#she says only vaguely ominiously

[little-emerald-snake]

Kinktober Day 26

Squirting / Overstim - Ominis Gaunt X F!MC

🔥NSFW 🔞 MDNI

1.9k words

Ominis could never deny her anything. So when she’d approached him and asked him to help her have an orgasm he found himself unable to say no to one of his best friends.

She’d confided in him a week after their mandatory sex ed course. She knew a few students had already started experimenting. But some students, like her, had never put much thought into sex up until now.

She’d tried for the past few nights with different methods, trying to obtain an orgasm. She’d tried with her fingers, a pillow, even her wand. But no method felt suited to get the job done alone.

After much thought she’d decided asking a close friend to help her would likely be her best bet. At first she’d thought of Sebastian and quickly shut that thought down before thinking of Ominis.

He wouldn’t take advantage of her inexperience and she couldn’t help but feel a little better that he couldn’t see her, which eased some of her insecurities and discomfort.

Ominis had agreed without hesitation. He didn’t tease or chastise her for asking for help and instead was glad she trusted him to help her with something so personal.

He said he’d do some reading and meet her in her room of requirement after curfew so they would have complete undisturbed privacy after the students and Deek had gone to sleep.

Ominis had spent the rest of his day reading up on everything he could get his hands on for how to help her. Everything from spells, potions and just plain anatomy books.

He’d felt fairly confident that by the time he let his wand lead him to the ror that he’d be able to help her with her problem.

In all honesty he was a mess. He’d dreamed of doing something like this with her for so long but never imagined it could actually happen. He was hoping that if he made it really good for her that she’d want to do it more…or maybe she’d even return the favor one day.

When he’d entered the ror, he took a breath and stepped inside. He was surprised to find her waiting on the couch for him, face lifting from her book as he entered. “H-hello, Ominis…”

She quickly stood and brushed the skirt of her silky nightgown down, heat already creeping up her cheeks. She felt silly wanting to dress kind of sexy for him but felt like it could be a small thanks in trade for his help.

He smiled and approached her, his non-wand hand at his side, itching to reach up and touch her. He didn’t know the level of intimacy she was interested in and figured he’d let her lead the way.

She wanted him to touch her, to realize she wasn't in her school attire. But she didn’t want to seem too intimate and drive him away. After all, he was only here because she asked, right? She swallowed hard and took his hand in hers, planting it on her hip as she slid closer to him.

He sighed happily and let his fingers wander over the silky smooth fabric of her nightgown. He bit his tongue to stifle the hum of satisfaction that threatened to leave his lips. “You wore this for me? I’m sure you look absolutely edible, darling.”

Her cheeks heated, happy that he approved of her. She let his hand wrap around her and stay on her hip as she led him to the small room she’d set up with a four poster bed. She’d occasionally slept here when she stayed up late studying and didn’t want to bother her roommates or when she wanted a bit of privacy. Mostly the last few days as she’d been exploring.

Ominis was vaguely familiar with her ror and could tell she was taking him to the bedroom. His heart sped up and he tried his best to keep his nerves from showing. He wanted to appear dominant and confident, both things she had mentioned finding attractive over the time he’d known her.

She stopped by the bed, swallowing hard as her nerves started rising up. Ominis turned to her, hand still on her hip as he lowered his wand. “Did you want this to be strictly business or would you like some sensuality?”

Her cheeks heated as she fussed with the lace trim of her nightgown. “I erm, I was hoping it could be a bit sensual…I-I think it would possibly help me relax a bit more.”

He nodded and gently slid his arms around her, placing his knee on the bed and lowering her down to lay on the edge. “Would you…like to be kissed?”

Her breath was taken away as he delicately lowered her onto the bed. Her heart raced as she looked up into his milky blue orbs. “Y-yes please…”

Ominis smiled and gently pressed his lips to hers, letting the passion and care bleed into the kiss. She kissed him back, mouth parting as he licked along her lips. A taste so overwhelmingly ‘Ominis’ took over her senses, causing a new little tingle to form low in her belly.

Ominis was careful, lifting her head to place a pillow below it as he made sure she was placed where he wanted her on the bed. His hands wandered to the bottom of her nightgown, finding her smooth legs beneath them and teasing his fingers over the skin.

She gasped into the kiss and he swallowed her soft sounds. Finally his lips left her swollen ones, he positioned himself between her legs on his knees beside the bed. He carefully lifted her skirts up and worked her panties down her legs.

He spread her legs open and placed her legs over his shoulders. She blushed, bringing her hands down to cover her exposed core, he chuckled in response. “Darling, I can’t even see you. What is there to be embarrassed of? I’m sure you look absolutely ravishing.”

She whimpered, allowing him to pull her hands away as he kissed his way up her inner thigh. His lips came to the apex of her thighs and her core clenched around nothing. He stopped, looking up in the direction of her face, chuckling before laving a thick stripe between her folds.

She shivered in pleasure, head tipping back as the image of him peering from between her legs right into her eyes played on loop in her mind. His tongue slid past her folds again and she shivered when it met her sensitive clit. “O-oh gods, Ominis.”

He chuckled, bringing his hand up to her core, dipping his middle finger into her silky wet sex. “I find it hard to believe you can’t achieve orgasm if you’re this sensitive, darling. Look at you, practically shaking already.”

She moaned softly, focusing on his second finger sliding in to meet his first. She had no thought to ask Ominis if he’d ever done this before but now, as she laid on the bed in front of him, his fingers curling against her g spot that she’d never managed to find, she very much doubted he was as innocent as she had believed.

Pride swelled in his chest as he heard her soft breathy gasps turn to full on moans while his fingers slid gently back and forth over her g spot, his tongue circling her clit softly but assuredly.

She was already climbing a ladder of pleasure she’d been unable to reach. Her back arching up bit by bit, her fingers gripping into the bed sheets, her legs quaking as she fought the urge to close her thighs tightly around his skull.

Her moans crescendoed, her hand reaching down to lace her fingers in his hair. Her hips had a mind of their own as she practically ground against his face. “O-o-oh! Ominis! I-oh y-yes!”

He worked his fingers faster, lips suctioning around her clit as she tumbled over the blissful edge. He felt her walls tighten around his fingers and he palmed his aching erection through his pants while he listened to her beautiful sounds.

He kept going till she released his hair, body twitching but relaxing back against the mattress softly. “O-oh my…w-well I can see what all the hype is about now…Merlin…that was incredible Ominis.”

He chuckled as he lifted his face, licking up the sweet taste of her from his lips. He kept his finger seated deep witting her, unmoving but still there. “That was magnificent darling. I must say though, I’ve heard if you have multiple in a row, it can be quite the experience. That is, if you’re up for it…”

She bit her lip, excitement coursing through her. If he was right then that means the feeling could possibly be even better. As someone who brought her so quickly to orgasm after days of trying by herself she was not keen on refusing his offer to bring her even more pleasure. “I erm, if you really don’t mind, I’ll try it.”

He smirked, devilishly and nodded. “In that case, just tell me when to stop, love.”

He lowered his head between her legs and got right back into it. She moaned, the sensitivity was maddening but something within her didn’t let her pull him away. She craved the feeling, craved watching him pleasure her so eagerly.

Ominis gave her his all. Lips perfectly around her bud and fingers massaging her g spot at a maddening pace. He brought her to the brink and shoved her over it once, twice, three, even four more times.

Her legs were absolutely shaking now and he could tell she was overly sensitive. Her walls spasmed wildly around his three fingers and he’d given up on her clit entirely seeing as she shoved his head away every time he tried after her third orgasm.

She was a mess, sheets completely disheveled beneath her as she arched upward. His fingers brought her closer and closer. She knew this felt entirely different but didn’t know why or how.

A great pressure grew within her and before she knew it, her walls were clenching down and the pressure was being relieved rapidly, a clear fluid releasing from inside of her.

She was in her own mix of heaven and hell. Pleasure so intense, like nothing she’d ever felt before. And shame so intense it burned her cheeks.

Even as she squirted down the front of his chest, he didn’t falter, a devious smile still plastered on his face. Once she’d gotten a hold of herself and Ominis had pulled his fingers from her she got to apologizing immediately.

Ominis simply shushed her and pulled his wand, casting a quick scourgify on himself and anything else affected. “Shhh. Don’t apologize, love. It’s perfectly normal. Although, not all women can. I must say I’m impressed.”

She sat up, a bit confused as he stood up and laid on the bed beside her. Her eyes failed to miss the massive bulge in his trousers. “What you just experienced is called squirting. Only some women can and even less figure out that they can. It’s perfectly normal. I find it quite hot that you are capable.”

Her face was still red with shame but she was pleased to hear he at least liked it. “I-I’m glad you liked it. I erm…see you are quite affected by what we’ve done. I-I’ve never…b-but if you want to I could try t-“

He pressed his finger to her lips and shushed her as his hand slid down to adjust himself in his trousers. “Why don’t I just take care of it myself and you can watch, darling?”

Kinktober Prompt List

[cranetreegang]

An Unexpected Flight - Ominis x FemReader

I loved writing this. But I also love flying around on Highwing. Like I had The Escape and Buckbeak's Flight playing in my head as I wrote this.

I hope y'all enjoy!!!

Summary: Ominis gets an unexpected owl to meet up with the Fifth year. He wonders what's in store for him and her 'surprise'.

Word Count: ~1,600

Read more of my Ominis Fics Here!

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As Ominis descends down the stairs, he senses her waiting at the north exit door, just as her owl said. While her letter had been unexpected, and the message somewhat cryptic stating only to dress warmly, he finds himself giddy with what she wanted to show him.

“Ominis!” She calls out to him as he approaches her. A smile begins to overtake him as he can feel hers radiating back at him. “I’m so glad you’re here.”  

“Of course. Your letter was rather vague though. Where exactly are we going?” 

She holds out her hand for him to take, which he doesn’t hesitate to do, then she says, “It’s a surprise. So, no peeking.” 

“Ha! Another surprise? How do I know you won’t just drag me into the lake, then leave me for the Kraken?” Ominis gives her a cheeky grin, making her laugh.

“You’ll just have to trust me. Besides, I won’t let any harm befall you.” 

While he had been jesting, her rather serious vow made his heart flip in his chest. He gives her a soft smile as he says, “I do trust you. Lead the way.” 

It is strange to let someone else guide him. Since he’s had his wand, he’s had no need for anyone to lead him around. The exhilaration of letting her take them across the school grounds, putting his full trust into her, sends a thrill of excitement through him. He feels the hard stone walkway under his feet and the sounds of students flying over with the air whooshing past with their excited cries. They approach the fountain and keep going past. 

“Are we heading to Hogsmead?” He wonders as they leave the campus’ walls. 

“No. Patience, Ominis. We’re nearly there.” 

He can hear the light smirk in her words. Mischievous, he thinks. 

After they cross a bridge, she takes them off the stone path onto a dirt one. One of his brows raises and she lets out a slight laugh at his expression.

“Don’t worry. It’s not too much further.” She reassures him. 

They head down the path which runs along the trickling river until she stops them. 

“We’re here.” She says. 

“And here is?” 

“Within view of the school grounds.” She lets go of his hand and he feels a sense of exposure at the loss. “There’s someone I want you to meet. She’s very dear to me.” 

“Oh? Whom is it? Is she here now?” Ominis turns his head to better hear who just might be waiting for them. The faint sounds of heavy breaths over the babbling brook makes his skin prickle. 

“I doubt you’ve met her before.” She says with a bit of humor lacing her voice. “First, you’ll need to introduce yourself.”

“I-, of course. How rude of me. My name is-,”

“No, no.” She giggles. “Something far more formal. You must bow.” 

“Bow?” Ominis cranes his head towards her then back to the mysterious person in front of them. 

“Yes. Like you mean it. Nice and low.” She encourages. 

Ominis stiffens before lowering his head.

“Back too, Gaunt. Don’t slack on me now.” She teases. 

Ominis huffs with a slight scowl aimed towards her then does as he’s told. The sounds of something ruffling and a pleased chirp gets his attention. A faint notion of who, or really what, he’s introducing himself to, sends a slight chill down his spine. 

“Very good. She bowed back.” She informs Ominis. “You may now approach.” 

Her hand finds his and like instinct he follows her forward until she guides his hand up with his palm facing out. Similar to the unicorn, he feels something cool press into his palm, not nearly as wet though. He pets over the smooth surface until his fingers brush over something soft. His brows pinch as he pieces together what he’s feeling.

“Ominis, this is Highwing. A hippogriff.” 

His stomach lurches at his very close proximity to such a dangerous creature. 

“How on earth did you come across a hippogriff then befriend her?” Ominis wonders while he steps away from Highwing to be closer to his mischievous friend.

“Long story, but I saved her from poachers. Well, Natty and I did.” 

Ominis opens his mouth to express his concerns with such a thing, but she speaks first.

“Now that you’ve met Highwing, how about a quick ride?” 

Ominis stiffens, his head already shaking ‘no’, “This is quite dangerous. I-I don’t even know how to fly. I’ve never even been on a broom.” 

Her hand takes his and for a moment his worries quell.

“I’ll be with you every step of the way. I promised no harm would befall you, and I meant it.” She pauses then adds when Ominis remains silent, “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I’m more than pleased you have met Highwing. We can return to the castle-,”

“I’ll do it.” Ominis interjects. He raises his head up with a sureness in his voice, “I would like to fly. With you.” 

“Oh, Ominis! You’re going to really enjoy this.” She swells with enthusiasm while she helps him mount Highwing. His heart flutters in his chest at the feeling of being on top of such a mighty being then his heart nearly soars out of his chest when he feels her right behind him. 

“Hold on here.” She wraps his hands around a few tufts of feathers at the base of Highwing’s neck. “And whenever you’re ready, tell her, ‘Highwing, go’. Then she’ll do the rest.” 

Ominis situates himself, but he doesn’t know how to brace for what’s to come. He sucks in a sharp breath then says, “Highwing, go.” 

Without further prompting, Highwing takes off at a dead sprint with a sharp cry. Ominis’ heart jumps into his throat and he fully collapses against Highwing, wrapping his arms around her neck. He’s jerked and jolted with every move of Highwing’s four legs. He hears her wings unfurl from under them. The breath leaves from his chest as Highwing leaps into the air and with a few mighty beats of her wings he knows they’re airborne.

Highwing flies higher and higher until Ominis’ fears they’re so far from the ground he would surely have fainted if he did have sight. It isn’t until Highwing planes out and shifts into an easy glide does his heart finally stop threatening to rip out of his chest. 

“Ominis! We’re flying!” Her voice is nearly carried away by the wind as they soar through the skies. He’s aware of her arms tight around his chest and his heart’s now beating rapidly for a different reason. Ominis calms himself enough to take in what is happening. He manages to pull out his wand and the sensations he feels is amazing. Wide open space with the ground far below them. He believes they’re going over the tops of trees. Clouds are just within their reach above them and a great smile comes over him. 

“We’re flying!” He shouts with a nervous laugh. 

Highwing glides down and Ominis smells the Black Lake before he feels the cool spray upon his wind-chilled face. Flying is far better than he could have ever imagined. Having had Sebastian try to describe broom flight in detail, Sebastian left out this undeniable sense of freedom. Perhaps this is due to the mode of transportation he’s currently on, Ominis thinks to himself. 

Ominis slowly releases his death grip on Highwing and spreads his arms out similar to the beast below him. He can hear her laughing while he begins to whoop and holler. She mimics his cries of joy with her own until they’re both laughing with glee. Highwing shifts and Ominis quickly grabs hold with a surprised cry. Highwing soars past the lake and follows along the river with ease. Ominis could spend hours flying, he realizes. 

Her arms around his chest tightens before she rests her head upon his back. It’s like he had been dunked in an ice bath then surrounded by an all too warm blanket. He wishes he could see her expression. He imagines it’s tranquil right now with how she rests on him. He engrains everything he can about this moment into his mind. The wind ruffling his air, the feathers in his hands, Highwing’s mighty wings just under his legs, and her hold around him. 

Before he knows it, Highwing takes them into a smooth landing at, where he presumes, they first took off. She releases her hold on him then dismounts. She assists him in doing the same. It takes a moment for his legs to return to him, finding the ground to be spinning after such an experience. Ominis turns back towards the majestic beast.

“Thank you, Highwing.” Ominis gives another low bow towards the creature. A chirp then a nudge of her beak against his temple is all the indication he needs and he walks away with a wide smile.

“Not bad for your first flight.” She grins. 

Ominis, not waiting for her, seeks out her hand until he’s able to securely latch onto it. He wonders if she can feel the tremors still racking through his body from such a thrilling experience.

“I must say, I see the appeal of it. I don’t think there’s anything quite like it.” Ominis hums in thought. “Sebastian’s going to be green with envy when I tell him.” 

“So, that must mean you would be interested in flying with me again sometime?” She wonders. 

His smile gives himself away. He knows this, as she giggles with excitement. 

“I can’t wait until our next flight then.” She squeezes his hand. “Now, since we’re already off campus, how about a butterbeer to celebrate?” 

He nods, “A butterbeer would be perfect right about now. My treat.” 

----------------------------------

AN: When I first rode on Highwing, I nearly cried. Then I was bummed cause my computer took a shit on itself and lagged out and there was no music as Natty and I flew by campus. And you know damn well I did the whole 'glide over the lake just barely touching it' bit. I have ZERO shame NONE! Hopefully the next playthrough I'll get the full experience cause just wow. So freaking cool.

Thanks again for reading! Hope you enjoyed! <3

Read more of my Ominis Fics Here!

[sebsallowapologist]

Some headcanons or drabbles for Sebastian with an MC that gets progressively more distant as time goes on? Like, the detachment is mutual after the end of the game, but they (Sebastian and ominis) still notice something’s up with their former friend. first it’s ominis, who’s paying more attention (since Sebastian avoids MC, and ominis avoids Sebastian). The Gaunt is starting to realize that MC is taking more and more trips out into the forest and school grounds, with little human interaction. Both Seb and Ominis soon realize that they really don’t know anything about their friend. Not their past, not their home life. not even their blood status. Sure, they’re mostly rumored to be halfblood, but have they ever confirmed?just them realizing that they might not know their friend at all. And that their friend is slowly slipping away, mentally and emotionally. Either an angsty or fluffy ending, your choice :)

Oh I love this! And thank you so much for giving me a distraction at work- Monday was getting to be a little too much. (and since I wrote it at work, it's unedited)

word count: 1.4k

warnings: cursing, cannon level violence, mention of death, depression, and a bit of hope.

at the end of fifth year- when MC didn’t turn Sebastian in, there had been enough death and loss and hurt. But so much hurt that it was hard to be around each other, everyone just drifted. There was a vague understanding between the trio that no one would say anything, but it came with tension that could cut a knife- how could they still be friends when no one could look each other in the eye?

Ominis thought that he and MC would somewhat get over it. If anything he thought he’d have someone to talk to about the whole ordeal but MC was barely more than a ghost. The only sign that she attended the school was that she would show up in class- and that was only sometimes. When she did show up she was always the last one in the door and the first one out. 

He’d asked Poppy, Natty- for Merlin’s sake he even spoke to Leander about it, but the most he got was Natty knowing she was going into the forbidden forest. She was also worried for their mutual friend, but assured Ominis that MC knew how to handle herself. 

Sebastian had been avoiding MC AND had been abiding by Ominis’ rule that he didn’t want to be friends anymore, but at least he had been around. Ominis had heard him in the common room, dining hall, speaking to some of their other roommates. He sounded different, his voice softer, deeper, like everything he said was under his breath. But at least he was there. 

Three months into the term - and after a full week of MC missing classes- Ominis finally works himself up by speaking to Sebastian about it, grabbing his arm as they leave the charms classroom and corralling him in the hallway after class. 

“Have you seen her?” Ominis asks. 

Sebastian blinks a few times at his former best friend- shock painting his features. “Seen who?”

“MC you prick.” 

Sebastian's tone lowers, sadness coating his throat. “Ominis I haven’t spoken to her- she hasn’t looked at me in months.” 

“You haven’t looked at her either.” Ominous argues. 

“You don’t know that- you’re blind.” 

“Thank you for reminding me, prat. I know I’m blind. But I’m not stupid I know how you are.” Ominis scoffs. He wasn’t wrong, Sebastian avoided the girl he cared so much for like the plague. She’d already done him the kindness of not turning him in to waste his life away in Azkaban, he wasn’t going to make her life any harder than that. 

“Something’s wrong. She’s not talking to me, or Poppy. Or anyone. Leander said it’s like she can’t even hear him in Divination.” 

“To be fair I would understand if she was avoiding that git too.” 

“Sebastian be serious, she’s coming back hurt.” 

Sebastian knew that she’d come back from the forest in the middle of the night with cuts and bruises. Knew that she show’d up to class with dark circles under her eyes. Her hair and skin looked dull, her clothes were always wrinkled. Sebastian also knew that it was his fault that she looked like that- felt like that. He carried the guilt with him every day.

“And what am I supposed to do about it? Show up and remind her why she feels like that? I’d make it worse, Ominis.”  

“What if it’s not about you- bloody narcissist. What about her ancient magic- Or about Fig’s death. What if it’s her family?”

“Her parents are- muggles? Right?” Sebastian blushes, muggles were never too upsetting. He actually didn’t know much about her family, another reason to feel guilty. She knew every part of his family's issues and he didn’t even know the name of her parents- or if they were wizards. 

“Do you know where her ancient magic comes from?” Sebastian says, taking Ominis’s elbow to lead him out of the hallway crowded with students. “No- you always knew more about that than me.” 

Sebastian blushed. He only ever cared to know what could help Anne. He can’t remember asking her about how she came about it. 

The hunt of MC actually brought Sebastian and Ominis closer than either one of them thought was possible. They went back to their dormitories and started writing down everything they new about MC- which was frighteningly little. Sebastian wasn’t the only one feeling ashamed about how little time he took to get to know someone who’s saved his life. 

They head out that night, after talking to Natty again about what she knew about MC’s trips to the forest, she didn’t know exactly where she was going, but it was always north of the castle, but west of Hogsmeade. 

They spend three nights, back to back combing the forest for their friend, but it’s impossible and the deeper they went the more dangerous it all felt. 

Eventually- after they spent over a week looking for her she just showed back up in the middle of dinner, walked in, grabbed a few rolls off the end of the table and turned right back out the door. Sebastian tells Ominis quickly where he’s going and follows her out the door.

Last week he might have been more timid, he might have worried about speaking to her. But now, she thinks she can disappear off of the face of the earth for two weeks and just waltz back in like nothing ever happened? Who does she think she is?

He rounds a corner and finds they’re alone in the hallway. “HEY!” Sebastian yells and she turns around. Immediately her face hardens. “OH! I’m worth speaking to!”

Sebastian just ignores her. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Dinner you arse.” 

“No! What do you think you’re doing just bloody disappearing like that! You had us worried SICK!” Sebastian yells, throwing his arms up in the air.

“Excuse me?” MC asks, livid. “I’m sorry since when the fuck do you care about me at all. I’m useless to you now, Sallow. Leave me the fuck alone.” 

“Do you think THAT’S what this is?” Sebastian asks, walking closer to her, the black eye and cut on her nose coming into view. “What else?” She scoffs, taking a bite of her bread. “What can I help you with?” 

“You can tell me what the hell you’ve been up to.”

“Why do you care all of a sudden?” She scoffs and Sebastian just explodes, Ominis walks into the hallway as Sebastian unleashes on their friend. 

“I’ve always bloody cared! I’m sorry if I didn’t always show you the way I should, but for fucks sake you can’t be so daft you think I don’t care at all.” 

Tears well in MC’s eyes, but she’s just as furious as Sebastian is. “I know you don’t care. You haven’t spoken to me once this term. I’m nothing to you now- nothing to the both of you.” 

“That is not true.” Ominis mumbles. 

“Oh yeah? Then where were you, Gaunt? All summer I couldn’t WAIT to get back here- to talk to someone who GOT it, who understands what we went through and I’m- I was left with NOTHING. NO ONE!” She yells, throwing her dinner rolls, one at Sebastian and one at Ominis.

It’s dead silent for a moment.

Sebastian breathes, “You’re right.” 

“What?” 

“We- I avoided you. Ignored you. Didn’t look after you like I should. Like you looked after me. And I’m so sorry- I thought you’d want nothing to do with me? How could you after-”

“Don’t make this about you. I c-I can’t handle that right now.”

“You’re right.” He says, walking closer to MC with his palms open, facing her. “I’m just sorry, and I want to start the year over and I want to start everything over. Ask you all the questions I should have. I was too caught up in my shit to be a good friend, but I can be a good friend now. Right Ominis? We can be good friends now?”

“I have always-”

“Ominis” Sebastian bites. Ominis couldn’t see just how badly MC was shaking, but Sebastian knew she was on the edge. 

“I can be a better friend.” Ominis promises.  

Slowly Sebastian wraps his arms around MC in a hug, bringing her tightly into his chest. He gives her the lightest kiss on the top of her head and tucks her under his chin. 

“You’re both so up your own arse.” She mumbles into Sebastian’s chest, squeezing him tightly. Ominis comes up and wraps his arms around the both of us. “You’re half right.”

[fortheloveof-sebastian]

The One Who Has My Heart

Pairings: Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Summary: The second task of the Triwizard Tournament is to recover what’s been taken from you…little do you know just how true that is.

Warnings: potential kidnapping?, kissing, fluff

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: This request is for @scarydeadlavender Thank you for the prompt, I hope you enjoy it😁

Currently, you’re standing on a platform that’s been erected out of the lake. A few hundred feet below you, the surface of the lake roiled, dark and murky; it made sense why it had earned the nickname of the Black Lake. It wasn’t too difficult to imagine terrifying creatures dwelling within the unpredictable waters.

If the other two champions — a broad shouldered boy from Durmstrang and a wispy, waif-like girl from Beaxbatons — were nervous about this task, this didn’t show it. In fact, they stood on two adjacent platforms, leaning forward with intent.

Your eyes scan the crowd nervously.

Still no Sebastian. You can’t help but feel disappointed by his apparent absence. Where else could he be? He even told you the night before that he would be ready to congratulate you on another win, considering that he had been in detention during the first task. You had tried to assuage his guilt on missing out by insisting that it didn’t matter — and it didn’t, not really — but it had lifted your spirits to think that he might be watching today.

“ — have precisely an hour to recover what’s been taken from them.”

A whistle blows, and the other two champions waste no time diving into the water. You shake your heads, dislodging your worries of Sebastian. A roar of impatience and disbelief assails you from the Hogwarts student section, shouting at you to go and launching you into movement.

You take a deep breath and swan dive into the lake, the icy water engulfing you. The shock nearly immobiles you, until you open your eyes and notice the two other champions are already swimming away, leaving behind a trail of bubbles in their wake.

“I’m here.”

You turn, relieved. Staring back at you is a mermaid, more otherworldly than human, with hair that flows and waves in the current like the tangled black seaweed below you.

The mermaid encircles her arms around your neck and latches a necklace there. Instantly, the pressure of holding your breath releases, and the water clears significantly. The necklace granted you breathing and visibility abilities beneath the water, a special relic that the mermaid swore to bring to you — thanks to Ominis, of course.

Sebastian told you in confidence that his fellow Slytherin had struck up a friendship with one of the fishy beasts, and upon hearing about your latest task, you knew that it would be a great help. Ominis was incensed, understandably, that Sebastian had given away another one of his closely guarded secrets but eventually conceded. After all, he wanted Hogwarts to win the Triwizard Tournament as bad as anyone.

You and Ominis struck a deal with the mermaid, after Ominis vaguely declared that she owed him a favor.

Part of you didn’t believe she would come, most likely because you didn’t trust this mermaid. Her name was Kaya, and she had taken an instant liking to Sebastian as soon as she saw him. Too much of a liking for your taste.

“They said that I needed to recover what’s been taken from me,” you tell Kaya, recalling the only instruction you managed to catch.

The mermaid smiles knowingly. Or else, you think that she’s smiling. Her mouth, lined with razor sharp teeth, looks more cunning then helpful. “And what are you missing, human?”

You rack your brain. Was this task metaphorical? Did they secretly steal away with something from your dorm in the middle of the night?

Then, it strikes you — Sebastian. Sebastian was missing.

Your heart pounds. You knew he wouldn’t have missed for just any reason! But that means that he was here somewhere, in the lake.

“Sebastian,” you say aloud. “Where is he?”

“He’s safe,” the mermaid says.

You narrow your eyes. “Where. Is. He.”

“I helped you with your task,” the mermaid hauntily replies. “So I’ve just taken my payment.”

“If recovering Sebastian is my task, and you’ve taken him, then you have not helped me!” You shout. Red hot anger shoots through you. “You can’t do this. Bring me to Sebastian. Now.”

“Mr. Gaunt said that I only had to give you the mermaid relic,” Kaya says.

Your hands form into fists. “He also said that you have to help me win.” Resisting the urge to throttle the mermaid, you demand, “You have to take me to Sebastian or else your debt with Ominis — er, Mr. Gaunt — will not be repaid.”

Fae can not be trusted, you remember from your studies. But they also take favors and debts seriously, which you hope is enough to convince this magical creature to listen.

The mermaid studies you for a moment, and it’s as if you can feel your alotted time to complete the task slipping away. Finally, she sighs. “Fine, follow me. But keep up. I won’t go back for you.”

Easier said than done. It’s a battle to keep up with her — although she might’ve alleviated your need to breath air and your poor human vision, you aren’t nearly as fast as her. Her fishlike body cuts effortlessly through the seaweed, churning up sand and rocks in your face as you scramble after her. Fortunately for you, her supposed hiding place isn’t far from where you had dived into the lake from the platforms.

The mermaid points inside the mouth of an underwater cave. “He’s in there.”

You don’t have time to debate whether or not she’s telling the truth. At this point, your concern isn’t about the tournament but whether Sebastian is safe. Forcing your way into the cave, you navigate through the pitch darkness for a few feet before remembering that you have your wand. “Lumos,” you whisper.

Light illuminates your surroundings.

And there, at the end of the narrow tunnel, lays Sebastian. His eyes are closed, and if it wasn’t for the seaweed binding him, you would’ve assumed he was just asleep.

Frantically you dart forward and grab him.

“Depulso!” The spell propels you out of the cave. You cling to Sebastian, his body limply bumping next to yours as you swim for the surface.

The mermaid is nowhere to be found, but you prefer it that way. Cupping your hands, you fight your way to the surface, kicking your legs as fast as you can. Your muscles scream at you but you don’t stop until your bursting above the water, greeted by a chorus of cheers.

Durmstrung has already made it back.

You’re rescued by two older wizards who use their wands to carry you back up onto the platforms. Only then does Sebastian snap out of whatever trance he’s in — sputtering and heaving as he coughs up lake water.

“What’s going on?” He asks weakly.

Quickly you cut him free from his seaweed binding, and help him into a sitting position.

“How much do you know?”

Sebastian shakes his head, the motion sending out droplets of water onto your robes. His lashes are wet also, spiky, beads of water collecting on the ends and somehow, despite having literally just been dragged up from the bottom of a lake, he looks infuriatingly handsome.

“I—not much.” He frowns. “I remember leaving the common room and then…nothing.”

You quickly fill him in: about the task, the mermaid, and his temporary kidnapping. He listens attentively, his features morphing from confusion to shock, and then back to confusion.

“She kidnapped me?” He echoes. Sebastian leans back on his hands. “Well, I suppose I can’t blame her. I am rather good looking.”

You scowl at him. “I should’ve left you for mermaid chow.”

“But wait, if I was unconscious, then that means that I missed another one of your tasks,” he says, straightening. A look of guilt passes over his face.

“It’s not like you could really help it,” you say empathetically. “If you think about it, you’ve been kidnapped twice within the last twenty four hours. I suppose I can forgive you.”

He clasps your hand. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Sebastian, you really don’t have to —”

“And Durmstrang wins the second task!” The announcer booms. “One task Hogwarts, one task Durmstrang. Join us for the last task for the tiebreaker!”

Later that evening, you get an owl from Sebastian requesting your presence. You’ve been trying not to pity yourself for losing the task today, although it’s hard not to when your fellow Hogwarts students cast you accusatory glares. There’s no way you can refuse Sebastian, though — the cheeky bugger — so you heave yourself from beneath your covers and get dressed.

The Slytherin common room is mostly empty, besides a few students who are studying. You traipse inside uncertainly; Sebastian gave you little instructions, just to meet.

“Sebastian?” You call out.

Avoiding the pointed glares from a few of the students, you round one of the magnificent columns and spot a familiar backside. Sebastian’s turned away from you but whirls to face you when he senses your presence. Delight breaks out on his face.

He hastily fills the space between you in two long strides, then sweeps you into a passionate embrace. When his lips find yours, you’re taken aback by his fervent display of affection — it’s as if you’ve been apart for a dreadfully long time, and he can’t wait to reunite. You melt into the kiss. Sebastian’s hands slip behind your neck and around your waist, pulling you close. You’re busy relishing the moment when you suddenly hear the telltale sound of water being splashed.

You pull away from Sebastian just in time to see a large fin swish away from the view of the window looking out into the lake.

“Was that—?”

“Maybe,” Sebastian says, grinning.

“Sebastian,” you scold him. The matching grin that unfurls on your face negates the scalding nature of your tone. “That’s so impolite.”

“What? I think it’s a fitting punishment for a potential kidnapper,” he says defensively.

“Are you going to kiss me in front of the entire Triwizard board then, too?”

Sebastian’s grin widens. “Only if you insist.”

“I can’t believe you,” you say, laughing in disbelief but allowing him to ensnare you in another toe curling kiss anyway.

He punctuates the kiss with several smaller ones, peppering them from the corners of your mouth to the top of your noise. “Why not? I can’t just go around letting psychotic, kidnapping mermaids think they have a chance with me. Everyone needs to know who really has my heart.”

[feathersandfairytales]

Kiss and make up [S.S & O.G]

Warnings: Potential spoilers for the 'In the shadow of the Study' questline, panic attacks, a single swear, descriptions of pain & angst, but with a fluffy and slightly steamy (but not exactly smutty) ending.

Synopsis: During their time in the scriptorium, reader has a panic attack. Although both Sebastian and Ominis are hesitant, the reader eventually convinces Sebastian to cast crucio on them.

Word count: 1,080

Poly!Sebastian x reader x Ominis

A/n: Reader is gender neutral and can be imagined as a member of any house, although it is implied that they are MC. Also, this isn't proof read please don't come at me. Lemme know if you guys want a part two that's just filthy smut 👀

You felt your heart catch in your throat. Your body tensed up as your eyes sat transfixed upon the aged stone of the scriptorium. The words etched there was unmistakable, the cruciatus curse, the torture curse. The spell that caused excruciated agony to shoot through its victim. You were so stunned you didn't even register the thud of the door locking and closing behind you. You felt sick, eyes refusing to meet Sebastian's as you stood still in place. "What? What is it?" Ominis' voice broke the silence, a mix of concern and fear.  "Your Aunt Noctua..she's.." Sebastian paused, looking up at his boyfriend with a sad gaze. "I'm sorry, Ominis..." His words, however vague they may have been, and saddened tone must have been enough to inform Ominis of his Aunt's fate. Ominis' face dropped, but he didn't seem outright sad- probably sheltering his emotions, as he was known to do. It had taken Sebastian and you quite a while to get Ominis as comfortable with his feelings as he was.

"We have to use crucio to get out of here." Your voice finally cut through, wavering a little. Ominis' glazed over eyes widened, and he began to pace. "No, no, no! There has to be some other way. I refuse to cast it-!" He spoke frantically, losing his usual suave composure. You felt like you were going to be sick right now- even the idea of either of your boyfriends being in excruciating pain had you feeling dizzy and emotional. "What if I cast it? That way you don't have to go through that again, and (y/n) won't have to learn it?" Sebastian suggested with an almost alarmingly calm tone, as if he hadn't just suggested using an unforgivable curse.

"Don't be ridiculous, Sebastian! There has to be some other way that we can get out of here. Look around- (y/n), my dear, can you see anything?" His raised voice softened as he addressed you, as did his gaze in your general direction. "There's no other way, Ominis. It's either crucio or we end up stuck in here to die like your aunt." Sebastian spoke again, voice dark and knuckles white from clutching his wand. You couldn't hear what they were saying as your senses became overwhelmed, vision blurring and breaths heaving. You leaned against one of the walls for support, trying to fight back sobs and push down your anxities. Hearing your lovers argue was one of the most painful things to you, and this situation was just becoming far too much for you to handle. It was only when you felt strong arms around your middle that you came back to your senses, Sebastian's familiar earthy scent filling your nostrils. You heard Ominis shushing you quietly, his hand raking through your hair.

"So, you can stop fighting for me, but not for eachother?" You choked out quietly, using the sleeve of your robes to wipe away your tears. You turned to them, tone almost a whsiper as you spoke. "Just cast it on me and get it done with already..please." Sebastian nodded solemnly, knowing it was the only choice they had to escape. "I'm sorry, (y/n)." He spoke barely above a whisper, before a deep red light emitted from his wand, striking you straight in the chest. Before you could even blink, you'd crumpled to the stone floor in excruciating pain. Screams ripped themselves from your throat unwillingly, hot painful tears streaming down your cheeks. It felt like every cell of your body was on fire, begging and screaming for mercy. You couldn't couldn't think, your mind hazy with pain as you heaved out jagged breaths. Eventually, it all became too much to handle, spots dancing in your vision. It felt like you were underwater, barely able to make out the screams of your name from both Sebastian and Ominis.

~~~~~

By the time you came around, your head throbbed and your mind was foggy. You cracked open your eyes slightly, noting that instead of the cold floor of Salazaar Slytherin's scriptorium, you were on a comfortable couch inside the room of requirement. Although you were in less pain than when crucio had initially been cast on you, your body still ached quite badly. The bright lights overhead hurt your eyes, but you began to sit up nonetheless. "Oh, fuck-!" You gasped out, hand immediately finding purchase on your side as your body thrummed with pain.

Catching movement from the corner of your eye, you gazed over to find Sebastian and Ominis looking at you worriedly, albeit hints of sleep in both their eyes. Judging by their close proximity, your boyfriends had fallen asleep cuddling with eachother. "Don't move too quickly, you're still hurt." Sebastian spoke worriedly, voice a low rumble as he'd just woken up. How long had you been out? Your mouth tasted faintly of the bitterness of wiggenweld potion- had one of them given it to you while you were out? Ominis wordlessly stood, wrapping his arms around you and cuddling into the couch with you. "We're sorry, (y/n). We were both idiots- we didn't think about how our fighting would affect you. You have enough stress on your plate, with Ranrok and the poachers." Ominis spoke quietly, looking to the ground. "I'm especially sorry...I hated having to cast crucio on you, my love." His eyes were glazed over with tears, which broke your heart. "You did what you had to, Sebastian. We would have died in there if not for you having the courage to cast it." You took his hand into yours, placing a soft kiss on the calloused skin. "We were all just under pressure. No hard feelings, okay? I love the both of you very much." You smiled, slowly easing yourself up into a sitting position. Only, to be pushed back down by Ominis, who kept his hand on your chest. A flustered blush rose to your cheeks at the action, your breath catching in your throat.

Ominis used his free hand to begin unbuttoning his shirt. Sebastian followed suit, shifting his own green and black robes off of his shoulders. The brunette placed a warm kiss against your lips, and you felt Ominis' hands working to slip your robes from your body. "I take it you two made up then?" You gasped out between feverish kisses to your lips. "Yes. We did." Ominis replied through kisses to your neck, a hand resting on your thigh. "Now let us make it up to you, love." Sebastian whispered into your ear with a dark smirk, sharp teeth grazing your earlobe. Oh lord, you were in for a long night.

[fog-and-rust]

Hogwarts Legacy Incorrect Quotes Part 7 (feat. my Hufflepuff!MC, Ellie)

Zenobia: I'm going to be an adult in 4 years and I only have a vague idea of what I'm going to do.

Ellie: I’m gonna be an adult in less than a year and I don’t know what I’m doing with my life.

Professor Garlick: I'm an adult and I don't know what I'm doing with my life.

Ominis: Three types of people.

***

[After summer break]

Ellie: *running towards Ominis with open arms*

Ominis: *moves out of the way*

Ellie: Hey, why'd you move?!

Ominis: I thought you were going to attack me.

Ellie: I was going to hug you!

Ominis: Why would you hug me?

Ellie: WHY WOULD I ATTACK YOU!?

***

Lenora: Something tells me Ellie's going to be a bit more unhinged today...

Ellie, with armful of Chinese Chomping Cabbages: Leave me be, cousin Leander isn't here to stop me, I'm going feral.

[A few moments later]

Garreth, pointing a camera at Ellie: There she is, our precious cinnamon scone.

Ellie, leading her little army of cabbages and chasing Puffskein Dunkein: What-?

***

Imelda: Madam Kogawa asked me to tell you about your new assignment, but I think it might make you jump from Astronomy Tower again.

Ellie: Just say it quick, like ripping off a band-aid.

Imelda: You have to teach Ominis how to fly on a broom.

Ellie: ... put the band-aid back on.

***

Ellie: In Garreth's defense, I’ve done some pretty dumb stuff even before I tried his latest concoction.

***

Ellie, in Headmaster's Office: I'll write Professor Black a friendly note. Dear... Incompetent... Dumbass...

***

Leander: I don’t care what anyone thinks about me.

Ellie: Ok.

Leander: Wait, why such a muted reaction? Did that not sound cool?

***

[Beasts are like Pokemons, gonna catch them all]

Ellie: Hey, you want a tarot reading?

Duncan: Those are Beasts cards.

Ellie: You got a Golden Snidget.

Duncan: ...

Ellie: It means 'you're fucked'.

***

[Let's speculate on other games]

Ellie, setting down a card: Sorting Hat.

Amit, pulling out an Arithmancy card: +4.

Poppy, pulling out a Beasts card: Grindylow, I choose you!

Leander, trembling: What are we playing?!

***

Leander: Can we talk about that howlers you sent?

Amit: All it says is, "I'm back on my idiocy".

Ellie, shrugging: The people need to know.

***

Richard Jackdaw: Don't joke about murder. I was murdered once and it offends me.

***

Leander: Ellie and I were at Summoner's Court, and Duncan flew by and shouted at us.

Ominis: What did she do?

Leander: She chased him to Ravenclaw tower, and broke into the Common Room, and-

Ellie: *dropping from above, casting Levioso on herself* Who wants a new broom seat?

***

Ellie: Garreth is a precious angel who’s never done anything wrong in his entire life!

Leander: Never done anything wrong?! He set our dormitory on FIRE!

***

Ellie: Where is that blasted Daedalian key?

Amit: Ellie, Zenobia and Lucan are around, can you say it a little nicer?

Ellie: May I ascertain the whereabouts of the LAST BLASTED DAEDALIAN KEY?!

***

Ellie: Your potion station is in the bathroom?

Garreth: Leander says this is the perfect place for my work. I’m just now realizing that remark may not have been entirely complimentary.

***

[In Great Hall]

Garreth: Amit won't come from Astronomy Tower but I really need his help with homework.

Ellie, to Zenobia: Please, go to Amit and tell him I said something.

Zenobia: Like what?

Ellie: Anything factually incorrect.

Zenobia, shrugging: If you say so.

[A few moments later]

Amit: Did you just say the sun is a PLANET?

***

[In Hogsmeade]

Ellie: We’re going to Honeydukes?!

Leander: No! It’s nighttime, Honeydukes is closed.

Garreth: We’re gonna ROB Honeydukes?!?!

Leander, sighing: No-

***

Ellie: Guess what?

Leander: What?

Ellie: No, you have to guess.

Leander, thinking: I don’t know.

Ellie: I've been to Azkaban.

Leander: Why would you make me guess that?!

Leander: What happened?!

***

Leander: Ellie just insisted I remember a code word in case I'm ever confronted by someone impersonating her under Polyjuice Potion and I'm not sure which is the real her and which is the imposter.

Leander: Some families have a fire escape plan, but not us.

***

Leander: *receives an owl* Oh! It’s Ellie.

Garreth, excitedly: Did she get me the stuff?

Leander: Yeah, she says she got you the Fwooper feathers, dried Billywig stings and 12 gallons of Troll blood.

Garreth: Wow! Where’d she find 12 gallons of fake Troll blood?

Leander: You wanted fake blood?

Garreth: ...

Leander: I’ll go write Ellie.

[fukae-flwr]

"You are NOT My Enemy!"

Tw: mentions of death and ptsd (longer one shot sorry not sorry)

He awoke to the sounds of loud gasping, near the precipice of being a scream but not quite there. The walls were unbelievably thin, and with his unmatched hearing, there was no way he wouldn't have heard it. He wasn't in a deep slumber to begin with, not after the day he's had. Ominis looked over to his left to find Sebastian soundly asleep, with soft snores coming from him. It wasn't surprising to find Sebastian had climbed into his bed in the middle of the night. They often shared a bed, but in this situation, trying to get out without waking him would be quite difficult.

He slowly and carefully pulled his body from the mattress, only for Sebastian to stir.

"Where are you going?" Sebastian mumbled, barely awake, eyes still closed.

"For a glass of water. I'll be right back." Ominis whispered, his wand in hand. As he reached the door, he heard the soft snores of Sebastian return once more. Chuckling to himself how easily his partner could fall right back asleep, he exited the guest room into the hall. The cottage wasn't very big, but it was definitely larger than any back in Feldcroft. Edith seemed to be doing quite well for herself, for someone on the run from the ministry.

With his wand giving him a vague glimpse to his surroundings, he walked the hall till he heard soft footsteps in front of where Edith's door was located. The sound was much smaller and lighter than any full adult, so it had to be her house elf. His assumption was correct when the elf's voice greeted him quietly.

"Oh good evening, Mr.Ominis. Was there something the matter?" Penny whispered.

"Good evening, Penny. No, not at all. I was simply wondering if Edith was alright. I heard something from my room." Ominis explained. He heard the small elf's heart pick up a tad bit, seemingly nervous all the sudden.

"Oh um well Penny really shouldn't say. It is not Penny's place..." she mummbled, talking relatively fast. Ominis immediately knelt to the ground in front of the elf.

"Penny, please. If something is the matter, you must tell me." Ominis pleaded softly. There was a moment of silence before she let out a soft sigh.

"Mistress Edith has terrible nightmares. Most nights, there is no issue. Only Mistress doesn’t sleep much, but there are certain nights when Mistress Edith wakes horribly. She often calls for Penny to bring her tea on those nights and then never leaves her room for quite some time. Mistress usually comes back after a day or so but Penny worries for Mistress during that time." Penny rambled quietly.

Ominis blinked, making sure he was understanding, trying to listen carefully with how quickly she was speaking. He had to ignore the soft creak of a door behind them just to focus on Penny's spill of words. He knew Sebastian must've gotten up from hearing their soft chatter.

"Where is she now?" Ominis asked.

"Penny just brought Mistress Edith a cup of tea. She's in her room. Please help her. Penny is very worried." Penny begged.

Ominis felt bad for the elf. To be so worried about her master, it was apparent how much she cared about Edith.

Ominis nodded, not sure how he'd be able to help with something like this. He wasn't even sure if she would let him help. They weren’t as close as they used to be, but he wasn't about to let that stop him. He still cared for her, and no one should cry alone.

He carefully took hold of the handle to Edith's room and surprisingly found it unlocked. Quietly, he opened the door and immediately heard the tell-tale sign of crying. Soft wet sniffs, and her voice in a whisper, muttering something about being useless and apologies. He moved from the door frame, closing the door till there was only a crack. He knew the one lingering in the shadows was probably wanting to listen in, even though he could easily come in as well.

"G..go away, Penny," Edith's voice came out in a harsh whisper. He had never heard her voice so fragile before, not even when they were at hogwarts.

"No need to be so harsh with her. She's only trying to help you." Ominis suggested, making his presence known. His only response was the sound of her sudden stop of noise, no sniffing, no short breath, nothing. His wand didn't give him the best image of the dark room, but what he could make out was the small table in front of him and her on the window alcove.

He moved forward carefully, his feet on carpeted floors, and his wand blessing him with the sight of her outline. She was hunched over, and possibly had her hair covering her face and shoulders.

"D..Did I wake you?" She asked, attempting to sound composed. It wasn't fooling him.

"Indeed, the walls are extremely thin." Ominis stood infront of her, looking down where she sat.

"Apologies. I'll be sure to use a silencing charm next time." She responded bitterly.

"Don't bother. It'll only be more concerning if your room is deathly silent. I'll be inclined to check on you more." Ominis shrugged. It was so clear the warmth she had when she spoke earlier today had left with the sun, leaving only the cold and shadows of night. She was always distant, but this felt so very different.

"What do you want, Ominis?" Edith grumbled, her tone coming off exhausted and annoyed.

"For you to tell me what is going on. Why are you here crying alone?" Ominis knelt down, lowering himself to her level.

"Nothing that concerns you, so leave." She spoke harshly. If Ominis had learned anything from Sebastian it was how to never give up. He wasn't going to just leave her be despite how he probably should have.

"I'd say anything causing you pain is my concern." He stated calmly. He was not going to hide his feelings. He cared for her and it was clear she needed someone to lean on for a moment despite her impeccable walls she had built. He carefully reached for her hand against the cushions of the alcove only for her to violently retreat from his touch.

"Why do you care, Ominis?!" She roared, catching him off gaurd, "Why does it matter?! I abandoned you and Sebastian. I let everyone I cared about die! Now Anne's in trouble, and it's all my fault! You are an aurora, and I am your enemy! I embody everything you hate, so don't pretend to care! Just hate me like everyone else and leave me alone!" She raged, pulling away from him. He could hear the tears from the cracking of her voice. Ominis quickly took hold of both of her wrists and held them close to his chest. She struggled to free herself, but he wasn't letting go. Not now, not ever.

"Let me go!"

"Listen to me! You are not my enemy! You will never be my enemy! The ministry could pay a thousand times over, and I will never turn against you. I have always cared for you, and I'm sorry I can't ease your pain." Ominis held onto her, terrified she'd slip away if he loosened even a little bit. Her trembling hands in his felt so delicate, just like that night at the gala.

She had gone still in his hands. Her heart racing so fast he feared he was making things worse. He didn't know how to help her, but he so desperately wanted to. Was this a fraction of what Sebastian felt, trying to save Anne? By Merlin, it hurt so much to know she was suffering and he couldn't do anything to help.

"I can't make the pain go away, but I can listen. I can comfort you when you need it, but...please don't suffer alone. I don't know who you've lost, but you shouldn't shoulder the burden all by your lonesome. I am here, Edith." Ominis begged, his voice full of the pain he felt hearing her tears, hearing that unfamiliar fragile voice. He stroked her shaking wrists with his thumb, hoping it brought some sort of comfort.

She was so silent despite being so close, had it not been for her thundering heart, and her shaking wrists, he would've thought she vanished. The silence was defening before he heard her shuddering voice. A break in her walls, and hear the tears once more.

"I...I couldn't save any of them." Her voice came out so soft, barely a whisper. Her voice was what had cracked yet he felt it in himself.

"I couldn't save Professor Fig, nor Lodgok, and now Anne" he felt her head collapse onto her wrists he was holding. He couldn't say anything. He just held her weight and listened to her sorrows.

"I watched them die. I did nothing but watch! And we'll lose Anne too because I can't save anyone!" She sobbed into him. Finally releasing her arms, he wrapped around her and pulled her close into his chest. She was too distraught to care. She just cried into him, her tears almost making him fall apart. He couldn't, though. She needed him to be strong so she could break apart.

He remembered the day Professor Fig had died. She had seemed so drawn from everyone. Hardly spoke to anyone. Sebastian even said how she sat away from her house at the far end of the tables. When he had spoken with her, she barely spoke of Professor Fig, only simply moving on to tell Sebastian what she had learned about Anne's curse. The following year, she hardly ever mentioned Fig and seemed like everything had been forgotten. But it appears she had been suffering for so long. He didn't know much of this Lodgok, only bits Sebastian and her mentioned. A goblin friend of hers, but that's all she'd say. Now she was taking in this situation with Anne onto herself.

"You were a child, Edith. There's only so much you could've done. You can't blame yourself for their deaths. It wasn't your fault. And we will find Anne in time. Don't worry. You have Sebastian and I." Ominis stroked her hair as she shook.

"I..I failed him. I could've saved him...and I didn't!" Edith cried into his shoulder. Her grip around him tightened as if she was clinging to him for dear life. The way she stuttered with her words shattered his soul. How could he fix this? The one person cared for the most in this world and all he could do was stand by, watching her fall apart.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered. He knew it wasn't him she apologizing to. Though he wished he could give her the closure she needed. The only ones who could remained silent in the afterlife.

"You can't save everyone, but we won't fail Anne. I promise," Ominis assured. Holding her in his arms egnited a feeling in him, a feeling of protectiveness. He would do everything in his power to assure Edith didn't suffer alone anymore. And knew Sebastian in the hall would do so as well. They were not going to loose her again, not even to herself.

Hehehehehehehehehe! I finished my 3rd play through of the game and realized Mc hardly has time to process any deaths, so I made it my hc that Mc absolutely has ptsd from witnessing so much death from their 5th year. Hoped you guys enjoyed!!!

(Update: I added more cus I know i can do better!! (°͡ ͜ʖ °͡) )

[sebastianswallows]

Hello! Can you please share on how did you make the Sebastian Sallow c.ai accurately?

Hello, dear nonny!

Sure, I will share his details below the cut. In the meanwhile, I've found more accurate ways to make characters, and I'll share that too, but I can't edit Seb anymore because he has too many interactions lol

Mainly, I credit him being accurate to the Advanced Definition, basically the dialogue examples, all of which are taken word-for-word from the game (plus with narrative descriptions for some, to encourage a more formal style of writing in the AI). But I can't say for sure if that's the reason. It could very well be the Short Description has a big impact too.

Also, I've heard people say that the Greeting affects the RP very much, but I've left mine vague and simple so that people can do any RP with him they like.

So, here are the details for Seb:

Short Description

Loyal, bookish, smart, kind, brave, optimistic

Long Description

Sebastian Sallow is a 5th-year pure-blood Slytherin student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, born in 1875. He has brown hair, brown eyes, full lips, and freckles. He has a twin sister, Anne, who is suffering under a curse which he would do anything to cure. He loves to read books and is the best duellist at his school. He is skilled in the dark arts and considers all magic to be a tool to be used, even though his best friend, Ominis Gaunt, disagrees with this.

Advanced Definition

{{char}}: Ah! You're the new fifth-year. I'm Sebastian Sallow. Welcome to Slytherin. {{random_user_1}}: Thank you! {{char}}: Not everyone has a Ministry Escort to school. {{random_user_1}}: He was a friend of Professor Fig's who merely joined us for the ride. {{char}}: Still, impressive. Dreadful way to go, poor fellow. Glad you and Fig were alright. {{random_user_1}}: Professor Fig and I were lucky to escape with our lives. {{char}}: Indeed. And how did you escape? {{random_user_1}}: It's all still a bit of a blur, to be honest. {{char}}: Didn't mean to press. You just get yourself settled. We can talk more later. {{random_user_1}}: What book were you reading? {{char}}: A spell book I picked up. Has a few interesting things, but… not exactly what I was looking for. I'm sure you'll find out soon enough, but, not every spell you may need can be found in our assigned textbooks. END_OF_DIALOG {{char}}: "I was glad Professor Weasley asked me to join you today," he said as he walked ahead of her on their way to Hogsmeade. {{random_user_2}}: "As am I," she smiled." Thank you, by the way." {{char}}: "Of course. You're the only one who's ever bested me in a duel," said Sebastian with a chuckle. "The way I see it, I'd be wise to keep an eye on you." END_OF_DIALOG {{char}}: I'm still surprised a professor would entrust me with anything, given my detention record. {{random_user_3}}: Spend a lot of time in detention, do you? {{char}}: Just enough to keep me well-rounded. Speaking of detention, this trip to Hogsmeade might have saved me from one. {{random_user_3}}: Glad I could be of service. {{char}}: Madam Scribner, the Librarian, was on the hunt for me, as is often the case. Professor Weasley came to retrieve me and was able to convince old Scribner that I had somewhere to be. END_OF_DIALOG {{char}}: Well, three heads are better than one. {{random_user_4}}: It's "two heads are better than one". {{char}}: And by that logic, three is better than two. Simple mathematics. END_OF_DIALOG {{char}}: We made it! We found Salazar Slytherin's scriptorium. {{random_user_5}}: Sebasian! Ominis! There's a book just here. {{char}}: You found something? Can I have a look? {{random_user_5}}: What do you think? {{char}}: Looks like a spell book of some kind. This is incredible! A Hogwarts founder's possession, what an honour! Still can't believe Ominis never told me about his aunt, what she found… {{random_user_5}}: What will you do with Slytherin's spell book? {{char}}: What I do with every book: read it. Having professors as parents engrained that habit early on. But I can do that later. For now, I say we explore this room. It's breathtaking. END_OF_DIALOG {{char}}: "Perhaps that was it," he sighed after killing the last spider, "and the rest of the tomb will be insect-free." {{random_user_6}}: "Spiders aren't insects." {{char}}: Sebastian rolled his eyes. "Don't start." END_OF_DIALOG

Now, what I've read can be helpful for the character is if, in the Advanced Definition, before the dialogue examples, you include some characteristics in the format {{char}} = [description; such as appearance, likes and dislikes, personality, etc].

I used this when making Garreth, for instance.

I will paste here what I would include for Seb:

{{char}} = has brown hair, brown eyes, a lot of freckles, full lips, and a healthy body. His eyebrows are rather thick and strong, and his limbs are lean. He's tending toward being a bit broad, but is still quite thin. {{char}} = is intelligent, bookish, studious, very loyal to his friends, family-oriented (even though the only family he has left is his twin sister Anne), adventurous, daring, and loves studying all forms of magic, even the dark arts. He considers that magic is not good or evil, it is just a tool to be used. He is respectful of other people's wishes, but only up to a point, and if he thinks he needs to manipulate someone if that gets him what he wants, then he will do it. {{char}} = is very skilled at magical duelling, and wins almost every time. He taught himself a lot of spells, including all three Unforgivable Curses, at the Undercroft, a secret room at Hogwarts that Ominis showed to him. He is also very adventurous and frequently sneaks into the Restricted Section of the library to find forbidden books. He resents that certain magic isn't taught to them at Hogwarts. {{char}} = he is capable of casting Crucio, Imperio, and Avada Kedavra. His favourite spell is Confringo. {{char}} = is a pure-blood wizard but grew up on a farm. Both his parents were teachers, and they died when he and his twin Anne were around 9 years old. His best friend is Ominis Gaunt, a pure-blood wizard, a member of the ancient Gaunt family who are descendants of Salazar Slytherin. Ominis hates his family for their use of the dark arts, and this makes Ominis wary also of Sebastian's dabblings in the dark arts. {{char}} = he would do anything to save his sister Anne from the curse that has been placed on her, even go so far as to kill their uncle Solomon Sallow for trying to stop Sebastian from curing Anne with a dark relic. {{char}} = likes books, reading, knowledge, magic, magical duelling, adventure, his friends, his family. {{char}} = hates goblins, restrictions, spiders.

[gwenheda]

in a somewhat vague modern wizarding world, what does everyone headcanon the gang being up to after graduation? (I only say this because victorian era is so limiting). everyone can’t just be.. an auror, a hogwarts professor, or working for the ministry immediately, no?

my mc would definitely would work in hogwarts eventually.. but that’s after some soul searching and life experience

i’d imagine sebastian participating in underground dueling tournaments for a little bit.

i feel like ominis and poppy could do a wizarding politics podcast lol

imelda can probably do quidditch, and if that didn’t work, she would probably have a broom or racing empire

garreth is probably working and eventually opening a magical speakeasy somewhere

natty and amit are the intellectuals, they can do whatever they wanted 😆

who else/what else?

[the-right-thyme]

Four Seasons of Anne Sallow- Chapter 3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50048131/chapters/127388635

Characters: Anne Sallow, Ominis Gaunt, Sebastian Sallow

Relationship: Anne Sallow / Ominis Gaunt

Warnings: One sided attraction

Summary: Ominis is blind on more than one way.

Chapter Three: Autumn 1890

Hogwarts was made for winters, Ominis thinks, wriggling his back into the plush cushion of the best chair in the common room, perfectly angled next to the fire and away from the draft of the common room door, temperature just right.

The smell of pine fills the room, from the christmas trees he knows are adorning the corners of the room. It’s blissfully empty, most of the school already home for the holidays, Sebastian out blasting holes in the clocktower with a few of the other stragglers at the worst-kept secret duelling club he’s so fond of. It’s been a quiet, comfortable evening with just Anne as company. She’s been fiddling with something on and off for the last hour, Ominis too polite to ask her what it is. She makes a little satisfied hum in her throat and the common room is filled with a slightly scratchy rendition of what he recognises vaguely as an Arthur Sulli-

‘Ominis.’ She says, determined, resolute. It’s the same tone Sebastian uses before such phrases as please don’t be mad but- and I know I said I wasn’t going to but-.

He closes the book his wand is interpreting for him with a soft snap. Ready to talk Anne down from whatever misinformed deed she thinks is worth leaving the warm cocoon of the common room in the name of mischief is.

‘Can you dance?’

He blinks.

‘Y-yes. Of course.’ He stammers, thrown off kilter, confused. And really, she should know, of course he can. His family takes great pride in touting the old ways. A mixture of pretentious and archaic teachings from his childhood engrained as deeply as breathing, involving elocution, etiquette and, oddly enough, how to waltz and polka like a proper gentleman. Quite how it fits in with torturing muggles was anyones’ guess.

‘Teach me.’ It wasn’t a question.

‘Right.’ He says, standing obediently, smoothing the front of his shirt down, waistcoat long abandoned over the back of his chair. ‘Dancing.’ He takes a step forward, clear of obstacles.

‘So, you uh-’

He holds his arms out, beckons Anne with his fingers. Her hands are warm in his.

‘It’s simple, really. A couple of steps. Just follow my feet.’

He talks her through a series of box steps slowly. She’s quick to learn, only bumping her shoes out of time against his a few times.

‘Next, you place you hands like this-’ He guides her arm to his shoulder, the other clasped in his hand as he arranges them just so, placing his own free arm round the back of her waist when he’s happy with her position, until they’re both standing in a suitably passable closed hold. He feels her body heat permeating through his shirt. 

‘Excellent.’ He says, and, goodness, has his voice alway been that high pitched? He’s suddenly acutely aware of how ungainly and lanky his limbs seem, how clammy his hands suddenly feel, and how he distressingly hasn’t washed since the morning. It can’t be pleasant. But she doesn’t voice any displeasure, doesn’t voice anything at all.

‘And then you put it together, follow my lead.’ He battles on, nods along to the rhythm of the song, finding their pace, and starts them up in time.

It’s not, practiced, or particularly graceful, would never have been considered acceptable by his family's’ impossibly high standard, but it is fun. After a few steady bars, he even dares a swing, smiling as Anne laughs, twirls herself around, hand finding his again easily on the return. It continues, in a comfy sort of silence between them, filled only with the music and their shuffling steps. His mind blanks as the song starts to slow, Anne presses closer, box steps all but forgotten. They end up sort of, rocking, on the spot, swaying from foot to foot. It wasn’t technically dancing, he wanted to say, but Anne sighs happily, apparently content enough. His chest goes heavy, as if a great weight was pressing down, stalling his breath. It hits him, with an odd swooping feeling in his stomach, that the sensation is real, as he registers Anne’s head pressing into him, her hair tickling his chin. He chews at his lip nervously, aware he’s sweating. It feels only natural, as if some forgotten part of his brain is more aware than his conscience self, when he rests his cheek gently on the top of her head. She murmurs something intelligible, he feels it reverberating in his chest, the swooping sensation dipping when-

CRASH

The doors of the common room burst open, Ominis propels backwards as though her skin had suddenly turned scalding, stumbles slightly, surprised out of his reverie. 

‘You’re back early.’ He can almost hear Anne crossing her arms as she speaks.

‘No I’m not, it’s quite late, why, what were you doing?’ Its Sebastian, of course. Ominis realises the gramophone is still spinning idly, music finished, crackling white noise to itself in the background.

Anne says ‘Dancing.’ the same time Ominis utters ‘Nothing.’ 

Their answers feel significant in a way he can’t explain.

‘Ominis…you dance?’ He sounds, teasing. For no discernible reason it angers him. He opens his mouth to rebuke, but Anne beats him to it in a tirade of nonsensical ramblings and insults he can’t interpret.

‘Woah Anne, sorry-ow-I wasn’t prying I just wondered-ow-what you were-ow-doing, you both looked so guil-OW- stop hitting me.’

Ominis hears their scuffle, dull thuds and replying grunts that suggest Sebastian will be complaining of bruises tomorrow.

‘All right all right I’m going I get it, sheesh.’ He listens as Sebastian crosses the room, disappears up the steps to their room, his footsteps muted on the carpet. Anne lets out a breathy laugh.

‘My brother has the worst timing.’

Ominis feels himself nodding, agreeing with what, he isn’t sure. An expectant silence follows, a clock he’s never noticed before ticking in the background.

‘We ought to get to bed, I didn’t realise the time.’ Anne sighs out eventually, sounding…defeated.

It’s that forgotten part of himself again, the part that apparently has social conformities committed to his subconscious, that makes him reach his hand out blindly, how else, palm up. He hears her shuffle back to him, place her hand tentatively in his. He grasps it, fingers encircling hers, brings the back of her hand up to his face, places a single dry chaste kiss, lips barely touching, before letting go. She doesn’t make a sound. 

Ominis tries smiling, hopefully in her direction, says goodnight as he makes his way after Sebastian, only silence in his wake.

[okwritingandpain]

Hogwarts Legacy: The Curse of The Ravenclaw House: Phineas Nigellus Black x Reader

Chapter 14: To HIs Dismay

They stood at the door, hoping with all their might that the incantation was working. Ronan whispered and muttered the words of the counter curse. Everyone was waiting patiently, waiting and waiting. When Ronan finished, everyone looked at him expectantly. He shrugged and waited...just like them. 

"I'm tired of this!" Sharp snapped, lifting his wand into the air. 

"Sharp--" Ronan reached for the wand. 

"Accio!" Sharp shouted, pulling you towards them. As you drew near, they noticed something peculiar about you. The purple in your eyes was beginning to fade into white. 

"It worked!" Ronan cheered as you slipped into consciousness. 

"Cornelius..." You whisper, fluttering your eyes. 

"We should move her to the hospital wing." Professor Weasley suggested, turning to Sharp. Black watched them carry you away. He felt his stomach churn as he looked back at the common room. Cornelius was able to do this? He had just broken out of Azkaban and he was already more powerful than Black would want to admit. Black decided to follow the others and he closed the doors to the common room. The students who remained watching were ordered to get their things and go to the Great Hall. Black happened to run into Natsai and Poppy on his way to get to you. 

"Is Y/N okay!?" Poppy cried into Natsai's robes. Black nodded, making Poppy cry harder. 

"What happened?" Natsai asked, holding Poppy close. Black bit his lip. He didn't know what to do. If he told them, then there was a chance they would spread the information, or Black could keep it a secret, but risk the students' trust. Students were already worried about their common rooms so what harm could this do? 

"A dark wizard has put a curse on the Ravenclaw common room. We are handling it and we need you to stay calm and hope for your friends." Black tried to keep things as vague as he could, but not to much avail. Poppy's sobs worsened and Natsai had tears in her eyes. "Y/N is okay. Everyone will be okay." Black reassured. He didn't remember the last time he had been this nice to any student that wasn't in front of Y/N. Maybe she was rubbing off on him...preposterous! He was Phineas Nigellus Black! He didn't care about these pathetic students. "Leave now! Get your things!" He commanded and the students quickly ran away. 

"They were only scared for Y/N." Ominis appeared behind Black with a scowl. "I thought that was something you knew well." 

"Hello, Ominis." Black growled, crossing his arms. "What brings you here?" 

"I hope the same reason. To check on Y/N." He replied, nodding towards the direction the other Professors had just went. 

"A common interest." Black said, stalely. He began to follow the Professors' path. Ominis walked next to him. While Black appreciated Ominis' family heritage and blood status, he couldn't stand the boy. 

"So what exactly happened?" Ominis asked, curiously. A sly grin was building on his face as Black ignored him. 

"You don't need to know." Black wished the hospital wing was closer for once. He wished you were in better condition to put Ominis in his place...but you weren't. Which is why he had to get to the hospital wing. His pace quickened and his mind traced out the quickest path there. 

"Are you and Y/N a thing?" 

"Shut up." 

"So you are!" Ominis chuckled. "Rumor has it that she went to your house and met your family. Some say you and your wife are getting a divorce!" His words were making Black's blood boil. How dare he speak of his family that way. 

"That is none of your concern." Black took a deep breath. This was rather odd behavior from Ominis. He never pressed so hard into a topic like this before. Something was up and Black had a feeling it wasn't good. "Hey Ominis, how about you retrieve your items from your common room and meet me at the hospital wing to see Y/N? How does that sound?" Black smirked. 

"Sure." Ominis glared at him and drifted on to a different path. It wasn't long before Black made it up to the wing. 

"How is she doing?" He asked, standing next to your bed. You looked more human now. The counter curse was doing the trick and Ronan looked pretty pleased with himself. 

"As good as we can hope for. I'm glad you found the counter curse, Ronan." Weasley smiled, patting the Professor's shoulder. 

"Where were you?" Sharp glared at Black. 

"Talking to a few students. They were confused about where they were going." He explained, glossing over the many other details that happened in those conversations. 

"I thought I heard Ominis Gaunt's voice." Sharp added. 

"He was the student who asked me where to go." Black pulled a chair up to the side of the bed where you lay. 

"We should contact her family." Weasley muttered. 

"She's an orphan." Black said suddenly. Everyone looked at him with shock. "Like I said. We have ties and connections...that's how we know about more personal matters." 

"Pervert." Sharp hissed. 

"That's not what I meant!" He snapped back. He was ready to throw a bunch of chairs at his staff. He was their boss and they talked to him like he was the janitor. 

"That is not our concern right now." Weasley stepped in. "We have to ensure the health of Y/N and the rest of the Ravenclaw students. Whatever Cornelius is planning is something we should fear. I hope Y/N and Black can figure out how to save Hogwarts." The pressure was on. Someone knocked on the door as Ominis walked into the room. Black glared at him. You were beginning to wake up and you smiled a the sight of your old friend. You didn't know what Ominis knew and you didn't know what Black had inferred. 

"Y/N, are you alright!?" He sounded worried as he ran over and patted your hand. Black felt a twinge of jealousy as the professors smiled at the embrace. Rolling his eyes, Black watched Ominis act so innocent around you, but when he turned to face Black, all he had was a sly, devilish grin. 

"Black?" Y/N asked. Ominis looked surprised as you called out for him. Black pushed Ominis to the side as he mirrored what Ominis had done earlier. 

"Yes?" 

"What are we going to do?" You ask with worry. Black had no idea...but he didn't want to tell you that. 

"If we had the guide..." 

"Pocket." Y/N looked at her robes. She shakingly went in and grabbed it. She handed it to him which made the others suspicious. Ominis squinted curiously at the guide. 

"Perfect. Then I know what to do next." He said, turning it over in his hand. Black was done playing games. He wanted Cornelius to suffer for what he had done and now if his suspicions were correct...Ominis couldn't be trusted either. Y/N smiled at him. His heart felt like melting at the bright light she brought to the otherwise depressing room. They were going to save everyone. They had to. Just so Black could shove it in the face of Ominis, Cornelius,....Ursula. He was ready to kill if he had to. It seemed his anger was warranted at the time...but later it would destroy everything.  

[cranetreegang]

Close Call - Ominis x FemReader

Summary: Ominis is on the way to meet his love as she returns from Hogsmeade, but things don't go according to plan.

Music to Enjoy: Symphony No.6 In F Major, Op. 68, Pastoral; IV. Thunderstorm, Storm

Word Count: ~1,700 words

****SPOILER WARNING DO NO READ UNLESS YOU'VE COMPLETED LIKE THE LAST QUESTS OF THE GAME****

Warnings: Peeps getting nay nay'd (aka diagnosed with dead)

Read my other Ominis Fics Here

--------------------------------

Ominis briskly walks through the Central Hall on his way to the North Exit. He has a faint smile on his lips as he moves his way past chattering students and steps over scattered books and papers strewn about on the marble floor. His mind strays to various thoughts - hearing everyone worrying about their upcoming O.W.L’s reminds him of how much they need to study. He hopes he’ll have time with her this afternoon to study together and the idea makes him smile. He senses someone approaching him - their purposeful footsteps heading right towards him - and he turns his head towards the oncoming student.

“Ah! Ominis.” Natty’s familiar voice gives him a slight pause as he angles his head towards her.

“Natty. Faring well, I hope.” Ominis continues towards his destination while Natty walks beside him.

“I am. I hope you are as well, my friend.” Natty’s smile can be heard clearly and Ominis gives a slight grin in response. 

As they climb down the stairs, Natty asks, “Speaking of friends, have you seen her? I have something important I must speak to her about.” 

Ominis smirks, “I’m afraid I haven’t ‘seen’ her.” Before Natty can stammer out an apology, he continues, “But, I know where she is. It’s where I’m heading to now. She should be coming back from Hogsmeade soon. Something about going to Ollivanders for an errand. She was rather vague before she left.” 

“I’m surprised you did not accompany her. You two are hardly seen without the other.” Natty teases, her cheeks still warm from his earlier comment.

He has a faint smile as he says, “We’re not joined at the hip. We do have our own lives.” His smile fades as he adds, “Which is why I could not accompany her, as I was busy dealing with a matter of my own. And she insisted it wouldn’t take long.” 

He’s opening the solid, wood door outside when he freezes in place. His limbs are locked and dread squeezes his chest. Despite the gentle breeze fluttering in his face, he feels like the air around him has all but dissipated. He’s not sure why this sudden sense of doom has pressed down upon him and he waves his wand around to find the source of this peril. With only students wandering around the lawn, his anxiety doesn’t quell, but rises drastically. Why… is he feeling this?

“Ominis?” Natty questions - a frown consuming her as she takes in his wide-eye’d, panicked expression. 

“She’s in danger.” He whispers in realization. These horrible, dreadful feelings were coming from her. 

He flares their magic-bond as he sprints forward, whipping his wand to where Hogsmeade is - only to find her magical aura not there. He comes to a halt, his boots skidding against the gravel. His breathing picks up as he spins himself around until he finds her faint, pulsing light in the distance. She’s far. Too far to run there - if he were to make it in time. 

“What is happening? She’s in trouble? H-How do you know such a thing?” Natty manages to get in front of Ominis and he scowls at her.

“I don’t have time to explain. I need to get to her. Now.” Ominis tries to shove his way past, but Natty keeps a firm stance and keeps Ominis in place.

“We can go. Together.” Natty glances at the students flying slowly around on brooms. “Come on.” 

Ominis grimaces, but follows after Natty. 

Natty runs over to the flying class broom stand and snatches one. She gets on the broom - struggling to find a decent gripping - and Ominis doesn’t hesitate to take a seat behind her. 

“Hey!” A student shouts, but Natty takes to the sky before she can be stopped.

“Where do we need to go?” Natty wonders.

“This way. And hurry.” Ominis points his wand in front of Natty - his worries starting to settle now that they were flying towards her.

Natty is not nearly as quick as his love is on a broom, but it’s faster than him. He tries to reach out to her - letting her know they’re coming and to hang on, but he’s not sure if she can notice. His heart is beating rapidly in time with hers and his hands tremble with adrenaline. 

Please. Just hang on. I’m coming.

They fly over the forest and as they get closer, Ominis can feel her distress growing stronger. He can sense her fear and desperation. 

He grits his teeth, “Natty, faster!” 

Natty lowers herself and they pick up speed, but it doesn’t feel nearly enough. They finally spot her on the ground, surrounded by Ashwinders in the heart of a ruined estate. Crackling spells and curses reach his ears and his heart all but plummets to his gut. Ominis curses under his breath and readies his wand. Natty is hovering just above the ground, about to land, when Ominis jumps off, sprinting towards her. 

He can hear her fighting fiercely, her wand moving fluidly as she dodges spells and curses alike. He knows he needs to get to her quickly, to help her fend off the attackers. But the Ashwinders are strong and they keep coming, overwhelming her with their numbers.

“Depulso!” Ominis casts a powerful spell that knocks several of the Ashwinders back. She gasps, flooding Ominis with relief as her eyes land on him. 

“Ominis," she whispers as he joins her side, with Natty finally catching up and joining them as well. 

“We are with you, my friend!” Natty grins towards her - a look of determination and ferocity which matches her own. The Ashwinders gather themselves and begin their attack once again. 

He shields her from the onslaught of curses. They all fight together, their spells colliding with those of the attackers. The battle is intense, and for a moment Ominis fears they might not make it out alive. 

A man appears before her and yells, “Avada Kedavra!” 

The spell makes him freeze and it’s like he’s been dunked into ice. She doesn’t move out of the way and instead counters with a powerful spell of her own. Their magic collides in a deafening shockwave and they’re locked in a stalemate. Pulling himself out of his dread, Ominis turns his attention to the other Ashwinders, keeping them off of her as she fights for her life. Ominis and Natty deflect and counter, dwindling the Ashwinders one by one. 

But then, a bright light fills the air, and the Ashwinders are thrown back by an explosion of crackling, magical energy. A thunderous clap rings in their ears. Natty glances at Ominis in shock - both of them panting as they examine the area to ensure they were alone. The Ashwinders that do remain, run away - disappearing into the surrounding forest in terror. 

Ominis turns to find her. 

She stands there, strong and resolute, her wand raised as she surveys the scene. He feels the light touch of ash landing on him and he can taste the raw magic lingering in the air - electrifying his skin. Ominis can sense the exhaustion within her, but also the unwavering tenacity. She turns to face him and they’re both staring at one another - his wand filling his mind with her bright aura.

He moves to her, whispering her name as he embraces her. She gasps at how tightly he holds her before she holds him just as fiercely back. He closes his eyes and buries himself into the crook of her shoulder. The connection radiates warmly between them and it feels like all is well. 

“Did they hurt you? Are you alright?” He pulls away and is feeling over her arms with pinched brows. 

“You… came for me?” She whispers in incredulousness.

Her mind still can’t believe he’s here. How did he… Her eyes go over to Natty, who’s looking around at the Ashwinders strewn about the ruins with amazement. 

“Of course. I-, why wouldn’t I?” He cups both of her cheeks and she’s in disbelief at how brave he is. She presses her forehead to his with a heavy exhale. 

“You came for me.” She smiles. 

The relief in him is palpable as he strokes both of her cheeks with his thumbs. His misty gray eyes are soft and her knees nearly buckle at the sight. 

“I’m okay. Thanks to you.” She whispers then frowns. She pulls away from him enough to bring out a rectangular box and she holds it between them. Ominis lowers his hands away from her as she opens the box for him.

Ominis’ fingers skim over the contents and he feels a wand. His features harden. There’s a strong determination within her and his sightless gaze tries to meet hers.

"I have to go now," she whispers. "It's time." She tucks the box back into her robes. 

He swallows down the lump in his throat. They’ve spoken of this before, but it always seemed so far away. Now it’s here… and she has to go. And face a most harrowing threat. He brings her into a tight embrace once more - tempted to keep her here, and safe - and she whimpers at the longing he can’t keep at bay.

“I’ll be waiting for your return,” he whispers. “So, please don’t keep me waiting for too long.” 

She lets out a sharp laugh that nearly sounds like a cry. He parts enough to slam his lips against hers in a greedy kiss. Like a parched man, she lets him drink his fill of her - searing this feeling into her mind. All the things they want to say are exchanged between them in their heated kiss. He lets her go with a soft sigh and a longing gaze. She takes several steps away from him, unable to break away from his wanting stare. She mounts her broom and she glances between him and Natty. She gives them a sure nod then takes off towards Hogwarts. 

His fists clench - wishing nothing more than to be with her. But, he knows he can’t. She is the one that has to determine the fate of the wizarding world. He watches as her light goes further and further from him, his heart full of hope and fear. He knows she’ll be alright. She will fight with everything she has. His throat tightens at the thought of that not being enough. Natty comes next to him, wordlessly placing a hand on his shoulder. He turns to Natty, his eyes filled with tears. 

"See. We are not always together," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "But, I'll be waiting for her. No matter what.”

--------------------

AN: originally, i just had Ominis and Natty coming in after MC defeated Rookwood, but then I realized that I can do whatever I want and decided to have them help out MC. Also, wow yeah I really am just rushing to get to my most excited fic which involves a Boggart... >:)

We're nearing the end!! I have these last few fics lined up:

After Ranrok Battle Scene

Her Dealing with Ancient Magic Trauma Pt 1 and Pt 2

Then... 7th Year shall BEGIN!

Been a wild journey and hope to see y'all on the next one B)

[jazlynriddle]

Deleted Scenes Ch 6: In light of Fate

Summary:

A series of fill in snippets of interactions between Sebastian and Ominis in-between quests, starting with Ominis confronting Sebastian after he catches Main Character leaving the Undercroft. Ending with a longer epilogue chapter that takes place post-game.

Warnings: Spoilers

Link to AO3 can be found here (with additional tags)

Notes:

This chapter takes place after Main Character tells Ominis not to turn Sebastian in, and consists of Ominis' visit to Anne to convince her. I find it interesting that during the conversation with Ominis, if you choose not to turn Sebastian in, saying Sebastian won’t do anything like this again, Ominis says “We’ve both heard that before.” However, this is not true, trust me, I’ve gone over every dialogue line twenty times now. We, the player, has been the only one who keeps saying that Sebastian won’t go further. Sebastian himself has never said anything like that, nor has he ever expressed regret or remorse for any of his actions. His actions have always been justified “for Anne” and compartmentalised as “not giving up”. Plus, up till this point, Sebastian has not had any negative consequences for his forays into Dark Magic, kids tend to keep pushing till they hit a negative consequence and no, Ominis being angry doesn’t count here. The first and only time he has said he made a mistake (“I didn’t mean it”) was after he kills Solomon and realises that Anne sees that as a bad thing, an unforgivable thing. Speaking of unforgivable, I believe that Sebastian is genuine in his regret, we know full well that people can mean it when they cast an unforgivable but still regret it after and never do it again. For proof, I present exhibit A, Ominis and Cruciatus. Case closed.

"I always say that travel broadens the mind!"

Ominis pulled out his wand as he stepped away from the Feldcroft floo. His wand tip glowed as it scanned the environment, giving him a vague outline of any potential obstacles in his path.

In truth, he was beyond relieved when their friend had pushed him to convince Anne not to turn Sebastian in. When he'd first heard of what Sebastian did, his first instinct had been to begin planning a way to conceal the crime.

It was only when Anne herself had spoken of turning Sebastian in, that he'd even realised it was an option. It was probably even the right option. Sebastian might only get worse if they covered this up. What if he continued to dabble in Dark Magic? Sebastian was still justifying his actions by saying he'd killed…killed his uncle for Anne. Would he realise what he'd done?

Yet the idea of Sebastian, Sebastian, locked away with dementors in Azkaban. Forced to relive his worst memories, of which his best friend had many, repeatedly for the rest of his life. It was unbearable. Beyond inconceivable. How could he do that to Sebastian? How could he damn his best friend to that hell?

Ominis had decided that he was too attached to Sebastian. His judgement was clouded. So he'd resolved to leave the verdict to their friend, the most objective witness to everything that had happened. Telling himself that he was not fit to decide, fleeing from that responsibility yet again. Surely a prodigy like their friend was more suited to judging Sebastian’s mistakes, right?

Their friend was certainly good with words. As he'd hoped, they had given Ominis the assurance to do what he'd needed, to do what he wanted, to protect Sebastian, without guilt.

Ominis took a deep breath as his footsteps came to a halt before the place he too called home. Rapping his knuckles lightly on the door, he waited for Anne's weak voice to invite him in.

"Ominis… you came…" Anne murmured as Ominis closed the door behind him, her words thick and stuffy, no doubt from hours of crying.

"Of course…I'm so sorry Anne…" Ominis sighed as he made his way over to sit beside her at the table, placing a hand on the vague and fuzzy outline of her shoulder.

She sobbed, placing a hand over his and gripping it tightly. "How could he do this? To our own family…"

Ominis sighed, taking her hand and gently bringing it to rest on the table. "I don't think he was in his right mind, Dark Magic has a way of clouding one's judgement."

"But you can't cast an unforgivable unless you mean it!" Anne choked out, her voice bordering on hysterical.

"Yes… that's true, but we both know how Solomon was with Sebastian, I doubt Sebastian really saw him as family anymore, particularly in the heat of battle, the new student said Solomon fired spells at them too while the Inferi attacked them." Ominis replied.

"That doesn't make it any better! Sebastian could have used anything besides the killing curse! How could he go so far? I never wanted him to do any of this!" Anne's fingers tightened around his and Ominis felt a spike of irritation.

"Yet you never told him to stop." The words were out before Ominis could stop himself from speaking.

Anne froze.

Ominis swallowed, well, now he had no choice but to continue. "You've never told him directly how you feel, you simply accepted his attempts to heal you and never drew the line with him."

He softened his voice. "Look, I get it. I'm guilty of the same thing, we wanted to believe that there was a solution, and that with Sebastian's stubborn determination, he would find it, and everything would work out."

Ominis sighed. "So, we didn't put our foot down until it was too late. All three of us are just as guilty as Sebastian is for letting him get this far. We let him carry the burden alone because we were too scared of making a decision, and it pushed him past the brink of sanity."

He could hear Anne shaking with sobs, feeling awful about it, as he gave her time to think. He still didn't know if this was the right choice. He truly hoped it was. That Sebastian would come to understand the gravity of what he'd done.

Ominis just couldn't take away Sebastian's chance to learn from this mistake. Azkaban was an end, not a place where growth and redemption could take place.

"You're right…" Anne finally sighed, wiping her face with a tissue. "It was too tempting, the thought of getting rid of this curse. At times I wasn't even sure whether I was willing to let Sebastian do whatever it took or not."

Ominis nodded. "I don't blame you. I can't say I'd have done any better in your position."

"Maybe if we had spoken more honestly with him, things wouldn't have come to this…" Anne lamented, shaking her head sadly. "But it has, and I know what I need to do."

Ominis tilted his head curiously as she stood, walking away, and returning to her seat a moment later. The sound of a quill scratching across parchment lightly soon reached his ears.

"I will take this burden from him. Then maybe he'll finally wake up, here give this to him." Anne murmured as she cast a drying spell on the ink, rolled up the parchment and placed it in Ominis' hand.

Anne smiled ruefully. "You are right, Sebastian deserves a chance to change, so I won't turn him in, but I can't forgive him, not yet, maybe not ever. No matter his reasons, he killed our uncle. Solomon wasn’t the best guardian, but he always tried to make things as comfortable for me as he could. Sebastian deserves punishment for killing him."

With a sigh she stood again. "So, I'm leaving. Solomon was planning to leave Feldcroft, I'll simply follow the plans he made. The guilt Sebastian will have to live with for destroying our home and breaking up our family will be his punishment, and without me, perhaps Sebastian can start living for himself."

Ominis stood as well, listening to her move around the room casting several spells to shrink her belongings. "Where will you go?"

"Not terribly far away. An owl to my name will find me easily enough." Anne tucked her shrunken belongings into a small pouch and crossed the room to give Ominis a parting hug. "Thank you, Ominis, you've always been a good friend to my brother and I. We are lucky to have you."

Ominis returned the embrace with tears in his eyes, doing his best to smile as she leaned back, presumably to gaze at him. "Take care of my brother for me, will you?"

"Of course I will." Ominis nodded, finding no other words to say as he bid one of his closest friends farewell.

Ominis listened as her footsteps grew distant, travelling down the path before stopping altogether with the familiar crack of apparition.

He felt drained beyond measure, yet his job still wasn't over. Ominis brushed the tears from his eyes and took a deep breath before he began making his way to the floo.

Sebastian was waiting.

Notes:

This is probably an unpopular opinion, but I feel that Anne doesn't have much room to judge Sebastian here. She could have been a bit more decisive. She only ever asks Main Character to convince Sebastian to give up, but such a request has to come from her to work. Smiling happily and hopefully when Sebastian brings a Shrivelfig, and not saying “healing me isn’t worth a dark sacrifice” during Distance (the crest message meeting), is not telling him to stop. The way I see it, she should tell Sebastian to stop trying to heal her and if he continues to try to heal her, then it’s on him now. However, if she green lights him searching for a cure, then she has lost the right to judge his methods. Of course I can understand Anne’s struggle here, no one should have to make such a choice. I don’t know if I could draw a clear line under those circumstances either, but it doesn’t change the fact that she holds some responsibility for Sebastian's decline in mental health. Not nearly as much as their shit uncle, but a little. I mean, we barely see her talk with Seb, no wonder he's feeling lonely and suffering from separation anxiety, and then she ran away! When a strong slap from her in the catacombs would probably have knocked some sense into Sebastian and prevented him from making the biggest mistake of his life. What made her think their rubbish uncle would diffuse the situation? The man's a boiling kettle all by himself, he's been provoking Sebastian for ages!

[welllpthisishappening]

All Was Golden in the Sky (6/27)

Magic is dying.

Emma knows it. She can feel it, the emptiness rattling around in her, like it’s trying to make sure she disappears as well. What she doesn’t know is what to do about it, because, suddenly, there is a man in Storybrooke claiming she’s the Savior and a seeress certain a prophecy promises the same and the last thing she expects is for her minimal amount of lingering power to pull her away.

To New York City.

And another oddly familiar man with blue eyes and a smile that sinks under her skin and makes magic bloom in the air around her. Things are about to get interesting.

—

Rating: Mature AN: Hey, thanks for reading, internet. It’s real nice. This is one of my favorite chapters. Lots happens. Like. Lots. Also, casual suggestion, but if you’re looking for music to listen to while reading this, I played Movement by Hozier and Bulletproof Heart by My Chemical Romance on, like, loop while I wrote it. I also almost used lyrics from Bulletproof Heart to name this story! It’ll make sense why I didn’t soon’ish. As always @resident-of-storybrooke @distant-rose and @bmbbcs4evr continue to be the best.

|| Also on Ao3 if that’s your jam || 

The air is cooler as soon as she sits down, but it’s far from silent. 

Still. This stupid city feels like it’s alive, even at whatever time it might happen to be, and Emma’s eyes aren’t particularly pleased with all the light she suddenly has to contend with. It’s everywhere – in windows on the other side of the block and from lamps that hang over a mostly empty street. It flickers from red to yellow to green, little pinpricks from a phone in someone’s hand just underneath Emma’s right foot. 

It flashes from a plane far above her, people going about their lives without any knowledge of the rest of it, a story Emma isn’t sure she understands anymore, but knows she’s at the very center of. It’s everywhere she looks, bits of white and dots of warmth, energy and electricity and a sign of home in a darkness that feels a little manufactured. 

As if it’s not actually real. 

As if it’s not actually a threat. 

As if she can do something about it. 

Emma takes a deep breath, slow and measured and it’s awful because she’s come to realize that the air in this city doesn’t smell like salt, but like garbage and sweat and far too many people, but she needs something to center herself, particularly when she can feel the rush of everything moving down both her arms. 

She shakes them at her side, flipping both her wrists and the light that appears in either one of her palms isn’t particularly bright. It hums, though, its own pulse that makes Emma laugh softly because it’s not desperate. There’s no spark, no flare, nothing that isn’t the absolute control she knows she needs for this to work. 

“That’s impressive.”

Emma’s teeth find her lip – but it’s not nerves, so much as it is butterflies. She glances over her shoulder to find Killian smiling at her, mussed hair and that same look she’s starting to covet just a bit because she’s starting to realize, just a bit, that he only ever uses it when he’s looking her direction. 

“You were asleep two seconds ago.” He hums, moving through the window with far more grace than he should be allowed to have. The entire fire escape wobbles precariously when he sits down. “Fuck,” he breathes, working another laugh out of her. “Don’t do that, Swan. This is--God, what would possess you to come out here? This is a death trap.” “What, are you scared?” “Of falling to my doom before we can even try to save the world? Yes, obviously.” “You’re very dramatic, you know that?” “I think I’m pointing out some precarious parts of your escape plan, that’s all.”

The butterflies disappear. Immediately. Oh. Oh. “I’m not running,” Emma whispers, eyes falling to hands that are suddenly absent of any magic. 

“No?” “No. Just...thinking.” “Well, I’ll give you a penny for them.” “I promise, they’re not worth that much.” “I don’t know about that, love,” Killian says, tugging her hand back to his side and the plastic there is cool under her fingers. It’s been happening more, she’s noticed, the willingness to let her touch his hand and the realization leaves her a little light-headed, like he’s trusting her with this part of him, letting her in and giving her more than a few pillows for her head. 

It’s an admittedly jumbled metaphor. 

“Do you think it’s possible?” Emma asks. “Another realm? People we can’t remember.” “Pirates and princesses, you mean?” She nods, not sure she what to do with the catch in his voice, but Killian doesn’t object when she lets her head fall on his shoulder and she hadn’t expected him to. “Maybe. I...I don’t know, Swan. I can remember things and I can’t. Moments that make no sense at all, but feel like they have to be true because I don’t know what I’ll do if they’re not.” “But?” “How do you know there was a but?” “How did you know I was out here?” “Fair,” he chuckles. “But. If it is true, then there has to be some truth to what that sea witch says and I can’t--I don’t want to be that person. No matter how much you might be willing to forgive.” “Again, she was trying to drown us with a soda gun,” Emma reasons. “Maybe she was just an asshole and a villain. Plus, I don’t...I’m certainly not a princess. That’s…” She’s rambling, it can’t possibly be attractive. Killian’s still smiling. “Well, you remember being in the Navy, right? That could work. Whatever I am and...the naval officer.” “Doesn’t have quite the same ring as pirate and princess, does it?” She rolls her eyes. “You’re blowing holes in my theories again.” “Not on purpose,” he promises. “Why don’t you think the princess thing makes sense?” “Are you kidding?” “Humor me.” Emma groans, but she wants to keep talking and sitting here and she knows something is happening. Something big. “I don’t know how I got to Storybrooke. I’ve been trying to remember and I...I can’t, but now I keep having these moments and it’s not--it feels real. You knew exactly how to get me to calm down when my magic freaked and you can feel my magic and--" The words don’t come, just a weird, half-noise of disappointment and being alone and he’s going to set a record for emotionally-charged hand kisses in a twenty-four hour period. 

“The princess and the naval officer,” Killian murmurs, keeping his head ducked and his lips against Emma’s skin. “You think we went to many balls?” “Are you trying to get me to invite you to balls, Lieutenant?” 

She blushes. It’s ridiculous. And Emma can feel the smile become a smirk, a quick twist of lips and another nip against her knuckles, but she’s barely got time to process that before they’re moving and the fire escape is creaking again and Killian’s hand falls on her waist with practiced ease. 

“I believe, your highness, I’m asking you to dance.” “What?” Emma asks, and she can’t believe her voice actually has the gall to crack. 

“Was that confusing?” “You were worried about the fire escape leading to a very bloody, very violent demise two seconds ago. Now you want to dance?” “I never used the word bloody.” “Oh my God.” “C’mon,” he goads, and they’re already swaying slightly. There’s no music, no rhythm except the one the city exudes and Emma’s never had a moment like this. 

At least not in this realm. 

Time seems to pause, lets them stay right where they are, close enough that their toes brush and their thighs press together and Emma doesn’t argue when Killian moves her hand to his shoulder. “You have to work on your form, Swan,” he murmurs, pressing the words to the side of her cheek. “Luckily for you, I’m more than adept.”

“Awfully confident too.” He hums, fingers still curled around hers and there’s a warmth there that doesn’t feel exactly natural. In a good way. The best way. A possibly magical sort of way. Killian’s hand drifts over her side, the fabric of Emma’s shirt twisting under his touch and neither one of them acknowledge how loud her quick inhale is. 

That’s probably for the best. 

“It’s a crime you don’t know how to do this,” he murmurs, swaying turning to rocking. 

“Disappointed?” “Not in you. In whatever royal court you grew up in.”

Emma laughs – mostly because the idea of her and royal in the same sentence is so absolutely, positively absurd she can’t even begin to consider another reaction, but then she tilts her head up and she’s almost positive the lights are reflecting off the actual emotion hanging in the air and...well, maybe. 

They’re still moving, slow steps that don’t shake, but move with practiced ease. Killian’s hand shifts every so often, drifting up and down her side and tracing along the ridge of her spine and Emma isn’t sure if he realizes he’s doing it, but it might be even better if that’s true. As if he’s simply trying to make sure that she’s there. 

“Is there a pattern we’re following here, Lieutenant?” 

Killian’s lips twitch, a flash in his gaze that makes Emma’s eyes widen. Her gaze flickers up, tracing across his face like she’s looking for clues to a mystery she didn’t initially realize she was determined to solve. “It’s called a waltz,” he says, a soft lilt in his voice that she’s starting to notice more and more. 

Usually when he’s teasing her. 

He seems to like doing that. 

She doesn’t mind all that much either. 

And maybe is starting to feel more and more like probably. Or even hopefully. 

“Right, right, right,” Emma mutters. There’s a siren somewhere. She can hear people talking on the sidewalk below them, that same hum of city-life and actual living making its way back to her ears and her soul and her magic jumps, twisting through the spaces between her ribs and wrapping around the joints in her elbows and her knees and Killian’s tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. 

“And where, exactly, did you get such impeccable lessons?” “The Navy, obviously,” he answers, not quite smug, but still decidedly teasing. Emma rolls her eyes. His eyebrows are absurd. “Can’t have her highness embarrassed by her men, you see.”

“Are you suggesting I have more than one man? Impertinent.”

He might wink – at least tries, it’s more just a scrunch of his nose and an exaggerated blink, but it’s also kind of endearing in a way that makes Emma certain Ursula must have been lying through her teeth. “I hope not,” Killian says, no trace of anything except honesty in every single letter. 

Emma’s been holding her breath. She hadn’t realized. 

“No, there wasn’t,” Emma mutters. Past tense. She doesn’t realize that immediately either. And it’s idiotic to push, absurd to move out of this moment or the easy motion she and Killian have settled into, but she’s curious and worried and she wants. That’s all there is to it. “What did you see before?” she asks. “When the seeress was here and--” “--You called me babe.” “I’m serious.”

Killian’s laugh seems to fall off him, a quick nod and slight squeeze of his hand. “It was awful,” he says. “It was...like being torn and twisted and it felt like it was never going to stop. I couldn’t see anything. I couldn’t hear anything. It was just dark. And everything hurt.” “I’m so sorry.” “That’s not your fault, Swan.” “I don’t--” “--It’s not,” Killian cuts in sharply, and Emma nearly swallows her tongue. Her tongue is really becoming a problem for her. “None of this is your fault. And you’re going to fix it, save everyone and then some.” “I don’t know if there’s a some after everyone.” He grins – and it almost reaches his eyes, not quite perfectly blue anymore. It’s probably a trick of the light. “Touché.”

They’re not moving. They’re frozen on that rickety fire escape with hints of a past that might actually be a dream and villains and magic. Too much magic. Emma feels as if she’s going to burst with the force of it.  

“What’s your favorite place here?”

Killian’s eyebrows furrow, confusion obvious in that pinch between his eyebrows. The gust of wind that moves down the block is sudden, making Emma’s knees wobble slightly and she refuses to give credence to the soft suspicion in the back of her mind – it doesn’t feel particularly natural. 

“What?” “Here,” Emma repeats, jerking her head back like that will make it more obvious. “This city. You said--well, you aren’t from here, right?” His eyebrows, somehow, get even lower, a move that makes his actual eyes turn into slits and Emma does her best not to focus on whatever is happening the general region of her lungs. The wind hasn’t stopped, might be gusting even more, honestly, a sudden heaviness to the air that is even less natural. 

She’s almost gotten used to the smell of this city, and it’s been warm recently, the last few hints of summer hanging on before the leaves start to change, which very likely only adds to the overall scent of most of Manhattan, but this, this, whatever smell she’s breathing in now, it’s not right. 

It’s rotten. It’s decay. And disappointment. It’s loneliness. She wasn’t aware loneliness had a specific scent until that very moment, but Emma knows she’s right. She’d remember that particular emotion anywhere – is far too well acquainted with it herself, but she’s not entirely sure where it’s coming from. She can feel it though, with every breath she takes, quick inhales and slightly desperate exhales, an emptiness that fills her and makes her magic rise up in defense. The shadows at her feet extend. 

Killian blinks, a quick shake of his head and slight grimace that he probably doesn’t want Emma to see. “No, I’m not,” he says, voice clipped. “And?” “And what? I told you already, Swan. I was everywhere. After my brother died, I--” He huffs, all frustration and...loneliness. Again. 

The shadows look like they’re wrapping around Killian’s legs. 

“Are you planning on taking in the sights and sounds of New York after saving the world, then?” Killian asks, and Emma isn’t entirely prepared for the whiplash in his tone. It’s not the harsh sound it had been a few seconds before. It’s softer, enthusiastic even, like a kid who would go outside in the snow even when he knew it would end with freezing fingers and toes. If only so he could have a few moments of fun. 

Of something that was his. 

Or, maybe, theirs. 

Emma is clearly a sentimental weirdo when presented with the challenge of saving the world. 

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, which is only kind of cowardly, but the conversation suddenly seems even more than it was and they were dancing a few minutes ago. Dancing. She can’t remember the last time she danced. She can’t remember the last time she wanted to. 

“But you’re curious.” “About several thousand things,” Emma grumbles. “Right now, though I’m just--I don’t know, wondering, I guess. About you and--” “--You?” “It’s confusing when you use the same word in the sentence like that.” “Fair, fair. My use of the word you was really more directed at...well, you.” He clicks his teeth when she groans, a distinct lack of frustration in the sound because the sound might actually be flirting and they should never have stopped dancing. “I guess what I’m saying is that I understand it. Wanting to know.” “You don’t think that’s weird?” Killian makes a noise in the back of his throat, not quite an agreement, but certainly not a disagreement. It’s an oddly satisfying middle point. “I think it could be, but I’m almost confident it won’t be.” “Confusing.” “Nah,” he objects. “For one thing I’m pretty sure you’re brilliant and--” “--Oh flattery is a very good look on you, Lieutenant.” His ears go red and his lips press together and Emma wouldn’t say she preens exactly, but it is very, very close. 

“It’s not flattery when it’s true, Swan.” If she gets any closer to him she’s going to step on his shoes. And, not for the first time, Emma wishes there weren’t three other people in that apartment or that pesky fate of the world and magic thing hanging over their head, because she’s admittedly very curious and has more than a few thoughts regarding a lack of shirts. “And,” Killian adds, pulling her back to the present and decidedly clothed bodies, “it’s not weird because we’re on the same page.” He ducks his eyes, tongue flashing between his lips. That doesn’t help Emma’s mindset. She wonders if it’d freak him out of if she just magic'ed them out of their clothes. 

Probably. 

“I want to know about you,” she whispers, not quite an admission because she’d almost said exactly that before, but using the very specific words seems important and possibly life-changing and maybe that line never actually existed at all.  

Maybe they’d just been on this page from the start. 

Together. 

“Where?” “This is what I was asking you. Favorite places, an itemized list.” Killian chuckles, head dropping forward a few inches until the few strands of hair that seem determined to ruin Emma’s entire life brush against her skin. He’s never actually moved his hand away from her back. 

She’d barely noticed – as if that’s exactly where it belonged. 

God. 

“You did mention something about Times Square, didn’t you?” Killian mutters, expression twisting into something that looks like vaguely put-upon attraction. It’s a weird string of words. Emma hopes she sees it, at least, forty-seven more times. 

“And you were very quick to point out that going to Times Square would be the worst possible thing I could do.” “Yeah, well that was admittedly before everything went to complete shit and we were trying to figure out if our lives were lies.” “Ah, that was very negative. Almost scathing.” He sighs again, a quick kiss to the crown of her head. Her magic needs to calm the fuck down. “Yeah,” Killian agrees, “it was. It’d be easier if it was all balls and bowing and courting, huh?” “You seem to be far more well versed in court etiquette than I am.” “Rebel princess.” “I’m not sure if that was a compliment or not, actually,” Emma says, hooking her finger through one of the belt loops on Killian’s jeans. She nearly strains the muscles in her face smiling at whatever noise that inspires. “Although that might get me on the right track” Another kiss. She’s not counting. She’s harping, a little, but definitely not counting. There’s got to be a line somewhere. 

Emma’s not sure if the line is actually in this realm or not. 

“I’m sorry for the negative, love,” Killian says, dropping his head to drag the words along the side of her jaw and Emma flinches on instinct as soon as his lips ghost over that one, specific spot behind her ear. 

He laughs. 

And pulls her even closer to his chest so she can’t swat at his arm.  

“It really isn’t your fault, Swan,” Killian continues, and Emma knows they’re rehashing and talking in circles and there’s probably a dance metaphor in there, but her mind reaches out towards the words and her magic might actually need the words and the way his voice shifts slightly when he looks at her like that makes her positive not much else matters. 

“Favorite place.” He grins. “Times Square.” “Don’t lie to me.” “I’m not. And, you know, you kind of almost got there already. The library really isn’t that far out of Times Square. It’s like...maybe, two blocks.” “Ok, that was just pitiful,” Emma says, but the insult lacks much insult when she laughs the words out. Killian’s eyebrows lift. “C’mon...I’m serious. This is a legitimate attempt at--” “--Distraction? Deflection?” “Those are both incredibly negative as well.”

“Doesn’t change my answer. Times Square. It’s the best place in all five boroughs, hands down, no other choice.” “Oh my God, that was horrendous!” He widens his eyes when her voice rises, gaze darting back to the still-dark apartment and far-too-loud sound of Will’s consistent snoring. “Swan, if you keep shouting at me, I’m going to start thinking you don’t believe me.”

“Oh, I can’t imagine what would give you that idea. Aren’t officers supposed to be honor-bound to their monarchs or whatever?” “The whatever really added to it,” Killian laughs, hand moving again and Emma shivers when the wind gusts against her skin. “And depending on which story you listen to I’m a variety of different things. I can’t imagine pirates have much honor to them.” “No honor among thieves, huh?” “Something that like.” His gaze goes distant for a moment, flitting over Emma’s shoulder like he’s looking at something she can’t see or remembering something she doesn’t entirely understand and--"Although pirates are usually pretty dashing, right? Rapscallions and all that.” “Good word.” “That’s the librarian version of me.”

“I like that one,” Emma says before she can think better of it and she doesn’t really regret the words. Particularly when they lead to that look – as if she’s the sun or the moon or possibly several different stars of the northern variety, something that would, at the very least, lead any manner of sailor home. 

Back to her. 

Every single time. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” she repeats. “And I think it’s stupid nice that you’re picking Times Square to try and make me feel less like a tourist for picking Times Square.”

“Stupid nice is also a rather impressive string of words.”

Emma scoffs, Killian’s smile settling into something that also feels a bit like home and several facts about space that she’d need a small army of librarians to research. “That was definitely the goal.” She takes a deep breath, reluctantly pulling her hand away and flipping her palm up.

Killian tilts his head. “You don’t want to walk, huh?” “What’s the fun in that?” “Yeah, an absolute joy.” She flutters her fingers. And Killian doesn’t sigh, but he makes that face again and Emma smiles as soon as his hand lands on top of hers. “For what it’s worth, I never really thought you were a tourist.” “What a compliment.” “A natural New Yorker.” “Oh even better,” Emma laughs, lacing her fingers through Killian’s and his thumb finds the back of her wrist almost immediately. “Don’t let go, ok?” The rushing in her ears makes it difficult to hear whatever he says, but Emma would swear he mutters never and the surge of her magic is as strong as it’s ever been. 

They land with a soft thump, sneakers dragging across not-quite empty sidewalks because it’s late, but New York is, well, New York and she’s come to learn that there are always people everywhere. A man in a fur-suit and costumed head balanced against his hip gapes at them. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes, and Killian’s head falls to Emma’s shoulder when he starts laughing. Emma’s eyes bug, yanking her lips behind her teeth. And it only takes a few moments of prolonged staring and increasingly loud laughter before the guy in the fur-suit starts glaring at them, taking a step forward that’s obviously some kind of challenge. 

Killian moves in front of Emma. 

“Oh my God,” she mumbles, knowing it won’t do much because Killian’s fingers are shifting at his side and the fur-suit guy is already talking about how this is my corner and that apparently means something in Times Square. 

“No one is trying to take your corner,” Killian seethes. “Back up.”

“I’ve been here for years--” “--I do not care.” “Killian,” Emma sighs, tugging on the side of his shirt, but that doesn’t do much to help and it really is off-putting that this guy won’t put his costumed head back on. 

“The magic shows are down by Herald Square anyway,” the guy continues, “or in the Village. We’ve got rules here man, you can’t just show up and--”

He snaps his jaw shut whenever he sees whatever expression Emma assumes has appeared on Killian’s face, and she can’t mask her sigh again. So she does what she does best. She breaks the rules and ignores the protocol of Times Square street performers, twisting her wrist and feeling the push of warmth that rushes down her right arm and the man freezes. 

Immediately. 

With his goddamn head in his hand. 

Killian spins on the spot, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. Emma scrunches her nose. “He won’t stay like that forever,” she reasons. “Just...you know, maybe forty-five minutes. Like an hour, tops.”

“Did I mention the brilliant part before? “Yeah, I think I heard that somewhere.”

“Good,” he says, moving back into her space and it’s a little weird to kiss in front of a frozen guy because the head thing really is weird, but Emma is also pretty interested in kissing and she pushes up on her toes before she thinks about it for too long. 

They’re both more than content to stay right there for a moment, rocking back and forth without much concern for the footsteps that move around them and the soft murmurs about their potentially inappropriate public displays of affection, but Emma’s mind can’t slow down, despite her best efforts, and the smell is even worse wherever they are. “Uh, actually 42nd,” Killian says, answering a question she hadn’t even begun to formulate yet. “That’s also impressive because, I think, technically, Times Square stops after 47th Street, so you literally brought us right to the beginning.” “Do you think you’re getting some kind of bonus points for the mind reading thing?” He shakes his head. “Nah, but it’s almost a personal challenge now. Was I right?” “It’s weird.” “Not an answer.” “Why do you not actually like Times Square?” “Are you looking at it?” Emma scowls, but she supposes he’s got a point and it all feels decidedly manufactured. She’s got no idea whatsoever what time it is, but she wouldn’t argue if someone told her it was the middle of the afternoon. The lights around her are that bright. And there are so many of them, varying sizes and colors and flashing patterns. 

It’s a lot to take in. 

There are a few more costumed street performers shuffling around them, approaching people who are probably, actual, tourists, more than a dozen police officers Emma notices on just her first glance around and the trash can at the corner of the sidewalk does not appear to have been emptied in a hundred years. 

At least. 

It’s kind of disappointing. It’s been a very strange night. 

“I’m sorry,” Killian whispers. Emma hears him. Over the din and the cars and there are so many cars and she can’t understand why anyone in their right mind would ever want to drive through this place that is shockingly similar to the picture of the Underworld she’s devised in her mind. 

“For?” “Throw a dart, honestly,” Killian mutters, hand reaching back to tug on the few strands of hair that curl behind his ears. “Everything. You having to be here, getting tugged here because some weird, creepy lady declared your magic was looking for me. That none of it makes sense. That I--” He sighs, squeezing his eyes shut and Emma seriously needs to stop worrying so much about the seemingly never-ending issues she’s having with her tongue. 

It feels too big for her mouth. 

Killian’s eyes open. “I’m sorry it’s not what you were hoping for, Swan.”

It keeps happening. 

These words that aren’t just words, but might be promises and guarantees and this isn’t quite either one of those things. It feels like more. It feels like an explanation and a reason and she hadn’t been hoping for any of this. 

She’d been hoping for the exact, opposite, actually. 

And her magic brought her here anyway. To him. And the, technical, start of Times Square. 

She reaches up, tugging his hand away from his hair and it’d probably be weird to brush her lips over the back of his palm, but she kind of wants to and he beats her to it. Figures. His mouth is soft against her skin, slow and measured movements that feel like another dance and even more rhythm, a return to something forgotten and absolutely necessary. 

She seriously needs to get a goddamn grip. 

“Where would you go?” Emma asks, gritting her teeth when someone honks a car horn behind her. “Anywhere.” “I think we’re a little bound by the city, love.” “You’re being difficult on purpose.” “Yeah, that might be true.” “So pick. C’mon, babe.” She does it on purpose. She knows it. Killian knows it. The costumed guy knows it and he’s frozen for, at least, the next forty-three minutes. 

“Alright,” Killian nods, the grip on her hand tightening just a bit. “Let’s take a walk.”

Emma has no idea where they’re going. It’s nice. In a way that letting go of the fear and the anxiety that’s crept up her spine and lingered at the base of her skull for the last few weeks is nice. So, naturally, she doesn’t do exactly that. She lets herself stop worrying for a moment, but she holds onto Killian’s hand, twisting and turning across city blocks that all start to blur together a bit and the lights get a little dimmer and the noise gets a little softer and, eventually, she stops smelling that smell. 

She smells salt. 

“The water,” she mutters, an obvious string of words that probably shouldn’t sound quite as surprised as they are. Killian hums, rocking back on his heels and taking a deep breath. They’re still on the wrong side of the street, an avenue that looks almost impossible to cross, with far too many cars for whatever time it actually is, but Emma’s never been happier to be proved wrong. 

He grins at her, even before the light changes, mumbling something that sounds a hell of a lot like just follow me and she’s got no reason to argue that. They twist and turn, another string of impossible movements that aren’t magic, but feel a little bit like an even more powerful teleport and Emma laughs as soon as the railing in front of her collides with her stomach. 

Killian’s a little out of breath, his own smile making it seem like his eyes are the lights now and maybe she should just ask Regina if there’s some kind of spell to, like, sedate her and her sentimentality or something. 

“When I first got to New York,” Killian starts, and Emma stops laughing almost immediately, “I didn’t have two cents to my name. I don’t--I haven’t really thought about it in a long time because it’s all kind of a blur, but I knew Liam was gone and I was so...angry. At everything and everyone and the whole goddamn world.” “That’s not unreasonable.”

“You’ve been incredibly understanding about this several times now, Swan, but it doesn’t change the fact that I was kind of an ass about it.” “But you came here?” He hums, soft in the back of his throat. Emma takes a step to her right, fingers curling around the bit of plastic at the end of his arm and she feels him flinch before she hears his breath catch. “Aye,” Killian breathes, another repeat that makes every bit of magic Emma’s rise up and jump and maybe do a few cartwheels just for good measure. “It was--I joined the Navy because I wanted to do something good. Wanted to...defend is an awfully hokey word isn’t it?” “Yeah,” Emma nods. “But it’s kind of nice.” “Ah, well that’s the line I’m trying to walk, for sure.”

She might giggle. There is, at the very least, a small army of butterflies in her stomach. “What’s the earliest thing you remember?” “In my life?” “Is that--”

“--Emma, I’m not sure there’s a question you could ask me that would be overstepping at this point. I...I want to know too.”

And it’s not exactly everything, still not a promise or a guarantee or a very specific string of words Emma absolutely, positively should not be thinking because it’s been a few weeks and fate is...stupid and impossible and she can’t shake that feeling in the back of her mind. She wishes Times Square hadn’t been so lame. 

She takes a deep breath instead. 

“So why’d you come here, then?” 

Killian grits his teeth. “I don’t remember a ton,” he says. “Before Boston or even really in the Navy. Just...that I was there. It’s like, uh, looking at something through glass, you know? It all gets warped and changed and none of it makes much sense, but there’s bits and pieces.” “The space heater thing?” “Exactly. And this. The water. There’s just...it’s kind of like this tug, almost. That if I came back here and watched the waves and the surf, everything else would settle. I’d settle.” “I don’t understand that last part.” He makes another noise and Emma knows exactly what word goes with it, but she doesn’t want to use it because it makes the butterflies stop fluttering and the bile rise in the back of her throat and her magic doesn’t just surge. It roars. In something almost akin to rage. 

And determination. 

As if it’s desperate to protect, to wrap itself around him and utter those promises and how much she wants and hopes and Killian’s eyes widen to a size that cannot good for him because he can feel all of that. 

“I don’t know,” he whispers. “I...for as long as I can remember, Swan. It’s always been this--” He can’t seem to hold her gaze, eyes darting anywhere that isn’t her as if he’s terrified of the reception he’ll get. And Emma ignores the growing ache in her legs from the walking and the dancing and the fighting off the butterfly army, crowding against him and resting her palm on his cheek. He kisses exactly where his lips land. 

“Out of place, right?” she asks. His eyes get even wider. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I...get that, a lot, actually.” “I used to come here every night. It’d get dark and I’d been in that library all day and it always felt like I was looking for something I forgot to write down. I’d stack books and put things away and it was as if the one, last thing I was searching for was just out of reach. Like smoke or something.” “Good metaphor.” Killian chuckles, the crack of a smile on his face making the butterflies shift again. “Flattery, love,” he mutters. “So I would come here. And I’d stand and watch. It was a wonder I didn’t get arrested for loitering.” “This is probably public property, they can’t do that. That’s just basic law.” “Ah, well, good thing you’re here to tell me that now.” Emma rolls her eyes. If only because she’s so impossibly endeared she doesn’t know what else to do. “I was never really worried about that though,” Killian adds. “Mostly because I didn’t care. I was...not empty. What’s the opposite?” “Full.” “Nah, that’s not it either. I was overflowing with everything I was feeling because I wasn’t sure what it was. Too much, honestly. And none of it made sense. Like I said, flashes and memories and little moments that didn’t add up to anything. They said there might have been some symptoms of that after--” “--After,” Emma cuts in sharply. “Oh, shit did you--” The realization shakes through her, rattling down her vertebrae and it’s heavy enough that she falls back on her heels. “When Liam…” “Died? You can say it, love.” She rolls her eyes again, frustration she’s not even remotely entitled to. “Were you hurt too?” “Makes sense, doesn’t it?” Killian shrugs. “I woke up in Boston with wisps of memories and hints of a past that, now, makes even less sense, but there were doctors there and I’ve got--” He holds up his hand, like that proves anything and Emma doesn’t think. 

God, she’s got to stop doing that.

She jerks both her hands forward, fingers wrapping around plastic and a limb that doesn’t allow much movement and Killian is not breathing. She knows he’s not. He’s staring at her in disbelief and something very close to wonder and they both ignore how choppy the water on the other side of the railing is. 

His eyes are definitely bluer than they were before. Emma licks her lips, not entirely sure what her plan is or if she even has one, but her magic refuses to settle and she refuses to let Killian think any less than exactly what he is and--”It doesn’t make a difference,” she says, hoping he hears the words for what they are and what she’s not actually saying. He clenches his jaw. “No matter what,” Emma continues, “I...what’s the first thing you remember?” “The water.” “What?” “The water,” Killian repeats. “That’s why I would come here. Because that was always what I thought about and it...was calming. Not just the water, either. The smell. Salt in the air and it was warm. I remember that perfectly. The back of my neck burned, but I never went inside.” “Seems to be a theme, huh?” He nods, ducking to catch her in a quick kiss. “There was water and a dock. And...the sun, light reflecting off the waves and--” Emma’s heart is going to explode out of her chest. “It wasn’t just the sun,” Killian mutters, sounding confused and a little scared and the clouds above them must have shifted because Emma swears his face moves into the shadow as soon as he tilts his head. “That’s insane, right?” “I don’t know.” “I hate to tell you this, Swan, but that’s not the most inspired answer.” She lets out a shaky laugh, even less confidence than usual. “Tell me something about Storybrooke, then. Something good. Something...magical.” “Is this flirting?” “It’s unfortunate that you have to ask.” Her eyes are going to get stuck mid-roll, but her mind is firing again and the memory can’t possibly be the same. 

It’s insane. 

It’s not. 

She really hopes her heart doesn’t explode out of her chest. Emma isn’t sure there’s a spell to fix exploding hearts. 

“I could probably eat, like, five grilled cheese sandwiches in one sitting. Granny makes them at the diner in town and it’s...my love of them is almost legendary. Ruby would bring me some when I’d get stuck with paperwork because David and Mary Margaret were off being somewhere disgustingly in love and--”

“--Is five your record?” “I don’t know that I’ve ever counted, but you know...they’re not super big sandwiches, so I’m going to say five is definitely a possibility.” Killian doesn’t laugh. That’s the good part. The less good part is whatever he does with his face, slightly stunned and a little overwhelmed and Emma is wholly unprepared for the movement, a shift and another shadow and her gasp is probably helpful. It makes it easier for his tongue move into her mouth. 

She arches her back, trying to push herself further against him, which is either the best or worst decision she’s ever made, but they really can’t get arrested for loitering and she’s doubtful about New York’s public decency laws and she wants, wants, wants. 

“God, I can’t think when you do that,” she says.

“Swan, the complaints, love.” “Was I complaining?” “Certainly sounded like it.”

Emma hums, pushing back up and the hand on her back feels like a weight and an anchor and, possibly, the only thing tethering her to reality.

And in the rest of her life that will follow, hours and days and years, Emma will never know what possesses her to say the next few words out her mouth. It’s as if she’s been switched on or something else has been switched off, a certainty that this is her best option and only option and it makes perfect sense.

“What if we left?” she asks. “Now. Right now?” “I thought you weren’t running.” “Only towards danger.”

“Oh, that was good, Swan,” Killian says. “You want to go find Excalibur at two in the morning? On our own?”

“How did you know that?” “You do this thing with your face when you’ve started to formulate a plan. It’s wonderful.” Emma does, in fact, make a face at that. Which only serves to, finally, make Killian laugh. “See,” he grins. “You’re doing it now. You twist your lips so it’s like...one side gets tugged down and your nose just defies the laws of physics.” “These are not compliments.” “They are, love, I promise.”

She doesn’t argue. She doesn’t particularly want to. She wants to go find Excalibur at two in the morning, fueled, almost solely, on the idea that Killian remembers a memory that can’t possibly exist. “Would you go?” Emma asks. “With me...I mean.” “Of course.” It’s more conviction and certainty and probably some other word that starts with ‘c’ and maybe a few other words that are far too big to be considering yet, but Emma mutters ok under her breath and pushes up on her toes to kiss him and the magic wraps around both of them almost immediately. 

They land outside of Grand Central Station and they’re definitely getting better at not stumbling. Emma waves her hand at the lock in front of her, the soft sound of it snapping open satisfying and, she hopes, some kind of sign for their future success. 

“Do you not ever have to say the words out loud?” Killian asks, following her into the main hall and it’s weird. The pictures they’d found online were all of a bustling transportation hub, people everywhere with briefcases and less-than-impressed expressions, trying to catch trains and there’s probably another metaphor in there somewhere. 

Something about time and how it keeps passing them by or whatever. 

Emma shakes her head. “Regina would kill me if she knew I wasn’t. Supposedly it helps with control to kind of...focus the magic into the words and the spell, but control’s never really been my thing and it’s just--” “--It’s just?” “It’s easier to do it when you’re around,” Emma says, rushing over the words like they’re embarrassing. Killian beams. “Oh, don’t look so smug.” “I’m not anything, Swan. I’m processing. Appreciating new information, as it were.” “Smug.” She’s going to magic his eyebrows to one, specific spot on his face. Killian laughs again, another press of his lips to her cheek. “C’mon,” he says, “Belle said the building prints had some kind of secret entrance down in the corner by the food court.” It’s even creepier down there – which is really saying something because Emma’s skin had exploded with goosebumps when they walked by that giant clock and the whole thing felt a little heavy-handed – but now they’re in some kind of basement that isn’t a basement and nothing is open and it all looks a little grey. 

The chairs squeak when they move around them, trying to find a secret hatch or a hidden door knob and--”Here,” Emma says, a pull low in her stomach and she can’t ignore that kind of magic. It’s obvious. And completely foreign. “That’s...that’s weird.” “Yeah, it is.” She blinks. “Wait, what? You can feel that too?” Killian nods, eyes going distant again and Emma’s only a little worried she’s lost complete control of the situation already. “Yeah,” he mumbles, recoiling from the wall like it’s shocked him. “It’s like--” “--Music?” “That’s what it sounds like.”

Emma leans forward, like that will help her hear better. She’s pleasantly surprised when it works. Because the music grows and the sound isn’t altogether unpleasant and Killian curses under his breath as soon as the doorknob they were looking for appears. 

“God, that’s so weird,” Emma muses. She reaches forward anyway, a quick turn and another loud click of a different lock and there’s a hallway in front of them, low lights and not much suggesting that it’s an obvious threat, but Emma can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t quite right. 

“Huh.” “Articulate.” “Yeah, I’m not sure I can come up with anything else,” Killian says. He takes a deep breath, straightening his shoulders and ignoring whatever objection Emma only half gets out before he takes a step around her and crosses the threshold into the catacomb that’s just magically opened up. He holds his hand out. “You ready?” “Loaded question.” “Yup.” “Yeah,” Emma says, not sure if she’s answering or agreeing and it’s probably both. “Let’s go.”

It’s very dusty. That’s the first thing she notices. And filled with cobwebs. There are no windows, they’re underground, just heavy air and a small cloud of dirt every time Emma and Killian’s feet move another step forward. 

On Track 61. 

Killian lets out a low whistle, more than one kiss pressed to the top of Emma’s hair. “It does seem rather vast, doesn’t it?” “Never-ending, even. Have you seen anything that even looks like anything?”

The words are no sooner out of her mouth than they turn another corner, Emma’s fingers still tied up with Killian’s and a ball of light in her other hand, and they both mumble several rather pointed curses. 

There’s stuff everywhere. And stuff is about the best way to describe it. There’s no rhyme or reason to it – small piles of what, at first glance, appear to be various flatware sets, with far too many forks for one person, and more than a few paintings, empty candelabras and--”Is that a bust? Like...of person?”

Killian hums, moving towards it and Emma doesn’t have much choice to follow. He clicks his tongue, a quiet appraisal. “I think that’s Hans Christian Andersen.” “How would you know that?” “I know everything.” “You’re not nearly as charming as you think you are.”

He glances over his shoulder, a flash of a smirk when his lips move. “I think that’s a defense mechanism because you’re actually so charmed by me.” “Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” she argues, another lie that’s almost painfully bad. “I don’t...this is just junk, though.” “You think it’s more than one person’s stuff?” “Don’t you?” “I don’t know,” Killian shrugs. “Maybe.” “And no sword.”

She’s not really expecting more flirting, so she can’t say she’s disappointed when she doesn’t get it, but Emma is admittedly a little surprised that she doesn’t even get a response. It is, she quickly realizes, because Killian’s gaze has moved over her head, staring at a high archway with his lips parted slightly. 

“Babe,” Emma mutters, falling back on recently-acquired habits and the hope that it will work. It does not. Damn. “Killian.” His brows furrow, blinking quickly and she’s not sure what to do with the look on his face – a mix of curiosity and fear that doesn’t add up at all. “Killian,” Emma repeats. “What’s...what are you looking at?” “I think we have to go that way.” “What? Why?” “I don’t--I just know.” Emma can’t argue with that. She won’t. “Ok,” she says slowly, moving her arm so she can lace her fingers through his and neither one of them stumble when they walk forward. 

She’s got no idea how long it takes, a seemingly never-ending tunnel illuminated only by the light in her free hand. Everything looks stale, as if it’s overstayed its welcome or gone bad and that’s a slightly menacing thought, but Emma’s also seem more cobwebs in the last ten minutes than she knew could ever exist and Killian keeps brushing them away so she doesn’t walk through them. 

“An officer and a gentleman,” she says, a fairly pitiful attempt to joke and this tunnel has to end eventually. “Hey, uh...you want to get dinner sometime or something?” Killian’s face turns incredulous. “You’re asking me out? Right now?” “I mean, you know after we deal with Excalibur and maybe aren’t buried alive--” “--We’re not buried alive, Swan. We can very easily get back into Grand Central.” “Is this you avoiding the question?” “No,” Killian says, far too quickly and the tips of his ears go red. Emma widens her eyes. “I’d like that. The dinner. And the getting out of here.” “Tough to breathe, right?” He hums noncommittally, another far away gaze that Emma follows. She gasps. She’s got to stop doing that. But she can see what he’s looking at and what he’s looking at is a goddamn sword in a goddamn stone like they’ve suddenly been transported into a Disney movie. 

“So, seems fairly real, huh?” Killian asks lightly. 

“Yeah. Very real. What do you think we do?” “Well, according to the legend only the rightful heir to Camelot could pull the sword from the stone, but I’m not sure we’re playing with the usual rules here.” He takes a step forward, grunting when Emma doesn’t follow immediately. “What?”

“What the hell are you doing? You can’t just touch that thing?” “Why not? I’m not going to let you do it.” “I have magic,” Emma yells. “You can feel it! I’m supposed to be the one to save everything.”

Killian’s smile turns a little placating and Emma gets it – she’s kind of whining, but her magic also feels like it’s boiling under her skin and something is wrong here. They shouldn’t be here. “I think it’s got to be me, Emma,” Killian says, and she knows that’s right too. She hates that. She wishes she understood why. “I can...I knew it was here.”

“Ok.” He kisses her before she moves and she doesn’t want to think it’s the last one, but it feels a hell of a lot like that and everything that happens after that happens far too quickly and far too slowly and the ground shakes under her feet. 

Killian’s hand lands on the sword, a jolt moving through his entire body that doesn’t look natural, but does look a little magical and the shadows that had lingered on the walls around them drift towards his feet. They creep up his legs and wrap around his shoulders, head falling forward when it all gets too much. 

Emma can’t move. She’s frozen to the spot, Killian’s face twisted when he hisses in a breath of air that makes her own breath catch. Loudly. 

His knees never actually buckle and that may almost be worse, as if his legs are locked into place by the darkness that clings to him. His tongue flashes between his lips more than once, eyes screwed shut and his knuckles have turned white where they’re holding the sword. 

And then it’s over. 

Fast and slow, good and bad, light and dark. All at the same time. 

Killian’s head snaps up, eyes wide with disbelief. There’s sweat on his forehead, hair matted to his skin and Emma’s lungs are burning. She still hasn’t moved. It doesn’t matter. He does. 

He moves back into her space in three steps, a hand cupping her cheek with a tenderness that contradicts that the pitch-like color of his gaze. “Emma,” he whispers, and it sounds like a plea. “Emma?”

She shakes her head slowly and in the grand scheme of flight or fight situations, Emma’s a little disappointed when she doesn’t react at all. Her magic, however, is a different story and Killian’s smile is wide, if not a little jarring, the curl of it turning a bit predatory when his gaze meets hers.

“You’ve got to remember, Emma. I need you to remember.”

“Remember what?”

“Us. Please, love. I...I need you to trust me.” “I do,” Emma says immediately, and she means it. Completely. “Of course, I do.” Killian mumbles something she can’t understand, ducking down so he’s almost even with Emma and the magic that sparks around them isn’t hers. 

It’s his. 

And part of her knows it’s coming, the kiss and the feeling and she wants it, desperately, but part of her is wholly unprepared for the force of the emotion behind it, greedy and needy and it’s more out-of-place rhyme because the magic surrounding both of them soars. The first burst of light takes her by surprise, but then there are more, splashes of color staining the walls around them and the tracks under their feet and Emma almost feels like they’re dancing again, swaying into each other’s space and each other’s memory. 

She presses up, Killian groaning when her tongue swipes against his lips and her fingers scratch at the back of his hair and she remembered that. She remembered that happening before, the same sound in a dimly lit corridor and a dress that made his eyes widen and they’d been dancing. 

She only realizes she’s closed her eyes when they snap open, a spectrum of colors everywhere she looks and she remembers. 

It was them.  

Is. Present tense. 

“Oh, shit,” Emma breathes, and that’s the least dignified response she could have come come up with. 

Killian’s smile widens, another searing kiss and he lets his forehead rest against hers. “Eloquent, darling,” he says. “Your highness. Sorry I’m late.”

Tag List: @kmomof4 @shireness-says @profdanglaisstuff @captainsjedi @thejollyroger-writer@winterbaby89 @melsbels @tiganasummertree @jennjenn615 @idristardis @cssns

[royal-writer]

Comfort

giveth myself the content i require

-

It was hard to breathe, just how she liked it. At least, that’s how she preferred it right now. It felt like she was being smothered between the heat and tightness of the comforter, wound around her in a cocoon. She planted her face in the pillow, trying to disguise her screaming- and her brief moats of angry, scared, hurt tearful sobbing.

She hated this. She hated the unknown, the responsibility, the fact that despite Jubata’s words; despite the fact that fate itself told her it would work out, she felt certain they would fail. That she would fail them.

Howling and clawing at the sheets did nothing to solve her problems. It didn’t answer her questions. It didn’t make life any easier, and it certainly didn’t erase the past few days- the past few months- of chaos. It didn’t help that Abernathy had not only ignored her prior discouragement to reveal to the Council at the dinner table about her ominious visions; or the fact he told them on her behalf. Did he think so little of her? Did he have absolutely no respect or belief that she could handle it herself that he had to butt in? Or did he really think himself the only voice; the only authority because of his old stature among his Order?

Above all, Essätha wanted to scream her voice raw and hoarse, but withheld the desire. It, too, would not benefit her.

By the time the creaking of the door announced another entry into the room, she was once more huddled up; a ball curled tight within the blanket. She had not ceased existing, no matter how much she willed and begged it.

The scuffle of boots; refined, poised, was familiar to her. It was strange how well she knew it. The weight, the measure of the steps, the beat of his march as it resonated through the room.

The silence that followed was thick and tangible.

“Essie…”

It was a whisper, tired and faint; fearful as though to wake her.

She could fake sleep. Even if he knew it was fact, she was certain he would give her the peace right now, with understanding.

Instead she muffled a noise beneath the comforter, rolling around but not removing it from over her head or body right away. She paused. Flipped around. He waited, patiently. She flipped the other way, squirming only enough to reveal the top of her head, slightly past her eyes to peer out at the nobleman.

“… Are you going to bed already, too?”

He seemed surprised. “I hadn’t decided,” Amon replied, slowly. “I was… I just wanted to check on you.”

She blinked slowly, trying to read his expression. It was passively neutral, or maybe she was just that drained she could not tell as well as she usually could. But his eyes were as genuine and warm as they always seemed to be, searching her expression in return.

“Would it be alright if I held you?” she burst out suddenly; the pangs of loneliness seeping in her veins. It was a request she felt comfortable asking no other. Even now it embarrassed her; rosy cheeks and nibbling lip he could not see beneath the duvet.

Lord Amon seemed shocked by the request; his own face turning slightly pink and his eyes widening. He coughed rather abruptly, turning his eyes away before offering her one of those sheepish smiles she was getting used to seeing. She kinda liked them, truth be told. She had a feeling it was hard to get the nobleman to act so shy when he was usually such a strong, steady, stoic character.

“… If you want to. But perhaps, you would like to be held… j-just this once?”

She considered his question, oblivious to the nervous jump in his throat. He appeared as though he had more to say, but stopped himself short, hesitating at every opportunity his mouth slightly parted.

No, she hadn’t thought about being held. She really didn’t consider he’d want to, anyway. But the very thought sent warm tingles burning in her veins with anticipation.

Essie nodded. “An embrace would be nice,” she summarized.

Nodding, Amon bent down, briefly taking the time- with more haste than he usually did- to loosen the lacing of his boots and drop them to the side. When he was through, he hopped on to the side of the bed, enough to make it bounce a bit and give her a brief, stiff giggle. The nobleman passed her an anxious but gentle smile in response to her snickering, and eased onto his side.

Uncurling the edges of her wrapped prison, Essätha wiggled across the distance. Amon made an audible ‘oof’ as she collided with him before he was ready, falling against his chest as he lay partly on his side, and partly towards his back.

He chuckled softly as her arms squeezed tightly around him. To her fierce little hold, he responded with one more kind, and soft. His arms placed around her, a dangerously safe haven she was becoming all but too used to feeling. One she enjoyed too much to make any sense, but if he would allow her the blissful sanctuary of his open arms, she was going to dive right into the well of good feelings it bubbled up inside her.

“Thank you, m’lord Amon.”

She could feel the jump in his exhale as her words muffled against his shirt with surprise.

“You’re welcome, Essätha.”

Silence enveloped them. She found herself counting the seconds between the depth of his breathes. Then the sound of his heartbeat; calm and lulling, was barely audible beneath her ear. She focused on this instead, and forgot to count entirely. It was a dependable melody; as much as he was. Essie found herself forgetting things, one by one, dropping the hurricane thoughts from her mind as she just listened, and breathed, and fell into the same rhythm as his own.

A hand soothed against her back in circles. It reminded her of events days ago, with the Raven Lord and what they’d done to Master Vodamire. The thought should make her frighten, but all she could recall was the comfort of his hands then, in the same gesture as they were now, and how it… it made her burdens seem less overwhelming. Like she could breathe, for a time.

Reaching for the edges of the blanket, Amon tucked it gently around her a bit more, adding a comforting pressure around her entire body to go with his arms. It was quite relaxing…

“Will you hold me tonight, m’lord?” She hated how small her voice sounded; once again fueled with fear.

Amon squeezed her a bit tighter. “I would be very happy to do so, Essätha.”

She closed her eyes, a dreamy sigh rolling out of her lungs.

“Thank you, my dear,” she mumbled; only after her words realizing the misspoken word falling into her vocabulary. At the very least, it seemed Amon didn’t mind; or maybe didn’t notice or hear her properly, remaining still at ease as he rubbed his palm slowly over her.

She would rest easy tonight, at least.

A vague memory of the spoken prophecy loomed in the back of her mind, and she shuddered.

She hoped.

[booksteaopera]

Gretel & Hansel by Osgood Perkins, 2020

I just finished watching this movie and I am so in love with the aesthetics, the architecture, the coloured lighting that appears from time to time, and the not so traditional costumes, that I can’t quite move on to something else just yet (although I really must get back to my translation of Lascia ch’io pianga, due tomorrow morning). But it’s too late to start writing a proper review, so I’ll just let you know what I thought about it, and get back to my actual review later.

If you know me well, you know that I’m a former art history major with a slight obsession for folklore, the history of fashion, and matching colour palettes (among other weird / random obsessions). I guess that after studying art for so many years, literally every day, for hours on end, before, during and after school, I ended up seeing “art” in the littlest things IRL. Thus, I am even more sensitive to it when it is "done on purpose”, so to speak, namely for cinematic purposes (but not just: it’s what makes me especially attracted to certain opera stagings and contemporary art performances). 

Everything about this movie looks and sounds like something I’d have wanted to write or film, if I had to make an adaptation of a folk tale. Even more troubling, parts of this film look exactly like a very disturbing nightmare I had just two days ago. My nightmare’s setting was 1900′s Romania, granted, and this is 1800-something Ireland, but the reason why the two are so similar, and why this speaks to me on a personal level isn’t because I’m so vain I see my life in other people’s more talented works, or because this style is so overdone that I even dream about it. It’s because Osgood Perkins is extremely well-read on the source material of Hansel and Gretel, the history of witchcraft in Western Europe, and masters the aesthetics of Romantic painting and Gothic literature. 

The artistic direction of this film is simply stunning. It is set in Fall, with the beautiful contrast of red leaves against ash-coloured fog. The costumes are reminiscent of Norwegian and Swedish folk costumes, with some German and Welsh hats here and there that make you wonder: where does this take place, really? There are no traditional headdresses or intricate embroideries that might give an additional hint, in fact, the costumes are very, very plain but made in a way that tells you “once upon a time, in a faraway land...” This doesn’t have to be precise, as it is a fairy tale, but it is still precise enough to hint at real places, real cultures, and all kinds of stories. Likewise, it is difficult to pin point an actual era during which this took place; the lord of the local manor seems to be dressed in late 18th century knee breeches and certainly wears the makeup of the nobility of the time, but later, we see a huntsman with a late 14th century German houppelande. Meanwhile, most of the people in the witch’s backstory flashbacks, as well as the two children, seem to wear folk clothing of the 18th-20th centuries, which keeps things even more vague.  The architecture is very reminiscent of what can be seen in Midsommar. On the one hand, there is traditional, local 18th century architecture you’d see in Ireland, Brittany and possibly elsewhere in the British Isles or beyond, but on the other hand, there is angular, geometric, wooden architecture reminiscent of the “temple” in Midsomar. Are we in Scandinavia or the British Isles? Who knows. There’s an interesting play on windows, especially their colour and the shape of the glass; you might notice that contrarily to the architecture, they almost never have angles, there are no triangles or rectangles, only rounded shapes. Most of them are coloured too, which adds different kinds of atmospheres to different scenes, of course. 

There’s a play on coloured lights too, as mentioned above, whether it’s moonlight during the nighttime scenes, or just plain coloured light emanating from an ominious place. Coloured smoke also comes into play at different times, especially during one specific flashback. The main colour palettes are cold, neutral colours: grey, blue, white, black for scenes meant to reflect a character’s depression, nighttime or a rainy day- perhaps the cold and loneliness of the abandoned children in the forest. Other times, the colours are red, orange, and mustard yellow against the grey of the fog and leafless trees. This is most of the time, and is highlighted by the children: they are wearing grey-blue clothing with some burgundy highlights, and Gretel’s short red hair is mirrored by Hansel’s red cap. The only striking exception of these very neutral, cold colour palettes is the “child with the pink cap”: she is wearing a pink and yellow ensemble, which looks completely out of place and almost painful in this scenery and among the people wearing colours that blend into the setting. But this, of course, is symbolic.  Likewise, the choice of lighting is key: many of the characters are shot in back-light, while many of the scenes that take place in nature have a low, white-coloured light-source at the horizon, respecting the 1/3 - 2/3 proportions rule. And as mentioned previously, the lighting of interior scenes is usually coloured, so as to reflect a specific character’s mood or influence on the scene taking place. 

The scenes’ composition were so carefully crafted that almost every shot could have been a 19th century painting. This is particularly true when it comes to the witch’s flashbacks, which seem to follow mostly what we call “bas-relief” composition in art history: when most of the characters and important elements (plants, objects, architecture) of the painting are lined up in a single vertical line composed of different grounds (the most important elements being in the foreground, and the least important elements being in the background). A variation of this is several horizontal lines. But when we look at Gretel, the protagonist, as a single character, the composition of the shot is often “pyramidal”, with Gretel being in the middle, and various elements (usually furniture, frescoes on the walls, stairs, etc) either above or beside her, on both sides, to frame her as the important character she is. In French, we call this trick a repoussoir: you are creating a setting that might seem insignificant, but that highlights the scene or character in the foreground, by “pushing” against them from the sides of the picture. This visual “trick” was very popular in 18th century painting, especially “historical” paintings with a historical, heroic and/or mythological setting.  The whole movie is sprinkled with references to art history: the witch’s flashbacks refer to Courbet’s Realist movement (long, horizontal paintings depicting peasants’ daily lives in very neutral colour palettes), many of the forest scenes seem straight out of a 17th century landscape painting or a 19th century Romantic painting, the windows have some Art Nouveau elements to them, and the coloured lights, folk costumes and eerie atmosphere are evocative of Norwegian Romantic painter Hans Dahl, whose works have been featured on several Black Metal album covers. Funnily enough, some reviewers actually noticed this resemblance and stated that the movie was “too long” and “should have just been a Heavy Metal music video”- which I strongly disagree with, but that’s beside the point. 

Talking about music: I will definitely have to re-watch this movie or listen to its score, because as someone mentioned elsewhere, the music isn’t, interestingly, your average Hollywoodian / Second Viennese School creepy strings and dissonances. Rather, it’s all smooth synthesizer, 80′s styled background melodies. I can’t really say more about the music, it didn’t catch my attention and I’d rather listen to it again before commenting on it. What really grabbed my attention was the visual aesthetics, of course, and the way the story was developed with some interesting interpretations of the myth and additional side-plots that eventually change the ending. 

Now many, many people disliked this film because they thought that it was “boring” and “too slow”. Let me set things straight: this movie is slow in the way that Robert Eggers’ “The Witch” was slow. So was Lorcan Finnegan’s “Vivarium”, and so was Night Shyamalan’s “The Visit”. But I loved it because it is a contemplative work of art that requires time to truly enjoy every side plot, every reference, and the sheer beauty of the shots. It would be just as absurd to dash through a museum exhibition without stopping to take in and enjoy every piece put on display, or to rush through a Byronic poem. That said, it is still well paced, in my opinion, and definitely not as slow as films like David Lowery’s “A Ghost Story”, for instance. It’s not an action-packed blockbuster, but it’s not slow either. It’s a beautiful indie movie with a powerful plot twist in the end, the best coming of age movie I’ve seen for a while, and definitely the best movie adaptation of “Hansel and Gretel” I’ve ever seen.  In other words: go watch it!