My "Like Moths to a Flame (Or, the Redemption Arc of Sebastian Sallow) Series" is officially COMPLETE 🎉
🕰️ 30th March 2023 -> 13th January 2026 (34 months(!); I DID THE MATHS)...
📝 Just under 400,000 words...
📖 4 long fics, 2 one-shot collections, 1 Anne/Ominis spinoff fic, 1 short story, 5 standalone one-shots...
👋 And 1 creator (me, hi!) who wrote (nearly) every day, learned how to draw (both traditional and digital art), and met so many lovely people while working on this series. And now it's finally, completely, YOURS to enjoy in its entirety. WILD, MAN.
Thank you to everyone - old, new, and even future(!) readers - who joined me (and Sebastian and Damien, of course) on this crazy unforgettable journey. It's meant (and continues to mean) the world to me. <3
"It's the stories that remain."
shout out to my hilarious and talented friend @theladyofshalott1989 for writing this epic poem to go with my silly Seabasstian doodle 🐟💀
"I'm a Dark Magic boyo
With a Dark Magic book,
So I spread the Unforgivables
Around the school like a crook."
(Or, Sebastian Sallow is The Pout-Pout Fish.)
[ read it on AO3 ] 🐟
Deep in the dungeons
Where the Slytherins lie
Lives a Dark Magic boy
Who (probably) needs a good cry.
"I'm a Dark Magic boyo
With a Dark Magic book,
So I spread the Unforgivables
Around the school like a crook."
"Crucio, Imperio, AVADA KEDAVRA!"
Along comes a new kid
With Ancient Magic divine
And a mission of their own
That their pal thinks is "just fine."
"Hey Dark Magic boyo,
With your Dark Magic book
Would you help me with my quest?
Here, take a look!"
Says the boy to his friend,
"Nice thought, new kid.
I hear what you're saying,
I'll do it; you're definitely not mid."
"I'm a Dark Magic boyo
With a Dark Magic book,
So I spread the Unforgivables
Around the school like a crook."
"Crucio, Imperio, AVADA KEDAVRA!"
Along comes the boy's uncle
He stomps through the field
His angry face on full display, shouting,
"ANNE CANNOT BE HEALED!"
"Hey Dark Magic boyo
With your Dark Magic book,
I'm gonna report you to the Ministry
Don't act so shook."
Says the boy to his uncle,
"You jerk! I DON'T agree!
I'm gonna kill you,
It's entirely up to me."
"I'm a Dark Magic boyo
With a Dark Magic book,
So I spread the Unforgivables
Around the school like a crook."
"Crucio, Imperio, AVADA KEDAVRA!"
(Uncle's dead.)
Along comes the boy's twin sister, Anne,
His kindred spirit, still quite sick.
She is sad, she is mad,
She is one powerful chick.
Says the boy to his sister,
"Anne, I can cure you!
Please let me try."
"YOU'VE MADE YOUR CHOICE!"
She yells back. (Bye-bye, book.)
Boy screams, "NO, ANNE!!! WHY???"
"I'm a Dark Magic boyo
With no more Dark Magic book,
But I'll still spread the Unforgivables
Around the school like a crook."
"Crucio, Imperio, AVADA KEDAVRA!"
Along comes the Ministry
With their dementors most foul,
Stealing souls and breaking hearts
They'll really make you howl.
"Hey, Dark Magic boyo
Let us tell it to you straight.
Your Dark Magic meddling
Is an unattractive trait."
Says the boy to his captors,
"Ministry, get WRECKED!
With a power like mine
I'm more than just inept."
"I'm a Dark Magic boyo
With no more Dark Magic book,
But I'll still spread the Unforgivables
Around the WIZARDING WORLD like a crook."
"Crucio, Imperio, AVADA KEDAVRA!"
Now along comes his old friend,
The Ancient Magic kid.
The Ministry has never seen before
Such amazing skills (Merlin forbid)!"
New kid approaches Dark Magic boyo
But instead of saying hey...
They use Ancient Magic Throw
On the Ministry and its dementors
And then they bolt away.
Dark Magic boyo is most astounded;
Dark Magic boyo is just aghast!
He is stone-faced like a statue
Then he blinks, and speaks at last:
"New kid!" yells Sebastian Sallow,
"I should have known it all along.
I thought I needed Dark Magic,
But it turns out I was wrong."
"I'm an Ancient Magic lover
With an Ancient Magic Kid,
We can cure Anne together
Because look what YOU did!"
"So I'll not call you ignorant
Because that would be dumb.
Join me, my friend,
And we'll be more than just ho-hum."
Okay, I have something in mind and feel free to alter, remove, add - etc to make yourself feel happy with it :)
plot: I was thinking male MC (reader, house neutral although not slytherin due to the following) sneaking into the slytherin common room with an invisibility potion (thank Garreth) while slytherin house is out partying, to steal something of sebastians (being rivals). what he didn’t realise however was that sebastian had gotten detention and couldn’t go to the party, making him and ominis enter the common room while he was still inside - and because garreth isn’t the BEST at potions, the time duration of that potion wasn’t as long as they’d hoped..
he gets caught by sebastian and ominis and the two interrogates him and it ultimately ends up in a threesome (if you’re fine with that, otherwise ominis can leave lol) with elements of overstim and sub reader if that’s your thing?
thank you! have a great day pls, everybody deserves a great day :)
Your wish is my command, Anon! 💚
"Trouble on My Left, Trouble on My Right"
Sebastian Sallow/Male Reader & Ominis Gaunt/Male Reader
Synopsis: You came for what was his. Instead, you found yourself between what’s theirs. (Or: in and out, leave no trace? Perhaps, but not exactly in the way you had planned.)
Rating: Explicit‼️
Tags: POV Second Person, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Top Sebastian Sallow, Top Ominis Gaunt, Sassy Ominis Gaunt, Jealous Sebastian Sallow, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Sexual Overstimulation, Banter, Possessive Behavior, Submission, Voyeurism, Male Reader-Insert
Word Count: 2,300
[ AO3 Link ]
Fun Fact (minor spoiler): The concept of a teddy bear wasn't actually invented until 1902, hence my not referring to Sebastian's bear with that verbiage. (Yes, I did Google it. The things I do for explicit one-shots! Haha.) Also, who knew that the teddy bear was named after American President Theodore ("Teddy") Roosevelt? I certainly didn't!
You hadn't seen this coming. Two Slytherins, completely at your mercy. Although... maybe it was the other way around.
One lounged across the bed, generous cock out, fingers drumming impatiently upon the dark green duvet. The other pressed against the wall, your mouth attending ferociously to his cock.
Yes, this was definitely unexpected.
You'd started out the evening with something quite different in mind. A simple heist, of sorts.
Steal the one possession Sebastian Sallow, your ever-infuriating, but also decidedly attractive, deliciously addictive, annoyingly perfect—Merlin did you hate admitting it, even if only in your head—rival, would actually miss. The one possession that, if taken, might truly rattle him.
His stuffed bear.
Or so Anne claimed. Anne, who despite everything, hadn't lost her taste for mischief. Anne, who might've let that secret slip a little too easily, perhaps because of a tiny, ill-timed crush. Shame you didn't find the womanly form, for want of a better word, all that spellbinding. Not that it mattered tonight.
At least you'd thought.
"Why does he get all the attention?" Sebastian whinged, his chocolate brown eyes glinting in the warm flicker of the gas lamp resting on the nightstand to his right. Even Sebastian's whining held a certain sort of allure—damn him! Damn him to Azkaban and back! Not literally, obviously.
Ominis released a long-suffering sigh. The kind of sigh that could fill the entire castle and still not hold all his exasperation. Sebastian's mid-pleasure interruption was probably more than just a habit. It was probably more like a ritual. Presumably, of course, although it made a certain sort of sense.
"Because some of us know how to wait our turn," you muttered, a difficult feat since your mouth was still stuffed full of Ominis's cock. Whether anyone actually understood you was debatable.
Apparently someone did, because Sebastian shot back, "Wait my turn? Darling, I don't wait for anyone. I take what I want."
Darling, hm?
You very much wanted to ignore him, but when it came to Sebastian, that was difficult, nigh on impossible even. Ominis would have to wait, at least for a moment or two. With a soft pop, you pulled away from him. He sighed again, clearly unamused, as you settled back on your haunches.
"I don't see you making a move, Seb," you drawled. "What happened to that relentless determination, that cockiness?" You waggled your eyebrows.
Sebastian was moving now, stalking forward, dropping low to seize your shoulders, hard enough to bruise. As he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, he mouthed, "Don't start," then caught your right earlobe between his teeth in a quick, sharp nip. You gasped, knees buckling beneath you. Good thing he was holding you up, not so much supporting you as imprisoning you, shackling you in place.
Oh how the tables had turned.
No more than half an hour ago, you'd slipped into this very room unnoticed, practically radiating smug satisfaction. Garreth's potion had worked like a charm, quite literally, although it wasn't an invisibility charm, but a subtler kind of vanishing act. An "ignore me if you see me" effect, as he'd put it. He called it his Wallflower Potion.
You had to hand it to Garreth. No one could say he wasn't clever. Just not always reliably so, which had soon become painfully clear. ('The potion will last a full hour,'—your arse.)
Still, to be fair, not everything could be blamed on his half-baked potion.
In hindsight, you probably should've done your due diligence. Sebastian was hardly a model student, after all. He was too much of a rakish cad for that. And while the rest of Slytherin House was off at the Three Broomsticks, celebrating the completion of their N.E.W.T.s, downing butterbeers and dancing like there was no tomorrow, Sebastian had been serving detention, with Ominis, of all people.
Or so you'd overheard as they'd wandered through the door. Sebastian, of course, was the one muttering about it, clearly quite put out, the extrovert that he was.
You briefly considered how Ominis and Sebastian had both ended up in detention, together, but you didn't have much time to mull it over, for you were mere seconds away from being caught bear-handed by the devil himself, flanked by his angelic—ignoring his heritage, that is—blind shadow.
Surprise!
So, how had you ended up here? Here, now, with Sebastian shoving you against his bed, ass up, conjuring only the smallest daub of lubrication, too quick to entirely cloak your entrance but just enough that it wouldn't be horribly painful when he—"Ah!"—shoved his cock inside you. It didn't take long before you'd adjusted to the firm pressure of him and were shouting out, "Merlin, yes!", making it all too clear that you wanted this. That you had wanted this since you ever met him. Had he wanted it too?
Huh. And here you thought he only saw you as an irritating schoolmate to best in various subjects: Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, dueling, spider obliteration, just to name a few.
Perhaps you were wrong. Perhaps you had been wrong all along.
Ominis hissed a choice curse or two from behind the two of you, apparently none too pleased that Sebastian had pulled you away for such an, allegedly, time-consuming act. Sebastian was too busy thrusting to pay him any mind, grunting with each earth-shattering movement, the bed creaking in reply.
Speaking of busyness, you were too busy trying to breathe, bracing yourself as his cock traveled deep, deep, deeper inside you, so deep it was punishing; Sebastian was hammering away at you like his very life depended on it. It was a bit ridiculous to be totally honest, but you didn't have any complaints. Why would you? Sebastian's determined resolve was far too stimulating to allow any other thought, not even of the unwelcome variety. Far too stimulating and then some.
Sebastian's cock made its last triumphant hurrah. He moaned, a helpless sound, so unlike him that it made your heart leap into your throat, but then warmth flooded your insides, pooled inside you, and you lost all sense of time and place…
Until Sebastian released himself and collapsed on his side, pulling you along with him.
For the briefest moment, Sebastian had been part of you, as one with you as anyone could possibly be—physically, that is—and then, faster than a reluctantly cast Crucio, it had ended, his cum dripping out of you and soaking into the bedsheets.
But it wasn't over. No, not yet. Ominis made certain of that.
He conjured two hand towels and tossed them. Both towels somehow landed squarely on your bare stomachs, slick with sweat, still heaving as you both tried to recover your breath.
"Clean yourselves up," he said.
Sebastian didn't budge, but he did manage to shoot back, "Not even a 'please'?"
"I'm saving my 'pleases' for people who actually listen. Like him," he added, nodding toward you as you sat up, already doing as Ominis commanded.
In all honesty, it hadn't quite been a conscious choice. When it came to anything of a sexual nature, obedience seemed etched into your very bones. Odd, sure, what with everything you'd managed to achieve at Hogwarts in the short time you'd attended, but true.
Deed done, you rose, a bit unsteadily, to your feet. Ominis took your hands, gave them a firm squeeze, and led you to his side of the room, which was far less chaotic, his bed still immaculate, not a wrinkle in sight. That wouldn't last long though. He pushed you onto it, clambered atop you, and brought his mouth to yours, all but devouring you.
You could hear Sebastian puttering around in the corner, then… silence. You were too lost in Ominis to glance Sebastian's way, but some part of you hoped he was watching.
There was a fleeting moment where it all felt too good, too exhilarating, too much, to be real, like your body had moved faster than your sense of disbelief. You hadn't even wanted to kiss Ominis until he'd been the one to confront you first about sneaking into their room, until he'd been the one to demand answers with that quiet, dangerous focus of his.
"Explain yourself," he'd said, his voice taut.
You'd flinched, though, rather inconveniently, your trousers had gone tight at the exact same moment. "I—well, erm—" you'd stammered, your grip stiffening around the stuffed bear you were hiding behind your back.
"You're stammering. And you're hard. Interesting combination."
By Jove! How in Merlin's name did he know? you'd thought, your mind racing through all the potential possibilities. Was Ominis's wand really as sentient as Sebastian had explained in your fifth year?
Sebastian raised an eyebrow, his eyes locking on you, traveling down to the offending body part. He smirked. Typical. "Subtle, very subtle," he teased.
In hindsight, it made perfect sense that their interrogation—if it could even be called that—had such an effect on you. Confrontation was a rare occurrence for you these days. Most people steered clear, well aware that you were far more powerful than the average wizard.
But then again, most people weren't Sebastian Sallow or Ominis Gaunt. Clearly.
You dropped Sebastian's bear quietly behind you, praying they hadn't noticed, then stepped forward, toward Sebastian, a question in your eyes. Sebastian tilted his head, murmured, "Alright then," and just like that, the whole encounter had begun.
Now, back in the present, Ominis freed your lips from captivity, and your mouth hurried to his cock. Likewise, his large but slender hands made their steady way to you, settling on the shaft of yours. The two of you attended to each other—Ominis was, unsurprisingly, more generous than Sebastian—moving in tandem, his touch insistent, but also somehow gentler. You climaxed in unison: Ominis's pleasure quiet and controlled, yours loud and guttural. Sebastian had apparently joined in as well, for mere moments later, you heard him moan, low, nearly a growl, sounding like the bear of a young man that he was.
The bear!
You tensed at the thought of it. You still wanted to claim Sebastian's most beloved possession—needed to, really, maybe even more so now than before, especially after Sebastian—and Ominis!—had claimed you in their own way. That had been the whole point of this grand escapade, hadn't it?
"Now that that's done," Sebastian said, yanking you back to your senses. "Why were you in our room again?"
You met his gaze, a wicked glint in your eyes. "Who says I wasn't here to do exactly what we just accomplished?"
Sebastian barked out a laugh. He turned to Ominis, who was sitting to your left beside you, the corner of his mouth twitching.
"Well, whatever the reason," Sebastian said, waving his hand casually in the air, "you've certainly earned the right to return, should you feel inclined."
"Noted."
"But next time," Ominis piped in, "a little notice wouldn't hurt. Perhaps an owl, for formality's sake."
You leaned back, letting out a slow breath. "I'll consider it." You rose to your feet and glanced around for your scattered clothing.
As Sebastian and Ominis did the same, you smiled upon observing that your off-white shirt had—miracle of miracles!—ended up draped over Sebastian's bear. You slipped it on last, the fabric cool against your skin, and tucked the bear carefully behind your back. You backed toward the door, ever so cautious, hoping that your two Slytherins were too distracted to find your movement suspicious.
But just as your hand closed around the doorknob, Sebastian spoke. "You're hiding something."
You froze.
Ominis didn't even pause the careful fastening of the last button on his shirt. "It's Sebastian's bear, isn't it?"
Damn! How?
You offered your best attempt at wide-eyed innocence. "What bear?"
Sebastian's eyes narrowed. "My bear, hm?" Well, at least he didn't seem too angry.
You shrugged, backing up another step. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Funny," Ominis said, stepping past you to open the door himself. As he did, his hand brushed against the concealed lump beneath your shirt. "Lying now, hm? After everything we did for you?"
You sighed dramatically and tugged at your shirt, revealing just enough of the bear's ear to prove your guilt... to Sebastian at least, maybe even to Ominis, for all you knew. You were severely doubting now that he was actually blind. Perhaps he had been pulling a long con the past three years. You wouldn't put it past him.
"Fine," you said through a pout. "You caught me out. You win." But you didn't make a move to return the bear.
Sebastian laughed, then, to your complete and utter shock, waved you off.
"Keep my bear warm, then," he said.
You blinked. "I intend to." You took a hesitant backwards step over the threshold, still not quite certain if he was being serious.
You took another, and another, until you realized Sebastian had been serious. He wasn't stopping you. You still picked up your pace. Just in case.
Ominis's voice trailed after you. "Send that owl next time, won't you?"
You paused, glanced back at the two of them, hair tousled, cheeks flushed, entirely too pleased with themselves—and with you.
"Don't worry," you said with a grin. "Next time, you'll know when I'm coming."
Were you being entirely truthful? Perhaps, but also, perhaps not. That was up to you to decide.
And with that, you disappeared down the corridor, stolen bear tucked under your arm, a dozen more dangerous ideas already forming in that brilliant mind of yours.
hello stranger! :]👋 a sebastian x male reader please?
i’ve always imagined that sebastian would want to make up for casting crucio upon his friend in the scriptorium - and given his curiosity and knowledge learnt through the restricted section, i imagine he would know a spell the complete opposite of the previous, something causing a wave of extreme pleasure coursing through its target. maybe he would invite said friend into the undercroft some evening and he gets to writhe in pleasure on the floor instead of agony this time (bonus points if ominis walks in-) 🫣 thank you and please continue the pride works your doing, they’re great! :]
Hi anon! Thank you for your patience, and for the fun request. Enjoy!
Don't Stop Me Now // Sebastian Sallow x You (Male Reader)
Synopsis: You remember that time Sebastian cast Crucio on you? Of course you do. Well, guess what? He's feeling very sorry about it. So now he's making it up to you the only way he knows how: with a little experimental magic.
Apology accepted? You decide.
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 1,212
[ AO3 Link ]
//
Sebastian Sallow had his wand leveled at you for the second time in less than forty-eight hours.
There was something different in his eyes this go-round though. Not hesitance, not the faintest tinge of fear, certainly not rage.
It was more like… excitement. Yes, that was it.
But wait. Excitement? You supposed that should have made you wary, so why didn't it? Why did it instead make your pulse race faster through your veins? Shouldn't you be cowering, bracing for a spell to hit?
And yet, you were still standing there, blinking at Sebastian. Rather stupidly, mind you. Not that you cared. Not that he seemed bothered. In fact, the corner of his mouth was quirked into the most delicious smirk. You bit your bottom lip to stop yourself from saying something entirely ridiculous, like, Come here often, handsome?
Sebastian tilted his head, very slightly. Oh yes, he was pleased. Very much so.
Sebastian had said there was something he wanted to try. And because you had a bit of a weakness for him—fine, a massive, humiliating weakness for him—and maybe the tiniest streak of idiocy, though you'd deny it to your grave (unless it was Sebastian putting you there)—you had said yes.
In hindsight, you probably should've surmised that 'something he wanted to try' meant 'experimenting on you.' It tracked, in a horrible sort of way. A horrible but invigorating sort of way? Yes, yes, that. Absolutely.
"I promise it'll be worth it," he said, just before raising his wand.
And then Sebastian spoke the words.
"Magnum Voluptatem." He uttered the spell as calmly as anything. Like he was stating the weather. Or, perhaps, announcing what was for dinner.
You wished, not for the first time, that your Latin extended beyond Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum, which you'd dutifully mumbled in Catholic school long before you found out you were—miracle of miracles!—a wizard. You wondered, briefly, what the Virgin Mary would make of that. Probably cross herself and run away screaming.
But you didn't have time to mourn your unholiness, nor your linguistic failings. Not when heat blossomed beneath your skin like spilled ink: slow at first, then spreading everywhere, all at once. Not when your breath caught and your spine arched entirely without permission, like some buried part of you had been waiting for this—had remembered this—long before your conscious mind could catch up.
"Oh," you breathed, uselessly.
Sebastian smiled, his chocolate brown eyes twinkling in the low light of the Undercroft.
Damn him! Damn that beautiful boy.
"Worth it yet?" he said, arching a brow.
You might've answered if you weren't currently melting, totally boneless, into the floor. Metaphorically, of course. If his spell had actually removed all the bones from your body, it would've been significantly less pleasurable, or so you assumed. And really, why would he do such a daft thing?
No, this was something else entirely.
Your nerves were singing. Every inch of your skin felt tuned like the strings of a violin—a Stradivarius, the most expensive of the lot—which he was manipulating with a finely sculpted bow. Breathing was suddenly a task you had to remember to do, and even that was touch-and-go.
He lowered into a crouch beside you, entirely too smug.
"You're taking it well," he said, as if you weren't halfway to the stars already; Amit would be so proud.
"Define 'well.'"
He grinned. Again. Your heart leapt into your throat. "You look like you've never been happier," he said.
But he wasn't finished. Not yet. Because then, he reached for your hand.
And God help you, you let him take it.
Worse, you sighed. One of those soft, traitorous sighs that belonged in a love letter or a scandalous novel, not in the middle of a spell-induced sensory overload.
And then—then(!)—he bent his head and pressed a kiss to the back of your hand.
A kiss. So delicate it was almost as if a feather had fallen from the ceiling and landed on your skin.
You gasped. It was so involuntary, so unexpected, that your cheeks grew hot.
He glanced up through his lashes. Your eyes met.
"Just making sure you're still with me," he murmured, as if you weren't barely tethered to the room, your sense of self floating somewhere just above your two heads, your still entwined hands.
Wait a moment. Had you died? Were you a ghost? Was this some sort of exquisitely strange limbo? Maybe Sebastian's Crucio in the scriptorium had killed you, and this was your afterlife: pleasure-laced purgatory, courtesy of his very selective remorse.
"Just… barely," you managed to reply, your fingers trembling beneath his.
He smiled, slow like molasses. Satisfied, like he liked you best in ruin —pleasurable, yes, but ruin nonetheless.
And you, still thrumming, still clutching Sebastian's hand like it might anchor you to reality, were in no state to stop him if he pressed further.
Which, judging by the look in his eyes, he was absolutely about to do.
Until—
Creeeak.
Ominis made his entrance with all the subtlety of a thunderclap, opening the positively ancient gate that led into the Undercroft like it had personally offended him.
Sebastian shot to his feet faster than if he'd been caught committing a crime, which, erm, depending on how one interpreted consent under experimental magic, he may have been very close to doing. Not that you would've stopped him. You'd have made sure to say, Please, do go on. Loudly. Clear as fucking day.
But now Ominis was here, and he was tapping his foot impatiently on the stone floor.
"Ah, here you two are," he said. "And up to no good, most likely."
"We were just… erm, studying," Sebastian said, hastily wiping a bead of sweat from his freckled forehead.
"Mhm. Right. Care to explain what you were actually doing?"
Deep, unrelenting pleasure still coursed through your body—and with it, your mind—like a dense fog, leaving you far too occupied to conjure up even a half-decent excuse. How long did this spell last, exactly? Because honestly, you were starting to get a bit dizzy. Maybe you should lie down.
So you did. Yes. Definitely better. Much, much better.
Sebastian was talking, words tumbling from his plump, pink lips faster than you could comprehend them.
Ominis was shouting. A blaring sound, really. Rather too insistent for comfort's sake.
And somewhere in the middle of it all, you were wondering… what in God's name was happening?
Then, faster than you could cast Revelio (which was absurdly fast at this point), Ominis was sprawled on the floor beside you, looking far too relaxed for someone who'd just barged in with a scowl.
Wait. Had Sebastian cast the spell on him too?
Ominis's back arched; a low moan slipped past his lips.
Oh.
Oh.
Sebastian dropped down beside you again, this time on his broad, muscular back. He rolled onto his side, propping his gorgeous head in his large hand, a wavy lock of hair just barely grazing his thick brow, his gaze locking with yours.
In a sly, conspiratorial whisper, he said, "Looks like the fun's just getting started."
And, at least in this very, very particular instance, Sebastian wasn't wrong.
"Damien mounted the hippogriff with ease, settling himself on her broad back before extending his hand toward Sebastian. Sebastian took it, noting Damien's firm grasp and how their hands seemed to fit perfectly together like two pieces of a puzzle, now solved, then comfortably positioned himself from behind, his legs straddling Damien. Sebastian wrapped his arms around Damien's torso, relishing the sudden thrill that came with the knowledge that they were pressed against each other. Not even a lick of space between them. Oh. A shiver passed down his spine, settling in a rather uncomfortable place. Sebastian took a few steadying breaths, as discreetly as he possibly could."
"Damien was too preoccupied with commanding Highwing forward to notice. At least Sebastian hoped. Highwing galloped ahead, her powerful wings beating as they soared into the air, heading north. The rush of the wind whipped past them, so Sebastian leaned in closer, savoring the thrill of the ride and the welcome heat radiating from Damien's body.
The wind was deafening, making conversation impossible, but Sebastian didn't mind. Riding Damien... erm, wait, no... a hippogriff was a rare luxury, and he intended to soak in every moment. Even the freezing cold couldn't ruin the experience. Sebastian took in their surroundings as they soared above the mountains, then the charming hamlet of Upper Hogsfield."
Excerpt from Ch. 28 "Mine" from "Like Moths to a Flame"
✨Screenshot credit: the fabulous @lorynsdrawings (THANK YOU SO MUCH AHHH)
Poppy Sweeting had a minor problem. A minor problem that she couldn't quite shake, especially not now, when every knight of the kingdom, even the ones still in training, had congregated inside the castle—a rare occurrence, all due to the gruesome death of one of their own, murdered by a member of his own regiment.
A bit odd that, and, at least Poppy supposed, quite unfortunate for the aforementioned dead knight, but Poppy didn't really follow politics. She wasn't even certain who had died.
She did thank the unexpected murder for her current situation though, which was hiding behind a pillar to watch her "minor problem" conversing with her good friend, Jaimsen.
Poppy was, frankly, surprised the two knights were in such good spirits. The knight who died must not have been a friend of theirs. Or perhaps he wasn't very well-liked in general.
Ah well.
"Where do you think he went?" Tori whispered to Jaimsen.
Jaimsen crossed his arms over his chest—a difficult feat to be sure in all that armor, but he managed. "Where do you think?" he said through a laugh.
Poppy wasn't quite sure who they were talking about, until…
"Sebastian's always so predictable," Tori said, rolling her eyes.
"True," Jaimsen replied, "although I certainly didn't predict he'd be on the run for murder, even though it makes loads of sense now that it's happened."
As Tori quietly murmured her assent, Poppy clapped a hand to her mouth, stifling a gasp.
Prince Damien's best friend, a murderer?
Because everyone knew that Prince Damien Ambrose-Evans and Sebastian Sallow were inseparable.
Before Sebastian had begun his training, he and his twin sister, Anne, had lived within the castle walls, their parents serving the royal household until their untimely (natural) deaths. In those years, Sebastian and Anne had been a constant in the prince's life. Where one of them was found, the others were never far behind. And when Anne had eventually been sent to France to join the royal court there, it had simply become the two of them instead. Damien and Sebastian. Sebastian and Damien. Always.
Which meant that this—whatever this was—would not go unnoticed.
Prince Damien would not abandon his best friend.
… Would he?
"What are you doing here, milady?" a voice cut in from just behind Poppy's head.
She straightened at once, every instinct snapping to attention, and swiveled around to address the man behind her.
"Oh, Sir Solomon," she said, schooling her expression into something mild and pleasant. "I was… merely daydreaming. As gentle ladies are so often wont to do."
It wasn't a complete fabrication. She had been thinking about Tori mere moments ago. That likely counted as daydreaming. And Poppy was, by birth at least, a gentlelady, though she had every intention of shedding that particular skin someday. Hopefully soon.
Solomon narrowed his eyes, clearly unconvinced. Poppy had a bit of a reputation after all. His gaze lingered a fraction too long.
"Daydreaming," he repeated. "In the east corridor. At this hour."
Poppy smiled sweetly. "I find the light rather… nice here. Good for thinking."
He glanced toward the tall windows, where the light was, in all honesty, objectively terrible, then back at her. Poppy held her breath.
"Of course," he said. "And what, pray tell, were you daydreaming about?"
Poppy considered several answers. She settled on one of the decidedly safer ones.
"France," she said, lightly. "I hear from Anne that the court there is quite lively." Never mind that she hadn't spoken to Anne in years, nor had they ever corresponded via letter.
At the name Anne, Solomon's face darkened.
Oh. Perhaps Poppy shouldn't have mentioned Solomon's niece. That seemed to hit a nerve for some inexplicable reason.
A handful of seconds passed before Solomon responded. "So I've been informed," he said.
Poppy's shoulders relaxed. Good, he wasn't going to comment further. That seemed rather final. Could she maneuver the conversation to her discreet exit somehow? Or, better yet, persuade Solomon to move along so she could study the lovely Tori Lewis for a few minutes more?
As it turned out, Poppy didn't need to do anything at all.
A trumpet sounded, its cacophonous call ricocheting off the stone walls.
The castle went eerily still.
"A message from the king!" the trumpeter announced.
He paused to open the scroll in his free hand. "It reads: By order of His Majesty, King Ambrose-Evans, it is hereby decreed that Sebastian Sallow, knight-in-training of the royal guard, is to be found and apprehended immediately. Once in custody, he will be sentenced… to death."
A ripple moved through the gathered knights. Tori and Jaimsen, earlier so bright and jovial, suddenly went rigid. They locked eyes, deep frowns plastered on their faces. Poppy had never seen Tori so pale, nor her eyes so haunted.
Beside her, Solomon's face twisted. His own nephew, a murderer. Poppy couldn't imagine what was going through his head right now. She'd never particularly liked the man, but this news was heavy, and she felt some sympathy for him, albeit small.
The announcer wasn't finished. He continued:
"Sebastian Sallow is charged with the unlawful killing of the knight and nobleman by birth, Leander Prewett, during a sanctioned training exercise. Until such time as the murderer is apprehended, all gates are to remain sealed. No persons are to enter or leave the castle without express royal permission."
Poppy's stomach dropped.
"Furthermore," he said, "any individual found aiding Sebastian Sallow in evading arrest will be considered complicit and punished accordingly."
The silence that followed was worse than the trumpet's earlier call. And then, everyone started talking at once, Tori and Jaimsen included.
Poppy didn't move. She barely noticed Solomon stalking away, likely to brood over this unfortunate turn of events.
And unfortunate was, perhaps, an understatement.
Because if Tori and Jaimsen were correct in what she overheard earlier—that Sebastian had gone to the prince—what would Prince Damien do?
Especially now, with the entire kingdom watching.
She didn't envy him. Not one bit.
//
[ Read chapter three ➡️ ]
MCs mentioned: @espressoristretto-patronum's Tori, and @leaping-toadstool-caps's Jaimsen.
A quick sketch and first chapter of a new series based on the hlmcu royal au screenshots here.
knight x prince (sebastian x damien) // forbidden love
Fic rating: Teen (for language)
Chapter word count: 1014
//
Damien spent most nights pacing the length of the castle parapet, his thoughts circling around Sebastian. It had been one week, two days, and six hours since they'd last seen each other, so his steps tonight were quicker, more restless.
Every so often, he squinted toward the dark line of the horizon, searching for movement and praying for it to be Sebastian. Damien missed him. Damien always missed him.
And yet, he also wanted Sebastian safe.
A prince and a knight falling in love was hardly the sort of story royal marriages were built upon. His parents would never approve. And Damien was the heir to the throne. He'd caught himself wondering, more than once, if he could simply hand the crown to his sister, Matty—if she'd take it, if the kingdom would even allow such a thing.
Because if it came down to it, Damien would choose Sebastian over the throne. There was no question.
He was so lost in thought that a sound from below startled him back to awareness.
Damien leaned over the parapet, peering into the darkness.
"Sebastian?" he whispered. He hoped none of the guards were close enough to overhear.
A familiar, low grunt answered him.
Without thinking, Damien swung a leg over the railing, already preparing to climb down.
"Are you alright?" he called as he began his descent. He still couldn't see Sebastian through the thick vines clinging to the castle wall, but he didn't need to. He'd know Sebastian's voice anywhere.
"I'm fine!" Sebastian said, muffled by a clenched jaw, or so Damien assumed. "Don't come down. I'll be there in a moment."
Damien hesitated. He took a breath. Then, after hearing a rustle of movement, and catching a glimpse of Sebastian's unmistakable mess of hair below, he obeyed.
Back on the parapet, Damien smoothed his clothes, scanning for tears or damage. Good. Not a scratch. He couldn't risk the servants noticing. Or his valet. He wasn't technically meant to leave the castle. Ever.
Not that he followed that rule.
To be fair, neither did his sister.
When he straightened back up, Sebastian was there, staggering forward; he fell into Damien's arms.
"Fuck," Sebastian said, his body trembling. "Fuck! I'm… sorry."
Damien's heart lurched as his fingers brushed Sebastian's side and came away wet. He pulled his hand back, staring.
Blood. Loads of it. Thick and sticky.
"You're bleeding," Damien said, keeping one hand steady on Sebastian's back even as he stepped away to inspect the damage.
Sebastian swayed on his feet.
Damien guided him slowly to the stone beneath their feet, settling himself down beside him. Sebastian clutched at his side and let out a low groan.
"Yeah, about that—" he began.
"You can explain later," Damien cut in, scanning Sebastian’s body for more injuries. Luckily, it seemed as if it was just the one. It was deep though. Concerning. Very much so.
"No, D. I have to explain now."
A chill raced down Damien's spine. "Why?"
Sebastian bowed his head. "I can't see you anymore."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"Damien, I can't. You don't understand."
Damien reached for Sebastian's hand; he laced their fingers together. "That's not acceptable," he said. "Your prince won't allow it."
"You don't know what I did."
"Sebastian, love, you're a knight in training, a protector of the realm. What could you have possibly done?"
Sebastian swallowed. "I killed someone. Another knight."
Damien tore his hand away. "What?"
"It was an accident, I swear."
"How?" Damien demanded. "How did it happen?"
Sebastian shook his head. He opened his mouth. Nothing came out.
"Sebastian," Damien said. "Please. I have to know."
"I… fuck!" Sebastian dragged a hand down his face. "It was a training exercise. It just… got out of hand."
"Was anyone else there? Did anyone else see?"
"Everyone." Sebastian sighed. "Everyone was there."
A bead of sweat slid down Damien's forehead. "Then how did you get away?"
"Tori brought me to the medical tent to have my injury looked at. She left me there, with Jaimsen. When he turned his back… I ran."
"Do you think Jaimsen—"
"I'm not sure." Sebastian shook his head again. "God! I don't know. I don't know what to do."
Damien's voice dropped. "Who died?"
"Leander."
Damien exhaled. "Of course."
"Damien—" Sebastian leaned forward, bringing his head to Damien's shoulder and letting it rest there, heavy as an iron weight. "You have no idea how sorry I am. I've fucked up everything. I can't stay. I… have to go. Somewhere they won't find me."
Damien leaned back to grab Sebastian's hands again. He gripped them, holding fast. "No," he said. "No, you don't. I won't allow it. I'll pardon you."
Sebastian lifted his head. Their eyes met. "I… would that even work?"
"I don't know," Damien admitted. "But I have to try."
"I couldn't ask that of you."
"You didn't."
Sebastian frowned. "And if… if it doesn't work?"
Damien didn't hesitate. "Then I'll marry you."
Sebastian gawked at him. "What?"
"I'll marry you." Damien said it plainly, as if the decision had been made long ago, and perhaps it had. "But first: we need to get you cleaned up, hm?"
"Damien, you can't. We can't."
"Why not?"
"I’m—"
"Being rather argumentative at the moment?"
Sebastian let out a startled, incredulous laugh. "You can't possibly think—"
"I do whatever I wish," Damien said. "And what I wish, right now, is to entertain the idea of marrying you."
"Only if the pardoning idea doesn't work, right?"
"No."
"No?"
"I've decided I'm marrying you either way."
Sebastian blinked. "Don't I get a say?"
Damien arched a brow.
"Well. Erm." Sebastian looked down at his lap, then back up. "I suppose I'd say yes."
Damien nodded, schooling his expression into something suitably composed, refusing to let his elation show. There would be time for celebration later.
For now, he needed to tend to Sebastian's wound. Sebastian needed to survive the night, after all.
Because once he did, Damien intended for them to be together for the rest of their lives. Somehow.
It would work.
It had to.
//
[ Read chapter two ➡️ ]
MCs mentioned: @girl-named-matty's Matty, @espressoristretto-patronum's Tori, and @leaping-toadstool-caps's Jaimsen.
Synopsis: On a dark night in October, around a raging campfire, Damien has a spooky story to tell. His chaotic friends can be hard to please, but Damien's tale is pulled from truth. Will he deliver?
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 3,219
Tags: POV Third Person Limited (Damien POV); Halloween; Campfires; Spooky; Sassy Ominis Gaunt; Sebastian Sallow Needs a Hug; Soft Sebastian Sallow; Anne Sallow Is Not Cursed; Eldritch Horror; Fluff and Hurt/Comfort; Story within a Story; Set Post-Hogwarts Legacy
Author's Note: A huge thank you to @ps-cactus for creating the Forbidden Forest Campfire Tales (@forbiddenforest-campfire) event this year. What a cool concept! I had such a blast writing this one-shot. Also tagging the rest of the HLMCU (@girl-named-matty @savingsallow @accio-bagel @leaping-toadstool-caps @espressoristretto-patronum @freddiestheproblemchild @ravenwind-75) for letting me borrow their children.
ALSO! We have a series on AO3 now showcasing our fics in timeline order! All stories can be read as standalones.
[ AO3 Link ]
//
"I have a story," Damien said, mid-bite of gooey marshmallow goodness.
Sebastian's eyes went wide. He nearly dropped his marshmallow monstrosity, charred practically beyond recognition, since only moments ago he'd removed it from the fire totally engulfed in flames. He caught it before it plopped onto the ground, grimacing as he blew air out of his mouth, all the while juggling the offensive thing back and forth between his hands.
"You're supposed to eat the marshmallow, Sebastian," Ellie said, "not blow on it menacingly."
"It was too hot!" he shot back with a steady glare.
"Whatever." Ellie rolled her eyes and took a bite of her own lightly burned marshmallow. Much more Damien's style: the perfect sear.
No one commented on Damien's little pronouncement, although everyone did seem a bit distracted, so he wasn't too surprised. James and Ren whispered amongst themselves, giggling periodically; Finn whistled the Hogwarts school song between bites of chocolate, which he had hoarded all for himself; Tori and Poppy reclined on the ground, arms wrapped around each other, their eyes closed, but not breathing deep, so they were (probably) still awake. Everyone else was intently focused on their marshmallow, making a variety of happy noises, everything from "Ah, bliss!" to "Fuck, who gave marshmallows the right?" In the background, the fire crackled as fires so often do.
Sebastian's voice shattered Damien's quiet study of the serene scene. "Is no one going to say anything to Damien?"
"Say anything about what?" Ominis said, cocking an eyebrow in the general direction of Sebastian's voice.
Damien swallowed the last bite of his marshmallow. "Huh?" He couldn't think of anything more eloquent to say; the sugar rush had hit, and his leg was shaking. Damien didn't even attempt to subdue it with his hand. He let his base instincts take control.
Sebastian sighed as he picked another marshmallow from the pile and skewered it on his stick. "Whatever scary story you have in that pretty little head of yours, it's probably far too tame for this group of scoundrels."
"Hey!" Damien and at least three of their friends said in perfect unison.
"It wasn't an insult!" Sebastian barked back.
Tori, now sitting up and looking very put-out about it, muttered, "Right" in her usual sarcastic manner, at least when it came to addressing Sebastian. Damien was of a mind to give her a high-five, but alas, they were across the campfire from each other.
Sebastian rubbed at the back of his neck like he was so often wont to do. "Okay, fine. Fine! The bit about Damien wasn't an insult. Can you blame me though? You're all a rather unhinged lot."
The entire group went silent as a Jobberknoll.
A beat passed. Someone coughed. Damien wasn't sure who.
And then they all erupted into a fit of laughter, Damien leading the pack. Ale even snorted, which only made everyone laugh harder, especially since Sebastian's face had gone bright red as he sputtered, "I don't know what you're all laughing about. It's true."
Anne regained her composure first. "Speak for yourself, Seb," she said, wiping tears from her eyes. "Speak for yourself."
Sebastian grumbled, "Fine, but my point still stands," then beelined back to the campfire where he ignored them all to stare at the flames with great conviction.
"I'd like to hear Damien's story," Alyn piped in from beside Damien. Matty, who was still nursing her first marshmallow on the fire—she was rather meticulous about its bake—nodded vigorously across the circle, the flickering flames illuminating her face and making her blonde hair glow a striking shade of copper.
Jo added with a kind smile, "I bet Damien will do a fantastic job."
Damien appreciated the show of support. He knew he had a great story to tell. He didn't think they'd be disappointed. His story was based in truth, after all. And the best stories were based in truth, especially the scary ones.
Freddie mumbled, "Sebastian might be right," but Val shushed him with a finger to her lips. When he moved closer to Val, most likely to play some sort of mischief, Ale glowered at Freddie on Val's behalf, and Freddie halted abruptly. "Never mind," he said, "Damien, go ahead. Tell us your story."
Wren, Theo, Wesley, Sovann, and Cal all cheered at that. Cal even gave Damien two thumbs up. Nice of him, really. Damien smiled. It was good to have (mostly) supportive friends.
Sebastian settled down beside him with his new desiccated ball of pure char, mumbled something that sort of resembled "Sorry, D," stuffed the entire horrendous thing in his mouth, then tossed Damien an impish grin. With his cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk, Damien forgave him instantly.
And so Damien began his tale.
//
It was a dark and stormy night.
("Really, D?"
"I'm kidding! Just kidding.")
Nathaniel never had a mother.
Well, he supposed he did, technically, but he never knew her. She died before he had seen more than a handful of sunrises. It certainly didn't help that Nathaniel's father never talked about her much, or at all really. Nathaniel didn't even know how she died, although he assumed it had something to do with childbirth, which would have made it very much his fault.
As Nathaniel grew into a boy, he went through a rotation of nursemaids. None stuck around long, and they all left with the same complaint: Nathaniel's father's cold demeanor. Nathaniel didn't blame them, but it still hurt immensely, especially when he overheard snippets of conversation: "It's such a pity Nathaniel has such a ghastly man for a father" and "How could such a sweet boy be sired by such a horrendous man?", just to name a few.
No matter what Nathaniel did to convince his nursemaids to linger in his father's employ, no matter how often he opened doors for them, cleaned his room, set the table, told them they looked pretty, even when they were tired and exhausted from a long day, they always left. They never stayed.
Until someone did.
They met on a cold night in October, All Hallow's Eve to be precise. Nathaniel's window was open, the moon casting eerie rays of light on his bedsheets as he lay tucked in bed. Not that he knew it at the time, as his eyes were very much closed, but it was fifteen minutes past midnight.
Nathaniel was six, and he was sobbing himself to sleep.
("When is this going to get good?"
"Don't interrupt! He's working up to it. Right, D?"
"I promise it's scary."
"So far I'm bored."
"Hi bored, I'm Ominis."
"Thank you, Ominis. Very funny. Now can we let Damien continue, please?"
"Sure, go ahead, D."
"Right. As I was saying…")
Tap, tap, tap.
Nathaniel, startled, stopped crying for a moment to listen. The noise was likely tree branches hitting his window as they swayed in the cool autumn breeze. He tugged his duvet tighter around his body; his hands cramped as he clutched it, his palms turning the fabric nearly as damp as his pillow.
Tap, tap, tap.
"Why are you crying, boy?" A woman's voice.
Nathaniel jolted upright. There was a figure in the corner of his room, reclining in the rocking chair his nursemaids usually sat in. Nathaniel couldn't quite make out the features of the figure's face. But, whoever she was, she was the source of the tapping sound. Her foot tapped a constant rhythm on the wooden floorboards.
Nathaniel squinted in the dark, to no avail. The woman didn't stop tapping.
She repeated her earlier question.
Nathaniel didn't quite understand why the strange woman was asking, but he quickly came to the conclusion that if she was concerned about his feelings, she must be his new nursemaid. Why she was in his room in the middle of the night was also just beyond his understanding, but he was young, so he didn't question it. Instead, he answered her.
"I don't have any friends," Nathaniel said, a solitary tear running down his face. He swiped it away with a frantic flick of his hand. He really should put on a better face for his new nurse. He couldn't let her see him this way. He mustered a faint smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Will you be my friend?"
"Yes," the woman in the corner said. Nathaniel didn't question why she said nothing more. Nathaniel also didn't question why she remained in the shadows, not moving any closer to his bed. Nathaniel smiled to himself, a genuine smile this time, burrowed back under his duvet and promptly fell asleep. He'd find out more about his new nurse in the morning.
//
When morning arrived, Nathaniel's new nurse was nowhere to be found. And when Nathaniel asked his father about her at the breakfast table, his father glowered at him from behind his newspaper and said, "How should I know? I don't stoop so low as to hire them. Ask Cook."
Nathaniel didn't want to disturb Cook, who appeared far too busy to answer his question, so instead Nathaniel searched the estate, which had always been far too large for comfort. He wandered all the rooms, even the cellar, which he'd always found terrifying, but there was no new nurse. Not even a hint of her.
He went to bed that night confused, but still hopeful. Perhaps she'd been sick, or maybe she was only hired for nights. Yes, yes, that had to be it. A night nurse! He lay down and shut his eyes, but didn't fall asleep. With any luck, she'd arrive just like the night before, and he'd have a friend to talk to. But before long, Nathaniel's eyes grew heavy and he fell fast asleep.
Tap, tap, tap.
Nathaniel's eyes shot open. She was here! She was…
His new nurse was still seated in the rocking chair, but she'd dragged it closer to his bed. And yet, despite that, she remained cast in shadow, a mere hand's width out of the light. Nathaniel still couldn't make out her face.
Tap, tap, tap.
"What's your name?" he asked, hoping that she'd be amenable to conversation, especially now that she'd inched closer to him. That was a good sign, wasn't it? And she had agreed to being friends. It would be nice to have a friend.
She hummed quietly, and didn't answer his question.
Nathaniel tried something new. "Where were you today?"
Tap, tap, tap. Her dark profile slowly turned. "I come at night," she said.
"I thought so! You're my night nurse, aren't you? I've never had one of those before."
"I come at night," she repeated, turning her head slowly back to its earlier position. Nathaniel wished she'd say more. So far she didn't seem very chatty, but he supposed they were still getting to know each other, so he couldn't exactly blame her.
She began humming again. A strange tune, but faintly recognizable. Strange, but somehow comforting.
"Well, it's nice that you're here," he said, wrapping their conversation up for the night. He yawned. "I'm going to rest my eyes now. See you tomorrow night?"
She didn't answer, but Nathaniel nodded off to the sound of her steady tapping.
//
Weeks passed. Nathaniel's night nurse was always there, in the shadows, tap, tap, tapping away. She remained hidden in the darkness, but Nathaniel didn't mind… at first. He enjoyed the company, even if said company was far more reserved than he was used to. It was better than nothing. And, better yet, she stayed.
But as the weeks turned into months, Nathaniel grew dissatisfied with his situation. He could live without knowing her name. It was easy enough to refer to her as Nurse, just as he referred to the family cook as Cook. But her face? He wanted to see it. He wanted to know what she looked like. Was that too much to ask?
So, one year later, on All Hallow's Eve, he decided it was time. Nathaniel was going to tell his night nurse, his friend, how thankful he was for her year of service, for being a steady presence in his life, for not leaving, and then he was going to ask his question.
Nathaniel asked it now, as his night nurse sat in her customary rocking chair tapping away at the floor, as she always did. "May I see your face?"
He didn't expect her to say no.
("Oh! I've got it! She must be horrifically scarred."
"No, I think it's that she's someone he knows."
"That's dumb. Who would it be? It's not like Damien's told us about anyone else besides Nathaniel's father and Cook."
"I don't know! It would just be interesting, that's all."
"Way more interesting if she's terrifying to look at."
"Shut your gobs! The whole lot of you! Let Damien finish."
"Fine, Mr. Chewing His Fingernails to a Bloody Pulp."
"Am not!"
"Are to!"
"Shut the fuck up!"
"Are you sure you're alright, Bash? I can stop there."
"Don't you start now too. I'm perfectly alright."
"Here."
"... I don't need to hold your hand."
"I want you to."
"Merlin! Fine."
"Ready?"
"Ready."
"Okay.")
She said no.
"No? But why?"
She remained silent as the grave.
"Is it because you think you're ugly? Because I can assure you—"
"No."
"Then why?"
Tap, tap, tap.
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.
The tapping was growing more frantic, and the rhythm had changed.
It was growing louder too. Louder and then louder still, until it was deafening.
Nathaniel clapped his hands to his ears.
His bedroom door swung open, slamming against the wall with a resounding bang.
"I was trying to sleep!" Nathaniel's father shouted from the door. "What is this infernal…"
Screech.
The rocking chair slammed against the wall.
There was a hissing sound, followed by a terrible keening.
And then: "Murderer!"
A strangled shout pierced the air.
The shout came from deep within Nathaniel's father's throat. He rushed forward, toward Nathaniel's bed, reaching out for him, his arms shaking.
Before Nathaniel knew it, he was wrapped in his father's arms. "Don't look, Nate. Don't look."
Nathaniel wasn't sure what he wasn't supposed to be looking at. It was dark under his father's arms.
Until… his eyes snagged on something in the small sliver of gap between his father's body and his own.
Piercing green eyes, searching his, a perfect match. A woman's face coated in reddish-brown clumps, thickly flowing from the top of her head, down, down, down her forehead, the bridge of her nose, her plump lips, her dainty chin, until they dripped dark, like molasses, onto the duvet.
Blood. It was blood.
The woman turned her head, slowly, slowly… then fast, fast, fast.
Her head made one, two, three full revolutions around her neck, her long black hair twisting with it, then catching, choking, like a garotte.
"See me now, Nate?" she said. "See me now?"
Nathaniel screamed.
("HOLY SHIT."
"What the fuck is happening?"
"I have to… uh… use the loo. Don't wait for me."
"Coward."
"You know what? I'm not even going to refute that."
"Still with me, Bash?"
"Absolutely. I'm not scared. Not at all. I'm good. So good."
"Ow. Your grip's a bit, erm, tight."
"Sorry. That better?"
"Mhm. You're sure you're okay?"
"I'm sure. Keep going."
"Alright, if you say so.")
"Mary, please!" Nathaniel's father pleaded. "It's not his fault."
Nathaniel couldn't believe his ears. His father was begging… his night nurse… Mary?... no, the creature… to leave him be. His father was protecting him? His father was protecting him, but from what?
"You," the horrible creature hissed. "Not the boy. Not my son. You."
Son? Her… son? Could it really be? Was this Nathaniel's mother, returned from the grave? What? How? Why?
Nathaniel's father released his grip. He all but shoved Nathaniel at the headboard. "Take me then! Take me!"
A wail followed as the terrible wraith—God, Nathaniel's mother: no, no, no!—hurtled forward, her arms outstretched, her long, pale fingers, nails long and sharp, forming claws. She raked them across Nathaniel's father's face, then snaked them down until she halted at his broad chest.
It was quiet. Too quiet.
And then, her hand burst through the fabric of his father's checkered pyjamas, through skin, through fat, then muscle; blood sprayed the room, mingling with the heavy ichor already coating her face and the duvet beneath her.
Nathaniel was too terrified to cry out.
She gripped something then, something oddly shaped and pumping.
Nathaniel's father's heart.
She tore it from his chest and squeezed, three times.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
"Mother," Nathaniel whimpered. "No."
But there was no stopping her. And besides, Nathaniel's father was already dead.
Nathaniel's night nurse, Mary, his deceased mother, cackled in the dark of the night. She cackled, and Nathaniel had never felt more alone in his short life.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
//
There was a round of clapping. Slow and quiet at first, then louder still until the whole group roared in approval.
"There's something very wrong with you," Ellie said, but she was laughing. "That was great, D."
Damien's cheeks warmed. "Thanks, El's bells."
Even Freddie was smiling. "I apologize, D. You clearly know how to tell a spooky story. That was excellent. Most excellent, indeed."
Damien would have replied—it wasn't often that he received praise from Freddie of all people—but he was suddenly too distracted by Sebastian's hand, which was quivering in his.
"Hey," Damien said, releasing his grip and pulling Sebastian into his broad chest. "I'm sorry," he whispered against Sebastian's unruly mop of hair, just above his ear, ensuring no one else could hear. "I should have known that might be a bit much for you."
Sebastian nestled his head in the crook between Damien's shoulder and neck. "Not your fault," he mumbled. "Anyway, I asked for it."
Damien's eyes roamed the campfire to check if anyone was watching. Everyone was, of course. He caught Anne's gaze, and she nodded at him, somehow immediately reading what Damien was requesting: a distraction. Anne clapped her hands and diverted the group's attention to some other topic. Perhaps she would regale them with a happier story, so none of his friends would have nightmares tonight.
Not like Sebastian's terrible ones. Not like Damien's. They had always, unfortunately, had that problem in common. It was how Damien had come up with his spooky tale, after all. A little bit of inspiration from Sebastian's nightmares, as well as his own.
"Stay with me tonight. In my sleeping bag, okay? It's the least I can do."
"The others will talk, you know."
"I don't care. Do you?"
"No."
"Okay, then."
Sebastian leaned back, so Damien planted a gentle kiss on his forehead. Sebastian grumbled and wiped off the wet spot with a laugh.
"For someone so charming, you're really terrifying when you want to be, you know that?" Sebastian said.
Damien mustered the scariest face he could make, something between a sneer and a grimace. "You would know, love."
Sebastian grinned, yanked Damien by the scruff of his shirt, mumbled, "Quite right, you handsome devil, you," then kissed him on the lips, soft and tender.
And just like that, Damien had never felt so loved in his short life. Let the nightmares come; Damien dared them.
