#wizard x reader

[monstersflashlight]

Patreon Commission for anon

Request: Could you do something about a reader who was cursed by a witch/wizard to not be able to feel any passion/pleasure until they touch their soulmate? Either the witch is their mate and didn't realize, or just like a random monster idk. Can be SFW or NSFW, up to you. Thank you!!

A/N: This was more painful than anticipated because I took it a step further, hope that’s okay, ended up very sweet. Enjoy the angst, I guess. :)

Touch repellent

Wizard x fem!reader || sfw, hurt/comfort, lots of banter

It takes you two years to realize there’s something wrong with you.

Every time you touch or are touched, your body reaction is utter disgust. At first you don’t sweat it, weird people made you react like that before… But then you try to kiss a girl and your whole body rejects the feeling, nausea filling your throat until you want to puke. You walk to your house completely confused, not knowing what is wrong with you.

You spend the next couple weeks testing your theory, and every time you touch somebody, the same happens. Disgust fills your body until you are almost shivering, your body reacting badly to every single touch. Even worse, if the intentions are romantic or sexual. Which sucks, because you want to kiss pretty ladies and boys.

So you do what you didn’t want to do. You go back home to look for help. To the place you remember being happy for the last time. To the place you felt like you were alive and touch still feel like a part of you. Where you could hug your mom and feel happy about it, where you could pat your friends in the back and feel the camaraderie… You needed to have that back. You don’t know what’s wrong with you, but you need it back, you want to feel normal, to be able to touch people and enjoy it again…

Even if he’s there.

He, as in, your wizard childhood friend who you haven’t seen since you left. He insisted on you cutting ties if you decided to leave, and you couldn’t do anything to argue with him. It hurt. It hurt more than anything to leave him behind, it hurt even worse than feeling awful every time someone touched you. Leaving him behind was like tearing a part of you, but he rejected you, and you couldn’t be there without feeling the pain every time you looked.

So you left.

And you hurt.

But now, back home and knocking on his door to seek answers to a question you didn’t know how to formulate, your whole body is shivering in anticipation. That never happened before. It’s like your soul is reaching out to touch him, to seek him. And the second he opens the door and lets you in, you feel calmer than you have felt in a very long, long time.

When he reaches out to shake your hand, as if you didn’t know everything about the other until you left, you don’t get the usual anguish or disgust. It feels different. Better. It feels like everything in the world is okay again just by that simple gesture.

And then it clicks.

All those years ago, when you left him. When you walked away after he asked you to stay and you knew you couldn’t because he didn’t love you like that. Because you knew your feelings were unrequited…

“It was you!” You scream, a threatening finger pointing in his direction, pushing his chest until he’s against the wall and you are fuming with pent up anger.

He has the audacity to act surprised, and that only makes you angrier. “What do you mean?” He tries to fake, not moving, his back against the wall as he looks down at you. You hate (lie) that he’s so tall, that he’s looking down on you even when you are furious with him.

“I haven’t been able to do anything, to feel anything… Every time I touched another being, I could only feel disgust… And now I touch you and it feels warm, and cozy, it feels like coming home…” Your words leave a bitter taste in your tongue, the realization of what happened settling uncomfortably inside your chest.

The asshole smirks. “It does?” You want to punch him in the face.

“You cursed me!” You accuse, the pain in your voice making his smirk deflate.

He looks at you with confusion and a hint of anger, but you don’t back down, fully aware that you are right, because your palm is against his chest, and you aren’t feeling disgust. It only feels warm and content. It only feels incredible and like anything you’ve ever felt before.

“I…” He hesitates. “I did,” he finally admits, looking ashamed for the first time since you entered. Your hand finds his neck, not pressing, not hurting, just resting there as a threat (but not really).

“Why would you do that? Why would you want me to feel disgust upon touching others?” You try not to sound pained by it, but it hurts, your eyes filled with tears. It hurts that not only he rejected you, but he hated you that much that he couldn’t even let you be happy with others.

“Because… Because I…” He stutters. “Because I loved you,” his voice sounds like a surrender, and your brain short-circuits.

You aren’t expecting his response and your hold on his neck releases a little. “What?” You aren’t sure if you feel more surprised or betrayed. He loved you?

He’s still struggling to talk, stuttering, but he explains: “I could sense that you were my mate, but you couldn’t... And you were so fixated in others, in going away from me, enjoying others… I just… I wanted you to suffer a tiny fraction of what I felt. So I cursed you.” He sounds completely defeated, and your soul hurts for him. Hurts for you. For the misunderstanding. For the way you two suffered because he was stupid (and okay, maybe you were, too).

“Why didn’t you just say something, you stupid shit?” You yell at him, your hand pressing down on his chest as the other curls around the side of his neck, almost a caress. “I thought you didn’t want me!” That part leaves you breathless, the anger slipping out of you and leaving your body trembling and defeated.

It’s his turn to look at you, perplexed. “What?”

“I loved you, too, you stupid maroon! I was so in love with you it hurt to be near you. But you never acted on it even though we were mates, that’s why I left!” You don’t want to scream, but the last part comes out a bit high pitched and painful. Like there’s spikes in your throat, and when you look up and meet his eyes, it only hurts worse.

“But you… You always talked about others and I…” His voice is barely a whisper, as if he never even thought of the possibility of you loving him back. Of you understanding what mates were… Stupid wizard.

You pinch his nipple through his shirt until he shuts up and lets out a yelp. “You were a stupid wizard who didn’t know how to read the room. I was trying to make you jealous, so you would act on it. And you didn’t, so I left,” you explain when he only stares at you, confusion clear in his features.

But when he processes your words, he only lets out a little: “Oh.”

And you have enough of his bullshit.

“Ugh you are so fucking stupid,” and that’s all you tell him before your hands are grabbing his long hair and pulling him to you, your mouths crashing as you devour his mouth as you have wanted for so long. “You are going to pay for every single touch I missed,” you tell him between kisses and bites.

He whines, whispering: “Yes, yes. Anything you want… mate.”

And then he kisses you again.

[satin-velvet]

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒲𝒾𝓏𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝓍 𝐹!𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇 ( 𝒫𝒶𝓇𝓉 2 ) .ೃ࿐ Pt. 1

summary: You finally meet oz, the great and terrible, but can he grant your heart’s desire? ׂׂ

disclaimers: suggestive themes, minor flirting !!

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

“And what..is your hearts desire?”

You took a deep breath. You couldn’t falter now, no. You’d come so far. Raising your head, you looked right at the golden, metal head.

“You, ah.. great and terrible wizard.” You chuckled nervously.

“Me what?” It replied. It was a bit nerve-wracking to clarify, but you supposed the request wasn’t exactly.. common.

“What i mean is, you’re.. ah.. my hearts desire.” You gestured vaguely with your hand, gaze searching around as if a cue card would appear from the fog. “My wish, if you will.”

The silence that followed was almost deafening, and for a few moments, you regretted ever setting out to the palace at all. This was a mistake. Perhaps the wizard would send you out, or thrown in jail.. you put a hand over your chest as your eyes widened, the different scenarios running through your mind. Then, the head began to slump, it’s eyes losing it’s golden glow as the layered parts shifted. Lights among the streamers lit up suddenly. You guessed the head was.. powering down. The shadows engulfed it once again.

“I, uh, apologize. I must’ve misheard you.” A voice from behind the streamers rang out, and you looked in it’s direction. It sounded alot more.. human, which was reassuring in it’s own way. Gently moving the streamers aside, was a man, dressed in green. But the attire wasn’t very surprising.. it was the emerald city, after all.

“Great and terr.. powerful.. wizard.” You stammered, casting your gaze downwards. The fog that had been clouding the ground was starting to dissipate. His shoes clicked against the tile as he approached.

“You seem nervous. I.. didn’t mean to scare you with all.. that.” He gestured behind him to the unmoving metal head, a small chuckle punctuating his sentence. You weren’t sure if you could look at him, or were supposed to at all.

“Thats alright.” You replied, unsure of what else to say.

“I wasn’t expecting visitors today, but expect the unexpected, no?” He said, stopping in-front of you. “I don’t believe i got your name.” Gently tilting your chin up with his index finger, you met his gaze.

“Ah..” it felt you like had forgot your name, and everything about you. He had grey hair that was fading into white, immaculately coiffed and curled, a matching mustache and goatee to go with it. “It’s [name].”

“Well, it’s great to meet you. so, so great..” he smiled, lighting adjusting the sleeves on his suit. “Now, about your hearts desire.. most people come in here asking for wealth and prosperity.” He waved his hand dismissively, “that’s.. simple enough, really, but you..” he looked you up and down, “nobody’s ever asked for me, I don’t think.”

“Oh, no?” You laughed, a little awkwardly, “I understand if you, uh, can’t grant it. i don’t know if your magic can grant it in the way i’m thinking.”

He paused, “my magic? oh, you know, magic is overvalued, don’t you think?” He said, looking at you expectantly.

“I.. guess.” You hesitated before nodding, “very overvalued. who needs it, really?” You forced a laugh, trying not to sound too unnatural. “So, no wish?” You sounded a little more disappointed than you realized once the words came out.

“I’ll do you one better.” He leaned in slightly, “you can spend the rest of the day with me. hold your applause.” He held a hand up, silencing whatever noise he assumed you were going to make. “I’m here by myself most of the time, so theres no harm in having a temporary.. uh.. assistant.”

You pondered for a moment. That sounded.. fine, maybe more interesting than him casting a spell. There wasn’t many people in oz that could say they spent the latter half of the afternoon with the great and powerful wizard.

“Okay then,” you nodded, “let’s spend the afternoon together.”

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ part 3 soon! 💐

[maxdreavus]

Falling Away With You | Ch. 52*

Sebastian x F!Reader and M. Rasmodius x F!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: Spirit’s Eve shenanigans interlude - Sebastian WRECKS ya lol

Author’s Note: Got this one out WAY earlier than anticipated. My brainrot is too powerful..

Table of Contents + Work Summary

Check it out on ao3!

Prev | Next

When I return to Seb’s, Robin’s at the counter, unlike earlier. Looks like she’s doing some sorta till-counting or something, given how she’s hunched near the open register and vigorously scribbling into a notepad. 

She’s in her costume while she does it. Considering it’s a crappy, plasticky getup from a chain store, she makes a hot Morticia Addams, god damn Robin!

“Getting some last minute work in?” I ask, taking my usual stance with my elbows upon the opposite side of the wood.

“Something like that,” she murmurs. Sounds stressed.

“Well… you look great, at least!”

She huffs out a bitter laugh, then says under her breath, “Oh yeah? Tell that to my husband.” 

Oooh, is that why she’s moody? I’ll kick his ass! I’ll fuck him up!

…No I won’t. 

But still, what the fuck?

A little taken aback, and unsure if it’s my place to say anything bad about that dipshit to her, I opt to offer support. “Whoa, everything okay?”

She still hasn’t met my eyes, but she does roll hers. “That di—“ She stops herself. “He—“ She takes a deep breath, her lids shutting. Looks like she’s trying to regroup.

“…You can totally call him a dick, if that’s what you were gonna do,” I offer, resting my chin on my knuckles.

Robin laughs a little more genuinely this time. “Eh. Feels weird to complain to my son’s girlfriend about my marital issues.” She looks up at me, her eyes a little glazed over, before they widen. She blinks and raises her brows, taken aback by my appearance. “Oh. Oh wow!” Then, she leans in and whispers, “You did this with magic?!”

Beaming, I nod. 

“That’s amazing! You’re kind of like one of those characters from those games Sebby plays.”

“I had to get inspiration somewhere,” I quip with some finger guns. 

“Dork.”

“You love me though.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” she reluctantly agrees, scruffing my hair. 

I scowl, and then as I fix it, I jump back to the previous topic. “You know, you can talk to me about anything. If you want.” This time I rest the heel of my palm against my chin. “As a friend, not just as your son’s girlfriend, or a customer, or whatever.”

After inspecting me for a moment, Robin smiles. “I’m glad Sebastian fell in love with such a sweetheart, y’know that?”

I’m cheesing hard, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside, but I feign anger anyway. “What’d I just say? I’m your friend right now! Forget that guy!”

She barks out a laugh and throws her palms up in defeat. She fixes some hair from her wig out of her face as she goes on, zoned out on the desk between us, “I’m… ugh.” Another sigh. “Demetrius is just upset that I don’t want him locked in that lab tonight. God forbid he spends some time with his family during a holiday.” 

She pauses, looks at me again, and her eyes are threatening to tear up. I can’t help the way my own mouth melts downward as she quickly darts her view away from me.

“He couldn’t care less about our costumes.” 

The woman sniffs and tries to hide her face. I scurry around to the other side of the counter — she looks like she could use a hug. When I silently open my arms she laughs wetly and accepts. 

Over my shoulder, she murmurs, “I just thought it could be fun to match, ya know? To act like a happy married couple, for a change. It’s like he doesn’t even want to be around me outside of our Friday saloon dates though.”

I’m not really sure what to say. My heart is telling me to shout “Dump his ass!!!” but I know that would be inappropriate.

I wind up trying to lighten the situation in lieu of consolation. “Y’wanna know what I think?” I ask, pulling away and clapping my hands over her shoulders.

“Please, share your wisdom, wise wizard.”

I giggle at that. Then, still smiling, “He’s a real dickhead.”

“(Y/n)!” Robin exclaims, albeit through her own giggles. She weakly swats at me.

“He is! The more I hear about him, the more I think he deserves a nice ol’,” and I pull back some more, punching at the air, with my cheeks puffed and brows slanted downward. 

Still laughing, she leans on the surface next to her. “Simmer down, Rocky,” she tells me, resting her temple on her palm.

I join her in leaning on the counter again. “Okay, in all seriousness, though... You deserve to be happy. Whether he wants to play along for the night or not.” After a quiet beat, I add “…What if I’m Gomez?”

Robin shoots me an amused, incredulous look. “What?”

“If Demetrius won’t be your Gomez then I will!” I declare with a nod. “Just bring the mustache with you later, if he won’t wear it. I’ll gladly slap it on.”

She shakes her head. The way her grin hasn’t left her face makes me smile right back. 

God. Seb really does have her smile. It warms my heart a ton to see it from the source.

“C’mere, you little weirdo.” 

Robin pulls me back into another hug. Still feeling silly, I tell her that I’m serious. I am, I’ll do it! She promptly and playfully pushes me off her. 

“Alright, get outta here.”

“Think about it!” I advise, tapping my head as I walk away.

“Oh my god.”

Well.

There we go!

I think I helped..?

I hope I helped. 

Robin’s usually so strong, and independent, and full of sass and kindness and goofiness all in one package. It’s hard seeing someone I look up to so much so… broken. Especially over some dumb asshole like Demetrius.

I softly rap on Seb’s door, then enter without an answer, assuming he’s still asleep. And he is — there are soft snores coming from a mound of blankets on his bed.

I pad over to him and sit down, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

I get real close and whisper, “Time to get up, baby,” near his ear. 

He shifts a little and sighs. His eyes open. They stay squinty as he blinks the sleep away. 

Oh. That was easy. “I thought there would be more protest than this.”

Seb sniffs and stretches, rolling his neck a bit. It pops, and he follows with rolling his shoulders too, which also pop. 

“The way y’whispered at me was so hot,” he explains. I ignore the flip my stomach does hearing him say that with his groggy rasp. “Got me right up.”

Is he bonin’ out already? “Figuratively or..?”

He turns to face me finally, a shitty little grin pairing an eyebrow waggle. It quickly morphs into a gleaming smile though, his eyes darkening above it as he takes in my disguise for the day. “Oh you’re fuckin’ kidding me.”

I chew the bottom half of my smile as my face warms right up. “Still a fan?”

He scoffs, “‘Still a fan,’” mirroring my words back at me while he tugs me into his lap. I squeak, not expecting this energy from Seb right now, but he quickly muffles it with a heated kiss. 

His fingers dig into my hips before he brings his hands up to cup my face. “Of course I’m still a fan,” he breathes between kisses, “you have no idea.”

I grin into his lips, pulling away just enough to murmur, “I think I have a little bit of an idea.” As I speak, I roll my hips, effectively trailing my clothed slit against his erection. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he groans, flipping us so that he’s on top of me, slotted between my legs. 

One of his hands is grounded on the pillow by my head; the other is plastered to my cheek as if it’ll fall off otherwise. In the meantime, I wrap my legs around his waist, heady exhales escaping through my nose as he grinds himself against me. I try to match his energy, tangling my fingers through his hair while I tug his face closer to mine. 

“What time was it when you got down here?” 

“Dunno, I—“ he lightly thrusts again, cutting me off as I curse against his lips, “Fuck.” I grin into a kiss and then continue, doing my best to ignore his active lower half, “Last I checked,” another kiss, “it was 7ish,” another, “Probably got here like 15 minutes ago.” Another kiss, and another roll, prompting us to moan against each other. “Maybe 20,” I breathe. 

“Damn it.” Seb presses his forehead to mine, his eyes shut. “How about this?” he states more than asks.

“Hm?”

“I’m gonna take a quick shower.”

“Mhm,” I have to hum, because he paused to kiss me again.

“Then I’ll get ready, y’know, do my hair and all that.”

Kiss. 

“‘Kay.”

Kiss.

“And then,” he pauses for another kiss while his fingertips drag to the side of my neck. His thumb trails my jaw and finds residence on my chin, its tip touching the underside of my bottom lip, in the meantime. “I’m gonna make you cum all over my cock,” kiss, “alright?”

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.

I nod. 

Kiss.

“Sound good?”

“Yeah,” I practically moan.

 Kiss.

“Yeah? You’d like that?”

I nod, kissing his smug grin. 

He reciprocates the action, and then tugs my chin down to give himself entry. I whine at the gesture while his tongue twirls around my own. 

…And then he pulls away, gives me an all too friendly smile and pat on the cheek, and gets up, sauntering to the bathroom.

I can’t help but laugh. 

_______________

Seb did his hair straight out of the shower — it’s no different than usual — but came out for help with makeup. 

“Honestly, I thought you were half-sleeping when I suggested this,” I mutter while giving him the best smokey eye I can manage with red and black. 

It’s hard working with eyes that aren’t my own. Also hard not to overdo it. Something about eyeshadow just makes me wanna keep coloring everything in…

“I was,” he confirms. “Only half, though.” 

From my seat atop him, I lean over to put the eyeshadow down and grab his liner stick. It’s hard not to feel a little restless in this position. Dude’s in nothing but boxer briefs. Didn’t want to risk smudging anything onto his white shirt, and didn’t feel like getting into dress pants just yet. Every little movement is like a taste of what’s to come after this, if he’s still up for it. 

Yoba, I hope he’s up for it.

Instrument in hand, I tilt his head gently by the chin for a better view. He closes his eyes before I have to ask, so I move my non-dominant hand to his cheek and get to work carefully lining a lid. 

“Didn’t you say when we first met that you used to wear eyeliner?”

He grins, and I have to pause so as to not smudge anything too badly. When he feels that I stopped, he opens his eyes. Those deep blueish irises have an extra sparkle to them. His cheeks heat up a little too, and I can see hints of a blush growing on them. 

“Yeah, I’m a bit rusty— wait, you actually remember that?”

I pull a face. “‘Course I do,” I respond, before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “You made that night fun… made me feel safe and welcome after having to endure that thorough grilling from Abby.” I blush as I tack on, at the risk of being a sap, “It’s a really special memory for me.”

Barely containing his pearly whites, he goes on, “She went in on you.”

He shuts his eyes for me again after seeing that I’ve returned my focus to his makeup. I begin working on the other one, satisfied with my work on the first after a quick swipe just beneath his waterline. 

“I’d probably have cried if it weren’t for all the beer.”

“Imagine,” he huffs out a laugh. “All the moms probably wouldn’t shut up about you.”

I toss Seb’s pencil aside and get to work smudging it with my fingertip a bit. Looks too neat. “Y’hear about that new girl?” I jest in something akin to Jodi’s cadence. “Sensitive thing, she is. She won’t last a day on that farm.” I pull back a bit and take Seb’s face in my hands, inspecting my work on his eyes while we laugh. 

“Oh, and don’t even get me started on that little skirt she was wearing,” he plays along. 

“Ha!” I break. “That skirt isn’t that little.” 

“It’s little enough that it had me thinking.”

“Thinking?” I tilt my head.

He winks. “Thinking.” 

Oh! My heart flutters because of course it does. I nuzzle my forehead against his and squeeze my eyes shut to stim away the fluster; he giggles, and then, simmering down, I ask, “You want some mascara?”

“Maybe a bit on the bottom row.”

“Oh, you’re gonna look downright slutty.”

“I’m not hearing a problem with that.”

“Neither am I,” I quip, being careful not to make them too tidy. Gotta make sure to clump some lashes up more than others too…

That should do it.

I lean back to scan his face again. “Lipstick?”

“Maybe some black on the top lip? And some red… somewhere near my mouth, I dunno. Fake blood and all that.”

I nod, but lean in for a kiss instead of doing it. He happily reciprocates. “Not yet,” I purr against him. “You have a promise to fulfill.”

He grins, wide and catlike, and hungrily chases my lips. “Don’t wanna sloppy it up?”

“And let my hard work go to waste?” I tease. My voice comes out airy, and my breath quickens as he pulls my chest to his.

“But maybe I like it sloppy.”

Ignoring the implications, I subtly roast, “Bold words for someone who didn’t wanna dirty his shirt.”

“Oh shut up,” he laughs before smashing his mouth to mine again. Pulls away, gnaws his lower lip... “I have an idea, actually.”

“Hm?”

He picks up some red lipstick and hands it to me. I tilt my head in question. 

“Slap it on me.”

I snort. “Where are you going with this?” I ask while I follow his instruction. 

As soon as I’m done, he pulls me in for more kisses. Sloppy kisses. The kind that can make me moan, whether it’s from being flustered, or from the kisses themselves — and they do. 

Seb smiles against me before kissing me some more. Then, he pulls away. He laughs at the resulting makeup on my face. 

“Oh, you look adorable.”

“How bad is it?” I ask, bringing a finger to my mouth. 

When I pull the digit away it has a red tinge to it; hard to gauge how dark it would actually look on my face until I see it, with my skin being pink in my disguise, and this room so dim.

“You tell me,” he asks, more about himself. He does a quick mouth wiggle while puckering. 

“You’re looking pretty wrecked.”

“Pretty bloody?” 

“Ooo, nice!” I beam.

“Can never tell me I’m not clever again.”

Laughing, I flick his nose. He reaches for a bite on my finger and I let him have it. “Never said you weren’t.”

“Damn right.” He pulls me back in, kissing me with a fervor I haven’t felt from him in a hot minute.

I wonder if it’s my… elfliness (sure, that’s a word). It’s gotta be that.

I’m not complaining.

With our lips locked, he begins lifting off my shirt, and I work on my pants in turn. There’s a few rows of buttons on ‘em but I get through it eventually. 

Once my mouth is free, I think aloud, “I wonder what color my nips are, if my skin is already pink.” 

I pause my work on my pants while he unclasps my bra. “Only one way to find out.” As it falls, we both laugh. “Fucking purple?”

“Hey, I think it works!” I lift my breast for closer inspection. It’s funny seeing a mauvy lavender there, as opposed to its usual color. It compliments my skin nicely though!

Next thing I know, I’m swallowing a hum as a result of Seb latching onto the same boob I’d been holding. He grabs my nipple between his teeth and lightly pulls away, making me whine. “It does work,” he agrees. Then, he delves into the other.

After a brief moment, he removes himself. “Pants off.”

I mumble, “Bossy...”

I stand up and do it anyway, though. I get rid of my panties too while I’m at it. Not like I’ll need them for this. 

“Don’t pretend you don’t love being bossed around, y’little gremlin.”

He flips me around and pulls me back into his lap, but facing away from him now; nudges my legs open with his knees; and then, while planting wet kisses to my neck and shoulder, he drags a finger through my folds in a long, languid stroke. I don’t even have time to argue back. 

I moan, rolling my head rest on Sebby’s shoulder behind me. Drinking in the feeling of his warm lips and breath on my skin, I arch instinctively while he creeps closer to my entrance. The hand that had been holding my hip wraps around my midsection in response, keeping me from moving too much, but not stopping me either.

“Jeez. So wet already,” he lilts. 

“Yeah, well…” I trail off, not in the mindset to say anything clever back. I’m too foggy with want for that.

Seb seems to be having fun taking his damn time with me. He circles the opening, not quite giving me the satisfaction of entry, but still making me feel something. I squirm, antsy as he devolves me into a needy (well— need ier ), panting mess. 

“Something wrong, love?” he mutters against my ear before lightly nipping at its pointy tip.

Smartass.

“N-no, nothing,” I lie. 

“Good,” he teases, “almost thought you were dissatisfied for a sec there.”

Damnit. I mean, I’m not, fucking obviously, but if he’d just go in…

I sigh, but it comes out as a huff, and turns into a whimper. My dominant arm has been raised, its hand toying with Sebastian’s hair this whole time. The other, which had been gripping the arm Seb’s holding me in place with, is now on its way to his active hand, in an attempt to urge him inside me.

As soon as my hand makes contact with his wrist, he retracts his fingers to the lower portion of my folds again. 

He warns lowly, “Keep that hand to yourself.”

Oh he has no business being this hot, god damnit dude.

I heed his words with an embarrassing squeak, draping my arm across my tummy, just below his. His grip with that one tightens as he gets back to work drawing circles and stars around the rim of my cunt.

“Ahh— fuck,” I whimper, my hips moving on their own volition, “please.”

He softly asks, his lips against my earlobe, “What do you want?”

“Please,” I pause to moan as he barely — just barely — dips inside me, planting a kiss to my cheek just in front of my ear. “Need you.”

“You already have me, silly. Gotta be more specific than that.” 

He peppers kisses around my neck while I struggle to find words to respond with. Just when I feel his tongue licking a strip across it, his thumb rests itself on my clit, unmoving.

My thighs tense and I squeeze the forearm that’s above my own, subconsciously tugging his hair a little too. “God.”

“Tell me,” he kisses my neck again, “tell me what you want from me, (y/n).” 

“Fuck, I want you.” I urge, “I need you inside me, please— oh shit,” my body twitches as he slightly begins to wriggle his thumb. He’s still not fingerbanging me yet, the audacity, but this still feels fucking good. “God, please, Seb.”

“Still need more details.” Oh my fucking— he’s trying to kill me. He wants me dead. “What part of me do you want inside you?”

Anything, frankly. “Y-your fingers,” I stutter instead, shuddering as he presses my bud a little harder. 

“Yeah?”

I mewl, “Yeah.” He grants my wish, but not enough. Slides his ring and middle fingers maybe an inch in, at most. I could fucking cry. “Ff— god damnit.”

“I thought you wanted this?”

I’ll fucking kill you bro— “Deeper,” I breathe, ignoring how desperate I sound; how tantalizingly he’s wiggling his digits. 

“This better?” he asks smoothly, and begins to pump the full length of his fingers in and out of me.

My head lolls back and tears fall from my eyes in relief. He moves absurdly slow as he begins to curl the pads of his fingers against me, but it’s better than everything else he’s done to cause me to crumble like this. “Fuck, yes~”

He removes his arm from my belly and turns my head to him. Without moving my lower body, I twist so that I can comply better, resting a palm beside us on the mattress. My other reaches for his face while I try to kiss him — and he gets close, but ultimately doesn’t budge. 

I chase his lips, humming through the pleasure, then groaning when he doesn’t work with me. He smiles knowingly. 

I deadpan, “Oh my fucking god.” Or, at least I do to the best of my ability while he’s got knuckles buried in me.

“You want more?”

“Please,” I nod. My forehead is against his as I shut my eyes, subtly shifting myself down so that he’ll go deeper. He responds in kind, pumping and curling against the perfect spot. “Ah!”

“Better?” 

I nod again. Try for another kiss. He doesn’t let me again. Ugh. “Please, please,” I whisper. Comes out embarrassingly needy. 

As if all my other pleas haven’t been.

“What else do you want?”

My eyes don’t leave his lips. They look destroyed, between the natural plumpness of us having kissed so much, and the lipstick that’s smeared around them.

It’s so hot.

“Kiss me, please kiss me.”

He leans in… and pecks the corner of my mouth. 

I grunt between my teeth. “Please just fucking kiss me, oh my g—“ Smiling, Sebastian shuts me up with an actual kiss.

He pokes fun at me after, “So easy…” 

“Shut up— fuck, more.”

“Like this?” he asks, speeding up his digits’ pace as he kisses me again, our tongues tangling together while he swallows my moans. 

I nod, but then I realize we’re running out of time. As good as this is — and holy fucking moly it’s amazing, I actually adore when he’s a devious little shit like this — I need him to just screw me senseless so I can recouperate before having to go face the entire town and whoever else shows up. 

I gasp out of the kiss, “Fuck me.”

“Aw,” he tuts, “this isn’t good enough?”

“Sh— ah, shut up!” 

He laughs. “You want me to stop this then?” 

Well… No…

But I nod. 

“Please, fuck, I wanna cum with you, not like this.” 

God, I sound pathetic. But this is urgent. I’m getting so close. 

His smile widens. I finally meet his eyes, after having stared at the lower half of his face for so long. His pupils are blown wide — practically to the rims of his irises. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm.” I can feel myself tightening. I’m doing my best to stave it off, but… “Fuck, I’m gonna cum if you keep doing this.”

“You think you can cum twice for me then?” 

“Shit.” Don’t have to twist my arm. “‘Kay.”

“Yeah? You want that?”

I nod eagerly. Desperately.

He gets close enough that our lips are pressing together a bit, but he doesn’t kiss me. “Then cum.” Oh my god. “Cum on my fingers, baby,” fucking hell, “let me feel your tight pussy cumming onto my hand.”

Oh my fucking god.

A soundless cry escapes me and I nod, promptly delivering. “Seb, shit, I’m cumming, I’m cumming,“ I desperately babble, my release hitting me like a train. I close my eyes and lean onto his shoulder, initially clamping a hand over my mouth to quiet myself. Seb maneuvers me into a kiss instead.

When he’s finished me off, Seb removes his fingers from my cunt and brings the afflicted hand close to our jaws. He backs away from our kiss with just enough space to slide his wet digits between our faces; to hold them just in front of my mouth, waiting patiently but expectantly.

Beguiled beyond belief, I don’t let my gaze waver from his as I wrap my lips around his fingers. I suck myself off of him, teasing him with my tongue as I do, and then seal the action with another kiss, all but leading in with my tongue. 

He groans at the taste. It’s all he needed to give up any bit of restraint he had before.

“Fuck. Grab onto me,” he softly orders. 

I wrap my arms around his shoulders, and he flips me onto my back, sliding his underwear off in tandem. He promptly dips just his head inside me, and proceeds to use a combination of my folds and his fingers to spread my fluids onto himself, getting his dick lubed up.

I shiver at the sensation, but only for a few seconds before he inches his length inside me. 

“Oh, shit.” We literally moan the words in unison. Makes us both break from our trances. 

“Oh no.“

“I dunno how I felt about that.”

“Hated it, personally.” I admit, though, “…But also it was kinda hot?”

Gnawing his lower lip, Seb nods in agreement. 

We’re both still giggling about the occurrence when he resumes the activity, harshly thrusting into me. Morphing my laughter into a happy lil’ moan. 

“Fuck, you always feel so good.” Seb lowers himself a bit, dropping my legs in favor of holding my face in one hand and gripping the sheets in the other. “So fucking perfect.”

I feel my belly do a flip at his words while I drink in his praise, committing to memory the way he’s looking at me as if I’m the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. I reach my hands to the sides of his neck and tug lightly in hopes he’ll come down for a kiss. Instead, he settles above me, hovering his lips right in front of mine. 

I see that’s his theme for today. Jackass…

I moan into his mouth while he pants into mine. Our gazes haven’t faltered from each other’s; the eye contact is making me feel shy, but I can’t look away.

“Fuck,” I mewl after a harsher thrust, “do that again?”

“This?” Seb repeats the action, and I nod, feeling my eyelids flutter. I don’t dare to shut them though. “You like that?”

“I love it,” I nod, “I love you,” I pause to swallow a cry, worried about the volume, before repeating, “I love you so much, you’re so fucking good.”

“Me, or my dick?” he pokes back. His face looks extra cocky, too.

I laugh, rolling my eyes. “Both, fuck I love your cock.”

“Oh, holy fuck,” he half-moans, half-laughs. Not the first time I’ve said that, glad it still affects him. He rolls his eyes shut and presses his forehead to mine. “How much, princess?” he asks as he opens them again, his fiery stare boring into mine.

The nickname surges through me, making my skin prickle with goosebumps. “So much, you’re—“

I promptly zip it and slap a palm over my mouth as someone knocks on the door. Sebastian puts one of his over the back of my hand for good measure. 

Shit. 

“Sebby?” Robin’s voice calls through. “We’re just about ready to go.”

Shit!

He hasn’t stopped thrusting. Just slowed down. I grip his wrist with my free hand and squeeze — a safety measure to make sure I really won’t make noise and fuck this up for everyone, because Yoba above it’s hard not to.

Hopefully she hasn’t heard it up to this point… “We’ll be ready in a few minutes,” he says back, “Just finishing up my costume.”

“Gotcha, gotcha. Need any help?”

“No,” he answers all too quickly. He recoups, “No, it’s fine, (y/n)’s got me covered. We’ll meet you guys outside.”

“Alrighty, try to hurry up. We’re already running a little late.”

He answers while simultaneously placing a sneaky finger to my clit, “You got it, Ma.”

Oh my god. I shut my eyes and try to breathe steady, listening to her footsteps fade away. It’s hard to be this quiet with this much stimulation.

Seb’s vision is still angled towards the door while he waits too. When it returns to me — when he sees my eyes, specifically, and how filled with want they probably look — he whispers out a half curse, stopping himself so he can keep listening.

As soon as we hear the front door upstairs shut, he removes both our hands from my mouth and kisses me. 

“You close?” he whispers.

I shrug. “Might need some encouragement.”

“Yeah? You need me to tell you when to cum?”

Oh, that’s definitely encouraging. God he’s so hot.

“Mhm,” I hum. “Just tell me what to do.”

He smiles. It almost looks a bit sinister… damn, and he called me a freak. Seb straightens his back, tugging me closer by the thighs before pumping into me with more force. “Let me see you touch yourself.”

Oh.

I release one of my fists from its recent death grip on his sheets and place two fingers against my folds, trying to strum to the rhythm of his hips. 

“There you go,” he praises, leaning down with a straight arm supporting himself. The other cups my cheek, its thumb playing with my lips. “Help me out,” he murmurs, “get yourself real close for me.” I whine at his words, and my pussy clenches around him. He laughs, but it isn’t smug or demeaning. Just smitten. “That’s it, baby. Juuust like that.”

Fuck, this is working out flawlessly. 

“I’m close,” I tell him, my voice barely even there, “m’gonna cum.”

“Atta girl.” I feel him twitch inside me. “Fuck. You wanna cum together, yeah?”

I nod, subtly speeding up my fingers. 

“Come on then, (y/n), cum with me. Keep those pretty eyes on me and cum.” 

Seb’s kind enough to give me a bit of a head start. Just as I start to crumble, I feel him joining me, nearly pressing his forehead against my own. His eyes roll shut for a moment before locking back onto mine below thick, upturned eyebrows. 

“Shit, that’s my good girl,” he smiles through his own pleasure.  

“Holy fuck,” I breathe, shakey and winded.

He soothes me through to the end, “That’s it, baby, nice and easy.” 

I swear to god he’s so good at that; at just flipping a switch, and suddenly knowing exactly what to say and do. That alone should be its own weird subgenre of wizardry. 

I shut my weary eyes, and for a few beats we just stay where we are, huffing each other’s air. When I open my eyes, I notice a hint of determination in Seb’s.

Right.

We’ve gotta get cleaned up and finish his look. Fast .

[tech-whale]

A Break in Routine

Pairing: Prince!Regulus x Guard!Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings:  Maybe a little angst, grouch Regulus, attempted murder??? 

Cross posted on AO3

Author notes: Definitely going to be a part 2 just need to write it this has been chilling for like  a year and I want to post it so surprise it's here, have fun, also just a little FYI reader comes in later the beginning is a lot of Regulus but reader shows up I promise, the next part will be all about them, sorry enjoy

I do not give permission to people republishing, printing, copying, reposting or stealing my stories

✧☽☀☾✧☽☀☾✧☽☀☾✧☽☀☾✧☽☀☾✧☽☀☾✧☽☀☾✧☽☀☾✧

Regulus POV

Regulus' world had always been the same monotonous routine. It consisted of exquisite food, and boring repetitive lectures on economics, trade, and war tactics, with each of his teachers more boring than the last with their long-winded speeches that could put anyone to sleep in a matter of minutes.

Before all that, Regulus used to enjoy his days when he could sneak off from boring teachers and sit in the garden sketching and painting to his heart's desire. He missed when he got to go for a carefree ride on his horse and did not learn about the best way to ambush an enemy when in a mountain pass. But the thing that Regulus missed most of all was his older brother Sirius.

Three years ago Sirius had escaped into the night never to be seen again leaving Regulus the sole heir to their parents' kingdom. Regulus missed the days when he had no responsibility but h3 missed his brother more, Sirius was one of the only people that could bring colour into Regulus' bland world. The pranks the two would pull on unsuspecting castle staff, although the tricks were never too cruel the staff had enough to deal with when their parents were there. And as much as Regulus wanted to resent Sirius for leaving him all alone with their parent he just couldn't, he knew that Sirius needed to leave he just wished he could've gone with him.

Regulus believed he would be stuck in a repeating cycle of boredom for the rest of his life and he truly didn't believe that anything or anyone could change the outcome of his life. His parents would marry him off to some princess or the daughter of a lord for something political he wouldn't care to understand, and when he came of age he would be crowned king and his wife the queen. That was how Regulus thought his life would go with his whole future planned for him with no say in the matter. Regulus truly believed that until an assassination attempt on his life ended with a plot to uproot Black's house from the Kingdom's monarchy.

That day had been relatively typical for Regulus and when he said normal he meant utterly boring beyond belief, so if that morning you had told him that someone would try to kill him within the next twenty fours hours he would have laughed in your face and told you to have them do it right now. Although the more Regulus thinks back on that day and the events that had occurred which seemed completely coincidental at the time he begins to remember the sinking feeling of dread he had when he walked into his bed-chamber the collar of his shirt sticking to the back of his neck from the water droplets falling from his hair.

Regulus felt utterly comfortable in very few places within the castle, he hated the stares that curious staff would send the quiet heir of the Black family. Regulus often enjoyed leaving the suffocating walls of the palace and enjoying the well-kept gardens that surrounded it, even though his parents didn't particularly care for the botany aspect of the castle they still had people tend to it. Regulus didn't enjoy being inside the palace too much. It was too suffocating for his liking, but Regulus did feel comfortable in his room, the castle staff never came in when he was in there and the view of the gardens from his balcony always helped to inspire him for new pieces of artwork.

But that moment when he first stepped into his room something felt wrong as if somebody had come into his room and shifted all the furniture an inch from where it had been sitting, quickly scanning over the room Regulus went to the stone fireplace and picked up one of the heavier tools that had been sitting beside it. Holding the tool to his side Regulus began to do a thorough search of his room before he jolted back upright from a knock on the door.

Opening the door to a servant carrying a bundle of firewood, stepping out of the doorway the servant looked at Regulus curiously as he held the fire tool in his hand. Realizing what he was still holding he returned it to its place before excusing himself from the room and going into his balcony. The breeze lightly ruffled the fabric of Regulus' shirt from where it hung loose on his body, he pushed some of the lighter strands of hair behind his ear and out of his face as he walked over to the stone railing on the edge of the balcony.

Leaning against the railing Regulus waited till the fire had been lit properly and the servant had left his room. Making his way back into his bed-chamber the feeling of dread fell over him again. Regulus decided to shrug off the feeling as before when he searched for what was causing the feeling to find nothing. Slipping into his bed Regulus was instantly comforted by the weight of the blankets covering him, the silky water-like feel of the sheets that surrounded his body lulled him into a tired state, the crackling of the fire created a warm atmosphere, and the breeze that fluttered his curtains made the perfect sleeping conditions that very rarely came along.

Regulus could feel his eyelids starting to become heavy, much too heavy for him to be able to keep open, so instead of fighting it, Regulus succumbed to his need to sleep.

Regulus felt the cool breeze of the night tickle the back of his neck as he awoke, Regulus looked around his room as he waited for his eyes to adjust. Looking over to his balcony doors Regulus shot up from his previous position as he realized that the doors were open, he remembered that he had locked the balcony.

Pushing the covers off himself Regulus made his way to his balcony to lock the door, the feeling of a cold pointed tip pressed into the middle of Regulus' back.

"Don't move and your death could be quick." The intruder spoke, pushing the blade into Regulus' back. Panic flooded through his veins as he tried to figure out how to get out of this situation. Regulus was pulled away from the balcony and into the middle of the room, facing the fireplace in the center of the room Regulus looked upon the red embers of the dead fire and hoped that that would not be the last thing he saw. He wanted to see his brother again, feel the freedom he once had, fall in love and right then it felt as though all those things that Regulus longed for were going to be ripped away from him in some attempt on his life for something that was out of his power.

Loud footsteps were heard outside of Regulus’ door, and the pressure of the knife pressed against his back alleviated for a second as the assassin took some of their attention off of Regulus to monitor the door in those few seconds Regulus found bravery and a fire inside himself that he had never known before, lunging forward out of the grip of his attacker Regulus grabbed on of the heavy metal pokers from the face of the fireplace and swung around slamming it into the side of the assassins head, rushing away from the fireplace Regulus ripped open the door and ran out of his room.

Feet hitting the plush carpet underfoot Regulus pushed himself as much as he could as he searched the hallways for a guard there had to be one near him he had just heard footsteps, turning his head to the side Regulus crashed into something and collapsed into a heap on the floor at the impact of the hit. Looking up Regulus was met with the concerned face of a royal guard, pushing himself up Regulus started to explain what had happened quickly the guard yelled to the others behind him two of them followed him as they went in the direction of Regulus’ chamber three surrounded Regulus and ushered him down the hallway and one disappeared down the hallway to the guard station presumably to to get reinforcements to check on his room and to make sure the King and Queen were still alive. At that thought, Regulus decided it would be best to shut his mind off and follow the guards so that was what he did.

The next few days for Regulus seemed to all blur together, he went through his lessons barely listening to his tutors and mindlessly taking notes on what they said not to get lectured about paying attention, even though he had almost died days prior. Regulus was now forced into the throne room even more than he had been, as now investigators, royal guard, knights, and many others were coming to lend information on the assassin that had broken into his room, from what Regulus had heard the attacker was detained and locked away in one of the deepest parts of the dungeon, Regulus had been in that area once and he never wanted to have to see it again.

And now here he sat in the throne room once again reflecting on all that had happened to him to lead him up to this moment, it had been two weeks since the attempt on his life, and throughout those two weeks, he had been reminded that he should be grateful that it was an attempt and had not succeeded as if he had survived by some stroke of luck. Regulus was pulled out of his thoughts when the oak doors to the throne room were thrown open with a loud thud shaking the ground of the castle, earlier that evening the King and Queen had received word that new urgent information had been gained about the attack that could save the House of Black from utter inhalation at the hands of their enemies.

“Your Highnesses, we have found a source of information on the assassination attempt. It was not just a one-time thing, this was well planned out and has been in the works for years.” The man in front of the spoke, the final sentence he spoke with a much more serious tone Regulus could see his parents straighten up at it and the air around them became tenser. Nodding behind him, the guards opened the door, allowing two more guards to drag in a man. 

At first, Regulus could not recognize him, but the clothes he was wearing showed that he was of high standing within the kingdom. The top he wore looked like it was made of fine velvet, though the sleeves were caked in what looked to be dried mud, Regulus couldn't tell from where he was sitting, his pants although torn and bloodied looked to be of high quality, and the gold and jewels glinting off his fingers just confirmed Regulus’ suspicions of this man being of high standing within society, there would likely be an uproar from his arrest.

The man raised his head to meet the eyes of the royal family and Regulus reeled back in shock, from the expressions on his parents' faces he could tell that this was not what they were expecting. The man was someone Regulus recognized it was someone he knew, the man in front of them was a member of the royal court, one of the many lords that were meant to be in the throne room when decisions were being made and conflicts were being sorted out, this was a man Regulus had known since he was a young boy this man in question had found Regulus one day in the garden alone and wandering and offered him his ear. Though when that had happened Regulus had been six and this man in front of him couldn't have been any more than 15 at the time, oh how Regulus wished he could be a child again. Looking towards his parents he silently asked if he could be excused from this horrible turn of events, his parents luckily taking pity on him let him leave the grand room before they began their interrogation. 

The doors slammed shut behind Regulus but not even the thick oak of the doors could block out the shrill voice of his mother or the loud bellows of his father.

It had been a few days since that horrible afternoon and his parents had called him to discuss something with him. Entering his father's study he greeted his father with a respectful nod before he turned toward the other person in the room.

"Regulus this is (Insert Name), they will be watching over you to ensure there isn't another attempt on your life." His father spoke gesturing towards the other person in the room.

(Insert Name) was someone Regulus had seen before, they were a knight for the kingdom and had won many battles and had gained the respect of many in the kingdom. But not only was their reputation that of a knight their appearance was as well, they wore the usual chest plate of armour with the kingdom's emblem and arm guards, along with a green cape with silver accents. On their hip, they had their sword in a black sheath. They stood on guard and exuded the confidence all the other knights carried.

"I will protect his highness with my life sire." You respond to his father with a bow before turning to face Regulus and bowing to him. At that moment Regulus knew that the two of you would not get along.

The first few days of having you around were difficult for Regulus, he felt trapped, and you never left him alone. Even when he was going to sleep you would do a sweep of his room before he laid down, and you would come hourly to do another sweep of the room which had woken him up a couple of times. The overprotectiveness was annoying he couldn't deal with and his emotions were starting to boil over.

"You know you don't always have to wake me up to make sure I don't get killed, if your job is to look after me then you are doing a shit job," Regulus shouted after he was woken up for the second time that night.

"I'm sorry sir, but I need to make sure that you stay safe. It would be a deep regret if anything were to happen to you." You responded in a calm voice, this just angered him more.

"Ya because if anything were to happen to me, you would lose your oh-so-perfect reputation." Regulus lashed out at you, he hated this, he hated having a babysitter because of one incident he hated this, and all of this was bubbling up as anger and hatred towards you.

“Regulus, I understand that this arrangement is not ideal. But this is for your safety, I am only taking so many precautions so that you can stay safe. You can be angry at me all you want hell you can hate me, my job isn't to be loved by you it's to keep you safe, and I’m sorry that I have woken you up I will try to be quieter next time.” You spoke back to him just as calmly as you did before, leaving the room and leaving him in darkness with his thoughts. From that moment Regulus knew that maybe this wasn't just hard for him it was hard for you, you had to deal with his attitude and you were able to stay pretty calm, he knew that he was going to have to go easier on you or he might regret it.

From that day forward Regulus tried to be more patient, he engaged with you in more conversations and learned a great many things about you, one of those things being your love of horseback riding. So for today, Regulus decided that the two of you would enjoy the warm weather you were graced with and head out for a nice ride.

“It is unusual for you to ride your Highness, are you feeling quite alright?” You questioned once you had stopped to pause your ride.

“I happen to enjoy horseback riding very much, I just haven't had the time, or the clearance, to be able to go. But my schedule finally allowed it and I have you with me so what would stop me.” Regulus responded quickly, it came out much harsher than he intended and he internally cringed at the tone of voice he delivered his response in. but he lightened up on himself when he saw you smile at him.

“Nothing would stop you, your highness, you just look so at peace when you're out here, it's almost like your a different person.” You spoke out, moving your head down so that your hair shielded your face from his sight.

“We should continue on there are places I would like to go before I am needed back at the castle,” Regulus shouted out, breaking the calm mood that had formed between the two of you, galloping away he couldn't help the simile that stretched across his face as he heard you laugh from behind him.

“Of course your Highness I wouldn't want to make you late for your oh-so-important meeting with your mirror.” You quipped back at him, encouraging your horse to race ahead of him.

“Aren't you supposed to stay by my side and protect me,” Regulus shouted out from behind you.

“I would be able to if you could keep up.” You shouted back to him, turning around to look at the prince and send him an innocent smile as if you had never done anything out of protocol for a guard. But at that moment Regulus couldn't care less if you had breached protocol, you looked ethereal, with the way your face glowed from the sun hitting it through the trees highlighting all the beautiful colours hidden in your skin, to the creases by your eyes caused by a radiant smile, to Regulus at that moment you're a walking deity, a being born of starlight that was sent to earth to make it more beautiful.

You were so stunning tha-..... Regulus slowed his horse in an attempt not to fall off, he had just been hit in the face with a branch, or more accurately he had ridden into a branch because he was not focusing on anything but you. 

[thebowieconstricker]

"Should we come up with a name for the people who are in love with the Wizard?"

What about Wizomaniacs? Wizomania was the Emerald City performance about how great the Wizard is.

Maybe that term would technically be for people who are obsessed with the Wizomania show but I feel like they kinda go hand in hand. Looking forward to what others put out there.

ABSOLUTELY love this idea. Plus it works canonically because everyone’s just praising the Wizard that whole show. Wizomaniacs is #1 idea rn

[oceanicwriting]

hey, bro!

summary: where mattheo riddle is obsessed with his best friend sister, and for the first time, he can fuck her without protection and now he doesn't give a fuck about who knows what. not even his best friend.

pairing(s): non-wizard!mattheo riddle x non-wizard!fem!reader

a/n: i'm so sooooorry this took me a while to post... but here it is! i'm still doing my road trip and i have no idea when i'll be back, but i have some good ideas if you are patient with me hehe.

+18 smut, unprotected sex, missionary, praising, cursing

ㅤㅤㅤ —mattheo, —you moan as you feel his lips descend to the neckline of your shirt—. mattheo, wait.

ㅤㅤㅤ you thought he would ignore your voice because he easily lifts you up to sit on the counter, standing between your legs ready to receive him. although he continues to caress you with his large palms, he seems attentive to listen to what you have to say.

ㅤㅤㅤ —we can’t do this, —you whisper, looking him straight into his soft puppy brown eyes—. theodore could catch us, and we both know that would be fatal.

ㅤㅤㅤ —i can handle it, —he says, smiling and leaning in to kiss you again—. where does all this guilt come from, baby? i don't remember these words when we did it at my house, my car, the beach, the closet, the bathroom...

ㅤㅤㅤ you roll your eyes at his tone. funny but ironic.

ㅤㅤㅤ —get to the point.

ㅤㅤㅤ mattheo caresses your face with one of his hands, moving his thumb delicately over your cheekbone lit up red. his other hand travels to your back, where the neckline of the shirt allows him to feel your warm skin against the tip of his fingers. a shiver runs through your body, as weak as ever to his cold touch.

ㅤㅤㅤ —i don't think all the other times you cared so much. —you hated that his gaze enjoys so much seeing even the slightest reaction of your body to his presence—. theodore is drunk and, minutes ago, he went with my cousin to his room. why is that not illegal?

ㅤㅤㅤ you laugh, playing with the collar of his black t-shirt.

ㅤㅤㅤ —besides, it's my fault that his sister is so fucking hot? —he questions, letting out a soft laugh.

ㅤㅤㅤ you give him a punch on the shoulder as he tries to lean in to kiss you again. lately, he didn’t seem to care if theodore, your brother, found out about you two, and it was driving you a little crazy. mattheo growls at your action and raises his eyebrows in confusion.

ㅤㅤㅤ —not here. go to my room in five. —you jump off the furniture, pushing mattheo against the wall.

ㅤㅤㅤ —there’s my girl.

ㅤㅤㅤ mattheo riddle and theodore nott have been friends since they were five. when they met, after your family moved to his neighborhood, you had just turned three. over time, the brunette became a constant figure at home. now the two great friends shared an apartment near the university in the busy streets of london.

ㅤㅤㅤ your story with mattheo is somewhat different. sure, you knew each other since you were little, but theodore became an overprotective brother by the time. no one could ever get close to his little sister, much less his friends who he knew so well. everything turned upside down when you turned thirteen, and your parents sent you to a boarding school for girls in the outskirts of the country. you didn't see mattheo again until a year ago, where all kinds of things started to go wrong.

ㅤㅤㅤ the first time you two had a run-in was eight months ago. theodore, after having insisted for hours, took you to a party with the strict condition of not being near his friends. the big problem started when your brother drank so much that he was unable to drive the car, and mattheo was the only sane one to take you home. if your brother hadn't drank more than he should have, you wouldn't have had the slightest intention of getting close to them, and everything that's happening with mattheo would never have blossomed.

ㅤㅤㅤ from that time on, mattheo started looking for you, and even if you insisted that it was forbidden, nothing could stop the desire of your eager bodies.

ㅤㅤㅤ and that's how you've ended up, once again, whimpering under his sticky body. you're not fully aware of how many times you've cum under the brunette's caresses, but you're sure you've enjoyed each one of them. the labored breathing, aroma of the room, and condoms thrown on the floor were proof of that.

ㅤㅤㅤ —shit, —he whispers, coming out of you to throw away the condom that was squeezing his cock—. so perfect. and just for me.

ㅤㅤㅤ you barely smile because you're still a little lost from the explosion of sensations you'd experienced seconds ago. mattheo, until now, had tested your pussy until exhaustion. he had bitten, licked, and sucked every corner of your naked body with the need to mark you until the last day of your life. of course, as fascinating as everything he'd done before, burying himself in you over and over again wasn't going to be left out of the long night.

ㅤㅤㅤ —how i love to see your face after the orgasm —he whispers, caressing your legs, standing between them—. so beautiful and bright.

ㅤㅤㅤ seeing him naked and stained by soft pink marks can only awaken a new wave of need that intoxicates you. it is an unrecognizable force of desire that generates all kinds of thoughts loaded with lust. then, motivated by instinct, you hug his waist with your legs and pull his arm.

ㅤㅤㅤ —what is this? —he questions, resting one of his hands on the bed so as not to crush you—. seconds ago, you were screaming that you couldn't take it anymore.

ㅤㅤㅤ there is a hint of concern in his voice for taking you to an unknown limit, but also a certain mockery that does not go unnoticed, motivating you to rub your pussy against his slowly hardening crotch. it was as clear as the day that mattheo riddle could never resist you.

ㅤㅤㅤ —mattheo. —the guttural moan that escapes your lips is enough to make him lose his mind a little—. i need you to fuck me again. i need to feel every inch of you, please.

ㅤㅤㅤ —baby, i don't...

ㅤㅤㅤ knowing exactly what he was going to say and taking the initiative, you speak—. i don’t want you to use a condom. please, mattheo, i need to feel it all inside me.

ㅤㅤㅤ how could he think straight when you’re rubbing yourself shamelessly, his lip marks glistening on your chest, and you’re smiling like the devil himself has possessed you?

ㅤㅤㅤ mattheo’s lips tangle with yours in a messy, exhausted, needy kiss. it was such a strange mix that your heart skips a beat against your chest. he settles against your pussy, finding your entrance and gently pushing himself inside you. he didn’t want to go fast because mattheo wanted to remember every corner of your insides with agony.

ㅤㅤㅤ —you feel so good.

ㅤㅤㅤ when his member is completely inside you, you feel his warm skin throbbing and stretching your muscles to the limit. the feeling of that connection drove you completely crazy because being with mattheo was already dangerous territory, and having him inside you without any barriers was even more exciting.

ㅤㅤㅤ —do it slowly —you ask, moving your hips to let him know that he could move.

ㅤㅤㅤ just as you had asked, mattheo does not rush. his entries and exits are smooth, enjoying the exquisiteness of your hot interior. he was fascinated by the way your muscles embraced him, sliding without problem against your walls that could have made him cum from the first moment.

ㅤㅤㅤ soft moans begin to escape from mattheo's lips, forcing you to pay attention to those sounds that you had rarely heard. they were loud, husky, and shameless, perfectly matching the clash of your bodies and your own moans.

ㅤㅤㅤ —shit, i could get addicted to this. feeling you like never before, —he whispers, kissing your chest and speeding up the movement of his hips—. but i can’t take it anymore.

ㅤㅤㅤ a soft cry escapes your mouth at the speed that tickles the inside of your body. mattheo separates his chest from yours, raising your hips held by his hands and burying himself deeper this time. you try to keep your composure, but it’s impossible not to whimper and shudder.

ㅤㅤㅤ —mattheo, i can’t... —a stream of tears escapes down your reddened face—. i need to cum.

ㅤㅤㅤ he doesn't respond, dropping your body back against the bed and stimulating your clit with one of his fingers. the simple contact makes you arch your back in unrecognizable pleasure, clouding your gaze.

ㅤㅤㅤ —so stupidly cute, —he whispers, admiring the way his cock comes in and out of you to discover every corner of your interior—. you're going to look so gorgeous after this. come on, baby, cum for me.

ㅤㅤㅤ you close your eyes tightly, moaning loudly at the amount of sensations that whip through your entire body. then, you feel it, a relieving heat that runs through your entire body accompanied by a soft pop. mattheo has just left your interior to cum in your abdomen, while a soft convulsion releases your own orgasm.

ㅤㅤㅤ you can’t open your eyes because you’re too tired, irritated, and relieved to do so. mattheo takes the liberty of cleaning you up, tidying the room soon after.

ㅤㅤㅤ —you can’t fall asleep, —you whisper, feeling the heaviness of his arm around you—. mattheo?

ㅤㅤㅤ —i know, baby. i know.

ㅤㅤㅤ and the truth is, you should have found the strength to get him out of the room, but you didn’t, waking up the next morning with his arm still squeezing you.

ㅤㅤㅤ —mattheo!? —it's a little scream that you have to stifle with your own hand, getting out of bed and watching him wake up lazily—. shit! mattheo, wake up. you have to go. now.

ㅤㅤㅤ —five minutes...

ㅤㅤㅤ —what? —you climb onto the bed, pushing him towards the edge as best you can—. shit. come on, please, mattheo...

ㅤㅤㅤ and the silly smile that appears on his face at your useless efforts doesn't help the panic growing in your chest. then he pulls your arm, making you fall on top of his bare chest.

ㅤㅤㅤ —do you know that you're wearing my shirt? i can't leave without it.

ㅤㅤㅤ the truth is that you hadn't realized that until he mentions it. mattheo, in an attempt to kiss your lips, approaches your face with impulse.

ㅤㅤㅤ —if that's what you need to get out of the fucking bed.

ㅤㅤㅤ and mattheo shines at the idea of ​​seeing your tits. however, the second you try to take off the garment over your head, your door bursts open. theodore nott, your brother, is now part of the equation.

ㅤㅤㅤ —what the fuck am i looking at? —at each word he pauses a little, exchanging his gaze between you and his best friend.

ㅤㅤㅤ mattheo has jumped out of bed, and the obviousness, given his semi-nakedness, is comical.

ㅤㅤㅤ —god! —you approach your brother, determined to push him out of your room—. why the hell are you coming in without knocking?

ㅤㅤㅤ —hey, bro!

ㅤㅤㅤ if it weren't for the fact that you know that's the worst thing he could say, you would have considered that goofy smile one of the cutest you've ever seen on his face.

ㅤㅤㅤ —shut the fuck up! —theodore bellows, pulling his best friend closer—. i'll talk to you later. walk, motherfucker.

ㅤㅤㅤ —theodore, wait!

ㅤㅤㅤ mattheo doesn't seem to have the best face in the world, but he doesn't seem sorry or afraid either. what the hell is wrong with him today?

ㅤㅤㅤ —see you soon, baby.

ㅤㅤㅤ and you can hear mattheo receive a blow, followed by your brother's voice saying—: you're not going to see her anytime soon, shit face. what the hell do you think you're doing...?

[solsticehymns]

liar, liar: oneshot

james potter x f!reader / fluff / romcom vibes / truth serum shenanigans

summary: James Potter doesn’t mean to confess his feelings. Or overshare. Or humiliate himself in front of the girl he’s in love with. But when a truth-telling potion takes hold, he doesn’t really have a choice.

a/n: recently rewatched liar liar. EXCELLENT MOVIE. even though jim carrey’s face makes me irrationally angry, the plot is so good and heartwarming. this fic was heavily inspired by those vibes, and kinda just that 90s romcom vibe in general! really hope you love it <333 xoxo, sunny ☀️🌻💞

wc: 3963

"You know," Sirius began, his voice thick with scrambled eggs, "if they can't manage to cook bacon properly, they really shouldn’t be serving it at all. It’s practically criminal."

Remus, barely glancing up from the Daily Prophet, replied with practiced indifference, "You say that every morning."

"And every morning, I’m still right," Sirius said, stabbing at a charred piece of bacon with melodramatic flair.

James Potter, seated between them, was only marginally involved in the conversation. The bulk of his attention—an alarming, disproportionate amount—was focused a few seats down the Gryffindor table, where you were nestled beside Lily Evans with a steaming cup of tea cradled between your hands. You laughed at something she said, a sound so soft and clear that it reached him easily over the low hum of breakfast chatter. James didn’t even hear the joke. The moment you smiled, his brain short-circuited—something sparked, overloaded, and went still.

He lifted his goblet of pumpkin juice, took a slow sip, and set it back down carefully. A droplet slid down the rim, clinging to his finger. He wiped it away absently, still looking at you.

There was something specific about mornings and you—a quiet kind of softness. Your hair was still slightly tousled from sleep, your oversized jumper hung loosely on your frame, and your hands gripped the mug as if it anchored you to the table. You leaned in, laughing again, and the sound caught in James's chest like a hook.

You weren’t trying to be radiant. That was the worst part. You didn’t angle for attention—you just had that gravitational pull, the kind of beauty that rearranged a room without asking permission. And James was, academically speaking, utterly and irreversibly besotted.

This wasn’t new. It had been happening slowly, over months—maybe even years. A quiet, resigned sort of yearning that made itself at home beneath his ribcage; a second heartbeat. He realized he was in too deep when he stopped fantasizing about declarations and started yearning for the ordinary. Sharing a table in the library. Catching your eye across a hallway. The occasional accidental touch that felt far too meaningful.

He’d made peace with the ache. As long as he got to see you every day, he could live with it.

Peter nudged him with a mouthful of toast. "Did you finish the Transfiguration essay?"

James’s jaw tightened. He was about to deliver a casual, harmless answer. Something that passed as effort.

Instead, what he said was, "Didn't even open the book."

Silence.

James blinked.

What the hell?

He hadn’t meant to say that. Hadn’t even consciously thought it.

Remus slowly lowered his newspaper. "Come again?"

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "That’s not the James Potter we know and grudgingly tolerate."

James felt a prickling heat crawl up his neck. He tried again.

"I meant to, but I got distracted. By a leaf. Or a bird. Something shiny. I don’t know."

The words tumbled out uncontrollably. He slapped both hands over his mouth, a feeble attempt at containing the damage. His cheeks were already burning, and his eyes darted around as if he could chase the words down and pull them back.

Don’t speak. Don’t even breathe, he warned himself.

Sirius grinned, delighted. "Did you just involuntarily confess to procrastinating?"

James whispered, horrified, "I didn’t mean to. It just—happened. Like my mouth’s operating on its own."

Remus's smile faltered. He looked mildly concerned now.

Before anyone could respond, your voice cut through the moment.

"Did you hit your head this morning, Potter?"

You were looking at him, bemused, your head tilted slightly. You were clearly unaware that James was in the middle of a full-blown crisis.

He turned toward you with the intention of brushing it off—something witty, something safe.

His brain screamed: Don’t say it. Don’t you dare say it—

"You're the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen and I think about your smile at least three times an hour."

Dead silence.

Your eyes widened.

James felt as if someone had suddenly electrocuted his nervous system. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

You blinked, once, then twice, and let out a breathy, incredulous laugh. "Right. You definitely hit your head."

You stood, tucked your book under your arm, and offered him one last look—a half-smile, curious and a little amused. An unknown emotion flickered in your expression before you turned away.

Gone.

James’s hand froze mid-air, toast still suspended as if caught in a still photograph.

His stomach plummeted.

Across the table, Sirius collapsed forward, laughter shaking his shoulders.

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly regretting every decision that had brought him to this moment.

Peter leaned in cautiously. "Mate, what the hell was that?"

James turned to them slowly, wide-eyed and pale. "What did you do?"

Sirius beamed and gestured vaguely to the cluster of goblets in the center of the table. One still held a faint swirl of orange juice.

"This," he said reverently, "is the single best moment of my life."

James’s voice came out sharp and panicked. "Tell me. Now."

Remus hesitated, fidgeting with the edge of his paper. "We might have… accidentally tested something. On you."

James stiffened. "Tested what?"

Sirius leaned back smugly. "The pumpkin juice. We brewed a variant of Veritaserum last night. Just for fun. You drank the one we spiked. Or maybe it was the goblet next to it. Jury’s still out."

"Lucky you," Remus added, not meeting James’s eyes.

James dropped his toast. It landed butter-side down with a soft, tragic thud.

He didn’t blink.

"Oh," he said flatly. "Fuck."

James spent the subsequent hours engaging in a masterclass of avoidance tactics. He deliberately skipped lunch, took unnecessarily long routes between classes, and at one point, concealed himself behind a seventh-floor tapestry for seventeen excruciating minutes while you stood just a few feet away, engrossed in conversation with Dorcas Meadowes.

It was not dignified. But then again, dignity had abandoned him somewhere between blurting out "you're the most beautiful person I've ever seen" and letting his toast fall like a tragic Victorian heroine succumbing to fate.

Remus assured him that the potion’s effects would wear off by mid-afternoon. James clung to that prediction like a drowning man to driftwood, crafting mental versions of the day in which he might make it through without hemorrhaging any further fragments of pride. Yet with each step he took toward the next class, doubt clawed at him—what if the potion lingered just long enough to obliterate his remaining social capital? The uncertainty scratched under his skin, carrying a similar feeling to an irreversible hex.

Sirius, on the other hand, made it his personal mission to test the serum’s potency every fifteen minutes.

"Prongs, mate, how do you really feel about Filch?"

"He smells like cabbage and despair, and I once dreamt he chased me with a ladle."

Sirius erupted into delighted laughter.

James groaned into his hands. "This is it. I’m going to die of Veritaserum-induced emotional exposure."

"You’ll survive," Remus said, although his tone suggested he was still conducting the risk assessment in real time.

They scraped through Herbology with minimal disaster. James uttered only one vaguely mortifying remark—"She hugged me once and I still think about how she smelled"—which he managed to reframe as a Weird Sisters lyric. Barely.

But Transfiguration? That was a catastrophe waiting in slow motion.

With exams approaching, McGonagall had declared the day a review session, which in practice meant organized chaos. Students clustered at scattered tables, muttering incantations under their breath, cross-referencing spellwork, and trying not to Vanish their self-respect alongside practice objects. James sat toward the back. You were near the front, half-turned toward your group so that he could see the slope of your shoulder and the line of your smile when you laughed.

You were surrounded by Lily, Dorcas, and Marlene—quills scratching, parchment rustling, the occasional gasp of horror as someone’s Vanishing Spell rendered an entire desk legless. James was meant to be revising. Instead, his hand trembled and his heart pounded like it had something to prove.

His notes were illegible. The phrase "turn to smoke???" appeared multiple times, alongside a sketch of a teacup that looked suspiciously like it was weeping. His quill tapped an erratic beat against the parchment.

Across from him, Sirius arched an eyebrow, already grinning.

"So," he said, low and gleeful, just loud enough, "how exactly do you feel about her again?"

James didn’t even look up. The words left him instinctively.

"She’s a walking daydream, and I’ve got about four essays overdue because of her face."

It echoed.

Not quietly. Not subtly. It was loud enough to carry over to three tables in the vicinity

Heads turned. Someone choked on a cough. Sirius bit his fist, shaking with the effort not to fall off his chair.

James froze.

His entire body went rigid—quill suspended mid-air, lungs locked in his chest. It was as if the very fabric of time had paused to acknowledge his downfall.

Then—movement.

You paused mid-sentence. Lily tapped your shoulder with subtle urgency. Dorcas leaned in, her expression intrigued. Marlene glanced over her shoulder with the kind of grin reserved for front-row seats to emotional train wrecks.

You listened. Blinked slowly.

Then—deliberately—you turned.

The entire table held its collective breath.

Your gaze found James’s like a targeting spell—brows raised, eyes wide. Not offended. Not amused. Just... intrigued. Like you'd heard something strange and didn’t know what to do with it yet—but wanted to.

James wanted the floor to open beneath him and deliver him mercifully into the void. He briefly entertained the idea of self-immolation.

But then—you smiled.

A small one. Tentative. Surprised, maybe. But not dismissive. Not cruel.

You turned back around, and chaos resumed. Lily covered her mouth. Dorcas said something that made Marlene snort into her sleeve. Whatever it was, it was very clearly about James.

James stared at the back of your head, wondering if it might offer a second chance if he looked hard enough.

Sirius was wheezing. Remus had buried his face in his hands. Peter knocked over his inkpot in the ensuing shockwave.

James slumped forward with a groan that seemed to exit his soul before his body.

He was, by every available metric, completely and irrevocably screwed.

He had barely taken ten steps from the classroom when a voice behind him called out.

"Potter."

He turned too quickly—jerky and obvious—and almost collided with you as you stepped directly into his path.

You didn’t flinch. You simply stood there, arms folded loosely, head tilted, gaze calm and inquisitive. The corridor had mostly emptied by now, the background noise reduced to the distant echo of footsteps and muffled voices behind heavy wooden doors.

James’s heart performed a complicated sequence of flips before lodging itself somewhere uncomfortably near his throat.

You met his eyes with an unreadable expression—curious, composed, lightly amused. Like you’d opened a door and were standing on the threshold, waiting to see if he’d walk through it.

"Quick question," you said, tone airy but precise. "Was that... about me?"

His mouth opened. Instinct surged to the front of his mind—sarcasm, a joke, maybe even a clumsy attempt at denial. But his thoughts lagged just behind his reflexes, and before he could intercept them, the words had already spilled out.

"Yeah," he said plainly. "And by the way, you’re absurdly pretty. Like—genuinely hard to function around. Painfully so."

Silence fell with the weight of a dropped textbook.

You blinked. Once. Then again.

James stood frozen, every synapse in his body firing off simultaneously, as though his nervous system couldn’t decide between fight, flight, or faint. His ears were burning. His hands twitched at his sides, completely useless.

Finally, you let out a soft laugh. It wasn’t cruel, or mocking. Just surprised. Genuine.

"You’re strange, Potter."

James flailed—just barely—before shoving his hands into his pockets like it might prevent further disaster.

"No—I mean, not in a creepy way. Or, alright, maybe slightly weird, but not bad-weird. I just think you’re... brilliant. And kind. And I notice when you wear that jumper with the rip in the sleeve because it makes you look comfortable. And I should probably stop talking now."

You looked at him for a moment that stretched longer than it should have. Not unkind. Not amused. Something else—curious, thoughtful. As if you were seeing him clearly for the first time and hadn't yet decided what to make of it.

Your lips curled slightly.

You tilted your head. Evaluating. Deciding.

Then, finally, you smiled.

It was mischievous and warm, soft-edged and self-assured—the kind of smile that could level a person without trying.

"See you in Charms, heartthrob."

You turned and walked away with unhurried confidence, like you knew exactly the mess you were leaving in your wake.

James remained rooted in place, too stunned to move, like the rest of his body hadn’t caught up with what had just happened.

Crunch.

Sirius appeared beside him, seemingly conjured out of thin air, munching loudly on an apple with the casual demeanor of someone watching a soap opera.

"You’re done for, mate," he said cheerfully. "She’s gonna marry you."

James emitted a sound that hovered somewhere between a gasp and a wheeze.

Sirius thumped him on the back with unearned confidence. "Better start writing your vows."

Charms was an unmitigated disaster.

James had spent the walk to class muttering desperate prayers to any higher power that might take pity on him. Maybe Flitwick would assign partners alphabetically. Or by wand length. Or perhaps he’d adopt some arbitrary sorting system blessed by divine chance—anything to keep James from sitting next to you.

No such luck.

The universe, as it turned out, had a cruel sense of humor.

You slid into the seat beside him, entirely casual, like his whole nervous system hadn’t just tried to exit his body at the sight of you.

“Hi,” you said simply.

“Hi,” he replied, voice cracking like a prepubescent banshee. He cleared his throat. “Hi.”

You tilted your head slightly. “You doing alright?”

He gave a thumbs-up. Then immediately regretted it. Who does that?

Sirius, two rows back, made eye contact and mimed a halo over his head.

Flitwick launched into a lecture on the Cheering Charm, but James only caught every fifth word. Something about “light-hearted energy” and “proper wand movement,” none of which applied to the doom currently devouring his insides. His palms were damp. His quill was trembling slightly. His knee wouldn’t stop bouncing under the desk.

You leaned closer, one elbow resting casually on the table as you peered at his parchment.

“Is that supposed to be a diagram of a wand or a tree?”

James blinked at the mess of lines he’d drawn. “It’s—neither. Abstract art.”

You grinned, wide and easy, and he felt it as a punch to the sternum. His heart lurched so hard it practically knocked the air out of him. You had no idea what that smile did to him—how it short-circuited whatever logic he had left.

You turned your attention back to your notes, but your voice was light. Curious. Teasing.

“Do you always talk like this to girls, or just me?”

James didn’t even have time to panic.

“It’s just you. Always been you.”

The words hit the air like a dropped pin in an empty room.

You blinked.

He stared at the table, mortified. His ears burned. He could feel Sirius’s psychic scream of glee from two rows away. He’d said it. Out loud. He’d said it out loud.

But you didn’t laugh, tease, or mock, as he had feared.

You only looked at him. Really looked at him.

Your expression held something quiet. Not surprise. Not pity. Something gentler—measured and soft. A flicker of understanding that warmed rather than burned.

James’s breath snagged in his throat. His fingers curled slightly around the base of his quill as he struggled to keep himself grounded. For one agonizing, wonderful moment, he thought he might cry—out of embarrassment, yes, but also because the moment was real.

And then—

You turned back to your wand.

Said nothing.

Your cheeks were slightly pink, your smile just barely visible as you bent over your parchment again. But you didn’t move away. You didn’t laugh it off. You stayed close, like the moment didn’t scare you the way it terrified him.

James blinked in the echo of it—your kindness, your quiet acceptance—completely undone.

He didn’t hear a word Flitwick said for the rest of class.

After class, James moved quickly—too quickly—trying to pack his things before reality caught up with him. If he kept his head down, avoided eye contact, and exited fast enough, maybe he could outrun the emotional catastrophe he’d spent all day teetering on.

But you didn’t leave.

“James.”

His name stopped him cold. Charms book half-shoved into his bag, his spine went rigid.

Your voice was quiet—not sarcastic, not amused. Measured. Sincere.

He turned slowly, bracing for the worst. You were standing a few feet away, arms loosely crossed, your bag hanging off one shoulder. There was nothing smug about your posture. If anything, your presence felt... gentle. And somehow, that made it harder to bear.

Your expression was hard to read, but it held no sharp edges. There was a softness in your eyes, something patient and open, like you were holding back the question that had been building all class.

“Are you okay?”

The simplicity of it landed with an almost disproportionate weight.

Because you meant it.

James blinked, unprepared. His brain scrambled to summon a joke, a quip—something light enough to float him out of this moment.

But the truth arrived first.

"No," he said. "Not even remotely."

The honesty stunned him. It left his mouth before he could restrain it, like the words had slipped from a part of him he couldn't control. He winced as soon as it was out.

Desperate to recover, he backpedaled.

“I mean—I’m not sick or dying or anything. Just…” He gestured vaguely at himself. “Emotionally compromised. Mildly feral. Truthfully unwell."

He offered a crooked smile. It held, barely.

Your brows lifted. Not out of judgment, but consideration. You looked at him like his words were puzzle pieces you were quietly fitting together.

“Truthfully, hm?”

James looked away. Embarrassment bloomed hot across his face.

It was absurd how much weight that single word carried. He fiddled with the zipper of his bag as if the act could insulate him from further exposure.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me today,” he muttered. “My filter’s gone. I think something and then—I say it. And somehow, it’s always when you’re standing nearby.”

Still, you didn’t laugh. You didn’t mock. You didn’t flinch.

Instead, you took one small step closer.

And then, without saying anything else, you reached forward and gave the sleeve of his robes the gentlest tug. Just once. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t performative. But it said everything: I see you. I’m still here.

James swallowed hard. His throat tightened, but this time not with panic. Something else. Something quiet. Something close to relief.

You turned and walked away, unhurried, the last rays of afternoon light catching in your hair as you rounded the corner.

The classroom was silent now.

James stood motionless for several seconds before lowering himself into the nearest chair like someone had been holding him upright all day and finally let go. His bag hung off one shoulder, forgotten. His hair fell into his eyes.

He tipped his head back and groaned—long, dramatic, utterly defeated: “I am so fucking doomed.”

The Gryffindor common room was silent—eerily so.

James had barely stepped through the portrait hole when he sensed it. The stillness felt curated, like a scene hastily arranged moments before he entered.

He pivoted to leave, but Sirius materialized in his path, smiling with far too much innocence to be trusted.

“Where are you off to, Prongs?”

James squinted. “Nowhere. Anywhere. Just—not here.”

“Perfect,” Sirius chirped. “Come sit.”

Before James could object, Sirius ushered him toward the fireplace with the gentle coercion of someone leading a lamb to slaughter.

That’s when James saw you.

You were already seated on the sofa, legs folded beneath you, a forgotten book resting in your lap. The firelight danced across your features, softening the angles of your face in a golden glow.

James froze. "You planned this."

Sirius thumped him on the back. "Me? Never. Just a wildly convenient coincidence, right?"

You raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Well, would you look at that,” Sirius said, clutching his chest like he was moved to tears. “Two of my dearest friends. Alone. In the same room. Under the same roof. By sheer happenstance.” He turned to you. “Don’t mind me—I’ll just be over here, not spying and definitely not listening in.”

He took a single, dramatic step back.

“Actually, no. I should go. Destiny awaits.”

James whipped around. “Sirius—”

“Good luck!” Sirius called over his shoulder, already ascending the stairs. “Also, feel free to profess undying love! Or don’t. But you probably should.”

The portrait hole sealed behind him.

James turned to face you. You had closed your book.

“That wasn’t subtle,” you said.

James exhaled and dragged a hand through his hair. “Not even a little.”

You rose, slow and deliberate. Arms folded—not defensive, but inquisitive.

“One question,” you said. “Why?”

James blinked. “Why...?”

You softened your tone. “Why have you been acting so strange today?”

That was all it took.

“I was dosed with a homemade version of Veritaserum,” James admitted, words tumbling out. “Sirius and Remus spiked my pumpkin juice this morning. For fun. That’s why I’ve been blurting things I’d normally take to the grave. Especially around you.”

He hesitated. Took a breath.

“Even so—I meant every word.”

You didn’t interrupt.

James’s voice quieted, like he was running out of room in his own chest.

“I don’t think I’ve ever outright lied to you, not really. It’s more that I’ve been pretending. Like saying 'morning' without letting it mean anything. Sitting near you and pretending I wasn’t waiting for you to notice.”

He let that hang between you.

“I can’t believe it took a bloody potion for me to admit I’m in love with you. I think I’ve known for ages. Maybe since third year, when you lent me your notes and smiled like I hadn’t just failed spectacularly. Or maybe fifth year, when you hexed Mulciber for picking on that first-year and shrugged it off like it was nothing. I’ve carried it for so long it stopped feeling urgent. It just became part of me.”

The fire crackled. James stared into it, hoping he would vanish.

“I didn’t plan to say that either,” he murmured under his breath.

You studied him.

Then, voice barely above a whisper: “You’re in love with me?”

He nodded, completely genuine. “Madly.”

And when you kissed him—softly, surely, like you’d already decided—James forgot how to stand still. One hand found your waist like it had always known where to go; the other hovered, then gently cupped your cheek, as though the moment might dissolve if he wasn’t careful.

Your lips were warm and real, and James felt his entire body lit with quiet flame.

You kissed him like it hadn’t scared you off. Like maybe it had pulled you closer.

When you broke apart—just enough to breathe—your forehead pressed against his.

“You really are strange, Potter,” you said.

James let out a shaky laugh. “You kissed me anyway.”

You smiled. “I suppose I like strange.”

And for once, James Potter didn’t need to speak. But if he had to, he’d spend the rest of his life figuring out the right words for you.

By morning, Remus and Sirius had double-checked the potion’s timeline. It had likely worn off sometime around Charms.

Everything after that? All James.

☀️🌻 masterlist

[floatyflowers]

Male! Glinda x Dorothy's mother! Reader

"Glind?" You ask in confusion, as you look at the good wizard of the south, while your hands are placed on Dorothy, your daughter's shoulders.

"When Dorothy spoke about you, I never imagined that you would be her mother."

"You both know each other?" Dorothy asks in shock.

Glind gives a small, nervous laugh, twirling his wand in his hand, his usual composure slightly faltering.

Her eyes flicker between you and Dorothy.

"Oh, we... we knew each other, long ago, your mother and I went to university together, though I dare say we were more than friends."

Your eyebrows arch, uneasiness creeping into your expression.

"That's one way to put it," you mutter, your grip on Dorothy's shoulders tightening as the memories flood back.

Glind had been the golden star, dazzling everyone at Shiz University, while you had been more reserved, preferring quiet corners and a life outside the spotlight.

You were originally from Kansas but found yourself transported to the land of Oz after an accident.

The Wizard Oz took you in and offered to help you after you told him your situation, he enrolled you into the university of Shiz.

And that's where you met Glind and also Elphabe who had a unique skin colour along with strong powers.

The wicked wizard of the West used to be your friend.

But Glind told Elphabe that you don't want to be his friend anymore after you two got engaged and soon to be wed.

And thanks to Glind's possessive narcissistic attitude, he ruined this friendship.

So, you asked Oz to return back to your homeland just to escape marrying Glind, and he granted you that.

Now that you are back here, you just want to take your daughter and leave.

"Thank you for helping my daughter, but I think we should leave now."

"Wait a second."

Glind speaks, his wand tapping against his palm.

"We have some catching up to do," he says brightly, though his voice carries a hint of coldness

"Dorothy, darling, why don’t you go check on Toto? I’m sure he’s getting into trouble somewhere. Your mother and I, need to have a little... chat."

Your daughter's eyes widened before rushing to search for Toto, leaving you alone with the light-haired Wizard.

Glind moves towards you before grabbing your arms tightly.

"Is Dorothy my daughter?"

[moonstruckme]

Who's That Girl

summary: after Peter moves out due to unspecified reasons suddenly, the marauders have a room to fill. Luckily, you've just arrived in the UK and are happy to sign the lease

cw: modern au, reader has a mother/maternal figure

roommate!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

“Okay, mom.” You rub your eyes, arm still sore from lugging your suitcase around half of London. “No, I really don’t think so. It’d be a pretty elaborate scheme just to kill me. Our names are all together on the lease, there’d be a paper trail.” 

There’s a quiet snicker from the doorway. You look over to find James, one of your new roommates, standing in the threshold of your room. You grimace, miming waving your mother’s concerns away. 

“Seriously, you don’t have to worry, I—fine, here. Listen.” You put your hand over the speaker. “I’m so sorry about this,” you tell James. “Can you tell her you’re not going to murder me, please?” 

“Why would we murder you?” he asks in an easy, jovial voice. It’s the sort of voice moms love, which is perfect for what you need right now. “We need you alive to pay rent, and anyway we’ve nowhere to hide a body. They started being rather vigilant about the Thames some time ago.” 

“He’s joking,” you say quickly into the phone. “Yeah, I’m sure. They do that here, too. Now will you please go to sleep? I’m good, I promise. Okay, call you later. Love you.” 

You click the button to hang up with a sigh, dropping back onto your mattress. 

“Your mum?” James asks sympathetically. 

You hum. “Yeah, sorry. It’s four in the morning for her right now, and she’s all wound up. I appreciate the help.” 

Despite your best efforts, you can’t seem to convince your body it’s not four in the morning for you right now. You thought taking the red eye to London would help you adjust quickly to the time change, but a sleepless flight has only made you weary and disoriented. You screwed up the route from the airport to your new flat, realizing only around Richmond that you’d gone the complete wrong direction on the wrong tube line. It took you a solid hour longer to get to your flat than you planned. When you saw Sirius, who’d posted the flat in an online roommates group, waiting on the other side of the door you nearly collapsed into his arms in teary gratitude. 

With the haze of fatigue still clouding your thinking, it takes you a few moments to wonder why James has come to stand in your room. 

“Did you need something?” 

“I was just wondering if you might like breakfast,” he says. His big frame fills the doorway, his shoulder leaning against the frame like it’s a familiar stance. 

You try to hide your wariness, your mind filling with images of black pudding and beans smeared on toast. “What are you having?” 

“Omelets.” 

“Yes, please.” You hop out of bed. It’s less bouncy than lurching, but you’re trying to affect vivacity in the hopes you eventually start to feel it. 

James leads you towards the kitchen. Your room, you discovered when you arrived, is even duller than the pictures online. The previous tenant either hadn’t decorated at all or had moved out in a hurry, leaving only a bed and some trash on the floor. The room is small, with peeling white paint and a tiny window situated oddly in the corner, the scraggly tree outside eclipsing half of the view. 

The rest of the flat is a different thing entirely. The common spaces are mostly open; you can see the kitchen from the living room, with everything lit by two large windows looking out onto the street. There’s a funny mishmash of decorations, some pieces hinting at unity and others not so the way it all comes together seems almost like a happy accident. A nice, plush couch sits next to a chair that looks like it was dragged in off the street; there are books stacked against walls and album covers being used for coasters; a collection of vinyl records sits on the mantle next to a bluetooth speaker and above stockings seemingly left out since Christmas. It’s definitely a space decorated by boys, but you like it. It feels homey. 

“My mum would be in a right state if I up and moved continents,” says James, walking into the kitchen. He takes up position behind the stove, next to where Remus is making tea. “Is it the city she’s worried about?” 

“It’s everything,” you admit, lingering awkwardly at the edge of the kitchen. You don’t want to be in the way. “It’s the city, it’s the male roommates, it’s the Facebook post she saw about muggings…” 

“Flatmates,” Sirius corrects you from the kitchen table. “We’re not roommates, we don’t share a room. Maybe you ought to clarify that, might calm her down a bit.” 

“Flatmates,” you amend. “She does not like that I have guy flatmates. Can I help?” 

“Don’t,” says Sirius. “Remus is a control freak in the kitchen. Real finicky.” 

“I’m not finicky.” Somehow, you can tell Remus is rolling his eyes even without him turning it around. 

“You nearly took my head off over the way I cook chicken last week.” 

“The way you cook chicken nearly burned down the flat.” 

“Y/n,” Sirius says, seriously, “do as I do.” He pats the seat next to him at the table. 

You glance at James hesitantly, but he waves you off. When you join Sirius in sitting down, you forget to suppress the sigh that collapses out of you. 

Sirius tuts. “Jet lagged?” 

Lag feels too kind a word for what your body is doing to you. “Yeah. Think I’m gonna take a nap after this.” 

“Oh, don’t do that,” he says. “I’ve done the whole international travel thing—” 

“You’ve been to France,” says Remus drolly. “The time difference is an hour.” 

“—and it really is best to just push through,” Sirius finishes as though the interruption went unheard. “You’ll only make matters worse for yourself if you sleep now and then can’t tonight.” 

You hate how sound his logic seems. The idea of waiting at least ten hours to put your head to a pillow makes you want to cry. 

“So,” James says brightly, “what doesn’t your mum like about you having guys for flatmates?” 

Perhaps it can be chalked up to exhaustion that you have so little control over the expression that crosses your face. Luckily, James is too concentrated on his omelet to see it, but Remus isn’t; he grins at you. 

“She doesn’t really love the idea of me having roommates at all. Flatmates,” you correct yourself when Sirius gives you a look. “I think because you’re guys, she just sees it as even less safe. Don’t take it personally. Oh, thank you.” 

You accept the mug of tea Remus sets in front of you. Sirius has one already half drunk in front of him, and Remus sits down with his own, taking a long sip like it’s the most relished part of his morning. You look into the brown, half-opaque liquid skeptically. 

“Has she been this upset since you decided to live with us?” Remus asks. 

“Oh, um.” You bob your teabag aimlessly, twisting the string around your finger. “I…sort of assumed she would be. That’s why I didn’t tell her until now.” 

You don’t have to take your attention off your tea to feel the stares of all three boys snap to you. 

“You didn’t tell her?” James asks, incredulous. 

“I didn’t want to give her the chance to argue with me about it.” 

“Asking for forgiveness instead of permission.” Sirius nods approvingly, picking up his mug for a sip. “Knew I liked you.” 

James appears in distress. “Your mum’s gonna hate us!” 

“Don’t mind him,” says Remus. “He’s used to all mothers fawning over him.” 

“Not mine,” Sirius objects happily. 

“She’s across the ocean, if that helps,” you tell James. 

“I can feel her hatred crossing borders,” he says, expression growing increasingly fretful. 

“Well, all you have to do is not murder me,” you offer, “and she’ll see that she’s wrong.” 

Sirius gives an insouciant shrug. “Pay your rent on time, and we ought to be fine there. No promises, of course.”

[prongsinrevolt]

I cannot believe people let Snape get the high ground.

How do people casually overlook the fact that Snape spent six entire years of his life telling a kid—who never even got the chance to know his father—that said father was an arrogant douchebag? Like, how do people think that behavior is normal?

Snape, a grown man, spent years trying to convince a grieving, orphaned child that his dead father—who literally died protecting his family—was a terrible person. No compassion for a man who gave his life for his wife and son. No sympathy for a kid who grew up abused, unloved, and completely alone, only learning about his parents through stories told by others.

Instead, Snape chose to rehash his teenage rivalry with James Potter by bullying his son. Imagine being so petty that you can’t move past your high school grudges, even when the other person has been dead for over a decade.

Even the coldest, most detached person would muster some respect for a man who died fighting for good. But Snape? No. He chose to sit on his high horse—ignoring the fact that he was once a Death Eater who only changed sides when his own personal interests were threatened—and still had the audacity to act morally superior to James.

James Potter died a hero. Snape, on the other hand, spent his life tormenting the child of the woman he claimed to love—while refusing to let go of a teenage rivalry and weaponizing it against a traumatized, grieving boy.

I cannot get over how utterly selfish and cruel that is. Snape had no empathy for the dead and no sympathy for the living. And people still try to defend him? Seriously?

[satin-velvet]

.* ·˚ 𝒟𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒲𝒾𝓏𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝒹-𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓈 ✧.* ·˚ ༘ 𝒢𝒩!𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

summary: a collection of head-canons around dating the wonderful wizard of oz.

note: I loved writing these, and I also wanted to write something gender-neutral. Thank you to everyone reading! Happy new years! 2025 will be a year filled with writing, wicked, and good memories <3

disclaimer: maybe not entirely accurate, this is just my interpretation of his character. subject to change, of course. some mentions of nsfw but nothing explicit.

✧.* ·˚ ༘

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

Oscar, unfortunately, is a bit lonely. Madame Moribble isn’t in the Emerald City all the time, so he’s mostly left to his own devices. I imagine he created the Oz of Tomorrow so he’d have something to do. Of course, lonely in the past tense, because with you he doesn’t feel lonely anymore!

He would immediately have a little figurine made for you, one for keepsakes and the other to go with his in the Oz of Tomorrow. Speaking of, he would love just explaining every detail of it and sharing everything he wants to add to it. He would want to hear your ideas, too, and hear what you think about it.

His favorite color, as we know, is green. If you wore green, he would love it. It doesn’t matter what; shirts, pants, dresses, lingerie, whatever. If you really wanted, he would get you a completely brand new, all green wardrobe. Just for you.

A little farther into the relationship, he’d want to tell you some of the things he remembers about Omaha, though it’s not much. Things about life before he was the wizard, but he might leave out the parts about him not actually being magical. He wouldn’t want you to think less of him. If you were also from somewhere far from Oz, he would be a little more comfortable with you since you have the shared experience of being somewhere completely new.

He’d be clingy, mostly unintentionally. Now that he has someone to actually talk to and spend time with, it’d be hard going back to doing things alone, even if it’s for a short while. There would be plenty he’d want to talk to you about, and he will just talk and talk if you let him, even if you stop responding. When he has to do his wizard work, like.. signing documents and such, if you wanted to come along and hangout in his office, he would happily let you.

Would absolutely gift you nice, custom jewelry and accessories whenever. If he knows gifts make you happy, expect them a lot. If you gave him gifts back, he would definitely cherish them.

Even though he tends not to venture outside the palace, if you wanted to, he’d go out to the Emerald City and explore it with you. Sometimes in a disguise, sometimes not. Sometimes the attention of all the citizens becomes too much. He loves the attention, of course, but he would want to focus on you.

Very protective. If you absolutely must leave (he will try to convince you not too) he wouldn’t want you to go very far, especially anywhere he can’t ensure your safety. Anywhere near the desert? No. Random forests? Probably not. If he felt he needed to, he would have a guard go with you.

He tries to keep all his evil tendencies under wraps, and present as a charming, sentimental man. The truth is a little more complicated. He was quite caring, to begin with, but saving Oz came with some drawbacks. For instance, if you wanted to break up or leave, he would try to convince you not to.. all the classic “What am I going to do without you?” lines. If you did actually leave, he’d do the same thing he did with Elphaba and call the guards to go get you and bring you back. I think this is when he would be most pathetic and begging, especially if you were standing your ground. He would try and convince you for hours, however long it takes.

One thing he would hate is you favoring another person over him. If you don’t need him, then you might leave, and he doesn’t want that. He’s the one and only wizard of oz; who could be better than him? It would make him jealous, and quite hurt. You might have to reassure him every once in awhile that you do love him and won’t leave.

On the topic of magic, he probably has a little potion room where he experiments with making elixirs and potions. At first, it was just for fun (and to give to Melena) but if you wanted, he could try some on you. Most of them don’t do much, if anything at all. But he’d be excited you want to try one of his hobbies.

He loves dancing. Slow-dancing, tap-dancing.. it doesn’t matter. If you didn’t know how, he’d teach you how to slow-dance. I think he’s proficient in many things, niche or not, since he has so much time on his hands. Things like instruments are another thing he’d love to teach you.

He’s always wanted a child of his own, and he projects a little bit of that onto you when he teaches you how to do something or explains things. I think this would be very noticeable if you were younger than him.

He likes pet-names, mostly because they are charming and also good for manipulation when he needs to use it. I think he’d use darling the most, whether casually, during intercourse, or when he want’s something from you. There are other pet names he’d use, depending on what you like. If you aren’t a fan of those, a nickname works just fine.

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

[maxdreavus]

Falling Away With You | Ch. 48

Sebastian x F!Reader and M. Rasmodius x F!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: Y/n goes a little apeshit at JojaMart lmao

Author’s Note: *Crawls out of a pit covered in dirt and blood. Slaps this chapter down in front of you, on a SUNDAY no less!*

My health situation hasn’t improved whatsoever, but I will prevail, damnit!!

I wrote most of this and posted to ao3 early this morning, and haven't had a chance to proofread really. I'll do my best to get that done soon ^.^ Sorry if there are any weird wordings. Also sorry for the complete lack of Seb and Magnus in this one, I hope the shenanigans make up for it <3

Table of Contents + Work Summary

Check it out on ao3!

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I hate that stupid, cryptic, blue note I got.

Ever since it came, I think about it every time I check the mailbox, without fail. I don’t want to, I kinda just want to forget it exists, but I just… I dunno. I have a bad feeling about it. A gut feeling. Like, something’s totally up with it. It’s just been sitting in my closet for safekeeping until I decide what to do, though.

For some reason, I’ve been too nervous to bring it back up to Magnus. He’s forgotten it exists, from what I can tell. I think I’ll do my best to keep it that way for now. It feels more like my burden to bear than his, and besides, he’s already got the whole region to take care of.

After today’s confirmation that I don’t have bills or anything important like that, I head inside to get ready to leave the farm. Reeeally hoping my routine will shake out my heebiejeebies.

I got the OK from Magnus to use his fancy shrine for Spirit’s Eve. Got an idea of what I think I want to make myself look like, too. Maybe a tiefling or something. If tieflings don’t really exist, I’m sure some sort of succubi, or imps, or some sort of creature that looks like one’s gotta, no? I suppose I could always fall back on just pretending I’m an elf… man, a tail and horns would be so fun though. 

Either way, tomorrow is the big day and I am so ready for it.

I mean, like, almost ready. Whatever.

Today I’m going to Magnus’ place to get some practice in. Just a precautionary measure to try not to, like, blow myself up or something.

I’m gonna keep my outfit cozy and easy to move around in, but I have half a mind to make sure I wouldn’t mind losing these clothes in particular if something goes wrong with the transformation. Just some leggings, some crew-cut socks, an old hoodie, and my favorite boots, since I won’t have my shoes on in the shrine anyway. All of it is in black. Sebastian cosplay. 

I’ll pop my red studs in too, gotta commit to the bit. I haven’t had time to talk to The Emo and see if he actually did get his shit pierced last night, but assuming he did, and assuming he was able to use these for it, I wanna go all out, baby.

Now, before I head to the tower, I’ve got some errands to run around town. I woke up a bit late so there’s gonna be more people out than I’m looking forward to, but hopefully I have no creepy Alex encounters or awkward conversations with Shane again.

I promised Sam I’d visit him at work sometime soon, so I might as well head there first. He hates it there, and it’s been a while since we’ve caught up, so I’ll hopefully be a welcome distraction. I’ll bring him a coffee too to keep his spirits high.

After it’s done brewing, I grab two foam cups and pour the coffee in. Knowing Sam, he probably needs this stuff sweet, and I’m in the mood for sweet too, so I pour in a bunch of vanilla-flavored creamer. To make the beverages ~gourmet,~ I add a little whipped cream to each, as well as a light drizzle of chocolate syrup. After securing the plastic lids and giving Cannoli some well-deserved love, I head out.

While I pass by the bus stop, I make eye contact with Pam. I’ve never spoken to her, but… I dunno. I can’t tell if I like her or not. She gives me a nasty stink eye and I can only further assume she’s as mean as she outwardly appears. Unless she was just cursed with an intense resting bitch face...

I smile Pam’s way anyway. She doesn’t smile back, but that’s okay. It doesn’t benefit anyone to be so judgemental of her.

I pass a few local moms once I make it to the town square. None really mind me, which could mean they either didn’t notice, or they don’t care. Either is fine by me. I don’t hear what they’re saying, but Caroline talks very animatedly just before the rest of the group bursts into laughter.

I turn my attention back ahead as I pass by Pierre’s and nearly bump into Marnie as she’s leaving the shop.

We both squeak out a little “Oh!” before apologizing in unison.

“I wasn’t really paying attention,” I double down. 

“Oh, that’s fine. I rarely ever am!” She then motions to the two cups in my hands and adds, laughing, “At least the coffee’s safe!”

I awkwardly nod in agreement. Then, a brief flash of myself actually spilling coffee somewhere down the road raids my mind, my necklace tingling against my skin and my fingers practically buzzing.

Great.

“Everything alright, sweetie?”

That probably looked weird. “Yeah, sorry,” I try to recover, “just sleepy today!”

I take a sip of coffee to emphasize my point. Plus, I might as well drink what I can before these puppies go down. Hopefully I’ll be able to save at least one of them when the time comes.

“Aw, I’m sorry to hear that!” She puts a gentle hand on my shoulder. “I need to get back to the shop, but take it easy and don’t overwork yourself, you hear?” 

I nod, thanking her and waving her off with a shy grin before I continue moving. Once I get closer to the spot I’m supposed to be spilling these drinks — just before that little bridge over the river by JojaMart — I begin to walk more cautiously. If I can just keep these steady and focus on the ground… 

A sneeze creeps up on me. Oh god. Oh god oh fuck oh no.

Just as I’m beginning to carefully place one of the cups on the side of the bridge for safe keeping, the sneeze forces its way out of me. Luckily, one beverage — the one I hadn’t drank from yet — stays safely in my hand. Unluckily, the one I was working on trying to keep safe fell to the stones at my feet, opening up and dispersing its contents fucking everywhere.

God damnit. 

“Nice one.”

God fucking damnit.

I look up to the voice. It turns out Shane’s outside having a smoke. He’s at the opposite end of the bridge watching my clumsiness unfold with an aloof look about him. He’s bent over to lean on the stone wall, his right elbow propped up and his corresponding cheek in his palm. His left forearm is flat against the structure while his left hand lazily dangles his cigarette between two fingers.

Is that pink nail polish on one of them? I wonder if that’s Jas’ doing. 

I merely groan back my response, picking up the now-empty cup to discard in the trash bin near the store. As I proceed on my walk of shame past Shane, I point out, “At least my clothes stayed safe.”

Shane follows and asks, “How many ants do you think you murdered with that accident?” 

I grin a little at his dry humor. “Oh it was a massacre,” I bounce back. “The war in Gotoro pales in comparison.”

“Ha!” Oh my god, I made Shane — the grumpiest fuck I’ve ever met — laugh?! “Right on. Seems like pointless violence anyway.” 

I turn to see if I can catch him smiling for the first time, like, ever. It’s not there anymore, but there’s a residual brightness in his features.

Shane snuffs out his cig on the ashtray built into the garbage’s lid, abandoning it there before shoving his hands in the pockets of his bright blue shorts.

“Those sons’a bitches,” he nods in the direction of my carnage, “they had it coming.”

My nose scrunches as I laugh a little, giving him a funny look. “Damn, what’d they do to you?”

There’s a playful glint in his eye, as he deadpans me. “Exist.”

I shrug and nod — I get it, they can be pretty annoying! — and follow the man as he makes his way through the white-rimmed, glass-centered automatic doors. I try not to cringe outwardly at how many self-righteous pro-Joja fliers are on them.

Shane stops a few steps into the store. Turns around. I stop too and look up, tilting my head. What’re you looking at, punk? I think to myself. Dunno if I’d be pushing my limits by trying to say it out loud. Better not.

Shane gives me a weird look too, but I can barely see it. My senses are taking their damn time getting used to the obnoxiously fluorescent lighting.

“Don’t you shop at Pierre’s?” Shane wonders out loud.

I blink a few times as I adjust to the environment and then nod. “Visiting Sam,” I explain.

“Ah.” He nods too, in understanding, and then looking the other way he continues, “Enjoy.”

Shane makes his way towards a door to the right of the manager’s office. Says “Employee’s only,” so I’m assuming it’s a break room or something. I don’t miss the incorrect apostrophe, but choose not to linger on it either.

“You too.” He looks back over his shoulder, so I pair my well wishes with a lazy salute.

“Buh.”

…Buh?

I smile. I think he’s warming up to me!

Feeling a tad lost now that I’m alone, I look around before making any advances. Should’ve asked Shane if he knew where Sam would be around now. I dunno how the shifts work around here.

The cashiers to my left — a visibly exhausted red headed woman, probably in her late 30s or early 40s; and a scrawny, scruffy looking teenager, with thick-framed glasses sitting atop his freckled nose — both look miserable.

The boy is boredly leaning against the counter, zoned out on the ground in front of it. The woman looks totally spaced out on nothing in particular. It almost seems like she’s fighting off sleep, too. Poor lady. 

The woman and I lock onto each other. She looks away from my face before I can even register it, but I notice her eyes flicker longingly to the coffee cup in my hand a few times after the fact. I peer between her and the beverage twice before I all but scurry away into the aisles. I’m too awkward for this. My only option is to retreat. Never said I wasn’t a coward.

While I venture past the boatloads of boxed, bagged and canned foods in search of the resident dog boy, I observe some of the products. Some don’t look safe for consumption, while others seem like they’d be fun to try as a one-off sort of deal. It overlaps a few times as well. I mean, why wouldn’t I want to try this cereal which very explicitly states on the box that it’s more sugar than grains? It makes me stifle a giggle. I like the brutal honesty. 

I stop and stare at it for a sec. Gnawing my lip. Wondering if I should just…

No. I shan’t.

I break away from temptation and trek on. As I reach the end of the aisle, I pan across the back of the store. More shelf-stable products, a small produce section… ah!

Sam looks like he’s supposed to be mopping the floor near the freezers. To be fair, he is holding a mop, and it is touching the floor! But instead of cleaning, he uses the tool as a microphone; singing against the end of the brown wooden handle, both hands passionately gripping it as he bends his torso to quietly belt one part in particular. Sam’s eyes are shut, his bulky black headphones are secured over his ears, and he has not a single worry in the world. 

Holding his coffee in both hands now, I stop walking and lean against a nearby shelf. Observing. Waiting. Eventually he’ll have to see me.

He does a little spin move and carelessly bumps into the bucket of soapy water he’s working with, causing it to slosh around a little. Some of it lands on the floor, and some on the pants of Sam’s jumpsuit. Doesn’t faze him in the slightest. 

He does another spin the opposite way and nearly knocks over the conveniently placed display of sprinkles that are situated right in front of the ice cream freezer.

I feel like I should probably stop him before something bad happens, but he looks so damn content and so stinkin’ cute that I can’t be assed. 

Just as I’m thinking this, he opens his eyes, completely avoiding my direction while he immediately peers over his shoulder. Sam scans around, getting a full view of the proximate areas. It seems like he’s just making sure he’s not about to get caught by his boss or something, if I had to guess.

Eventually he lands on me. We both smile wide, and I triumphantly hold up his (unspilled!!) coffee in one hand, presenting it with a small flourish of the other and a bow of my head.

“For you, my good sir.” I make sure to sound extra fancy, dropping my voice an octave and annunciating my words a bit too much.

He looks around again before meeting me in the middle with a fist bump, completely ignoring my bit. Aw man.

“Hell yeah, thanks dude!” 

I shoot some awkward finger guns at him, “You got it, bud.”

“You didn’t make yourself one?”

I sigh, lamenting, “I did…”

Sam scans my face as we share a short silence. Then, the lightbulb almost visibly goes off in his noggin. “You spilled it, didn’t you?”

Pursing my lips, I nod. “I spilled it, yeah.” 

“Buuummer, dude.” He pats my head and I sigh, leaning into his touch. I’ll be damned if I don’t still love head-pats, even if it’s been a while since I’ve gotten one. “Wanna split this one then?” he offers, palm still on my crown. At this point he’s just trying to messy me up.

“No thanks, I’ll just grab another later if I’m really craving it.” Not having noticed the trance I’ve been in as my hair gets slowly and steadily ruined — it feels nice, okay? — I finally look up at him, cheekily glaring as I manually remove his large hand from me. I add on as I try to repair the frizzy aftermath, “Sick performance, by the way!” 

“You think so?” he beams. Makes me laugh.

“Of course! It looked like you were having a lot of fun.”

Sam’s face is a bit flushed as he takes the compliment, not even trying to hide it; he has a big goofy grin on his face, too.

It drops and Sam looks behind him as a deep voice with a bit of a southern twang booms from one of the aisles nearby. “Samson?”

“Shit, here.”

Sam hurriedly places his coffee into my hand and rushes back near his water bucket, looking around for his manager as he moves. I try to make things less suspicious by pretending to look at some nearby end caps. 

I take a peek over when I hear Sam greet the man, “Hiya! What’s up, Morris?”

Crossing his arms and puffing out his chest to try and make himself look mighty, a man in a navy blue suit, a bright red bow tie, and a poorly-applied black toupee corrects him. “That’s Mr. Saxton, son.” 

I roll my eyes. Awesome to know the guy running this Joja is just as insufferable as the dudes who work on the corporate side.

Sam puts an anxious hand on the back of his neck, and halfheartedly smiles as he apologizes, his speaking patterns much more formal than before. Poor guy… it hurts to see him having to tone it down so much for this dipshit.

I turn my attention back in front of me so as to give him some privacy. Not sure he’d want me to hear him getting his ear talked off.

This display is full of holiday cards... I might as well waste some time with these bad boys. I pick up one with a cartoon beagle wearing a birthday hat on it, stealing a sip of Sam’s coffee as I read the pun on the front: “Have a doggone good birthday!” Alright, nice and cheesy start…

I flip the card open. It starts blaring Baha Men’s “Who Let The Dogs Out.” Fucking hell. Jumpscare me, why doncha! I shudder at how tinny the music sounds — likely made worse by its volume — then close the card and place it back in its spot, not bothering to read more.

“Excuse me, miss?”

I peer over my left shoulder, and see that Mr. Saxton is making his way towards me. A vein is popping in his forehead, but he has a toothy smile on his face that screams customer service. Not sure what’s going on and feeling a little anxious about the situation, I don’t answer with words — I just turn my body to him and watch him expectantly. 

My eyes flicker to Sam real quick, who’s closer to the opposite end of the freezers now. He’s looking over here though, and when his eyes catch mine, he mouths “Go!” and motions his arm towards the front end of the store. Maybe he got caught socializing or something… wouldn’t doubt that there’s probably heavy surveillance in here. Man.

I look back at Sam’s boss as he says, “I’m going to need you to discard your beverage.”

My brows furrow and I tilt my head. “Why?”

Ah, he’s the asking-questions-is-talking-back type: He huffs a deep breath and tilts his head as if to mimic me, clasping his fingers together in front of his ribs. The smile and vein are both still on his face.

“It is not only unacceptable to bring your own food into a grocery store,” he strains, “but I cannot have you spilling your drink all over our products.”

…I haven’t spilled anything. What does he think I am, some crusty little kid? 

Damn, this is bringing out a rage that I haven’t experienced since working behind a Joja desk. I didn’t know I was even capable of it anymore. Must be something about the overstimulatingly bright blues, or the blindingly white strips of lights. Same ones we had above each cubicle in the office.

My anxiety is rapidly replaced with a petty yearn to cause a ruckus as I realize that I don’t work for Joja anymore. I never have to even come here again, actually.

I don’t answer to this fucko! I don’t answer to anyone!

Screw this guy!

Feeling courageous, I put on my own customer service mask as I inquire, “Do you want me to spill this on your products?”

“E-excuse me?!”

I hover the cup near the cards, tilting it a little. Doing a little eyebrow wiggle too for good measure. “It feels like you dooo.”

“I— w-what are you doing?”

Seb would be so proud if he were here. Not sure how Magnus would react, but I’d like to imagine he’d support me too.

Completely on impulse, I bring the cup in front of me and splash a little coffee in the man’s direction instead of the cards’. The now-lukewarm liquid splatters onto the white button-down beneath his jacket and rapidly seeps into the fabric, leaving a light brown, unsightly splotch.

Sick, got him where it hurts and none got on the floor! Less work for Sam!

Making sure my voice is just as cheery as Morris was trying to keep his, I cap this off, “Stop treating your employees like crap and stop treating complete strangers like children, asshole.”

This feels so good. My heart is racing and my pits feel a little moist and I might just end up an anxious mess the second I walk away, but I’ll be damned if this isn’t cool as fuck in the moment. When Leah asked me last week if Magnus ever wanted to go apeshit, it didn’t even occur to me how badly I wanted to go apeshit.

I walk down the nearest aisle as Morris continues sputtering something about me leaving, paying for this, whatever.

Shane’s kneeled down in the middle of the aisle stocking shelves. He faces me for a moment and grins slyly. “That was cool as hell.” Why does this feel so validating? “A woman after my own heart.” 

HUH?

I blink that fucking flashbang away — seriously, the last time I saw him he was still being a dick, and today he’s treating every interaction like we’re fully acquainted, if not more, what the heck — as he turns away to scan items onto the shelf again.

“I really didn’t do much…” I really didn’t. Just kinda caused a minor inconvenience for the guy. 

My hands are shaking though, so it must be catching up to me.

“That still took some balls.” He glimpses at me briefly and adds, “Y’look like you might cry, though. Get outta here before I change my mind about you.”

I huff out a quiet laugh and steady Sam’s — well, my, now — coffee in both hands. “On it, boss.”

[ozzgin]

[Ghost Wizard]

[g1rld1ary]

heart shaped doodles - james potter x reader

wc: 836

summary: you accidentally get given james' essay, covered in doodles with your intials together

me: wrote this in one sitting i love loverboy james!!!!!

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

you were in agonies waiting for your latest potions essay. usually, you had a pretty good grasp of how you were doing academically, but this last project just had you muddled and confused.

the confusion you felt about your essay, though, was completely overshadowed by the utter bewilderment you experienced as you looked down at the piece of paper slughorn had handed you.

all over the heading and through the margins laid doodled hearts, slightly smudged from carelessness. even stranger than the hearts was that your initials sat right in the middle of them, paired with the unmistakable ‘j.p.’.

you quickly paged through the rest of the essay, face draining of colour at the characteristic chicken scratch — and even more so at the clearly accidental inclusion of a page in the middle, filled with doodles and the repeated mantra of ‘mr james’ followed by your last name.

before you could process what you’d just read slughorn snatched the essay out of your hands, booming laugh echoing through the potions classroom.

“sorry about that,” he shook his head as if to reprimand himself, “i must have gotten confused with your initials being all over it.” that got the class’ attention, and several gryffindors craned their necks to catch a glance of the paper as the professor passed.

when slughorn finally made it to james’ desk, dropping the essay down silently, the class erupted into chaos. teasing and heckling ensued as both you and james sunk into your seats, and you were sure your face was the same shade of red as his.

slughorn failed spectacularly at controlling the class after the revelation that the james potter had a crush on you. and not just any crush, a doodle-your-names-together-in-the-margins, down-bad kind of crush. knowing that no more learning was going to happen slughorn dismissed you all, and you had plans to run straight to your dorm and hide there until everyone stopped caring about the whole incident.

remus lupin was immediately at your side, chatting to you about something you weren’t particularly interested in, but you were too polite to tell him of your hibernation plans. you nodded and agreed with him until you were the only ones left in the classroom. apart from james.

you froze, panic overtaking you as you stumbled to put the last of your things in your bag and run when a voice called your name. you knew instantly it was james and turned slowly to face him, forcing yourself to reluctantly make eye contact.

there was still a light dusting of blush above his cheekbones, and the way he was rubbing the back of his neck betrayed his own nervousness.

“hey,” he said, hand clutching the single strap of his bag.

“hi,” you replied, trying to stop your hands from shaking.

“so you, uh, saw my paper?”

“yeah,” you breathed, “um, congrats on the ‘o’ by the way. wish it really was my essay.” james laughed softly at your joke, messing up his hair for something to do.

“i could help you sometime! if you need it, of course.” james cringed at his own reply, the instant realisation that it maybe wasn’t the right thing to say at the moment.

“right,” you trailed off, “well, i’m gonna—”

“wait!” james reached out, a hand catching your bicep lightly. it sent goosebumps up and down the length of your arm. you looked at james expectantly, heart hammering in your chest.

“look, i — fuck. there’s no point pretending we both don’t know now. i really like you. like, an embarrassing amount, as everyone’s discovered today. and i wasn’t gonna do anything about it because i figured you’re so out of my league and aren’t interested, but i suppose i’ve already made a fool out of myself today, might as well full send it. so, what do you say? can i take you out to hogsmeade sometime?”

you pretended to mull it over to give your internal voice time to scream. james potter was without a doubt the hottest guy in school, not to mention smart and funny and good at everything he tried. and he wanted to go out with you! if he wasn’t watching you with anxious interest you thought you might’ve passed out. instead, you played it cool.

“yeah,” you said, smile creeping out despite your best efforts, “yeah, that sounds like fun.”

you almost had to shield your eyes when james beamed, practically its own light source.

“cool!” he said, too loud and fast, “next weekend?” you nodded with almost equal enthusiasm, the two of you sharing the same giggly grins.

behind james you caught a glance of slughorn through the crack in his office door, smiling fondly at the both of you. maybe his slip-up wasn’t so accidental.

“so,” james said, intertwining your fingers boldly as you both turned to leave, “you need me to be your tutor?”

[ijustbewriting]

A man who yearns is a man who earns

Wolfstar X fem!reader

Summary - In which Remus and Sirius quietly ( not really) yearn for the reader

Warnings : none, (delusional Sirius), shy reader I guess

A//N My first Wolfstar fic !

Word count: 1.2k

“ I want her so bad” Sirius groans softly watching as you laugh along with Lily and Marlene. Remus who had been reading had promptly stopped as he had watched his boyfriend look at the girl who they had both been crushing on as of late. You were in the same year as them, a beautiful and smart Ravenclaw who just so happened to waltz in the boys life and change them forever.

“If you keep starting at her she’ll think you’re a creep” Remus tells his boyfriend

“She’ll think about me !” Sirius gasps, Remus shakes his head at his gasp

“ You really need to stop”

“Why won’t she look at us “ Whines Sirius sitting next down next to Remus who was quick to wrap his arm around his waist and pull him closer.

“Don’t know love” He plants a kiss on his neck making Sirius shiver.

“Do you think she even knows our names” The young Gryffindor pouts.

In all honesty Y/N did know Remus and Sirius, how could she not? The famous group, the marauders. Known for pulling pranks and bringing fun to Hogwarts, it was hard to miss such a group.

Remus and Sirius especially, god were they gorgeous. Remus with his beautiful brown eyes that seemed to be lit by the sun itself, his curly hair that was always curled to perfection, his old soul which was so kind and oh Merlin’s beard was he so smart. The few classes she had with him where she would hear him answer the professors question’s correctly and even sometimes add even more information made her Ravenclaw heart swoon.

Sirius Black, oh Sirius Black. He captivated everyone’s heart. His unique grey eyes and long hair, and that smile. That Sirius Black smile. Charming is what he is, suave with his words having anyone flustered and blushing when Sirius would flirt with them. Everyone wanted him or wanted to be him. But only Remus Lupin was lucky enough to have a slice of whatever Sirius was offering but god did he want top give a piece to you.

You the beautiful creature who captured their hearts when Lily walked into the common room that fateful day. You both were working on a project for Potions. Both of them were awestruck by you. Swearing they had never seen someone as beautiful as you. They knew then and there that they wanted you, the question was how?

It seemed like any time that they wanted to see you, you were scurrying away, off to the library, your dorm or somewhere else where they could not reach you.

One time when Sirius was walking with James after heading back from quidditch practice. Then a sudden figure zoomed right past them, it was you. Sirius blinked and he turned to look at you as you left, he wanted to say something but by gods were you quick. As you turned the corner and disappearing from his sight he promptly fell to his knees.

“Come back my love PLE-“

As you had turned the corner, you stopped swearing that you had heard something

“Must of been the wind” you muttered to yourself.

It was not in fact the wind but none other than Sirius Black dramatically on his knees clutching his chest, the other hand reaching out for you.

“Mate get up this is embarrassing” James muttered

Truth is- you’re painfully shy. Having a crush on Remus Lupin and Sirius Black the it couple right next to Lily and James was painful, for so many reasons. One being the most obvious, they’re both together and you were no home wrecker. Two you could not imagine even being friends with them. They were so different from you, in a good way.

While you were more quiet and reserved, staying in your dorm to read and study. You enjoyed your me time more than anything. Parties at Hogwarts were something you rarely attended, given the fact that you didn’t drink or dance. The few times you did go was because a friend’s or Lily had dragged you. You would see both boys at these parties and they were the life of the party there was no way they would look over at you and want you, at least that’s what you’ve told yourself thus far.

It was far from the truth. Remus and Sirius both yearned for you silently or at least remus did, Sirisu was alwasy loud about those he cared about.

But enough was enough, both of them decided that they were going to get your attention one way or another.

As you exited you class, you sighed as you slinged your bag on your shoulder, the bag was heavy a reminder of all the homework you had to do.

"Ok I finish reading chapters one through twenty and then I can start my essay and give my self enough time-" you muttered to yourself but promptly stopped as your eyes landed on two figures. Remus and Sirius. Quickly and without blinking you turned your heel and began to walk the other way.

"No wait- hold on love" you heard Sirius voice as he catched up to you, now this is the one time you cursed Sirius and Remus's great hieght becasue with a couple of strides they had already caught up to you.

"Dove please" Remus said almost pleadingly. The nickname made you stop walking. The boys both next to you.

"Merlin's beard, your worse than a snitch, I don't even think James would be able to catch you" Sirius huffed in light laughter, Remus smiled soflty.

"We've been looking for you " said Remus

"You have?" you responed in a quiet voice

"yes love, for what feels like an eternity-"

"two months" Remus corrected

"felt like forver to me" huffed Sirius his lips almost pouting

"what for?" you ask

"well we wanted to ask you something actually" Remus started

"We want you so bad" blurted Sirius, now that made you completely freeze up.

"Sirius we said we were going slow" hissed Remus, swatting his partner gently on the shoulder.

"I can't- this will not be a slow burn love, I will not allow it" He shakes his head before grabbing your hand.

"Love, please we've been going crazy without you, you drive us insane and we want you in all ways possible, please let us treat you right, we won't ever hurt you and your days will be filled with love and passion-"Sirius's love declaration was cut of by his boyfriend.

"Pads you're scaring her" He says as he had been wacthing your reaction and it was all wide eyed and he wore you had stopped breathing for a moment. Sirius quickly shut up, the quickest Remus had ever seen him. After a moment of silence you finally spoke.

"You want me- you both want me ?" you sputtered finally breathing again

"Most ardently" Remus answered. You look between both boys, whom you've had been crushing onf for so long, who you had never ever in your life believed that they would ever look at you in that way but here they were. Sirius basically on his knees begging you to talk and Remus with his beautiful eyes asking, no pleading for a positive response. You drew in a deep breathe before answering.

"I want you guys too" You confess

"Praise Merlin and David Bowie she said yes Remus!" exclaimed Sirius.

"Yes I heard her love thank you" chuckled Remus who was now looking you fondly. Sirius who was still holding your hand gave it a small squeeze.

"Did you hear how Remus pulled a Mr. Darcy on you "

[jackalope-patronus]

summary :: very very soft smut of virgin Sebastian and MC reader. With plot! With feelings!

warning :: seventh year. Very soft, virgin Sebastian and reader, touching over clothes, dry humping, oral f receiving, raw, references to the angst that happened in the game, purity culture (yes, it's the 1890s), lots of love and fluffy stuff. Also there's a spider bite. Possible mistakes, I wasn’t able to check over the entire thing.

note :: I’m forever a hater of rough smut, ‘you like that, you dirty slut?’ uhm no, why are you calling me names!!

“Sebastian, down here.”

“Found something?”

“There’s a cave connected to her home.”

Isidora Morganach's home, or at least one of her homes. You weren't quite sure. It had plenty of notes and discoveries on her adventures travelling after graduating from Hogwarts, some keepsakes from other countries, and plenty of chests already emptied out. The home was ancient and very worse for wear, the roof had long since cave in, allowing the rain from above to patter against both you and Sebastian. You had spotted a deep cavern within the corner of her living-room. Big enough to fit the both of you.

"After you," said Sebastian, gesturing to the dark, black entrance.

You would've retorted, if you hadn't felt so seriously. It had been two years since you'd dealt with anything related to Isadora and the sudden discovery that one of her homes was merely a broomstick flight away from Hogwarts felt troubling to your intuition.

Sebastian could practically see the tension in your body when you first told him.

"I heard rumours of a home that could've belonged to Isadora nearby the castle."

“Isadora?” He choked on the food he’d served himself.

"Yes. I'm going to go and search it after dinner." Something troubling swirled in your eyes and Sebastian jumped to distract you from it.

"I'll come with you." He said.

"This might be something I'll have to do on my own, Sebastian." You stated. If there was a trial or something related to ancient magic, he wouldn't be able to do anything. Professor Fig never could. You'd be better off alone. 

"You won't even take me as a chaperone?" Sebastian asked, grinning at you. 

It was that grin that had him coming with you to the half rubble household, in the pouring rain, at the dead of night.

Your search was cut short when the moment you reached the end of the slope into the cave, a six legged beast jumped you. You recognised it as a hatchling, small for its kind but big enough to knock you off your feet. You attempted to reach for your wand but the large pincers found your arm, the hollow fangs sinking into your tissue. A sharp wail escaped you as the venom soaked into your muscle.

"Incendio!" The spider was thrown off of you with a quick ball of flame and Sebastian replaced it, kneeling at your side and pulling you up.

"It got me." You hissed, revealing your torn up sleeve. 

He cursed, then took your wrist in his large hand and pushed back the fabric of your sleeve, bringing your numbing arm to his mouth. He latched on before you could quite make sense of his actions, he sucked twice against your raw skin and then spat to the floor next to him. Again, he sucked on the bite then spat out what you hoped was most of the venom, and what looked to be some of your blood, and perhaps some rainwater.

You couldn’t be sure the flush falling over your face was from the venom or not, but the dizziness that followed suggested the first.

Through the haze of the sickening poison flooding your system and the feverish puffs of air you let out, you could hone in on Sebastian’s final part from your irritated skin. A thin, watery string of spit connected him to your arm before it broke and he turned to gauge the effects of the venom on your face.

“Wiggenweld?” You had some faint idea he had said something else, but you weren’t sure.

“My pocket.” You huffed, eye-line peering up at the dark, rocky ceiling dripping rain.

You recalled another flush passing over you, whilst desperate hands pat over your sides, legs and chest. Soon enough, the hands found what they were looking for. After that, a vile pressed to your lips and you felt yourself return to your pained body. Your legs must’ve given out, because Sebastian held you against himself, one hand cupped around your jaw.

“I’m alright.” You croaked, his hold loosening and giving you space. Your stiff legs ached at your weight and you patted your pockets for another wiggenweld potion, but came up empty. You let out a tired groan.

“Let’s head back.” He said. 

"But we've yet to look everywhere." You gazed around the dark and rocky cave, slithers of other spiders echoing through the darkness.

"The house won't be going anywhere, we can come back when you're well again."

Still, you shook your head. “It’s the middle of the night, we’ll surely be caught by some prefect if I’m in this state.”

“It’s worth it, we’ve got to get you another potion and get you right.”

So reluctantly, you let Sebastian help you out of the cave and onto your broom, keeping a weary eye on you until you snuck back into the castle.

Sebastian muttered something about peeves when you entered, your arm around his shoulder and a light hand on your side, keeping you steady as though he was a friend helping you home after a night of drinking. You needed a brewing stand to rid you of this horrid, sickening ache and the fuzziness behind your eyes.

"What in merlin's name..." A nearby wall began to shift, swirls of a door began to form and you had never been so relieved to see the entrance to the room of requirement form for you. It felt like a dear friend coming to your aid. 

"Inside, come on." You ushered, pulling Sebastian along. He held you closer, mumbling 'careful.' at your quickness.

Sebastian sat you down carefully on the closest thing he could, which happened to be a plush settee that you couldn't remember placing when you were last here. Perhaps the room had conjured it up just for you.

"My brewing stand, it should be over there." You blurted.

"You've really decked this place out." He muttered and behind you, you could hear the sizzling of a potion brewing. Sebastian had followed you into the room once or twice before, but not enough to be acquainted to it like you were. An uncomfortable minute passed before Sebastian handed you the potion which spread relief through your body once you drunk it.

He watched your eyes keenly for any haze or sickly glossiness. "Another?" He asked. 

"No I'm alright." You nodded. He sighed thankfully and you smiled at his relief. “I’ve never known you to be the doting type, Sebastian.” You uttered contently, placing down the empty vile.

“Well, you’ve never needed doting.” He rounded the large settee and sat beside you. 

"I never thought you had it in you to be so… gentle."

The word stunned Sebastian, but only for a moment. "Me? Not gentle? How could you ever come to think so low of me?" He jested, an eyebrow raised your way.

"Apologies, I don't know what could've convinced me otherwise." A lot lurked behind your retort, and although you could still see a grin on his face, Sebastian's shoulders deflated. "I'm only joking." You quickly added. "You've always had a soft side, I've been especially reaping the benefits of it in our recent time spent together."

"Well, I'd ought to start treating you well some time in our friendship." He continued, a playfulness added to his somewhat serious statement.

You hummed, although awkwardly. After fifth year, Sebastian had somewhat clung to you. Soloman was dead, Anne had left and his relationship with Ominis had never been so broken. All his time, his loyalty, his effort and his love was directed to you because, plainly, you were the only one who stuck around. You were the only one he'd give it all to, whether you were completely aware of it or not.

So when the two of you tipped around his less than stellar actions towards you, you could see the guilt wrack him. See his regret. Inwardly, Sebastian wished to scrub the memories of his slights against you from your brain. He wasn't that boy anymore. He wasn't so obsessed with finding a cure for Anne, driven by his one-track mind. No, now you had become his obsession. His motivations now revolved around you and he pursued you just as relentlessly as he pursued that cure for Anne, maybe even more so. Perhaps he is the same boy from two years ago.

You glanced at him, his eyes downcast to the marble floor. "I know you always cared for me. Just... Sometimes you had a funny way of showing it." You played with the hem of your skirt, rubbing the fabric between your index and forefinger. "You're a true friend Sebastian, don't doubt that."

"You're one to talk." He suddenly grinned, arm stretching out on the camel back of the sofa, close enough anyone else would consider Sebastian had his arm around you.

"Am I?" You smiled, less wary.

"The entire cohort is deeply in love with you. Perhaps some of the teachers too. I'm sure Professor Wesley would give just about anything to adopt you, and I've never seen Sharp so kind to someone. Truely, it's terrifying."

You shook your head, laughing. "Oh stop, there are plenty who don't like me. What about Imelda?"

"Don't be daft, she'd drop just about anything for you I'm sure." He hummed, smiling at the idea (although it made his affection towards you feel slightly less significant. Still, you were here with him, not Imelda or any other adoring fan you had. That must've counted for something). "You might consider me a charmer, but you're like an Amortentia potion given life."

"Compliments like these are precisely why I enjoy spending time with you Sebastian." You said. Sebastian chuckled lowly.

"Cheeky." He commented.

"So then, can I consider you deeply in love with me too? You did say everyone in our cohort." Daring, but you enjoyed the rush of flirting with Sebastian whenever the opportunity arose.

"Imelda, the teachers, even Ominis and yes, me."

The space between you somehow lessened, the teasing drawing your faces together. In a moment of weakness, yours eyes darted to his smiling lips. He’d caught the glance, igniting a wild tinkle in his eyes. He knew where your thoughts lie and you could see it in the way he looked at you. He took your cheek in his hand and you retracted into nervousness, opening your mouth to say something before Sebastian leaned in to pressed a kiss to your lips.

It felt curt at first, because Sebastian broke away too soon, perhaps because he realised to gravity of his action. But you trailed after him, following his lips and giving him the desire to kiss you again. So he did.

This time, with the assurance of you kissing him back, passion bloomed.

He rested an eager hand on your side, his other still holding your face. His fingers threaded through your hair as his lips pushed into you, with longing and need. It wasn’t messy, nor sloppy, just long moments of intimacy between quick breaths.

After a quick separation, Sebastian dove into you again, furthering his weight into you until you relented and laid back against the sofa, pulling him down with you whilst you kissed.

You utterly lost yourself in the swirls of emotions, drowning in the desire to just be with him, and feel him. It felt hot, light, but above all it felt natural.

Both hands now cupped your sides, pressing you into the pillows. His mouth moved to your cheek, then jaw and you attempted to breath out and slow your racing pulse but the sound that left you was much more vocal than you wanted it to be.

Sebastian stopped and you quickly sobered from the passion. He raised himself off of you, and you jolted up.

He wiped a hand over his mouth. “This is… compromising.” He muttered whilst you were being brought back to the reality of what you were doing.

Kissing Sebastian— kissing anyone!—Alone in a room together, with wandering hands and hot bodies. It was completely and utterly shameful. It wasn’t as though you were innocent children who could get away with linking arms or coupled rendezvous, the two of you were about to graduate and enter ‘proper society’ and however forward thinking the magical word was compared to the muggle word, hooking up with your dearest friend with no ring was still considered dishonourable.

“It is.” You nodded, wide eyed. Would you still be able to wear a white wedding dress after this? Was it allowed? What even was ‘being unclean’? Did making out count? The dizzying feeling returned. All you wanted to do was rewind time and stop yourself from ever making a peep so that Sebastian would’ve continued his journey down your body.

And clearly, Sebastian didn’t want his exploration to end either because his hands lingered around your uniform vest.

“Are you hot?” He asked, eyes dark and utterly taken by you.

“A little, yes.” You nodded, keenly watching his hands encompass the first button.

"May I?"

"Yes." You sighed shakily.

He was slow to thread the black buttons through their slits, opening your chest up to the cool air inside the room of requirement. It seemed the rain had also dampened the fabric underneath the vest, clinging it to your skin. The sight elicited a rough exhale from Sebastian whose reflex was to avert his gaze. He slid the vest off of you and rested his hands at your torso.

"Are you alright?" You asked in hopes to catch his eyes.

"Yes. I'm more than alright, actually." You would laugh if the comment hadn't made goosebumps rise on your skin. He finally returned to face you. “Can I kiss you again?”

“Yes.” You replied, with an embarrassing eagerness.

He returned from where he left you, kissing your jaw and then ear with such lightness it could’ve been a peck from a pixie. You weren’t sure what you expected, but the way he held you cried love and devotion. Treating your skin like porcelain, and your lips like a favourite dessert he needed to savour (lest he never eat it again). You supposed Sebastian would be a fast lover, a man who would take as he desired and give his all.

This was slow, relaxing, gentle and kind. Almost melancholy. As though with every simple kiss he pressed to your lips, he was apologising.

However you were done with apologies from Sebastian. You wanted his love without guilt.

So you took his face in your hands and kept him locked to your lips for a rhythmic kiss which had his hands clenching and his head feeling light from the rush of blood south. Now you could feel him adjusted to you, taking your lead.

Sebastian decided, when you whimpered at the sensation of his tongue sliding across your lip, that this moment would forever vex him during nights of loneliness.

You weren’t sure when, but his hand had found itself on your inner thigh, below the safeguard of your skirt and squeezing your leg in assurance. His thumb dragged over the dip on your stocking, so close to where you longed most.

As your tongue met his in a long swipe, he squeezed you again but this time the squeeze portrayed a promise, that he was going to touch you and draw pleasure from you.

Your heart skipped a beat, and the butterflies became too much to bear.

“Sebastian— I’m, I’m worried.” You gasped, breathing out a shaken breath.

His hands were away from you, almost in an instant and most unfortunately so was his mouth. “Then we should stop.”

“But I—” You couldn’t allow yourself to truely express you wanted more, wanted to continue and be enveloped by him. But he knew, like he always did, what you wanted.

So against his better judgment, Sebastian mumbled a quiet “Sorry.” To your previously untouched maidenhood, then found your body with his lips again.

He needed this. He loved you too much to stop.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” You asked meekly, as he kissed and sucked at the skin that peaked from your collar.

“I can’t say I’m experienced, but I know what I want to do.”

“What’s that?” You dared to inquire.

“Show you how dear you are to me.”

You whispered a too-soft 'okay' before laying down on your back, like a cat showing its belly to signify its trust. The gesture and the sight of you sprawled out for him, made Sebastian grab his clenched jaw and hide the red settling under his freckles.

You could see a reservation form— or perhaps it was an anxiousness to please swirling in his eyes. You couldn’t tell, but he watched you intensely as his hand traveled down, past your beating chest, over the knobs of your ribs until he dived under your skirt and made his stop at where you burned for him.

His thumb glided over your core and the space between you two felt as though you were on a stage and Sebastian was the only audience member. You had gasped and excitement flickered in his dark eyes. Again, he dragged his thumb over you but with more weight and your previous gasp turned into a whimper. You held onto him, pulling him down into you to avoid his excited stare. His body blanketed you, his scent enveloping you along with the masculine weight of him.

You could feel his hand shift, dulled by the fabric of your stockings then the force of his palm rub against your clothed bundle of nerves. Your legs attempted to close at the sensation, but Sebastian's body kept them open to him. Your chest pounded uncomfortably, so fast and so heavy with the weight of your first-time arousal.

His lips locked to your neck again, his free hand pulling at your tie and unbuttoning the first button on your blouse. Now he kissed a lower, new, more sensitive territory. He moved to the second button and you thought it was impossible for your chest to thud any faster until his wet lips reached a particular sweet spot between your shoulder and neck whilst his other hand worked your sex.

“My heart.” You whimpered, tugging at his robe. His hand halted, resting around your thigh. The sigh he exhaled lingered on the skin of your neck before he leaned to press his ear against your chest.

He listened for seconds, long enough for your fingers to find their way to his hair. You hadn’t realised he held stiffness until his body relaxed into you at the tender rake of your nails through his soft brown locks.

“I’m sorry, I can’t control my nerves.” You said, catching your breath and willing your anxious heart to slow.

“Don’t be.” He countered, lifting his head from your thudding chest. “I’m affected by all this, too.” He took your hand and pressed it into his chest. You quickly felt the thick beats of his pulse, in a rhythm that easily matched your own.

He returned to lay over you, between your legs, with his head beside your own. You clung to his body that draped over you like a blanket along with his wet, wood smell that you'd only ever caught brief whiffs of before this. You felt guilty, leaving all the pleasing to him, especially since he'd been so kind to your hesitations. "I'm sorry. I'm not doing much, am I?"

"Is sorry your favourite word, love?" He asked, his warm hand caressing your cheek. "You deserve someone doing something to please you for once. Besides, your little sounds are doing enough for me as it is."

You pushed a hand to his face, covering the grin that turned you a deep plum shade. He chuckled and kissed your palm. "And what of you, Sebastian?" The kisses began to lead up your arm but you stopped him. "Sebastian."

"Your selflessness never retires, does it?"

You ignored him, propping yourself up to loosen his tie in a simple show that now, it was his turn. You did so smoothly and so gently that it made Sebastian's jaw tighten. You tossed it to the pile where your vest lay, then moved to his robes, sliding them off him. His expression seemed hard, annoyed almost but you continued. He took your wrist only when your fingers edged to undo his third button.

"Don't do this for me." He muttered, clearly thousands of thoughts buffering his mind, but that horrid guilt resurfaced on his face.

"For you?" You somewhat gaped. He must truly think of you as a saint (a push-over, but a saint) to believe you so innocent in your motives. "Not for you. With you, Sebastian." The words were enough to ease his hold on your wrist, so you continued.

Just as Sebastian, you had little to no experience on any sexual matters. You were hardly familiar with your own body, let alone a male's. So ever the improviser, you lifted yourself over him and sat gently, feeling the poke of his arousal against you. You shivered, and had to look away from him for a brief moment.

His hands snapped to your hips, and he looked at you with some kind of warning in his eyes. Tread carefully. The look said.

With Sebastian below you, you finally got a clean look at him; red lips, flushed face, rustled hair. You'd never seen him in such a state. It allowed you to understand why he enjoyed watching you whilst touching your most sensitive area.

With your hands on his chest for balance, you gently swayed your hips against him. His fingers curled around you, his knuckles blanching, and he let out a grunted curse that melted your insides to molten.

Again you moved against him, finding your own pleasure in the movement, prompting you to do it again. Sebastian was unravelling beneath you, eyes creased shut with his head thrown back and mouth letting out choked moans.

You began to notice Sebastian's hips joining you, rolling up with a feverish need. You dipped down to him, deciding the space was too much. His arms envelop you in a strong hug, tightening when you began to leave kisses across his skin.

“Does it feel good?” You asked insecurely whilst already knowing the answer.

“Hng— yes.” He nodded desperately.

The following exchange between you two was nothing more than writhing bodies, quiet moans and shallow breaths.

At some point, appearing fed up with your pace and control, Sebastian had shifted you off him and to his side, where he then mounted you. Finding his rightful place between your legs and returning his core to yours, grinding against you in a manor that reminded you what was to come once the layers between you were gone.

It made your insides plea for him, his hand. Anything.

So you took his face, and guided it back to your lips. It was messier now, not fast or rough, just messy as his mind strayed between his deep rolls against you and the way your tongue met his bottom lip.

But he stoped, retracting his hips but not yet his mouth. You broke from him first.

"Sebastian." His name was a plea, a whine against loosing the sensation of him finding friction against you.

"If we continue like this, I... I won't last. You should find your release before it's over."

You wondered how Sebastian might've known you were even capable of climax, then consider what other kinds of books were available in the restricted section of the library he might've come across. The thought didn't linger in your mind for too long, because he had sat up and had begun removing your stockings.

"Sebastian..."

The familiar sound of your nervous unease halted him.

"Just don't stare." You asked, looking away from the sight of him undressing you.

"Of course." It was a shotty promise, but you allowed him to take off your puffy drawers and settle over you again. He kissed your lips briefly, then your cheek, jaw, neck, collarbone and the plush of your breast that peaked from your halfway unbuttoned blouse.

You gazed up at the ceiling you'd designed two years ago, finding comfort in its familiarity. You wondered briefly that if you had told your younger self that Sebastian Sallow would one day see you half undressed, flushed with lust and be kissing his way down your ribs, abdomen and stomach until he reached your sex, what she might say. You had some faint idea, younger you would've responded with "Sounds about right."

The kiss he pressed against your knee was unhurried and deliberate, even more-so was the one he pressed to your inner thigh. When his mouth finally found you it drew a sharp intake of breath from your chest, suspended in the heavy quiet of the room.

Your hands, awkward and alone, grabbed at your skirt and shirt, clenching the fabric until your knuckles went white. One of them instinctually reached for his hair when his hot, wet tongue slowly swiped you for the first time. Another gasp joined the symphony of echoed silence, aside for the occasional rustle of clothes.

His tongue explored you carefully and too light but with each vocal exhale or quick tug at his hair the experimental licks became sure as he uncovered what made you react the most.

You could feel a simple quake in his hands as they held your thighs open and your trembling body steady. You reached to the fingers that created craters in your flesh, brushing across them in a plea for him to hold your hand. And he did.

You had never imaged it could feel like it did, so warm, so encompassing, so vulnerable yet so rewarding. It was all utterly overwhelming. You couldn't think of anything else other than the sensations. His wet tongue sliding across your nerves, the softness of his chestnut brown hair, the puffs of his hot exhales against your skin and the loving hold of his hand.

The builds of pleasure had begun to undeniably form, and the incoming reality that Sebastian would made you climax quickly sent a storm of butterflies within your stomach.

"I think I'm close." You uttered.

Sebastian's eyes fluttered at your heavenly admission, but he didn't allow the swirling of pride in his chest to sway him from your pleasure. His tongue and mouth moved with such deliberate care, that you whimpered to consider how much he must've loved you, to want care for you this way. No, Sebastian was not a fast lover by any means.

The building peaked, until it snapped and you unravelled. Sebastian had known it by the shiver that ripped through your body and the way your fingers tightened almost painfully around his hair. All that, and the moan you let out was the loudest you'd made yet.

You felt the warm cavern of his mouth seperate from you however you were well past the point of reaction as you sobbed and gasped for oxygen to feed your rapturing heart.

Sebastian's eye's glazed over your now glistening skin "You finished." He stated, almost asking in such bewilderment. You didn't reply, still catching your breath. He picked you up from your weak lay on the sofa and pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly.

You wondered when he kissed you, if that sweet tang on his tongue was the taste of you.

The intimacy lingered, guiding you into a heat you didn't expect so soon after your peak. Your hand reached the rim of his trousers, index finger curling around his belt and ever so lightly tugging at it.

Sebastian seemed to hesitate, separating from your lips and gazing at you. “We can stop here. There's no rush—” he began, his voice low and warning, but you silenced him with a soft shake of your head.

“I don't want to stop,” you whispered, the words shaky but certain. The way his breath caught at your words sent warmth bloating your chest.

His hug around you faded as he fumbled with the button of his trousers, his hands trembling slightly as his usual confidence slipped for a vulnerable kind of focus.

Your gaze rose at the ceiling instinctively, to avoid an image so lewd your heart might explode.

He leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours again. The kiss was softer now, as if trying to calm both of your nerves. “It’s just me. You don’t have to be nervous.”

“I’m not,” you lied, the tight weakness in your throat betraying you.

Sebastian smiled, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “I think you are,” he countered, “but that’s alright. This is... I’m nervous too.”

“You don’t seem it,” you admitted, and he let out a breathy laugh.

“I’m good at pretending,” he confessed, his tone light but honest. He kissed you again, slower this time, and the warmth of his lips helped steady you.

As he positioned himself, his movements slowed, almost hesitant. His brow furrowed slightly as though searching for the right way to proceed. “If it hurts, or if you want me to stop, you’ll tell me?”

You nodded.

When he began to push forward, he braced himself with a groan you only recognised Sebastian let out when he'd been in pain, though this was something else entirely. The exhale that followed seemed to have winded him. It was as though sliding into you was like sliding into some exquisite oil.

Despite what you might've expected, no pain flooded your body. There was an uneasy pressure, but no incredible discomfort. As his size slid across your nerves you couldn't help the sharp intake of air through your teeth

Sebastian froze immediately. "Too much?" He asked.

"No," you managed, although sounding as if you were holding back a sob, "It's just.. new." His shoulders sagged with relief.

You shifted beneath him, angling your hips instinctively, and the change made him groan, his head dropping to your shoulder. “Gods, you feel… perfect,” he muttered, his voice muffled against your skin.

He halted a slow jut into you, experimenting with each gentle motion, balancing his desire with your comfortability. That uneasy tightness had lifted almost completely as he massaged your insides, spreading a melting warmth that eased any tension in your mind.

His name fell from your lips and it shattered what composure he had left. "Does it feel better now?" Although the question sounded worried for you, Sebastian wanted more, to go further and harder and needed the permission from your pleasure.

"Yes," you gasp, "Its— ah— Sebastian it's so much better."

Now he had a newfound confidence and his movements grew surer but still achingly gentle.

It was all becoming smoother, more instinctive, and you found yourself matching him, your hips rising to meet his. He groaned at this. The sensation of him filling you, of your bodies moving in perfect sync, was intoxicating. You could feel his hands sliding up your sides, his touch gentle yet tight as he held you close.

The feel of him gliding inside you, slowly and shallowly pleasing you send spark dancing underneath your skin and another tension, similar to the one you felt with Sebastian's mouth around your sex, although not the same, began to build. “Sebastian,” you gasped, your voice laced with urgency. “I—”

“Just a little more,” he coaxed, remaining loyal to the kind rhythm of his thrusts. “I can feel it, too.”

You held yourself together for only a moment longer, unravelling too soon and too fast. This one was intense, flooding your body and contracting your muscles, even the ones that surrounded Sebastian. It had pushed him over the edge, too.

A warmth flooded you and the hands clutching his back became sharp nails digging into his shirt and skin. You didn't forget the way he moaned at the rake. Both of you shuddered, Sebastian at finding his release inside you and you feeling it merge with the aftershock of your own climax.

For a moment, there was only the sound of your breaths mingling in the stillness, the world outside forgotten. Sebastian lowered his forehead to yours and collapsed breathless at your side.

You could've drifted off into a deep slumber, you might've for a single moment, if Sebastian hadn't removed his blanket of warmth by lifting himself from the sofa. He took his robe off the pile of strewn bits of clothing, and draped it over you.

Through tiredly lidded eyes, you heard the rustle of clothing as he buttoned up the loose pieces hanging off him.

"Sebastian?" You weren't done basking in the aftercare yet.

"I'm going to brew the potion."

"Potion?"

"A... preventative."

You sat up. "Preventative?"

Although he'd been deep inside you just a moment ago, he attempted to avoid crudeness. "To, you know, stop you from being.. with child."

You weren't sure if you should laugh, or freak out, so an odd mix between the two emotions emitted from you. "Sebastian how do you know so much about all this?"

"Why? Did my skills exceeded your expectations that much?"

"Please, be serious," you begged.

"Well, you know how much I like to read." He seemed to shy from the confession. "After a while, one gets curious about certain things and... as for the potion, I found it in a book about married couples. Said it was 'to only be used to prevent further conception after having too many children' although I think we can bend the rules for this occasion."

"Children? Oh merlin, what have we done." The afterglow had faded too soon and you were left with the cries of a culture that told you sex before marriage was unacceptable. "I'm going to have to wear a black wedding dress..." You despaired.

Sebastian only laughed.

"Don't laugh! I'll have to lie to my future husband, and—"

"I'll be marrying you," he stated, as though you were slow for not already knowing this.

"What?"

"Love, don't think for a moment I'd let you share yourself with me like this and not marry you," any words you could've hoped to say were buried deep in your pit of a gut, "besides, I've always thought you looked quite pretty in black."

You weakly laughed, the other option being to cry from overwhelm of it all.

"I'll tell you a secret though—we're quite late to the party."

"What do you mean?"

"Weasley, Prewett and Plummly."

"You're joking." You gaped, "with who?"

"None of them will tell. Suppose they might be lying, though I'm sure I did spot Weasley snogging a Hufflepuff once. Might've been her."

"Huh." You supposed that if you had to have guessed, Garreth Weasley would've been the first name you called.

"Pretty sure word got out about it too, that's why he's been in detention for so long. The teachers can't prove it happened, but they can still punish him for it."

So that's why you hadn't seen Garreth as often anymore. With his aunt as a teacher, she'd surely be on his tail about anything scandalous. Then stress twanged your heart.

"What if someone finds out about us, about tonight?"

"They won't."

"What if they do?"

His mouth quirked into a half-smile, equal parts reassuring and mischievous. “We’d get scolded, thrown in detention, and likely forced to marry sooner than we’d like. Expulsion would be threatened, but I reckon most of the professors have enjoyed watching our so-called ‘budding romance.’ I’d wager they’d let it slide.”

"Professor Wesley would have you strung up by your ears for taking me to bed," you muttered, finding humour in the image, but also horror in the truth of it. "Oh Merlin she'd be so disappointed in me..."

"You're right," he muttered with an exaggerated sigh, "if it was Ominis who'd taken you, she'd be so much happier."

You couldn't help the laugh that left you, or how it quickly dissolved into a groan. "Sebastian please, I— what if this was a mistake?"

His amusement faded and he softened. "Think for one moment, with no one else's judgement, did it feel like a mistake?"

"No..."

“You think I’d do this with anyone else?” he continued, his voice softer now. “That I’d risk everything—us—for something fleeting?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sebastian let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Merlin, you really don’t give me enough credit, do you?”

“It’s not that,” you protested weakly.

“Then what is it?” he pressed, his gaze intent but not unkind.

"You're not just saying all this to make me feel better, are you? To make me think you want me?" The words felt stupid the moment they left your mouth.

Sebastian blinked, stunned into silence for a moment before a laugh—warm and disbelieving—escaped him. “You’re daft if you think I’d ever not want you. Have you met me?”

You swatted at his arm halfheartedly, your cheeks burning. “This is mortifying.”

“Mortifying?” He scoffed, pulling you closer. “The only thing mortifying about this is how much I love kissing you, everywhere. Truely, I won't be able to think about another thing."

"If we get married, I think I'll die of a heart attack."

"Not if, love, when."