make her pause in fear. A burst of happily chattering students walks past the classroom and makes her wonder what the bloody hell she's doing.

They could have been caught - and then what? She would find herself in a forced betrothal to this bizarre, dangerous version of the boy she once knew. Because, of course, propriety would have to be followed.

It's as if the scales have fallen from her eyes and she pulls away from Sebastian slightly, her chest heaving. She just lost control of herself for one second. His strange magnetism hoodwinked her into thinking - or lack thereof, she's not sure that any thinking was involved when she kissed him back - that she wanted this.

There's no other explanation.

She pushes him away slightly, scowling at his bemused expression. Merlin, he's insufferable. His lips are swollen, his freckled face flushed, and all she wants to do is grab his stupid face and keep kissing him.

She pushes his chest again, and this time he stumbles back a bit. Now that she's free, she bends down to grab her discarded school bag, her robes crumpled to the ground at her feet. As she shrugs them on, she glances at Sebastian over her shoulder.

The open expression on his face is already starting to close off, the scowl that she's now used to taking its place.

If she had thought Sebastian Sallow was strange before their -

She gives her head a small shake and rests her chin on the palm of her hand, trying her hardest to listen to Garreth speak about whatever it is he's telling her. It's impossible however, with Sebastian sitting across the Great Hall from her.

There might be a couple hundred students sitting between them, chattering about inconsequential and trivial matters, but it's as if none of them exist. She knows how many times he's taken a bite of his lamb, how many time's he's turned to whisper something to Ominis before realizing that his friend is not by his side. It's a stormy night, and every so often an occasional bolt of lightning cuts the Great Hall in half, illuminating the whole room in an eerie light - almost making everything look black and white for a split second before thunder rumbles in the distance. And, she swears that every time the room is lit up, Sebastian is glowering straight into her eyes.

For as much as she is trying to pretend that he does not exist (and failing miserably), Sebastian is not hiding the fact that he is watching her. She can feel his eyes boring into her back as she walks down the halls between classes, and she feels uncomfortably seen in a way she is not used to.

She can't get rid of the feeling of being watched, not even when she knows she's alone in her dormitory. Sebastian and his all-consuming presence are haunting her mind, and she often finds herself waking drenched in sweat in the middle of the night, needing him in ways she isn't used to. In ways she decidedly doesn't want.

After her meal's finished, she scurries out of the Great Hall as fast as she can, like she has been for the past week since their wretched kiss. Another bolt of lightning shoots across the ceiling; everything is painted with that eerie silver light again for a brief moment and thunder is beginning to rumble through the air as the huge wooden door closes behind her.

She's not quite sure where she wants to go, and she makes a mental inventory of the castle. Her common room is boring - nobody of interest will be there and is she really just going to sit around by herself pretending to be occupied? The library is off-limits, due to Sebastian's propensity to show up in her periphery when she's trying to study, it's too early to sleep and she's scared of what might happen if she's alone in her bed, the...

She huffs as she marches aimlessly through the hallways. Maybe the occasional ghost crosses her path, but otherwise it's empty. Every suit of armor she walks past, every empty classroom, every portrait, reminds her of moments when she was spying on strange-not-the-same Sebastian this year. She hates him. Why couldn't this year be a continuation of the previous years, with their harmless flirtation? Things feel different this year, more dangerous, and...

Somehow, she ends up in the Transfiguration Courtyard, and she decides to march through it, rain be damned.

She's soaked to the bone by the time she reaches the old oak tree in the middle of the courtyard; the storm seems to have somehow picked up, but she finds she doesn't mind it. In fact, she might like it. In her own over-active imagination, she feels as if the rain is helping numb her over-sensitive emotions, the raw feeling she's been harboring in her chest all week isn't as awful as it has been all week.

She breathes a sigh of relief and lifts her face to the sky as the rain pours down against it; when she feels the brush of someone's robes against her arm as they sit by her side she isn't surprised.

It's inevitable, after all.

"Sebastian," she says, so quietly she isn't sure he can hear her over the noise of the storm, "why are you following me?"

If he says anything in response, she certainly doesn't hear it. But what she doesn't hear is made up for by his touch. A hand slides up her arm, clumsily - her eyes are still closed, face still upturned to the pouring heavens - and when it makes its way up to her jaw, tilting her head slightly, she lets him. When his lips brush against hers, she allows it.

(maybe she's been hoping for this very thing)

The kiss isn't sweet for long: maybe it's the cold rain, maybe it's the thunder rumbling in the background, maybe it's the quickly darkening night: but their kiss grows desperate faster than she can fully realize what's happening. Sebastian groans into her mouth, his lips hot and demanding against hers, and when his tongue swipes across her lips she lets him in without thinking.

It's impossible for any thoughts to be in her brain whatsoever, apart from the overwhelming lust that's currently heating up her body and causing her to be greedy and want more. Maybe, if she were in a proper state of mind, she would be embarrassed at how quickly his touch has unlocked something feral inside of her. Sebastian's hands are running down her back, sliding to her waist, pulling her closer to him. One hand comes up to brush against the underside of her breast and her gasp seems to spur him on.

She finds her hands moving of their own accord to caress his face, her fingers glide down his cheeks and up his neck to run themselves through his soaking wet curls - Merlin, what's gotten into them, into her? Snogging in the middle of a thunderstorm that only seems to be picking up.

She pulls away slightly, breathing hard as she finally peels her eyes open. Sebastian's eyes are dark, his brow furrowed as if to ask her why she's stopped; she just gives him a small smile, leaning forward to brush her lips against his before lacing her fingers through his and dragging him to the covered area of the courtyard overlooking the Lake.

She can see a question forming on his lips, but before he can say anything, she reaches forward and grabs him by his collar, pulling his face down to hers and he's eager to reciprocate. She's worried that maybe, if words are spoken between them, it could break the tenuous connection the two of them seem to have. Because they are connected somehow, aren't they? Something is compelling and pushing them together, time and time again, and she is simply curious to see where it's headed.

As his hands drag down her back, holding her tight at the waist, pulling her closer, she's reminded of the fact that they're soaking wet. She fumbles with her wand, whispers a hasty drying spell, and then it clatters out of her hand as Sebastian roughly pushes her towards the wall. She's moaning, gasping, yearning into his mouth as the kiss deepens, as she's pressed between the cold wall and his too-warm body, and she vaguely wonders if he can hear her, if he can taste her desperation for him in their kiss.

She's not quite sure what she wants, the sweet kisses she's shared with Garreth she now realizes were chaste in comparison to Sebastian's overpowering, addicting presence. He practically growls as he pulls his lips away from hers, but before she can whimper in protest, his lips have moved to her jawline, her neck, leaving a hot trail of kisses and it's all she can do to stay upright. Her head falls back against the cold stone wall, her hands scrabbling in his hair to hold him closer, try to find some purchase so she can stay upright.

Her knees go weak as Sebastian slowly moves a hand up her thigh, dragging her skirt along with it. The feeling of his fingers ghosting over her woolen stockings - her whole body is so sensitive that she may as well be wearing nothing - is causing an unfamiliar heat to pool low within her stomach and, oh, Merlin, he's reached the top of her stockings where her skin is bare. She doesn't recognize her voice as she moans, Sebastian moving his mouth back to hers to devour every noise she makes and - yes, she thinks, there: his hand grazes the edge of her knickers. He lets his fingers brush over her folds - barely-there touches that she's not even sure are happening outside of her imagination - and she is insensible. Nobody has ever touched her there apart from herself, lately, thinking of Sebastian - and she feels herself get wet at the mere thought of Sebastian touching her.

When he pushes her knickers to the side and starts slowly circling her clit with his thumb, all she can do is moan. His other hand is helping keep her in place, and she soon finds herself rocking against his hand. When he slips a finger inside of her, far from being uncomfortable, it causes a jolt of pleasure deep inside of her and she gasps against his mouth. She's unsure if she should feel embarrassed at how wet she is, but she's past the point of caring how she comes across.

"So good," Sebastian murmurs against her lips as he inserts another finger without warning, and she just moans in response, bucking her hips against his hand. He's curling his fingers inside of her, still rubbing her clit with his thumb, and he can But, as she feels pressure building deep within her, he slowly pulls his fingers out of her. She opens dazed eyes to glare at him, fully prepared to chastise him as how dare he stop? When -

Sebastian grabs her by the arse and lifts her up, and she instinctively wraps her legs around his waist, her skirt still bunched up, still completely bare to anyone who were to walk past. He slides his arms underneath her knees, bracing his arms on either side of her, and she feels something decidedly different than his fingers pressing against her soaking wet entrance.

A bolt of lightning and its resounding thunder fill the air as she whimpers against his mouth while he slowly pushes himself inside of her - there's no resistance - how could there be, when she's as wet as she is? He stops once he's fully inside of her, pulling away from her mouth to take a deep, steadying breath. His lips move clumsily across her face - her eyelid, her nose, her cheek - as he gives her time to adjust to the feeling of him inside of her - Merlin - how does it feel so good?

Soon, however, Sebastian decides that patience is not a virtue, and he drives into her, hard, over and over again, and they fall into a rhythm of sorts. The obscene wet noises, his grunts, are overpowered by the storm around them, and she's unsure if he hears her moaning his name as she feels herself getting close. The heat inside of her, building up in her, is unbearable: "Please, Sebastian - don't stop - please -"

He doesn't slow down his pace, hiding his face in her neck, desperately kissing her wherever he can, and she could almost cry in relief as her orgasm crashes over her; she shudders against his mouth, moaning so loudly it's nearly a scream. Her every muscle tenses, contracts, her body is squeezing and trying to hold Sebastian inside of her for as long as it can, and yet he doesn't slow his pace at all. It's unbearable - she's so, so sensitive, and yet he doesn't stop.

But then - his whole body tenses against her and he pushes himself as deep inside of her as he can. He gives out a low groan, pulling away from her slightly to look her in the face as he comes. It's an expression she has become accustomed to this year, uncontrolled, dangerous, and as the two of them are breathing hard, staring into each others' faces, realizing what they've just done, he moves slightly. He's still deep inside of her, she can feel every twitch he makes, but...when he moves...

Something metallic clatters out of his robes.

Lightning strikes, and, through half-lidded eyes, she sees a strange object fall to the ground.

"Sebastian, what -"

He hushes her with a dizzying, toe-curling kiss as he slips out of her.

[moldy-flowers]

Boruto would be 1000% better if Sasuke left Konoha for months at a time but visited in-between them.

If we want ss to actually be a proper relationship Sakura and Sarada can travel with him once a year so they actually like. Have a real relationship. Probably should happen during March so he's there for some important dates. Sakura could spread medical ninjutsu and heal poor villages, Sarada could learn about other cultures and actually have a whole family. Sasuke doesn't have to be in a village that activelly assisted in the ethnic cleansing of his clan for long at a time and can replace the memory's of empty houses and ghosts with spending time with family and hanging out with his friends. Then he can leave after a week or so when it gets a bit stressful.

Also i think they should get a cat.

There we go! I fixed Boruto. Everybody clap for me now!!!

[ezlo-x]

i love how youtube saw me look up Minecraft stuff such as "cute farm builds", "how to redstone", "how to obtain a blue axolotl :]" and then my recommended is just, hey do you want to watch an hour long video about how a +10 year old Minecraft video mystery was actually in fact not faked and the mystery was caused by a really rare glitch?

and boy, did i click it

[gifti3]

the goverment is definitely figuring out this alien situation asap right?? cause whats happening currently is not feasible in the long run is it not??

im sure they are trying to maybe figure it out...probably, but part of me feels like it is not being treated with the seriousness it should be by them, which ig is in character LOL

pretty much relying on one guy (who doesnt even wanna be doing this) is actually scary

and the mc still has to like 'encourage' him to do it, tho its much easier in the 'ray ending' for sure. that man just wants to live a regular life with mc (unfortunately for him that means continuing to be binary star and dealing with aliens)

and if i was a citizen and knew this id be panicking

like yea u have these other heroes helping and stuff which im sure looks comforting from an outside point of view! but like the actuality is that its ray keeping things afloat

AND ON THE TOPIC OF THE MC, i was definitely in my head like....wouldnt rays superiors (managers??) get like curious about them? like no way theyre not being nosy about it after a certain amount of time passes. it really feels like something that could be leveraged against him,,, (if there is fic about this pls send it to me lol)

honestly i feel like mc and rays relationship would have moments of high stress. like there will be good times but also the bad times will also be there and its sometimes gonna be because of outside factors they cant control

[alynnia]

HEAR ME OUT

I'm this close to loading up BG3 just to make a dragonborn Sylus. Unfortunately, I have shit to do today but WHEN I GET HOME