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thenerdykneazle · 1 year ago

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Her Touch

Summary: Ominis had never been fond of being touched. Or, at least, he had few positive experiences with it. That changed with the arrival of the new fifth-year.

Ominis Gaunt x F!MC

Warnings: 18+ (only very mild spice here but I do want to do a time jumped part 2 that would be explicit), mentions of Ominis's abusive family, touch-starved Ominis

Word count: 3004

The first time you touched Ominis, he hadn’t been expecting it. It was in the Scriptorium, after he had commanded the door to open in Parseltongue. You had excitedly grabbed his shoulders as you said, “Ominis! You possess a rare ability, indeed!”

He had jumped at the sudden contact. Though, fortunately, you hadn’t seemed to notice. Your attention was quickly monopolised by Sebastian. Ominis was glad for it, as he wouldn’t have wanted to offend you, especially after his outburst at you outside the Undercroft. He still marvelled at how understanding you had been – how quickly you had forgiven him. He wasn’t used to such mercy. Certainly not from his family, and even Sebastian had a tendency to hold a grudge. Ominis definitely did.

Down in the Scriptorium, it had caught him off guard when you grabbed him, as he couldn’t see it coming. Besides, he didn’t generally like being touched. He hadn’t had many positive instances of others being in his personal space.

Most often, it involved accidentally bumping into other students. Other times, it was someone grabbing him to lead him off somewhere without bothering to get his permission first. Growing up, it had included a lot of being dragged by his ear by his mother or his older brother shoving him out of his way. The consequence of all of it was that Ominis did not associate being touched with positive experiences. They were jarring, often painful encounters.

However, already by the second time you touched him, it was different. Still in the Scriptorium, you had rested your hand on his arm as you told him you had found his Aunt Noctua’s remains. You didn’t grab his forearm; you just rested your hand gently on it. Not even your whole hand – just the tips of your fingers, really. It was a whisper of a touch, but you let it linger there. It was oddly comforting – like you were trying to communicate that he wasn’t alone. It kept him grounded to reality as he reckoned with the fact that his aunt truly was gone.

The third touch was when you agreed to tell Ominis if Sebastian was going to pursue dark magic further. You’d rested a hand on his shoulder as you vowed to tell him. He could tell you were sincere in your promise from your steady hand. That was verified when he received your owl alerting him that Sebastian had gone to the catacombs in search of Slytherin’s relic.

Though he always tried to take note, Ominis couldn’t remember every time you touched him. As your friendship grew, he quickly found out that you were what Sebastian called a “touchy-feely type.” You would hug him hello and goodbye, often multiple times a day. At first, you’d just sling one arm behind his back with your sides pressed together. After several months, you would wrap both arms around him as you held him chest-to-chest. Those hugs always left his face warm and his heart beating faster.

You also started to rest your head on his shoulder when you got tired. You always asked if it was all right. Ominis was surprised with himself the first few times, because he found that he quite enjoyed the weight and warmth of your head on his shoulder. You seemed so vulnerable when you leaned against him, trusting him to support you and not let any harm befall you should you give in to sleep. He even, on rare occasions and only when he felt completely secure in his environment, rested his own head back on yours. That usually resulted in him taking a nap, as well. He found that, despite the crick in his neck that he always awoke with, those were his most satisfying naps.

More recently, the back of your hand kept brushing against his when the two of you would walk together. He had jerked his hand away the first time, not anticipating the contact. He regretted it instantly when you muttered an apology. Ominis insisted that it was quite all right, though he was keenly aware that his actions had undermined his assertion. As it kept happening, Ominis’s reaction changed over time. He started to keep his hand very still so that yours might keep brushing against it. Now when it happened, his instinct was to extend his fingers toward you – though, he never actually did what he really wanted, which was to take hold of your hand.

Your touch had become a comfort for him. You held him when he cried, rubbed soothing circles on his back when he was anxious, and sat with your side pressed into his when he was lonely. Ominis had never known the multitude of problems a simple touch could solve before he met you.

Nor, however, had Ominis known the particular torment that such a touch could inflict. Just having you near him was enough to make his palms sweaty and his breathing shallow. If you rested a hand between his shoulder blades or, even worse, against his thigh, it sent his brain into a fit. He would get sweaty everywhere, and his tie would suddenly feel too tight. Just before the summer holidays, you had reclined on one of the sofas in the Room of Requirement as you read a novel while awaiting your exam scores. You invited Ominis to join you and promptly bridged your legs over his lap when he sat down. That had vexed him most of all. You hadn’t even rested them on him, just sort of over with your feet planted on the cushion to his right and your bum against his left thigh.

Ominis hadn’t known what to do with his hands. He didn’t want to accidentally rest them somewhere inappropriate, but he didn’t want to be awkward, either. Eventually, he settled on resting his left arm on the back of the sofa and his right hand on your stocking-clad knee. His thumb began absently stroking back and forth just above it, and he had blushed furiously when he grazed the hem of your skirts. It had brought, unbidden, the idea of sliding his hand underneath the fabric, trailing it up your thigh. That had a sudden heat building in his abdomen – and spreading across his cheeks.

“How is your book?” he had asked, hoping for a distraction.

“Erm…yeah. It’s…it’s good,” you had replied.

Ominis spent entirely too long trying to analyse your odd response. Had you been uncomfortable? Or perhaps just absorbed in your book? Could you have been as affected by the proximity between you two as he had? He couldn’t be sure, and he certainly wasn’t about to ask, “Are you finding this as stimulating as I am? Because I’m feeling quite randy.”

That would’ve gone over well.

He pondered the possibilities frequently over the holidays. Two months spent apart from you were horrible. Not only did he have to deal with his family, but he missed you something dreadful. At least, he had been accompanied by Sebastian, who spent the entire time at Gaunt Manor given he had no guardian in Feldcroft to look after him.

Ominis didn’t realise how much he’d been brooding until his friend called him out for having “resting sad face” and demanded to know what was bothering him. They had been lying in their beds, and Ominis shifted to his side to face Sebastian before admitting that he missed you.

“I think I’ve grown to have quite strong feelings for her,” he confessed.

Sebastian snorted out a laugh. “Oh, you think so, do you?” he asked, sounding thoroughly amused.

“It’s not funny!” Ominis groused, his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“It’s funny that you think it isn’t abundantly obvious that you fancy her, mate,” Sebastian retorted.

Ominis’s eyes widened. “What?” he asked, horrified at the thought of everyone knowing his feelings for you. He wasn’t ashamed of them, but he was quite a private person. The idea of everyone knowing such personal feelings of his was mortifying.

“Well, maybe not to her. People tend to be a bit thick about other’s feelings toward them, but I expect that anyone who knows you two can see it. You turn into a mushy little crup when she’s around,” Sebastian explained.

“I do not!” Ominis replied indignantly.

“Sure,” Sebastian said sceptically, clearly trying to avoid a fight.

They fell silent for several long moments.

“She fancies you too, you know,” Sebastian stated.

Ominin’s pulse jumped. “You can’t possibly know that,” he argued, trying to temper the hope bubbling up in his chest.

“I knew you about your cush, didn’t I?” Sebastian retorted. “Besides, she told me she does.”

“She did?” Ominis said eagerly. “Wait, you can’t tell me this, Sebastian! You’re betraying her confidence!”

Sebastian let out an exasperated sigh. “She never said I couldn’t tell you,” he replied.

“I’m sure it was implied,” Ominis said. “But…she really has feelings for me, too?”

“Without a doubt,” Sebastian said confidently.

That gave Ominis a lot more to think about before school resumed. He flipped back and forth between being elated at the idea that you reciprocated his feelings and panicking that the separation would change that.

All his fears melted away the instant you hugged him on the platform at King’s Cross station. It was the best hug he’d ever gotten. You clung to him like you never wanted to let go again, and Ominis would’ve been all right with that.

“Gods, I missed you two!” you said before giving Sebastian a hug, leaving Ominis to mourn the loss of your arms around him. “How was your holiday?”

“As good as being around my family can be,” Ominis replied. “How was yours?”

“Brilliant! Though, I wish you two could’ve visited!” you said.

The boys both agreed, though Ominis knew his parents would’ve never let him stay with a family they didn’t know. Or, rather, who were of unvetted blood status. He wasn’t about to subject her to experiencing his family in their own domain, so he hadn’t invited her to come to him.

Ominis had a lingering worry that things would be different between you two – that spending the summer apart would make things awkward between you. But when you rested your head on his shoulder and fell asleep as the train rattled down the tracks, he felt confident that you’d fall right back into how things were at the end of the last term.

Indeed, things seemed the same if not better. You often invited him to study in the Room of Requirement. His fear that he had made you uncomfortable the last time you’d been on a sofa together was eliminated when you took to putting your legs over his more often than not whilst you did your assigned readings. You only opted for one of the desks in the room if you had to write an essay.

It was a beautiful sort of torture to have you so close to him. It drastically decreased Ominis’s reading speed, but he found himself looking forward to studying now. He’d rest one hand on your knee while his other held his wand to let him read his tome. Sometimes you’d read aloud to him. Sometimes he’d hug your closer leg to his chest and rest his chin on your knee. It was like having his childhood stuffy but warmer and attached to someone who genuinely cared about him.

In the safety of your embrace, he shared his more intimate thoughts with you. Not the one about running his hand up your skirt, but about his hopes for the future, his frustrations with his family, and even his insecurities. You, in turn, opened up to him, as well. And as the weather got colder, you kept him warm in the draughty castle. Though, he was prepared to conjure a thick wool blanket over you if you ever seemed to be chilled.

After a month of being back a school, Ominis decided to admit his feelings to you. He was certain yours couldn’t have vanished over the summer given how you had only gotten more comfortable around him. However, when Ominis went to voice his feelings, he found that he didn’t know how. He knew how he felt about you, but he had spent his whole life suppressing how he felt to keep from stirring up trouble at home.

“I need to tell you something,” Ominis admitted during your daily study session.

He could hear you close your book and set it on the coffee table, giving him your full attention. “What is it?” you asked, sounding concerned.

“I…Well, I…” he tried, but his words were failing him. He usually fancied himself a rather eloquent individual, but he felt thoroughly uneducated as he stammered at you.

How was he supposed to tell you what was in his heart? Just say, “I like you”? Of course he liked you. You were friends. Close friends. “I fancy you” seemed so juvenile. “I want to court you” was too impersonal. It could be for your talent or station, but he wanted you to know how taken he was with who you were as a person.

You rested a hand lightly on his arm. “You can tell me anything, Ominis,” you said earnestly.

His heart swelled at your kindness. He wished he could say what he felt, but he didn’t have the right words. He moved to hold the hand you’d rested on him, lacing his fingers with yours. “I really like this,” he said, giving your hand a squeeze.

You squeezed his hand back. “I like it, too,” you replied.

“Good. I…I had hoped you do,” he said clumsily.

You stayed like that until dinner, your studies forgotten as you just basked in the closeness of each other. It hadn’t been exactly what Ominis had tried to accomplish, but it was definitely progress.

Ominis started taking other opportunities to hold your hand. He’d hold it during classes, giving up his dominant hand in favour of your warmth. Besides, he knew you’d share your notes with him later. He’d also search it out while you studied. He’d graze the backs of his fingers up your leg until he found your arm, which he’d follow down to the hand resting in your lap.

Sometimes, you’d take the initiative, taking hold of his hand while it still rested on your knee. Usually, you’d pull it down to rest it your lap or on your stomach, so you could relax your own arm. It always made Ominis’s heart flutter to know you wanted to hold his hand – and he found your occasional impatience quite endearing.

Then, one day in November, you pulled his hand to your lips, instead. His breath hitched as you placed a gentle kiss on his knuckles. Your lips were soft and warm, and Ominis had the impulse to reach out and brush his fingers over them.

“Is that okay?” you asked cautiously, your warm breath hitting the back of his hand.

“Y-yes, of course,” Ominis replied breathlessly. He could feel his face flushing with heat.

“Can I ask you something?” you said, sounding grave.

“Anything,” Ominis replied without hesitation despite the pit of worry in his stomach.

You shifted on the sofa, moving to sit up. Your knees pressed against his leg as you sat with your legs tucked under you. Ominis could hear you take in a deep breath before you spoke. “What are we?”

Ominis’s brows pulled together. “What?”

“To each other,” you clarified. “I mean, do you like me?”

“Most ardently,” Ominis admitted with conviction. It was only after the words had passed from his lips that he worried he’d been severely mistaken about your feelings.

“Oh,” you breathed out, sounding surprised. That only heightened his anxiety. “Do you not want to court me?”

“No, I do,” Ominis replied earnestly, wondering what reason you could have to think he wouldn’t.

“Then, why don’t you?” you asked. You didn’t sound upset, just curious.

“Well, I…I wasn’t sure if you’d want to, and…I didn’t know how to ask, I guess,” he said.

“I do,” you said before adding, “want to, I mean.”

Ominis felt like he’d just eaten a handful of Fizzing Whizbees. His whole body felt light, like he might float right off the sofa. “Really?” he asked eagerly, before trying to force himself to be rational. “Are you certain? I’m…not very good at this sort of thing. Clearly. I’m sure you could find someone much better suited to the task.”

“I don’t want someone else,” you said. “I like you, Ominis.”

He couldn’t help but smile. “Sebastian told me you did over the summer, I just…didn’t know how to tell you that I felt the same without it sounding ridiculous,” he admitted, not wanting any secrets between you.

“Sebastian told you?” you asked.

“I scolded him for betraying what you had told him, but he said you hadn’t asked him to keep it secret,” Ominis explained.

“I never told Sebastian that I have feelings for you,” you stated.

Ominis’s jaw dropped. “That lying rat!” he said, his anger swelling.

You chuckled. “Well, he wasn’t wrong,” you pointed out.

“I suppose not,” Ominis said, still irritated with his best friend. It was hard to stay upset, though, when he realised you had all but agreed to court him. “So, to make it official, would you do me the honour of letting me court you?”

“Yes,” you said without hesitation.

Ominis was beaming. Even knowing your answer ahead of time, he still felt overjoyed to hear it.

His singing heart began pounding hard in his chest as he felt your palm rest gently against his cheek. Your breath ghosted over his face as you leaned in, and he tilted his chin up to meet you. Your lips met his in a soft embrace. As they interlocked, it was a confession of your budding affections. A tender pledge of future bliss. You were his – your touch, your love, your loyalty. And he was yours, wholly and truly.

A/N: The line "a tender pledge of future bliss" is from the poem "To A Kiss" by Robert Burns

#ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x f!mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #ominis gaunt fanfic #ominis gaunt fanfiction #physical touch #touch starved

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vivwritesfics · 8 months ago

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Miss Ferrari

Sebastian Vettel didn't mean to catch the eye of Mrs Ferrari, Enzo Ferrari's great granddaughter. But she caught his eye, too.

Warnings: Smut, handjob, p in v, unprotected, Red Bull seb (slut warning)

She didn't mean to spend all of her time before the race staring at the young Red Bull driver. There wasn't anything special about him; she didn't even know his name. Nothing special, but there was something about him, something that prevented her from pulling her eyes away.

The Ferrari jacket covered her shoulders as she surveyed the paddock. She hadn't been to a race in years, her father keeping up the family tradition of never watching their team race. But it was a stupid family tradition, and she wanted to watch some Goddamn racing.

This was one of the biggest events of the year for her, and she dressed the part for it. On the Friday and the Saturday she had dressed relatively normally, keeping her outfits on the Ferrari theme.

But she did something special for race day. A red dress that was turning heads, just like she knew she would. Good, let them stare. Let the cameras be trained on her. A grin sat on her red painted lips as she looked around the paddock.

When Fernando Alonso, driver for the team her family owned, approached, she let that grin turn to a polite smile. It was one of the only races she was able to attend between her studies, it always had the drivers coming to say a hello.

The last race she attended, she couldn't stop herself from flirting from Fernando Alonso. It was harmless, a little bit of fun (even if she would have taken him to her bed). Besides, he was married then, and he was nearly eight years her senior. That hadn't stopped Fernando from flirting back. To him, it really was just harmless fun. He wouldn't have followed her between her sheets, even if she'd batted her pretty eyelashes and let a pout cross her lips.

Even as Fernando spoke to her, she was looking across the paddock, at the blond in the Red Bull overalls. He was something to look at, that was for sure. She wasn't sure what she was saying from where she was sat, but she couldn't stop herself from wondering.

As he finished up his interview, he wore a pretty smile of his own. He laughed at something he himself had said and the interview finished. He was still laughing with the interviewer as he turned on his heel to leave.

As he walked through the paddock, he kept his eyes on the ground. But then he walked past the Ferrari hospitality area, and there was no way he couldn't look at her.

That was the point of the dress, wasn't it? To be eye catching? She couldn't stop the way her eyes glimmered behind her coffee mug as his steps faltered. It was incredibly amusing, but she didn't expect any different.

Her eyes met his for only a second before he was gathering himself up and scrambling away from her. "Who was that?" She asked Fernando as she sat back in her seat.

Fernando just laughed.

Her official first time meeting Sebastian Vettel, the current world champion, went much smoother. She'd been watching the race from the Ferrari hospitality unit, eyes following the number five car around the track.

Not only was the Red Bull driver cute, but he was good at what he did. If she cared, she would have tried to get him into the Ferrari for the following year. God knows all she'd have to do is bat her eyelashes as her nails moved up and down his wrist in a way that would have made him shiver.

That Red Bull had dominated for almost the entire weekend, and it wasn't a surprise when he finished first. As he did one final lap, waving at the cheering Monza crowd (the sounds of the cheers would have increased tenfold if it had been a Ferrari finishing P1), she was escorted to the podium.

The moment Fernando stepped onto the podium, the crowd erupted. She almost felt bad for the other two drivers, those that had finished ahead of the man in her team, because the crowd certainly wouldn't be this enthusiastic for them.

She gave the Spaniard a smile as he excepted his trophy. Jensen Button walked out onto the podium next, a spring in his step as he climbed onto the next stand on the podium, leaving the tallest step free. Just as she had predicted, the crowd was much less enthusiastic for Jensen Button. They still screamed and cheered, but not nearly as loud as they had for Fernando.

And then it was Sebastian Vettel's turn. He stepped onto the podium, pumping his fist as he looked down at his team. He met her eye, only briefly, before climbing onto the top step of the podium.

Trophy in hand, she strode over. Her hand was outstretched to shake his own. "Miss Ferrari," he said as he looked down her her, eyes dipping just below her face. It only slightly gave him away.

"Mr Vettel, if I'm not mistaken," she said and handed him the trophy. "You were quite good out there."

His tongue was between his teeth, poking out slightly. As badly as he wanted to reply, to let a quip slip from his lips, she was gone before he got the chance, walking to stand at the edge of the podium as the German national anthem started up.

It was almost like they were drawn to each other. Both of them were too old to believe in anything like fate, but they were undeniably drawn to each other.

She left the podium when they began spaying the champagne, not wanting to risk her dress. But she watched what she could, watched as he lifted the champagne bottle to his lips and let it splash on his face.

What a fucking sight.

Sebastian Vettel opened his emails later that night. He wasn't expecting much, emails from Red Bull, maybe some from his family. He scrolled through, checking all he'd received for the day. And then, an email from someone unfamiliar. He didn't recognise who it was from, and it held an address. Just an address, no more information than that. And, below the address, a signature.

- Miss Ferrari.

Normally, Seb was heading to the airport as soon as he was finished at the track. That night, he navigated his way to the address given to him by Miss Ferrari in the email. His palms were sweating against the steering wheel as he drove. He was a flirt, sure, but this was further than anything that had happened before. And the scariest part was how unafraid he was.

He pulled his car up outside of the house. It was an hour outside of the race track, in the countryside. The house was all gorgeous brickwork and plants climbing around the doors. Sebastian admired it for just a couple of minutes before he climbed out of his car and walked up to the door and knocked.

Enzo Ferrari's granddaughter pulled open the door. She was still in that red dress as she looked at him, smile sultry as she looked at him. "Hello, Mr Vettel," she said as she leaned against the door. "I see you received my email."

Sebastian's grin was just as sultry as her smile. "Miss Ferrari," he replied, and she decided that she loved the way it fell from his tongue. "Are you going to tell me why you invited me here?"

"You'll find out soon," she answered and stepped to the side, allowing him into her house.

Minutes later, she and Sebastian were on her couch, each of them with a glass of wine in her hands. Sebastian couldn't ignore the way that her foot moved against his leg. He swallowed as she praised him and his driving.

"It sounds like you want me to come and drive for Ferrari," he said and sipped his wine.

The minute he said it, her leg stilled, settling over his thigh. "You misunderstand me, Sebastian," she said, eyes narrowing at him. "I don't want you to drive for Ferrari. I want just the opposite."

She placed her wine glass down and looked at him. Her gaze was fixed on his. His nerves had bubbled up into anticipation, nails digging into his thigh.

"You must know what I want, Mr Vettel," she said. "You must know why I invited you here."

He swallowed. "Yes, Miss Ferrari," he replied. "I know."

She was in his lap as soon as he said it. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, lips on his and her legs on either side of his own. Sebastian started off by holding her hips, but they slipped down and around, cupping her ass and pulling her closer.

She released a groan and began kissing down his neck. "We shouldn't," Sebastian said through gasps.

"We should," she replied, hands reaching down to free him from his trousers. His moans and groans spurred her on as she wrapped her fingers around him and began moving. "You're so big," she whispered and kissed the space beneath his ear. "I can't wait for you to fuck me on this sofa."

And suddenly, she was on her back, Sebastian on top of her. He gathered up her skirt and pulled her underwear down. "Is this what you wanted, Miss Ferrari?" He practically growled as he ground his hips against her own, holding her hips still against the sofa.

She wrapped her legs around him, trapping him in place. "Yes, this is what I want," he said, hands pulling at his blonde hair.

Sebastian wasted no time. He slipped inside of her, eyes falling shut and his forehead falling around her chest. "Fuck," he groaned, hips rutting against her. But it was slow and he was barely moving, pushing in a little more each time. "Fuck, Miss Ferrari."

Her fingers twisted through his blonde hair, but she didn't pull. Gasps left her lips as Sebastian started moving. "Holy shit, Sebastian," she moaned through her gasps. Tugging on his hair, she pulled him up and kissed him. It was messy, sloppy, and they kept having to stop to let out a slew of noises.

Her legs tightened around him as Sebastian kissed her chest, what was exposed by her red dress. "I need to get this off of you," he said against her lips. "Need to see all of you."

She clenched around him and the noise Sebastian released was inhuman. Her legs shook as he reached between them and played with her clit.

But then her legs stilled and tightened around him as he came. The noises that left her lips were high pitched and desperate.

Sebastian slowed. His thrusts were sloppy against her. But, eventually, he came, spilling inside of her. He pulled out and fell against her, holding her close on the small sofa.

"Now you can never join Ferrari," she said with a melodic laugh, her hand settling on his chest.

Sebastian had her twice more that night. Both times were on the bed before they settled beneath the covers, naked as the day they were born and cuddling up to each other.

The next morning, after breakfast in her garden, she walked him to her front door, dressed in nothing but a pair of short shorts and a loose fitting shirt. "We'll have to do this again, Seb," she said as she leaned against the door, almost the picture of what he had arrived to.

Sebastian's response was simple. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in, kissing her quickly. "When can you come to my next race?"

A sigh left her lips and Sebastian released her. "I can't," she said with the shake of her head. "Come back to Italy after your next race."

If Sebastian was older, he would have said 'no'. He wold have told her that he didn't want to do this unless they were both all in. Her coming to see his races, him coming to visit her in Italy. But Sebastian was young. He wanted to see her again and was ready to do whatever she asked of him.

Their relationship went on for years. All through Sebastian's Red Bull Career, she was there, watching the races from her home in the Italian countryside as she completed her studies. Even if she wasn't studying, she wouldn't have gone to his races. Sebastian hated it, but he put up with it.

Their relationship was never public. Sebastian was flirting with interviewers, as he always did.

But then the Ferrari contract came through.

It was a conversation they'd had just once, back when he returned to Italy, just to see her. She'd bought a swing for the garden and the two of them had spent the afternoon setting it up. As soon as it was set up, they sat on it together, cuddled up as they spoke beneath the stars. That was when Sebastian had been brave enough to ask why she didn't want him in Ferrari.

"My father loves that team more than he loves me," she spat, fingers stilling against his chest. "When I was a child, I thought Ferrari was taking him from me and I hated it. I know better now, but that hatred is still there."

He understood. Well, he tried. But it was so deeply personal to her, it was hard to express. But Sebastian still kissed her head.

But here they were, three years later and Sebastian signed the contract. It was such an incredible opportunity, she'd have to understand, he reasoned to himself.

When he arrived at her house in Italy, the house they'd share once she knew about the contract, he hoped, she didn't answer the door.

Sebastian called her name as he pounded on the door and searched for the spare key. He didn't know that she had just been on the phone with her father, hearing all about their exciting new driver for 2015. Sebastian Vettel, had she heard of him? She tried not to let her emotion show in her voice as she stared at the picture of the two of them that sat on her bedside table.

When Sebastian arrived at her house, she listened to him pound on the door for a good few minutes. And then she got up and walked into her office. Pushing open the window, she stared down at him.

Sebastian didn't realise it at first. It was only when she cleared her throat that she looked up. "My love," he called as he looked up at her. It was like something from a fairytale, except she was ready to dump a cup of water on her head.

"Don't," she spat as she glared at him. "You signed a Ferrari contract."

Sebastian let out a breath. "I did," he answered and watched the fury twist onto her face. "You have to understand! This is a huge opportunity for me! I can win another championship with Ferrari!"

"So, driving for Ferrari is more important to you than me?" She questioned, voice full of genuine curiosity. But it wasn't genuine at all.

Sebastian furrowed his brows. "No, of course Ferrari isn't more important to me than you."

"Well." She checked her nails. "How is it going to look when the world finds out that you're engaged to the great granddaughter of Enzo Ferrari?" She asked and picked at the non-existent dirt. "How will that look to other teams?"

"Shit," Seb hissed. He shut his eyes and threw his head back. "My love, I didn't think about that."

Her glare was fixed back on him. "No, Sebastian, you didn't." She spat, bracing herself on the window. "Do you even want to marry me anymore?"

"Yes, I want to marry you!" He called as if it was some grand declaration.

She shook her head. "You want both. Me, and a drive."

Sebastian nodded.

"You can't have both," she said so quietly that he almost didn't hear it. "I don't want you to choose, Seb! I want you to have both! But, if you have me, it will ruin your career. And I won't have that."

With shining eyes, Sebastian watched as she pulled the window shut.

a/n: hey guys! Hope you enjoyed this one, lemme know what you thought of the moodboard bc i made it myself

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valley-of-headcanons · 29 days ago

Note

I would like to request a farmer taking care of a sick Sebastian, if that's alright with you!

poor thing || sebastian x reader oneshot

sebastian is a sickly victorian child, if only there was someone to nurse him back to health ...

warnings: sebastian jokingly tells you to kys

requested by: @thatwolfnamednyla , hiya!! sorry for this taking so long, life stuff, yada yada. i hope you enjoy the request! i tried to make sure it was different from the harvey one despite the similar premise lmao. i really enjoyed writing this!! <3

Sebastian texting you in the middle of the day to complain about something wasn't new. When you were hard at work, you'd check your phone to see your lovely boyfriend venting to you through text. It wasn't usually too serious, and it was really to start a conversation or to get his thoughts out. You weren't expecting the complaints that he shared with you today, though.

Seb 💙: my head hurts so bad rn ngl, and my sinuses are fucked. i hate spring :/

❤️: Do you need me to bring you some medicine? I can run by Harvey's soon.

Seb 💙: plea

Seb 💙: pjease

Seb 💙: oh my fucking god my eyes hurt so bad i can't fumking type

❤️: You poor thing :(

Seb 💙: kys 😘

Sebastian was curled up in his blankets when you arrived, staring at his phone like a zombie. He looked like a wreck, his face more pale and his hair messier than usual. He looked at you in the doorway, holding some medicine and what looked to be hot soup. He had a soft smile on his face, attempting to speak. All that came out was a squeak, and then silent embarrassment. He was definitely a wreck.

You sat down beside him on the bed, grabbing the medicine from the bag. “Harvey gave me some cough syrup and some allergy meds. I also grabbed some Tylenol for your head, and some food. You barely take care of yourself as is, you probably haven't even gotten out of bed to eat. Have you?”

With a shake of his head, Sebastian sat up and rubbed his eyes. “C- ... couldn't get the motivation. I haven't even tried talking this morning yet, I didn't know my voice was all ... gross,” he said with a soft frown. He rested his warm forehead on your shoulder as you began to pour some cough medicine for him. He took it begrudgingly, gagging at the taste.

“You're more dramatic when you're sick, huh?” you said with a smile, grabbing the pills that you had been given. You handed them to Sebastian and forced him to take them with water. Dehydration was pretty common with Sebastian, as he sometimes forgets to drink enough throughout the day.

Sebastian took the medicine and continued drinking the water, just like you asked. “Listen- ... I feel, sound, and probably look like a sickly Victorian child on their deathbed. Let me be the dramatic one for once,” he mumbled softly.

You laughed softly, opening up your arms and allowing Sebastian to lay his head against your chest. “Well, let me be your deathbed, I guess. I'll stay as long as you want me to, 'kay? I've done pretty much everything I need to do today. You've got me for the rest of the night, if you'd like.”

Sebastian croaked out a soft “okay,” wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer. The sound of your heartbeat echoed through his ears, a wave of calm washing over him. His body was drained, and when he was with you, he felt safe enough to rest it. He didn't feel the need to be productive, or walk outside and smoke. He just had you, and he was okay with putting his health in your hands.

You brushed your hand through his hair, feeling the soft strands. It was extremely soft when it didn't have mountains of gel coating it. You loved every aspect of him and his style, even if it prevented you from really feeling his hair all the time. He did really like the sensation, though. He wouldn't verbally admit it, but he'd certainly let you know through the soft sigh of relief.

Grabbing the remote, you flicked on the TV. Sebastian was obsessed with this fantasy show, so you decided to turn it on. He'd rematched it several times, and you knew he'd be excited to watch it again.

Sebastian eyes flickered to the screen, before turning to you and pressing a gentle kiss against your jaw. He slinked back to your chest, snuggling into the space between your collarbone and your neck. He was so comfortable, despite how sick he felt. You were the best medicine after all. Also, the medicine you gave him was starting to kick in. That's probably it.

“Thank you,” Seb mumbled softly. He took your free hand in his, rubbing over your knuckles with his thumb. “I appreciate what all you do for me, even if I'm sick and whiny,” he said, clearing his throat.

“You don't have to thank me, hon. Everyone needs to be taken care of sometimes. But, what you can do to repay me, is to start feeling better,” you said, planting a quick kiss on his forehead.

“I can't just magically feel betterrrr ...” he whines gently, burying his head deeper within your chest.

You sighed jokingly, rubbing his back. “Fiiiiine, I guess you pass this time. Next time, you're not getting away with it.”

“Oh nooo ... that's so saddd ...” he said, jokingly monotone. He snuggled even closer, looking up at you. “I love you, by the way.”

“And I love you,” you smiled, kissing his cheek. “Are you feeling any better, though?”

He nodded, laying back onto you. “Mhm ... I think I just needed you. Feelin' a lot better.”

“Good,” you said with a smile. You kept rubbing his back, feeling him relax into your touch. Before long, you heard a soft snore from him, followed by a few twitches. He had fallen asleep, comfortable in your arms. He really needed the sleep, and it's definitely weird seeing Sebastian asleep so early. Hopefully, this was a sign he would feel better tomorrow. You wouldn't have it any other way.

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sallowedbethyname · 15 days ago

Text

to be home, to be loved, ch.1

pairing: sebastian sallow x reader (hogwarts legacy)

rating: mature (eventual smut)

themes: found family, friends to lovers, slow burn

summary: Eleazar Fig and Solomon Sallow died. Anne Sallow had disappeared. You, Sebastian, and Ominis tried as best as you can to move on, learn, and heal from everything that had happened. In an effort to keep Sebastian company and gave Ominis a new refuge after your fifth year at Hogwarts ended, you proposed an idea: the three of you living together in the house Professor Fig left you.

notes: am i too late to write fics for the infamous, the illustrious, the genius sebastian sallow when hogwarts legacy came out almost 2 years ago? probably, but that never stopped me before, so here it is!

read the full chapter on AO3

read chapter 2

It had been over a week since Spring arrived, melting white snow to make way for verdant green and vibrant colors. Hogwarts was lovely this time of the year, with blooming flowers and swirling butterflies softening the solemness of the castle. It was almost hard to believe that just a few weeks ago, you had been fighting for your life against Ranrok, shaking the very foundation of the castle. Yet Hogwarts still stood tall and majestic. Unshakeable.

Everyone called you Hogwarts’ Hero, but you wondered if they knew that your sleep had been plagued with vivid dreams of bright flashes of red, the memories of the Keepers, and the light fading from your mentor’s eyes as he drew his last breath. Who would've expected that you'd have trauma by the end of your fifth year? Certainly not you.

The teachers, bless their hearts, seem to be paying more attention to you these days. Even more than before, when they used to give you tasks and extra lessons to make up for lost time. Among them, Professor Weasley was the one who often reached out to you to inquire about your O.W.L preparations.

Curiously, though, the deputy headmistress didn't seem interested in your O.W.L or Field Guide today. Instead, she regarded you with a gentle, sympathetic expression as she handed you a thick envelope.

“I know the grief of losing Professor Fig must be too fresh for you, but with the year ending and… in light of everything that has happened recently, I'm afraid this cannot wait.”

You stilled in your seat, immediately assuming the worst. Had the remaining goblin forces taken arms again? A new enemy entering the fray? Or perhaps you weren't meticulous enough when locking away Isidora’s repository and some of the magic had leaked away?

Professor Weasley cleared her throat. “This is Professor Fig’s will. He'd entrusted this to me the night you fought Ranrok. I assume you knew that Professor Fig and Miriam had no children?”

“Yes,” you slowly replied, thinking back to the months before Hogwarts where Fig patiently taught you everything you need to know about magic.

What Professor Weasley said next made your eyes widen in surprise.

“Well… Professor Fig had decided to list you as his beneficiary. This means all his possessions now belong to you, including his house in London.”

“I— what?”

“It’s all stated in his will,” Professor Weasley nodded at the envelope before you, urging you to open it.

You hesitated. Eyebrows furrowing in confusion and disbelief. You wondered if this is a setup. Perhaps Professor Weasley decided to give you a surprise test before O.W.L to really gauge your readiness? But what purpose would it serve? The deputy headmistress has no reason to trick you and even if she did, she wouldn’t resort to using Fig, wouldn’t she? It would be too cruel.

Still, the deputy headmistress was silent while you mentally hyper-analyzed your current predicament. Nervously, you reached out for the envelope, pulling out its contents with trembling hands. Complicated words jumped out at you when you unfurled the parchment. You weren’t really well-versed in legal phrases and languages, but as you read through the pages and saw the stamps and signatures that belonged to Fig, you realized that everything Professor Weasly said was true.

Professor Fig left you everything.

“I… This is…”

You could feel your eyes getting wet with tears but blinked them all away, refusing to let out even the smallest sob or sniffle. Not in front of Professor Weasley, at least. Professor Fig never really expressed any sort of familial affection to you. Any praise and encouragement mostly only came because of your aptitude for magic and quick thinking. Because of that, you assumed he only saw you as his student. You two hadn’t known each other that long, after all.

You flipped the pages and began to reread everything from the beginning and, to nobody’s surprise, nothing’s changed. The content of his will stayed the same.

But why, you found yourself thinking. A big wave of grief swept over you. A part of yourself secretly wishing Fig could’ve told you all this on his own. After all, despite everything, he had been the closest thing to a father that you’ve ever had.

Not for the first time, your chest swelled with rage towards Ranrok, though you know it was futile.

“I had the pleasure to talk with Fig not long after he discovered you,” Professor Weasley finally spoke with a gentle voice. “He told me how gifted you are, how he had never seen someone learn magic so quickly. He was very proud of you, dear. And I’m sure that sentiment only grew bigger until the very end of his journey.”

“I… I don't know what to say, Professor, I…” you stammered.

With a flick of her wand, a cup of warm tea appeared on the desk and Professor Weasley offered it to you. “Fig also told me that you were living in an orphanage. I suppose he hoped that, though he’s no longer with us, you can now have a home to return to aside from Hogwarts.”

You sobbed, unable to hold back the tears. Without wasting a beat, Professor Weasley was already at your side, rubbing soothing circles on your back. The warm gesture was appreciated, of course, but you tried your best to stop crying.

“Your mentor is a good man,” she said. “He had made sure that you’ll never live in want.”

“Truthfully, Professor, I don’t know if I deserved this. I…” you paused, rubbing your eyes with the sleeve of your cloak.

“Nonsense, you’ve done so much for the wizarding world. I know Fig, he wouldn’t have made this decision if he wasn’t sure,” Professor Weasley reassured her. “But… it's up to you, in the end, whatever you want to do with Professor Fig’s possessions. I advise you to sleep on it tonight before coming up with a decision.”

Your nose flared as you took a deep breath, blinking away the burn in your eyes. “Alright,” you said, suddenly feeling more exhausted than ever. “I'll give it a thought. Thank you, Professor.”

The deputy headmistress nodded. “Well, I shan't keep you any longer. You still have classes to attend, after all. But rest assured, I'll always offer you my assistance should you need it.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

Try as you might, you couldn't stop thinking about Fig’s will. You barely paid attention to whatever Professor Sharp was saying (you were pretty sure he was giving you disappointed looks the whole time) and, when class was finally over, you began walking aimlessly around Hogwarts, hoping the excursion could help you process everything that had just happened.

Of course, you had been giving some thought as to how you were going to spend the term break before your sixth year began. Natty and Poppy had also invited you for a sleepover at their houses. But, ultimately, you thought you were going to spend most of your time back at the orphanage, though you absolutely did not look forward to it.

But now, things have changed drastically.

You weren't trying to be ungrateful or petulant but… how many fifteen-year-olds out there got entrusted a house and a certain amount of wealth all of a sudden?

The details of Fig’s home trickled back into your brain as you recalled the few times you had been there. It was a simple two-story house with brick walls, cobblestone roofs, a garden filled with peculiar magical plants, and a chipper house-elf named Hobbs. The insides of the house were filled with books and knick-knacks from Fig and Miriam’s adventure. It was warm there. And quiet, detached from the hustle and bustle of London’s city center.

‘Wouldn't it be so empty if only Hobbs and I lived there? How can I even stay there when Professor Fig is already gone?’ you wondered, uncertain.

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn't realize that one of the armors in the corridor had already broken down into pieces, its parts strewn messily across the floor, no doubt it was because of their usual fight. But this detail slipped your mind and, the next moment, you found yourself falling down to your knees after you tripped over what seemed to be an iron breastplate.

“Ow!”

“...Is that the Hogwarts' Hero I hear stumbling down the corridor?”

Cheeks reddening, you looked up to see none other than Ominis Gaunt standing in the middle of the corridor with his wand stretched forward, glowing red.

“Yup, it's me. And don't call me that,” you sighed before pushing yourself back up and casting Reparo to fix the armor. “Fancy seeing you all by yourself, Ominis, Sebastian's not with you?”

“He’s being held back by Professor Garlick.”

“What, did he make a student faint with a mandrake?” you asked as you inspected the repaired armor, satisfied with your work.

“Almost lost an arm from accidentally dropping his Chinese chomping cabbage.”

You winced. “That… didn't sound good.”

That did not quite sound like Sebastian as well. You may not have known him long enough, yet Sebastian was not exactly someone you'd call clumsy. No, he had always moved with certainty and confidence, with intentions behind each of his actions. Needless to say, he wouldn't have done something as foolish as accidentally dropping a magical cabbage that could tear one's limbs.

You turned to look at Ominis, half-surprised that he was still there.

“How is he doing?”

“He’s… managing, though I can sense that Anne's situation still bothers him greatly,” Ominis quietly answered, carefully picking his words. “But I believe that he has come to terms with it. Slowly making peace with everything.”

“That's good to hear,” you nodded.

Of course, like Ominis, you had been witnessing Sebastian making good progress. He seemed to be fully committed to the promise he made to you in The Undercroft a few days ago, and for that, you couldn't have been more relieved.

“Speaking of Sebastian, there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about,” the blond-haired boy spoke again and it piqued your interest.

“Mm?”

“Not here, let’s go somewhere quieter.”

“...Alright, lead the way.”

You assumed he would lead you to The Undercroft, yet it seemed Ominis had a different plan in mind because the two of you had just made a turn that certainly did not lead to your secret base.

“Where are we heading?”

“The Black Lake,” he answered and your eyebrows shot up. “I’m unsure if this is something Sebastian should hear. Not yet, at least.”

You tilted your head to the side. This was certainly unexpected. After all, a good portion of your fifth year was spent doing unsanctioned and dangerous things with Sebastian, away from Ominis’ disapproving gaze. Now it was you and Ominis who were scheming together while keeping Sebastian out of the loop.

“This… was certainly a surprising turn of events.”

“You’re the only one I can turn to. And as to why, I'm sure you don't need a reminder.”

That shut you up. “Fair enough.”

It didn't take long before you reached the Black Lake. You held back a shiver when a chilly spring wind blew, mussing up the strands of hair that escaped your braid. Still, the sight of a verdant meadow after four months of pure white was very much welcomed. When you squinted, you could see the silhouette of the giant squid that lingered in the murky depth of the lake.

Ominis led you to a quieter, more secluded part of the lake and you followed, sitting next to him on the grass.

“So, what is it?”

“I know I said that Sebastian seemed to be doing alright, but… with the term break approaching, I can't help but worry for him. Anne is keeping her distance, Solomon's gone. Sebastian will be all alone.”

“Ah… that,” you hummed. “I've been wondering about that, too, actually. Of course, I don't know Sebastian as well as you do, but I wondered if he'd be okay going back to an empty home. I figured the grief would be too much.”

He let out a heavy sigh. “I will just say it as it is. Aside from the grief, I worry he would try to do something stupid. Something we've agreed we'd help him put a stop to.”

An uncomfortable sensation pricked your skin, trailing down your spine. The faintest echo of Crucio that Sebastian cast on you back at Salazar’s Scriptorium. It was consensual, yes, you had asked for him to do it, but the pain was unbearable. It was as if you were being burned from the inside. As if a thousand knives pierced your skin over and over again. Your throat constricting on its own and breathing had been impossible.

Still, some days you wondered what was worse, the consensual Unforgivable curse or the anger he lashed out at you whenever he got too frustrated about his quest to find a cure for Anne.

‘Water under the bridge,’ you thought to yourself.

“I suppose you couldn't take him with you?”

“With me,” Ominis repeated slowly. “You’re suggesting that we bring Sebastian to a house where children are not taught but also encouraged to use the Unforgivable curses.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Curses aside, you know how I preferred not to stay in that house. I used to visit Feldcroft in the past, but now…”

There was an awkward silence for a moment as you realized it wasn’t just Sebastian who lost his family and home. Ominis also lost a shelter. You looked up towards the blue sky, wishing you could find someplace for your two friends. Perhaps the three of you could sneak and hide in the Room of Requirements for the entire term break. That wouldn’t be too much of a bad idea, would it? Wild, but… plausible? You certainly wouldn’t have any problems with it.

Absent-mindedly, you put your hand inside the pocket of your cloak. It was at that moment your fingers brushed against an envelope.

Professor Fig’s will.

Suddenly, another idea popped into your head.

“Something happened to me earlier.”

“Yes…?” Ominis arched an eyebrow, unsure of what it had to do with your current predicament.

“Professor Weasley gave me Professor Fig’s will. He had listed me as his beneficiary… which means all of his possessions, including his home, are entrusted to me. I’ve been to the house a few times before and… it was quite spacious. There were spare rooms available.”

Ominis immediately turned to face you. “Are you suggesting that Sebastian could live with you during our term break?”

“I— well…”

Now that you had said it, you realized how ridiculous you may have sounded.

“I know that you tend to come up with bizarre ideas, but would your family even be okay with this? Can’t imagine they’d be pleased if you suddenly came home with a boy.”

‘They probably wouldn’t… if they existed,’ you thought to yourself.

“Um… I sort of don't have one…”

“What do you mean you don't— oh,” Ominis immediately fell silent when he understood what you implied. The blond shifted awkwardly. “I must admit I have heard some rumors regarding your… family, but I didn’t dare to ask I…” he faltered. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. Don’t apologize. Really!”

An awkward silence stretched for a brief moment before he finally let out a sigh. “Well, that’s even more bizarre, then. A girl and a boy living together. Did it ever cross your mind that your idea is rather unconventional, if not, inappropriate?”

You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks. Ominis did not have to make it seem more serious than it really was. The three of you were just friends and nothing more. You highly doubt that Sebastian would do anything weird. Besides, it’s not like any of you had a lot of options.

“I know… it was just—” you took a deep breath. “Look, I just thought we could all stay there. Yes, you included. There's enough room for everyone to have their own privacy and there’s also a house-elf, so it’s not like it’s going to be just us.”

Ominis still looked like he suddenly got his vision and saw that you actually have three heads instead of one.

“I don’t know what to say, thank you for the invitation? But have you considered the fact that there’s a possibility that something unwanted could happen?”

“Sebastian wouldn’t do that! And neither would you!” you replied with wide eyes, perplexed. “And even if any of you somehow did, which I highly doubt, I'm perfectly capable of defending myself.”

You were quite certain that Ominis didn't doubt you. After all, you did have the ability to wield ancient magical power and have successfully thwarted a goblin rebellion.

“Besides,” you took a deep breath. “I really don't know if I'm going to be able to live there with only a house-elf to keep me company.”

He paused. “Why is that?”

A rueful smile bloomed on your lips. “The silence would be too much for me to bear.”

“Ah…”

“A- anyway, you don't have to agree to my idea if you're uncomfortable about it. I was just thinking out loud… we need a place where one or the two of us can keep Sebastian company and you need a place to escape your family. I thought the house could be a good option.”

Ominis finally let out another defeated sigh. “You’re not wrong.”

Biting your lower lip, you inched forward, not wanting to put more stress on him. “I suppose there is a possibility that Sebastian would be completely fine living in Feldcroft alone and things would be the same despite… what had happened. At any rate, we wouldn't know unless we talked to him about it, no?”

“Yes, I suppose you're right,” he muttered. “We should talk to him tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

The Slytherin boy arched an eyebrow. “We're going to Feldcroft with him tomorrow, remember?”

Right. You remembered Sebastian asking you to go with him and Ominis to his cottage in Feldcroft. This would be his second visit after Solomon’s death and Anne’s disappearance. The first happened just moments after he learned of his sister’s disappearance. Suddenly, your chest felt heavy.

“Alright. We'll talk to him tomorrow.”

Ominis nodded. “I have to go back, Sebastian is probably searching for me already. Talk to you soon.”

“Me, too. I promised Natty we’re going to Hogsmeade together. See you, Ominis.”

He stood up and dusted his robe. His expression was unreadable.

“Despite everything that had happened,” he spoke again in a soft voice. “I’m grateful for all the help that you’ve done for Sebastian. I reckon it must’ve been hard for you, too, back then. I’m sorry, I realized there were times when I was being too harsh on you.”

The heaviness in your chest grew and though Ominis couldn’t see you, you still hid your face from him. A small part of you worried he could somehow sense the relief you were trying to suppress. Still, a treacherous part of you continued to wonder if Sebastian would still do what he did if you had made different choices. Had you, despite your best intention, unknowingly and foolishly led him into darkness?

You took a deep breath.

“Thank you, Ominis.”

That night, you dreamt about Isidora’s final repository, tucked deep beneath Hogwarts. Yet instead of locking it away, you absorbed it. Unknown, unlimited power coursing through your veins, taking you to a greater height.

You dreamt that you found Anne and, with that treacherous power, you broke her curse.

Feldcroft was as humble and quiet as the first time you visited it. The evening sun bathed the little hamlet in a warm, golden hue, enhancing the colors of the daffodils that grew all over the grassy field. It seemed to be more alive, with villagers loitering around merchants and children running across the meadows. With the goblin forces gone, peace had returned to the hamlet.

Beside you, Sebastian was staring at the idyllic sight with a hollowness in his eyes. The price of freedom surely had never been so steep. Feldcroft was safe, but Solomon was gone, Anne did not want to speak to him, and some villagers were eyeing him warily. There were rumors that the young Sallow boy had cast one of the Unforgivable curses during the last goblin attack. Opinions were divided, some thinking he should be thoroughly investigated, while others thought “Well, good riddance! He saved his sister!”

“Sebastian…”

“Come on,” the brown-haired boy said. “All this walk is making me tired.”

You glanced at Ominis, who seemed to be holding back as many emotions and thoughts as you did. Sighing, you followed Sebastian as he made his way home.

The Sallow cottage was in a slightly worse state, which wasn’t unreasonable, considering nobody lived there anymore. Sebastian hadn’t said anything about his desire to return, but the three of you came to the house anyway to keep it clean and well-maintained.

Solomon Sallow was laid to rest in a simple graveyard in the back of the cottage. Anne had told everyone in the village that he died peacefully in his sleep. Silence stretched as Sebastian stood before the grave, while you and Ominis stood a few feet behind him, watching. The brown-haired boy was still as a statue and you wondered what went through his mind.

But then he sighed and turned to face you, his face calm and eyes clear without a hint of tears.

“I'm done here. Let's get inside.”

With a flick of his wand, the door to the cottage opened easily. Inside, it was as if time was frozen. There was a glass on the table where Anne used to sit, the bed was unmade, an opened letter sitting on top of a nearby fireplace, and the windows were starting to collect dust.

“Well… let’s get to it, then. Nothing a few Scourgify can’t solve,” Sebastian said, trying to maintain a carefree attitude.

The three of you worked in silence, repeating the spell to clean any dust and dirt you laid your eyes on. You turned your attention towards the bookshelf by the window, noticing more opened letters were scattered on the shelves and the floor around it. You averted your gaze, not wanting to take a single peek at the content. One of them caught your eye anyway because it had your name written on it in handwriting you had grown familiar with.

Unable to resist the urge, you carefully picked it up from the floor. As you suspected, it was Sebastian’s letter to Anne, and he was talking about you.

Dear Anne,

Do you remember the new fifth-year I brought with me during my last visit? I forgot to tell you this, but she’s very strong. She’s capable of magic beyond our comprehension and she agreed to help us find a cure. I couldn’t be more grateful that I met her.

Wait for us, Anne. We will cure you, no matter what.

Sebastian

“You know, reading someone else’s letter is considered a breach of privacy,” Sebastian’s voice almost made you jump. You turned to find him already standing next to you, eyes fixated on the letter in your hand.

“I’m sorry. It had my name on it, I got curious,” you shook your head before tucking the letter back into the first empty envelope you could find and stuck it between the books.

“It’s fine. There wasn’t anything scandalous there anyway, thankfully. It was just me singing your praises,” he replied, a faint hint of playfulness lacing his tone.

You bit your lower lip as you looked up at him, uncertain. You never did manage to use your power on Anne. It wasn’t like you knew how to reverse or break a curse — the Keepers didn’t give you much knowledge beyond how crucial it was to use your power responsibly — but you wished you could’ve at least tried.

“I’ve been thinking about reaching out to the Keepers again, now that they’re all present in The Map Chamber,” you finally confessed, picking your words carefully. “These past few weeks I… I’ve been trying to practice the ancient magic on my own, but it proved to be a bit difficult without a mentor. I just…”

You sighed.

“I still wanted to try, if you’re alright with it. To cure Anne, I mean. We… I… didn’t manage to try it before.”

Sebastian's eyes widened as he stared at you in surprise. “If I’m al— of course, it is alright with me! Goodness, after everything I’ve done you still—” he stopped himself, taking a steadying breath before continuing. “Thank you. I… you don’t know how much this means to me.”

A soft smile curved on your lips. “I’ll start working hard, Sebastian. Of course, I have to remind you that there is no guarantee that it will work. Isidora tried to remove pain and ended up creating a destructive force that she could not control. But I promise I will try. Figure something out. Find a middle ground that Isidora couldn’t.”

“And that is enough for me. Really,” he says, half-laughing, averting his gaze because he just couldn’t look you in the eye. The gratefulness he felt was just too great and raw he feared that you could spot it with just a glance. “Though, I suppose… we can only do that if we know where Anne is, can’t we?”

Your smile faded ever so slightly. “Yes, you’re right…” you trailed off before shaking your head and giving him a bright grin. “I believe she’ll come around. You didn’t lose hope back then, so let’s not lose it now.”

The weight of the unspoken fact laid heavy between the two of you: there was a solid chance that Anne wouldn’t return. Yet you chose to gloss over it for Sebastian’s sake. You also would like to believe that the bond between the twins was stronger than any adversities thrown at them, including their current predicament.

It seemed that Sebastian thought of the same thing because he smiled at you and nodded.

“I won’t.”

It took around three hours to clean the Sallow cottage until it was spick and span. By that time, the sun had set and the three of you decided to make use of the dining room to eat some desserts you had stolen earlier from Hogwarts’ kitchen.

“I find it a sacrilege that you knew how to get into the kitchen and not tell us,” Sebastian said with a mouth full of bread.

“Sebastian, for the sake of decorum, please swallow your food before you speak,” Ominis lamented, his face contorting in disgust.

“With all due respect, you cannot see me, Ominis.”

“But I can hear you, Sebastian, I'm not deaf.”

You found yourself smiling at their bickering. At moments like these, it was so easy to slip back into your normal routine, so easy to believe that everything was alright. No dark arts. No curses. No forbidden artifacts.

“I have to agree with Ominis on this one, Sebastian, it's gross.”

“See? She has spoken. Listen to her.”

The brown-haired boy rolled his eyes. Still, he finally swallowed his bread and you were grateful for that.

“You're saying that as if I never listened to you.”

Ominis let out a sigh that sounded as if he was a 500-year-old vampire who had grown extremely tired and weary of life.

“Cases where you listened to me are, unfortunately, rare.”

“Alright, alright. We can go to the kitchen tomorrow, I'll show you the way,” you interjected, worried that the discussion would lead to sore topics. “The house-elves were very friendly, I'm sure we won't have any trouble getting there.”

Sebastian grinned. “I know I can always count on you.”

Perhaps it was the playful glint in his eyes or the carefree smile on his lips, but his words made you smile. You tried to mask it by eating another mouthful of your cream puff.

“Though I have to say, bit of a shame I knew about Hogwarts' kitchen so late… but there's always next year, I suppose,” he spoke again.

You glanced at Ominis, and, as if sensing your gaze, the blond boy spoke.

“Speaking of Hogwarts, are you planning to stay here for this term break?”

There was a short silence. Sebastian leaned back on his chair and stared at the ceiling.

“I dunno,” he answered. “I suppose I could… but without Anne this house just felt…”

A pause. He shook his head.

“Well, if you're planning to stay here for the entire break like you used to, I guess it wouldn't be so bad,” he finished, nudging Ominis with his knee.

“I can't. Not for the entire period. The last time I did that, my lovely mother and father had been even more unbearable than they used to be,” Ominis said in disdain. “I must spend a few days or weeks at home, unfortunately, to prevent them from going rabid.”

“Darn it. I'm so sorry, that sounds horrible, Ominis,” Sebastian sighed.

“I agree, some people just… shouldn't be allowed to become parents,” you muttered.

“It was nothing I couldn't handle, as unfortunate as it sounds. But if it does get worse, I won't hesitate to make my escape. You’ll probably find me on your doorstep, Sebastian.”

The brown-haired boy let out a hum. “Escape, huh? These days I've been thinking about that, too. Going somewhere far away from Feldcroft, leaving this place for good…” he said with a faraway look in his eyes, imagining his perfect paradise. “But I couldn't abandon this place when I still don't know where Anne is. Feldcroft is… Feldcroft is the last thread that connected me to my sister.”

“Are you going to stay, then?” Ominis quietly asked.

“I dunno. Frankly, I don't like being here without Anne,” he replied before locking eyes with you. He smiled. “What about you, ace? I reckon you'd go somewhere fun after your heroic deeds this year?”

Your heart leaped ever so slightly at the nickname. ‘Ace’, Sebastian often called you, because you always bested him in a duel, because of your terrifying and extraordinary skills. He used it teasingly at first. A way of getting under your skin or initiating a friendly banter. Now, there was a softness to it.

Though, you probably only imagined it.

“Oh, she's definitely going somewhere alright. Somewhere better than ours,” Ominis muttered.

“Somewhere better? What do you mean?”

“It's a bit of a long story. To keep things brief, Professor Fig made me the beneficiary of his will, meaning, all his possessions are now mine,” you explained. “I now have my own house.”

Sebastian's eyebrows shoot up to his forehead, brown eyes widening in surprise. “Beneficiary?” he repeated, utterly bewildered. “Woah, who would've thought? But I suppose it's not too outlandish, you were quite close with him and you saved Hogwarts. Well deserved!”

“It's a bit strange though, isn't it? I thought he would've picked a relative.”

“Maybe he doesn't have one and that's why he chose you. Could be anything, really,” he shrugged. His gaze momentarily shifts from you to Ominis. “Hold on, I didn't expect you'd tell Ominis before me. You wound me, ace.”

“This isn't a competition, Sebastian,” Ominis replied coolly, though you could sense a bit of amusement seeping into his tone.

“You were still caught up in Herbology class yesterday,” you explained with a shake of your head. “Didn't realize you're quite possessive.”

“I mean, I saw you first,” he said with a low chuckle, the simple action successfully made your treacherous heart race. “And I was the one who dragged you into this circle, so… without me, you wouldn't have been friends with Ominis.”

You let out a laugh and you could hear the other Slytherin boy let out a bored sigh. “It doesn't work like that.”

“Ominis is right. Besides, I remember you made him mad at me for a few days because you told me about The Undercroft. So, the way I see it, you sort of ruined Ominis’ first impression of me.”

“It was a betrayal of our pact,” Ominis nodded dramatically.

“The end justifies the means!” Sebastian retorted, raising both of his hands, a cheeky grin curving on his lips. “Anyway, Fig’s will. What are you planning to do with them?”

Holding his gaze, you sat up straighter, somehow feeling nervous about what you were about to say.

“This is just a thought. A random idea that came into my mind,” you started, greatly intimidated by the innocent way he tilted his head. “Fig’s house is rather spacious and… I don’t know if I could live there alone. Well, I suppose I won’t be alone, there’s a house-elf there, too. But I figure it would still be very, very quiet, with Fig already gone and all… I don’t know, the quiet just… unnerves me lately. So I thought… I’d like to invite the two of you to stay there, with me.”

“You’re asking us what?” Sebastian blurted.

Had this been another one of your mindless, silly discussions, you would’ve laughed at his dumbfounded expression. But unfortunately, it wasn’t.

“But we’re…” he took a panicked look at Ominis. “We’re boys!”

You let out a groan. “You’re saying that as if we hadn’t explored Salazar’s Scriptorium and spent who knows how long exploring goblin camps together!”

“That’s different!” he spluttered, absolutely flabbergasted. “This is… this is living together! Do you not have other friends?”

“I do, but they all have a loving and functional family, so I can’t exactly ask them!”

“I—” he was ready to retort, but you knew he knew there was no arguing that fact. Still, he shook his head. “And what about your family, huh?”

This time, Ominis spoke. “She’s an orphan.”

“She’s a— hang on. Again, how could you know this but I don’t?!”

“You never asked!” you quickly replied, almost impatiently. “But that’s beside the point. You asked me what I wanted to do with the house, well, that’s my idea, but it doesn’t mean I’m forcing any of you to do it. It’s just… a wild, random thought.”

Sebastian was still staring at you as if you had just encouraged everyone to learn Avada Kedavra and insisted that it was actually an ethical spell.

“I mean, I think you'd benefit from being a bit more cautious and careful,” he carefully said.

“Sebastian, I have the ability to turn you into a chicken. No offense, you're a great duelist, but I don't think you can harm me even if you wanted to. And I trust you wouldn't.”

“Of course I wouldn't!”

An awkward silence fell. You couldn't help but glare at Ominis for being awfully silent and unhelpful, before realizing he couldn't see you. Mentally cursing yourself, you began to speak.

“Anyway, it was just an idea,” you waved your hand flippantly, now eager to return to Hogwarts.

Yet Sebastian seemed to have a different opinion. “But you said you couldn't stand the silence and you're still grieving over Fig's passing.”

Your eyes met his and, for a moment, you feared he could look into your soul. He couldn't have possibly found a spell that gave him Dementor’s ability, could he?

“Yes,” you admitted anyway.

You and silence never really went hand in hand. The orphanage had been noisy most of the time. Bustling with a cacophony of children's screams, cries, and chatters. Silence used to be a respite you had often chased yet eluded you.

But things had changed. When the noises receded and the room grew quiet, your mind became unbearably loud. There were so many sounds and thoughts echoing in the back of your head. The sound of Avada Kedavra cutting through the air, the deafening crack as the stone ceiling collapsed above you, burying Fig’s body under its colossal size, the roaring of a dragon. Each night a different memory.

Before you, Sebastian shifted on his seat, his eyes carefully searching yours. “Well, it can't be helped, can it, ace? We'll go with you. Though, Ominis would probably tap out every once in a while because he has such a pleasant family.”

“I'll try to make my family visit as brief as possible,” Ominis murmured. “Anywhere is better than home.”

You stilled, not at all expecting them to agree. A part of yourself wanted to laugh at the turn of events. You and Ominis should've been the one giving support to Sebastian, yet the tables turned and now you were the one being cared for. Perhaps Ominis had orchestrated the flow of the conversation to keep Sebastian in the dark. You found yourself not minding it, though.

For now, you let yourself revel in the rare feeling of your friends coming to your rescue.

“Alright. It's a deal. No going back on your promises.”

“Of course,” Ominis replied, his voice soft, a gentle smile curving on his lips.

Sebastian locked eyes with you again and he grinned. “Wouldn't even dream about it.”

Time went by in a terrifying sleep. Somehow, you finished your O.W.L exams and your last day at Hogwarts had arrived. The Gryffindor table erupted in a loud, booming cheer when Phineas Nigellus Black, without masking his disdain, announced that they had won the house cup. You couldn't help but revel in your fellow housemates’ euphoria.

“Imelda Reyes was talking about how Slytherin would win the house cup,” Nellie Oggspire said conspiratorially. “I told her if Gryffindor didn't win, then the system is rigged and Hogwarts’ integrity should be questioned! You have saved this school and the wizarding world! I say that should warrant a permanent house cup victory for Gryffindor until the next seven years!”

It was a wild idea, but you found yourself not minding it. Besides, you agreed with Nellie.

“What's important is that we won,” Natty said, a satisfied smile blooming on her lips as she sat straighter than usual. She started picking up pastries from the table and placed them on your plate. “Now, I believe our hero should have her own feast!”

“Hear, hear!” Garreth whistled.

You let out a hearty laugh, happy at the absurd amount of pastries and desserts filling your plate. However, when your eyes caught the empty seat where Fig usually sat, an emptiness crept its way into your heart. Grief had been woken up from its slumber. You tore your gaze away and, somehow, it landed on the Slytherin table. Meeting with Sebastian's. He gave you a knowing smile and raised his glass. A silent acknowledgment, which you returned.

Still, the emptiness clung to your figure as you dragged your feet back to your room, where your neatly packed trunks had been waiting. For a moment, you stood there, casting your gaze around the room, determined to memorize every detail even though you would return in a few months.

“Hey, don't look too sad.”

You turned around to find Natty leaning against the doorframe, a sympathetic smile curling on her lips.

“We'll all see each other again in a few months.”

A sigh. You let out a low chuckle. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. I’m being sappy, aren’t I?”

Natty’s dark eyes crinkled in delight. “You’re not, this school tends to have that effect on people. And don't worry. I'll make sure to write you lots of letters. That way, you won't feel too lonely.”

The smile on your lips grew.

“Thank you, Natty.”

The journey to Hogsmeade train station was loud, as the students' chatter filled the air like the humming of a thousand bees. You managed to claim an empty thestral carriage for Garreth, Natty, Poppy, and yourself. As other students began to fill the remaining carriages, you spotted Sebastian and Ominis in the crowd. Quickly, you raised your hands, calling out to them.

Soon enough, your carriage was filled with familiar faces. The faces of your first friends in Hogwarts. Some roped you into trouble, some helped you achieve the unimaginable. All of them you cherished.

“Huh, I think this is my first time seeing you joining the train ride to London, Sallow,” Garreth was the first to speak, eyeing the brown-haired boy curiously.

Sebastian's eyes locked with yours for a fleeting second before he cleared his throat. “I'm moving somewhere closer to London this year.”

Garreth hummed in acknowledgment. Silence blanketed the carriage for a moment, only broken by the huffing of the thestral and the sound of the wheel grounding against wet soil.

“I'm sorry about your uncle,” Poppy finally spoke with a gentleness akin to the caution one might show when approaching a wounded puppy. “First Anne and now your uncle… you've been through a lot.”

This time, Sebastian avoided your eyes, but you could somewhat feel the tension in his body. Feldcroft was not at all far from Hogwarts and words traveled far. Condolences had been given, as everyone, just like the villagers in that little hamlet, believed that Solomon Sallow died of natural causes. The gruesome truth was only known by you, Sebastian, Ominis, and Anne, and all of you guarded it close to your chests.

“Thank you, Poppy, I appreciate it,” Sebastian replied with a hollow smile that did not quite reach his eyes, an expression that could be easily mistaken as grief.

“How's Anne? Is she coming with you to London?” Natty asked.

You opened your mouth, wanting to interject, worried that the innocent question would only rub more salt into Sebastian's wound. But to your surprise, the boy was smiling earnestly. His eyes reflected just the right amount of sadness. Enough to make everything believable.

“Anne is in France with one of our great aunts. She moved there after Uncle Solomon passed away. It was a tough decision, but… we agreed it was for the best.”

“I see…” Natty replied, completely none the wiser. “Well, I wish only the best for you, Sebastian. I know how much you care for your sister. I hope that one day, you'll be able to find a cure for her.”

This time, Sebastian faltered. From his side, Ominis inched forward, opening his mouth, no doubt eager to change the topic, worried about how it would affect Sebastian.

Yet before he could say a word, Garreth spoke.

“I believe you will find that cure, Sallow,” he said plainly, simply, as if stating that anyone with a brain can brew an Edurus potion. “What? This world is a big place and magic is a boundless thing. I'm pretty sure it's out there somewhere. If not now, perhaps sometime in the future.”

“I think this is my first time hearing you saying something so wise, Garreth,” Natty said in amazement. “I did not know you had it in you.”

“Rude!” Garreth retorted, feigning a hurt expression. “I'll have you know that this brain of mine contains a multitude of new potion recipes ready to be tested! You think I am incapable of weaving pretty words?”

“It's a bit hard to imagine that when you regularly blow up your cauldron, to be honest,” Poppy said, grimacing.

“And stealing from Professor Sharp's ingredients vault,” Ominis spoke for the first time, half-amused, half-relieved to fuel a new topic that did not concern Sebastian, Solomon, or Anne.

Garreth protested, yet his voice was drowned by Natty and Poppy’s laughter. As your friends recounted more of his shenanigans, you locked eyes with Sebastian once again. His expression was soft, akin to relief. You tilted your head to one side, pink lips curling into a lopsided smile, which widened when he mirrored your actions.

No words were spoken, but you knew he found comfort in Garreth's words, and for that, you couldn't have been more relieved.

It was almost sunset when the train arrived at King’s Cross Station in London. Students flooded out of the train, ready to be reunited with their families, ready to go home. Poppy found her grandmother in the crowd and you could hear her delighted squeal as she wrapped the older woman in a big hug. Garreth went his separate way not long after. You noticed him being welcomed by a group of people, all having almost identical red hair and the same kindhearted look. Must be the Weasleys.

“Well, here we are, London,” from your side, Sebastian hummed. “Where to now?”

“The house is on the outskirts of the city. I think it's best if we take a carriage there. What do you think, Ominis?” you asked, turning to the blond-haired boy who had been rather quiet throughout the entire ride home.

To your surprise, Ominis looked exhausted. You looked down to find him nervously fiddling with his wand.

“My mother’s helpers are here. I can sense them,” he quietly said, dipping his head low. “I suppose this means I have to go see my parents first.”

“Oh…” you stilled, unsure of what to do.

If it were up to you, you'd waste no time whisking him away and maybe transfigure this helper into a chicken. The rest of his family, too. Good riddance. Yet you knew it wasn't what Ominis wanted. You probably couldn't do it either. Plus, you'd rather not get involved with the authorities, lousy as they were.

“We understand, have a safe trip, Ominis,” Sebastian said, patting the boy's back. “Let us know if you need us to kidnap you from that hell hole.”

Ominis tried to smile, but it came out strained.

“Thank you, but I'd rather you not go anywhere near my family. I don't want them to taint any of you,” he turned towards your direction. “Especially you, since we know nothing of your blood status.”

“...I understand. Please, be careful, Ominis.”

He nodded. You couldn't help but find how drastically Ominis changed in a matter of seconds. The sweet, gentle Ominis always seemed to glow when he was in Hogwarts. His smile was relaxed and his voice soft. A serene look on his face whenever he dozed off in class. Yet now, his light had been dimmed out. Eyebrows furrowed, hands couldn't stop picking on his fingernails. He looked terrified.

“I will,” he said anyway. “Be on the lookout. I honestly do not know how long I must stay at that torture house… but I'll try to join you as soon as I can.”

Sebastian patted Ominis' shoulder once again, this time giving it a firm squeeze. “Stay safe, and I mean it, call us if you need some help to escape.”

“I will. Don't worry. I have my ways,” the blond-haired boy said, relenting. He took a deep breath and placed both hands on his trolley. “See you again. And don't do anything weird when I'm gone.”

“We won't. Not too much, at least,” Sebastian replied, amusement lacing his tone.

“I'm going to pretend I didn't hear the last sentence,” Ominis huffed. He stood there for a moment, still facing the two of you. “Well, I better get going.”

“See you, Ominis.”

The Gaunt boy nodded. His expression was grim. But he adjusted his bag handles and pushed his trunk towards one of the exits. True to his words, you could see about three wizards waiting there, all dressed in black. They crowded around Ominis as soon as he was close enough, taking his belongings away from his hands to carry them on their own. No doubt it was how the heir of an important, old-money family should be treated. Yet you couldn't help but think your friend looked like a caged dove. There was a weight on his shoulders that wasn't really there before.

“He'll be alright. We've done this a couple of times before. Don't worry,” Sebastian said, nudging you with his elbow.

“Right,” you sighed and looked around the still-crowded station. “Let's go, then, but make sure nobody sees us. I'd rather them not ask any questions or worse, spread gossip.”

He let out a low chuckle. “Bit too late to consider that detail, don't you think?”

“Oh, shut it.”

Quietly, away from everyone's eyes, you and Sebastian slipped away, but not before casting one last glance at the view behind you. At the train, at Natty, Poppy, and Garreth, laughing as their families welcomed them home, hands laced together. At Ominis’ disappearing figure.

“You coming? I don’t mind leading but I kind of don’t know the way.”

You turned to find Sebastian leaning on his trolley, looking at you with an arched eyebrow, a playful smile tugging on his lips.

“I’m coming, I’m coming. Follow me, country boy.”

“Lead the way, city girl.”

#sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fanfiction #karinawrites

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whizzing-fizzbee · 4 days ago

Text

Death By A Thousand Freckles

Sebastian Sallow x F!OC Rating: Explicit 18+ (smut, profanity); all characters are 18+ Tags: friends to lovers, mutual pining and sexual tension

Summary: Emilia Bell accidentally sees her best friend and teammate, Sebastian Sallow, clad in only a towel after quidditch practice. Now, all she can think about are all those damn freckles.

Notes: This is literally just a handful of drabbles I morphed into one story. Characters are 18-year-old seventh years. Emilia Bell is MC.

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

"If Imelda fell into a pit of dugbogs, I wouldn’t miss her,” Emilia Bell muttered to herself.

The cold rain had chilled her to the bone. Her quidditch robes clung to her skin and her hair was plastered to her face. Thick mud caked her shoes and splattered up her calves until it met her knees. She was the shining example of someone who was sure to catch pneumonia.

It’d been a particularly grueling quidditch practice that evening. The Slytherin versus Gryffindor match was a week away, and would be the last rivalry match of her Hogwarts career. The same could be said for Imelda Reyes, her team captain who was hell-bent on ending her seventh year with the quidditch cup. All their team had to do was beat Gryffindor, and then they’d have a spot in the championship match against Ravenclaw.

Imelda had become more maniacal than ever, scheduling five practices per week in rain or shine. Preventing a goblin rebellion had been more pleasant than this, Emilia decided.

Emilia sat on a bench in the locker room to tend to a particularly nasty scrape she’d received after a collision with one of her fellow Chasers. The impact had stripped her skin raw and she winced as she bandaged it, making a mental note to stop by Professor Sharp’s private potion cupboard before dinner.

The rest of the team trickled in and out of the locker room in a rush to get away from Imelda’s orders for the evening. Emilia took her time, savoring the peaceful silence that accompanied her to the shower without the interruption of her teammates.

The steam was intoxicating as she stepped inside, the hot water pelting her chilled skin until it adjusted to the stark difference in temperature. She closed her eyes and tried to force all thought to melt away, washing it down the drain with the remainder of her day.

She’d stay in there forever if she could, but Ominis Gaunt was counting on her for a study session in the Undercroft after practice.

Still, she leaned against the wall, the cool tile chilling the skin of her back as she willed herself to relax. It’d be a lot easier said than done if it hadn’t been for her idiot of a best friend.

Emilia thought she was going to make it through one quidditch practice without incident, but on the final round of training drills, a spare bludger got loose and she spent the last 15 minutes of practice trying to reign it in. It, of course, had been Sebastian Sallow’s fault. It always was.

And per usual, Emilia took it upon herself to help him. After nearly three years, she still couldn’t help herself, even if it was his fault because he’d been too busy talking about some book he read to properly secure all the equipment.

So she was the one to watch as Sebastian lunged at the bludger, forcing it to the ground until the two of them managed to wrestle it into its crate, leaving Emilia muddy, wet and bruised. It certainly wasn’t the first time Sebastian Sallow’s actions had left her in such a state.

She sighed to herself, scrubbing away the dirt and grime as if it would also rinse her clean of the filthy thoughts that plagued her head. And, like usual, Sebastian was to blame for those too.

Of course, he didn’t know she’d suppressed the urge to tackle him into that mud and straddle him. He didn’t know that the chill of the rain wasn’t the only reason for the shivers that coursed down her back. He didn’t know her quidditch uniform wasn’t the only thing that was soaking wet.

He didn’t know she was hopelessly in love with him. No one did.

So when the sight of Sebastian covered in mud made their teammates flinch in disgust, Emilia leaned in closer. She helped him secure that stupid bludger and smirked. He thought it was because she was teasing him for his incompetence. He had no idea she was eyeing the way his wet uniform adhered to the skin of his toned torso.

She had to exhale slowly, the heat of her body rising at no fault of the hot water and steam. But it was too late. Those shameful thoughts of Sebastian and his tight, drenched clothing were embedded, snaking into the deepest caverns of her brain.

Her hand immediately snapped to her core, two fingers sinking inside. She chewed at her bottom lip as they dipped deeper, pressing into the spongy spot of flesh that made her breath hitch. But it wasn’t quick enough. Her fingers were dissatisfactory compared to the fantasy that clung to her senses.

She wanted Sebastian and all the features only he could provide; that mop of messy hair that she wanted nothing more than to pull; that arrogant smirk that she wanted pressed against her neck; those tiny freckles that she wanted to count, one-by-one, until she’d examined every inch of his skin.

She was too impatient, too desperate and needy to prolong her fantasy. So instead her fingers swiped against her clit, pressing and pulling, begging for release.

Finally, her nerves complied, the familiar swell of tingling cresting within her until it broke, sending her cunt into a sharp shudder that made her whimper in an attempt to be discreet.

When it was over, she rested her head back against the wall, the water washing away her secret little sin, but not the dastardly thoughts of her best friend.

She sighed and finished her shower, the water faucet creaking to a halt before she wrapped a towel around herself. The scent of her vanilla soap lingered through the steam. The locker room was quiet, all of her teammates gone in search of dinner.

She exited the row of girls’ showers to the locker room, where her clothes were stashed away. With no one else around, she could dress comfortably rather than in the cramped confines of the damp showers.

Except she wasn’t alone. She froze at the sight of those familiar shoulders, broad and peppered in freckles that would outshine any constellation in the night skies. The temptation to reach out and touch them was suffocating. Like Emilia, he was wrapped in nothing but a towel, though he bore much more skin than her.

“Sebastian,” she breathed, praying her tone wasn’t betraying her.

He turned and smirked when his gaze fell on her. She stood, shivering in her towel, water still clinging to her skin in droplets with her wet hair slicked back.

“Didn’t realize anyone else was still here,” Sebastian said. She barely heard him. She was too focused on looking anywhere but the waistline where his towel hung tantalizingly low.

“Had to take some extra time in the shower,” she croaked as nonchalantly as her voice would allow. Sebastian raised an eyebrow at her and her cheeks flushed. “Because of all that mud, thanks to you,” she added quickly.

Sebastian laughed through his nose. “Right. Sorry about that.”

“No, you’re not.”

“You’re right, I’m not.” Sebastian frowned as he eyed the bandage on her forearm. “Was that from your collision with Jennings?”

“It’s fine,” Emilia said dismissively. “Just a shallow scrape.”

“He’s an idiot,” Sebastian muttered. He took a step closer to Emilia, reaching for her forearm to examine the bandages she had charmed to repel the shower water. “Keep a close eye on that,” Sebastian murmured. “Don’t want it to get infected.”

Emilia snorted. “Seb, I’ve suffered much, much worse,” she laughed softly. “Remember that Ashwinder in Cragcroftshire?”

“Just making sure,” Sebastian said simply, his hand maintaining its gentle grip on her wrist. His thumb rubbed gentle circles over her forearm as he searched her eyes, as if he was trying to confirm she was genuinely all right. It made Emilia shudder.

“I’m sure I’ll recover from a little collision,” she said as Sebastian released her arm.

“Yes, yes, I know, the hero of Hogwarts,” he sighed, his lips curving in a teasing smirk.

He clearly hadn’t showered yet. There was a swipe of mud across his right cheek and his legs were covered in it. His messy hair was wet from the rain and his cheeks were red from the chilly air.

She had never been more attracted to him.

But as his gaze lingered on her, still clutching her towel for dear life, she wanted nothing more than to sink into the earth. She was too bare, too naked, too vulnerable. She was certain Sebastian didn’t see her in that way, anyway. Nearly three years of closeness, of sharing all their secrets, thoughts and fears, and he had never so much as held her hand.

But he also had told her he needed her – couldn’t live without her, as he so kindly put it one day after they’d had a particularly nasty disagreement. She was his rock, his glue, his beating heart. She had Sebastian Sallow in every way except the one she wanted.

“If you stick around, I’ll walk you back to the castle after I shower,” Sebastian said, his eyes still on her.

Stick around? Merlin. If she stuck around, she was certain she’d end up embarrassing herself. Fainting in a towel in the middle of the quidditch locker room in front of Sebastian would be worse than losing any duel or falling asleep during class.

Still, Emilia’s thoughts inched closer to that fine line, teetering toward those maddening images of all the things she and Sebastian could do while alone in that locker room. Two towels, tossed haphazardly on the floor; skin pressed into the tile walls, the grout lines leaving divots in their flesh; the sounds of their moans echoing off the walls, drowned out by the rain outside.

But she didn’t want to wait for him. She wanted to join him.

He was going to be the death of her. Her heart hammered inside her chest and her palms began to sweat. Her body was betraying her. She needed to get out of that locker room sooner than later.

“I’ve got to get back,” she said as steadily as she could manage. “I’m already late for a study session with Ominis. You know how he is about punctuality.”

Sebastian tutted. “Another time then.”

And then she watched those broad shoulders turn and retreat toward the boys’ showers, each freckle growing smaller and more out of reach.

What she didn’t know was that Sebastian had to commit a similar act of sin in the showers the moment he was out of sight.

---

Emilia spent two days obsessing over what Sebastian had meant.

“Another time then?”

Another time for what? Surely she had simply misconstrued the context of it all, especially considering Sebastian behaved completely normal after that.

She chalked it up to a simple slip of the tongue. She went about her days, teasing and laughing with her best friend like she hadn’t had to touch herself to the thought of him in the shower. It wasn’t the first time she’d fantasized over him and it certainly wouldn’t be the last – not when amortentia was the topic of the day’s Potions class.

Emilia was relieved to be paired with Ominis, but glanced around the classroom nervously. Sebastian had been paired with Imelda.

Emilia smelled leather and cinnamon in her amortentia potion immediately; leather because of Sebastian’s favorite chair in the Slytherin Common Room, where he’d often sit and read before bed; cinnamon for the way he took his tea each morning – with more cinnamon than most people could stand.

“What do you smell?” Ominis asked her as they put the final touches on their potion.

She pursed her lips, unsure how to answer. If she declined, surely someone would deduce that the source of her favorite scent was in the classroom. If she answered honestly, Ominis would surely know who she was referring to.

“I smell… leather and citrus,” she half lied. “And just a touch of something sweet. Pear, I think.”

Ominis appeared deep in thought as he considered her words, and she was grateful he couldn’t see the way her cheeks were flushed.

“What do you smell?” she finally asked.

“Honey and hay,” Ominis answered. Emilia smiled to herself. He had just described Poppy Sweeting.

“Hay, you say,” Emilia mused. “Like someone who might spend quite a bit of time around creatures.”

Ominis scowled at her implications. Emilia had spent months trying to coax him to admit his feelings for her petite Hufflepuff friend. But Ominis remained silent on the matter, though she was certain the pair would be a perfect match.

“Maybe you should spend a little more time hanging around the Beasts classroom,” Emilia suggested with a soft smile. “Since you enjoy the scent of honey and hay so much.”

“Maybe you should keep your mouth shut about this unless you want me to rethink my stance on Unforgivable Curses,” Ominous hummed. Emilia cracked her bubblegum in delight.

“Oi, what if all I smell is the quidditch pitch?” they overheard Imelda ask.

Emilia snorted. “How typical,” she muttered.

“Sallow here won’t tell me what he smells!” Imelda continued. “I reckon it’s something embarrassing like sweaty socks.”

“Why the fuck would I enjoy sweaty socks?” Sebastian retorted. Emilia shot him an amused glance, to which he rolled his eyes. She blew a bubble with her gum and shook her head before returning her attention to her own potion.

But instead of stirring her brew, her focus was whisked away by more provocative daydreams. What did Sebastian smell in his amortentia? Which lucky witch was the object of his desires? Did he fantasize over anyone the way Emilia thought of him? Did he long to count the freckles on someone else’s skin?

Sebastian had engaged in his fair share of after-hours activities with Hogwarts’ female population. But he and Emilia rarely discussed their romances, at least not with much earnesty. Emilia herself had only recently ended things with Amit Thakkar after deciding they were better off as friends. She didn’t dare tell anyone that, even when her affections were supposed to belong to someone else, Sebastian was always her final thought before she fell asleep each night.

She wondered what occurred in Sebastian’s fantasies. Had he ever pictured someone while in the shower, visions of slick skin pressed against skin? Perhaps he was more into public displays, sneaking sinful acts that were hidden in plain view of passerby? Was he more of the dominant type? Surely he was, Emilia decided. Sebastian loved to be in control, a perfect contrast to her desire to be pinned down and put in her place.

A sudden gurgling stole Emilia from her reverie. Her cheeks were hot and she was grateful for the distraction happening on the other side of the classroom.

“Garreth!” Ominis groaned at the familiar sight of Garreth Weasley’s cauldron boiling over. Its contents hissed as they spilled over the brim, splashing over the table and floor.

“Weasley!” Professor Sharp barked. “See me after class, once you’ve cleaned your mess up. Class dismissed.”

Emilia nodded to Ominis and scooped up her books to hurry from the classroom. She didn’t want anyone to see her flushed face or jittery state as she made a beeline to the Slytherin Common Room.

She also didn’t hear Ominis and Sebastian discussing their amortentia potions on the way out.

“What did you smell in yours?” Ominis asked his best friend curiously.

Sebastian’s eyes swept the corridor before he ran a hand through his hair. “Vanilla,” he answered. “Vanilla and bubblegum.”

---

“Ow, Sebastian, you stepped on my foot!” Emilia hissed.

“Whoops, sorry.”

“Sorry? I ought to hex you. You’ve got to be more careful!”

“Yes, mum.”

“Ew, don’t call me that.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Don’t call me that either.”

“Shh! Here they come.”

Emilia and Sebastian were crouched beneath the bleachers of the quidditch pitch, disillusionment charms cast as their eyes peeked through the wooden tiers. Somehow, the pair had drawn the short straw from Imelda and was ordered to spy on the Gryffindor team during practice.

Emilia noted that what they were doing could be considered cheating, to which Sebastian shrugged and Imelda threatened to burn her house down. Not to mention she owed Imelda one for the time her captain covered for her to keep her out of detention. Imelda had only done it so Emilia wouldn’t miss quidditch practice, but Emilia was indebted to her all the same.

“This is ridiculous,” Emilia groaned as she crawled to a spot where she could see the entire pitch while remaining out of view, her disillusionment charm falling. She sat and pulled her knees to her chest as she watched the Gryffindor Chasers toss a quaffle back and forth.

“Could be worse,” Sebastian shrugged as he sat next to her. He fished through his pockets before he brandished a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans. He offered the open container to Emilia, who shook her head and cracked her bubblegum in response.

They watched the Gryffindors start their training drills, the students darting patterns through the air on their broomsticks overhead.

“Think we can beat them?” Sebastian asked.

Emilia tilted her head to look at him pointedly. “I think we can demolish them,” she answered blankly. “They’re bigger than most of us, but we’re faster.”

“They’ll play physical, especially up top,” Sebastian murmured. “We’ll need to keep an eye on you. They’re bound to mark you with double-coverage.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Emilia mused. “I can handle my own.”

“Trust me, I know you can.”

They fell quiet again, making mental notes as they watched Gryffindor’s tactics. Sebastian’s attention span quickly subsided, his gaze falling closer and closer to the ground until he had clearly become lost in thought.

Emilia studied him from the corner of her eye. He was wearing a white button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up and his green tie loosely knotted around his neck. She wanted to grab that tie and pull him in closer. No one would see them. She could crawl into his lap, his hands inching beneath the hem of her skirt over her thighs as she kissed every fucking freckle on his face. As long as they remained quiet, no one would ever know.

She swallowed and forced her gaze to return to the Gryffindors zig-zagging above.

“Think their Beaters will take a more offensive approach?” Emilia wondered. “If they remain back on defense, I doubt their Chasers will be quick enough to dodge all of us.”

Sebastian nodded in agreement. They watched as Garreth Weasley smacked a bludger through a goal hoop.

“Not to mention Weasley has the attention span of a niffler,” he added. Emilia smirked.

“That too,” she agreed.

“What’s this I hear about Weasley asking you to Hogsmeade, by the way?” Sebastian suddenly asked. Emilia’s head snapped to look at him, her eyes narrowing.

“How’d you hear about that?” she demanded.

“Ominis.”

Emilia hissed a sigh. “Traitor,” she muttered.

“What, you didn’t want me to know Weasley asked you out?”

“I couldn’t care less if you or anyone else knows,” Emilia said. “But it really isn’t anyone’s business. Especially because I turned him down anyway.”

“Why’d you say no?”

“Because I didn’t want to go out with him,” Emilia answered simply.

“You still getting over Thakkar?”

Emilia blinked. “What?” she asked, not bothering to mask her dumbfounded expression. “Amit and I broke up weeks ago.”

“Yeah, but… I mean, are you okay about it now? You’ve seemed alright but you aren’t exactly the type to ask for help,” Sebastian said.

“I’m fine, Seb,” Emilia assured. “It was never that serious with Amit to begin with.”

“Why’d you break up?”

Emilia stirred, unsure why Sebastian was suddenly peppering her with questions about her love life. It wasn’t that she had assumed he didn’t care, but romance wasn’t quite his preferred topic of discussion.

“I don’t know,” Emilia sighed. “Amit’s wonderful. Very kind and romantic, but I’m not sure any of that sickly sweet romance is for me.”

Sebastian blinked at her. “What woman doesn’t want a kind and romantic partner?” he asked, thoroughly confused. “I thought that was all you birds wanted.”

Emilia rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so daft. Sure, I like kindness and romance, but I also like a little assertiveness.” The admission made her cheeks grow rosy and she averted her gaze from him.

“Assertiveness?” Sebastian repeated, his box of candy forgotten beside him. Emilia could feel his eyes drilling into her profile, but she determinedly remained positively enthralled by Gryffindor’s training drills.

“Sebastian,” she warned with a huff.

“No, tell me,” Sebastian pushed. “What do you mean by that?”

Emilia finally dropped her gaze to meet his. Sunlight was peeking through the bleachers, the lines of light casting a spotlight on Sebastian’s freckles. Emilia hugged her knees closer to her chest while she stared at those freckles, as if they carried an explanation that wouldn’t leave her embarrassed beyond ruin. She knew Sebastian would never judge her, but she also didn’t want to reveal the nature of her desires.

After all, Sebastian was the one asserting himself in all her fantasies.

“It means exactly as it sounds,” Emilia said flatly. “Think about it. Amit is a wonderful person but he’s not exactly the type to take charge or take control.”

Sebastian leaned back against a wood post, his arms folded across his chest as the realization dawned on him. “So you like to be dominated,” he murmured.

Emilia fidgeted with the bandage on her arm. “Something like that,” she tried to say casually as she avoided her gaze again.

“Guess that shouldn’t surprise me,” Sebastian hummed.

“What? Why?” Emilia asked sharply, her mouth suddenly going dry as her eyes met his again.

Sebastian shrugged as a bludger whizzed nearby. “Because you’re a control freak in every other aspect of your life,” he replied. “You’re a goddamn hero, for Merlin’s sake. You’ve had the world on your shoulders. You dissect every person dumb enough to duel you. You get top marks in every class. Group projects make your hair curl because you’d rather do everything on your own.”

Emilia blinked. She certainly couldn’t deny any of that. Sebastian knew her better than anyone.

“You’re always in control, Em,” Sebastian continued. “So I guess it makes sense you’d prefer to… let go of some of that control in the bedroom.

“Sebastian!” Emilia hissed. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about her sexual preferences with the one person she wanted to indulge those desires.

Sebastian chuckled. “It’s rather cute when you’re flustered,” he noted. “Not so in control now, are you?”

Emilia was certain he could hear her heartbeat slamming in her chest, despite the whoosh of broomsticks and batting of bludgers above them. He was right, though. She’d always been the epitome of composure. He was the only person who managed to make her lose her cool. And Merlin, was she hot.

“My sex life is none of your business,” she finally chided.

“Oh, come on,” Sebastian laughed as he lifted his arms to rest them behind his head, his long legs stretching out. “We need to talk about something interesting while we pretend to give a damn about those Gryffindors.”

“Fine,” Emilia said simply. “What about you? I assume I already know the answer, but enlighten me anyway. Do you prefer to be in control or do you like your women to throw you around for a bit?”

Sebastian smirked, which only made Emilia’s stomach twist into a tighter knot.

“I wouldn’t turn my nose up at either of those scenarios,” he said with an air of smugness. “But if I had to choose, I always prefer to take control.”

Emilia swallowed. She had to be dying from dehydration given how parched she was. It was too bloody hot to be sitting outside, secluded with Sebastian and the topic of sex.

“Just as I figured,” Emilia said, hoping she sounded confident. She wanted so badly to match him, to challenge his arrogance. But she also wanted to be the submissive complement to his dominance. It was a maddening conflict.

“Oh? What makes you take me for the dominant type?”

Emilia snorted. “Oh, come on, Seb,” she said. “Everything about you screams dominant.”

“I like screaming.”

Emilia’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. Was there something in the air that was causing him to speak so flirtatiously? Sure, the pair flirted, teased and joked, but this felt much bolder than anything they’d previously discussed. Sebastian seemed to be pushing her buttons, testing her limits.

“You’re a downright pig,” Emilia said, though her laughing tone and smiling eyes stripped her of all seriousness. Sebastian merely grinned and shrugged a shoulder.

“You’re right, though,” he said. “There’s a lot to be said for the power that comes with taking control.”

“That’s not why you do it, though,” Emilia noted. “At least, it’s not the only reason.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

Emilia rolled her eyes, her sweaty palms tucked beneath her legs as she spoke. “You’re also a very giving person, Seb. You give everything your all. You don’t do anything halfway… Which is why you like to take control. It allows you to ensure your… partner is fully satisfied.”

Sebastian let out a low whistle. “I knew you were perceptive, but now I’m starting to suspect you’re a Legilimens,” he said. “Almost as if you’ve given this quite a bit of thought.”

Oh, if only he knew. The heat in Emilia’s cheeks was surely giving her away.

“You could only be so lucky,” she shot back.

“Apparently,” Sebastian replied, his eyes glinting with amusement. They fell quiet and Emilia fidgeted with her skirt hem. When Sebastian noticed this, he nudged her gently in the side.

“No need to be so bashful about it, darling,” he said. “It’s just me.”

That was the problem. Emilia wasn’t the type to shy away from much of anything. Few things scared her, or even unsettled her. And even though she and Sebastian knew one another deeper than anyone, he was the one person who could unnerve her without even trying.

“You are distracting me from my scouting,” Emilia said, gesturing toward the quidditch pitch. Sebastian snorted.

“Please,” he drawled. “Like you’re worried about Gryffindor. Just flip your hair at Weasley or something and the game’s over.”

“Flip my hair? Sebastian, that’s awfully sexist of you.”

“Well, it’s true! I’d do it myself but I don’t think I’m Weasley’s type. He’s got it bad for you. Just do that thing where you draw your hair back with your hand and chew on your bottom lip. That’s enough to send anyone into a spiral.”

“ What thing?!”

“Nevermind.”

“No, what the hell are you talking about?” Emilia was sitting straight up, her body turned to face Sebastian with full attention.

“Forget I said anything.”

“No, tell me right now.” Emilia shoved a hand against his shoulder for emphasis.

“Hey, no need for physical violence!”

“Tell me!”

Sebastian sighed and tilted his head backward, resting it against the post as he peered upward into the bleachers for a moment.

“You do this thing,” he started carefully. “Where you pull your back into a ponytail and hold it in your hand. And then you chew on your bottom lip. You do it when you’re deep in concentration, like your hair in your face is a distraction or something. It’s just very… very alluring.”

Emilia tensed. “Alluring,” she repeated blankly. She didn’t know Sebastian could ever think of her that way.

Sebastian nodded silently. “Perhaps even a bit provocative.”

Oh, Merlin. They were in for it now. Emilia could feel herself hurtling toward her demise, and Sebastian had been the one to push her from the ledge.

“Provocative,” she whispered.

It was Sebastian’s turn to shift uncomfortably. It was a rare act of vulnerability he couldn’t conceal. He had all but admitted outright to her that he’d envisioned her partaking in racy deeds that surely breached the boundaries of friendship.

But the way the hem of her skirt had snaked its way above her knees had turned his brain to dust. There wasn’t a single coherent thought behind his eyes as she continued to mull his words over.

He prayed she wouldn’t sense his discomfort; the beads of sweat that had settled along his hairline; the clench of his jaw that made his teeth ache; the stiffening inside his trousers that threatened to ruin everything.

It suddenly dawned on them that their faces were much closer than usual. Sebastian could smell the sweetness of her bubblegum. Emilia could see every freckle with clarity. A few more inches and their lips could solve all their problems.

But the shrill whistle that signaled the end of Gryffindor’s practice made them both jump and sent them scrambling to their feet.

“They’re going to come this way,” Emilia hissed as she recast her disillusionment charm. All thoughts of indulging in any fantasy were abandoned as the pair scurried back toward the castle.

---

The evening before the Slytherin vs. Gryffindor match was met with tension. Imelda had been a downright tyrant during practice, screaming until she was hoarse. The team practiced for three hours in the rain, until Madam Kogawa showed up to bark orders at them to return to the castle.

“There won’t be a match tomorrow if you’ve all got pneumonia!” she scolded.

The remainder of the team showered and scampered back to the castle, eager to rest up for the evening. Emilia remained behind again, sitting quietly lost in thought on the locker room bench.

She wanted to claim her thoughts were focused on the next day’s match. She wished she could chalk it all up to nerves and her determination to win. She longed to be that dedicated to her team and sport.

In reality, her attempts at thinking about quidditch vanished the moment she realized she was alone. Those stupid, calamitous fantasies about those freckles surged through her brain again.

She and Sebastian hadn’t spoken in two days, not since the afternoon under the bleachers. Emilia had managed to avoid him at all costs, even slinking in late to their shared classes so he couldn’t sit by her.

It was all painfully immature, but Emilia had no other option. She was terrified by what her conversation with Sebastian meant – or didn’t mean. Was it shameless, silly flirting? It had to be, right? If Sebastian had ever been interested in her romantically, he would have said something or made a move by now, right?

Emilia was too cowardly to find out. She’d long ago come to terms with the conclusion that she and Sebastian would never venture beyond friendship, but it would splinter her heart to ever hear that confirmation out loud.

She’d rather suffer in silence than ever broach the subject that could dissolve her daydreams forever.

“Don’t tell me you got hurt again.”

Emilia’s head snapped up. “Sebastian,” she breathed. He leaned against an archway, still clad in his quidditch robes like her.

“What are you still doing here?” he asked. “You’ve missed dinner.”

“So have you,” Emilia pointed out.

“I was polishing my broomstick in the storage cupboard.” Emilia straightened in her seat, forcing Sebastian to bark a laugh. “Not like that,” he mused. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“You said it, not me,” Emilia mumbled.

Sebastian chuckled and pushed himself off the archway, slowly approaching until he stood in front of her. Her fingers dug into the tops of her knees.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said gently as he peered down at her.

“I’ve been busy.”

“Busy scrambling to get away from me.”

“Nonsense,” Emilia said, praying Sebastian hadn’t noticed the way her voice increased by an octave. “Seb, I’ve had a lot going on.”

“Oh? With Eric Northcott?”

“What?”

“I heard he was trying to get you alone in the Potions storeroom yesterday.”

“And you believed that?” Emilia asked incredulously.

“I believe he was trying to get you alone,” Sebastian answered. “Didn’t say anything about thinking you’d actually join him.”

“Good,” Emilia said with indignation. “Because our little… conversation the other day doesn’t mean I’m rabid with lust for every male to walk the halls of Hogwarts.”

“Oh believe me, I know. We all do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Emilia demanded.

“It means that we’ve all noticed you, but most of us are too terrified of you to do anything about it.”

Emilia narrowed her eyes. “Terrified of me,” she scoffed. “Sebastian, please. I haven’t hexed anyone in the school since last term, and we all know Puffskein Duncan deserved it.”

“Maybe so, but you’re still pretty intimidating,” Sebastian noted.

“How am I possibly intimidating?” Emilia breathed. “Just because I’m powerful with a wand doesn’t mean I’m some bloodthirsty killer.”

“We’re not scared of you because you can kick our arses. We’ve known that for years now,” Sebastian said. “We’re scared of you because you’re too damn beautiful and none of us know how to handle it.”

The air vacated Emilia’s lungs immediately. It made her woozy and she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d slipped into one of her dreams. Perhaps she was sleepwalking, or maybe she’d been the victim of one of Garreth’s concoctions that made the drinker manic. She couldn’t fathom a lucid world where Sebastian Sallow thought she was beautiful. Sure, other boys fancied her dark hair and bright smile, but Sebastian had always appeared immune to her appearance. He never seemed to pay any mind to her softer, feminine side.

“Sebastian, did you take a bludger to the head?” Emilia asked. “You’re talking crazy.”

He let out a pitchy laugh and sat on the bench next to her, close enough so that their thighs touched.

“You can play coy as much as you want,” he said. “Especially if that’s your thing.”

“My thing?”

Sebastian smirked at her. “You said you like it when someone else takes control in these situations. I’m merely listening to what I’ve learned.”

Emilia’s stomach did somersaults. This couldn’t be happening. She sat, her shoulders tense as her nails pressed tiny divots into her legs.

“Sebastian,” she rasped. “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking control,” Sebastian said simply. “I’m tired of overhearing all these stupid little rumors about you and Northcott and Weasley. I’m claiming what’s mine.”

“What’s yours?”

“If you’ll have me.”

There were no words. Things like this didn’t happen to Emilia. Her life’s story was marred by tragedy – death, destruction, the fate of the wizarding world left within her hands. Wild, lustful romance was usually reserved for her imagination, far from reality.

“Sebastian, are you sure? Do you even know what you’re saying? Have you been meddling with dark relics again?”

Sebastian glowered at her and she couldn’t help but smile. “I know exactly what I’m saying,” he said. “It’s the same thing I’ve wanted to say for nearly three years.”

“What?”

“Come on, Emilia,” Sebastian sighed. “I’m trying to be seductive here.”

Emilia snorted. “Sebastian, this is ridiculous.” His face fell, to Emilia’s horror. “Not because I’m not… interested, but because you don’t need to seduce me.”

“I don’t?”

“No, idiot,” Emilia breathed with a laugh. “You could’ve just straight up told me.”

“Oh. Well I wasn’t sure-”

“Well now you are.”

“I am?”

“Sebastian?”

“Yeah?”

“For once in your life, stop talking. Shut the fuck up and kiss me.”

He obliged.

Hands grasped hungrily at robes, pants and other articles of clothing as the pair refused to separate their lips. When they finally parted for a breath of air, Sebastian pulled away slightly to smile.

“Bubblegum,” he murmured.

“Huh?”

“Bubblegum. That’s what I smelled in my amortentia. Bubblegum and some sort of vanilla.”

“Oh,” Emilia smiled. “The vanilla is the soap I use in the shower.”

“Ah.”

“Care to see it?”

Within mere moments, Sebastian had her pinned against the wall of one of the girls’ showers. He kissed her hard, his tongue seeking more bubblegum flavor from hers as he peeled away the final bits of clothing that remained over her hips.

“Unreal,” he breathed as his eyes roamed her naked body. “You are so fucking beautiful.”

He stepped closer to her, his bare cock pressing against the flesh of her stomach as he kissed her again. She arched her back off the wall at the sensation, desperate to find out how hard he could get.

Sebastian reached for the faucet as he kept his lips crushed against hers, the hiss of hot water showering them as their fingers familiarized themselves with the other’s flesh.

Emilia reached for his cock but his hand found hers, curling around her wrist. He swept his arm upward, pinning her arm against the tile above her head.

“Didn’t say you could have the privilege of touching me just yet,” he said in her ear. His voice was a low, husky grumble.

They were only getting started and Emilia was already melting beneath the authority Sebastian was asserting. She was never going to be the same after this.

Sebastian pressed a kiss to her neck, drawing a low moan from her. His mouth moved across the ridge of her collar bone to the top of her breasts.

“I can’t believe anyone was created so perfectly,” he mumbled against the swell of her right breast. He placed another kiss to it before his tongue slipped over her nipple. It made her breath hitch and core quiver.

Sebastian continued his trail of kisses downward as he sank to his own knees in front of her. He planted a kiss just below her belly button, then one on each hip bone before he flashed her a villainous smile.

He placed one more kiss to the skin just above her slit before his tongue sank inward toward her entrance. It made Emilia gasp with fervor. Sebastian’s tongue glided over her clit, pressing into her folds. A low growl rumbled from his throat as he tasted her arousal.

“Sebastian,” she breathed, her eyes falling shut as his tongue flattened and flicked against her clit. Her hips jutted forward and one hand tangled in his hair.

Sebastian’s hands gripped her thighs as he lapped at her, desperate to know how she sounded when she fell apart.

His mouth engulfed her entire entrance, sucking against her flesh as he savored her taste. Emilia whimpered at the heat that coursed through her. It settled in her nerve endings, searing in the form of a familiar ache Emilia never thought Sebastian would ever relieve.

“Sebastian, I-”

Her words died as Sebastian traced spell patterns across her clit, a trick he’d learned from listening to the older boys during his early Hogwarts days. He drove his tongue harder against her until he could feel her thighs start to quake. They jiggled in his hands and he hummed at the sensation.

The vibration made Emilia moan, her climax creeping to the surface. She grinded her hips against him, nudging her clit in quick, jerking motions against his tongue. The curtain of tension inside her fell and the swell of ecstasy started. It erupted through the bundle of nerves and made her toes curl as her back arched off the wall, a moan singing through the shower corridor.

She slumped over when it subsided, a fog clouding her thoughts as she recovered. Sebastian sat back on his heels as she caught her breath.

“My turn,” he said as he stood. He propped himself against the wall with one hand as he leaned in to kiss her. Steam surrounded them as Sebastian’s hands rested on Emilia’s hips.

She melted into his kiss, her head still hazy until Sebastian drew her closer by the waist with a rough pull. He kissed her harder, one hand tangling in her hair until he gave it a sharp tug. Emilia’s head snapped back and he kissed her neck before he guided her away from the wall by the hair.

“I said, my turn,” he said quietly. He pulled his arm downward, forcing Emilia to her knees by her hair. She eyed his erection and reached for it with one hand until Sebastian swatted it away.

“Use your mouth,” he ordered. Emilia obliged.

She took him into her mouth, her hands resting against his thighs as her head bobbed. Sebastian kept one hand fisted in her hair, pulling it away from her face in a ponytail. He smirked as the visions once confined to his daydreams came to life.

“You’re fucking incredible,” he murmured, his eyes holding affection as he admired the way her lips wrapped around his cock.

When his tip hit the back of her throat, he grunted at the plush warmth. Emilia gurgled around him, holding him in her throat as she nodded her head. When she pulled away, her lips dragged over his shaft, tongue flat against the bottom. The cold, pebbled floor left raw and red dimples over her knees.

She hollowed her cheeks as her lips tightened and pulled repeatedly, the sounds of wet lips sucking against flesh resounding over the shower stalls.

Sebastian drove his hips forward, his cock gliding in and out of her mouth as the movements of her head clashed with his thrusts. When his cock began to twitch, Sebastian yanked her makeshift ponytail backward, her lips separating from his cock with a soft pop.

“Stand up,” he ordered as he released her hair.

Emilia rose to her feet and he pulled her into a long kiss. His hands explored her front, cupping her breasts until they drifted over the curve of her torso and squeezed her hips. His erection bobbed against her stomach, the hot water leaving him slick.

Sebastian eyed the bar of soap that sat on the tiny shelf of the shower, its scent so familiar and comforting. He swiped it over Emilia’s breasts, leaving a trail of milky vanilla. The sight of the soap suds cascading over her nipples made Sebastian chew at his lip in desire. He rubbed his soapy hands over her body, taking care to touch every inch of skin he possibly could. He watched with admiration as the shower streamed lines down her body, rinsing her clean.

“How are you so fucking perfect?” he murmured.

Sebastian pinned her against the wall again, one hand snaking between her thighs. His fingers dragged lazy lines over her clit, the moisture of her arousal combining with the shower water.

Emilia was growing impatient. She’d take anything Sebastian was willing to give her, but her focus was on convincing him to fill her with his cock. She whined as he sank a finger inside her, her core swollen from her previous orgasm.

“Sebastian,” she begged. “Please, I need more.”

Sebastian tutted in her ear and curled his finger. “You’re going to have to ask nicer than that, darling.”

“Please,” Emilia rasped. Sebastian’s eyes met hers. They were dark with devilry.

“No,” he said simply. “Not yet.”

Emilia gnawed on her bottom lip to withhold a scream of frustration. Sebastian added a second finger and pumped his hand hard. His fingers forced themselves against her front wall, plunging into her soft sweet spot. The sounds of water and arousal squelched with every motion, drowning out the tiny whimpers escaping Emilia’s throat.

Sebastian attacked her neck with forceful kisses as her breaths grew heavy and quick. They mounted in tandem with the wave inside her, her walls squeezing Sebastian’s fingers in search of release. Emilia’s hips beckoned it from his fingers, which Sebastian pulled upward at a merciless rate. He could feel her clamping tighter and tighter until her head snapped back and she released, her walls fluttering around his fingers as she cried out.

Sebastian smirked at how spent she looked, flushed and sweaty, her hair plastered to her face as the shower rained over her curves. The sight was so sinful, Sebastian’s cock began to throb.

He reached with one hand to shut the water off. The sound of water hitting the rough floor was replaced with the cool, quiet air of the still room. Emilia shivered.

Sebastian wrapped her in his arms, pressing his body against hers for warmth. But just as she started to relax into the heat of his skin, he scooped her up, tossing her over his shoulder as he retreated to the locker room.

“Sebastian!” she laughed, her breasts flattening against his back. “Put me down!” Sebastian smirked at the sight of her ass, hoisted in the air as her legs dangled in front of him.

When they reached the benches at the center of the locker room, Sebastian set Emilia on her feet.

“I’ve had years to think about all the different ways I’d have you,” he murmured in her ear. “All the ways I’d make you moan. All the ways you’d take my cock. All the ways we’d both come. The possibilities are endless. But since you like me to be in control, I’ve decided there’s nothing I’d like more than to watch you fall apart beneath me. I want to take you on your knees.”

Emilia nodded in silent agreement, her eyes begging him to begin. Sebastian nudged her toward the bench, where she sank to her knees. Sebastian stood behind her and swiped at her entrance with one hand, the familiar warmth coating his fingers. His cock was so hard, it was damn near painful.

He lined himself against her entrance and pushed forward, the tip of his cock slipping into her folds until she stretched around him. He watched with heavy eyelids as her cunt swallowed his shaft until he was fully sheathed.

He paused for a moment, swallowing at the searing heat surrounding his cock.

“You’re too fucking tight,” he said through gritted teeth. He had no idea how he was meant to last when she was so taut, so warm beneath him, her skin still glistening and wet. It was far more erotic than anything Sebastian could have imagined. His cock was already twitching.

Emilia’s fingers gripped the side of the bench for stability as Sebastian rocked against her, his cock dipping inward until he pulled it back. Emilia held her breath as her core stretched to accommodate him, the increasing friction making her walls clench.

Sebastian reached for her hair again, tugging backward until Emilia moaned. He watched the ridge of her spine curve as her head snapped backward and grunted at the sight.

He leaned forward to cup her breasts, his hips snapping forward in a harsh thrust. It nearly knocked the wind from Emilia. As Sebastian bent forward to press a kiss to the back of her neck, he murmured, “You’ll tell me if it’s too much?”

“It’s not enough,” Emilia breathed.

The atmosphere shifted like changing winds. Sebastian’s final pillar of hesitation and restraint crumbled like weathered concrete at her words. She was more than he’d even dreamed of and right now, she was his.

Sebastian straightened up, his hands gripping Emilia’s hips as he slammed his cock into her with a resounding smack. The rhythm carried throughout the locker room repeatedly as Sebastian grit his teeth so hard, his jaw ached. He didn’t care. Lightning could strike him down or the ground could collapse and swallow him whole at that moment. He’d die happily now that he knew how it felt to have her.

But if he was going to live, he decided he wasn’t going to do so unless he could have her again and again. He wanted the vision of her falling apart beneath him to be the last thing he saw each night, and he wanted the sound of her moans to fill his dreams until he could wake up and do it all over again.

He’d address that later. For now, he was content to simply have her in that moment, trusting him to take care of her and fulfill her.

The more her arousal coated his cock, the quicker Sebastian thrusted. His cock drove upward into her, driving into her sweet spot. It was rapid and hard, the pressure mounting within Emilia’s core until it felt like her body might ignite from the heat. Each connection of Sebastian’s thighs against Emilia’s ass made her skin ripple, the waves symbolic of the rising tide within her. Finally, the wave broke and she cried his name, her cunt shuddering around his cock.

“Fucking hell,” Sebastian groaned at the new sensation of her climax flooding around him. The sight of her spent body, now slack with satisfaction, was too much for him.

He pumped hard into her twice more before he let out a shout and his cock jerked and burst inside her. Emilia moaned at the warmth that coated her swollen core until Sebastian slumped over her back, panting breathlessly above her ear.

He didn’t want to separate from her. The warmth of her soft body felt like home to him. But as her arms shook from supporting her weight and the force of his thrusts, Sebastian pulled himself off of her, one arm tucked around her waist to pull her upright with him.

“All right?” he murmured softly in her ear. She nodded silently as she turned to face him, her hair wild and her eyelids heavy. Sebastian couldn’t help but smile at her sinful and disheveled appearance. “Come here,” he said as he pulled her into his arms. “Come sit.”

He guided her onto the bench where they sat, side by side. Sebastian draped an arm around Emilia, who cuddled up against him. Their bodies, still damp from the shower, seeped water onto the bench as they sat quietly.

Sebastian watched Emilia’s eyes fall shut as she rested against him. He pressed a kiss to her temple, his fingers tracing gentle patterns over her arms as he held her. When she opened her eyes again, she smiled softly, her eyes studying his freckles. She couldn’t believe she was able to study them so close, each speckle marking something unique and special.

“Imelda’s going to kill us if she finds out this happened,” Emilia mumbled.

Sebastian breathed a gentle laugh. “If we beat Gryffindor, Imelda will let us do whatever the hell we want,” he said. “She’d probably encourage this.”

“Perhaps we’ll have to do this on the desk in the captain’s office next time,” Emilia suggested.

Sebastian quirked an eyebrow at her. “Next time, huh?”

Emilia flushed. “Perhaps, if you want,” she said slowly. Was she naive for assuming this was meant to happen more than once? It wasn’t like she and Sebastian had spent any time discussing their intentions.

Sebastian laughed and gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “You’re mental if you think I’m letting you do this with anyone else, ever again,” he said.

When they finally gathered themselves up off the bench, they collected their clothes in silence. Sebastian kept his eyes on her the entire time, admiring her curves and their graceful movements once more before they became concealed by her uniform.

The only time he turned his back was to search for his belt. As he did so, Emilia memorized every freckle scattered across his back.

---

Perhaps the Slytherins slightly underestimated their Gryffindor rivals. Slytherin managed to nab a narrow victory over the lions, but not without a grueling fight.

The team gathered in a heap at the center of the quidditch pitch in celebration, the screams and cheers from their housemates ringing throughout the stadium. Sebastian, who was at the bottom of the pile, didn’t realize who was on top of him until he was met with the familiar scent of vanilla and bubblegum.

“Ow, Imelda!” Emilia squawked, well aware that she was facedown on top of Sebastian, who was on his back. “That was my head! Everyone get off, I’m getting crushed!”

“You’re getting crushed?” Sebastian exclaimed from beneath her. “What about me?”

“Sebastian, stop moving,” Emilia ordered. “Sebastian, that was my chest!”

“Oops, my mistake. Didn’t realize.”

“Liar.”

The bodies above them shifted until Sebastian and Emilia were the only ones left. The roar of activity around them faded to a background hum as Emilia remained sprawled on top of him, her face inches above his.

“We fucking won,” Sebastian murmured, dropping his voice so that only she could hear.

“Told you we would.”

“Told you Weasley would get distracted by you.”

He reached up and gently tugged her ponytail before she pressed a kiss to his freckled cheek.

#sebastian sallow x oc #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fanfiction #hl fanfic #hl #whizzing fizzbee fanfic

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thevanillerose · 4 months ago

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REGAL | CIEL x SHY!READER | BLACK BUTLER

~ WRITING COMMISSIONS ~ ~ PATREON ~ ~ KO-FI ~ ~ NOVELS ~

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own anything except my own writing. All properties belong to their respective creators.

“I'm nervous...” “Don't be.”

Sebastian smiled at you charmingly, hoping to calm your nerves even by a little. The two of you were standing outside the door that led into Ciel's quarters. This infamous boy, the 'Queen's Watchdog' as they called him.

Believe it or not, you were a marriage candidate for him. It was crazy to even consider, but there was a chance that he would say 'yes' to you, and just like that you'd be married to such an iconic person.

On the flipside, there was also the chance that he might say 'no'. That was always a possibility, unfortunately, and not one that you especially looked forward to.

Nobody wanted to be rejected, did they?

“Any last minute advice?” you looked up at the tall, black haired butler. He simply continued smiling down at you. “Just don't act too rashly, that is what I would advise.”

Don't act too rashly. Okay...that should be simple enough, right?

Gulping, you readied yourself just as he pushed the door open and let you go inside. You truly had no idea what you were expecting, as he closed the door again and left you standing there in the glass walled conservatory.

The place where you had been tasked with meeting the young master Phantomhive was a pleasant one. Delicate rays of sunlight shone in between pastel rose petals, which surrounded a seating area of wooden furniture painted in flawless white. Upon the table there was a rack with an array of pastries, and two cups sat ready and waiting by the teapot.

Upon the bench, there he sat.

Ciel wasn't particularly tall, but you were instantly intimidated. Uneasily, you tried to approach with grace nonetheless, and caught his attention as soon as you were close enough to the side of the bench. Ciel slowly turned his head, and simply looked at you.

“...” For a brief moment, his eyes almost seemed to widen, and your hopes raised. Yet just as quickly he was wearing that placid mask again, one which didn't tell you even a little of what he was truly feeling. It felt so tense, knowing that you were being silently judged by him, worrying about what you should do or say.

“...Aren't you going to sit down?” Ciel suddenly prompted, and gestured to the bench opposite from him. In an instant you were flustered, hurrying to take the spot. “Ah yes! Of course, I apologize...I'm already wasting your time...” He quirked a brow. First impressions... ...You were very pretty. That much could certainly be said. You also seemed to be very shy though, to the point where it appeared to be hindering you somewhat, making you excessively anxious when you really didn't need to be.

As you sat yourself down, Ciel clasped his hands calmly in his lap and observed you thoughtfully. “I'll admit that I did not expect you to be so...meekly mannered.” “That's my fault, I'm afraid.” you admitted, going a little red in the cheeks as you shifted to get more comfortable. “I...I'm a bit of a shy person, you see...”

“Hmm.” Ciel pondered that. Well, you did come across that way. Was it necessarily a bad thing? That he wasn't sure of. It didn't actually bother him too much.

So many of the potential candidates who had been sent to him had been too loud, too arrogant, or too annoying for his tastes. You were different from the lot of them...and though it made for a slightly awkward scenario, he was actually pretty relieved that you were.

“...[Y/N], that's your name?” he prompted, to which you nodded and looked up into the one azure blue eye that he had to show. The other was shielded by a black patch, partially obscured further by his soft blueish hair. You could certainly see why so many wanted to be his wife. He was like a porcelain doll.

But this only made you worry more about how worthy you actually were. Could you possibly be a good spouse for someone like him? You didn't know that you could...

“Yes...that's my name...” you uttered, and Ciel sighed softly before pouring you some tea. “Well tell me then, [Y/N]. What is it that drew you to me?” Actually, that was something you could answer. “Well it wasn't just recommendations from my family that made me decide I'd try my luck. I...I've heard so much about you, I've become so curious. And in person, you're a little...”

It was just going to all come out now, wasn't it? “...Stunning.”

…

Funny how a single word could claim you that chance.

A few days passed after the meeting before a finely written letter arrived at your parents' mansion, notifying you all of your success as a bridal candidate. Actually realizing that Ciel wanted to be with you...it was a dream come true.

Of course, you were still nervous about it. Yet the more times you met him, and the more pieces that were put into place for your eventual wedding, the more you started to relax and fill that role.

It was on your shoulders to put forth a good image, after all. To represent the Phantomhive name as best as you possibly could. This would mean standing tall and graceful before others, proving that you were a worthy wife. You couldn't allow your inherent nervousness to change that. To put it in jeopardy.

So...you asked him, one day: “Ciel I...I would very much like it if you could teach me...”

“Teach you?” He turned away from the array of blue and violet roses he had been admiring, and faced you fully. “What are you seeking to learn?” You clasped your hands before yourself. Over the past few meetings you'd had together, you'd yearned to ask for some sort of guidance. You would have asked Sebastian but he wasn't your butler, and he only seemed to answer to one...

“...I see. You don't need to say it, I think I already know...” Ciel walked up to you, already smelling like the flowers around this place, “You wish for me to teach you how to be more regal? To be like a true lady of the house?” “Mm.” you nodded, and looked up at him sheepishly. Call it old fashioned, but that was what you wanted. “Alright. Sit down with me.”

He gestured to the very same bench where you had sat together during that first meeting. As you joined him there, Ciel brought over the teapot and fine china cups, one of which he set down before you. He then handed you the teapot.

“Pour me a cup of tea the right way.”

The 'right way'? What 'right way' is there, exactly?

That was the question, wasn't it? Regardless, you obliged of course, nodding and proceeding to gently tilt the teapot. Immediately the lid almost fell off, but Ciel's pale hand quickly shot out and grabbed it before it could drop completely.

“Careful.” “S-sorry!” “Why are you so nervous?” “I-I don't know I just...”

Your heart was pounding after that. You looked up at him, almost a little tearfully. “-I just worry about...humiliating myself, and then it ends up happening.” “Perhaps if you stopped overthinking things so much then it wouldn't?” Ciel suggested, and you nodded. You knew he was right.

“Here, let me demonstrate. You need to hold it by the top too. That way it won't spill out.” he explained, and positioned himself close beside you. As he did so, you only became more red faced. You couldn't help yourself. He only amplified the hindrance that you so typically had to deal with.

“...Like this.” If you hadn't already felt like you were blushing enough, he only worsened things as he laid his hands over yours and guided them gently. It was a simple task, pouring a cup of tea, but in this case you needed to learn to do it properly.

“I think I know how to do it now.” you said, and then Ciel gestured for you to demonstrate. You did so, with poise and grace, and he looked satisfied.

“That's it. You're doing well.” he noted, but you just looked at him with hesitation. “I don't know...I feel like I could do so much better...like I'm not good enough...”

Perhaps it was about time he made it clear to you. Without any reluctance on his own part, Ciel reached up with both hands and softly clasped your face between them. He held you gently, and leaned in closely before he spoke.

“If you weren't good enough, I would never have chosen you.”

Like my writing? I can write for you! Check out my WRITING COMMISSIONS!

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hufflefluff-stuff · 2 years ago

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hi! i was wondering if you could write how HL characters would act when they are jealous

Yes! Also, I'll add how these characters wind up confessing to their crush! 👍

Characters: Sebastian, Garreth, Ominis, Poppy, & Leander

......

Sebastian Sallow

Let's be fr..this guy gets jealous INSANELY easily in canon, even when platonically speaking.

It's hard to pinpoint where he exactly started catching feelings for you, but he certainly fell for you fast after your adventure into the library's restricted section.

Unfortunately, because of your growing reputation as a "hero" around Hogwarts, Hogsmede, and other hamlets...you've have strangers and students alike often come up to you and interrupt your conversations with Sebastian.

They mean well, only showing up to compliment you or thank you for some favor you've done for them.

But still it puts him in an sour mood, especially if he's unable to do anything about it without coming off as a prissy Slytherin.

During classes, he feels 10x worse if he's not partnered with you and instead sees you with classmates he views as "competition"...like Garreth, Leander, or even Amit, scowling at them in envy and unable to focus unless the professor specifically calls him out on it.

The only exception is Ominis, since he's a trusted friend and damn well knew his crush on you (he has certainly used this as blackmail to stop him from doing stupid stuff) but Sebastian will still huff about how "close" you two are growing.

Sometimes his jealousy gets so bad he needs to go blow off some steam in the Undercroft, casting damage spells on whatever poor dummy, pillar, or knight armor happened to be in his way.

It's nothing that Repairo couldn't fix.

While your assistance in his quest to find a cure for Anne was extremely important to him, that's not the only reason he brings you along for the ride.

He genuinely enjoys your company, and it's his chance to actually be alone with you and talk without any rude interruptions.

Well...there's trolls, rankrok's loyalists, spiders, ashwinders, Inferi, etc....but none of them are annoying students who try to hog all your attention just to spite him.

Aside from Ominis, Anne keeps encouraging her twin brother to make some move if he's that jealous (which Sebastian repeatedly denies).

Sooner or later...he may lose that chance, and he fears this. But he never knew when the moment would come..

Then one night, you were both fighting poachers and their leader, an Animagus, insulted him so horribly that it made his confident expression drop for a moment--as did his Protego shield.

You didn't hear what she said exactly, but his devastated face told you enough and you were pissed.

So you rained down a torrent of ancient magic lightning before she can even think of transforming.

Sebastian could only watch as you smite her like some furious god unleashing your wrath on the world, finding you both badass and ethereal.

When it's all over, you rushed to his side and ask if he's okay--but he just kisses you right there and then, silencing you.

He's so sick of waiting.

Garreth Weasley

His jealousy is nowhere near as bad as Sebastian's...but it's still there. Just subtle.

He pouts a lot when somebody steals your attention away, and he tries way too hard to impress you with whatever brilliant potion concept he drafted up (and definitely didn't have approval to brew in class under any circumstances).

Speaking of which, you're his usual partner in potions class, so he'll be highly disappointed if Professor Sharp decides to pair you with somebody else that day.

Garreth feels this sting in his heart if he overhears you praising them for their perfect brew, while he stares into his bubbling cauldron and sulks, wondering what he could've done differently.

He didn't know how you truly felt about him, so he got the genius idea to cook up a love potion the day you had a substitute for class (he sat at the furthest station and had secretly gathered the ingredients beforehand).

Just as you were about to try it for yourself, he accidentally knocked an incompatible ingredient into the pot and caused its contents to explode, staining both of your robes in pink.

While everybody laughed, the sub made the stains vanish with some magic and decided to dismiss class early, making you two stay behind to clean up the mess.

Luckily only house points were deducted due to your actions, so you won't be getting detention for this.

Still...Garreth was quite upset and you could tell.

You reassure him you're not mad in the slightest, and that you knew exactly what he was trying to do (followed by a small wink before continuing your cleanup).

His face turned as red as a maxima potion, and when he returns to the Gryffindor common room for the night, he gets confused stares from his fellow housemates as they wonder what's gotten into him.

But he can't stop thinking about you.

Maybe you ingested droplets of the love potion after it exploded, since you did seem particularly flirtatious with him in that moment and knew his intentions.

Looks like he got his wish after all.

Now to ask you out properly..

Ominis Gaunt

He's not an easily jealous guy. He'll never get angry at other people for simply wanting to spend time with you or if you're partners with them in class.

You've made a name for yourself at Hogwarts, and while he doesn't always agree with the dangerous stuff you get involved with, he only expects people to look up to you and pull your attention away from him.

Though deep down, it kinda hurts...especially since quite a handful of students from other houses perceive him as someone you shouldn't be around (some Gryffindors with "holier than thou" personalities even had the guts to say you're better off without him when he's standing right there).

Being a Gaunt + a Slytherin had that effect, unfortunately...

But he's sick of hearing that all the time.

Anyone else would've snapped at whoever criticized them based on blood status or rudely interrupted a conversation they're clearly having with you.

Yet when he does it..suddenly he's the bad guy?

It never made sense.

So any jealous feelings Ominis has stem from his own insecurities, and they grow even worse the more he realizes he's in love with you..

Like Sebastian, he'd probably storm off to the Undercroft to calm down if he's feeling heavily upset.

Fortunately, you're quick to defend him and decline other people's advances, saying you'd much rather hang out with him.

When you nearly got into a wand duel/fistfight over something insulting they said about him, that's when he realizes you cared about him as more than a friend...

Though he wanted to test the waters, so to speak, before hyping himself up to confess to you.

So throughout the week, Ominis expressed subtle desires to be in closer proximity to you (which you were fine with despite being initially confused at his sudden change in behavior)

These are, but not limited to, linking arms while walking in the hallways, napping beside you while you were reading or petting a random cat, "accidentally" falling asleep on your shoulder in History of Magic, and letting you guide him through assignments in herbology and potions class so he took the correct measurements (his grades improved, which is always a plus).

It takes a little bit of encouragement from Sebastian, but by the week's end, he courts you in one of his favorite spots outside the castle, gathering flowers, candles, and everything.

You truly made him feel loved..and he was going to do his best to reciprocate that.

How he wishes he could see the looks on those Gryffindor preps' faces when they realize the "hero of Hogwarts" is his date.

Poppy Sweeting

Considering how little she spoke to other students, even ones from her own house, this Hufflepuff found it difficult to get close to you at first.

You being hailed as a "hero" made it especially challenging, as you seemed constantly busy and people were bugging you for attention/advice/help....all while Poppy was standing in the background, forcing a smile.

Of course, you always made time to help her rescue beasts. It became your passion, and she was happy about that. Your adventures together allowed you to connect on an emotional level.

The moment she knew she was in love was the night when you both observed a Mooncalf dance, trying to make sense of the pattern those sweet big-eyed creatures left behind.

No matter how many times you've seen them, their dances are spectacular--ever captivating.

But when Poppy asked for your opinion on the pattern she drew out, she stops after seeing your breathtaking smile, eyes practically sparkling in the glow of the moonlight..

And suddenly that's all she could focus on.

Suddenly that was the most beautiful thing in the world.

Since then, her jealousy around other students has increased tenfold...especially when one jerk who disrespected beasts bragged about their poacher parents and invited you to visit their camp.

You've never seen a girl Depulso another student so fast in your life, but Poppy acts like nothing ever happened.

Similar to Sebastian, her jealousy manifests in the form of glares and general scorn towards anyone trying to ask you out on a date (which you, fortunately, decline).

She 100% rambles to the beasts about you.

If Highwing and Lord of the Shore could talk, they'd tell her to just stfu and confess to you already bc the tension is killing them.

It only (finally) happens when you invite her to the Vivarium for the first time, and they both nudge you two together, not backing down until you finally kiss.

If any of yall know that scene in Pokémon Scarlet/Violet where the box legendary pushes Arven towards his friends...that's this exact situation.

Leander Prewett

There's not doubt that this Gryffindor was going to grow jealous of your rising popularity in Summoner's Court and Crossed Wands.

He's a sore loser, while you have generally good sportsmanship..but he secretly appreciates you encouraging him to keep practicing. He only keeps going because of your words alone.

Outside of classes and competitions, he tries to hang out with you but oftentimes your attention goes to other people--whether it's professors keeping you after class to go over extra assignments or a friend sending you an owl with an urgent request.

You don't mean to keep ditching him, but to him it feels like you're always "too busy" for him.

Leander just scowls at the owls while they stare back at him like "hey, don't shoot the messenger".

Yet even when you do manage to spend time together, he only ever asks about your recent escapades....and then refuses to believe them despite you explaining them in great detail.

To this day, he still isn't convinced you possess ancient magic.

But the truth is that he wants to believe you. He admires your bravery and is insanely in love with that aspect of you....though he doesn't know how to express that.

He wishes he can relate and have cool stories to tell, but when people bring up his name they only ever talk about his constant failures.

He doesn't feel any better when others rush to defend your acts of heroism, thinking he's being a jerk.

The truth is you actually loved him and his company despite your frequent banter, but believed him to be way out of your league.

At least until the day Professor Kogawa assigned you to help him after flying class, citing the lack of respect he's been showing to his broom and your good influence on classmates.

He saw this as his chance to impress you...and failed miserably as he was unable to focus and snapped at his broom in frustration, causing it to whack him in the face just as a group of Slytherins passed by.

They laughed and teased him relentlessly, but after scaring them off with a chomping cabbage...you realized Leander had disappeared.

But he didn't go far as you discover him sulking near the lake, hiding himself with the Disillusionment charm (which you cancelled with Revelio).

It's there he finally talks about his true feelings towards you, and you see a more vulnerable side to the typically uptight Gryffindor.

In the end, you decide to give him a chance.

#it's fair to say seb and leander are the most jealous lads ever #hogwarts legacy x reader #hogwarts legacy x mc #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #garreth weasley #garreth weasley x reader #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x reader #poppy sweeting #poppy sweeting x reader #leander prewett #leander prewett x reader #jealousy hcs #headcanons

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shortnspidey · 18 days ago

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CHAPTER ONE: ECHOS OF THE PAST

bucky barnes x fem!stark!reader || WC: 3.7K

A/N: In honor of Sebastian getting his first Golden Globe (which was long overdue), I present to you all the first chapter for this series! Thank you for all the love on this series before it was even published! This first chapter is really angsty, BUT there is certainly more to come! Dividers by @sister-lucifer <3

➩ next chapter

➩ main masterlist

➩ series masterlist

The familiar hum of New York City quickly faded as you stepped into the quiet sanctuary of your apartment. It was a stark contrast to the bustling campus of MIT, a place that had once held so much promise. The weight of the past few months hung heavy on your shoulders as you let out a long, weary sigh. You had returned home, defeated and disillusioned.

The keys in your right hand felt heavy, almost like an invisible weight was pushing you down. You shook your head, trying to clear the fog of disappointment and frustration. The sense of relief from being back home was met with the bitter taste of unmet expectations. You had dreamed of making a mark, of proving to yourself and to everyone else that you belonged at one of the most prestigious institutions in the world.

Instead, you found yourself constantly questioning your place, your purpose, and your abilities. As you finally turned the key and stepped inside, the familiar surroundings offered a small comfort. However, that relief was short lived. What you didn't expect was to see your father, in the flesh, sitting in your living room. His presence felt like an additional weight on your already burdened shoulders, amplifying the emotions swirling inside you.

Choosing to ignore him, you walked past the living room and into your room. You could bet that he would be following close behind you not even a second later. Sure enough, as you settled to unpack the little clothes that lay in your suitcase, you heard his footsteps approaching. "F.R.I.D.A.Y told me you were back in New York," The stern voice of Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist or as you knew him, your father, interrupted behind you.

Letting out a sigh, you could practically feel the disappointment radiating off of him from your doorway. "Which I find very odd since it's nowhere near your winter break." You avoided eye contact as you fiddled with the items on your desk. "Funny enough, I gave a lecture at MIT and to my surprise my daughter was nowhere to be found. Especially since the academic advisor stopped me to inform me you haven't been attending classes for almost a month." God you wished he'd just get right to the point.

"Care to explain?" Not bothering to hide the nonchalance in your voice, you simply shrugged and mumbled, "Dropped out." The tension in the room was palpable, his silence spoke volumes, a mixture of disbelief and frustration hanging in the air. "Dropped out? What do you mean, you dropped out? You were doing so well." You could hear the strain in his voice, the effort it took to keep his emotions in check. “MIT was your dream, not mine.” His eyes widened, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of hurt cross his face.

You almost felt bad. Almost. "But you had everything going for you," He insisted, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at you with what you could only assume was utter disappointment. "The scholarships, internships, the many opportunities they offered… Why would you throw all that away?" You sighed, feeling the weight of his disappointment. "Because it wasn't making me happy," You replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "I finally realized that I was living someone else's dream, not mine."

You had finally admitted it.

As you finally mustered the courage to confront him, a bruise blooming on his right eye suddenly stole your attention. The conversation about MIT, now seemed like the last thing on your mind. After what seemed like an eternity, you tried to gauge his expression, but came up short. "Well in that case," He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're grounded." Clenching your jaw you scoffed in disdain. "What the hell do you mean I'm grounded?" You spat, crossing you arms over your chest. "I don't think I stuttered." Tony rolled his eyes which only fueled your anger.

"I'm not five dad, I'm almost twenty-five, you can't ground me." You growled, digging your freshly manicured nails into your palm in frustration. "As your father, I believe that is one of the many privileges I still hold. You're clearly not thinking straight. You need time to reflect on your choices and figure out what you truly want." He looked at you with a mixture of worry and disappointment, his eyes searching for a way to reach you. "This isn't about punishment, it's about helping you." The more he talked, the angrier you became.

Of course, he was making this about him, as he somehow always seemed to do. Completely disregarding what you wanted, he continued to impose his will. The familiar feeling of being trapped under his expectations washed over you, instantly making your blood boil. "Helping me?" You echoed, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "You do realize that I just confessed that I don't want to go back to MIT, and instead of asking me why, you ground me instead. Real mature." You could feel the tears of frustration welling up, but you refused to let them fall.

You weren't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing that he had affected you. This was your life, your decision, and you were growing tired of being treated like a child. He opened his mouth to respond, but you cut him off, the words spilling out before you could find will to stop them. "You don't get it, do you? It's like you only hear what you want to hear. I’m not some kid who needs to be sheltered from the world. I need you to listen for once!" His expression hardened, and you could see the frustration creeping into his demeanor.

Taking his silence as a sign to continue, you pushed back your nerves and tears, and decided a different approach to somehow get your point across. "Can’t you see that I’m trying to figure things out on my own? Grounding me isn’t going to help me in any way." He sighed, and you could tell he was struggling to find the right words. Tony Stark may be the smartest and most successful man in the world, but he sure as hell didn't know how to express himself. In words, at least. "I just want what’s best for you," His voice softer now, was almost pleading.

It almost made you feel bad for yelling. "Then try trusting me for once," Your voice trembled with a mix of anger and desperation. "I'm tired of people not knowing my name, and only knowing me as 'Tony Stark's daughter'. You have to understand that, dad." The silence hung heavy between you, both of you staring at each other, the weight of unspoken words filling the room. You could feel the tension shifting, and for a brief moment, you wondered if he finally understood. After a pregnant pause, he suddenly found the words, just not the ones you were expecting.

"Well, I'm off, there's cheeseburgers in the kitchen." The casualness in his voice, as if the conversation hadn't happened made your frustration and anger resurface. "Just like that you're leaving," You scoffed in disbelief, but never the less expected it. This was typical of him, avoiding the deeper issues with a quick exit. "You really think cheeseburgers is going to make up for this?" You added, hoping for once in his life he was joking. Oh how wrong you were. “Settle in, watch movies, but do not leave this apartment under any circumstances.” He instructed, his tone firm as he moved toward the door.

"And if I leave?" You challenged, standing your ground as his hand hovered over the front door knob. He paused, his back to you. "Just remember I have eyes everywhere," Without so much as a final glance in your direction, he shut the door behind him. The thud echoed through the apartment, leaving you alone with your thoughts. As if on cue, your phone which laid abandoned in your bedroom went off startling you. Looking at the door one last time, you let out a huff, the frustration and disappointment evident in your breath. It was clear your father wasn't coming back.

With a resigned sigh, you turned and made your way to your bedroom. As soon as you picked up your phone, your heart dropped. Notifications filled the screen, each one more alarming than the last. You had been tagged in numerous social media posts, not to mention the messages from colleagues and acquaintances at MIT. Even Pepper had sent you a text regarding something called the Sokovia Accords. Your fingers trembled as you scrolled through the posts, the images and videos of chaos and destruction filling the screen. Your mind raced, trying to piece together what had happened while you were unaware.

Among the thread of messages, Pepper's stood out the most. "We need to talk. This is serious. Call me as soon as you can," it read. You could almost hear the urgency in her voice, and it made your stomach churn. You quickly dialed her number, your heart pounding in your chest as you waited for her to pick up. The phone rang twice before she answered. "Hey sweetheart, are you okay?" She asked, her voice filled with concern. "I don't know," You admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "What even are the Sokovia Accords?" You heard Pepper sighed on the other end of the line.

"It's a long story, but to put it in the simplest terms, it's a set of legal documents that will regulate the activities of enhanced individuals." You felt a cold chill run down your spine as Pepper explained the implications. The weight of the situation pressed down on you, and you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. "Just be careful, okay?" You nodded even if she couldn't see you. "I will, I love you." As she echoed those words back, you hung up. The world seemed to be against you today, because not even seconds after you set your phone down, there was a knock present at your door.

It made your heart drop, especially since no one knew you were back in New York. Slowly, you reached for the knife hidden by your bedside table, adrenaline coursing through your body as you slowly inched toward the front door. Your heart pounded in your chest as you approached the door. Taking a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. Peering through the peephole, you saw a shadowy figure standing just beyond the threshold, their features obscured by the dim hallway light. With your hand gripping the knife tightly, you cautiously unlocked the door, ready to defend yourself if necessary.

As the door creaked open, the figure stepped forward into the light, revealing a familiar face. "Uncle Clint," You breathed out immediately tackling the man in a hug. He instantly reciprocated, tightening his hold on you. “You ready to get the hell out of here, kid?” You couldn’t contain your smile, immediately nodding. Not needing anything else but your phone and keys, you locked your door following Clint down the steps. "Where are we going?" You asked, your curiosity piqued. "Germany," He replied nonchalantly making you stiffen momentarily.

Turning back as if sensing your unease, he gave you a reassuring smile. "I'm assuming you've heard the news about the Accords." You nodded, climbing into the passenger seat of his van as he unlocked it. "We just have to make a quick pitstop first." As you settled into the seat and the van roared to life, your thoughts instantly started racing. "What's the pitstop for?" You asked, trying to keep your voice steady. Clint glanced over at you, a smirk playing on his lips. "Just picking up some... backup," He said cryptically as the sense of anticipation grew as you wondered what lay ahead.

Arriving in Germany at the Leipzig-Halle Airport, it was safe to say you were a nervous wreck. Especially since the 'backup' Clint had meant was breaking Wanda Maximoff out of the Avengers Compound and picking up someone named Scott Lang. Thankfully, the witch had promised to stay out of your head so she couldn't read your inner turmoil. However, just by your body language, anyone could tell you were not 'okay'. "You okay, kid?" Clint's voice asked softly, his paternal instincts kicking in.

You managed a weak smile. "Yeah, just… thinking." The van's engine hummed softly as it entered the airport car garage, the dim lighting casting long shadows on the concrete walls. Clint raised a brow in your direction as the van entered the airport car garage, his eyes searching yours. "About what?" You hesitated, unsure of how to answer. "Everything," You finally admitted. "The Accords, my dad…" Clint nodded understandingly. "Yeah, it's a lot to take in." He paused, then added, "You don't have to do this, you know. You can still walk away." His words echoed in your head.

He was right, there was nothing stopping you from walking away, especially since your father was in support of the Accords. However, something about how he was willing to start a divide within his closest friends made you angry. Maybe it was because he had failed to hear you out, just as he had failed to hear Steve’s side of the argument. The memory of your father’s dismissive tone and the way he brushed off your concerns played over and over in your mind, fueling your decision. It was safe to say you had already made up your mind.

Turning in your seat, you gave Clint a smirk, a spark of defiance lighting up your eyes. "No chance in hell." His smile widened at your words, and he reached over to squeeze your hand. The van came to a sudden halt, jolting you slightly. Only then did you realize that Steve Rogers was a few feet away, his broad shoulders and familiar stance unmistakable. He had his back turned to you, deep in conversation with two other figures. "Does Steve know I'm here?" You asked, a mix of anticipation and apprehension threading through your voice.

"He does now," Clint shrugged, his tone casual but reassuring. "Here goes nothing" You mumbled to yourself as you unbuckled your seatbelt. "You know I wouldn't have called if I had any other choice," You heard Steve say to Clint as he extended his hand in a firm handshake. His voice was steady, but you could detect the underlying strain. Only then did his blue eyes find yours over Clint's shoulder. They widened slightly, a mix of surprise and relief washing over his features. "Y/N?" Steve breathed out, almost as if trying to decipher if you were real or not.

You lifted your hand in an awkward wave, finding the courage to step forward. Only, the super solider beat you to it. In two strides he was at your side, scooping you up into a much needed hug. His embrace was strong and warm, enveloping you in a sense of security you hadn't felt in a long time. You squeezed him back just as eagerly, hoping that through the hug you could tell him you were on his side. "It's so good to see you," He murmured into your ear, his breath warm against your skin. "I just wish it was under different circumstances." You nodded, pulling back your eyes searching his face for any signs of the unease you knew he must be feeling.

"You know I've always got your back." You smiled, giving him a mock salute which made him laugh. "Nice to see you again, kid." You turned locking eyes with Sam Wilson who was giving you a teasing smile. "Hi Sam." You grinned, eyes landing on the figure standing beside him. Dressed in a red Henley, his posture was rigid, and his expression was guarded. "Y/N, this is Bucky." Steve introduced him, almost as if reading your mind. Bucky's intense gaze met yours, and for a moment, you felt a shiver run down your spine.

His eyes were a stormy blue, filled with a depth of experiences that seemed to weigh heavily on his shoulders. Despite his tough exterior, there was something about him that intrigued you, a vulnerability that was almost palpable. Here it comes. Bucky thought to himself watching as your eyes flickered with recognition. "You're Sergeant James Barnes," You couldn't help but feel a mix of awe and empathy for the man standing before you. Bucky nodded slowly, his expression softening just a fraction. "Just Bucky," He corrected gently, as if trying to distance himself from the past that still clung to him.

You offered a small, understanding smile. "It's an honor to meet you, Bucky. I've heard a lot about you." You could have sworn you saw his lip twitch into a faint smile, almost as if for a brief moment the walls he had built around himself seemed to lower. Steve cleared his throat, breaking the moment. "Thanks for having my back." He nodded towards Wanda who stood behind you with her arms crossed. "It was time to get off my ass." Her expression was one of casual indifference, but her eyes held a spark of determination. "It was time to get off my ass," She shrugged nonchalantly, her tone light but her commitment evident.

The corner of your mouth lifted into a smile at her straightforwardness. "How about our other recruit?" Steve questioned, turning his attention to Clint. His eyes met Steve's with a knowing look, and he gave a slight nod, signaling his readiness. "He's ready to go," He coaxed turning to open the sliding door of the van. "I had to put a little coffee in him, but he should be good." As Scott slowly blinked the sleep from his eyes, Wanda stepped in front of you, her stance protective, almost as if shielding you from his gaze. "What time zone is this?" You heard him huff, his voice gravelly and tinged with sleep as he climbed out of the van with Clint's encouragement.

You watched as his eyes widened when they landed on Steve, almost as if not believing Captain America himself was standing in front of him. His expression shifted from confusion to awe, his mouth slightly agape. "C-Captain America," He breathed out, the words barely more than a whisper. "Mr. Lang." Steve nodded politely, extending his hand out for him to shake. The gesture was calm and composed, a stark contrast to Scott's jittery excitement. "It's an honor," Scott beamed, his face lighting up with a wide grin as he proceeded to shake Steve’s hand longer than was deemed normal.

"Wow, this is awesome," You heard him mumble to himself. The awe in his voice was infectious, and you had to stifle a laugh as Steve and Sam shared a knowing look. "I know you too, you're great," He praised, turning to Wanda with an earnest smile. You saw her eyes light up, a genuine smile spreading across her face as she acknowledged his compliment. "Y/N Stark," His attention now shifted to you. "I'm a huge fan, your Mind-Weaver pitch was compelling. Should help a lot of people too." His words were sincere, and you could see the genuine appreciation in his eyes.

That was the first time you had heard someone acknowledge you as well as your work outside of being Tony Stark's daughter. It was a refreshing change, and you had to admit it felt good. A sense of pride swelled within you, and you couldn't help but smile back at him. Turning back to Steve, Scott nervously fiddled with his hands, his fingers twitching as he tried to gather his thoughts. "Uh, look, I want to say, I know you know a lot of super people, so thanks for thinking of me." He smiled appreciatively. "They tell you what we're up against?" Steve asked, his voice steady and calm.

"Something about some psycho assassins," Scott replied, his tone a mix of curiosity and concern. Steve nodded, his expression grim. "We're outside the law on this one, so if you come with us you're a wanted man," Steve warned, his eyes locking onto Scott's, ensuring he understood the full implications of joining their cause. "Yeah well, what else is new," Scott shrugged. "We should get moving." Bucky suggested, speaking up for the first time in a while. His voice was low but carried a sense of urgency. Clint nodded in agreement, his eyes scanning the room as if already planning their next move.

"Thanks to Y/N's help, we got a chopper lined up," He added, acknowledging the crucial role you played. Suddenly, a buzz emitted from the intercom, sharp and insistent, cutting through the tense atmosphere like a knife. It sounded urgent. "They're evacuating the airport." Bucky translated, his eyes narrowing as he processed the information. "Dad," You breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper. You picked at your nail polish, trying to distract yourself from the anxiety that was building up inside you, avoiding everyone's piercing gaze that seemed to bore into you, seeking answers.

After a moment of heavy silence, Steve seemed to mull over his options, his jaw clenched tightly. The tension in the room was almost palpable, each second stretching into an eternity. Finally, he made his decision. "Suit up," He commanded, his voice firm and resolute. You held your breath, suddenly feeling the realness of the situation wash over you like a cold wave. The gravity of what lay ahead settled in, and the room seemed to shrink as your heart pounded in your chest. This was it. You were officially going to face your dad in what very well might be the endgame.

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matchavellichor · 2 years ago

Note

If you’re still taking requests then I have one 😊

Could you please write a scenario where Sebastian goes home for the Christmas holiday to make amends with Anne and Solomon (before shit happens) and he leaves Ominis and Female MC alone. They finally get to spend time alone together for once and find they have a lot more in common than rheu previously thought (they go on walks, study in the library, hang out in the undercroft) and Ominis who already had a secret little crush on her but always thought that Sebastian kinda had a claim on her, starts falling very hard and he finally decides to do something about it. Maybe they’re hanging out in the undercroft one night and he spontaneously kisses her. I would adore if you could take this into NSFW territory, I’d love the awkward yet sensual first-time sex between them if you could (and as much as I love him, please no Dominis, I want the sweet boy we meet in the game) ♥️

A.N: Thank you for this request! I absolutely adored writing this, so precious 🥹 I hope you enjoy! Also thank you to everyone else who sent a request, I'm trying to get through all of them now that I'm on break and have more time 🫶

You Drew Stars

f!MC x Ominis Gaunt - NSFW/Fluff - 5.6k words

Summary: After Sebastian leaves the castle to spend winter break in Feldcroft, Ominis' sentiments for his friend slowly begin to stretch past the bounds of what's platonically appropriate...

Tags: "Un"requited Love, Pining, Miscommunication, Loss of Virginity, First-Times, Friends to Lovers, Supportive Friend Sebastian Sallow

The library was empty as Ominis meandered his way through towards the back shelves, most of the other students having gone home for winter break. To his satisfaction, the few who had stayed didn’t share any habits of curling up with a book an hour before curfew.

He made his way to the old, royal purple chaise that he usually sat in towards the back corner of the establishment, tucked just behind a shelf on holistic gardening that no one ever frequented. He stilled when he noticed someone already there, the quiet sound of pages turning alerting him of their presence.

“Hey, Ominis,” She glanced up when she heard him approach and eyed the book in his hand curiously. “Some light reading before bed?”

“Oh, it’s you,” He scratched the back of his neck. “I was, but I think I’ll just head back to—”

“Don’t be silly,” She tucked herself towards one side of the lounge and patted the seat directly beside her. “Come on, there’s plenty of room.”

“It’s fine, really, you were here first—”

She sighed. “Will you just sit down?”

He shifted nervously in his place for a moment before finally coming to some decision and making his way towards her to take a seat. The chaise sat two people comfortably, albeit a bit cramped, their arms brushing every time either of them turned a page.

She didn’t seem to mind. Unfortunately, he didn’t possess the same level of indifference, a faint flush of pink creeping up his neck from beneath his white Oxford when she crossed her legs and her thighs brushed against his.

After finishing up her chapter, she reached over to tilt the front cover of his book towards her, her curiosity getting the best of her. She was awfully forward, if not borderline rude. He tried to disguise the fact he liked it.

“Brontë?” Her eyebrows shot to her hairline. “Developed a rebellious streak, have you, Ominis?”

“Something like that,” He mused. “Though, I suppose there are better ways to defy my parents.”

“Oh, certainly. If you spent more time with me you’d have a plethora of creative ideas by now,” She grinned. “Not that sneaking around reading Muggle literature isn’t an admirable offense, of course.”

He breathed out a laugh. “You make an enticing offer, I have to admit.”

“What can I say, I’m enticing.”

Overwhelmingly, he thought.

He accompanied her to her dorm room afterwards and tried to wipe the stupid, dreadful smile on his face the entire walk back to his own.

They fell into a simple sort of routine.

Even though they had already fit into some category of the word friends, it had never been in the same way that she was with Sebastian. The more he got to know her, the more he wondered why he hadn’t done so sooner. She was absolutely brilliant.

He quickly learned she was just as much of a night owl as he was, often walking into the common room to find her already curled up on one of the wingback chairs in front of the fireplace, waiting for him.

She’d lay out a rotating selection of Muggle literature and make him pick one for her to read to him, even if he insisted he could just cast a simple dictation spell or transfigure a copy in braille.

He quickly found his particular favorite was Jane Austen, to which she teased him relentlessly for being a bleeding heart romantic. Gods, she had no idea.

She introduced him to Mary Shelley, which he enjoyed just as much, although he posited he’d grow to appreciate just about anything as long as it was her reading it to him.

It was over steaming cups of earl gray in the common room and midday walks through the snow-crested forest that his inkling of a crush morphed into something else. Something more.

Feelings, he recognized rather ruefully, one late evening after she’d fallen asleep with her head pillowed on his lap in the common room.

Twisty, hot, almost nausea-inducing feelings. Overwhelming and nerve-wracking, but at the same time so unbelievably good, and warm, and sweet, because how could he feel anything else with her except pleasantries?

They were the kind where he found he wanted to do nothing more but stay in the private, simple routine they’d created for themselves, just the two of them. Wanted to keep living in the daydream he’d invented about their relationship, where sometimes she’d hug him goodnight a little too tightly, or sit a little too close, and it’d almost feel like she cared for him the same way he cared for her. Almost.

He ignored the guilty, nagging sensation in his gut about her relationship with Sebastian, and decided he’d let his delusions take him through the remainder of their holiday together.

Stretched out on the plush rug in front of the common room fireplace, he wrapped a hand around her ankle when she went to nudge him with a stockinged foot for the thirtieth time in the last five minutes.

“Quit it,” He didn’t glance up from where his fingers were combing over the braille in his open textbook. “You’re distracting me.”

“You’re not even studying anymore,” She wriggled her foot out of his hold and poked his thigh again in defiance. “You’re a terrible fake-reader, you know. You don’t even make your eyes move across the lines.”

“Hilarious,” He rolled his eyes, finally closing the book on his lap. “And maybe I’ve stopped studying because someone has been prodding me incessantly for the past half-hour.”

“My mental capacity has reached its limit for the night. And I’m starved,” She picked herself up from the floor, rolling her shoulders back in a stretch, before holding a hand out for him to take. “Come on, up. Let’s get something to eat.”

He waved his wand over his wristwatch. “It’s nearly one in the morning, where on earth are we going to get something to eat?”

Her lips curled into a smirk as she helped him to his feet. “I have my ways.”

He sighed a defeated breath as he let her tug him along. “Yes, I’m aware. I’m afraid that’s precisely my concern.”

“Gods, we’re going to be given twin concussions by a kitchen elf any second now. I hear Tilly’s got a particularly strong arm.” The glowing tip of Ominis’ wand cast the dark surroundings of the Hogwarts kitchens in a red hue. “Keep an eye out for any hurtling rolling pins, will you?”

“Will you stop worrying? It’s fine.” She huffed, sticking her head into one of the pantries of the kitchens before popping out a few moments later. “Apple or blueberry?”

“Both?”

She grinned, slipping back inside. “This is why we’re friends.”

“We’re friends? This is news to me.”

She narrowed her eyes at where he was poised at the doorway. “Keep talking like that and we’ll be enemies soon enough.”

“My biggest nightmare,” He teased. “I certainly would not want to get on your bad side.”

He followed her as she slipped past him out of the pantry with two magically-steaming pies in hand, making her way towards the exit of the kitchens.

“You’re certainly a lot smarter than Sebastian, then,” She glanced at him over her shoulder. “You know what’s good for you.”

You’re good for me, he thought.

“Call it self-preservation.”

“How about dinner with a view?” She stopped at the bottom stairwell of the Astronomy tower, only pale moonlight and the dim, orange glow of the scattered wall sconces to illuminate the barren hallways they’d been treading through.

He shrugged. “Doesn’t really make a difference to me, all of my dinners are without a view.”

“Oh, look who’s all clever all of a sudden.” She rolled her eyes.

He grinned. “I’ve always been clever. Do keep up.”

She balanced the pie in her hands in one arm and took his hand with the other, beginning the long, meandering ascent to the upper tower platform.

Her fingers laced so nicely with his, as if they’d been carved to mold perfectly with his own. Smaller than his, but warm, and familiar. He reveled in the privilege of getting to touch her so freely, conscious of the fact this comfortableness would most likely end as soon as Sebastian was back from Feldcroft.

They sat cross-legged with their arms draped over the metal railing, tucking into their pies and trading spoonfuls of rich, syrupy goodness. It wasn’t as cold as a normal December night, but he cast periodic warming charms over them anyways and transfigured his jumper into a blanket that turned out only marginally big enough for the both of them.

They ate in comfortable, companionable silence and all that he could think about is how he wished he could do this always. In the summer, in the spring, in the fall. That this wasn’t something temporary, something that would be robbed from him in a few short weeks.

“Didn’t realize you were such a messy eater, Ominis.” She glanced up at him, an amused smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “Where’s all that pureblood dining etiquette gone to?”

He rolled his eyes and went to feel around for a napkin, but she leaned forward instead. He sucked in a sharp breath as she braced a hand on his thigh and swiped her thumb over the side of his mouth, collecting remnants of blueberry jam, brushing over his bottom lip in a moment that seemed to stretch for an eternity, though in reality was brief and fleeting.

She sat back down in her seat, unphased, and popped the digit in her mouth, bottom teeth scraping over the pad of her thumb, sugar melting on her tongue.

His mouth felt terribly dry.

He swallowed down the sensation of longing with a spoonful of apple filling and flaky, golden crust.

Bellies full with ungodly amounts of pie, they laid beside each other on the too-small blanket, and Ominis tried to ignore the too-loud sound of his blood rushing in his ears, paired with the too-fast beating of his heart in his chest, and attempted to simply relax.

He closed his eyes and focused on something other than the consuming feeling of want prickling over his skin, setting his nerve-endings alight with the desire to touch and hold and caress. She wasn’t his to do any of those things with.

He focused on her soft, steady breathing. The rise and fall of her chest beside his.

“Merlin, it’s beautiful.” She murmured, a dazed quality to her voice.

“I’m sure it is.” He replied just as listless, though undoubtedly for other reasons.

She turned her head to face him. “Want me to describe it to you?”

He turned to face her as well and he was suddenly acutely aware of the feeling of her breath ghosting his cheek. She was so close. His voice was quiet. “Would you?”

She nodded. “Alright, close your eyes.”

He bit back a smile. “You’re such an idiot.”

She grinned. “Shut up and do it.”

He obliged with a disgruntled huff. Pleased, she turned back towards the scenery.

“It’s a full moon tonight, so everything has this almost…silver glow. Like the whole world’s been dipped in platinum.” She began.

He tried to picture it in his head, sheens of pale white cast over rolling hills and thick forest.

“You can see the entire lake from up here, never-ending and inky black, and juuust there, past the border of the forest—” She outstretched a hand. “—is Hogsmeade, with its little orange lights.”

She glanced sideways at him to see his eyes still closed, the softest smile brushing his lips.

She continued, “What’s really pretty though, is the stars. Too many to ever count. Enough to make your head dizzy, really.” She let out a laugh and he decided it was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

“Some are brighter than others, and you can make out little pictures in the night sky. Tonight, there’s Orion looking down on us,” She tilted her head, brows knitting together as she took a moment to study him. “Actually…”

He let out a startled breath when he felt her fingertips make contact with his cheek, dragging over his skin in feather-light touches, tracing the small smattering of beauty marks there.

“You bear a remarking similarity,” She ran her index softly between the points, connecting little invisible lines. “Right here.”

He swallowed hard. “Do I?”

“Mhm,” She hummed. “It’s awfully pretty.”

She hadn’t pulled her hand back. His skin buzzed with the sensation, because her fingertips were still there, on his cheek, touching him with a softness that he had never known before in his life, with a kindness that he was so unaccustomed to.

Gentle, repetitive drags, skin-on-skin, that same prickling sensation of want having grown into something almost painful inside of him. Bubbling and overwhelming, just underneath his flesh, his fingers twitching with the desire to reach out and feel.

He was conscious of how stupid it was, mind-numbingly so, but he couldn’t bear the aching tension in his chest any longer, and he knew of only one way to acquiesce his restless heart.

He cupped her own cheek in his hand, dipped his chin forward, and captured her lips in his.

Her fingers froze against his cheek, and he could feel the slight surprise in her body language, before it quickly morphed into something else, something accepting, something satisfied. As if she’d been longing just as desperately, had been waiting for this the same way he’d been.

Her hand dragged down to thread through the fine, blonde hairs at the nape of his neck, tugging him closer to her, eliciting a sharp intake of air through his nose, settling all kinds of feelings deep behind his navel.

She parted her lips for him and he chased the syrupy taste of sugar on her tongue like he needed it to live, swallowed her quiet, breathy pants like mouthfuls of honey, sticky and saccharine and so overwhelmingly her he could drown in it.

She was so sweet, so soft, and far, far too perfect for his fantasies to have ever possibly done her justice.

When she finally broke away, he could feel her drowsy, sapless smile against his lips. He smiled back, just as giddy, an absolute fool, surely, but in the moment he couldn’t care less. He resisted the urge to dive back in. To run his tongue over her teeth and plead for more, because he knew he would most likely never get enough.

He was content then, just holding her. She tucked herself into his side, pillowed her head on his chest, and let him run his hands up and down her back. Let him bury his nose in the crown of her hair and revel in the feeling of having her there, feeling too much like his.

After that, their routine shifted into something else. Something unspoken, that didn’t really need any labels or clarifications, because it all fell into place like pieces of a puzzle. Normal and simple and easy and natural.

Because, of course he got to kiss her goodnight when he left her at her dorm room every evening. And it was only obvious that they’d lace their fingers together on their Sunday trips to Hogsmeade for a butterbeer, and sit on the same side of the booth instead of opposite each other like before. And why would she not drape her legs over his lap on that purple chaise in the library, or tuck herself into his side on that dusty, old loveseat in the Undercroft?

He wasn’t sure what he’d done to ever get so lucky, but he thanked Fortune herself every night he got to collect her in his arms and press lingering kisses to her forehead. It was an intoxicating feeling to have everything he wanted right there in his hands, soft and pliable and willing, so perfectly receptive to his touch, so eager to reciprocate with the same amount of fevered passion and affection.

Of course, there were levels of uncertainties to their relationship still. Questions he couldn’t bring himself to ask, out of fear of ruining everything. What are we and and for the love of Circe, tell me this means something to you, too poised on the tip of his tongue everytime she wrapped herself around him and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

There were boundaries, admittedly maybe only fictitious ones his own anxious brain fabricated, but ones nonetheless. He’d always ask her first before he kissed her, and she’d always respond with eager nods, blissful smiles, and her fingers curling into the front of his shirt to tug his mouth down to hers.

He adored kissing her. Maybe a bit too much. Alright, maybe alarmingly too much.

He’d spend eternity with his mouth on hers if he could, and it still wouldn’t be enough. He constantly craved the numb, bruised feeling of his lips after a particularly long makeout session. He couldn’t get enough of touching her, of being so intimate with her, of the soft and sweet and spit-sticky brushes of her tongue against his, of that aching, heated swirl he got just behind his navel.

She was bliss personified.

Crossing a leg over the other on that worn, tawny loveseat in the Undercroft, he skimmed through the pages of the paperback in his hand with his wand. A few feet away from him, she was reducing a couple training dummies into splinters of charred wood, spell after spell rolling off her tongue with ease.

His headstrong little witch. He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips at how powerful she was, admiration swelling in his chest.

After getting her fix of dueling for the day and craving attention, she made her way over to him, sitting beside him, although more accurately, practically sitting on top of him. Not that he minded.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she looked up at him expectantly, and because he’d give her absolutely anything her little heart desired, he tucked his book away immediately and turned his focus towards her, pecking a kiss to her cheek. She smiled in satisfaction.

He had the tiniest inkling of a feeling that maybe he was spoiling her rotten. Not that he minded that, either.

“Tired?”

She shook her head. “Just missed you.”

He brushed the back of his knuckles against her cheek and couldn’t help the smile that pulled at his mouth. “Did you now?”

She nodded, staring down at his lips as she leaned in to press her mouth against his. Simple and natural and easy. It was a wonder how normal it seemed, as if it was something they’d always done.

Her tongue brushed against his bottom lip, pleading for entrance, and of course he obliged, because who was he to deny her anything?

He could feel the little exhale of breath against his cheek as his tongue met hers, feel the way she instinctively pressed more against him as if she wanted to mold herself to his very bones.

He loved having her like this.

Eager and passion-filled, her magic thrumming in her veins with a little added intensity, reflected in the way she kissed him, in the way she touched him.

She broke away for air, but he couldn’t help the desire to have more. He trailed wet, open-mouthed kisses over her jaw, down the length of her neck. He’d never kissed her there and he found himself particularly interested in exploring. She positively melted under his ministrations.

“Ominis,” She sighed his name on a breathy pant and the sound coursed straight to his groin, tugging at that aching desire in his gut, that heated, twisty, starved feeling that was always there when he touched her, lingering someone hidden, nursing it into something insatiable.

She reconnected her mouth to his and stoked that flickering flame inside him until it was red-hot and all-consuming.

He tangled his fingers through her hair and explored her mouth with a deliberate slowness. Languid, syrupy drags of his tongue against hers. Hot, needy breaths shared in a space between them that was far too little and far too much at the same time.

A gasp died on his tongue when she shifted in her seat to press herself even more against him, effectively straddling his lap, impatience dripping down her spine. He went rigid.

“Hold on, don’t—” His fingers dug into her waist to still her, but she had already dragged her hips flush against his, right against that aching stiffness in his trousers. His face blanched, mortified. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

She held her bottom lip between her teeth, processing the feeling of him, a very specific part of him, pressed right to the gusset of her knickers, right under her skirt. It was like someone had stricken a match, lit her nerves on fire.

She shook her head, her cheeks hot. “Don’t apologize,” She smoothed her thumb over his cheek, reassuring. “I want you, too. I want this.” She shifted minutely, tentative, right against that throbbing part of him.

His brows knit together, looking almost pained. “Gods, you can’t say things like that.”

“It’s true,” She whispered, shifting against him again, deliciously slow. The slightest roll of her hips. It was enough to ruin him completely. “Please, Ominis.”

He nodded then, forehead pressed against hers, fists white-knuckled in the starched linen of her shirt. He let his hands fall to his sides, onto the tattered pillows of the loveseat and sighed.

“Not here.” He planted a kiss on the corner of her mouth. “You deserve something nicer.”

Ominis’ dorm was certainly nicer.

Clean and tidy to the point of almost being manic, just as she imagined it would be. She glanced over at the surrounding beds and noticed his side strikingly bare in comparison, devoid of the clutter of Quidditch posters, junk and other memorabilia that you would normally expect to find in a teenage boy’s room.

His sheets were crisp and neatly-pressed, and laid back against his pillows, she could pick up the faint smell of vanilla and bergamot and, most strikingly, him.

He hovered over her there, his hands on either side of her head on the pillowcase, a pink flush dusting his cheekbones, uncertain. She found it awfully endearing.

“Have you ever…?”

He shook his head, sheepish. “No.”

She nodded.

A gnawing feeling clawed itself inside his chest, something marred and ugly and possessive, a jealousy he knew he probably had no right to feel. “Have…you?”

She shook her head. “Never.”

His brows furrowed, confusion and surprise and a faint sense of relief etched into his features. “Really? You and Sebastian never…?”

She sputtered. “Me and Sebastian?”

“Er…yes? I assumed you two had already been—”

“Dear gods, no,” She laughed, as if the mere notion were hysterical. She looked at him bewildered. “Where on earth did you ever get that impression?”

“I don’t know, you’re both always spending so much time together.”

“As friends.” She choked. “If I’m being completely honest, I’ve always harbored a bit of a crush on you.”

It was his turn to sputter. “On me?”

She smiled. “Yes, it’s a bit embarrassing, actually. I’m surprised Sebastian’s never told you. He’s tormented me about it since the moment he found out.”

Ominis winced and let his head fall forward, voice muffled in the collar of her shirt. “Gods, I’ve been such an idiot.”

“Well, that’s only natural,” She teased, raking her nails softly through the hair on his nape. “Don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you.”

He picked his head up. “So, I…we could’ve been doing this, so much sooner?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Been wanting to get into my pants for very long, have you, Ominis?”

He groaned. “That’s not what I meant,” She watched as he worried his bottom lip between his teeth, embarrassment tinging his cheeks. “I’ve liked you for quite a while.”

“Have you?” She grinned. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” He murmured. “A bit of pining was good for me. Humbling.”

She tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “Yes, I’m sure you’re not very used to not getting what you want, hm?”

“Mmh,” He hummed, non-committal, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Terribly spoiled, I’m afraid.”

“I won’t hold that against you, either.”

She laced her fingers behind his neck, tugging him forward to bring his lips down to hers again. Ominis could barely contain the euphoric feeling of relief in his chest, of completion, of blissful satisfaction in knowing the witch underneath him was his and only his.

He let his hands wander, explore, caress, tugging her blouse out of the waistband of her skirt and running his hands over the creamy smooth expanse of her stomach. He let his lips roam with just as much fervor, trailing down the length of her neck, scraping biting kisses over her collarbone, over the soft curves of her jaw.

“Take this off me,” She pleaded in between kisses, breathless, and he would be a fool if he didn’t immediately oblige. Slender, deft fingers turned clumsy and unpracticed in the heat of the moment, fumbling over buttons and the zipper of her skirt with a lot more lack of finesse than he was used to doing most things in life. His heart was pounding too loud in his ears for him to care.

If she was anything she was impatient, and he quickly learned this impatience would be the very bane of his existence, as she proceeded to grind her hips up to meet his every time he tried to pause and regain some level of composure.

She seemed to take a form of sick gratification in the way he’d curse under his breath at the feeling of the soaked fabric of her knickers, rubbing back and forth against that stiff, aching part of him, nearly bringing him to completion.

He crawled down her body before she could torture him any longer, hooking his fingers into the hem of her knickers and tugging it down to pool at her ankles. He left a trail of wet, open-mouth kisses in his descent, dragging his tongue down the line of her sternum, slow and deliberate.

She tensed. “You don’t have to—”

“Please,” He nosed at the soft curve of her stomach, his breath warm against her skin, eyes half-lidded behind blonde eyelashes. “I want to. Please let me.”

Her voice was quiet, anticipated. “Okay.”

It was all he needed to kiss her there, lips pressed to her dripping core, sucking just slightly, tentatively, just enough to make her gasp. His tongue was velvety smooth, purposefully slow, as if savoring it, savoring her.

“Tastes good,” He murmured against her cunt in a hum, lips sticky and glistening, voice hoarse and gravely with want. “Tastes s’good. Mmh.”

She couldn’t stifle her moans as he lapped at her firmer then, more focused, dragged the tip of his tongue and swirled it around that sensitive little bundle of nerves he had already deduced made her hips writhe and her hands tangle in his hair, pulling, pleading.

He didn’t know exactly what he was doing, but Ominis prided himself on being a very intuitive learner — and there was no better lesson than her nails raking over his scalp and her mewls muffled against the back of her hand every time he evidently did something right with his tongue. In this more than anything, he was determined to get all O’s.

“Oh, gods, Ominis,” She breathed out, and that was all it took for him to break, for him to push two fingers inside her cunt, wrap his lips around her clit, and suck. Hard, until her toes curled at either side of his hips on the bedding, and her head was thrown back onto the pillows, and she was repeating please, please, please like a prayer — as if she’d ever have to beg him for anything.

He pulled her over the edge with a groan against her cunt, fingers pressing into that little spot on her walls that made her vision white over with stars, melting her muscles into a puddle of ecstasy. Coaxed her through it, lapping at the wetness until she was reduced to shudders and breathy, shaky pants.

“You’re so beautiful,” He climbed over her, chest heaving, pressing kisses to her cheeks. He rambled praises, utterly sapless, euphoric, and if she didn’t know any better she’d think he was coming down from the high of his own orgasm with how giddy he sounded. “Oh my gods, you’re so unbelievably perfect. Sounded so good — tasted so good, fuck. You’re just—”

She kissed him then, not minding that she could taste herself on his tongue. Slow and sweet, her head dizzy with endorphins. He liked her like this.

Reaching down between them, she ran her hand down the placket of his briefs, palmed the evidence of his arousal, reveled in the way his lips faltered against hers. She dipped her fingers past the elastic of his waistband, and the whimper he let out when she finally wrapped her hand around him was nothing short of depraved.

“Want to be inside of you,” He pleaded, his hips rutting of their own accord against her palm, warm and slick with desire, a sticky bead of pre-cum pooling at the tip. He felt so thick in her hand. “Please, want— want it so bad.”

He couldn’t bear the restriction any longer, tugging his shorts down his thighs, exposing alabaster skin and flushed pink and so much of him she couldn’t pull her eyes away.

He notched himself at her entrance, lips hovering over hers, asking for permission without words, and all she could do was fervently nod to keep herself from begging.

He laced his fingers with hers as he slowly pushed in, gasps shared between their lips, foreheads pressed together. She wrapped her legs around his waist, holding him closer, urging him for more.

His voice was wrecked when he spoke. “Is this — am I hurting you? Is this alright?”

She shook her head. “You’re perfect —you feel so perfect.”

He groaned, surging forward to capture her lips in his, pouring every ounce of devotion and adoration into the way his tongue brushed against hers, as he slowly rocked his hips, in and out, cautious, shallow thrusts.

“Please, more,” She whispered, quiet, needy, and he couldn’t help but oblige. He bottomed out inside of her, his head falling to her shoulder, and eased his hips back to meet hers with a sharp thrust.

She was overwhelmed by the novel and absolutely foreign feeling of being so full. That dull sting where he was stretching her out around him, that pleasurable ache where he was pressing up into her walls — it was all revoltingly delicious. She never wanted it to stop.

“Christ, you’re — fuck,” Her fingers wrapped around his bicep for support, nails digging little crescent-shaped marks into his skin. “You’re so deep—oh my gods, please move, please, please move,”

He was half-convinced he’d cut out his own beating heart in that moment and present it to her if she asked. He braced himself with his fingers splayed warm and broad on her hip, holding maybe a bit too tightly, and fucked into her with steady, deep thrusts, her legs wrapped around his waist.

“Yes, yes, yes,” She gasped, his cock pressing deep into that sensitive spot inside of her. She could feel that winding knot behind her navel being pulled taut, being stretched tighter and tighter until she felt like she might break. “Like that, just like that — fuck, please don’t stop, please don’t stop,”

Ominis had by no means a dirty mouth, was never, ever crass by an definition of the word, but hearing her pleading in his ear, feeling her squeeze so tightly around him, slick and warm and utterly divine — he couldn’t stop the endless litany spilling from his mouth, delirious from how good she felt as he thrust into her thoroughly, his self-restraint slipping out of him like grains of sand through open fingers.

“You’re so perfect. My angel, oh my gods, all mine. Mine, mine, mine. Gorgeous, so gorgeous, you’re so tight, so tight around me. Fuck, I can’t stop, I can’t — I need —I need you, I love this, I love this so much, fuck, fuck, fuck, I love this, I love—”

His words died on a strangled moan as he finished inside of her, pumping into her until he pulled her over the edge along with him, electrifying her nerve-endings into bliss. He pressed his lips to hers like he needed her to breathe, like the only oxygen he desired was the ones she would give him from her very own lungs.

She spoke first, dazed. “That was—”

He let out a laugh, soft and pleasure-rough, the slightest bit drowsy. “Amazing. Brilliant. You’re absolutely brilliant.”

She returned his gleaming smile with her own, teasing.

“You’ve only just noticed?”

It took one look. The raucous bustle of other students still disembarking around him, yet his attention was trained on his two friends smiling and waiting up for him.

His eyes darted between the two, briefly combing over the faint bites of purple on her neck that was peeking out just slightly from beneath the green and silver of her scarf, then finally dipped to where their hands were surreptitiously clasped behind layers of cloaks, and he immediately knew.

Sebastian dropped his suitcase on the weathered boards of the dock with a thunk and ran up to clap his hands on his friends’ shoulders with a sly smile and a satisfied glint in his eyes.

“Fucking took you two long enough.”

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