I NEEDED THIS—

rain and regret ~ loki x f! reader

This fic is part of the In sickness and in health series! Where a lot of different favorite characters take turns to take care of you. 🧻🌡️🩹

masterlist faq

A/N; He's so fucking dramatic AAAAAAAAAA he's acting like you got the damn plague or something awful of the sort.

minors dni. i am not responsible for what you consume.

do not copy, translate or claim any of my stories as your own.

The rain starts suddenly, tapping gently on the floor-to-ceiling windows of the lounge. You glance up from your coffee. Thor notices the gleam in your eyes before Loki even lifts his head.

“No,” Loki says immediately.

“Yes,” you say, already standing.

Thor beams. “A storm! I shall join you!”

Loki groans, setting down his book. “You’re not children.”

You spin toward him at the door, dripping anticipation and glee. “Says you, the literal God of Mischief.”

Thor lets out a booming laugh. “She has you there, brother!”

Loki’s eye twitches.

“I wreak controlled mischief,” he mutters, folding his arms tighter. “Not puddle-soaked madness.”

You don’t even reply—you just sprint into the rooftop garden barefoot, arms open, hoodie bouncing, socks already soggy, Thor thundering after you.

The sleek stone paths are quickly covered in puddles, the air smells like ozone, and your laughter echoes through the Tower.

Thor crashes out behind you, shouting war cries as you chase him in circles through the wet grass and stone. You slip once—catch yourself and cackle like an absolute menace.

From the doors, Loki watches.

Arms crossed. Jaw tight. His silhouette sharp in the dim interior light.

“Absolutely unhinged,” he mutters. “Someone electrocuted her brain as a child.”

Eventually, soaked to the bone and breathless from laughter, you came stumbling back inside, trailing muddy footprints and giggling like you’d just outrun death.

Loki was waiting.

He didn’t say anything. Just walked forward, placed a towel on your head like a parent too tired to scold, and started patting your arms dry with another one.

“Happy?” he asked flatly.

“Ecstatic,” you beamed.

“Moron,” he replied gently.

Thor just let out a deep, satisfied sigh and said, “That was magnificent.”

“I swear to the Nine, if you fall ill—”

“I won’t,” you say, too fast.

He narrows his eyes. “You will.”

Later...

The room is dark and quiet. The rain still whispers against the windows.

You’re curled up in bed, shivering under layers of blankets, a tissue clutched in one hand and a cup of barely-sipped tea on the nightstand.

“I told you not to go out in the rain,” Loki says, arms folded, his voice sharp—defensive. But underneath it: worry.

“I was out there for five minutes,” you rasp.

You try to laugh. It comes out as a cough. Loki’s eyes flash with alarm.

Without another word, he kneels by the bed, his tone shifting from annoyed to concerned beyond comprehension.

“You mortals are so… fragile.” He brushes a strand of damp hair from your forehead, frowning. “Is this… normal? To look like you’ve been cursed by a frost giant and then claim you’re ‘fine’?”

You manage a weak smirk. “It’s just the flu, Your Highness.”

He glares at you, then stands and swishes his hand—suddenly the tea is steaming hot again, the pillows fluffier, the blanket heavier.

“Better,” he declares, smoothing the blanket over your chest. “You will rest. You will drink. You will not die of this absurd condition, or I swear I will enchant your immune system myself.”

“Is that a thing?”

“For you? I’ll make it a thing.”

Later, when you drift into a fitful sleep, Loki doesn’t leave.

He sits beside you, conjuring small spells of cooling mist for your forehead, whispering in Old Norse to soothe your dreams. When you stir, eyes hazy, he leans down and murmurs, barely audible:

“You must recover. I am not yet done loving you.”

The hallway is quiet.

Dimly lit by warm sconces and the faintest shimmer of magic, it feels like a dream as you step out, the blanket draped around your shoulders trailing behind you like a cape. You’re barefoot. Sniffling. Half-asleep. But your body noticed his absence, and that was enough to rouse you.

“Loki?” your voice is hoarse—barely above a whisper, soft like cracked porcelain. You sound like a Victorian ghost haunting the corridors of her lover’s estate.

You catch him off guard.

He’s seated on the floor, leaning against the wall, knees drawn up, a hand over his mouth. But not fast enough.

You see it. The shine in his eyes. The way he quickly wipes his cheeks with the heel of his palm, trying to make it look effortless. Like he wasn’t crying in the hallway over you.

“What are you doing out of bed?” he asks, standing swiftly, voice low and tight. “You shouldn’t be up.”

You shuffle toward him, blanket still wrapped around your shoulders. “What are you doing crying in the hallway?”

He falters.

“I’m just…” he swallows, hands twitching at his sides. “Worried. That’s all, my love.”

You blink at him, voice raspy as you deadpan, “Dude. It’s the flu. I’m not dying.”

He exhales a breathy, incredulous laugh—but there’s no mockery in it. Just relief. Just you. Standing there like a sleepy little gremlin, dragging your blanket like a train.

“I know that,” he says softly. “But it’s never... just the flu when it’s you.”

You step into him. He immediately wraps his arms around your shoulders, blanket and all. You melt into his chest like he’s gravity.

“I’ve seen gods fall,” he murmurs, lips brushing the top of your head. “But nothing ever felt as terrifying as watching you burn up and not being able to stop it.”

You tilt your head up, brow bumping his chin.

“You big softie.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” he mumbles into your hair. “It’ll ruin my brand.”

You smile.

“I’ll take it to the grave,” you whisper, before pulling him back toward the room. “Now come on, I need you to warm my feet before I freeze to death.”

You shuffle back to bed wrapped in your blanket like a burrito, sniffling but victorious for having made it down the hall and emotionally checked on your God of Meltdowns.

Loki helps you ease under the covers without a word, conjures a mug of tea with a flick of his fingers, and gently places it in your hands.

“Small sips,” he murmurs, crouching at the edge of the bed like a healer at your feet.

You raise a brow at him over the rim of your cup. “What, no lecture this time?”

His eyes flick to yours. “I think you’ve suffered enough.”

He says it lightly, but there’s something heavy in his voice.

You just drink your tea—warm, minty, a little sweet. He vanishes beneath the blankets to press his fingers around your feet. With a quiet spell, heat radiates gently through them.

You hum in response.

He gives a quiet snort, and then he’s moving again—slipping into bed on the other side of you, pulling you back against his chest in one slow, protective motion. His arms curl around your middle, locking you in like you’re the last thing holding him together. You don’t resist.

His forehead presses into the curve of your shoulder.

You breathe. He breathes with you.

His magic flickers again—faint, warm, steady. A soft buzz at your sternum, like he’s trying to anchor himself to the rhythm of your heartbeat.

You wake up in the middle of the night, groggy and flushed. You’re not burning up, but you’re hot enough to feel gross, and the congestion has hit full force.

You let out a few rough coughs—not violent, but deep enough that your chest aches a little.

Loki stirs immediately beside you. He sits up halfway, one hand braced on the bed, the other gently touching your back.

“You’re alright?” he murmurs, sleep-rough and tense.

You nod weakly, coughing into the crook of your arm. “Just… stuffy. Gross.”

He watches you like he’s trying to read your pulse with his eyes alone. Then he exhales, brushing your hair from your forehead.

“Please don’t do that again,” he whispers. “Don’t go out in the rain like that. Don’t—don’t scare me like this.”

You blink at him. “Loki, I’m okay. It’s just a cold.”

“I know,” he says. But he doesn’t sound convinced. “I know.”

And then he lies back down and pulls you to him anyway, like he still needs proof that you’re alive and warm and real.

He presses his forehead to yours, eyes closed, like he’s trying to draw breath from you. As if your existence is what’s holding him together.

You fall asleep like that, wrapped in his arms, his magic pulsing faintly against your back.

I hope you enjoyed this as much as I've enjoyed writing it! If you need more comfort fics, check out the series linked at the top!

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okay I just finished binge reading this series and I'm seriously in love,,, this somehow managed to bring me all the way back into my harry potter phase holy shit

Healing Heart ✧ Draco x Reader Mini-Series PART 10 - FINAL (a yr later)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8 | PART 9

Summary: PART 10 ! of Draco accidentally falling in love with reader during his sixth year (HBP) and going into the start of the battle of Hogwarts hoping to have reader by his side at the end of it now that it's all over.

Warnings: ANGST, crying, mentions of; blood, torture, abuse, war, death, murder, trauma basically everything violent :(

Words: 10.8K i apologize for any mistakes !

A/N: surprise :)

“It’s in Carrow’s office?” He asked, his nose instinctively scrunching when he said his name as if it disgusted him to even mention the man. You nodded as a wordless response in fear that Draco would be able to hear the slight tremble in your voice after a lump at the back of your throat had begun growing at the thought of going back to that awful place. It clouded your mind with darkness and echoing screams of pain as Bellatrix sat over you with her nails piercing into your skin while she demanded answers from you that you refused to give her.

You were silent as you trailed behind him, eyes trained on the top of his muddy silver hair with him nearly pulling you by your hand from how sluggishly you were dragging your feet up the stairs to the floor where everything truly went up in flames. It was almost as if he could sense your distress when you finally reached the undesired floor because as soon as you stepped foot onto the gravel and dirt-filled stone, his arm was wrapping itself snugly around your waist as he leaned over you to press a soft kiss into your temple.

"I'm sorry," he mutters quietly while his mouth was still beside your ear.

"For what?" You respond just as faintly.

"For what they did to you." He stops you in the middle of the corridor, his eyes darting towards the end of it where the office was just around the corner. "If I knew, Merlin I'd-“

"You didn't know," you frown, interrupting him as soon as you noticed his brow starting to furrow. "And it's done with now. Besides, I finished what he couldn't."

"Yes, you did." He answers with a fleeting small smile, a hidden proudness behind his words even though he half-heartedly tried to hide it. "But that still doesn't make it alright. Are you sure you're okay being here?"

You let out a deep breath before nodding up at him, forcing on a brave face so that this would be over with and you'd be reunited with your wand and on to face the next challenge that was waiting for you on the main floor.

"I'm fine, let's go," you say quickly. You grab onto the sleeve of his dress shirt and continue down the hall with him, entirely oblivious to the large statue standing tall at the far end of the way, right outside the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room. Hanging upside down from the top of the statue by a thick piece of rope was Amycus, bloodied and bruised and very obviously frustrated. You didn't see him, but Draco did, and before you could notice the presence of the man who has shaken your reality with desolation and agony, you were being moved hastily towards the door of the room where your wand was lost in.

"I'll meet you inside, give me a second," he urged as he opened the door for you and continued to gently try to shove you inside. You turned to give him a questioning look, wondering why he unexpectedly was becoming so antsy in getting you inside. He stared back at you with a feeble pout and his eyebrows creased, a clear sign that whatever he was up to; he didn't want you to be around for it.

"Fine," you mumbled, forcing yourself into the poorly lit room to begin your search.

It felt sickening and nauseating being in the room again. Images of the painful night passed by in your head like a nightmare that you were made to relive as soon as you walked in. You wanted to reach out for Draco again, looking back towards the doorway where you thought he would be standing but he wasn't and the room felt emptier than it did before. You walked towards the door, holding on to the stone wall to keep you from collapsing and peeking out from behind it to see if you could spot the waves of silver hair nearby doing whatever it was that he was so adamant about keeping hidden from you.

You watched as he walked down the corridor briskly, wholly focused on something or rather someone as he moved like he was on a mission with his wand gripped tightly in his right hand.

Draco swore he was seeing red blind his vision, rage coursing through his veins as he came closer to the hanged man. He squatted down in front of him when he finally reached him, his forearms resting over his knees and twiddling around his wand in his hands with the utmost feeling of satisfaction from the sight in front of him.

The man who constantly berated and belittled him and his family, the man who made it his goal to make his life a living hell inside and out of Hogwarts, and worst of all, he was the same man who tortured and kidnapped his lover on multiple occasions now. The man who went out of his way to ruin people.

He was nothing but a fragment of what he was only hours ago, defeated and physically almost unrecognizable if it wasn't for his murderous beady eyes and permanently scowling mouth.

"What? Are you going to kill me now, boy?" Amycus questioned sarcastically. "Everyone knows you're too weak. Go ahead, prove them wrong."

:readmore:

He gave in to the itching to press his wand against Carrow’s throat, letting the hawthorn tip dig harshly into his artery. The killing curse was ready to roll off his tongue and put an infinite end to the destruction Amycus brought. He wanted it more than anything, to be the one who took him out, but as the idea became more realistic with each passing millisecond and with his hand starting to tremble, he knew he couldn’t do it. It didn’t matter how much he wanted to, how much he deserved it; he couldn’t.

“I knew you couldn’t,” Amycus croaked once Draco’s wand moved away from his throat.

“I’m not like you,” he mutters bitterly. “I’m not a murderer.”

“You’re right,” Carrow responds coldly. “You’re nothing. You’re a blood traitor, you're weak."

Amycus' words were a broken record to him, the same phrases being repeating over and over again like a never-ending torturous cycle of all his biggest insecurities enlaced within a few remarks. If it was a year ago, maybe even a few months ago, or weeks - he would have believed his insults. Just like he always did when they were fired at him, he doubted himself and his character, his strength and skills. But he was growing tired of giving in to his struggles, of giving in to false beliefs.

"Is blood traitor the only insult anyone's got?" The classic sneer on Draco's face was one he always used to wear, his blood boiling even further as he stared down at Amycus' careless expression. Even if he was hung upside down, body battered and bruised, his evil spirits never left him.

"It's the only one that matters," he replied. "You think you got yourself all sorted out now? You think those people down there would welcome you with open arms knowing where your family's loyalties lie? You're looking for someone to blame for your troubles, blame that foul muggle-loving darling of yours. I was only ever trying to help you."

"Help?" He let out a disbelieving scoff mixed with a short chuckle, "is that what you call threatening the lives of the people I love?"

As you watched from afar, gnawing at your bottom lip anxiously while grasping the doorway in fear that in any second the script could flip and it would be Draco who was in danger. You wanted to intervene, you could see Carrow's eyes darting around the corridor, switching gazes between you and the blond raging over him and you were scared that evil would conquer and he'd somehow find a way to hurt the two of you without either of you expecting it.

"It doesn't matter what I tell you anymore, you're lost."

It was Carrow's sheer tone of confidence that pushed Draco over the edge he was teetering off of. He stood up from his kneeling position without wasting another breath. Amycus Carrow was purely wicked and there was no point in trying to make conversation with him.

The interaction just solidified Draco's wrath, and though he refused to kill him, he wasn't past causing him pain and he wasn't above using the Death Eater's body as a receiving end to his crucio. His time with the enemies did increase his power and his effectiveness. He didn't even have to say the spell or force his will to do it, it just flowed from the tip of his wand and seeped itself deep within Carrow's body. He made sure to wordlessly use the 'oscausi' spell before his torment as well, glad to see Amycus' mouth disappearing and shutting him up before his agonizing screams met your ears, something he didn't want you to hear no matter how much this monster deserved it.

He continued his torture until he was pleased; until he saw tears of blood escaping beady eyes and defeat completely wash over the man. Draco lowered his wand, letting out a breath of relief and eyeing the disaster in front of him again. Amycus thrashed around, his momentary defeat fading away as his swinging body attempted to break free but the younger Death Eater wasn't finished either.

He lifted his knee, the Italian leather shoes he wore were the last thing Amycus saw that day before Draco slammed his foot down onto his face with a powerful kick, knocking him out cold and fast. He checked for a pulse, found a weak one, and nodded to himself with satisfaction.

That was enough for him.

When he turned back on his heels to rush down the hall, he wasn't expecting to see you standing at the end of it where he purposefully hadn't left you. He briefly stopped in his steps, watching you cautiously to see if what you caught had bothered you, but it didn't. You briskly began walking towards him, his body still in a bubbling rise of fear until you were in front of him wrapping your arms tightly around his middle. You felt him relax in your touch, his hands smoothing over your lower back and encircling around your hips.

"I'm sorry you had to witness me like that," he apologizes with pained eyes. "I just had to make him hurt."

"I understand, Draco," you sympathize with his revenge. Although you didn't particularly enjoy seeing your lover so violent, Amycus was someone whose downfall had been long overdue.

Draco walked with you into the dingy office, the stone floor covered in hundreds and thousands of tiny gravel particles that shook from the ceilings with each hit the castle took from the outside. You heard a muttered 'Lumos' coming from the blond, the majority of the room now all of a sudden glowing with a cold white light, flashes of your last moments in there flickering across your mind like a nightmare you couldn't escape now that everything was becoming visible. You took a deep breath, moving forward hesitantly in short scuffles around the area you saw your wand discarded when it was taken from you.

It was hard to look around, the flood of emotions almost running completely through you as tears pooled in your eyes faster than you could try to blink them away. You were positive Draco couldn't see you or hear the small sniffles you were trying to play off by talking about how dusty it was, but he was too observant and never dumb when it came to you.

He sighed to himself, his heart dropping to his stomach slightly when he saw how your gaze shifted around the room and the floor anxiously as though you were reliving whatever you had gone through in those moments when he couldn't save you. He reached out for your hand, his cold fingertips brushing against your palm and snapping you out of the daze you were in with a small almost inaudible gasp. He gently tugged you behind him, lowering his wand towards the ground and kicking around some of the debris until he finally saw the familiar wand he loved to see in your hands.

"There," he announces quietly, bending down to pick it up and dust it off on his dress shirt as if dirt had never bothered him in his life. "Back where it belongs." He places it into your palm carefully, your hand encircling around the wand tightly and holding it against your chest lovingly as if it was alive. He smiled down at you, his hand reaching up to rest on the back of your hair while he gingerly pressed a kiss onto your forehead.

"Thank you."

"Nothing to thank me for, darling," he responds softly.

He took your hand again in the direction of the exit, hurrying you out of the room in quick strides until you were out into the corridor and around the corner leading you to the grand staircases.

He hesitated at the first step that would begin the descent to the first floor where the entirety of Hogwarts was gathered in the Great Hall all injured, dead, or alive. He was getting a sudden rush of fear, the same unease repeating in his head that you had already tried to hush away but it still stayed. He didn't want to be turned away and he didn't want to feel outcasted anywhere anymore.

"They're never going to forgive me. They'll probably cast me outside directly into the line of fire themselves."

"Draco," you say softly, placing a gentle palm on his cheek while your fingers brush away the wavy strands hanging over his red-tinged eyes. "In all honesty, it doesn't matter what they think. They don't know you or understand you, just what you've done and that's all most of them will ever be able to see. But as long as you know and the people you love know who you are, that's all that matters. Besides, you're not alone anymore. You're stuck with me."

An amused airy sort of half-laugh escaped his lips, a small smile on his face as he eyed you, the sight in front of him allowing another exhale of relief from his worries.

"You say that like it's a bad thing." You feel his fingers graze against your open hand, his pinky absentmindedly linking around yours like you were children making a silent promise to be 'best friends forever.' "You're clever, Y/L/N, I'll give you that. Always knowing what to say to make me feel like I'm on top of the world."

"It's because I've bewitched you," you smile stupidly while the blond rolled his eyes.

"So you admit it? Are you slipping me amortentia too?" He searched your playful features, the glint of amusement in your eyes he loved and missed to see that always left him feeling breathless.

"Definitely," you answer sarcastically. "But enough stalling, let's go."

He let you lead him down the stairs, his hand held tightly in yours while his gaze stayed stuck on his feet shuffling slowly down the steps.

Your conversation was rattling around in his head for some reason, his heart a little lighter after the impromptu banter even if it wasn't the most appropriate time to joke around. But your words brought him back to the times when you weren't with him; when you were forced to separate. The days and the nights he'd be worried sick with his thoughts in a twist and his chest pounding with worry over your safety.

Sometimes through those thoughts, he would have a very odd and unworldly recurring one now and then that made him wish that really, you were just a smart witch who managed to slip him amortentia every day and that those concerns over you and your life weren't real. He sometimes felt so deeply that it scared him, feelings so raw that he couldn't possibly understand and that tore him apart if he wasn't distracting himself with something else. He couldn't help but seldom wonder if maybe the non-existent love potion you had on him faded away; so would his fears and feelings. But they never did, they only grew both more pitiful and meaningful in a whirlwind of others.

And though he often hated to admit just how deeply he felt and the vulnerability that came with it, he has no regrets about letting you in. Without you, his world would just be a dark storm of chaos and pain, but with you; there's a light at the end of a tunnel. You're the sun, the moon, and all the stars to him that light up his darkest days and help guide him and teach him in more ways than he could ever fathom.

Before he knew it, he was stepping over and maneuvering around debris from the battle, the hand holding yours feeling more clammy as you both witnessed for the first time the aftermath of what just happened in and outside the castle's walls not too long ago.

The sky was a blackened gray, a thunderous cover still sitting over the night with lingering clouds of smoke that looked like they came from fireworks but had instead been hexes and curses streaming through the air with the build-up of dust from the destruction.

It was painful, seeing people searching around still and calling out for whoever they were looking for. Bodies of Death Eaters and Scattered wands and ends of them that seemed to be snapped in half and dumped randomly. Giant holes blasted in the middle of the walls and so high up towards the tall ceilings that it looked like half the room was gone. It was silent, but mournful cries were ringing throughout the air and groans of pain coming from those who were injured. Everyone you had seen so far looked just like you and Draco did; dirty, disheveled, anxious, and dazed in a numb state.

You felt him get closer to you when you walked towards the wide-open doors of the Great Hall that sounded busier as you approached. You could feel the turmoil inside, the grief and the pain. Emotions were running high and strongly enough so that anyone who entered the room would feel it.

Draco swallowed thickly as he looked around, his stomach churning with shame as if it were his fault why everything and everyone was in anguish.

You looked up at him almost knowingly, your thumb soothingly running back and forth over the back of his hand while you gently squeezed it. You knew him well enough that he would start blaming himself, just like he always did much to your dismay.

You continued to lead him through the masses, both of you ignoring the furious glances in your direction as you trailed through with the very prominent silver-haired Slytherin who everyone now knew was associated with the Dark Lord and his servants. You heard a couple of hateful mutters, but it was relatively quiet as you ignored those too and kept your search for Madam Pomfrey with trembling and careful steps. Draco kept his eyes downcast, some of the spots of blood on the ground made him feel dizzy but it was better than anything else in his surroundings that he refused to acknowledge any more than he already had.

Madam Pomfrey was scurrying around a back corner when you finally found her, sweat dripping down her face and her uniform stained with grime and scarlet marks. The second she saw you, her hands flew up in surprise on either side of her head, the motion being followed by her hands suddenly clamping over her mouth as a shocked and visibly grateful expression crossed her face.

"Y/N!" She wailed quietly, her hands bunching up at her skirt while she moved around the area to meet you halfway. You weren't expecting her to pull you into a hug, her hand smoothing over the back of your hair as she pulled away and seemingly inspecting you for any injuries. "I'm so glad you're okay, dear. I overheard someone saying they saw you and Professor Carrow on one of the top floors and they weren't sure if you made it out alive before they left. I've been worried sick, I don't know how much more loss I can take."

You blinked hard, trying to register her impromptu vent and concern over you as if you were the most important person to her in the room. "You worried about me, Madam Pomfrey?"

"Why, of course!" She exclaimed as if it was the most obvious fact in the world. "I didn't watch you grow up, mend your injuries, and help you learn the beauty of healing without growing a soft spot for you. I sometimes feel like you're the daughter I never had."

You gave her a warm smile, her random confession making your chest feel a little less heavy. You were sure she was riddled with feeling the need to speak her mind and telling people how she truly felt about them after seeing all the deceased, all the people who she didn't get a chance to talk to, or whose loved ones didn't get a chance to either.

"While I have you here, a lot of people need tending and it's only a few others and myself, would you-"

"No need to ask," you quickly agreed, it was a no-brainer. Your hands were itching with the need to help, it was the main reason why you chose to come down. "Where do you need me?"

"Anyone you see who needs it."

She gave a curt nod to Draco who she may or may not have ignored just the slightest and gave you a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before she rushed over to someone behind you who had been calling for help.

You turn slowly to scan the room, cot-ridden people some covered in bandages and some holding onto their wounds while they waited for Pomfrey or anyone. You decided to focus on those first, Draco trailing closely behind you as you began making a beeline towards the people who looked to be in the worst shape.

Your wand was now held tightly in your shaking hand, the stress of doing real Healer work being something more common than you could have imagined now being right in front of you. You were still learning, still strengthening your skills but they were still sufficient, a natural gift you carried with you.

The first person you helped was a sixth-year boy, one you remember seeing on the Gryffindor Quidditch team as soon as he was in his second year as one of their more skilled Chasers. You remember seeing him play, so determined and full of rough excitement especially when he would be in a match against Slytherin. But now he was here, bleeding out on a cot with his hands held tightly over a spot on his waist and the light gone from his eyes. He was barely alive, nearly defeated and it made you want to scream out of sadness and frustration.

"Draco, I need your help," you said quickly as you observed the wound, pulling the boy's hands away from his side. "I need you to lift him up while I check him from the back."

"What?" He wished he heard you wrong, but he knew what you were asking him to do.

"I need you to lift him, please, hurry," you say to him again and this time he hastily moved to lower himself to the ground beside you and timidly began trying to prop the boy up. When he finally was able to, he watched you carefully as you worked diligently. He watched your hands feel around for any more bodily harm, your eyebrows knitted together in deep thought and worry, your bottom lip stressfully caught in between your teeth. You were muttering hopeful remarks to the boy that he would be okay, and as you dragged your wand across the deep gashes with your magical contact and intense care; Draco had realized just how talented you were. You were in your prime, your element, in full force.

After you bandaged the boy up with a quick spell, you allowed Draco to set him back down and began moving to the next without missing a beat.

It was like that for a while, moving around like a robot with one job where nothing else mattered except the saving of a life. You helped every single person you were able to, all the while Draco was admiring your skills with deep respect even while you were ordering him around to help you.

Hours passed, it seemed like. The only indication that time had indeed passed was the brightening of the dull gray sky now welcoming dawn. You had been working relentlessly, so much so, that for a while you forgot where you were and what you were doing there. If it wasn't for Draco pointing out the new change of day and what everyone was anxiously waiting for - you would have kept healing until you couldn't.

A flurry of hushed whispers fell amongst the desolated crowd packed inside the Great Hall. People were beginning to stand up and look outwards towards the collapsed gaping hole in the wall that faced the main courtyard where an army of dark-cloaked figures was approaching from the castle's bridge. Voldemort was returning, and you weren't sure if it was going to be a fight or the surrender he had promised. You weren't even sure if Harry went to him, you were clueless about everything and so was Draco.

A mob of students and adults had hesitantly but willfully moved outside through the large hole exposing the outside. They had an air of almost guardianship surrounding them, shoulders squared and hands gripping their wands tightly as they blocked off the opening. Those who wanted to see what was coming had also begun making their way outside, leaving only the injured and the terrified inside.

Draco looked at you expectantly, silently telling you that he needed to be outside too. You knew he'd want to search for his parents and there wasn't any protest from you as you trailed behind him to the main yard. You stopped beside him on the steps where the majority of the people stood, allowing the two of you to blend in somewhat.

It was quiet but the sound of several footsteps, stopping suddenly with their leader where he wanted and then suddenly all that echoed throughout the courtyard was, "Harry Potter... is dead!"

You held your breath and at the same time felt Draco stiffen next to you. You saw his eyes land first on his parents, they were clear as day just as frightened as he was as they filled out into the courtyard. They stood at the front of the crowd with the rest of the inner circle they were no longer a part of, standing off to the side with sullen and exhausted expressions or terrified, you couldn't quite tell.

You couldn't process what vile words were being thrown out into the air by the creature and creator of evil himself, nor could you process the eerie silence that fell upon what seemed like the whole world. There was not a bird in the sky, not a shimmer of sunlight, no butterflies or pixies fluttering around. It was like the Earth was dying alongside everyone. The darkness was devouring the wizarding world, but it was also seeping into the muggle world.

You hadn't even noticed what was going on, Voldemort's unsettling speech fading in your ears until you felt Draco's grip around your hand tighten almost painfully as if he was petrified by something. He felt statuesque beside you, his skin feeling cold and clammy and after a few seconds of a complete dead quietness, you understood why.

"Draco!" Lucius called out loudly in a quavering voice. Your head snapped in his direction, and then towards Draco, his eyes were shifting around him nervously at everyone who had turned to stare at him. He was analyzing them too, wondering if any of them would ask him to stay or to leave. His adam's apple was bobbing up and down as if he wanted to cry, a trembling breath falling from his lips as his father called for him one more time to come to him.

Your heart was beating through your chest now, your body turning slightly towards his as you wrapped your free hand around his wrist softly. He was being tested and in the worst way possible with a whole expecting audience. The fight between wanting to be good or being with his family was visibly eating him alive; even if it meant betraying himself, he loved his parents and being with them even if it was in awful, wicked circumstances.

You started to feel more frantic when Narcissa stepped forward, her facial expression was like stone, but the emotion swimming behind her eyes was vivid. You saw the same appearance on her the last time you were at the Manor, strong on the outside but troubled on the inside - much like her son. A pale manicured hand was placed on her husband's shoulder, her lips set in a thin line as she observed Draco and then you. You held your breath, knowing that if she called him to her, he would go. You felt like preparing yourself for the blow that was about to come, for the goodbye, for the letting go again, but nothing ever came.

She waited until Voldemort had his back to her, her eyes locking with yours suddenly and then over to Draco while she smiled ever so slightly, you almost missing it completely before she nodded just as faintly and mouthed, "it's okay."

The hold on your hand lessened almost immediately only for him to stiffen again when Voldemort looked back between him and then his parents. You sensed Draco about to lurch forward, but someone else did first.

Neville stepped forward, the attention falling on him now as Voldemort focused his unbelieving stare on him now. But what he thought was a new devoter was actually the complete opposite.

The speech he gave inspired the atmosphere again and gave strength to the people still willing to fight. You held onto Draco's hand tightly, his head turning to face you with worry at the death-like grip and the tremors shooting down your arms. He was about to take you away, about to run somewhere far away with you in his arms and ready to fight for his life to escape the next fight about to take place. He didn't want you to bear witness to any more pain and just as he opened his mouth to speak - everyone in the courtyard had audibly and roughly gasped in surprise.

He turned hastily, his gaze following everyone else's to where Harry now stood, wand in his hand and shooting a spell at the Dark Lord's snake companion. He saw Voldemort staring back in horror, throwing spells back at Harry's retreating figure while some of the Death Eaters began to apparate into the air in their signature black mists. That is when Draco found his footing again, his heart dropping to the pit of his stomach as he damn near pulled you away with all his might.

You cried out in fear, the blasts being sent through the air and screams of spells like repeats of the night before were enough to have your courage muddled once again. This time, though, Draco was going to make it his mission to keep you out of harm's way.

He ran inside the castle with you, sprinting down the corridors with your hand grasped tightly in his as you passed piles of rubble and the empty portraits that were once alive. He stopped at a random door, forgetting about his wand and rather following his primal instincts to kick at its wooden planks until it swung open to reveal a dark classroom. He kept your hand in his as he maneuvered around the desks with you in the dark, his destination being the small storage room at the very back of the class where it was hidden by some tall display shelves.

The storage closet was cramped and empty, a couple of unlabeled and old dusty bottles of who knows what was left on the shelves above. He moved you inside - but he didn't follow this time.

"Draco," you warn. "Where are you going?"

He opened his mouth to answer but he quickly shut it, his head turning around rapidly at the sound of someone running outside the class. That's when you saw it, a dark mist unexpectedly showed up at the door, a harsh "Malfoy brat!" escaping his mouth as he started running towards Draco with his wand in his hand.

"I love you," Draco hastily said before slamming the door shut in your face. A clicking sound rang in the little room, your hand reaching for the doorknob he just locked on you to try and rattle it open.

Struggling grunts, loud bangs, and finally a shattering window echoed in your ears despite you being locked in the storage room. You were paralyzed with fear, keeping deathly silent to try and hear if they were still in the room or if someone had been killed. You prayed it wasn't the latter, increasingly growing angry with Draco for not allowing you to help him. Though you'd complained to him about him not letting you fight beside him, and saved him from being killed by the Death Eater the night before, you understood why he always flees to hide you.

It wasn't because he thought you were weak, he told you time and time again it wasn't your skills he was worried about - but his.

You fished out your wand with shaky hands and blurred vision, pointing towards the doorknob with a fervent 'alohomora.' It slowly opened, your foot kicking it forward only slightly as you cautiously stepped back out into the open. There was no one and nothing there but stained glass window shards on the ground near the middle of the room where the fight between the two undoubtedly happened. You ran towards the mess, leaping up onto a ledge and looking outside the window where Draco was nowhere to be found.

A dry mouth accompanied your fears, a coldness enveloping you with an unwelcome hug as you stepped back onto the ground and made a beeline towards the door of the classroom. You rushed through the hallway, ducking and hiding from Death Eaters as you ran with all your might towards the Great Hall.

It was still packed with people, more injured people than there was the last time you were in there less than an hour ago. Everything moved so fast, your feet carrying you forward without another thought as you bolted through the Great Hall and towards the courtyard.

You almost made it to the opening, your eyes suddenly spotting three heads of bright platinum hair in the distance hiding behind a large fallen pillar before you were met with the cold stone beneath you.

Someone had grabbed your leg as you were running, your body colliding with the floor as you ripped yourself away almost instantly once you realized you had fallen. You looked back with your wand on defense as you prepared to face your attacker, but there was no one.

A pale and almost green-looking older man stared at you with wide fearful irises, pupils blown out and mouth hanging open and moaning in pain. He gestured weakly to his wounded body and the sight nearly made you want to collapse all over again.

You glanced back towards Draco and then again towards the man, the decision in your head already being made with the innate need to want to heal the man before you as you scurried over quickly to tend to him. You used your wand to try and heal some of his more major wounds but some of them wouldn't close fast enough and you were left with the man falling deeper into pain as he lost more blood.

He started grabbing at your hands, forcefully pushing your wand hand towards his lacerations while you struggled to focus between him and the battlefield where Draco was standing with his parents.

"Please, heal me, please miss," he begged, pulling your arm again. You were forced to turn away, worry eating away at you as you struggled to center your mind for the spell to close up his wounds. He finally stopped clawing at you, sitting back in defeat as you croaked out the bandaging spell with a shaky hand over the area, and finally saw most of his gashes closing up while you did.

Your momentary focus was cut short when a loud boom roared throughout the area, some of the windows breaking from the frequency of it and your eardrums suddenly pulsing with a high-pitched ringing. You fell back on your hands, your blood running cold as you hastily turned around to look outside. You couldn't see anything, just a thick unpenetrable cloud of smoke and more chunks of the castle falling. You could feel the ground shake as they connected with the stone pavement, more dust flying up into the air as they did.

You felt like screaming, maybe you were, you couldn't hear a thing besides the ringing and distant explosions. Hot tears were falling down your face as you pushed yourself up from the ground, stumbling over your feet from how fast you were moving yet feeling so heavy at the same time. You couldn't stop yourself from trying to run blindly into the cloud of smoke, desperately trying to look for Draco all while praying that you didn't and instead he moved out of the way.

Your hearing was slowly returning to you; the sound of nothing yet everything was unnerving. Cries and spell incantations and destruction - but also panicked dead silence. You could feel and faintly hear yourself screaming out for Draco, his name echoing brokenly in the darkened air.

It felt like everything was moving in slow-motion, a feeling you don't think you'd ever get used to no matter how often it happened. It always ensued in the most unanticipated and painful moments, your adrenaline sky-rocketing and your mind moving rapidly, but everything else seemed to move like a stop-motion film.

People had started running out of the smoke and towards the opening in the wall to retreat into the Great Hall. They were coughing violently, some hobbling over and grabbing at themselves from wherever they were in pain. Some brushed past you, some bumped into you as if you weren't there, some gripped onto your arms and pleaded for you to go inside either because they needed help or were just trying to protect you from moving out of a danger zone. You felt dumb still calling out for Draco, no answer, no speck of white dirtied hair, no one hearing or seeing a thing about him.

The sob stuck in your throat finally tore itself through, your heart dropping to your stomach as Madam Pomfrey appeared near the wall to call out for you to come inside to help again. You didn't want to leave your spot in the sheer and blind hope that the love of your life would stumble through the area safe and okay. Even when the smoke cleared up and Harry Potter and Voldemort became clear in the courtyard again with their wands fighting against each other, you still didn't see any sign of Draco.

"Y/N!" Madam Pomfrey called for you again desperately as she ushered people inside. You were sick to your stomach, your vision hazy and your legs weak. You couldn't stop crying or shaking, all of your worst nightmares abruptly feeling too real for you to handle. Your name was called for again, your heart breaking even further as your feet unwillingly dragged you back inside only to be thrown back into healing people which was ironically the last thing you wanted to do at this moment.

Your tears didn't stop when you were kneeled and tending to someone's broken ankle, your whole body trembling still even as you tried to focus and still yourself enough to give them what they needed. All you could think about was Draco and how you might never see him alive again, never feel him, or experience life with him in the way you dreamed of. Every moment you spent with him felt like it was slowly going down the drain; everything you went through - all were just going to be agonizing memories. The recurring nightmarish flush of emotions that felt like they ran through you every other day when you thought Draco was dead was on the forefront now. You swore you were about to empty dry-heave over the person underneath you, forcing down the need to gag even if it was painfully bubbling in your throat.

It was panic all around you, and panic, and more panic - until there wasn't. You hadn't even noticed that all the rushing and commotion in the room stopped until you realized you were able to hear your faint weeping and then scattered shocked gasps and a disappearing howl of the wind.

You hastily stood up from your kneeled position over the person you were finished tending, your sight bouncing from every corner of the courtyard where the only visible person in your vision was Harry, his head following the movement of a long whirl of black ashes that were disappearing into the gray and polluted sky from the aftermath of the battle.

The realization hit you a million times over in the few seconds that you watched the ashes vanish into thin air.

Voldemort was gone.

The only thing on Earth that was standing between you and Draco from giving in to each other freely and thoughtlessly. It felt like all your fears had dissipated into the gray hub with the speckled ashes of the Dark Lord, no more worry for the future that no longer looked so bleak - but unknowing again. You couldn't find Draco anywhere and just as fast as your dread had left you; it came rushing back with a nauseating flood of terror. You were never sure whether to trust your intuition that always sparkled with faith that tried to wash away your worries or your mind that was racing with doubts and pessimistic thoughts telling the rest of your being to relax and lose the blind hope.

You almost tripped over yourself trying to scurry out towards the gathering crowd near the exit, your heartbeat feeling hollow and legs weak and feeling like you were sinking into quicksand. You brought up your elbow to try and maneuver yourself through the growing group of people, but someone with a swift grasp around your arm had stopped you and spun you around directly into their embrace.

Draco was no stranger to you. There was nothing about him that you wouldn't be able to recognize. You knew it was him the moment your nose brushed against the cool skin of his throat where it still smelled faintly of his cologne. You felt his disheveled hair tickle your cheeks and the soft thankful string of whispers that felt like a warm kiss going past your ear lobes. Your arms were tight around his neck, not caring about the possibility that you might be choking him but he was holding onto your waist just as hard and unknowingly spinning you both around in a slow and dazed way that felt like gravity was pulling you both together as he rocked you carefully back and forth in his hold. Your endless hot tears were falling onto his collarbones and soaking the neckline of his shirt, his physical presence almost being too much for you after you had accidentally convinced yourself of his death.

"I thought you died," you mumble out muffledly into his chest. "I saw you and then there was a blast and-"

"You forget I can apparate, Y/L/N?" He whispers the question.

When you finally opened your eyes, you were still tightly held in Draco's arms, propping your chin on his shoulder as you held your breath from the beauty that was unveiling itself right in front of you. You were facing the opening to the courtyard, the dense gray thunderous clouds in the orange and blue sky were quickly disappearing as if they were being magically blown away like they didn't belong there.

The sun was beaming down on you, the rays kissing every inch of your face with a warmth that filled you with peace. You hadn't seen the sun in so long, bright and shimmering in all its glory like it was the first day of summer. Birds and other small flying creatures were soaring through the air again, the chirps and songs of dawn that began the new day were beautifully loud as if they were alarms that were waking everyone up from a nightmare.

It felt like the morning of a day you were yearning so long for, a day that felt like the equivalent of events that you were just so thrilled for and couldn't wait for, where you spent the night before wide-awake with adrenaline and couldn't sleep because of how excited you were for what lied ahead; like the day before you began your first-year at Hogwarts. Otherworldly and full of awe and wondrous hope for a future that was now infinite.

You weren't sure how long it took you to tear your stare away from the scene. You leaned back, his hands still resting on your hips to hold you in place as you gazed into his waiting eyes but it was enough to make you feel speechless again. You wanted to kiss him with every fiber in your being, feel his touch from head to toe.

You took a look around you and saw everyone in a mix of joyous tears, celebratory hugs, and kisses.

"Are you alright?" He asked you quietly, soft concern entangled between his words, eyebrows furrowed and eyes focused on yours attentively. "I'm sorry I left you in the storage closet. I was going to go in with you, I swear, but I heard someone coming and-"

"It's okay, Draco," you cut him off, releasing a huff of air, "I'm alright and I understand. Thank you." You gave him a teary smile. He returned the grin half-heartedly, one of his hands coming up from behind your back and carefully moving a flyaway out of your face.

"Good." He let out breathily. "Now let's get out of here for a minute."

His fingers interlocked with yours, his arm tugging you slightly in the direction he wanted to take you in as he turned on his heel and began towards the Great Hall's main doors. It felt foreign now that it was riddled with every awful thing that just happened, stained and etched into the stone walls for the rest of Hogwarts history.

Everything was different now, it looked and felt like so in the clearest way.

You were walking through the large meadows blossoming throughout the outside of the school now that the sun was out and all its beings that came with its bright renewing light. Tall blades of grass brushed across your ankles, flowers, and weeds latching themselves onto your calves slightly as if they were hugging your lower limbs like they were old friends.

He was taking you towards your tree, its lively branches twirling around in the whistling gales flowing through it. It snowed white and pink wispy petals and bright green leaves, the pieces of nature flying excitedly in the air as they fell all around you or disappeared into the passing breeze.

There was a pause when you both stopped in your steps in front of the sentient's trunk, right underneath all its shaking twigs. Your hands stayed in each other's grasp, but no words were said yet. No reactions or outbursts, just blankness written on his perfect face if you ignored the wrinkle in his brow you were sure was permanent now as it was always there.

"How do you feel?" You ask almost hesitantly, the thickness in the air growing by the second from his silence.

"I don't know." He sounds far away. His head was in a million other places than where he was. "It's odd, I thought I'd-" He stopped himself. You caught the disappointment that flashed across his icy eyes.

"What is it?" You waited. You hoped you didn't sound too eager, however the innate need you felt now to ease away all his worries always had you ready at your feet to bring him some sort of peace.

"I thought it would feel happier," he mumbles, looking up at you with vast watery eyes. "He's gone, but he left me with nothing."

You frown at his reveal. You could sense the uneasiness inside him as the adrenaline from watching the Dark Lord disappear into thin air had rapidly passed for him. He was realizing now that his problem was no longer Voldemort, but his life that got thrown off its track in the process.

"And the worst of it all," he mutters bitterly, his tears now rushing angrily down his face in muddy streaks. You felt him roughly pull his left sleeve up, pitiful sniffles emitting from him as he struggled helplessly to fold the fabric up his arm.

You placed a careful hand over his trembling ones, stopping his wild movements as you tried your best to hush him into comfort. It seemed like the simplest things work for him when they come from you, centering all his anger and sadness so abruptly it almost feels like he gets brought back down to Earth after being launched into space. He was still livid and ashamed, but for your sake only, he kept himself from moving recklessly and calmed his haphazardness.

"It's still there," he let out defeatedly, dragging his fingers across the faded black ink on his skin. You could still make out the skull and the snake, its form still clear as day, just significantly less opaque on his arm.

Draco felt let down almost. He built up the excitement of thinking he would be able to get rid of that horrible mark one day if Voldemort ever got defeated, but the day was finally here and yet it still stained him as a reminder of the worst years of his life that he wanted to do everything in his power to forget.

"I seem to remember telling you the night you first showed it to me," you trailed off as you replaced the hand over his mark with yours. "That, while I know you hate it and I know it hurts to see it. It’s not you. And one day, forth from today, it's going to be so faint that it’ll just be a reminder of how you survived and got through the most difficult point of your life. I know you want to forget, but this won't ever be something you can just ignore. It's going to be with you forever and the only thing you can do is move forward and try towards the future you dreamed of when you thought it was impossible. I believe in your future, Draco. You can still be who you want to be.”

He would never be able to fully explain to you how appreciative he was for you; for your entire existence and your presence in his life. He couldn't fathom how much the flurry of emotions that ran through his body affected him due to your reassuring words dripping from your lips like honey. Simple skin-to-skin contact from you, or even just a look - could send his mind into a hurricane like that. He doesn't think he'll get over it, ever.

The feeling of you.

Draco took a shuddering breath, allowing the unexpected warm air to fill his lungs and hopefully rid his body of its anxious random quivering. He didn't want to cry anymore in front of you, nor did he want to sadden you on what was supposed to be a relieving day.

Unfortunately for him, you were able to read him instantly. You finally cracked the code of Draco Malfoy and what he looked like when he was withholding words or sentiments from you. When he was genuinely troubled with his thoughts. Or any other beautiful or haunting expression that settled itself onto his porcelain features. Your speech to him had touched the deepest depths in his heart and eased his worries tremendously, but he couldn't shake the anxiety gnawing at him.

Right now, he was looking spooked and pained. His expression wasn't as harsh as it had been for the last many months you've known him now, but it was still clear he was disturbed. You knew nothing you said or did for him would be able to completely erase the events that transpired and changed not only his world but the whole wizarding world - and yours. Everyone had overextended their body, minds, powers, and efforts for the sake of a bright future with the endless possibilities that no one would ever take for granted again.

All you were able to do for him right now was gently tug his arm to wordlessly ask him to sit in the grass with you, to which he complied, and you embraced him with every intention of never letting go. Something about the way you wrapped your whole self around him made him feel grateful all over again and most of all, safe. Your hands ran up and down his back soothingly, every once in a while one snaked up his neck and played with the hair on the back of his head, nails grazing soft circles onto his scalp. Your chest was flush against his and he couldn't help moving you onto his lap to wrap his arms around you tighter and bring you impossibly closer.

This was the first time, he realized, that when he closed his eyes and saw the darkness surrounding his vision - it wasn't bleak. It wasn't hopeless as it had been just over an hour ago. It was like a huge iron weight had been lifted off his chest, the figurative anchor tugging him to the bottom of his despair was cut free and he felt himself slowly but surely coming back up to the surface. The drowning feeling in him wasn't overwhelming anymore.

Draco was unsure of whether or not his steady breathing was because he had automatically begun matching his inhales and exhales to the rise and fall of your chest against him, or if it was because of the continuous realization that the Devil looming over his fate was gone, but he was grateful.

Merlin, he was so grateful.

He was fine for a second. But then something much worse came to mind.

The thoughts of what would happen after Voldemort's death quickly changed from him wondering how can he move forward with his life and now tainted past, to realizing what he and his family did was a crime. An extremely unforgiving crime in his world and one punishable by an eternity of imprisonment in the worst place imaginable. A place that if he didn't have the soul sucked out of him physically, he would lose it himself with time as he rotted away.

Draco felt his breathing switch from steady to ragged almost instantaneously again. His hands were suddenly on your hips, carefully sliding you off of him and scooting away from you so that he could gather himself. He couldn't look at you right now, feeling insanely guilty for who he was and how you didn't deserve to deal with his mess. You didn't deserve to keep getting put through hell for him and he hated knowing that everything awful that had happened to you has been directly linked to him, caused by him indirectly.

"Draco," you call out to him gently. You saw the panic in his eyes, his cheeks growing red with dread, and his fingers pulling at his white strands. You feared for him, his heart, and his mind. You wanted to cry with him, understanding that he wasn't going to be okay for a while.

"I'm so pathetic, I'm sorry," he expressed to you meekly.

"What's wrong, love?" You try again. You crawled over to him, stopping in front of him where he was hugging his knees to his chest and sobbing into the fabric of his pants. His cries broke your heart like they did every time, the pain always evident in his wavering voice. "Maybe I can help?"

"No, Y/N," he muttered weakly. "You can't help me on this one."

"How do you know that if you won't tell me what it is." You frown at his stubbornness. You noticed his attempt at trying to take a deep breath to answer you and the way his head slightly shook from side to side.

"Unless you can stop the ministry from banishing me to Azkaban," he finally spits out with a shudder, "then there's nothing you can do."

A silence fell over you two. The government belonging to the Wizarding World was something that hadn't even crossed your mind yet. And he was right. There was a very big chance he could get locked away for his crimes, and there was a one hundred percent chance he would have to go to trial and hearing, perhaps even a sentencing.

You felt dizzy thinking about it, a sinister feeling forming at the pit of your stomach. You couldn't handle another separation from him, especially after everything you had just gone through, especially after letting yourself dream of a future with him again, and especially if he was going to be gone for good.

"I don't want to go to Azkaban," he hoarsely whispered.

Draco wanted to live up to all his hopes, live up to yours and what the two of you wished so deeply for if you made it out of everything alive. He let himself dream of the future just like you had, only his imaginations were cut horribly short.

"I don't want you to either." You couldn't bring yourself to give him false hope. This was something completely out of your control and you knew it would be wrong to try and make him believe it would all be sunshine and rainbows from here. You weren't sure how the Ministry of Magic would handle things now or how serious they were going to punish everyone involved.

The Dark Ages may have ended, but something else entirely had begun and you weren't sure what it was or what it would entail. But you're in love with Draco Malfoy, and you accepted all of him including the unforeseen future that always followed him around but as long as he would have you, you'd be there for him, just as he would for you.

"Draco, you know wherever you go, I'll always be there for you."

"You can't follow me to Azkaban, Y/N," he breathes out.

"I know," you say dejectedly. "But maybe we can figure something out. I'll come up with a spell that allows me to apparate inside your cell as a pest or a bug. Or I'll become head at the Ministry of Magic and give myself the permission to visit you. Or, what if you don't even have to go to Azkaban? Whatever happens, it doesn't matter, this won't be the end for us."

He looked up at you with his reddened and puffy eyes finally, lips quivering as he searched your face for an ounce of doubt or regret like he always feared to catch but it's never there. Only warmth. That's all he ever saw from you.

"Even if they lock me up forever?"

"If that happens then I'll break you out myself and we can run away, start a new life as muggles in the muggle world."

"That sounds revolting." He couldn't help the small momentary grin that formed on his lips. "You'd give up magic for me?" He said, suddenly serious.

Without missing a beat, you answered, "I'd do anything for you, Draco."

His hands were on the grass now, raising himself from his sitting position to now being on his knees and surprising you with a firm kiss as he lurched gently forward. One hand found its place on your jaw, his fingers softly gripping at the skin on your neck and cheek as he kissed you deeper.

He laid you down onto the grass, your hair splaying itself like a halo around you as he moved his hand to bury itself at the back of your head and rested his elbow on the ground to stabilize himself. You melted into the feel of each other’s lips, feeling pixies in your chest and stars in your head as you sunk into one another’s hold. He kissed you passionately and hungrily, while making sure he kept his love for you apparent as he moved away from your lips every few kisses to plaster more all over your face in adoration. He would let his tongue slip past your lips now and then, smiling to himself when you repeated the action. You had your feet planted on the ground and knees pointed towards the sky as he ran a hand up and down your outer thigh.

He pulled away fully, ocean eyes searching your face or rather admiring it as if it was the last time he'd ever see it despite the both of you silently praying with all your soul that it wasn't. You reached a hand up to massage the crinkle forming between his brows, your thumb caressing the soft skin and wiping away the soot that was still glued to his face with tears and sweat.

He kissed your forehead in turn, slightly smiling down at you with contentment as you peered up at him. You wished you could hear his thoughts, understand the words and pictures that swirled in his mind that you may or may not ever hear or see. You never knew what was going through his mind when he looked at you... like that.

"On second thought maybe the muggle life doesn't sound all too rubbish," he admitted with a pink tinge to his cheeks, the tips of his ears following in suit. "As long as it's with you, I'd give up everything if it meant I can be by your side. You saved me, Y/N and I'll forever be grateful to you."

Now it was you who wanted to cry. The selfish boy you always knew to be obsessed with magic and power, his fortune, and his undeniably successful future that was in his stars just admitted he would give up all he knew that once meant everything to him, just to be with you in a place he once swore he'd rather die than become a part of. But that wasn't him anymore, this Draco was completely different. Unrecognizable. And no matter how many times you saw it, his newfound softness always took you by surprise and knocked you off your feet.

"My little healer."

You cried after that, welcoming his full body weight with open arms locking around his shoulders as you pushed him down onto you.

And it felt like just the two of you existed at that moment, basking in each other's love and devotion you discovered and developed at such a young age. You two stayed there, lying in the grass, your tree once again sending its flowers descent onto you like a silent blessing from the universe. You two were tired in every way and will never be the same, but you had a renewed hope for the future that right now seemed so far away but was nonetheless bright because if Draco was going to be by your side, there would always be a light that follows.

---

Arcane Silco x Reader One-shot - I Trust You

Synopsis: After the incident with Vander, you find what remains of the Silco you left at The Last Drop the night before. Now heart shattered, terrified, and close to death, he grips on tight to the only thing he has left as you try your best to comfort him and aid his wounds.

Young!Silco, Pre S1, Implied Fem!Reader but could be read GN, mentions of injury, blood, typical canon violence, knife mentioned, Hurt/Comfort, angst, established relationship, Medic!Reader

I've been inspired after wasting DAYS reading Silco fics, thank you fellow Arcane fanfic writers ❤️ Maybe I'll write more for the fandom?????

The cracked cobblestone paths of the cramped Undercity clack loudly under the worn soles of your boots. Your medic bag hangs loosely over your shoulder, the parched leather splitting at the seams as you toy with the fraying material between your nails.

You don't need to be told that tonight's highly-anticipated Uprising was a failure. You can judge its success based solely on the amount of rioters you saw in your office today; chipped teeth, brutal burn wounds, broken limbs, concussions. The unrest between Zaun and the ever-oppressive Piltover thickens with each passing minute, Enforcers becoming more violent and Zaunites only more angry.

Tonight's rally was meant to be the turning point, Zaun would fight back and push past the bridge, securing their futures with an iron grip and hearts full of hope. Vander spoke of it just yesterday evening, eyes gleaming with ambition saccharine sweet as he raised his glass of ale high in cheer. Silco, your Silco, with a smile so sure, so wide, you were certain you'd never seen him so excited.

"You're sure you can't make it?" He's asking you, shoulder jostling your own as he slides into the seat beside you at the bar. The cacophony of cheer around the bar following Vander's inspiring speech seems to die down and reduce to a droning chatter of voices and clinking dish ware.

Your eyes peel away from Vander — who is serving patrons left and right with an energy so radiant you can't help but shake your head at him, a small smile gracing your features — to meet Silco's sea-foamy green ones, peering down at you from the slant of his nose.

"You know riots mean people tend to get hurt. I'll be more needed at the med center, that's where I can do my part." You say, and it's true. The Undercity lacks in abundance, especially lacking in individuals with medical knowledge, much less an affordable one, or even a doctor you can trust. You've become an important addition to The Children of Zaun, and even more important to the citizens you look out for.

Silco nods, understanding, albeit disappointed that you won't be by his side. He wraps an arm loosely around your shoulders, pulling you in so he can press a chaste kiss to your temple.

"I know. This will be a big one, an important one. We'll be needing you down here."

You smiled softly, "You'll be careful, won't you?"

"As careful as I always am." Silco smirked.

"Great, so I'll be seeing you tomorrow night in my office is what I'm hearing?"

"Well, when you make it sound so scandalous I couldn't possibly miss out, my dear."

You're rolling your eyes at him, nudging him back with your adjacent shoulder as he chuckles. A peaceful silence overcomes the two of you as you soak in your surroundings at the bustling bar. Felicia is bickering with Vander at the counter, her vibrant purple braid flicked over her shoulder and Vander is laughing at her playful scowl.

"What will you do, if you succeed?" You ask suddenly.

Silco doesn't hesitate a second, "Not if. We will. We must succeed." His brows furrow for a moment, "I don't know what I will do. I'll come back for you, and then I suppose we will figure it out together like we always do. You trust me, don't you?"

You can't help but grin at that, "Of course I trust you."

Trust has always been one of the most important values holding you and Silco together. No matter what, you would always trust each other, to the ends of the earth. And you'd never stop reminding the other.

Your next thought is interrupted by Benzo, at least six ales down.

"There will be celebrations all through Zaun tomorrow night just you wait! In just another twenty four hours we will be commemorating our victories with each and every Zaunite throughout the city!"

But, as you make your way home it becomes blatantly apparent that there are no celebrations raging through Zaun tonight, there was no victory, and instead just an evening full of shattered hearts and broken bones.

Needless to say, Silco never did make it to your office tonight, and now as you walk back home on tired feet in the early hours of the dawn you find yourself wondering what state he could be in.

Silco may not be the strongest, but he's quick, and he's so painfully smart you can bet he hadn't been caught by Enforcers — but then if not carted away to Stillwater, why hadn't you seen him at the med center as you usually do after a riot? The nerves bite at your system, and you can only hope he is safe and sound at The Last Drop where you left him yesterday night, waiting for you to find in a few hours. First, you know you need to sleep off the fatigue of tending to the injured all night long.

You turn right into the alleyway that cuts through the block of stacked houses and cross the street to your home. As the door comes into view it is then that you feel a prickling sensation of unease creeping into your very being. You remove your hood from your head, peering at your surroundings cautiously in an effort to calm yourself. There's no one around. Nothing to explain the worry woven into your deepest instincts as you quicken your steps to the entrance of your abode.

The single key fished from the pocket of your med bag rattles in the rickety doorknob before the lock unlatches. The wood swings open with a creak.

There's water everywhere. Puddles of the polluted brown liquid spreads from the front entrance. It trails through the house where cabinets and drawers are left ajar and furniture lies knocked over on the uneven floor. You freeze in horror at the state of your belongings before spotting the streaks of blood on the floor and the counters of your kitchen. Whoever had trespassed had done it in a panicked struggle, things haphazardly left out all around the property. You huff a swear before dropping your bag as silently as you can at the front door, your tiredness suddenly swept away and replaced with unfiltered adrenaline. Survival-mode kicks in, and you're creeping with predator-like stealth to the kitchen. A peek into the open drawer confirms your suspicions, and whoever had broken in had stolen the large kitchen knife you stored and was likely wielding the weapon somewhere in your home.

You go for the next best thing, a rusted but still sharp pair of cooking scissors which you grasp tight in your palm, blade poised.

Following the trail of blood and water, your head swiveling vigilantly in every which direction, you make your way up the short flight of stairs to the second floor. Your bedroom door is wide open, a handprint of blood smeared across the edge of it in a rush. You take a deep, shuddering breath before slipping through the threshold.

The bed is left tidied and made, moth eaten sheets folded over the top of the frayed duvet and curtains billowing softly from the cold breeze which spills through the crack in the window. It's all in the state that you left it in. Your brows furrow in confusion before spotting the faint light which emanates from the crack under the adjoining bathroom door.

Your hands tremble as you creep towards the door, wondering if what lies behind it is the means to your fateful end. Teeth wearing into the flesh of your bottom lip, you stop and lean against the wall beside the bathroom. You listen, ears straining hard to hear through the barrier before you catch it.

It's the faint sound of someone crying, notable only by the quiet, shuddering breaths and wet sniffling that periodically breaks the whimpering noise.

It's then that you hear the low whisper interrupting the soft sobbing, the voice tinged with abysmal pain and fear, "Fuck—,"

Silco.

You're not even thinking as the scissors fall from your grasp, hitting the floor with a metallic clang before you wrench open the door and burst inside, heart thrumming viscously in the cage of your chest as you recognize your lover's voice.

Your breath catches hard in your throat at the sight before you; Silco, curled tightly in the basin of your bathtub, head to toe in soaking wet clothes stained with blood which drips from his face. His wet black hair hangs disheveled over half of his features, cloaking him in the raven locks. Your missing kitchen knife is clasped rigidly in between both hands, blade sticking straight out and bobbing with his labored breaths. His one visible eye widens in what you think is fear and his whole body freezes up at the sight of you, his legs scramble against the edge of the tub like he's trying to get away from you but all you can think is, he's hurt. You have to fix him.

"Silco," you rasp, reaching for him frantically with tears brimming in your eyes but before you know it he's yelling, pointing the blade of the knife at you and waving it around haphazardly.

"Stop—" He's crying, but the syllable comes out guttural and hoarse, "Don't touch me!"

You freeze, hands up to show you mean no harm and falling back on your knees to be eye level with him.

You swallow before you try to say anything, but the lump in your throat only grows ten-fold.

"Silco," you try, tentatively. "What happened?"

"Felicia's dead." Is what he manages to gasp, teeth gritting hard and eyes squeezing shut, another stray tear falling down his face.

You don't realize you're treating him like a patient until you're halfway done examining him with just a glance. His nails are bent and broken like he had scratched desperately at an unrelenting force, the torn collar of his jacket reveals blooms of a deep purple encompassing the surface of his throat and neck, blood pours from what you could see of his cheek, down his jaw and off the point of his chin. His eyes are swollen and bloodshot and his nose is definitely crooked— likely broken and the bruising is beginning to swell beneath his eyes. It doesn't take a genius to tell he had been asphyxiated, and beaten, hard.

Felicia. Felicia is dead. You're trying to hold onto your resolve, face relaxed as to not alarm him any further but your heart wants to cry out in agony. Another good soul, lost to a helpless cause. Another loved one, gone. You want to ask where Vander is, where Benzo is. Whatever it is that happened at the Uprising has clearly shaken Silco to the core, nearly unrecognizable with fear and shame and you worry that if you break down now nothing will be left to hold the rest of him together.

"I don't know where to go. I don't have anyone else." Silco is rambling now, voice sore and body shaking. "I can't go back. I can't go back, he'll finish me off."

"Silco, who? What's happened to you? I don't understand—" You can feel the tears spilling over and you choke on a sob, terrified for the man you love.

Silco shakes his head rapidly, he opens his mouth like he'll try to explain but is cut off by a cry so anguished you feel your own soul shattering. His shoulders tremble and you realize he must be freezing, his clothes saturated and the chill of the night air permeating his figure.

"I'll be right back. I'm going to get you a blanket and I'll come right back." you say gently.

He nods and hangs his head low, avoiding eye contact.

You retreat to the bedroom and pull your duvet right off the bed, also grabbing the forgotten glass of water left on the nightstand from the night before. You stand at the threshold of the bathroom peering in as non threatening as you can before taking a deep breath.

"I need you to put the knife down." you whisper.

Silco glances at the object in his hand and stares at it in shock for a split second, like he had not even realized he'd armed himself with your household items.

"I would never hurt you, Silco."

He takes a deep breath, and flips the blade before handing it over to you, handle out.

"Thanks," you whisper, placing the knife on the bathroom counter across from you. You trade it for the glass of water. "Here. Can I touch you?"

Silco takes a deep breath, eyes shut before nodding and wiping crudely at his cheek with the back of his hand, the skin pulling away wet with his tears.

You sit at the edge of the tub and pull the thick duvet into the basin, pausing over Silco's soaked figure.

"Do you want to take your clothes off? We can get you dry and warm."

He shakes his head no, but does pull off the bulky jacket, the wet fabric slapping against the surface of the porcelain bathtub. You drape the blanket over his shoulders, wrapping it around to his front and tucking it around him the best you can manage. He takes a long sip of the water, grimacing as he swallows and you try to catch a glimpse of the bruising on his neck.

"It's okay, I got you." You whisper. "It's okay if you don't want to talk about it, but I need to know what's wrong so I can fix it. You can even just point." You say, hand massaging tenderly over his blanketed shoulder.

"I-I can't see out of my left eye," He says, voice low and gravelly, "it hurts."

"Can I look?"

Silco lifts a hand and runs it through his long hair, pushing most of it back out of his face but a few unruly tresses fall back over his forehead. You can't help the gasp that falls from your lips as you survey the gashes running across his eye and mutilating the whole expanse of the area. Blood oozes from the wounds and the flesh swells bright red and pink and you know it's already infected. You can't save the eye, that much is evident.

"I need to clean it before the infection spreads any further, I'm sorry." You cringe, "It's going to hurt but you could die if I don't treat it now."

He nods. Silco seems to be of sounder mind now. Not relaxed by any means, but his breathing is controlled, his good eye is focused and he's understanding you.

You turn around to retrieve your personal medical supplies in the linen closet and find the bottle of antiseptic and gauze, when you turn around you meet Silco's gaze, his brows pressed together with worry and mouth pressed into a deep frown. The blood from his eye drips on the fabric of your blanket and stains it the color of rust.

"It was Vander." he says.

You freeze up, nearly dropping the bottle, "Vander did this to you?" you ask incredulously.

Silco nods. "I didn't mean to get her killed. I didn't mean it, none of this was supposed to happen, I—" he breaks off into silent tears again and you gently hush him.

You've never seen him cry in the many years you've spent together, now to witness it so many times in one night you have no idea how to handle it.

"It's okay, you can explain later. I trust you." You assure.

You tilt his chin to look at you and wipe the tears from his face.

"I trust you." You say again.

"Okay." Silco appeases, "I trust you, too."

It takes nearly an hour to clean out his wounds, by then the sun is beginning to rise, a blue haze filtering in through the windows and casting a glow on everything the light touches. Silco has stripped from his wet clothes and showered, but had asked sweetly if you would wait for him in the bathroom to which you comply.

He changes into dry clothes he had left here ages ago and now lies in your bed, curled up on his side. The blankets are tucked over him and he lays silently beside you while you card your fingers through his hair. His sighs against the skin of your shoulder.

You know he wants to sleep but fears the playback behind his eyes of the events of the failed Uprising, but his body can't physically stand to move anymore. His injured eye is packed under gauze and medical tape and you can only hope you did all that you could.

His eyes flicker up to yours, "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I owe you a proper explanation. Thank you, for caring for me."

"I'll always care for you, Silco. You don't owe me anything, this is what I'm here for. You can tell me when you're ready."

"Okay." He replies, stroking your cheek with the backs of his split knuckles before tangling gently in the hair at the nape of your neck. You lay like that together for a while, you drifting in and out of consciousness as the adrenaline wears off and the chaos of the day becomes a memory. You trace the sharp angular features of Silco's face lovingly, pressing a sleepy kiss to the corner of his mouth. Your mind wanders to Vander, to Felicia, to Felicia's two beautiful children and Benzo and The Last Drop.

You wonder if things will ever be the same again and your heart aches at the silent answer. You know you'll never be able to forgive the man who hurt Silco like this; destroyed him at his very core and you know he will never be the same again.

"We can't trust anyone now. Only each other." Silco says, voice thick with pain.

"I'll always trust you." You reply softly, "Sleep, Silco. You need to rest. We will figure it out in a few hours."

Your eyes drift closed after that, the last of your sentence trailing off as you succumb to your exhaustion. The last thing you see is the pretty green-blue eye of your lover, half lidded and glistening in the light of the sunrise.

"I love you."

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Lost and Found - Sebastian Sallow x Female! Reader

Summary: You’d both fucked up, and you both knew it.  But Sebastian was starting to lose himself, and you couldn’t stop sobbing. The air was too thick for words, the pain and the anger and the fear combusting into a shrieking tempest. It was too much to bear in the cavernous room, and you both cracked.  Two years of your steady cadence shuddered and fell like leaves when Sebastian found his voice first.  “I’m fucking done.”

Alternatively summarized as Sebastian dealing with the aftermath of your break-up and working through his feelings.

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: Mild injuries, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending

Full fic can be found here on Ao3 

Mostly Sebastian’s POV following the argument because I wanted to put him through it 

Keep reading

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new obsession? i think yes

just a teeny bit, darling

Summary: Copia parties too hard for Terzo's birthday. You do your best making sure he gets home tucked in bed.

Tags: SFW but suggestive, 18+ only pls, 4k words, gen!reader, drinking, parties, mention of throwing up (no one does don’t worry), Copia is very drunk in this, he’s a sentimental drunk too, established relationship, fluff, lovingly taking care of his dumbass.

Read on AO3 or below!

Copia isn’t the type to get plastered. Atleast, not anymore. In his days as a young Cardinal of the church, an age where he had more freedom to do as he pleased, he’d indulge himself more in the art of getting hammered.

“They had to peel me off the Abbey floor this one time.” He had mentioned, whilst telling you stories of his youth. He made himself out to be quite the party animal; participating in drinking games, going toe-to-toe with Ghouls on who can down the most liquor. Part of you wished you knew him back then, just to see his antics unfold. He was wild in his Cardinal days, today not so much.

After ascension to Papa and his increased age, Copia’s assured you that he’s lost the stamina for it, one of the supporting reasons being that touring had done a great deal on him. And he’s kept this statement to truth; leaving parties before midnight and limiting himself to two or three drinks for an evening.

You have only ever seen him casually buzzed. Nowadays, even if he had the stamina, Copia holds too much value for himself as Papa to let himself go off the deep end.

Who would expect a simple birthday party to rekindle the flames of that young Cardinal— and his questionable decision-making. 

Tonight is Terzo’s birthday. A milestone number for the former Papa and, of course, Terzo wanted to celebrate in the most avant-garde way: throw a party, and invite the entire church. They cleared out the vast chapel to make room and the Ghouls helped conjure the decorations. Omega even conjured a disco ball.

The chapel looked like a makeshift nightclub, fitted with balloons and streamers, all of which were in Terzo’s favourite colours. Most, if not all of the Abbey came, and the atmosphere turned out to be just what Terzo wanted.

You took up a nice seat at the barside, nursing your favourite beverage as the night rolled on. A single Ghoul had been running the drinks, scurrying between serving and pouring.

You had spotted something fizzle out from under his dark sleeve early on in the night, and suspected he’s been using magic to get out the drinks on time. You hoped that Secondo wouldn’t notice. The second Papa always preached that magic was scared, only to be used in rituals. But the Ghoul did have a lot of guests to tend to, so you who were you to question it.

Another sip and you check the time, bobbing your head to the rock music playing above. Your watch reads past midnight, and Copia still hasn’t found you yet to leave. But you’re not really in a rush to find him.

Copia is somewhere in the room socializing with the other Papas, something he hardly had the time for. Once the two of you arrived at the chapel, you urged him to go off on his own to catch up with his brothers. He deserves all the quality time with them he can get; you know he doesn’t get that luxury often. Copia was reluctant to break off at first, not wanting to leave you stranded on your own for the evening. After reassuring him a few times that you’d be alright, off he went.

That left you on your own for the evening. You met up with old friends and some of the Ghouls. The whole party had been lovely and great time of catching up with your favourite people. Good music and good drinks too.

After a long night of chatting though, the bar offered some peace and a moment to breathe. And you expect Copia will be coming to get you soon. The bar is an easy place for him to find you.

You know this drink is probably your last, so you sip leisurely, savouring the cool liquid as it runs down your throat. This is your second drink of the evening. Being Copia’s partner for some time allowed for his own drinking habits to wash onto you. You don’t let yourself get too tipsy now when you’re out with him. And you do want to have your head clear when walking home, in order to make sense of all the gossip he’ll surely have in store. For now you wait, tapping your feet and rubbing your hands, watching the time pass. 

He should’ve came way earlier, but you don’t get too anxious. He must be caught up in the conversation with his brothers, as expected if it’s free of work related duties; they could talk for hours if that’s the case, and you weren’t going to interrupt them. Instead, you affirm to yourself he’ll come eventually, telling yourself he can’t go without his beauty sleep, nor can he go too long without you.

You reach the bottom of your glass by the time Copia comes up behind you. And his entrance is nothing like you’ve expected.

The first thing that jostles your attention is the familiar sound of expensive boot heels clacking against the marble floor. Not unusual, if you can ignore the fact that the footsteps are uneven and staggered.

Before you even turn around to greet who you know is Copia, the barstool beside you is yanked out of its place from under the bar. The barstool’s feet scrape unnecessarily loudly against the floor, making space for the man who practially slaps his ass onto its seat.

“Dolcezza! Oh, how I’ve been looking for you!” With one arm slumped over the bar surface, Copia sits up straight— or atleast attempts to —on the barstool. He has a half finished margarita in the other hand. There’s a brightly coloured straw in it that twirls around in the glass as he wobbles. He looks unrecognizable compared to the start of the night. 

You hardly process what is happening and already Copia is fumbling for your hand. The leather of his glove is oddly warm as he captures your hand. In a less elegant fashion of how he usually does it, he brings your hand up to his lips. He plants a wet kiss on the tops of your knuckles, making an audible “mwah!” and leaving behind a small patch of saliva on your skin.

“Tonight ’as been wonderful! And you look s’ wonderful. Oh, where do I start…” Copia is so overwhelmed he gets all tongue-tied, deciding just to shut up instead. He tucks your hand back into your lap with a goofy, starstuck smile, edges of his lips curling into badly flushed cheeks.

You blink at him, at a lost for words. The Papa of your church, your sweetheart, someone who hasn’t been drunk in a very long time, is absolutely cheesed.

Copia can hardly hold himself upright when he downs the rest of his margarita, making a dramatic “mmh!” as he sets the glass down. His face scrunches until the burn subsides, then he exhales roughly. His hand smooths back his hair which is quickly becoming messy.

Messy is a good word to describe the rest of him. The clergy collar under his gold jacket is well on its way to undone, his skull paint is smudged and sweaty, and his hair— which you remember fondly helping him slick back in the mirror prior to the party —is sticking out at the sides like wings. He looks completely unkept but also very, stupidly handsome. Emphasis on stupid.

You blurt out the first thing that comes to mind, “Sweetheart, you are very drunk right now.” 

“What?! No-no-no-no-no. I’m jus’ a lil tipsy. Hehe.” Copia claims, voice betraying him with how it slurs on the syllables. He frantically shakes his head, which he regrets immediately; his whole body going rock solid. Suddenly horrified, you spot the universal sign in his face that he’s about to throw up. It only lasts for a second before he breaks and starts giggling.

Watching him carefully, he looks somewhat stable as he starts wavering in his seat again, smiling to himself like a toddler.

You have to say Copia surprises you sometimes, but you didn’t expect that tonight you’d be the one taking the two of you home. And it was time to go. He nearly threw up all over the bar and you are not risking anything worse. You want nothing else for your love except for him to be in his warm bed. 

Looking behind Copia to the chapel doors, you begin to estimate just long it’s going to take to get there, then get home. It’s past midnight now, sober Copia would agree that you two should boot it.

Meanwhile, drunk Copia’s distracted by the material in the outfit you’ve worn tonight, ducking forward to truly examine the handiwork that went into making it, mumbling noises of appreciation that you can’t fully hear over the music.

“Copia,” Voice slow, you rest a hand on his knee. He pops back up, and his head ends up tilted still with that ridculous smile. How it grows so quickly at the sight of you. His beloved, all dolled up and fancy for the evening, eyes radiating a sort of light that makes him breathless. Oh— how did he land you? He is such a lucky man. He cooes some sort of lovestruck babble, reminiscing in his mind on how fortunate life is that such a sweet person has become apart of it.

You give his knee a tight squeeze and he blinks out of his trance. Light glimmers off the side of his empty glass, and you wonder. Although he probably doesn’t know, you ask him, finger pointing at his emptied drink, “How many have you had?” 

He glances between you and the glass, confused at first. Then his brows jump up. “Ooh! Uh, just a teeny bit, darling.” He assures, emphasizing his point by pinching his index and thumb together. 

He shrugs, “Maybe four. No, uh. Five. I don’t know, I los’ count after six.” He studies the rim of the glass, clicking his tongue against his teeth nonchalantly. “Bah, s’however many Terzo had. It’his birthday, after all. Not a big deal. Non ti preoccupare.” The Italian sounds funny flowing off his tongue but doesn’t correct himself. 

When he goes to flick his wrist to call the bartender over, you quickly get to your feet. Copia gasps as you rapidly close the distance between you, as if you just ditched your shirt in front of him or flashed him.

You squeeze yourself between the bar’s edge and his body, forcing his full attention on you. When you tenderly tuck your arms around his cinched waist, Copia is completely at a loss of what to do. He just gawks with parted lips, watching what you do next with wide, curious eyes.

“You had lots of fun tonight, love. Time to go home, huh?” You call sweetly down at him, fingers playing with the texturing along his gold suit jacket. “Get some sleep?”

Copia is absolutely enthralled at the sight of you above him, holding him. He’s far too lost in the sauce when you gently comb back his messy hair and rest a palm against his sweaty cheek, thumb brushing against his smeared upper lip. He doesn’t even blink.

“Are you going to kiss me?” He questions innocently, handsome, foggy eyes gleaming up at you in wonder. “You touch me like this before you kiss me.” His voice goes awfully low there and the blush that invades your cheeks is fast and heavy. There’s no hidden meaning behind his words, he’s simply curious and genuinely wants to know.

You smile down at him, full and sincere, letting your hand drift down past his neck, onto his shoulder. You don’t answer the question, but you do take his hand. Your thumb caresses over the silky material of the leather, over his knuckles that slightly tremble in your hands. “You’ll get a kiss if you come along.” 

A promise that has Copia ready to go. With short little noises of anticipation and excited taps of his feets, he grins, “Okie dokie! Where we going?”

Hopping off the barstool, Copia immediately overestimates his ability to stand. You’re quick to catch him, sneaking an arm under his shoulders, saving him from going head-first into the chapel floor.

After slurred apologies in Italian for almost taking you down with them, you guide him towards the exit, in slow and careful steps. One arm around his shoulders, one hand pressed against his front.

He sighs, lowering his head, “I am very, very drunk, amore. I’m sorry.”

You steal a kiss behind his ear, in his hair, hidden from any eyes, “I know, sweetheart. Let’s go home.”

Copia hums softly in agreement.

Through the party attendees, you see Papa Secondo still with his brothers. A short glance of acknowledgement is all you need for a goodbye. He obviously sees the state of Copia and only dips his head in farewell.

Perhaps it’s the chapel’s lighting, but you swear you make out the tiniest amused smirk under Secondo’s dark paints. Moments later, Secondo snaps into older brother mode as Terzo wobbles on his feet next to him, reaching for Primo for balance. Terzo looks just as bad as Copia. You guess the two had a bet on who could do the most shots. You’ll find out the details tomorrow morning— that is if Copia even remembers what happened.

Outside the chapel, the air is calm and less dense; it doesn’t stink of booze and feels cool on your skin. The crowd thins completely by the time you reach the Papas’ wing. Copia, thankfully, didn’t wobble too hard on the walk, getting better with his balance the more time passed.

He talked in your ear nonstop, rambling about how good it was to catch up with his brothers. He rambled about Secondo’s dry sense of humour, Primo’s seemingly endless knowledge of the Abbey gardens, and how scarily good Terzo’s choice of alcohol was. You only nodded along, half listening. You were more occupied with making sure your next step didn’t lead to a pile on the floor of you and Copia.

By some blessing of Satan, you get to Copia’s quarters still on your feet. At this point in time, Copia would be the one opening the door, saying something cheesy as he offers you to enter first. But in this case, he’s more busy complimenting the choice of fragence you’ve chosen for the evening, babbling with his nose stuffed in your neck. You’re the one now who has to fish out the key from his pockets.

You stuff a hand down his back pocket and in your search Copia yelps in high-pitched terror. A startled, loud noise like you’ve just punctured him. 

That writhes him out of your neck and he exclaims, “You trying to cup a feel on your Papa?” He sounds absolutely flabbergasted at such a scandalous action. How dare you grab his ass, out in the open, in the hallway for anyone to see— although the hallway is completely empty.

He tries to desparately wriggle his butt away but do manage to hook a finger around the hefty key ring sitting in his pocket. You quickly more to unlock the door. “It’s cop a feel, Copia, darling.”

He sighs again, grumbling to himself, “Shit. I say stupid things, amore. Don’t listen to your Papa.”

The door falls open, revealing the expanse of Copia’s dimly lit suite. It’s exactly how you left it: video game controllers scattered over the small sofa, the box TV accidentally left on, with Copia’s rats curled into cozy balls along the throw pillows. Copia cooes in Italian greetings at one of his sleeping babies before you even close the door behind you. Just another short walk left until you reached the bedroom where you can finally get him into bed. He needs a bit of redirection as you go along, having to turn his attention to his bedroom door repeatedly, rather than his sweet baby who’s cutely snuggled on the sofa.

When you finally reach the bedroom, Copia’s weight gets heavier over your shoulder. The sight of his bed serving as a reminder for how exhausted he is. With your help, he lands safely on his side of the bed. He ends up sprawled awkwardly, on his back, long legs dangling off the bed. Although he looks uncomfortable right now, he’s safe in bed, and a short burst of relief blooms in your chest. The next part is going to be easier.

You leave his side briefly to rummage through his closet for his black tee and red sweatpants. You find it amongst old suits from his Cardinal era. You longed that those suits would someday make a comeback. Copia was well aware of your love for them. When you return to Copia’s bedside with his clothes over your shoulder, his softened breathing makes you realize he’s nodding off. Little hitches of breath hinting he’s almost there.

You lean down, brushing your nose against the soft locks on his head. Your one hand runs through the other side. A deep hum resounds in his throat at the feeling, slowly stirring.

“Copia, sweetheart. I gotta get you in your pajamas.”

He inhales softly, sleepy disagreement in his tone. He shakes his head left and right an infinitesimal amount. “Oh no-no, I can sleep like this, amore. It is too comfy.”

Despite his words, you start to tug at the sleeves of his gold jacket and he lets you, doing his best to assist by lifting his arms for you. You gingerly slip the jacket off his shoulders, careful not to tear one of the most expensive pieces in his wardrobe. Though you are surprised he hasn’t tore a hole in it himself at this point in the night.

You lay the suit jacket neatly over his dresser, moving on to his clergy shirt. Your hands are well adjusted to opening these types of button ups. You have lots of practice during heated makeout sessions. It’s alot easier now to take the thing off of him when he wasn’t moving. You get the buttons open in rapid succession without skipping a beat. A short glance up reveals he’s still awake, watching you blearily with crossed, half-lidded eyes. The white one glows dimly.

“You are good at getting me naked, dolce, heh.” He muses, a crooked smile pulling at his smeared paints from this own stupid joke.

“I have lots of experience, sweetie.” You finish the last button at the bottom and lean down to plant a kiss on his bare tummy, nestling your cheek against the trail of soft hair down there. 

He hums softly at your gentle attention. “That must help then, yes.”

You trail more kisses up his body, stealing all sorts of tiny, appreciative noises from him. You plant a final kiss above his heart before you help him shrug off the sleeves. You replace his shirt with his black tee, pulling the soft fabric over his shoulders and body.

His pants come off next, the laces undone quickly due to your muscle memory. Copia tries his best to help you by lifting his bum, then kicking off the legs. The sweatpants are looser and easier to put on, coming up on his legs smoother than the tight stage pants he was wearing. You leave his socks on and take a deep breath, standing back and surveying the worse of the mess you’ve made on the floor.

By then, Copia is almost out, half snoring in the blankets. One last swing of his legs over the bedside and you have him tucked in, warm under the covers, and pillow adjusted so he’s comfy.

When you go to give him a goodnight kiss, you realize he’s still in a full face of Papal paint. Although it’s badly smeared and sweated off, you can still recongize that he’s Papa IV. From previous experience, you know if he sleeps in that much paint, it will only create an unnecessary load of laundry, due to it ending up all over the pillows and blankets.

You find babywipes on the bathroom counter, stealing a handful for your own use. Usually, Copia’s nightly makeup routine is alot more complex, involving cleanser and expensive lotion— that isn’t happening tonight. Babywipes would do the job just fine. Scampering back to the bedroom, you crawl over the comforter on your side of the bed, tucking your knees against Copia as you lean over him, brow pinched in focus. 

With one hand, you still his head, the other starts to dab away the paints using a damp babywipe. Copia scrunches his nose and groans under your hands, attempting to turn away before you gently tug him back to face you. Paint ends up all over the fingertips but you pay no mind, reaching for another wipe.

“Just getting your paint off, sweetheart.” You coo, as if to a baby. It does work. Copia only grumbles sleepily in response, never attempting to cease your efforts. “Then you can go to sleep.”

It takes two full wipes to get the stubborn, thick black around his eyes. Another to wash away the black in his lips and cheeks. A few more to get the expanse of white on his forehead. You’re gentle as you clean him, holding his jaw up with one hand, using a zigzag motion to get the white off his chin, the rest along the edge of his neck. Checking your work, making sure you haven’t missed a spot, Copia’s voice startles you and snaps you out of focus.

“You will forgive me, yes?” 

Raising your gaze, Copia’s eyes are barely open. His sleepy, gravelly voice just audible for you to hear. Now, his crows feet and wrinkles are visible, showing his age; all the aging lines you fell in love with and have kissed endlessly. You don’t see the fourth Papa that the church knows well but instead, your Copia you’ve had the pleasure of loving. Hair all messy, cheeks puffy, your handsome man.

“For what?”

Copia smirks, closing his eyes. He raises his voice a bit more, still very quiet, “For getting shitfaced. Being an ass.”

You chuckle, wiping down the sharp angle of his nose. “You are an ass, that is true. But I forgive you.”

You dab away the specks of white paint almost missed, before tossing the large bundle of dirty babywipes to the floor. You’d clean it tomorrow, along with all the clothes. It’s too late in the night to do all that.

Looking down at him, admiring the soft shadows and lines of his face, you once again can’t help but comb back his hair, voicing resassurement in softened whispers, “As long as you had fun tonight, it’s okay.”

There’s a stretch of silence over the bedroom then. Peaceful and soothing, especially after a crazy night out. You allow yourself to wrap your limbs around him, slotting your leg with his own, curling an arm over his side and finding a precious love handle to squeeze. You glance between the paintings on the wall, mindlessly listening to the thrum of his heartbeat, until he speaks.

He must’ve been sobering up. “You told me I get a kiss if I came along.”

You click your tongue on the roof of your mouth, smiling, “I did.”

You find Copia’s bare cheeks to hold, grazing fingertips against his stubble. Although your fingers are speckled with dry paint, you don’t care. 

You really do touch him a certain way before you kiss him. Hands dragging back through his damp hair as you lovingly press your lips on his. You easily sense his exhaustion through how slow he kisses back. Barely dragging his lips to counter yours. Noses brushing, it’s lazy yet passionate, the best you can muster after a long night. Your hands run slow through his hair, nails skimming his scalp, just how he likes it. You dare flick your tongue through his parting lips and he faintly whimpers in your mouth, but that’s the most intense it gets. 

You part reluctantly, lips separating in an audible, softened pop. You smooth his hair back one last time, licking your lips and lying beside him. Naturally, you rest a hand over the curve of his belly.

“You are too good to me.” Copia mumbles tiredly in his throat. “Too good.”

“I love you.” You don’t know whenever or not Copia had heard you, his snores becoming louder as the minutes go by. You finally let your tired limbs relax, comforted and lulled to sleep by the knowledge you were both safe and sound— well, mostly that Copia was. 

You know he’s going to feel really bad in the morning, distraught that you had to do the work of getting him into bed, and you’ll never hear the end of it.

It’s going to take many times to convince him that you didn’t mind it at all.

---

The Promise of Tomorrow - Sebastian Sallow x Female! Reader

Summary: “As utterly ravishing as you are in that dress,” he whispered against your lips in-between kisses, “I can’t deny that I would much rather see it on the floor.”

A laugh bubbled past your lips despite yourself, and you let your palms trail down Sebastian’s sides until you reached his waist. You hooked your fingers through his belt loops, tugging his lower half flush against you, and his hands fell away from your face to brace against the wall behind you, effectively caging you between him and the cobblestone at your back. “Have some things planned, do you?” 

Alternatively summarized as you and Sebastian attending the Yule Ball together before he whisks you away to the Room of Requirement to do exactly what you might think.

Word Count: 7.4k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, explicit sexual content, Garreth wearing Aunt Tessie's robes

This was HEAVILY inspired by @sallowly 's Yule Ball animation which can be found here ! The dress/Sebastian's suit are directly referenced from her work. I'm eternally grateful for being given the chance to build off of her creation ♡

The full fic can also be found here on Ao3 as per usual

“What in Merlin’s name are you wearing?” 

Sebastian gaped openly at Garreth, internally fighting the laugh that threatened to spill forth from his mouth despite his best efforts to smother it. The Gryffindor was decked out in quite possibly the most atrocious set of dress robes he’d ever seen, and judging by the look on the red-head’s face, he knew it too. It was frilly and lined with lace, and the material looked like a curtain that had been snagged off a window and stitched into something resembling clothes. 

Garreth’s face contorted into a pained expression, chancing a look down at himself and curling his hands into loose fists. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“I’m sure you don’t,” Sebastian remarked, lifting his glass to his lips in a bid to hide his growing smile. “Can I guess? Please let me guess–”

“No,” came his flat reply. 

“What is it?” Ominis asked curiously, turning away from the long table of finger foods to join in the conversation. Unlike Weasley, he looked like the epitome of poised finesse in his dark, tailored suit. “Whatever it is, it smells old.” 

“Oh, it looks old too. Seriously, where on Earth did you find such an antique?” Sebastian teased, and Garreth’s eyes made a full trip around their sockets before he waved off the jab. 

“Ha ha, very funny. If you must know, these have been in the Weasley family for years–” 

“Clearly.” 

“Oh would you shut up? I get it, believe me, I know. My mother wouldn’t let me get away with not wearing them though, she kept pestering me about ‘tradition’ and a bunch of other pointless nonsense. I was fighting a losing battle trying to convince her otherwise.” 

Ominis chuckled softly under his breath and twirled his wand idly between his fingers, “And you didn’t think to just change into something more fitting of the nineteenth century because…” he trailed off, the question hanging silently in the air. 

Garreth grumpily shoved his hands in his pockets and frowned, looking over his shoulder towards the massive entryway leading into the Great Hall. Professor Weasley was standing watch, ushering students in with practiced ease, and when she caught sight of her nephew staring, her smile was enough to give away precisely why the Gryffindor had been forced to endure his family's horrendous dress code. “My aunt would rat me out in a second if I did. Look, can we just forget about the hideous outfit already? I need a drink.” 

Sebastian had half a mind to offer Garreth the stolen flask of Firewhiskey tucked away in his suit, but he was honestly more inclined to save it for himself. Unbeknownst to his friends, he was wound tighter than a spring, the anticipation coursing through his veins causing him to shake his leg to dispel the nervous jitters he’d been dealing with since arriving. While he’d gone on plenty of dates with you in the last few years, this would be the first time the two of you attended something so formal as a couple. Asking you to the Yule Ball had nearly put him in the ground with how anxious he’d been– but attending the dance together was a completely different story. 

He wanted the night to go perfectly. 

His expectations were driving him up the damn wall. If there was one thing Sebastian hated more than anything, it was surprises, and that’s exactly what tonight was. One giant, looming unknown that had him thinking circles around himself. Dancing wasn’t the issue– he was great at that. It wasn’t even the hundreds of prying eyes that would be glued to you both when you eventually arrived, because he was more than used to the attention that came with dating the Hero of Hogwarts. 

No, Sebastian was simply nervous to finally put his long awaited plan into action. 

Everything was already set up in the Room of Requirement for later, so all he had to do was make it through the bulk of the evening without combusting or making a fool of himself. He could do that… right?

“Your nerves are showing, Sebastian,” Garreth teased as he leaned over the endless selection of food and drinks. His green eyes were crinkled in amusement as he observed the nonstop tapping of the brunet’s foot, and Ominis hummed in agreement. 

“I’ve been listening to him fidget for the last twenty minutes. I don’t know why girls take so long to get ready– I’m tempted to go and find his date so he’ll finally relax.”

Garreth laughed, and in the split second following, Sebastian saw his eyes land on something over his shoulder and widen comically. “No need for that… damn.” 

Nothing could have prepared Sebastian for the sight that graced him when he turned around. 

There you were, looking equal parts ethereal and powerful. Your dress was like nothing he had ever seen before; it was the darkest, most striking shade of black, rippling around your legs as though it were made of liquid as you strode through the arched doorway with your head held high. Embroidered down the side and along the strapless neckline were tiny gold leaves that reflected against the candles floating overhead, giving you a regal appearance that put even Ominis to shame. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but Sebastian swore that as you walked further into the room, some of the leaves from your dress trailed behind you and dissipated into shimmering dust. 

You twisted your hands together nervously as your eyes scanned the massive crowd, searching for the one person who could make existing in such an overwhelming environment bearable. Sebastian’s legs started to move of their own accord, carrying him away from the table and closer to you at the same time your neck swiveled in his direction, and the way your entire face lit up when you spotted him imbued him with the confidence that he’d been lacking minutes prior. 

Everything else was muted during those tentative seconds it took him to reach you, and once he came to stop in front of you with his drink still loosely gripped in his hand, it was as if no one else existed within the cavernous ballroom– only the two of you. For a moment, all he could do was stare with his mouth hanging open like a fish. The flush that spread across your cheeks had his heart doing acrobatics in his chest, and he swallowed around the lump in his throat before setting his glass down on an empty platter floating by. 

“Hi,” you said meekly, flashing him an easy smile in an attempt to conceal your timorous demeanor. He didn’t need to know that you’d spent five minutes outside with Poppy talking you off the metaphorical ledge and fanning you frantically with her hands. 

“Hey,” he replied, instantly cringing at the dry greeting. He quickly added, “I don’t think words can do you justice, if I’m being honest. You look otherworldly, darling.”

Sebastian’s words did wonders to school your nerves, a wave of warmth settling over you like a blanket. The soft smile that spread across your plush lips made his heart flip in his chest, and when he held out his hand for you to take, the tension in your shoulders slipped away. “Thank you, you look rather dashing yourself. Green continues to be your color,” you mused as your palm met his upturned one, intertwining your fingers through his longer ones easily. 

He steered you into the room, heading for Ominis and Garreth again to give you time to get settled before the dancing started. When your eyes fell on Weasley, Sebastian watched as your brows shot halfway up your forehead, and he could hear the laughter in your voice when you asked, “Oh gods, what is he wearing?” 

“Don’t bring it up. Something about ‘tradition’ I think, but he’s well aware that he looks like a decorative rug.” 

You had to hide your smirk behind your free hand as you approached the two men. Garreth’s grin was blinding as he raised his glass to you in silent greeting, and Ominis must have heard you walking up, because he turned fully to face you with his kind eyes crinkled at their corners. 

“I obviously can’t say for certain, but if Sebastian’s inability to form words when you walked in was anything to go by, you must look beautiful.” The blond had a tiny Cauldron Cake pinched between his skinny fingers, and he popped it into his mouth without a second thought as a blush crept up your cheeks. 

“Thank you, Ominis, you do too.”

“I look beautiful?” He mumbled around his mouthful, and the sound of his muffled teasing contrasting with his neat appearance made you chuckle. 

You swatted his shoulder playfully and shook your head, “You know what I mean.” When your gaze shifted to Garreth, he seemed to hold his breath expectantly. “You too, Garreth. Pink looks good on you.”

The red-head rolled his eyes playfully, but he was still grinning from ear to ear. “I’ve been told that lying gives you wrinkles, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

He lifted his glass to his lips at the same time the enchanted orchestra in the corner ceased playing. Hundreds of heads swiveled towards the front of the room as Professor Black made his way to the podium, looking all too irritated to have to entertain students during the weekend instead of… actually, you had no clue what Professor Black did in his spare time. 

Probably kick Puffskeins and style his mustache. 

“Welcome all, to this year’s Yule Ball. I see the festivities are in full swing already, but I’d like to remind everyone that standard school rules are still meant to be followed even on a night such as this one. That means no floozy behavior, no consumption of beverages not otherwise provided for you, and for the love of Merlin– no smoking of Mallowsweet in school corridors. That has become a rampant issue that I would prefer to not have to deal with on top of everything else.” 

As the Headmaster continued monologuing, you managed to tune out the remainder of his warnings in favor of ogling Sebastian. Your hands were still intertwined, and he had tugged you closer to him so your arms were brushing against one another in his subtle attempts to get closer to you. He really did look striking in his dark green suit; it was the first time you’d been privy to seeing him so dressed up, and you bit your lip hungrily as potent, lustful thoughts filled your mind. It wasn’t until the room was full of thunderous applause that you realized the introductions were finished and your boyfriend was side-eyeing you as you blatantly stared at him. 

“Something on your mind?” He whispered the question directly against your ear, sending shivers down your spine and making your toes curl in your heels. 

Your hand in his tightened a fraction, and you cocked a brow slyly as your lips curled into a feline smile. “A few things, yes.” 

“Anything I’d like to know about?” 

“I’m sure you would, but there’s a time and a place. Don’t they say patience is a virtue?”

Sebastian hummed, trailing his thumb sensually along your knuckles as he smirked wickedly against your temple. “I find it to be more of a nuisance, but I suppose it would be a waste not to make the most of you in that dress. Would you care to dance?”

The Slytherin’s heart damn near hammered straight out of his sternum when you turned to stare affectionately up at him, the mixture of your love and desire so palpable in the air that he swore he could cut through it with a Diffindo charm. “I thought you’d never ask.” 

—

You didn’t think you’d ever felt so weightless in your life. 

Sebastian’s hand clasped in yours was like an anchor, keeping you grounded to the present moment as he tugged you along behind him up the winding staircase leading to the Astronomy Wing. He was moving fast– clearly eager to show you the ‘surprise’ he had waiting for you there– but he had the good grace to stay mindful of your dress and your inability to move as quickly as he could. The two of you had been sneakily stealing sips of his Firewhiskey throughout the night, so the faint buzz you had going was enough to make you slow down and consider every movement carefully as you ascended the steps. 

When you reached the top landing, the brunet’s neck craned sideways to cast an exhilarated look your way, his excitement a tangible entity that had butterflies erupting in your stomach. All through the night, Sebastian’s eyes and hands had been stealing telling glances and coy touches as he twirled you across the ballroom. You knew there had been hundreds of eyes on you at one point; the charmed, gold leaves around the lower lining of your gown had fallen away in trails of sunset colored sparkles that were bound to draw attention as you’d danced. But none of it had mattered– not with Sebastian gazing longingly at you like you were the only thing that existed. 

He was doing so now, and you found yourself burying your general dislike of surprises for the sake of the evening. Anything Sebastian had planned for you was something you were sure to love, you were already certain of it.

When the two of you reached the empty wall across from the familiar troll tapestry, Sebastian swiftly pulled you ahead of him and spun you around– more shimmering leaves wisping off of your dress as your back made contact with the cool stone behind it. You barely had time to register the brazen move before your boyfriend’s lips connected with yours, and then his broad hands were sliding up your neck to cup your face and tilt your head back to deepen the kiss impossibly further. He swallowed your startled gasp instantaneously, brushing his thumbs along your cheekbones so tenderly that it made your heart fucking ache. 

 Merlin– sometimes your love for Sebastian overwhelmed you. 

“As utterly ravishing as you are in that dress,” he whispered against your lips in-between kisses, “I can’t deny that I would much rather see it on the floor.”

A laugh bubbled past your lips despite yourself, and you let your palms trail down Sebastian’s sides until you reached his waist. You hooked your fingers through his belt loops, tugging his lower half flush against you, and his hands fell away from your face to brace against the wall behind you, effectively caging you between him and the cobblestone at your back. “Have some things planned, do you?” 

“Of course,” he replied with that renowned Sallow-swagger that made you melt. “But not before you get to appreciate all of my hard work.”

You hummed thoughtfully as you leaned forward to kiss him again, breathing in his intoxicating scent of cedar and something akin to old books. His tongue slipped in your mouth easily, tangling with your own so fluidly that you suddenly found yourself all too eager to discover what he had in store for you. Sebastian let you drink in your fill of him, groaning softly when you shifted your hips to grind lazily against his steadily growing erection, and then he was pulling back with a heated look in his eyes. 

“Riveting as this is, I don’t feel particularly keen on taking you in the middle of the hallway.”

On cue, you felt the wall against your back begin to change. The cool stone morphed into smooth wood, and the massive entryway to the Room of Requirement revealed itself as Sebastian seemingly gazed into your very soul. “No public canoodling? Your surprise must be quite something, then.” 

For the first time since finding him in the Great Hall, Sebastian looked nervous. He stepped back and rubbed his neck sheepishly, giving you a half-grin that you could have honestly mistaken for a grimace. “I certainly hope so… come on.” 

He extended his hand once again and you took it graciously, moving off the door to make room for him to push it open. The brunet ushered you in, letting you enter ahead of him, and you barely made it three steps inside before you were halting completely. Your eyes widened and your mouth fell open in silent shock as you took in the magical sight before you. 

The Room was full of floating candles like the ones in the Great Hall, only these ones flickered with deep blue flames that seemed to cast the space in what you could only describe as pure moonlight. The ambiance had been changed as well, working in tandem with the romantic lighting so flawlessly that you were certain you had to be staring at a painting. You made a mental note to remember to thank Deek for his evident assistance. Bright red petals had been strewn across the floor, paving a rather telling path towards the slightly ajar bedroom door on the opposite side of the chamber. What was inside, you didn’t know– but the contrasting red glow from within had your mind flooding with unrestrained fantasies that made your stomach flip. 

Your legs carried you deeper into the room as you took in every unique change to your secret space, and all the while, Sebastian watched you virtually glide across the floor. The enchanted leaves running down your dress added a new degree of magic to the whole scene; the trail of gold flakes that evaporated into sparkling dust made you look like some sort of enchantress that had snuck onto the school grounds, and he found himself following you across the petals towards the bedroom in a trance. 

Sebastian had seriously outdone himself. You had no words. 

Pushing the door open revealed more floating candles– the normal colored ones– and an amorous display that made your breath catch in your throat. He’d replaced the usual bed linens with silky, red sheets that reflected the candlelight beautifully. You spotted a bottle of wine perched between two glasses on the nightstand, and situated behind it all was a fresh bouquet of roses that left a distinctly floral scent in the air. 

A large part of you wanted to cry from the affection that flooded your brain, but you willed away the urge in favor of turning around to face Sebastian. 

He was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed– a hungry, almost insatiable look spreading across his features. Those lust-dark eyes of his were scanning you up and down like you were a whole meal, and given the set-up in the room, you were willing to wager a guess that his mentality was exactly that. The warm lighting in the bedroom bathed him in a seductive glow, and as handsome as he looked in his suit, you suddenly wanted him out of it. Pronto. 

“You’re speechless,” he observed, sounding almost timid as he spoke the words. 

“That’s a word for it.” 

“Good speechless or bad speechless?” 

You gave him a nonplussed blink before your brows slammed down, “Why in Merlin’s name would it be bad speechless?” 

Your ability to read Sebastian like a damn book allowed you to see the cracks in his confident facade as he dug the toe of his shoe into the stone floor. He shrugged, “I’m not sure. Maybe because I snuck in here and changed everything around. Although Deek did help some, so I guess I’m not solely to blame.” 

There were no thoughts in your head other than the rapacious desire to be close to him, and your heels echoed off the bedroom walls as you strode over to him in the doorway to yank him down to your level. You all but slammed your mouths together, stealing his breath with the intensity of your ministrations, and the action left little room for doubt. Sebastian returned the kiss with equal fervor, winding his arms around you to crush you against his front as you bit and licked at his soft, freckled lips. 

“You ought to stoke that confidence some more, because this is quite possibly the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for me.” Your praises did wonders to soothe his frayed nerves, seeing as you felt him relax under your touch as you sensually dragged your hands up to grip his strong shoulders. 

He chuckled proudly, pulling away to stare anticipatorily down at you with a smug look on his face. That was an expression you were all too familiar with. “You should know that where you’re concerned, I’m a split-second confidence kind of guy. The things you do to me and you don’t even know it…” he trailed off in a gravelly voice, and you shivered as you felt his palms begin skirting down your lower back to play with the zipper of your gown. 

“Oh really?” Your voice was airy, and your fingers dug into the smooth material of his blazer as you worked to maintain your composure. “Care to enlighten me?” 

Sebastian tilted his head to the side curiously before leaning down to brush a tiny kiss over the tip of your nose, “I’d much rather show you. What do you say? You want to let me take care of you, darling?” 

Your breath caught in your throat, rendering your tongue a useless paperweight in your mouth as it failed to form words, so you nodded excitedly instead and noted how Sebastian growled in response. Any awkwardness or uncertainty fell away when he claimed your lips again in a wet, needy frenzy, swallowing your surprised mewl as he walked you backwards towards the spacious bed. You felt his fingers return to your zipper and gently tug it down as the backs of your knees made contact with the mattress, and his hand on your hip kept you steady as his arm dropped ever-so-slightly to part the fabric of your dress. The velvety attire slipped down your body and pooled around your ankles instantly– a plume of gold sparkles erupting from it as it hit the floor. 

Sebastian broke the kiss to look down at you, his long, dark lashes fanning out across his cheeks as he took in your nearly bare form from head to toe. You followed the tight bob of his adam’s apple as his chocolate brown eyes roved over your breasts before they returned to your face, and then he was gingerly pushing you down onto the bed. 

As you scooted higher up the sheets, Sebastian’s gaze stayed glued to you while he shed his jacket, tossing it haphazardly to the side so he could begin undoing the buttons of his shirt. You watched him unblinkingly as he undressed– shamelessly licking your lips when his top fell open and revealed the taut plane of his stomach— and the fuzzy trail of hair leading beneath his trousers had your knees clenching together in anticipation. With his button-up discarded, all that remained were the pants, and he elected to take his time undoing his belt with calculated movements as his eyes bored into yours. 

“I’ve been thinking about this all night,” he admitted, and the metal clink of the buckle falling away punctuated the statement. “Gods– I was ready to leave the second you walked in, you have no fucking idea.” 

You shuddered from the intensity of his words, boldly dragging one of your hands down between your legs to feel the wetness that had begun to saturate your undergarments. The sight of you touching yourself sent Sebastian into overdrive– and he wasted little time in shoving his trousers down and kicking them aside so he was donned in nothing but his briefs. His arousal was straining against the thin cotton– so much so that it had to be bordering on painful– but he made no signs of discomfort as he seductively started to crawl up the bed towards you. 

As soon as Sebastian was within reach, you abandoned your soaked nether region to curl your fingers around his neck and pull him towards you, kissing him desperately. You ran your hands down his freckled chest, then wrapped your arms around his midsection to ghost the tips of your fingers along his spine. The shiver it elicited from him had heat pooling in your gut, and your need for him started to shift into something even more ravenous. 

Sebastian dropped himself down onto his elbows to minimize the space between the two of you as your tongues tangled, and as he settled his lower half against yours, he ground his straining member against your clothed cunt. He groaned unabashedly, the sound low in his throat, and your lips took to wandering along his jaw, down his throat, before settling against the curve of his shoulder to sink your teeth into the soft flesh. 

“Fuck– I can feel how wet you are already. How badly do you want it? Tell me,” he implored you, his eyes fluttering shut when you laved your tongue over the light imprint of your teeth. “Talk to me, darling, please.” 

Merlin, his voice alone was doing things to you that rendered your vocal chords useless. You tried speaking anyway. “P-Please,” you rasped out against his spit-slick skin. “Please Sebastian, I need you– I’ve needed you all night–” 

“All night, huh? What exactly were you thinking about while we were on the dance floor, hm? What filthy thoughts are swimming around in that pretty little head of yours?” 

The way Sebastian was rutting against you– tempting you with every snap of his hips– was driving you absolutely crazy with lust, and your head fell away from his shoulder against the sheets with a low moan as your nails raked down his sides. To your dismay, however, he ceased his movements to sit up and plant his hands on your wiggling hips, pinning you down in place. His toned arms flexed as he applied a fair amount of pressure in a bid to still your writhing against the silky covers, and you bit your lip in blatant frustration, narrowing your eyes dangerously. 

“Don’t look at me like that, I asked you a question. Tell me what you want– what you’ve apparently been craving all night. You can do that for me, can’t you?” 

Leave it to Sebastian to still find a way to make you beg for his cock. The nerve. You scowled up at him, “You’re really going to make me say it?” 

He had the audacity to laugh at your impatience. “I would make you scream it if I wasn’t trying so hard to be nice.” 

You had half a mind to taunt him further and clarify that really– this was him being nice? But then one of his hands fell away from your waist to trail closer to your drenched underwear until he had the pad of his thumb planted directly against your clit. That was the extent of his mercy, though. He made no move to provide you with any friction or stimulation– he simply stared at you expectantly. 

Dammit. 

Your hips twitched, unconsciously seeking the reprieve his fingers could offer you. It mattered little though; his strength kept you pinned firmly in place. “I-I want you to fuck me,” you mumbled, cheeks heating with slight embarrassment. 

“Anyone could fuck you, sweetheart. You need to be more specific,” he fucking purred the statement, making your head spin and your inhibitions fly out the damn window. 

“You,” came your wheezed response. “I want you– I want your cock, Sebastian, all I need is you. Please fuck me, I only want you, please.” 

The sight of you flushed and panting, bathed in warm candlelight as your hands fisted ardently in the sheets, drove all of Sebastian’s blood straight to his cock. It twitched enthusiastically within the confines of his briefs. 

You felt the pressure from his arm let up at the same time he removed his thumb from your aching center. Impatient didn’t even begin to cover how you were feeling, but you were all too pleased when his fingers finally pinched the fabric of your panties to tug the material down your bent legs.

Shaking his head in near disbelief, Sebastian groaned, “You sound like a fucking dream begging for it, darling. I’ll give it to you, I promise.”  

His words soothed you, but you still tensed a little when you felt the tip of his finger slip inside your overwhelmingly wet heat. You sighed and spread your legs further to accommodate Sebastian’s kneeled position, and he took to trailing his free hand over your hip bones, then up your torso to squeeze at your breasts as he willed you to relax for him. Releasing your vice grip on the sheets, you wrapped your hand around Sebastian’s thick wrist while he toyed with your sensitive nipples– effectively losing yourself to the euphoric sensation until he was knuckle-deep in your clenching walls. 

A keening sound resonated from deep in your chest as you rocked back onto Sebastian’s finger, testing the feeling, and you bit your lip hard at the rumbling groan your boyfriend gave in response. He leaned down to pepper kisses along your shoulder, sucking at your collarbone and gently nipping at your neck, and when he thrusted his finger minutely and curled it towards your stomach, you shuddered and dug your nails into his forearm.

“Come on,” you whined, bucking your hips more insistently in response to his painfully slow pace. The brunet nodded, pumping his finger deeper, and he couldn’t stop the moan that tumbled from his mouth at how fucking tight you were. 

Sebastian worked you with the single digit for a moment before tentatively adding a second, his blood igniting in his veins at the airy gasp you let slip. Your name fell from his lips like a plea, and when he leaned up slightly to gauge your expression, the half-hooded look you bore was enough to make his stomach drop. “Gods, you’re perfect,” he virtually whispered. 

By the time you were amply prepared for him, your hands had abandoned the sheets and his wrist to clutch tightly at his shoulders, your sounds growing desperate and needy. Sebastian continued to spread and twist his fingers, trying to map out precisely where to aim to reduce you to gasping screams just as he’d promised. You were beyond jittery, though, winding your fingers into his curly brown locs to tug his face towards yours and glare openly at him. “I’m about to jump your bones,” you growled, rolling your hips against Sebastian’s fingers urgently. “Come on, Sebastian, let me– fuck–”

Sebastian grinned wildly at the way your back arched clean off the sheets, the tight gasp you pulled into your lungs imbuing him with a need for you that rivaled his need to breathe. Without missing a beat, he withdrew his fingers and frantically set to peeling his briefs away to free himself from the restrictive material. His girth arched proudly against his stomach, swollen and red and so fucking tantalizing. Your eyes devoured him greedily as he tossed the pre-cum stained attire over his shoulder, and then he was crawling over you once again with an animalistic hunger reflecting in his eyes. 

Hooking your legs around his waist, Sebastian braced his arms on either side of your head, gazing at you longingly as the head of his leaking cock brushed against your slick entrance. It took an insane amount of effort for you not to nudge him forward with your heels– forcing yourself to remain pliant as he pressed into you at an achingly slow pace. Your eyes rolled shut at the feeling of being breached, savaging your lower lip with your teeth as inch after inch of Sebastian’s incredible cock entered you. A contented whine weaseled its way from his throat as he bottomed out, and you cracked your bleary eyes open to find the freckled man staring at you with the ghost of a smile on his lips. 

“W-What?” You muttered, trailing your hands up his muscular biceps before interlacing your fingers together around his neck. “Don’t make me beg again, I already said please.” 

“I was just enjoying the face you were making,” he said with a smirk, grinding his hips enough to have you trembling and arching. “Like you were trying really hard to hold back. It’s hot as hell.”  

You fought a smile, tugging him down by his neck to capture his lips in yet another dizzying kiss. Sebastian bit and licked at your mouth with reckless abandon as he swallowed the sounds his efforts pulled from you, and he sighed before pulling away to brush a few strands of hair off of your forehead. He thrusted suddenly into you– catching you off guard– and your breath hitched at the same time your head fell back, effectively killing the remainder of Sebastian’s patience. 

Dropping one of his hands to your waist, Sebastian withdrew his throbbing member enough so that when he snapped his hips forward, you were jolted up the bed slightly. “Ah–” your sharp cry reverberated off the bedroom walls, and his hold on you instantly became possessive. 

Grasping onto you like his life depended on it, Sebastian dug his feet into the bed to lend some force to his thrusts as he worked himself into an even tempo. It felt mind-numbingly wonderful to finally be encased in your warm walls after day-dreaming about it all night. His mouth fell open with a shaky groan when he pressed his balls against your raised ass, the friction doing you both a slew of favors, and his vision flashed a brilliant white when he felt you clench around his cock and suck him in even deeper. 

“Oh fuck– fucking hell–” Sebastian grit through clenched teeth, pushing himself up fully so he was no longer hunched over you. You unhooked your ankles from around him so he could maneuver your legs over his bent ones, gripping your thighs with a bruising strength that made your mouth dry up in a heartbeat. He had a perfect view of you laid bare under him this way, and he shamelessly watched as his cock glistened with your slick when he pulled out right before plunging back in. 

Your spine rounded, a guttural moan ripping its way from your chest as Sebastian picked up his pace while simultaneously pulling you down onto his quick thrusts. It was pure rapture having his hands on you– demandingly shifting you around to steal his pleasure from your tight heat as he sought out the deepest parts of you. At one point, he released his hold on one of your legs to plant his broad hand on top of your stomach, relishing in how he could feel his cock each time he slid home. It was addicting– you were addicting— and the thought lit a fire in his very soul. 

“S-Sebastian,” you whined, gathering the silky sheets in your clenched fists as wave after wave of sheer pleasure washed over you. With your legs held in the brunet’s strong grip, he had the freedom to fuck harder into your slick folds, pulling noisy cries of his name and desperate pleas for more from your kiss-swollen lips. Your voice was loud in the humid room, your moans echoing off the walls around the two of you– and when Sebastian bucked harder so the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the space– you gasped frantically and writhed beneath him. He had to be hitting a good spot.

“You’re stunning, darling– so fucking good to me–” Sebastian managed to grunt out, pounding his cock into you with temerity that made your looming finish all the more potent. “Fuck, you feel incredible.” 

“Right there, S-Sebastian, fuck me right there, gods–”

The muscles in your stomach were tensing, and you were honestly shaking from the vigor of his thrusts. Sebastian groaned, the sound of your pleading little whimpers driving him mad with undiluted need, and he watched you blearily try to figure out what was going on as he hoisted your legs up and threw them over his shoulders. He moved over you, bending you in half at the same time he rammed his thick cock back into your cunt, and you were hardly given the space to breathe before your boyfriend was fucking you hard— his hips bucking rough and deep and so fucking good that you were left mewling and grasping helplessly at the sheets. 

Sebastian pinned you to the bed and fucked himself into you, his own moans dripping loud from his lips as his hands tangled in your hair and tightened around the strands. The sting was delicious and left you with no choice but to allow your lover to pull you closer to him while he filled you up over and over.  He drank in the sounds you made as your back arched off the sheets the best it could under his added weight, your thighs shaking and muscles tensing until you were barely holding on. 

“Like that– fuck, Sebastian, just like that, I’m gonna come–”

Unable to give a more coherent response than a gasping whine, Sebastian dug his nails into your scalp and was rewarded with the sweet sound of you wailing his name as you came violently, riding your hips down into his as much as you could. Your hands flew to his back to rake angry red welts down his sides, and Sebastian let your legs fall from his shoulders so he could wrap his arms around you and bury his face into the crook of your neck. He sank his teeth into the sweaty skin as he gave you the last of his deep, quick thrusts before he was coming inside— your name tumbling over his lips like a mantra as he fell into bliss.

By the time Sebastian was anything approaching coherent, you were still shaking under him, your legs wrapped tight around his waist. “Fuck,” he murmured into the hollow of your throat, untangling his hands from your hair and smoothing the mussed locs down. 

Sebastian pulled out with a small groan– your hips seemingly lifting to chase the marvelous feeling of being filled– but then he was planting his elbows on either side of you to brace himself as he kissed you breathlessly. You melted under him, curling around him ardently when he finally let himself tip sideways beside you. His chest was heaving with the deep breaths he sucked into his lungs, and you happily nestled your head atop his shoulder as your hands took to tracing invisible shapes and patterns along the taut expanse of his stomach. 

You dozed off sometime after Sebastian had started murmuring sweet nothings in your ear, and when you awoke a few hours later, you were still draped over him, his fingers idly trailing up the shallow dip of your spine. Stretching the best you could without disturbing the peaceful vibe, you craned your neck to look up at Sebastian sleepily, and his eyes crinkled at their corners as he smiled down at you. 

“Good morning, beautiful.” 

“Mmph,” you grunted, voice thick with sleep. “Is it morning already? You should have woken me up.” 

He shrugged and glanced at the open bedroom door, noting the lack of sunlight streaming in through the skylight. “Early morning, but not daylight hours quite yet. I figured you needed the rest.”

Humming appreciatively, you closed the minuscule space between the two of you to kiss him gently, and he sighed against your lips as his hands roved up your back once more to play with your hair at the nape of your neck. Everything about the moment was pure, and you found it all too easy to get lost in the sensations dancing over your still-sensitive body.

Sebastian broke away first, gazing at you strangely before he abandoned your hair to reach for the nightstand. “I was going to do this earlier before everything, but I uh… got distracted.” 

You couldn’t hide the flush that crept up your cheeks at the reminder. “Hm, I wonder why,” you teased. “Do what, though?”

He finally found whatever he’d been rifling around for blindly and met your inquisitive stare, swallowing nervously. “I’ve been thinking about what’s going to happen after we graduate. I’m sure you have your own ideas, but I just thought– well, I’d obviously like to stay together. I can’t imagine not having you beside me, but that being said, I’ll respect whatever you decide, even if it isn’t what I want to hear.” 

Your stomach flipped over on itself, and your eyes went wider than saucers when Sebastian revealed a small, velvet box gripped tight in his hand. Pushing yourself off of him, he flicked the lid open with trembling fingers, and your gasp was drowned out by the hammering of your heart in your ears. 

Inside was a thin, gold band adorned with a tiny, emerald gemstone that sparkled brilliantly under the flickering candlelight. Your mouth fell open as the implications of the ring bore down on you, and when you looked back at Sebastian, his eyes were scanning your face to gauge your expression. 

“Is that…?” 

“It’s only a posy ring, but I thought that it might make the next few months easier to anticipate. You’re my whole world, darling. I can’t fathom parting ways after everything we’ve been through, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hope you felt the same.”

Warm, fat tears welled in your eyes then, blurring your vision before they were streaking down your cheeks without restraint. His anxiety leading up to arriving in the Room of Requirement suddenly made a lot more sense to you, and you realized that he’d planned all of this well in advance. How long had he been waiting to ask you? How long had he held onto the ring in the hopes that you would say yes? 

He still looked nervous, but it was drowned out by the complete adoration that glimmered in his dark eyes. 

“Yes,” you choked out, somewhere in-between sobbing and laughing as you sat up fully. “Yes, Sebastian– of course I feel the same.” 

Sebastian’s smile was blinding, and he plucked the ring from the box and slowly slid it on your extended finger, both of your hands shaking with barely contained excitement. It fit perfectly, and you gave yourself all of two seconds to admire the look and the feeling of it on your hand before you had flipped yourself to the side to straddle him. Your hands cradled his cheeks as you dipped your head lower to kiss him over and over, his soft laughter warming your heart and filling you with a sense of contentment you hadn’t known existed until now.

“I love you, Sebastian. I’ll travel to the ends of the Earth with you, never doubt that. My future is your future– my heart has always belonged to you– of course I’ll stay with you. Whatever is to come, facing it with you is all I want.” 

You didn’t think you’d ever seen him look so elated in all your time knowing him. His face lit up vibrantly at your declaration, and in a flash he had wrapped his arms around you to flip you back over so he was situated on top of you, gazing down at you with his hands running down your bare sides. 

He assaulted the entirety of your face with fervent kisses, laughing softly under his breath as you returned his affections with equal force. “I love you so much, darling. You’re my everything, I wouldn’t change a damned thing about the past knowing that it landed me here with you. I love you, I love you, I love you.” 

The remainder of the night was spent with the two of you beneath the silk sheets, the promise of tomorrow suddenly all the more exciting to imagine now that you knew Sebastian would be with you for the rest of your life. Posy ring or not, you’d already known that only death could take you from him– and even then you were certain you would find a way to keep loving him long after you were gone. 

Neither one of you would have it any other way. 

---

this makes me feel so warm and cozy

my wishes to you

• pairing: draco malfoy x slytherin!reader

• summary: you’re eager to celebrate your boyfriend’s birthday, but things don’t go as planned.

• request: here (it’s a bit long)

• warning tags: arguing,✨drama✨ for plot purposes, some angst (but all ends with fluff), briefly gets steamy

• word count: 5k 

a/n: I’ve been excited to write this one, but a mixture of school getting in the way and then me trying to reinvent my writing style made it take longer to finish, so I’m sorry about that :( but I do actually think this came out fairly well? you can be the judge of that ahah so HERE IT IS!! ❤

Keep reading

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sooo sweet

remus is very pretty (and overwhelming) in the morning.

The boys dorm is quiet in a way you’ve rarely seen. Stirring in Remus’ bed, you peer bleary-eyed through the curtains around his bedframe, seeing that the room is empty, the other beds adorned with crumpled-up bedsheets.

Faintly, you remember James mentioning something about an early-morning prank in the Great Hall, and decide to make the most of the solitude, laying back down next to Remus. He’s sleeping heavily, in a way that he only really does around this time of the month, a week and a half after his last transformation and a few days before the early symptoms of the next one start to creep in. 

Taking advantage of his state, you shift, laying your torso over his and tangling your legs together. Propping your chin up on his sternum, your eyeline is full of him. His neck, his face, the sandy hair sticking straight up from his scalp.

Despite having dated for months, you can’t help but get nervous when his introspective gaze is directed at you. For that reason, you often find yourself wishing you had more time to simply stare, before you get far too flustered and have to look away. So, despite wishing he was awake so you could talk, you figure you might as well capitalize on this rare form.

You allow yourself to melt on his torso, pressing your cheek against his sternum as your left hand comes up to rest delicately on his collarbone. Eyes roving over him, you take in the many intricacies of Remus. 

The jagged scars that track from his face down to his chest, the ones you know go all the way down to his heels. The little moon and sun tattoos he’s got on his left shoulder, stick and pokes that Sirius did when they were in first year. Moles and freckles that form constellations, ones that you can see on the insides of your eyelids whenever you get a bit too lovedrunk on him. 

You imagine you look quite lovedrunk right now, eyes dopey with sleepiness and adoration, not daring to look away for even a second. 

Soaking it in, your index finger begins to trace his skin as softly as possible. You follow a scar from his jaw to his clavicle, the raised skin rough against the pad of your finger. It’s a relatively new one. You remember the morning after his transformation, sitting in the Hospital Wing as Madam Pomfrey puttered around his bed, applying tincture after tincture to the angry wound. 

Repressing a shudder at the memory, you move on to a cluster of freckles at the base of his throat. They form a lopsided star, and you smile to yourself as you trace the shape over and over, eyes trained on the small spot of skin.

“...What’re you doing, dove?” You jolt softly at the interruption, looking up sheepishly at Remus’ lidded eyes. His voice is thick with sleepiness, a low rumble in his chest that sends sparks down your spine.

You get momentarily lost in his eyes, pools of amber and oak that seemingly go on forever. Only when he brings a hand up to your hip, squeezing gently, do you answer. 

“Just looking,” His lips quirk up at your words, thumb rubbing up and down your hipbone steadily.

“Looking? At what, me?”

You smile bashfully, your finger never ceasing its movements against his throat.

“Yeah. Just admiring you.”

He puffs some breath out of his nose in amusement, eyes glinting as the sunrise peeks through the windows.

“Yeah?” His eyes dance with mischief as he watches you.

Alright, that’s enough. You’ve endured it as long as you can, the all-too-familiar flush creeping up your neck at his intent gaze. With a groan, you raise your head, shifting your legs so you can begin to roll off of him.

“Hey, where’re you going?” A heavy arm comes up from your hip to wrap around your back, forearm keeping you clasped firmly against his chest. He laughs at your wriggling, his voice low.

“Thought you were admiring me, what happened?”

Realising the futility of your struggle, you give up, burying your face in his chest with a frustrated sound. Your voice comes out muffled, but he hears every word. He doesn’t think he could ever miss a word you say.

“Can’t do it when you’re looking at me.” You cringe at your own voice, the words sounding exceedingly petulant.

“No? That why you were trying to sneak it? Look at me while I’m asleep? Y’little creep.” His voice drips with affection, despite the torment of his words.

Your muffled cry of embarrassment softens him, his free hand coming up to card through the hair at the back of your head.

“Oh, I’m sorry, dovey. Y’know I like it when you look at me. Should I close my eyes for you?” 

You grumble at his words, flicking his side, taking advantage of his dramatic yelp to roll out of his arms.

“You’ve ruined it. No more admiring today.”

His strangled sound of protest follows you all the way out the door.

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Control

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: filthy smut with a smidge of fluff, femdom, restraints, blindfold, 18+

Word Count: 1.7k

THE MOOD™ CONTINUES. Inspired by this ask. Oops.

Bucky isn’t one to relinquish control. He needs it like he needs air, needs to be two steps ahead of any situation, needs to feel like he’s ready for whatever might come his way. And when he’s in control, he is. He’s always ready.

Except when you tempt him not to be.

Your lips and tongue taste of fine champagne, tart and strawberry sweet – heady with love and lust and everything he’s ever wanted. When he kisses you a little more roughly, your pretty plum lipstick smears. It stains his mouth, and then his cheek.

Just a peck.

Just enough to disarm him before you shove him down onto the bed. His body bounces a little when he lands on the mattress, and Bucky stares up at you in surprise.

Keep reading

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Sudsy Confessions - Sebastian Sallow x Female!Reader

Summary: As the end of the school year continues to creep up on all of the seventh-year students, Sebastian has thought about what’s to come after graduation shamefully little. He’s equal parts annoyed and worried that he doesn’t know what he wants to do with his life, and he’s even more frustrated that he’s running out of time to tell you how he really feels about you. When a chance opportunity finally presents itself, Sebastian seizes the moment, even if the setting is a little… unorthodox.  

Alternatively summarized as Sebastian confessing his long-harbored love for you while you’re naked in a bathtub. 

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, explicit sexual content, love confessions, bathtub sex

Full fic can also be found here on Ao3 with more diverse tags :))

It was rare for Sebastian to get so bent out of shape over Quidditch. Especially since it had been an unofficial scrimmage between him and a handful of friends– which he had still won, mind— but it was the topic of discussion that had transpired after the actual event in The Three Broomsticks that had gotten him all hot and bothered, and there was no way around the truth of the matter. 

Garreth had brought up graduation. 

It was a topic that Sebastian had done his best to steer clear of since he had yet to formulate a plan for himself after Hogwarts. Apparently Weasley would be starting an apprenticeship with J. Pippins at his shop in Hogsmeade, which had warranted a few hesitant congratulations from the rest of his motley group. It was obvious that Leander and Imelda assumed the same thing Sebastian did; that Garreth would probably blow up the shop soon after starting. 

Then there was Imelda. Headstrong, resilient, and determined to prove herself. She fully intended on trying out for the Holyhead Harpies Quidditch team after graduation and refused to believe she would do anything but succeed. There was no reason to doubt her at all– she’d always been masterful on her broom and had set new records left and right since Professor Black had reinstated Quidditch again. Sebastian only hoped that he was well out of sight in the event things didn’t go the way Imelda wanted them to. 

Leander had taken a bit of a sharp turn somewhere between the start of school and the present moment and apparently wanted to apply to work at the Ministry. Specifically, he’d been talking about joining the Council of Magical Law– evidently finding the power that would come with such a position all too appealing. Sebastian couldn’t help but think it was rather on brand for the Gryffindor to think as much, but his encouragement had been lukewarm all the same. 

Though he hadn’t joined them at The Three Broomsticks, it was already known that Ominis was also thinking about working for the Ministry, but with a different motive. He wanted to get more closely involved with the Muggle Liaison Office for reasons that continued to escape Sebastian. Whether it was to learn more about their differences to wizard-kind or to spite his family further, Sebastian didn’t know, but he was frankly inclined to believe the latter. 

Then there was you. The enigma, the mystery– the great unknown that had turned his entire world upside down from the moment you’d walked through the Great Hall doors two years ago. He had no clue what your plans were after graduation, and not knowing was slowly eating him alive. It had less to do with being kept out of the loop and more to do with his unspoken feelings for you– feelings that he had been keeping to himself for years now in a bid to keep his friendship with you unmarred. After your tumultuous fifth-year, it had understandably taken some time for the two of you to get back to any semblance of normalcy, and now that graduation was approaching, he couldn’t help but feel like time was slipping through his fingers. 

Sebastian’s previously upbeat demeanor had darkened considerably after that conversation, leading him to bail entirely on drinks at the pub in favor of returning to Hogwarts to wallow in self-pity. 

He’d moved in absolute silence following his return, a metaphorical rain cloud looming over his head as he’d gone to his dorm to grab his toiletries and a change of clothes before setting off for the Prefect’s bathroom. Friday nights were notoriously quiet now that everyone’s N.E.W.T’s had been completed, and Sebastian relished in the solitude that he always found in the spacious washroom. Sneaking in and using it was well worth the risk if it spared him from more idle conversations with his fellow classmates. 

It wasn’t unusual for the door to be locked– due in large part to the fact that it always was– so he undid the latch with his wand and shouldered the door open, barreling into the humid space with the grace of a hurricane. He tossed his items down on the countertop beside the sink and ripped his toothbrush out of his bag, shoving it in-between his lips as he turned the faucet on and rifled around for his bath soaps. Disappointment clouded his mind as his thoughts wandered back to you and the unknown future. It wouldn’t take much more than courage and a slim chance for Sebastian to get his feelings for you off his chest, but his fear of rejection kept him rooted in place. He was certain that at this point, it always would. 

“Keep running the water like that and you’ll drain the entire lake,” a familiar voice said from somewhere behind him. Sebastian damn near choked himself with his toothbrush as he whirled around to face the culprit, and then he found himself on the verge of fainting when he realized it was you. 

You were lounging in the massive tub with a smile on your face, not at all bothered by Sebastian’s sudden intrusion. Your hair was pinned up off of your bare shoulders in a messy heap, and the brunet stood no chance at concealing his blatant double take when he caught sight of your wet skin. The bulk of your naked body was covered by the scant spread of bubbles, but the tantalizing view of your collarbones had a flush rapidly spreading across his cheeks. 

“I– shit– I’m so sorry, I didn’t think anyone was in here,” Sebastian frantically mumbled around his mouthful of toothbrush. Dammit, he sounded like a fool. He ripped the thin stick from his mouth and spun back around to shut off the faucet and hastily gather his belongings from the counter. 

“You didn’t really knock to find out, but it’s fine. Don’t rush off on my account.” 

Your nonchalant tone made him pause, and he hesitantly lifted his head to stare at your reflection in the mirror. True to your words, you seemed wholly unbothered by his presence, simply continuing to bask in the warmth of the water as the steam wafted up into your face.

There wasn’t a chance in hell he could have anticipated something like this happening. 

Almost reluctantly, Sebastian dropped his towel back onto the countertop, instead picking up the paste for his toothbrush before setting to work brushing his teeth. He watched through the mirror as you raked your wet fingers through the free strands of hair that had fallen in front of your face, and the sound of the disturbed water dripping down your arms echoed through the space. “Did you win your scrimmage?” Your eyes never wavered from his in the reflection, and he nodded. “Go out for drinks afterwards?” Another nod, switching to brush the other side of his mouth. “Ominis and Garreth?” Sebastian shook his head. “What, Garreth and Leander?”

He mumbled around a mouthful of foam, “An’ Imelda.”

Your expression pinched into one of confusion as you mused, “I thought you didn’t like drinking with Leander.” Sebastian only shrugged in vague response before bending forward to spit and rinse, trying incredibly hard to not think about how very naked and wet you were presently. He was unsuccessful. 

 For a brief moment, Sebastian debated on changing into his pajamas and leaving despite having come to bathe, but something possessed him to turn around and contemplate you after he turned off the faucet. The easy smile on your face and your half hooded eyes almost knocked him out, and he swallowed thickly. 

What was it he had thought to himself just moments earlier? Courage and a slim chance? Was this not exactly that? 

“Hey,” he muttered softly, his voice almost a whisper. “What are your plans after graduation?” 

You tilted your head to the side in visible confusion, a strand of hair falling in front of your eyes seductively from the movement. He tried not to stare too hard. “Plans?” 

“What will you do once it’s time to leave? You haven’t said anything to me about it– or Ominis,” he added quickly. “We were talking about it in Hogsmeade earlier, so I was just wondering.” 

You seemed to ponder his question for a minute, your wandering hands coming to a sudden halt in the mass of bubbles. Truthfully, you hadn’t brought it up to either of the Slytherin men because you hadn’t come to a final decision yet, but it made sense that with the completion of your N.E.W.T’s, people would begin planning their post-Hogwarts lives. The thought made you equal parts sad and nervous. 

“I thought about getting a job at first… to make a name for myself and save money, you know? But honestly, I think I might travel. I’ve explored virtually all of the Highlands for ancient magic sites and I think I’ve hit a dead end. I want to learn more about Isidora’s magic– the power from the Repository is still as much of an unknown now as it was two years ago. It’s just collecting dust inside of me at this point.” 

Sebastian gave you a nonplussed blink and did his damndest not to sound paranoid when he responded. “Travel? Where exactly were you thinking?” 

You shrugged and averted your gaze to the bubbles in front of you. Of course Sebastian would be displeased to discover that yet another person from his life would be departing it so soon. It was part of the reason you’d been keeping your intentions to yourself for so long. Nonetheless, you answered softly, “Maybe to Poland. Isidora’s notes mentioned that she originally hailed from there–”

“Poland?” Sebastian’s frantic voice cut you off, and he found his legs carrying him to the edge of the bathtub to kneel there and bore holes in the top of your head from across the water. “You would go that far to chase after a maybe? You don’t know for certain if looking out there will even bring you any new information– it sounds incredibly reckless.”

You fixed him with a hard, telling look. “That’s rich, coming from you. Who was it that refused to let up in his search for a cure for all of fifth-year?”

His brows slammed down atop his narrowed eyes, “That was different.” 

“How is it any different?” You sounded exasperated, and he sighed indignantly. “You wanted answers, and you never stopped looking for them. You had nothing to go off of, much like myself presently, and you were willing to do anything if it meant saving Anne. I want to use this power for something good, Sebastian. I can’t do that if I don’t know how it works. Leaving is the only plausible outcome for me.”

“It would be that easy for you, then? To leave and disappear for who knows how long searching for who knows what? Would you have even told me if I hadn’t asked just now?” 

It would be that easy for you to leave me, is what he really wasn’t saying. 

You shook your head at him, completely bewildered that he was so affected by your revelation. “Eventually, yes, I would have. I don’t understand– why do you care so much? You of all people should know I would keep in touch; I’ll send owls every week, keep you updated on where I am and what happens. Going our separate ways was practically always in the cards, Sebastian.” 

Some tiny, annoying part of him had always known that. Living at Hogwarts was a blissful reprieve from the real world, offering himself and other students a sanctuary from the concerns and problems of adult life. Hearing you voice your thoughts was a completely different thing, however, and Sebastian was woefully unprepared for the dawning realization that he wouldn’t be able to see you anymore.

He silently cursed himself for having taken this fucking long to accept how empty he would feel without you beside him. 

“Sebastian,” you whispered from across the tub, and his eyes slid shut at the sound of your gentle voice. It hurt too much to fathom not getting to hear it again, or not being able to see you and crack stupid jokes with you in the middle of Potion’s class. He wouldn’t get to duel other students with you in Crossed Wands, or go to Hogsmeade to drink Butterbeers and stop by the lake on your walks back to skip rocks. All of it would end, and he would be alone. 

Again.

“Sebastian,” you said again, and the closer proximity of your voice had him cracking his eyes open. You were directly in front of him now, evidently having left your spot on the other side of the bath to siddle directly up to the ledge in front of him. Your wide eyes gazed imploringly up at him, and your grip on the edge of the tub was white-knuckled. “Why do you care so much?” 

“How could I not care?” He forced the words out while he still had the courage, seemingly gazing into the depths of your very soul as he stared down at you. His words had your eyes widening further as a flush crept up your neck onto your cheeks, and before you got the chance to say anything, Sebastian was leaning down to capture your lips in a desperate kiss. 

A surprised squeak weaseled its way from your throat as he lifted his hands to cradle your head cautiously, and you weakly curled your fingers around his wrists as he dipped lower to accommodate for the awkward angle. Sebastian kissed you hungrily and passionately– in the way he had dreamed of doing for years. He licked along your lower lip and bit gently at it, pulling a gasp from your parted lips before one of your hands came to rest on his bent knee, leaving a wet handprint behind in its wake. 

After a few heated moments, Sebastian broke away to look at you through his lashes, more surprised than anything to discover that your face was an open book; a mixture of shock and hesitance was etched into your features while something much hotter burned in your eyes, making his head fucking spin. 

“Sebastian, I– ah…” 

He let you go and sat back on his heels then, crossing his arms over his knees and resting his chin on his forearms as he peered at you nervously. There were a thousand different things Sebastian wanted to blurt out, but he settled for staying quiet as he waited for you to say something– anything.

You gaped up at him for a moment, blinking slowly as the flush across your cheeks darkened considerably. “How long?” 

He shrugged timidly before he said, “Ages. Since fifth-year, if I’m being honest.” 

“You didn’t… say anything?” His curly brown locs brushed across his forehead as he shook his head. “Why?” 

“After everything that happened in the Catacombs, I was terrified of fucking things up again. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship– I wouldn’t have been able to handle it. So I just… kept my feelings to myself. But now you’re telling me you would leave– that it was always inevitable things would end this way– and I can’t accept that. I refuse to.” 

You didn’t know what to say. Your mind was reeling from Sebastian’s revelation, and your heart was hammering away in your chest so loudly that you were certain he could hear it. Of course you felt the exact same way, but much like Sebastian you’d been worried about ruining things or complicating your already tentative relationship– especially after the events of your fifth-year. But now here he was– on his damn knees confessing to you– and your thoughts of the future vanished completely from your mind. 

Biting your lip, you stared up at Sebastian for a moment with wide eyes. One of your hands rose off the edge of the tub to trail your wet fingers across his cheek, and as Sebastian’s freckled face moved away from his arm to swim clearly into view, you stood straight out of the water invitingly and let him wrap his strong arms around your bare waist. As the water beading over your skin soaked through Sebastian’s shirt, his eyes flickered between yours, searching for the hesitance he’d seen there before. 

It was nowhere to be found.

When your lips met with his again, the softness had left them, and the two of you kissed one another hard and needily. Sebastian straightened and nipped at your lips, smiling against your mouth as you melted into him, and your breath caught somewhere in your throat when his tongue slipped into your open mouth to tangle with your own. Holding you tighter, Sebastian trailed his hands over your slick skin– traversing up your spine and into your unruly hair to tangle his fingers in the strands at the nape of your neck. He kissed you desperately, moaning softly into your mouth when he felt your hands sweep across his shoulders to fumble with the buttons at the front of his shirt. 

You’d made it about halfway down the row of clasps before Sebastian grew impatient, freeing one of his hands to deftly undo the buttons with a practiced finesse that made your mouth water eagerly. He panted along the curve of your jaw as he undressed, biting and sucking at the skin of your throat until he was pulling away to shrug the damp material off of his shoulders. His tie was still snug around his neck, clamping the collar of his button-up in place, and he growled as he loosened the thin bit of fabric before yanking it over his head and diving back into the kiss like he’d been starved of your very essence. 

Until now the bizarre angle had proved to be a non-issue– but then the pressing matter of his trousers came to light, and you felt as Sebastian blindly palmed at his belt buckle in a bid to undo it. “Need help?” Your coy offer whispered against his lips sent shivers up his spine, but he was too frantic and greedy to give you the chance to assist.

Those toned, capable arms released you so he could stand fully, his lust-dark eyes never wavering from yours as he finally succeeded in unlooping his belt from around his waist. “Just don’t move and keep watching like that– it’s helping me plenty.” 

You flashed him a mocking pout but did as he asked, settling back into the water and scanning his body longingly as he stripped down to his briefs. He teasingly ran his thumbs under the waistband of his undergarments and shot you a smug look, all too pleased with the way you licked your lips when he eventually began slipping the attire down the delectable ‘V’ of his hips. The sight of Sebastian biting his lip as his cock sprung free and arched proudly against his toned stomach had you halting your movements, though, and you audibly whimpered before the brunet threw his briefs over his shoulder and descended into the soapy water with you. 

In a flash he had you back within reach, his hands coming to cup your rear as he silently prompted you to jump into his arms so he could carry you through the water towards the rim of the massive tub. Your back bumped against the tiles there, and Sebastian took full advantage by pressing himself into you more firmly. The hard, stiff length of him rubbed tantalizingly against your folds, and you sighed contentedly before his mouth was on yours once more. 

The two of you languidly kissed for what seemed like forever, and you were more than willing to continue for as long as Sebastian saw fit. When one of the hands he had against your rear began to slip lower into uncharted territory, you smiled against his lips and huffed out an airy laugh. “Eager, are you?” 

“Shut up,” Sebastian murmured against your mouth, holding fast to your bottom harder and with greater fervor. “You have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming of this.” 

You arched your hips against Sebastian’s and drew in a shaky breath at the sensation of his shaft grazing over a particularly sensitive spot. “Then show me,” you implored. 

Growling again, Sebastian wrangled you around until you were kneeling on the ledge with your back to him and your hands braced on the rim of the bathtub. His hands were seemingly everywhere; sliding down your shoulder blades, scratching at the curve of your waist, then ghosting down the backs of your thighs as he nudged your legs apart further. You felt as he leaned forward to press a chaste kiss against the outline of your spine, and there wasn’t a chance in hell you could smother the shudder of delight that coursed through you. Sebastian moved on swiftly, though, and began pressing messy, open-mouthed kisses against your lower back, curling his hands around your hips before you felt him descend closer to your nether region. In your current position, it was just barely peeking above the thin layer of bubbles within the tub, and you heard the water slosh around Sebastian as he dropped to his knees and came face to face with your most intimate parts. 

The broad slick of Sebastian’s tongue sliding through your folds pulled a startled gasp from your lips, and your forehead fell against the tile with a soft, stuttered moan. The feeling of him tasting you– achingly and deliberately slow– had you shaking in earnest as you bit your knuckle for a semblance of control. You were struggling against the urge to rock back into his ministrations, eventually settling for reaching between your spread legs with your free hand to rub at your clit for some added reprieve, but then Sebastian slid his palms from your hips to your inner thighs to nudge your hand away. 

“Let me take care of you,” he whispered to you, and you mewled softly before tucking your hand against your chest and nodding. “Don’t hold back, either. I want to hear you.”

You were on the verge of responding, but the way Sebastian slid his tongue over you again drove whatever words you’d formulated straight out of your head. His hands ghosted along your skin as he lowered himself further, the tops of his shoulders completely submerging beneath the soapy water, and he took care to trail his fingers slowly down the sensitive skin of your inner thighs as he made himself comfortable behind you. 

Sebastian laved his tongue over you gently and encouragingly, then experimentally stiffened the muscle before poking it inside of you, leaving you whining and gasping his name. The brunet pushed his tongue in deeper then, moaning in response to the hitch in your voice as he pressed his lips against your folds and fucked the muscle into you slowly. 

“Gods, S-Sebastian–”

The man in question sighed and picked up his pace, flicking his tongue into you and dropping messy kisses against you. One of his hands slid up to your clit, brushing two of his fingers over the bundle of nerves with a moan, and when he leaned in hard to fuck his tongue as deep as possible into you, your high, airy whimpers made Sebastian’s head spin. 

With one last pump of his tongue, Sebastian pulled away, grinning at the way you twitched in response to his efforts. You heard the water stir and felt the warm, wet weight of the Slytherin drape over your back as he leaned forward to kiss across your shoulder, his hands running soothingly up the sides of your waist. 

“Fuck,” Sebastian breathed out, prompting you to turn and look at him over your shoulder. Your half-hooded eyes and parted lips sparked something in him then, and when you reached back to tangle your fingers in his hair, the brunet leaned in to meet you gladly. You moaned into the kiss, drawing a like-minded sound from Sebastian when you ground your hips back against his throbbing member. His thick hands gripped at your waist tightly as he gasped against your mouth, a desire unlike any he’d ever experienced overtaking him in a matter of seconds. The urge to feel you encasing him was overwhelming– enough so that for one brief moment, Sebastian allowed himself to press so hard against you that it stole your breath and smothered your senses. 

“Sebastian,” you groaned from beneath him. Your gaze sought him out, but his own eyes were pinched shut as he relished in the ecstasy that fell over him from merely grinding against you. It wasn’t simply the act itself that was doing it for him. It was knowing that he was doing it with you. Everything he had craved for two whole years was finally coming to fruition, and despite wanting to relish in every second of it with you, Sebastian was losing himself to his impulses. You called to him again, “Sebastian, please.” 

His chocolate brown eyes cracked open at the sound of your voice coupled with your incessant tugging on his hair, and his shaky sigh told you everything you needed to know; he was incredibly eager. 

“S-Sorry,” he stammered out, swallowing thickly in a way that drew your attention to his bobbing adam’s apple. You merely shook your head in silent dismissal, then rocked back against him to spur him into motion. If it was guidance he needed, you were more than happy to provide it. “I don’t know how much longer I can draw this out,” he admitted with a low voice, and as though to punctuate the statement, you felt his fingers dig into the skin of your hips to prevent you from moving against him any further. 

“Then don’t,” you insisted needily, yanking lightly on his hair once more to goad him into moving. “I’m ready if you are.”

“If it’s all the same to you,” Sebastian murmured, his voice gravelly and directly against the shell of your ear. “I’ll be the judge of that.” 

You shivered in anticipation when you felt one of his hands trail down the swell of your rear to probe at your slick entrance with one of his fingers. His other hand traced soothing circles against lower back, relaxing you further until you had melted against the rim of the tub with your neck craned to the side to watch Sebastian as he worked. 

When he sank one of his fingers into you slowly, you let loose a shaky exhale and felt a flush creep up your neck and onto your cheeks, leaving Sebastian biting his lip at the wanton image you made as he pressed the digit knuckle deep. Thrusting slowly, he eventually managed to work a second finger into you, trying not to think too hard about the way you looked spread around him, or the way you moved back against him, or how fucking wet you were. 

“Sebastian,” you groaned. His eyes flicked back up to yours, entirely certain that he looked just as fucking needy as you did– especially given the way you shivered and rode back against his hand a little harder. “C-Curl your fingers down a little–” he did so, and was instantly rewarded with a telling jolt from you. “Oh fuck– there–” 

The sound of Sebastian moaning to himself was almost lost in the way you were gasping and keening, and he moved his hand from your back to your hip to hold you in place as he followed the same path you’d instructed him to with his fingers. He thrusted a little harder, curling his digits against your sweet spot, and the way you arched your back and spread your thighs as far as you could without slipping while you gasped for Sebastian was fucking intoxicating. 

It was too much. 

Sebastian pulled his fingers free and reached towards you without a second thought, coiling his arm around your waist as he leaned in to kiss you again. You couldn’t help but whine at the way his cock rubbed against you, and you were near boneless in the brunet’s arms as his lips molded to yours and his tongue delved into your mouth. His strong arm held you fast to him as the other braced against the rim of the tub, holding him steady above you as he kissed you senseless. When he finally broke away to catch his breath, you practically sagged into the water beneath him. 

“Merlin, Sebastian…” 

“Are you okay?” The Slytherin’s voice was rough when he asked, low and raspy with arousal, and once you gave your enthusiastic approval, Sebastian reached between the two of you to line himself up before pressing into you. 

Sebastian’s eyes squeezed shut at how you felt around him; tight, hot, and utterly incredible. He just barely managed to keep his composure as he slowly filled you, and your scarcely stifled gasps and keening whimpers were decidedly not helping him keep his wits about him. Every fiber of Sebastian’s being urged him to ram his cock into you– to fuck your brains out and hear his name spill from your lips in breathless screams. When he finally did sheathe himself all the way inside of you, he melted against your back, holding you tightly and whispering your name against your ear over and over again. 

“Fuck, you’re…” you trailed off, subtly shaking against Sebastian’s damp skin. “You’re b-big.”

“Gods, darling,” Sebastian breathed, exhaling roughly into the nape of your neck. “Can I move?” 

You gave a stuttered assent, but you were still insanely tight around his cock, so for both your sakes when Sebastian pulled back a little and rolled his hips back in, he did so slowly in a bid to test the waters. 

No pun intended.

Your choked moan was more than enough of an answer for him, so he worked to set a slow, deep rhythm, buying himself time to get used to the heat wrapped around his cock. The gentle sigh that emanated from you coupled with the way your back bowed ever so slightly told Sebastian that his restraint was appreciated. But then you were glancing back at him from over your shoulder, and the rosy flush that colored your cheeks combined with your glazed over eyes nullified the majority of his self-control. 

Sebastian blindly trusted you to keep steady on your knees as he gripped your hips to thrust into you harder, moving faster and giving gasping moans as you tensed and groaned, squeezing him in the most perfect way. He pulled you back onto his cock, adjusting his hips so he could fuck into your sweet spot, and the way you arched under him and cried out was fucking amazing. 

“Oh f-fuck, Sebastian,” you moaned, reaching back to tangle your hand in his damp, brown curls, and Sebastian let you tug him closer so he could mouth along your shoulder, tasting the sweet-smelling bathsoaps as he went. The water splashed around you both, and you swore softly as a small wave of sudsy water sloshed up the side of the tub and sprayed you in your face. 

Taking note of your predicament, Sebastian slowed his movements and angled his head so he could murmur directly in your ear, “Do you want to move?” 

“We could, but– damn, Sebastian–”

Sebastian didn’t want to fucking move. He did want to see your face, though. He pulled out swiftly, and before you could move to climb out of the water, he grabbed and maneuvered you around so your back was pressed against the side of the tub with your legs bent over his elbows. When he reached back further to grip the rim of the tub on either side of you, he sank back into you with a low moan. Water wasn’t the most spectacular of lubricants as it turned out, but you were naturally slick enough that it was essentially a nonissue.

The expression that spread over your flushed face drove Sebastian a little crazy. He moved hot and slow, pulling back far with every aching thrust before filling you up and making you whimper. It’s exactly what Sebastian had wanted, but the way your eyes rolled shut just made him want to fuck you harder, water splashing in your face be damned. 

He leaned in close and nipped at your swollen lips, still rolling his hips maddeningly slow. “I want to fuck you so hard,” he managed, voice shaking. “I want to hear you scream my name. I want to see you fall over the edge so hard that you pass out in my arms.” He snapped his hips, just enough to make you cry out. “I’ll fuck you just like that. I’ll make the Prefects come running from how loud you are. I hope you don’t have plans this weekend, because you’re mine until the bell tolls on Monday.”

You whimpered and shivered under Sebastian, sucking in sharp breaths with every slow thrust, and when you rode your hips back into the brunet, he couldn’t help but let his head hang between his shoulders, his dark eyes sliding shut. The way you were sucking him in deeper was mind-blowing, the water flowing in waves around the two of you, until a burning, tightening sensation took root in your gut and made you grit your teeth together in anticipation. 

“S-Sebastian, fuck,” he thrust harder in response, grinding his hips into you and causing your back to arch with a gasping cry. “Sebastian, I’m– I’m going to–”

“Do it,” he gasped, leaning in to kiss you quickly and messily. “Let me see how you come for me.” 

Your nails dug into his shoulder before you pulled one hand away to begin frantically rubbing circles over your swollen clit. You rocked your hips back into his and worked yourself closer to your finish with a low moan, keeping your movements in time with his thrusts. The way you licked your lips and the way you watched Sebastian with a dark, fucked-out gaze made him whimper. You were so intense– your lips parting on gasping moans of Sebastian’s name– and it took a surprising amount of self-control for him to not just fucking blow it right then. Instead, he bent you back just a little further, just enough to see that needy expression fall back over your face as he fucked you just that little bit harder. 

Your moans grew higher, louder, breathier, until you were crying out and shaking in Sebastian’s arms. “S-Seb– fuck– I’m coming, I’m coming–” 

Your spine rounded and your eyes squeezed shut as you clamped down tight on Sebastian’s cock, a guttural whine ripping from your heaving chest as your climax washed over you. The dexterous movements from your fingers took you higher than you thought possible, and the way you barely managed to choke out Sebastian’s name was enough to send the Slytherin over the edge. 

He pressed himself against you and buried his cock deep, fucking you through your finish with short, fast thrusts while he moaned your name against your throat, his hands moving to grip your sides tight with trembling fingers. “Fuck, darling, fuck–”

Blearily, you moved your arm and wrapped it around Sebastian’s neck as he came, who was shaking and babbling far too loud for it to be muffled against your slick skin. You buried your face into his tangled hair, jolting slightly from every miniscule movement of his twitching member inside of you. When the bulk of his post-coital high had subsided, he began wetly mouthing up your neck and along your jaw before sweetly peppering kisses over your cheek. The demonstration brought a breathless grin to your face, and your hands found their way to the hair at the back of his neck before you wound your fingers through the strands. 

“Merlin’s bloody balls,” Sebastian gritted out, sliding his arms out from under your knees to hold them fast to his waist. You followed his lead easily and wrapped your legs around his hips, sitting up to kiss him contentedly as your palms skimmed along his freckled back. He smiled against your lips and murmured, “We should probably get out. I can feel how pruney your fingers are.” 

“Mm,” you hummed softly, pulling back from the kiss to hold one of your hands up to see how wrinkled your skin had become in the throes of passion. “You’re not wrong. But it would be counterproductive to not wash off all the sweat, wouldn’t it?” 

Sebastian gave you a nonplussed blink before smiling brightly at you in agreement. Almost reluctantly, he slid free from your welcoming heat and deposited you on the shallow stone ledge, then hoisted himself out of the bath to pad over to his toiletry bag. After grabbing all the necessities and jumping back into the steaming water, the two of you took your time cleansing one another, lingering touches and thoughtful kisses being exchanged throughout the process. Eventually Sebatian found himself sitting with his back to the rim of the tub, your smaller figure situated comfortably between his legs as he scooped water into his hands and let it run over your shoulders. If your slouched posture was anything to go by, you were incredibly relaxed, and Sebastian realized dimly that he was too. To be with you in this way was everything he could ever want and more, and he didn’t want it to end. Not by a longshot. 

“Let me come with you after graduation,” he said suddenly, his voice a mere whisper from behind you. 

Your eyes fluttered open as you processed his request, the bathroom utterly silent except for the distant dripping of water from the faucet, and before long you were turning around to face him with your hands braced on his legs. “What?” 

“Let me come with you,” he said again, conviction burning in his dark eyes. “To Poland. I want to do whatever I can to help you. Please don’t leave me behind.” 

All you could do was blink for a moment before opening and closing your mouth in surprise. Sebastian’s unwavering gaze only prolonged the formation of words, until eventually you furrowed your brow and uncertainty took root. It wasn’t that you didn’t want him with you– far from it, in fact. The events that had transpired just minutes earlier had only proven that your close relationship was something to treasure for as long as possible, and you were more than ready to do exactly that. You just didn’t want him to throw his own ambitions to the side simply because you planned to travel. “What about what you want to do? Don’t you have your own plans? I thought Professor Weasley talked to you about–” 

“I never made a decision,” he stated firmly and with a shake of his head. “The Professor had her own ideas about what I would excel at, but I never agreed or wanted to pursue any of her suggestions. I honestly felt like I was in limbo until now. My point is, what I want is to stay with you. I want to help you the same way you helped me with Anne, and I really, really don’t want to end up sitting alone in some office in London waiting for your owls to reach me. There’s always something missing when you’re not with me.”

To say you were an emotional mess would be a monumental understatement. Sebastian’s words struck something deep within you, something sentimental and desperate to come to the surface. He evidently saw your tears before you felt them, because he was instantly sitting forward to cup your cheeks in his wet hands before wiping them away with his thumbs. The concern on his face was apparent, but you were already smiling reassuringly at him before he could verbally ask if you were alright. “You really know how to confess to a girl, huh?” 

He let loose an airy, relieved laugh that drifted over your nose and chilled your damp cheeks, and you wrapped your fingers around his wrists as he smiled anxiously at you. “I had a long time to practice. Is that a yes, then?” 

“Yes, you can come with me. I would love it if you did,” you said, and the giddy excitement that radiated from the man was the most palpable thing in the room at that moment. “Two heads might be better than one, after all.”

Sebastian was on you in an instant. He coiled around you like a baby mooncalf and smiled so brightly that it easily rivaled the intensity of the sun. Water splashed everywhere as he spun you effortlessly within the bath, your capricious laughter reverberating off the walls of the spacious room as elation flooded your system. Being encased in his warm embrace was all the confirmation you needed that you had made the right choice. In turn, knowing that his future was all the clearer brought a sense of peace and belonging to Sebastian that he would hold on to for as long as he was able. 

It just so happened that presently, he was holding on to you. 

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