#Better respect her Merlin | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

slytherizz · 6 months

Text

Bludgered - Sebastian Sallow x Female!MC/Reader

Summary: Sebastian never really knew what his friend saw in Isaac Cooper but he never questioned it - he made his friend happy. That is until a Quidditch match goes quickly awry and he realises his feelings for her may go far deeper than simple friendship.

Prompt from @monismateos Quidditch Seb x Slytherin Seeker F!MC. Thank you for your patience with this one lovely!

Word Count: 8.3k

Warnings: 18+, aged-up characters, 7th Year, explicit sexual content, smut, mild violence, love confessions, semi-public sex, first time

You can find all the tags on Ao3

Condensation fogging the inside of Sebastian’s goggles made it almost impossible to see his frozen fingers clasped around the handle of his broom; let alone the Quidditch match itself. His hair was slicked down his forehead and he could already feel a splinter working its way under the skin of his palm.

He’d have to ask her to help him squeeze that out later.

Rain lashed in oppressive sheets as Sebastian circled the pitch diligently. He rolled his shoulder as much to keep the blood circling as it was to keep pace with the veering gusts that would knock a smaller man from his broom.

Sebastian hadn’t even wanted to try out for the blasted Quidditch team he grumbled inwardly as he swerved out of the line of the chasers keeping an eye on the skies to ensure their path was free of a hurtling bludger.

He’d only intended to watch and support his friend try out for the Slytherin Seeker position. Reyes had taken one look at him stuffing himself into the narrow stalls beside Ominis and declared he had a ‘beaters build’. Before he could protest she’d manhandled him onto a broom, forced a bat in his hand and next thing he knew he was being dragged out at the crack of dawn every morning in the baltic Scottish winter.

Anne had always been the Quidditch player not him – slight and nimble she’d taken great pleasure in outpacing her brother in front of Madam Kagawa.

Merlin, he missed the library.

He could be warm and dry watching the game from a respectable distance inside, book in hand. The cold stiffness in his bones seemed to creak in mourning because at that moment they felt like he’d never be dry again.

But he hadn’t wanted to disappoint her.

She’d looked so pleased when Reyes had offered them both a spot on the team. She’d flung her arms around his neck crowing with delight while Sebastian’s stomach had dropped like a stone. But with how her wide eyes had shone at him, small hands squeezing into his biceps, smile so wide and crooked like a crack of lightning; excitedly waiting for him to return her jubilation he hadn’t the heart to tell her that the absolute last thing he wanted was to be on the Quidditch team.

He'd never been particularly good at saying no to her.

So with a coil of despair tightening in Sebastian’s stomach, he muttered a silent goodbye to his books and his bed and returned her smile praying he didn’t look like a man walking to the gallows.

With how often Anne had badgered him to help her practice during the holidays when she was a Chaser; Sebastian consoled himself with the knowledge that he was a fair flyer. Better than a lot of the Gryffindor team evidently with how their Keeper practically wept every time he saw Rayes’ raven hair streaking towards his goalposts and as a Beater he could at least help keep an eye on their troublesome Seeker.

She was scouting high above him, robes burdened and sopping with water – it was a marvel the weight of them hadn’t made her sluggish. In fact, she barely seemed to notice the cold or the rain at all. Just as alert as she was at the beginning of the match. Floating ominously overhead she kept her silent vigil; like a hawk waiting for a rustle of prey in a dense forest. As impressive as it may be, Sebastian’s constitution was not as robust, and he just hoped she would catch the bloody snitch soon so he could pack it in.

“That’s Reyes with another 10 Points to Slytherin – Puddlemere United will have their hands full with that one next year!” Lucan’s crackly amplified voice shouted over the howling wind.

The thumping of feet heavy enough to break the rickety rafters and a roar of approval from the emerald-cloaked stands answered the chorus of groans from the scarlet that surrounded the pitch.

Tapping his bat against his boot in an inaudible clap Sebastian looked smugly up towards the Gryffindor stands as they jeered at Imelda who seemed as unbothered by them as a speck of soot on her cauldron.

“Eyes on the game, hound!” Imelda barked as she streaked past. Sebastian rolled his eyes at the nickname his captain had bestowed upon him which to his dismay had caught on with the rest of their team.

As he began to turn his attention from the crowd a flash of black stood out against one of the scarlet banners. Obsidian and vibrating with its internal rage Sebastian caught sight of the bludger rocketing through the fog towards their Seekers. All other thoughts evaporated, and he pulled up the handle of his broom jolting up into its path.

He searched wildly through the dark skies for anything to redirect the screeching little devil away from her. His eyes landed on a scarlet figure with a bat in hand - Sebastian found his target. With all the strength his frozen joints would allow, Sebastian raised his arm and smacked the bludger with a resounding crack from his bat, sending it hurtling towards Isaac Cooper.

He’d apologise to his friend later if he put her boyfriend in the hospital wing.

A lopsided smile tugged at his lips. Sebastian leaned back slightly on his broom. Feeling rather pleased with himself he turned to grin at her hoping his quick reactions would break her concentration momentarily and earn him a flash of a smile no matter how fleeting; it was one of his few moments of pleasure in this infernal game – but she was gone.

“The Seekers have spotted the snitch!” Lucan shouted, “It’s Slytherin in the lead – come on Ogspire, knock her off her broom if you have to!”

“Lucan!”

“Sorry, Professor.”

Sure, enough like an arrow released from its quiver she was streaking towards the ground. Cutting through the rain, neck and neck with the bludger hand outstretched as she hurtled towards a flash of gold behind Cooper's left ear.

Nelly, the Gryffindor seeker had also spotted it from below. If she didn’t have such a sizable lead, Sebastian was sure there would be a head-on collision, a mess of broken bones and blood splattered across emerald and scarlet.

Sebastian’s head whipped around to the only other person not intently watching the seekers – Cooper. He’d seen or heard the bludger Sebastian had sent his way a split second before it was too late…for him.

Sebastian felt like he was watching in slow motion. Raindrops hovered in midair like glittering jewels, her emerald robes flapping in the wind like wings, bludger far too close to her head and Cooper poised to strike. A hunter with his gun ready to shoot her from the sky.

Cooper swivelled quickly on his Nimbus, strong arm reaching up above his head as he swung. Wood connected with iron as he followed through redirecting the angry bludger hurtling towards her.

Sebastian screamed her name.

So loud it clawed at his throat. A desperate plea for her to get out of the way, forget the bloody game - but his voice was silenced, stolen by the storm.

If it wasn’t for the clap of thunder and the hammering of rain, Sebastian knew he would have heard the sickening crunch as the bludger connected with bone.

Even if her hands had been tightly clutching her broom, she wouldn’t have been able to grip it after her head was bludgeoned to the side. Every muscle and tendon which had been coiled tight as she surged for victory slackened.

She wobbled and slid silently sideways off her broom.

***

Somewhere overhead even over the deep rumble of thunder, Sebastian could hear Imelda screeching out commands to their team, signalling desperately to Kogawa on the ground below. But Sebastian could barely register the words over the blood roaring in his ears.

Pressing hard on the handle of his broom Sebastian tore towards the ground, rain buffeting his face a harsh sting on freckled cheeks. His vision had tunnelled as he narrowed in on the spot she was falling. He could catch her. Stop her from hitting the ground, if only he could push himself faster. Harder.

She was falling like a star crashing to earth that never should have been stolen from the sky.

Bile was in Sebastian’s throat, harsh and sour. Twenty feet from the sodden earth. Faster. His stomach lurched. Ten feet. Just a little further. A futile hand outstretched.

Just as he was certain she was going to hit the ground limp limbs sprawled and broken in the grass like a rag doll she was suddenly buoyant – airborne once more.

Professor Ronan had his wand outstretched from the stands slowing her descent to Professor Weasley who had already been waiting on the ground. Her mouth pinched in a thin line as she surveyed the sickly parlour of the witch's face and the blood now matting her hair.

Sebastian was the first player to touchdown. Throwing his broom away, abandoning it like he would anything else as long as he could get to her. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could hear the other players circling down to earth but he was consumed. Soley with thoughts of her.

Professor Weasley flicked her wand, muttering a barrier charm shielding her from the unforgiving elements. Sebastian was hot on her heels to follow when Kagawa stepped in front of him putting a firm hand on his shoulder in warning to not interfere.

“She will be fine, Sallow!” said Kagawa sternly.

“You must be joking. She’s clearly not fine! I can help. Just let me go with her and-”

“Professor Weasley and I will accompany her to the hospital wing immediately. You will only get in the way. You can see her for yourself. Later. Be sure to relay that to the rest of the team,” she said with conviction but it did not ease the twisting in Sebastian’s stomach. Kagawa nodded tersely and strode briskly towards the castle.

Sebastian balled up his fists, jutting out his jaw as he took in a heavy breath through his nose.

He wasn’t cold any longer. Sebastian was burning. Burning from the inside out; with a white-hot rage…and fear. Letting it scorch at the shame he felt that he had let this happen, it had been his fault, he had not been enough to take care of her as he’d promised himself.

Mud splattered as he turned on his heels stomping towards Cooper. Channelling the last of his fraying self-control into not reaching for his wand and hexing him on the spot into his feet. Cooper’s face was pale, eyebrow knitted and mouth curling down with worry but it did little to quell Sebastian’s fury.

What right did Cooper have to be worried?

Cooper’s eyes found Sebastian, his grimace contorted into a glare. Narrowing his eyes, a sneer wrinkling his nose and the twitch in his jaw that seemed to be reserved especially for Sebastian. A face so unpleasant, that he had never been able to put his finger on why everyone in this school regarded him as so handsome. Being half-decent on a broom was hardly a reason to fawn after anyone.

Why someone as brilliant as her, with everything she had achieved, would fawn after him too had remained a mystery.

Sebastian never really knew what she saw in him, but he never questioned it - Cooper made his friend happy. Thought he’d made her happy. So the two young men largely ignored each other despite their significance to her unless an interaction was absolutely necessary.

But this betrayal was not something Sebastian could ignore.

“You could have killed her,” Sebastian shouted with such venom that not even a howl of wind could soften his tone. Sebastian shoved an accusatory finger into the other man's chest. Which was promptly smacked away in disgust.

“You heard Kogawa. She’ll be fine!”

Cooper pushed back his ash blonde hair sodden and hanging over his eyes. Averting his gaze to the direction Professor Weasley had whisked her out of the stands and towards the hospital wing. Sebastian clenched his teeth, his jaw twitching at his blatant disregard.

“What the hell were you playing at? Was killing your girlfriend really less important than losing a bloody game or has too many bludgers to the head rendered you a feckless moron?”

“Don’t think I didn’t see you hit a bludger at me. It’s part of the game, Sallow. She knew what she signed up for.”

“That’s bollocks and you know it.”

“Bludgers are an occupational hazard.”

“Couldn’t stand the fact she’s a better player than you - Is that it? Gryffindor chivalry my arse!”

“Unlike you, I'm not that insecure," Cooper blustered "I would have done the same to anyone else.”

“But she’s not just anyone else,” Sebastian shouted incredulously. Anger was pooling in his gut, ripping through him at the thought of Cooper or anyone daring to think so little of her. “She’s your girlfriend!”

Cooper scoffed and his eyes raked down Sebastian. Sizing him up for all he was worth. The two men stepped towards each other.

Never one to back down, Sebastian squared his shoulders to the challenge. Cooper wasn’t much taller than Sebastian and certainly not as broad but he used every last inch to stare down his nose at him with a mocking sneer.

“Exactly. She’s my girlfriend. Not yours.”

“I know that-”

“Do you?” he chortled. “Some of us were starting to think you were as thick as you are pathetic.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sebastian spoke through gritted teeth, acutely aware of the heat rising in his face staining his ears pink.

“It’s fucking embarrassing,” Cooper continued. “The way you carry on after her. Dragging her to the library every night, sending her owls - You don’t even like Quidditch! But you’re at her beck and call like a love-sick cruppy-”

“I’m her friend.”

“Her friend,” Cooper scoffed. “Give it a rest, Sallow. You think you have some sort of claim over her just because you’ve been following her around since fifth-year but never had the nerve to do anything about it.”

“I don’t have a claim on her-” he spluttered. His cheeks redden further and not just from the biting chill.

“No you don’t, because she’s mine-”

Crack.

Sebastian’s fist connected with Cooper’s jaw before he’d even realised he’d swung for the arsehole. Perhaps not as hard as a bludger but the cut it wrought would sting with far more malice than enchanted iron. Taken off guard expecting a wand drawn between his eyes long before a brawl, Cooper was sprawled out at Sebastian’s feet in the steeped grass.

Cooper stared up at him dumbfounded from the floor clutching his cheek. Sebastian’s breath came out angry and ragged, fogging the air in uneven pants. Cooper did not move to get up or reach for his wand. Despite his love for books and clever spell work, Sebastian in that moment was glad of the years of working the fields outside of Feldcroft that made him more physically intimidating than someone so scholarly rarely was. Because if Cooper had moved one inch, he wouldn’t have hesitated to hit him again. He wanted to hit him again. Partially for her, but mostly for himself because Cooper had made him feel small. Powerless. And he’d sworn to himself years ago that he'd never be powerless again.

Powerless as Cooper clearly felt. Crimson cheeked glaring up at him like the intensity of his gaze could set Sebastian on ablaze even in the torrential gail. The prickle of eyes gawping at them, making the heat rise in their cheeks and the hairs on the back of their necks stand to attention.

“Stay away from her. She’s not yours anymore. Not anyone’s. And if I catch you in a broomstick’s length of her again after what you did today - I swear on Salazar’s grave, you will be the one sleeping in the hospital wing next time.”

Cooper’s only acknowledgement of his threat was a glob of scarlet blood spat onto the grass. But he didn’t try to rise to his feet and continued to glare at Sebastian. The tips of his ears were as scarlet as his cloak in rage or embarrassment to be laid out in front of Merlin knows how many students that were still packed into the stands. Circling vultures who would undoubtedly, pick apart his humiliation and spread it through the castle letting it grow more outlandish with each retelling.

Let them say what they want, about Cooper or himself, let them pick them apart - they could make themselves sick on it for all he cared. He only cared about one thing at that moment.

He turned to head for the castle, ignoring the route for the changing rooms where his dry robes waited intent on striding straight for the hospital wing.

“Sallow! What the fuck do you think you're doing?” Imelda shouted barging past the group of quidditch players standing well back from the scuffle. Her black hair was sodden and her ponytail limp, her signature scowl she wore when addressing just about anyone looked forced with the corners of her eyes creased with concern.

“Finish the match without me Imelda-” he grumbled. She stepped into his path blocking him as he attempted to push past her.

“It’s already over. Ogspire caught the snitch and had the good sense to look sheepish about it when she realised what happened. Or the crowd would have seen two seekers knocked off their broom when I was through with her – but that doesn’t matter.”

“No, it doesn’t matter! Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to see to the only thing that does.”

Reyes placed her hands on her hips and looked him up and down, assessing him with an amused quirk on her brow - Sebastian wondered how such a tiny thing as Reyes could be as terrifying as a Hungarian Horntail like she could strip the flesh of your bones with a look.

"Do you know why the rest of the team calls you ‘the hound’?"

"I assume it's because you told them to treat me like some sort of dog. Now if you’ll excuse-"

"You're not a good quidditch player, Seb."

"Cheers Reyes."

"Luckily Carrow is a decent enough beater to look after the rest of the team. But we keep you for one thing. You're the hound. Her guard dog. On and off the pitch. That's why she went down like a sack of shit,” she grimaced. Reyes despite her callousness, Sebastian could see how her shoulder stiffened with suppressed anxiety for one of her few close friends and it settled the anger that was still threatening to spill over. “She's potentially the only seeker in history to never be hit by a bludger. She doesn't even look for them anymore. As I said - you’re not a good quidditch player, Sebastian. But while she’s my Seeker and Carrow doing the heavy lifting…I’ll happily take a bloody guard dog over a half-decent beater. Just don't beat yourself or Cooper up about it."

“No promises about the last bit,” he griped. Averting his eyes, hoping Imelda thought the flush creeping over his cheeks was from the chill and not from the knowledge that even his own teammates shared the opinions of Cooper and his friends when it came to Sebastian’s feelings for her - which felt jumbled with both worry and speculation.

“Go check on her. Blainey will have a fit if the whole team shows up,” Imelda said softly. She negated her uncharacteristic kindness with a firm punch to Sebastian’s arm. Her eyes glinted viciously as she looked past him to Cooper who had pushed himself off the ground dusting off his robes. “Besides…I want to have a little word with Cooper myself.”

***

A puddle had formed under Sebastian’s chair as it had dripped from his sodden robes until Madam Blainey had ushered him into the lavatory. Sebastian hurriedly stripped, cast a drying charm on his clothes and pulled them back on. Forgoing his shoes as he hopped lopsidedly out the door. Hastily pulling up the breeches which stuck against the wet hairs on his legs. Blainey wrinkled her nose at his display but left him to his vigil, being far too familiar with the pair and how persistent they could be when it came to remaining by the other's hospital bed.

On more than one occasion she’d sent the other packing only to be greeted cheerily the next morning by a smug-faced teenager who’d tampered with her locks and wards to sneak back inside to keep the other company. After almost three years of this, she left them, albeit reluctantly, to it.

She was curled up under white starchy sheets; a draped knit blanket barely covering her knees was sliding to the floor where she’d squirmed. No longer chilled to her bones, the colour had returned to her cheeks. Sebastian rested his head on his palm, elbow braced against his knee. He’d been in this position far too many times than was preferable but it had become familiar to him; the twinge in his neck, the ache in his arms as the hours of the vigil dragged on. Not that he minded, being beside each other was second nature.

She shifted; eyes blinking sleepily back into focus as she rolled onto her side. Sebastian stretched rubbing the back of his neck smiling at the softness of her sleepy gaze.

“Seb?” she sighed dreamily, her voice thick and curdled with potions Blainey had more than likely forced down her neck.

“Who else,” he grinned. Blainey had long since satisfied her need to poke and prod at her ward and headed up to bed. And he doubted anyone had the bollocks to go against Imelda if they’d forbidden them from seeing her tonight. “You gave me a bit of a fright there, pet.”

“It’ll take more than that for you to get rid of me…” she said sitting up more jovial than he expected. “But…whoever came up with the idea of bludgers is a sadist.”

“Or a masochist. Some of us are gluttons for punishment,” Sebastian argued, pulling at the collar of his Quidditch jersey exposing the jagged scar on his shoulder.

Faded white, the remnants of one of their summer duels. With no Blainey to patch him up in seconds, the skin had puckered and scared but he was rather fond of how it cut through the freckles.

“If you recall, you were the one who insisted we practice severing charms after five pints in the Broomsticks.”

“In my defence, with the amount of practice you get, I thought you had better aim when you were drunk,” he chuckled. “How are you feeling? You seem to be fairing better than I was that morning.”

“I’m made of sterner stuff. No hungover wailing over a little scratch for me,” she jabbed before grimacing rubbing the side of her head where it had struck. “Not going to say it was pleasant - nasty little buggers aren’t they. But Blainey patched me up. Made me drink that foul grey sludge for the concussion but a couple of spells for the wound and I was good as new. Honestly, the sleeping draught seemed like overkill but I think she’s just sick of catching me roaming the halls at night.”

“If she thinks that’d stop you! Don’t think I’ve ever seen you sit still for this long, you menace.”

“Or you for that matter,” she grinned, patting his hand affectionately. Moonlight spilled in from the ornate windows over the vacant hospital wing, she peered past him down the rows of empty beds. “Where’s Isaac? I thought he’d want to see me-”

Sebastian bristled, her disappointed frown souring his cheerful mood. He brushed the bruised swelling on his knuckles from where they’d connected with Cooper’s jaw.

“What you’d rather see your ‘brave’ Gryffindor boyfriend - than me? Who’s been here.”

Who’s always been here.

Maybe Cooper was right. Perhaps they all were and Sebastian really was pathetic. Pathetic for assuming she’d still want to wake to Sebastian at her bedside now that she had Cooper in her life. That their friendship could compare to what he could offer her.

“No, I’m glad you’re here,” she said crossly. “But…I thought he’d want to at least check I was alright.”

“You shouldn’t want to see him after the stunt he pulled today! He’s the reason you’re in the hospital at all, might I add. Decided you were less important than a stupid game. I told him to stay the hell away from you for good.”

She blinked at him incredulously for a moment before the heat began to rise in her cheeks and she clenched her jaw.

“How dare you! Who do you think you are deciding what I do? You have a lot of nerve, Sebastian.”

“I thought I was saving you the trouble but if you want to scurry back to him, be my guest!” Standing so abruptly his chair screeched across the floor. “Keep doing everything for everyone else when they wouldn’t give a fraction back. No matter the cost to yourself, like you always do. You can be so bloody naive!”

“I know you don’t like Isaac - you don’t even try to hide it. But you can’t dictate who I see. And I hoped you thought more highly of me to think I’d stay with him after the shit he pulled today. But, if that’s what you really think of me, you can bloody join him” she snarled.“I tell everyone they don’t know you like I do, but maybe I am naive. Seems I’m surrounded by tossers trying to knock me down. Why do you even care, as clearly you think so little of me?”

“Of course, I care! Even though you’re seemingly incapable of caring about yourself. You barely even let me. You’re infuriating! What’s more ridiculous is what someone like you would see in him. He’s not good enough for you, he never has been! You give yourself over to people who couldn’t give too shits about you and now look at you-”

“Oh, so what? My boyfriend turning out to be a complete and utter prat is somehow my fault?”

“No! Of course not,” he flustered, carding his fingers through his hair. All the words in his head felt jumbled and he could tell by the dangerous look in her eyes he’d let his temper dig himself into a hole once again.

“Don’t hold back, Sebastian,” she spat through gritted teeth. “Did you just come here to insult me or is there something you’re trying to say?”

“What I’m trying to say is you should you should be with someone who fucking cares. If it was me, I wouldn’t be risking your safety to win a stupid game! Merlin, if I was your boyfriend I wouldn’t risk you for anything. I thought I lost you once and it was one of the worst days of my life. If someone had tried to take you away from me I would have fought back. Fought for you. If we were together-”

His voice died abruptly in his throat when she was no longer fixing him with a deadly eye but staring at him. Wide-eyed her mouth hung slightly a jar. He'd built up a barrier around himself and as close as he was to her, probably closer than anyone he’d still kept her at arm's length. Once again he let his temper get the better of him but instead of solidifying those walls, he’d exposed a little too much. Exposed something he’d vehemently denied to even himself.

Shone a light on a corridor in the labyrinth of their friendship and feelings he had for her he’d never explored. One he perhaps always knew was there but until now had dutifully tried to ignore lest he lose his way and not be able to make it back to the well-travelled paths of simple friendship.

“But we’re not together…” she said cautiously. As if she could tell Sebastian was a startled animal, and once the shock of his confession wore off he’d bolt. Which quite frankly he was considering.

“No. We’re not," he responded voice clipped. Sebastian was more surprised it even worked at all with how tight his chest felt.

“But if we were…” she said it like she was stepping out onto thin ice wondering if it would hold or she’d plunge into the unforgiving water below. “What would you do for me?”

There was no use hiding it any longer. He sighed, looking into her eyes resigning himself to that first step into the unknown.

“Anything.”

Her breath caught and Sebastian knew she could see the truth they’d danced around painted across his face and laid bare between them. Feel the finality of his words like Pandora opening the box and swarming the carefully curated distance between them with truth never to be recaptured.

Sebastian reached for her, fingers entwining in her hair tilting her chin up so she could see him. Perhaps truly for the first time, exposed and raw. Her soft lips parted as if to protest his confession but as she searched his face for the lie she found none. Sebastian was done with hiding, with pretending. The realisation that his feelings went beyond that of a companion and he didn’t care if anyone thought it pathetic. In truth, it was liberating to drop the charade he played with his own heart.

He kissed her.

Claiming her lips firm, not holding back the wave of desire that ignited any semblance of decorum and dignity he had left. Any whisper of a reason he’d concocted in his mind for why they couldn’t - shouldn’t be together going up in smoke. Pulling her towards by the nape of her neck, like he hadn’t realised he’d been starving until he tasted her.

There was a desperation in the way he cupped her chin, tangled in her hair longing for acceptance. He brushed his tongue lightly against her bottom lip.

Just like that barrier between them crumbled for her too and she was kissing him back. Mouth moving against his with such a fiery intensity he thought he might catch alight. Like she too had stifled any spark she’d felt between them; kept it bottled away for so long with no chance to grow that now it was fed it devoured her.

It was not soft, nor tender – perhaps it was because neither were they.

His tongue delved into her mouth hungrily, exploring brushing against hers. He stifled a wanton moan into her mouth.

“I think I need to break up with my boyfriend,” she said breathlessly between kisses.

“I already took care of that for you.”

For a moment, Sebastian thought she might break off their kiss and start shouting again. But she nipped at his lip satisfied with his answer. Her hand was in his hair, wrapping around his neck. Pushing up on her knees to press her chest against his. Muffled moans slipped from her lips which made Sebastian’s head spin dizzy with desire. His own strangled, desperate groan when she slid her tongue past his lips to brush tentatively against his own. Every flick of her tongue drove him further into the heady fog of desire.

The overwhelming need to be closer. To drown in her embrace. Sebastian's knee found purchase on the bed between her parted legs. His hand ghosted down her back settling on the small of her back. She groaned as her spine curved towards him as he impressed down upon her. Still clinging to him as she fell backwards. Sebastian tumbled after her. Not caring about how his weight rested heavily upon her. She seemed to revel in the closeness, in the way Sebastian bore down on her. Desperate to be closer to her. Cocoon himself around her. Be the barrier to shield her from harm.

But she wanted no barriers. At least not between her and the sanctuary that was Sebastian. She tugged up the hem of his jersey, eager fingers stumbling. He let his lips briefly leave hers, sitting back to pull it roughly over his head discarding it carelessly to the side.

It wasn't as if she hadn't seen him shirtless before when they'd spent sun-drenched summer afternoons swimming in the river by Feldcroft or when errant spells had ripped or burnt the clothes from his back. But never had she looked at him like she was now - or if she had he hadn't noticed. Eyes darkened with desire raked over him hungrily as if she wanted to tear into his flesh.

She explored the breadth of him that was now exposed to her. The sparse hair on his chest, the marred skin on his shoulder the scar she’d left; a claim she’d staked on his skin long before he knew every inch of it was hers.

His hands explored her in turn. Running along her ribs, the curve of her hips, and the dip of her waist. Committing this side of her to memory. Unbound, lustful. Still every bit the wild thing he knew her to be but with an endearing nervousness to her inquisitive touch.

A side of her that until now had remained a mystery to him. A restricted section of a library he’d been too afraid to read from lest he be thrown from its doors entirely; on he intended to consume entirely.

“I didn't know you wanted this - Merlin, I didn't know I wanted this," he murmured between kisses.

"A life-threatening blow to the head can really knock things into perspective."

He tilted her chin to access her neck, nipping at the sensitive skin below her jaw. She let out a startled little yelp as her body jolted in surprise. Sebastian chuckled and pressed his lips more softly against her quivering pulse, letting the tension ebb from her tightly coiled muscles before sucking a brand into the delicate skin. She groaned as her back arched towards him, breast brushing against his chest through her thin nightdress. The sweet trembling whimpers as he soothed the ache so intoxicating he felt drunk on her cries. Kneading the flesh of her breast in his palm, coaxing more delightful sounds from her lips as he tweaked the bud between his fingers.

"I'll have to thank Isaac for-"

"Don't say his name-" Sebastian pleaded. Disliking the way any name sounded in the breathless quiver of her voice besides his own. "From now on - No one else's. Only-"

She cut him off cupping his face, prying him away from his ministrations on her jaw. She touched her lips to his gentler than the last had been, understanding the desire in his incoherent rambling.

"Sebastian."

And she said it was the only name that mattered. He groaned deeply, burying his face in her hair. Breathing in the faint lingering scent of mallowsweet not even the storm could wash away entirely. Sebastian grasped her hip through her thin nightdress dress so he could roll his own against her core. He knew she would feel the growing need hardening in his between his legs.

Slipping under her skirt he slid a hand purposefully up the inside of her thigh. Her fists balled in the sheets as he brushed against the soaked fabric of her knickers. She shivered and certainly not from the cold, as he tentatively traced her folds.

“Say my name again.”

She complied and he pressed his thumb against the bundle of nerves. She whined at the contact and it called to something primal within him. That doggedness, that impulsivity a part of him he tried to damper, and contain lest it consume him completely as it had done in the past - perhaps this was why he'd built a wall between her and his heart. Because once he surrendered this part of himself to her, anything he had done in the past would pale in comparison to the everything he would do for her.

Shifting the fabric to the side and dragging a finger through the slick coating her folds to press against her clit. Coaxing out mewls of pleasure with every tantalising circle of the nub. Her breath was hot against his neck and a flush had spread from her cheeks down her chest. She writhed in search of more friction as he teased her open with his fingers. Sebastian emitted a low throaty groan when he felt how silky and keen she was for him. Her breath caught in her throat and his own became more ragged as he pumped and curled his fingers inside of her. Working her open, pliant to his touch.

His cock was strained against his Quidditch breeches twitching eagerly against her stomach with every muttered curse and keening mewl she released. Her whine into his mouth, a plea for Sebastian to give her more than just a tentative caress. Her hands which until now had been stroking along his spine and tangling in chestnut curls ran along the curve of his ribs and down his stomach. She palmed his hard length and began pulling the laces to free him from his trousers.

Rumoured dalliances were one thing and those were bountiful. Gossip spread like wildfire whether there was truth to it or not. But if it were to be discovered Sebastian had had her completely - it could damn her. There would be no going back, no changing her mind about their feelings for each other. Not that there would be any going back for him. Not now the floodgates had opened try as he might he would not be able to close them.

He’d submitted to it. To be hers. And he knew his stubborn heart could not be turned.

A crease formed between his eyebrows and he pulled back from their kiss. Sebastian had burned for her for longer than he knew and now his heart had begun to splutter with nerves. She smoothed the lines etched on his brow, tilting her chin up to kiss him with a soft longing. A silent affirmation that this was not a moment of madness or revenge.

“This really isn't the place, pet," he tried to reason but he made no motion to move away from her embrace. Instead, he peeled the silken nightgown over her head which she wriggled out of gratefully. Bare and laidf out below him his mouth felt dry, as she looked at him through her lashes. Chest heaving, his friend transformed into a goddess under the soft lamp light.

"You don't think the hospital wing is romantic?"

"We could get caught?"

"We're both rather adept at getting out of trouble."

"You're sure?"

“About you?” He nodded nervously. Her eyes softened and the words came to her easily as if somehow she'd always known it would be him. "Since the day I met you.”

Sebastian heart rattled as she undid the laces, and helped her shuck the material down his hips. He kissed her and he wondered why he tried to evade the inevitability that was her. She wrapped a hand around his cock and he bucked almost embarassingly into her grip.

He helped her guided his cock towards her entrance, shivering as he dragged the head against her slick folds. He kissed her deeply. Passionately. In reverence to her and all she meant to him; even when he'd been too blind to see it.

He sank into her tight heat. The noise rumbling from deep in his chest was more akin to a growl than anything human as his girth stretched her inch by inch.

Muscles tightly coiled with nerves but a tremor of pleasure electrified her as Sebastian pressed his thumb gently to her clit soothing her delicate whimpering. Fingernails etching grooves into his shoulders he knew should sting but gods - his mind had been completely overcome in the bliss of her warmth.

"Ah- Fuck."

Sebastian wasn't sure which one of them had uttered it the moment he bottomed out inside her. Dropping to press his forehead against hers. Hot breath disturbed her unruly hair which he had tangled, a blush staining her cheeks and lips swollen, Sebastian didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone more beautiful.

The last thread of his control was dwindling with how tight her walls fluttered around his cock, how perfectly he fit inside her; like he belonged buried in her. But he stilled himself. Letting her adjust despite how desperately he craved the claim her to make her scream his name until she could speak no other.

Sebastian wasn't known for his exercises in control, but he tried. For her.

Moving his hips working himself into her with tentative shallow thrusts. Her appreciating shallow panting like blissful music. He stole a look down to where their bodies were connected. Almost coming undone completely at the sight.

"It's like you were fucking made for me," he rasped. Still circling her swollen nub admiring how each stroke strained her breathing into short needy pants. Coaxing more of her slick to coat his shaft.

"Funny," she choked a devilish smile spreading over her face. Her eyes flicked up to his from they too had been trained on their union. "I was going to say the same thing about you."

He dared a deeper thrust. Pulling back before pushing back in with a languid roll of his hips that made her groan, wanton and needy. Her back arching skyward he slid his free arm under the space she left. Wrapping around her waist to embrace her tighter.

Her hips bucked towards him, with every deep steady thrust. Cursing a string of profanities and praise the new angle allowed the head of his cock to stroke along her sweet spot. Filthy things that would have made even him blush but if it was possible they only made him rut into her more possessively. Mouthing brainless at the curve of her jaw, as she accepted him deeper.

There was a familiarity in the unfamiliar. The way the scent of mallowsweet wrapped around him had never smelt so intoxicating. The lilt to her voice when she said his name never sounded so reedy and desperate.

He'd been trapped outside the gates of Elysium and now indulged fully in its pleasures. Sebastian groaned, peppering kissed into the crook of her neck, spreading her knees open to take him deeper. His thumb still teased her clit with every thrust making her legs tremble. The hair on his chest and freckles across his skin did little to hide the flush of colour on his skin. Sebastian clung to her desperately, her skin soft and plush in ways he’d never let himself imagine.

He felt her climax building around his cock. Clawing at his back as she whined, teetered on the edge of ecstasy. Desperately clinging to him, to prolong the moment neither of them wanted to end. But his own release was impressing on him fast. Coiling tightly in his gut as he began to pound into her harder his pace becoming erratic with every deliberate thrust into her tight heat.

“Fuck. Fuck- Please, darling. Come for me,” he pleaded. Barely recognising the desperate gravelly rumble of his voice.

“Seb- Sebastian, I’m so close!”

“I can feel you. Fucking incredible. You’re incredible, taking me so well. I can’t- I can’t hold back anymore.”

Her climax broke, with a shuddering cry of his name. Spasming and contracting as she sucked him in impossibly deeper into her cunt. Sebastian doubted there was any greater pleasure in this world than the feeling of her completely unravelling, pulsing around him.

She was calling out to him breathless, like his name was the answer to a question her soul had been asking and he was filling in the gaps of what she never knew was missing.

His vision narrowed, until she was all there was. Blushing, dishevelled a fucking exquisite mess writhing against him - because of him. With a final uneven snap of his hips, he buried himself inside of her to the hilt. Groaning her name over and over like a mantra as he came, hard. Harder than he ever had. Hips spluttering as he spilt inside of her grinding out his release deep in her channel.

He loosened the arm coiled around her waist allowing her to slump boneless onto the mattress. He kissed her, capturing her sweet dulcet whimpers as he coaxed her slowly down from her bliss. Letting her ride out the last of her shaking climax with gentle circles on her clit, still buried inside of her.

They stayed like that for a while, his head pressed into the crook of her neck, whispering sweet nothings in her ear. Humming contentedly as rocked into her. A little gasped when he at last pulled his softening cock from inside of her. Mourning the loss of being intertwined with him completely.

Hardly big enough for two, he pulled her half draping her soft body over him so they both fit. Head resting on his chest she hummed contentedly as he pressed his lips to the crown of her head. They were silent, the only sounds were their laboured breathing and the occasional satiated sigh.

"I love you," Sebastian’s voice broke the silence.

And it felt too big and too small all at once; like it didn't capture the enormity of what he was feeling but now that he did he could never love anyone else. Never feel the warmth of another and for it to feel like home. “I just- I want you to know in case it wasn’t obvious. You don’t have to say it back-”

“I love you too. In fact, I think I’ve loved you for a long time.”

She tilted her chin up to kiss him and the world seemed to tip on its axis. Sebastian resigned to the knowledge he would fly through a thousand more storms just so he could bask in her warmth.

***

Luxuriating in the afterglow of a perfect evening rarely lasted forever. However, Sebastian didn't anticipate his to end quite so abruptly or by being shoved out of bed by the witch he loved. Landing clumsily on the tiled floor he glared up at her disorientated. If she wasn't roughly pulling her nightdress over her head to cover her bare breasts he may have thought last night was a rather vivid wet dream.

"Blainey's coming. You need to hide," she hissed. “Quickly. Under the bed.”

"So? She's used to it. We always stay here together-" Sebastian yawned in protest. Reaching up to fix her dishevelled hair brushing his thumb against her cheek. If possible, she blushed even more wildly than she did last night when he’d been buried between her legs. As if the affectionate hand from the man who loved her was somehow more intimate.

"Yes- but usually fully clothed! Oh for Merlin's sake-"

She snatched her wand up off the table, pointing it dead between Sebastian's eyes she muttered a disillusionment charm. Sebastian felt it trickle over him and just as his hands disappeared from view the door to Blainey’s chambers swung open. The matron shuffled into the hospital wing bee-lining for her solitary ward’s bed who was quickly stashing her wand under her pillow. Sebastian despite being little more than a trick of the light, scooted further under her cot to avoid discovery.

"Good morning, dear! How are you feeling?” she greeted her cheerily. Stopping at the foot of her bed her sensible shoes the only thing visible to Sebastian. “...You look a little flushed."

"Much better, Miss. Truly-”

"Look at the state of your sheets. Tossing and turning all night, I’ll bet," Blainey tutted. Sebastian clapped his hand over his mouth to stifle a snort of laughter. "Glad I kept you in. I knew you needed a good night's rest."

“Ah. yes- slept better than I have in years,” her voice wavered unconvincingly. Terrible liar. The bed springs straining as she squirmed uncomfortably.

"You have a visitor,” Blainey said, fussing with her pillow. Sebastian tucked his feet in tighter into the cramped space. “Your boyfriend, Mr Cooper."

Sebastian stilled, his jaw tensing as he resisted the urge to charge out of the hospital wing in all his naked glory and tell the Gryffindor to piss off.

"I think Isaac is mistaken, Miss. He is certainly not my boyfriend any longer.”

Sebastian may be naked, tailbone throbbing and hunched under a hospital bed in the most undignified position anyone could possibly be discovered in - but Sebastian felt far from pathetic. Smug was probably a better word with the grin that had stretched over his face.

The blow to the face may have hurt Cooper’s pride but it would be nothing compared to the gut punch awaiting him when he discovered how their roles had reversed. When he saw what he squandered had been entirely to Sebastian's gain.

"Or perhaps he has taken too many bludgers to the head or he would have gleaned from his conversation with Sebastian that I don't have a boyfriend,” she said loudly enough for Cooper's prying ears likely eavesdropping on the other side of the door.

Sebastian frowned. Snaking his hand up quickly to deliver a hard pinch to the soft flesh of her arse. She squeaked in surprise, swatting into thin air as she searched blindly for his invisible hand. He knew she’d be blushing madly and he’d probably get an earful about that later. Although he now had a lot more creative fantasies about making it up to her.

"Something wrong, dear?" Blainey turned to her concerned.

"Nothing!"

But, something was much indeed wrong.

'I don't have a boyfriend' he almost gave himself away with an audible scoff.

Sebastian would have to do something about that immediately.

#sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x f!mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow smut #sebastian x mc #sebastian sallow fanfic #Sebastian sallow x female reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x reader #Sebastian Sallow x Slytherin reader #Beater Sebastian #Seeker MC

425 notes · View notes

cherryslyce · 1 year

Text

Second Son (I) | Regulus Black

Series Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.

Part II / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x Gender Neutral Reader

Notes: Not canon compliant, cursing, Kreacher is a little shit

Following the sudden death of Cedric Diggory months before, the magical world flipped on its nose. The Daily Prophet pumped out towers of articles denouncing The Boy Who Lived, dubbing Harry as The Boy Who Lied.

Clever. Seriously, people actually subscribe to read that shit?

Surprisingly, Dumbledore forbid any form of contact with Harry during the summer--Hermione and Ron threw quite the fit after receiving the news. The most unsurprising reaction came from the ex-convict himself, Sirius Black.

Azkaban somehow became even less appealing after having to sit through his meltdown at the dinner table.

Who knew dementors could twist your spirit so far as to make petulant meltdowns a regular occurrence.

If his word was anything to go by, he got the better end of the deal compared to his murderous, psychopathic cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange.

Entirely reassuring.

The inability to rant to Harry via letters, deal with Ron's whining, engage Hermione in her tangents, or sit around Sirius left you with no choice but to venture around on your own.

There was virtually no chance of running into anybody but the twins (who seriously needed their apparating privileges revoked) on your little escapade.

The hallways were dusty and suffocating from the sheer amount of unkempt gothic vintage furniture lining the perimeter. While an uncanny atmosphere of suffering blanketed every centimeter of the walls.

Wandering aimlessly, a sudden pulse of magic combined with your reckless compulsion steers your attention towards a tall, black door. The crystal door knob was dull in the dim light, the keyhole and backing rusting with age.

Clearly, no one has gone into the room in years--decades, even.

The room was located on the third floor of the house, far away from the bedrooms the Weasleys were sleeping in and even farther away from the restless master of the house (who was pacing like a maniac in the kitchen for the nth hour straight).

What's the worse that can happen?

Famous last words (Harry's impulsivity was definitely rubbing off on you).

The door put up quite a fight when you tried to twist the knob, creaking in protest before finally giving way as you pushed with your entire body.

You stumbled in, nearly choking on the cloud of dust that danced up into the air with your ever so graceful entrance. Taking a look around, you came to one conclusion.

The room was utterly boring.

Boxes lined nearly every inch of the floor, the wallpaper peeling and dragging down the walls, and the small window across the room was clouded by dirt. A lone ray of light illuminated a small black dresser table against the wall. Curiously, you carefully weaved around the boxes on the floor and padded towards the dresser.

Just as you reached to pull one of the drawers open, an unsettling prickle ran down your spine. Instinctively grasping at your wand, you spun around only to be met with the opposite wall and more dust.

Quickly scanning the room again, your breath caught in your throat as you locked eyes with a pair of narrowed ones.

It was a bloody portrait.

“Who are you? Who let you in here?”

The boy in the painting seemed only a few years older than you with pin-straight posture and sharp features to match. His voice echoed with firmness, a voice that seemed used to commanding respect and attention.

But Merlin and Morgana…he was divine. So divine that even Draco Malfoy would lose his composure if someone this attractive showed up at Hogwarts.

“No one...I'm no one. Who are you? You look…er-familiar.”

Your last words came out as more of a question as you slowly drank up every detail of his features.

The boy’s eyes narrowed further into a glare, seemingly starting to become irate with your dodgy answer. Before he could retort, a familiar pop sounded through the room and before you could even comprehend what was happening, a familiar house elf was barreling through the boxes and dropping in front of the portrait.

“Master Regulus! Kreacher has failed you! Disgraceful Master Sirius has stolen everything! Oh my poor Mistress!”

The boy seemed taken aback by the sudden intrusion and the rather emotional outburst from Kreacher.

Seriously, could portraits take that many steps back?

Watching for a few more moments with wide eyes, it seemed that nothing the boy was saying was registering to the inconsolable elf.

Going to give the elf and Regulus some privacy, you scampered away and closed the door with much effort and an audible huff.

As you started walking away, a sudden bang nearly snatched your soul out of your body. Spinning around, confusion washed over you as Kreacher struggled to clamber off of the worn carpet, a disgruntled noise echoing around the hall.

Kreacher had just flew into the wall. Did the elf lose some screws and try to become a part of the bloody wallpaper?

“Kreacher? What happened?!”

Before the snippy elf could reply, loud footsteps pounded nearby and a disheveled Sirius bounded up from the staircase, shooting a look of mixed disbelief and contempt at his elf.

“What the hell?! Kreacher what are you doing?! You can’t just leave when I’m telling you to do something!”

Feeling, again, like an intruder to a conversation, you shuffled against the wall and towards the stairs as the house elf snarled at the older man, briefly eyeing you with confusion. Raising your eyebrows, you watch as the elf shoots glances behind him towards the room before popping away from a screaming Sirius.

Rolling your eyes, you say a silent farewell to the mysterious room only to notice the door was no longer there. The area where the door should have been was replaced with nothing more than peeling wall and a dusty wall lamp.

Did you just hallucinate the last 10 minutes of your life?

Apparently not. A few days had passed since your strange encounter with Regulus Black in the disappearing storage room, and you had somehow gained the undivided attention of Kreacher.

It seemed the barmy elf held some newfound admiration for you since you somehow reunited him with the young master he actually liked.

You were nose-deep in a book about Ancient Property Magic from the Black Library when the elf hesitantly approached you.

"Kreacher has a question for the young blood-traitor."

What a punk.

Placing the book off to the side, you rub the bridge of your nose in exasperation.

How did Hermione go on for hours reading in these conditions?

All the words were blending together and your eyes stung from all the damn dust in the house.

"Hello Kreacher. What do you need?"

"How did the young blood-traitor find Master Regulus? Kreacher doesn't know how Master Regulus is here...Kreacher has failed...Master Sirius is a lawless traitor undeserving--"

"Woah! Okay...while I am not too sure about how exactly I found that room. I suppose it is a good thing you have such er--apprehensions about Sirius. I don't think he would appreciate me breaking into one of the rooms here."

Which was entirely true.

Sirius was off his rocker. The combination of being away from his godson, listening to his mother screech every morning, and having to deal with Molly fussing over everyone was working him up the wall.

You felt almost bad for not telling Sirius about Regulus, but he had plenty on his plate and it felt nice to have something to yourself--your own little summer secret.

Granted, it was more accurate to describe it as a dead-pureblood-heir summer quest. Though, not as weird as giving a troll brain damage in your first year at Hogwarts.

Suddenly, you had a great idea.

"Hey Kreacher, want to go exploring with me?"

The house elf was skeptical for most of your trek upstairs, and he looked positively gleeful when you managed to somehow summon the secret door.

Apparently, Kreacher was magically expelled from the room the moment you left. So you were somehow the key to accessing the missing Young Master.

Before you could even caution the elf or come up with a speech for Regulus, the little thing was already flying for the door knob.

"You are back."

Regulus looked all but the same, except more tired than suspicious this time around.

"Yes. I hope you don't mind that I'm here. I have brought Kreacher as an olive branch to show that I am of no threat."

The boy's eyes flicker towards the unusually silent elf, and then pierces you again. Something akin to amusement danced in his eyes and you were almost offended.

You were no Harry Potter, but you weren't magically inept.

"Answer my question from last time. Who are you?"

"My name is Y/N. I don't know how or why this room exists, and it doesn't seem like Sirius has any knowledge of it. But from the looks of it, I'm the only one who can find this room."

"Sirius? He is alive then?"

Your lip quirks at the remark and you turn your gaze to the ceiling, "Yes, but he isn't quite himself".

"What?"

"Azkaban tends to have that effect."

"What?"

"You've missed a lot, Regulus. Like a lot. You're different from what I've heard though, pleasantly so. After all you haven't called me a foul, loathsome blood traitor. Nor have you tried to preach blood purity to me yet."

Regulus considers you for a few moments, eyes imperceptibly running over your expression. It is only for the briefest moment that you see something comparable to respect shine in his eyes.

Kreacher shifts uncomfortably and looked ready to butthead you, but Regulus interrupts the sudden blanket of silence.

"Kreacher, could you give us some privacy?"

The elf looked ready to vehemently protest in a manner similar to how he denies Sirius, but seemed to remember that he actually gave a flying handle about Regulus‘ opinion of him.

"If you wish, Master Regulus. Kreacher will be outside."

The elf pops away and you turn to maintain steady eye contact with the boy, becoming more intrigued with every passing second.

"You are right. I haven't tried to indoctrinate you or denounce your beliefs. I have been here for a long blur of time. I have had the space to formulate my own thoughts and opinions."

"Oh? A death eater finding salvation and seeing the light. Of course it'd be a feat only achievable through death."

"You speak as though we--they are still at large. Are there still death eaters around?" The disbelief flickering across his face spurred you to entertain him with an answer despite your former apprehension towards him.

"Yes. Many are well and alive. Lucius Malfoy prides himself in being able to circumvent the law and maintain his job in the Ministry despite his allegiance to the Dark Lord. Not that it will do him any good. From what I can deduce, the Dark Lord is not very forgiving."

Regulus looks like he's been suckerpunched in the gut, grimacing at every word that passes through your lips.

"You are right. Lucius will be punished for his treachery. I had hoped that the world would be rid of the Dark Lord after my death."

Confusion passes through you in waves as an indecipherable emotion mars his face.

So he wasn't a valiant supporter of the Dark Lord? Then it would seem the rumors that he was killed by the Dark Lord or his followers have some credibility.

"Well, the Dark Lord was gone, so to speak, for a while at least. It is only as of a few months ago did he come back in full form."

"I see."

"You don't seem surprised. Well, he killed one of my friends and traumatized my best friend so I hope you'll give me permission to wring his neck."

"You're quite vulgar."

"I am a saint compared to your brother, and my vulgarity is very much justified."

Regulus hums in understanding and you could almost see a miniscule smile stretching at his lips.

"Well, for your sake, I hope you never have to come face to face with the Dark Lord."

"I don't have much of a choice, he's been trying to eviscerate my friends and I since we were 11."

"Ah...well it would appear that you are to join me in the afterlife soon then."

"You'd like that wouldn't you? But I have no plans on dying anytime soon."

"Shame."

"Sod off. You're fine on your own...right?"

Dumb question, the man is literally stuck inside a painting in an abandoned secret room.

"It does get a bit lonely. But it is only the punishment for my sins."

"Well, I think you're quite swell. So don't worry, I have the whole entire summer to bother you. Think of it as an added layer of punishment."

"If you insist." His words conveyed exasperation, but the boyish smile that lit up his face told you a completely different story.

You couldn't help but admire his expression, committing it to memory because you were sure that his smiles were a rarity.

Pretty.

Wow. You were absolutely screwed.

#regulus black #regulus black x reader #regulus black imagine #regulus black fluff #regulus x reader #regulus black scenario #regulus black deserved better #harry potter series #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction #regulus black fanfiction #the noble house of black #sirius black #hermione granger #ronald weasley

1K notes · View notes

dreamsandimagination · 5 months

Text

Wish rewrite with Amaya as the villain (spoilers)

While I love Chris Pine as the narcasistic King Magnifico, I feel like they wasted a opportunity to have Amaya as a villain.

Instead of a confident narcissist, Magnifico is a timid yet sweet wizard who stays in his lab, waers ragged servant clothes behind closed doors, and doesnt come out that often, except to grant wishes. Think of him as a male version of Elsa and Snowwhite.

the pressure to grant everyones high expectations and his own introvert nature causes him to often screw up the wishes he has to grant at the ceremony. Note that the wishes that he grants are all materialistic yet harmless, like, "I want a puppy!" or "I want a house!"

Amaya, who serves as Mother Gothel/Evil Queen to Magnificos Rapunzel/Snowwhite, married him solidly because of his sorcery and has been secretly breaking his self-esteem over the years. She installed the dogma in Magnificos head that only SHE can judge wishes accordingly and that people cant be trusted with them because they are all selfish (which is true, to a extent). Not only that, but she also keeps Magnificos OWN wish - to be a great wizard - to herself as a means to control him.

Then, enter Asha, who sees this emotional abuse by accident and boldly speaks her mind to Magnifico about this, planting the first seed in Magnificos head that Amaya is using him, much like the town is using him for.materialistic wishes. Magnifico doesnt believe Asha because of denial - the wishing ceremony is the only time his subjects actually pay attention to him and his sorcery is his only means of value to the community - and so, he banishes her from the castle.

The movie could then still follow the same broad lines with Asha meeting Star and convincing the townspeople to rise up.

Unlike the materialistic wishes that Magnifico can grant with his staff, Star's magic can actually do wondrous things - like, grant an infinite number of wishes, make people magically fall in love with you, bring people back from the dead, etc. Once Amaya gets Star, she plans to dump Magnifico for the better option. As her methodes become more and more extreme to quell the revolutionists and find Star, Magnifico keeps the fragil peace between the revolutionists (who want all the wishes returned to them) and patriots (who are on Amaya's side and believe wishes should be governed). his popularity skyrockets, as people start to respect and see him as more than just a genie in a bottle. in turn, Magnifico becomes more confident.

Amaya becomes furious that the balance in their relationship has shifted. Fearing Magnifico becomes too comfident and will free himself from the abuse, she locks Magnifico up in the highest tower, steals his staff and absorbs the bad/selfish/harmful wishes that Magnifico keeps contained in a seperate vault.

The final battle/climax would then play out almost the same as in the movie: Asha and Star lure the "Queen" in a wild chase scene while her friends free Magnifico.

Magnifico is at his lowest point as Amaya forces all of Rosas, including himself, to its knees with the bad wishes. He is powerless without his staff and equipment to stand up to her. Asha reminds him that "he is a Star!", not because of his magic but because of his good heart.

Magnifico is freed from Amayas magical grip thanks to the belief of Asha and his people. He fuses with Star (think of Rapunzel in the Tangled series, when her eyes and hair glow) to fight Amaya in a sorcerous duel that pays tribute to Merlins duel with Madame Mim. He wins, imprisons her in the Mirror, stores the bad wishes back into the vault and revives the good wishes.

rin the ending, Star grants Magnifico his wish to be a great wizard, giving him the ability to grant powerful wishes like Star. Magnifico then rules as the King of Rosas with Asha as his right hand.

#wish 2023 #king magnifico #wish disney #queen amaya #wish spoilers #asha #magnifico x amaya #rewrite #disney wish #princess asha

222 notes · View notes

shanastoryteller · 1 year

Note

Happy V-Day!!

More Merlin please?

a continuation of 1 2 3

After several questions about the state of Camelot, and receiving confirmation that the castle's former potions master is still here, Ygraine glares at Uther and says, "It seems I'll have to clean up your mess. As usual," before turning on her heel and heading for the stairway.

She pauses, looking back, and says, "Son, come with me."

She doesn't know Arthur's name.

Before Merlin can feel too many ways about that, Arthur is stepping forward and Merlin finds himself following behind because that's what he always does and it's too late to not do it this time.

As soon as Arthur is close enough, Ygraine slips her arm through his as they descend the stairs. "I'm sorry, this must be such a shock to you."

He's silent for a moment, because what on earth is he supposed to say to that, but then Arthur replies, "For you too."

She waves a dismissive hand. "This isn't about me."

Merlin thinks it very much is, but he at least has enough sense not to say that.

Arthur still hasn't come up with a reply by the time they make it to Gaius's rooms. Merlin thinks about shouting out some sort of warning, but before he gets the chance, Ygrain kicks the door open and shouts, "GAIUS! WHERE ARE ALL THE WIZARDS?"

Gaius is standing right there, so no one needed to yell, and he blinks rapidly for several seconds and then says uncertainly, "Your majesty?"

"There are no wizards in Camelot," Arthur says.

Merlin cringes.

Ygraine scoffs. "This is Camelot. Our very land is magic. If there are no sorcerers, she will make them. Killing magic - what shit. He'd have been better off trying to kill sunshine."

"You majesty," Gaius repeats, a tone of respect and ardor Merlin has never heard him have when addressing the king. He goes into a low bow and starts to get on his knees.

"None of that, we don't have time for it," she says, impatiently yanking him upright. "I have to go back to my own time otherwise this land will have no prince, which means I need a sorcerer powerful enough to bend time. Where can I find one?"

Gaius says, "Ah," and then, "Let me consult my old contacts."

He's so screwed.

Ygraine rolls her eyes, easily reading that Gaius is trying to put her off, but says, "Alright, Gaius. That gives me some time to get to know my son."

"Arthur," Merlin says, unable to take it anymore. Everyone looks at him and he swallows before saying, "His name is Arthur."

Ygraine softens, reaching up to run her hand through Arthur's hair. He leans into the touch, he eyes briefly falling closed.

"Arthur," she repeats warmly.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #anon #merlin

614 notes · View notes

crvptidgf · 19 days

Text

Bad Blood • pt. III

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

➸ summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, you find it difficult to let go of the past. Your trauma lies deeper than you think. When when you meet somebody who understands your pain, your journey of self-discovery and healing begins to set sail. For once, everything in your life seems to click.

➸ warnings/notes: reader is of romanian descent, afab! reader, mentions of trauma, descriptions of death and traumatic events, profanity, friends to lovers trope, hurt/comfort, eventual smut (18+), trauma bonding, eventual mutual pining, mentions of the golden trio being dicks for the sake of the story

word count: 2.1k

————————

HALTING MY MOVEMENTS, I felt Mattheo's arm slide away from me. My eyes flicked between his and Ron's eyes.

I steeled myself as I waited with baited breath for somebody to talk first.

I hated always being wary with who I was friends with. No matter if it was a Hufflepuff, Slytherin - whoever. It felt like I always had two sides of myself fighting with each other. I wondered what Hermione thought of me walking side by side with a Riddle.

Merlin. Since when did I care for family reputations?

Ron interrupted the silence. "You coming to lunch with us?"

While I did want to sit with my friends, I also really wanted to go see Enzo again. Theo was a bit annoying, but I enjoyed the other two's company, so I figured I could endure him. My mind was conflicted between my old childhood best friend, and my current friend group.

It didn't help that I was starting to really enjoy being around others like me. Sure Theo was snarky, and Mattheo was a bit cocky, but they understood me a bit better than any of my friends could. Or maybe I was just getting sick of getting left out just because of my house - just because I befriended them too late.

As I've stated, I never truly felt as if I belonged. It wasn't necessarily my friend's fault - but being a Slytherin amongst Gryffindors was hard when everybody blamed your house for the horrors of the war. Sometimes it felt like they were in on some big inside joke that I never understood, and as time went on I realized that I was the butt of it.

To them, I was just a Death Eater waiting to burst out of it's secret shell.

"Me and Mattheo kind of already had plans, sorry. I'll see you guys later tonight though?"

It wasn't necessarily a lie. Enzo did say I could sit with him any time. That counts as having plans, right?

Additionally, Hermione, Ginny, Ron, and Harry invited me to their common room at the end of classes. They had told me on the train that we should visit each other every week to hash out anything new that's happened in our respective classes. Since we didn't share many lessons together anymore we figured that we should have constant hangouts to catch up.

Hermione eyed Mattheo up, a wary look on her face.

"Yeah. See you tonight," she said before pulling Ron away and walking in the opposite direction of us.

I had no idea why she was acting so strange.

I was about to call them back when Mattheo wrapped his arm back around my shoulder and began to drag me to the courtyard. Laughing, I shoved him off of me as his weight was forcing me to lean over in an uncomfortable stance. A stance that made me have to rest my head against his shoulder - not that I minded.

As we sat down on the grass, we waited for the others to arrive. We all had a double class first thing in the morning, so Mattheo texted their groupchat to let them know where we were.

After thinking for a moment, I decided to ask for their numbers. Specifically Mattheo's.

"If we're gonna make this a habit I should probably have your number," I said as I picked at the grass beside me. My eyes looked at anything but him.

Mattheo was leaning back on his elbows. I eventually looked back at him once he didn't respond, only to see him already looking down at me, smiling.

"If you wanted my number you could've just asked," he said cockily.

Rolling my eyes, I leaned back on my elbows next to him.

"Yeah, I just did."

"Touché," he replied as he sat up. He put his hand out as he made a motion. Taking the hint, I gave him my phone. A moment went by, and his number was already in my phone.

I smiled to myself as I added his contact.

"What are you guys so giddy about?" said Enzo as he sat in front of us.

Mattheo and I glanced at each other quickly before looking back at Enzo. He didn't say anything, so I decided to change the topic.

Lunch went by quickly - it was nice to catch up with Enzo finally. Thankfully for me, Theo was hanging out with some other friends. Blaise and Draco I figured. I liked Blaise, he was nice. Draco, however, was a bit of a dick; although I was a bit biased because I was friends with Harry.

I had Herbology and Charms one after another. It felt different than what I was used to, and I found it hard trying to keep track of all the new things we had to learn. I was glad I chose some other easier subjects like Ancient Studies - I always used to read about Ancient civilizations when I was younger.

It was something me and Enzo both loved.

As I walked out of the class, I began to head down to our second lunch. Since I already spent time with my new friends I made the decision to go see Hermione and the others in the Great Hall.

The sound of my text notification sound alerted my attention. Pulling my phone out, I checked who it was.

- - -

Finally finding my friends, I ran and wrapped my arms around Ginny from behind. She made a noise of surprise before pulling me down to her level and hugging me properly.

"Hey! We missed you this morning," she said.

I smiled at her, hugging her back and resting my arm around her shoulder as I adjusted myself on the bench.

"Yeah sorry I-" I tried to say, but Ron butted in, his mouth full of fries.

"She was with that Riddle guy," he said with a muffled voice.

Hermione slapped his shoulder. "Don't talk with your mouth full, Ronald!" she scolded.

Harry and Ginny looked at each other quickly before they continued eating their lunch. Hermione seemed to sense the tension as she folded her arms across her chest, eyeing Ginny up before looking back to me.

"You should watch who you're friends with," she said.

I all but scoffed at her words. Out of all people I thought they would understand the most. Harry had been judged all his life for various reasons; the Weasleys were poked fun at for having trouble with money - and Hermione had always had assumptions made about her just because she was Muggle-born. Who are they to judge someone based off a family name?

Hermione was assuming the worst of him. She didn't even know him.

Well, neither did I. But I knew he wasn't as bad as people made him out to be. He was incredibly good at potions, he had a sense of humour, he seemed nice...

"Seriously?" I responded.

"She's right, you know," quipped Harry. Of course he agreed with her. He always did.

Sometimes I felt like they were all so much closer to each other than I was with them. In reality, it was quite true . They had known each other since they were 11 - their bond was something unbreakable.

I used to think ours was too, until the summer before college came. Until the Battle of Hogwarts happened; and I saw their prejudice against my house. I would never forget the look in their eyes as they watched me and my house mates get shoo'd to the dungeons - their incredulous looks as I made my way back out to help them in the battle. It was like they were shocked I wasn't a Death Eater all along. The feeling of betrayal never left, but they were my friends, so I stuck by them.

I sighed, standing up.

"Whatever. I just thought it would be nice to befriend Slytherins for once," I said.

Ron made a face, grabbing a chicken wing.

"What would you want with those snakes?" he asked, not realizing his mistake.

My nostrils flared as I narrowed my eyes at him. "I'm one of those snakes."

With that, I trudged out of the Great Hall, my heart pounding in my ears. I couldn't even believe what just happened.

Couldn't they just be happy that I was making friends?

- - -

My lips quirked up at my phone as I made my way down the hall, trying to find my next classroom.

At this point I felt like I had learned to just cope with Theo's cynical jokes. I was just glad I still had people to hang out with at school. It seemed like my first day wasn't going to plan - not that I minded.

Now I had time to build my rapport with Enzo.

I truly missed him. I never really noticed how much his absence affected me, but now that we were reunited it felt wrong to just walk away from him. We had a lot of catching up to do.

When dinner finally rolled around I wasted no time in fast-walking to the Great Hall. I ignored the looks from the Gryffindor table, unsure if they were going to be scolding me for sitting next to Enzo and the rest, or offering looks of sympathy for the way they acted earlier.

I didn't really care.

Once I reached the Slytherin table I noticed that a few more people joined us. Pansy and Blaise were there, alongside Draco who didn't really make eye contact with me as I slid next to Enzo.

"Hey," I said, bumping his shoulder.

He smiled at me as he offered to pour me a drink into my goblet.

"You must be Y/N," said Pansy, her elbows leaning on the table as she greeted me with a smile.

She was a bit of a bully back in the day, but she sweetened up immensely once 7th year rolled around. Now that we were in college I assumed she had given up her rude ways; unlike some people who still liked to live in the past - Draco and Theo.

"That I am. It's nice to meet you, Pansy."

Pansy regained her posture as she sat up straight, looking over at Draco. After he said nothing, not even sparing a glance in my direction, she merely slapped him upside the head and rolled her eyes.

This must be normal behavior for him.

As I looked around the table, two absences caught my eye. Both Theo and Mattheo were missing.

"Where's the rest?" I whispered to Enzo so as to not interrupt the conversation flowing throughout the table.

"Oh. They're off somewhere - probably smoking," he shrugged. "Wanna tell me what happened with the Potter gang?"

My lips quirked at the nickname. I had heard my fair share of weird nicknames for the little Golden group of Hogwarts, but that was a first.

"I'll tell you tomorrow. Let's just have our dinner.”

I didn't want to bring the mood down by mentioning the fact that my friends thought Enzo and his buddies were bad news. He felt enough guilt as it is, there was no need to bring up bad memories by reminding him that some people still believed they were secretly Death Eaters.

My mind felt stuck. Stuck between my two personalities, my two families. Before all of this Voldemort nonsense Enzo was my only friend - he was like a brother to me.

Sure, Enzo could've grown into an entirely different person now. But in my mind he was still just the scared little 13 year old that didn't want to lose his best friend - and I was still the girl who broke our friendship. All because of a misunderstanding.

I needed to mend our relationship. I needed the closure so that I could finally move on from what happened that day.

Sometimes I could still hear his words ringing through my brain.

"I didn't want this. I didn't want any of this."

Shaking my head, I diverted my train of thought back to the feast before me. I just hoped that one day I could look at myself in the mirror and not see regret and fear seeping from my features anymore.

74 notes · View notes

the-flowerwolf · 1 year

Text

Hogwarts legacy headcanons

While normal people go and socialize I wake up and think about ✨them✨

So there's some headcanons about my favourite Legacy Team (as I call them) for ya folks while I'm writing a really big fic about them. Careful, some of them are sad. And don't mind my poor grammar thanks.

Btw, collages are mine, feel free to use them💙

🐍Sebastian Sallow🐍

First off all, if you turn him in, I don't trust you

Literally a typical Slytherin

A nerd. Just a nerd.

Quidditch? Babe, the only sport for him is dueling

Felt absolutely helpless when his parents died. And that's why he's so protective. He just can't let anyone else die on his watch

Really is a small version of his father and proud of it

Believes that the end justifies the means

Hopeless flirt BUT a gentleman. Wouldn't do anything you don't like

And also most probably believes in true love

A proud bisexual

Everyone think that "he fucks everything that moves" but he's a virgin who "saves himself for the one and only"

As some fan said, he was probably born on 18th September. And it's a canon now.

A great friend but a terrible secret keeper, so for Merlin's sake, don't tell him ANYTHING

Knows how to braid hair into the most complex ways

Pro feminist! Treats women right and knows all important stuff thanks to his sis

🔥Natty Onai🔥

I'm sorry but she's so underrated and for what??

I believe she really respect traditions she were tought as a child

Her favourite holiday must be her birthday. All because it was the only day of the year when her parents forgot about all the dangers and sorrows and they just got together, spending the best time

Most probably will return to the homeland after Hogwarts

Is the only member of the team who play quidditch

(as a keeper ofc)

She's a lesbian idk dudes

A very honest girl who were raised to be a good person

So she just expects the same from others

A very competitive. But not like Imelda. Natty respects fair competition and knows how to honorably recognize a match

Although this does not mean that she will not destroy you to win

Is always cold poor thing

Religious bc I feel like it

Has mommy issues and don't tell me I'm wrong

Will definitely become the best auror one day

🌼Poppy Sweeting🌼

Her favourite holiday is Christmas lemme tell you that

Trust issues

She's trying her best to be gentle with every living being because she saw too much violence already

And that's why she thinks animals are better than people (agree)

She's definitely an INFP and I won't change my mind

Looks like a cinnamon roll but will kill you

A cliché but I feel like she's an excellent cook

Although she would LOVE to find someone to understand her (like us) she's totally okay with being on her own

Is into mind games like chess

But will go to see a quidditch game just to support Natty (and mc if they play)

Is always up to an adventure

Bullies? Girl grew up among killers, you really think she would care about some bullies?

I feel like she has the strongest personality in here. Doesn't matter what happens she will always stand straight while helping others

Is a cat person

Can't cry bc she was not allowed as a child

💚Ominis Gaunt💚

Just an innocent little boy let's be honest

He may look like he can kill you but he's just a cinnamon roll

Jokes about his blindness as a defence mechanism

Had a crush on both Sallow siblings at some point and I can't blame him

Saw a theory on tiktok that his patronus would be albino snake. CANON

Just wants to have a simple quiet life without any drama

Protective of his friends BUT is more protective of his boundaries

Don't mind his blindness he knows EXACTLY how to be a fashion icon

Another cliché: Omi can play piano

And it's the only thing his parents tought him that he loves. Playing helps him to calm down

Is very private, but as soon as he starts to trust you, he will immediately blurt out his life story, dreams, fears etc

Though he can't see an actual game, Omi likes to go on a quidditch game, because of the happy energy around him

Is sick most of the time for some reason. Cold, stomach ache or anything really

Also a nerd. But unlike Sebastian he's a fiction lover. Helps him to escape reality, especially in his family's house

Clingy with everyone he loves bc they make him feel safe

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #poppy sweeting #natty onai #headcanon

427 notes · View notes

anika-ann · 10 months

Text

Pomiluj me (Love Me Tender) - S.R.

Type: medieval/fantasy/fairy tale AU; standalone (NOT a part of this medieval AU)

Pairing: knight Steve Rogers x reader Word Count: 10k 😁 best possible division if needed is at the first divider

Summary: Knight Steven Rogers and his brothers in arms are returning home after having tackled an unruly creature terrorizing the people of Starkerbürg. Upon encountering an injured woman, Steven offers to bring her – carry her, truly – back to her home. How could he deserve a knighthood if he left a woman in distress to her fate, after all?

But not everything it as it seems. And love blooms in the most unlikely of places.

Warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, unprotected sex (shocking in medieval times huh), bit of angst, tons of fluff, himbo knights in BBC Merlin style (long live the legends), knight Steve ‘cause he’s a warning, Slovak language ‘cause I can

A/N: Title from the song which inspired the story, Pomiluj mě (Love on Me/Love Me Tender)...tumblr cannot handle an “ě “in their title 🙃 Lyrics, translation and link here, you’ll find a few lines in the fic as well - truly recommend. DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics

A/N/2: AO3 says this is my 100th work (as posted here anyway) and I’m brushing 1,680k of words written according to the counter. Which… whoa. And it’s almost six years since I first posted a marvel fic 🥺 Enjoy!

Alone, you only wander in the dark Chased by the cold I shall light up the torch you’re guarding

Should I be worried about you That all you do is take When are you coming back to me?

The cavalry moved rather slowly.

The noble men appeared a far cry from the polished image known from books, even as they had attempted to wash in a river. They reeked of battle, smoke and blood still; and the drying blood in their wounds was just as red as that of ordinary men, the scent of sweat and fear having seeped into their clothes and armour. And yet, their vests carried the sigil of Starkerbürg with pride, signaling the knights’ dedication to the protection of their kingdom.

With only horse left, they truly might make a pitiful sight, certain weariness to their step; but an air of victory and camaraderie made for a picture of life instead. Laughter sounded between the group, a joke thrown around here and there, a tease about a wound each of them suffered, particularly the youngest one. Despite those, true concern for their new friend, Sir Parker, could be read in their eyes. He was the youngest to ever been dubbed in the history of Starkerbürg; it was no wonder the good men assigned him the role he would have played had the bond they shared been one of a blood family. The youngest of brothers was as much made fun of as protected, since he was eager to prove he deserved the honour to ride with the knights of Starkerbürg just like any other. Now he sat on the horse in front of Sir Barton, the eldest, as they made their way back after successfully ridding the kingdom of a horrific creature: the chimera had been believed to only exist in old tales until it brought terrible and painfully real suffering to the people of the west of the kingdom and so the king’s loyal servants were tasked to ride at dawn five days ago.

“Alright, alright, let us leave the poor lad,” Sir Barton said, patting the young Sir Parker on his shoulder a little too hard. “He shall do better next time.”

Peter smiled over his shoulder gratefully, having started to feel not humbled, but humiliated.

“Yes, yes, we should let him be,” Sir Maximoff agreed, side-eyeing the two riders mischievously. “We should talk about how you moved like an old lady.”

The collective ooooooh and chuckles might have as well come from a group of children, rather than grown men, causing Sir Barton to glare at the cheeky lad he called a friend.

“Old ladies are wise and worth of respect, Maximoff. You could learn a thing or two from them, as you had learned from me,” he scoffed, feigning offence. “Do not forget who taught you how to swing a sword, kiddo.”

“There is a point in what Clint is saying,” Sir Wilson hummed good-naturedly, raising his eyebrow at Pietro in challenge.

“Maybe. Does not change the fact he’s grown seven years older since then, while I have grown seven years more mature.”

The explosion of laughter following his statement was louder this time.

“In your dreams, maybe,” Sir Barnes snorted, elbowing his best of friends, Sir Rogers. “About as mature as this one was when he used to pick his battles with guys twice his size, eh?”

Sir Rogers, Steven to most, only smirked, speaking up for the first time in a while, since his thoughts were far far away. “Should we get technical, we all took up on an enemy twice our size only yesterday morning.”

“Oh?” Sir Barton feigned surprise. “Listen to the guy. He might tell you what brought the monster to its knees next – an arrow straight to its eye. Remind me, Maximoff, whose crossbow it was that fired it?” he asked pointedly, grinning down at the man walking by their horse, earning an eyeroll.

“Did it even have knees?” Sir Lang questioned, “All I know is that it was a nasty, nasty thing.”

“Nastier than Hydra? Cut off one had, two shall takes its place? I truly believed that was only a legend…” Sir Wilson said, a visible shiver of disgust shaking him.

“Not sure we can compare the two… maybe Barnes or Rogers could, huh?” Sir Maximoff suggested.

Steven’s face darkened; he did indeed remember the hydra creature very well for it nearly cost his best friend his arm. The scars still littered Bucky’s skin, from the back of his hand all the way up to his shoulder; Gods had blessed him enough that his ability to use his arm remained intact, even as its appearance did not.

As for the strange chimera they had slayed yesterday… it was true that Steven had gotten more familiar with it then he would have liked. He could recall it with uncomfortable clarity: its foul breath smelling of death on his face, feeling as if it had seeped deep into his very bones when he had finally thrusted his sword through its heart. He could still hear the clang of teeth near his neck, a near death sentence.

No, he would rather not compare the two. He would rather not think of either of the creatures at all.

“Why us, Maximoff? Because I nearly lost my arm to the former and my best friend to latter? No thanks,” Sir Barnes hissed, face turning ashen as well.

Steven instinctively reached for his friend, squeezing his arm, casting a concerned glance as he was torn away from his own dark memories.

“Buck…”

“Are you jesting? Sir Rogers was incredible,” Sir Parker cried out excitedly, having four of the knights groan, for Steven’s bravery – or idiocy, should anyone ask Sir Barnes, truly – was all the youngest knight had been talking about for the majority of their journey, causing Steven’s cheeks redden under his beard, sense of pride and satisfaction battling the terror of the memory. As for the remaining knights, well; while they did not diminish Steven’s important contribution of delivering the fatal blow, they had grown annoyed at the constant babble.

“Sure he was, kiddo.”

“Oh yes. They should probably knight him. Oh wait-“ Sir Wilson said, causing the men to laugh.

“Yeah, a set of deadly teeth perhaps three inches from his throat? Let him have all the glory and Princess Morgana’s hand too,” Sir Barnes grumbled, sending his friend both a proud and irked glance.

A sudden rustle of leaves and a woman’s yelp followed by a thud caused them all fall silent and turnbattle-ready in a split second, snapping in the direction of noise.

However, there was little need for caution. Their intruder barely appeared dangerous: the peasant woman observed them with wide eyes and forehead scrunched in pain, blossoms of common elder, spilled all around her like precious silks of a gown instead of the worn fabric of the simple shirt, shawl and ankle-length skirt, speaking thousand words of what she had been doing until she had fallen. Her fingers were clutching at her left foot, a clear sign of her ungraceful landing. The tree was by no means tall, but that should not mean the fall was what they could call comfortable.

For a moment, the group of knights stood frozen, rendered speechless as much as the poor woman who found herself face to face with not one but seven of the crown’s most loyal servants.

Steven, perhaps the kindest of them all, was the first to snap from the shock of an unexpected disturbance of their journey, releasing the grip on his sword, never having drawn it from its sheath. He took several long strides to the young woman, instantly capturing her attention.

“My lady, are you quite alright?” Steven inquired, gently as he realized his large frame, accentuated by his armour, might intimidate the poor sweetling.

And yet. Just as the question left his lips and his gaze met hers, he was the one rendered mute all of sudden.

Steven had never seen anyone more clearly, he was certain; and just as sure he was of the fact that no woman could ever hope to encompass sincerity and beauty in her eyes only as the one he was facing at the moment.

Her smile was but a shy little thing, pain masked by gratitude for the knight’s care. He was a handsome one, of robust built but with delicate lines to his face, bright blue irises with a speckle of green, plush lips framed by a short beard; distantly, she imagined his wide shoulders would barely fit the doorframe of her cabin – of her hut, truly. She found the imagery enticing, almost as much as the gentle tone he had spoken with despite his giant frame.

“’Quite aright’ seems accurate, sir. I am not hurting much beyond my left ankle,” she admitted, even as her source of discomfort was evident from her hand still covering the affected area.

Steven’s brows furrowed slightly in worry, yet he made no move, spoke no words, even as his lips parted. Instead, his eyes roamed the woman’s face, searching and fascinated. It was the silence which prompted his comrades to enter the interaction.

“Do you think you can walk?” Sir Wilson asked as he stepped forward – a movement barely acknowledged as the woman did not shift her gaze from Steven still.

“Wobble, perhaps,” she said, the corners of her lips briefly turning downwards. “Could perhaps one of you assist me? I should be most grateful for your chivalry.”

Sir Barnes could scoff at the absurdity of her wording; even as she suggested she would welcome anyone’s aid, her fixation on Steven was ridiculously evident. It almost scared him, how steadily she watched him; even as ladies’ interest in his best friend’s company had increased significantly along with how Steven’s muscles had grown, the way this woman observed him… unsettling him for some reason.

“Oh! We should borrow you the horse for a while-“ Sir Parker – bless him, the youngest and the purest of heart of them all – cried out, soon silenced by a more sombre voice of reason of Sir Barnes.

“Kid, you lose your leg should you put your weight on it now. Believe me, I have almost lost my arm to the same foolishness.”

“…oh.”

“Well, I suppose one of us should support you and walk you to your home,” Sir Barton suggested nonchalantly, preparing to dismount the horse. “The most experienced one of us, perhaps?”

“Truly? Is that so, Clinton?” Sir Wilson questioned as he eyed him, his tone carrying wryness of a man who would not care for nonsense – unless it was one that could earn him a great deal of fun. “Why you?”

“I have a pair of very well-working eyes for one,” the older man uttered, causing sir Maximoff to snicker silently.

“So do I and yet I would never offer!” Sir Lang opposed as soon as he understood the meanings behind Sir Barton’s words. “Must we remind you how inappropriate that would be, since you have a lovely wife and three kids at home?”

“And a knee that knows a rain is coming at least two sunsets ahead?” Sir Barnes added for honestly, the foolishness of Sir Barton’s idea battled the one of the youngling’s.

“Ugh, alright then. Spoilsports.”

Sir Maximoff, unsurprisingly, grinned and shrugged as he stepped forward. “Ah, well, fellas, it seems-“

“I can do it. I can even carry her.”

Sir Barnes sighed, an involuntary reaction to best of comrades choosing this moment to snap from his reverie. Speaking of foolishness.

Not once had Steven’s gaze left the beautiful woman since the very moment he had laid his eyes on her, almost as if he was drawn by ancient power whose pull not even his virtuous heart could resist. The pull had been literal too; while the movements had been subtle, step by step Steven inched closer to the woman, now standing barely three feet from her, way too close even as he had been the first to spring forward.

Sir Barnes would be amazed and certainly more than amused at his friend’s antics, had it not been for the fact the scene was as fascinating as disconcerting. For a myriad of reasons. Beginning with-

“You are injured as well,” Sir Wilson noted pointedly.

Sir Wilson appeared to be the only of the men aside from Sir Barnes who had not lost all reason in the midst of all of them having acquired an expression of awe and smugness. In all fairness, the reaction of the knights was nothing short of understandable, for Steven, Sir Rogers, who had kept from many women who had been rather literally battling for his attention, seemed enamoured all of sudden. And of all creatures, enamoured by a beautiful, yet the most ordinary of women. He appeared if not utterly lost to the fabled love at first sight, then certainly lost enough to abandon all reason.

“Oh no, if you are severely injured, I could not possibly-“ the woman resisted, gathering her skirt in attempt to stand up as if to prove she was considerably less inconvenienced by absence of aid than it had originally appeared.

Naturally, her efforts were doomed to failure – and just as naturally, Steve had been there to catch her, promptly supporting her weight. She had barely caught herself, one palm flat against his chest, the other on his bicep, lips parted in silent surprise; and much to the amusement of all knights, in awe of his strength.

Sir Rogers was certainly not the only one of the pair who appeared smitten.

“Thank you, good Sir.”

“Sir Steven Rogers, my lady. I should be happy to aid you,” he pronounced, the words ‘with anything’ unsaid but clearly implied as he helped her straighten up as much as her own injury allowed. “I have not been injured severely. Worry not.”

Needless to say, Sir Barnes would argue; bruised ribs, several cuts, more so when one of them sat right above his brow, should be considered severe enough not to carry a woman in his arms… particularly when these injuries were coupled with a heavy blow to the head. Before, Sir Barnes had not been sure how strong of a hit Steven had taken, but now, seeing how absent of any common sense Steven was-

Ah. His best friend was being quite himself, now that Sir Barnes thought of it.

“…so we are to ignore there are at least three better candidates whose ribs are not bruised or-“ Peter muttered in low voice to his companions, all but earning a warning slap to his healthy leg as Sir Lang gently shushed him, himself charmed by the romantic ballad-worthy scene in front of them.

“Seeing as she does, I suppose we do too,” Sir Maximoff scoffed lowly, tilting his head to side as he observed his comrade, suddenly frowning, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And so does he. Is he alright? He looks… strange. Has any of you put something in his water?”

“You are saying this as if you were not as miffed about him being chosen by her as I am,” Sir Barton huffed, sourness turning into humour at the other man’s misery.

Pietro’s gaze torn away from the pair, their downright love-sick gazes suddenly difficult to watch; it almost felt as if by looking at them, they were prying on an intimate moment. Pietro thought it curious, for he had never had any issues of laughing loud at the displays of affection his fellow knights had offered in the Tower tavern for everyone to see, but he did not want to examine it too hard. He could find joy elsewhere once they had made it to the city, with no shortage of ladies no doubt willing to offer comfort to the heroes of Starkerbürg.

“He is one lucky bastard,” he sighed, patting the horse’s neck, preparing to take off.

“And lucky he might get…” Sir Wilson sing-sang quietly, causing the group to laugh as their gazes once again appreciated the almost palpable spark between the unlikely couple, exchanging knowing glances as the woman gasped when Steven sneaked his arms under her knees and back, lifting her into his arms with ease despite his gear weighting him down.

“Alright, it is settled. We are certain you are safe with Sir Rogers…” Sir Barton called out, entirely ignored by the pair who instead kept observing one another without as much as a blink, as if they could not bear losing even a fraction of the precious time they were given. “For he is-- they are not even listening to me, are they? No one cares about me anymore, I truly must be getting old-”

Sir Barnes sighed again, realization dawning to him; one he should never share with his companions, but one he would for certain inquire about later when Steven returned to the castle.

“We shall move then,” he muttered, beckoning others towards the road, not before sparing the couple a last slightly disapproving glance.

He feared not for his most precious friend’s safety; he only feared for his heart, too big even for the impressive size his body had grown into since his early days as a weakling. At the moment, it was his mind Bucky feared for, since it almost seemed feeble under a spell of a beautiful woman. A spell no one dared to break.

As the group walked away, each of their steps was uncharacteristically silent; until they believed to reach enough of a distance to have a boisterous laugh about Sir Rogers no doubt to be rewarded for his chivalry. The sound bothered not the pair as they smiled at each other softly, the woman’s thumb brushing over Steven’s sternum, covered by worn chainmail.

The simple touch seemed to reach his soul; his breathing, having already eased since he had first caught her, cleared completely, the ache in his bones gone. The woman’s smile widened, silently prompting Steven to start walking. He was not one to hesitate, his feet moving almost of their own volition.

“You are not obliged to carry me,” she said, a teasing note lacing her gentle voice. “I slowed the landing enough. It is nothing but a bruise.”

Steven shook his head, appearing as if he was barely holding back a grin. “But I must, my lady. It is my duty as a knight of Starkerbürg.”

She pursed her lips, one corner lifting in a smirk.

“Oh? Is it so, my good sir? Hm... speaking of knights of Starkerbürg, Sir Rogers,” she emphasized, a playful spark appearing in her eye, “your friends act like children.”

Undignified for a knight for certain – yet who was he to diminish the already scraped reputation of men who truly unsubtly jested about him taking advantage of the very woman in distress he was to help – Steven snorted.

“Don’t I know it.”

“But Samuel might not be wrong…“ she said, voice equally full of amusement and promise. “Set me down, Steven. You must be tired.”

Tired he was not. Not ever since he had met the woman’s eyes moments ago and recognized their beauty and depth as familiar. But who was he to deny a lady?

And a lady she was, for all she was and was not. They might have jested about it together, but in Steven’s mind, she was precisely that and nothing less, no matter what any half-wit of this kingdom would think. Slowly, he lowered her back to her feet, his heart thundering in his ribcage in anticipation as he focused on the sounds surrounding them.

Content with only gentle whisper of the wind and songs of robins for a company, his worn hands cradled the woman’s cheeks, thumbs brushing over her cheekbones, heart trembling when she leaned into his touch, her lips brushing his palm.

In return, the tips of her fingers ghosted over his brow, the nasty cut closing at once, without a single sting of pain. She focused on that aspect often, even as she knew he would try and not as much as flinch for her benefit, much like he had not when she healed his ribs earlier.

“Thank you. They must be far enough now, I am sure,” he whispered, stepping closer so their bodies aligned and nearly merged in one. “Do not hide from me, bosorka moja. Let me see you, beautiful.”

Her smile turned a little coy, even as her soul sang at his sweet words. Steven was quite a master of compliments; but not a shameless flirt or a rake. What he said always came from heart; that beautiful, beautiful heart he had sworn belonged to her and never made her question it despite their situation.

“As you wish, good sir,” she whispered, fingertips sliding down his cheekbone, repairing the darkening bruising in their wake, before she turned focus on her own transformation. “Close your eyes, love, release me for just a moment.”

With a sigh of disappointment – but eager to oblige – Steven lifted his hands an inch, missing the lovely heat under his touch at once, and let his eyes slide close. Soft light caressed his skin, flickering behind his closed eyelids as her features shifted, her cloaking spell dispersing.

Steven did not fight the smile tugging at his lips as he allowed himself to open his eyes again just as the glow was dying out, welcomed by the sight of his beloved in her true face. The spell she had casted changed her features but a bit, only enough to protect her from those who would still hunt her upon mere suspicion of her being a magical creature. She appeared just as human as before; but should a half-wit still nursing grudges against magic even century and half since its dark side caused people to suffer ever recognize her as anything else… Steven did not wish to imagine what hell would have been raised; even as it would have been one he would fight to death against.

Indeed, she appeared human even in her true form to most, Steven assumed. Yet, to him, she appeared almost ethereal; she always had. From the very moment she had walked into his life and took his world by gentle storm, slowly nursing him back to health day by day from multiple wounds which would have been his doom. She had risked her own life in process, revealing her talents to anyone, let alone a knight of Starkerbürg, but for a good deed, she had barely even hesitated.

Beautiful, powerful, brave and endlessly kind; and now, by the blessing of gods, even as Steven failed to be a proper gentleman, his.

He let his fingers slide into her hair, tilting her face up to feast his eyes on her features, heart humming pleasantly as only a person who owned it could make it hum.

It was clearer than the skies that she felt just the same. Drawing him close, not waiting for his prompting, she rose to her tiptoes and brushed his lips with hers, sweet and healing. No cut was there for her to fix, but it appeared that whenever she kissed him, even with no magic involved as she had claimed, Steven’s often weary soul was lifted.

He followed her lips, earning a hearty chuckle but no protest, a hand on his nape as her fingers curled in his hair as well.

“Bosorka moja,” he said softly against her lips before tasting them again, greedy for every stolen moment, every stolen kiss she was willing to give him.

And she would give him a lifetime, much like he would give his own to her.

But there was not a single reason to do it right where they stood. One more peck to his lips and she escaped his arms sneakily, only to grab at his hand with both of hers, tugging him down the now familiar path.

“Come, rytier moj.”

And so he followed her, without a word of protest. He would follow his heart anywhere.

Their destination was by no means far, they were in no rush. Unbeknownst to Sir Barnes, his thoughts had been precisely on point – the pair of lovers cherished every moment spent together, may it be walking with purpose or wandering.

This day, they chose the former, the hut soon appearing in a barely-there clearing among the trees. Steve’s lips curled in a smile on instinct as despite the humble outside state of the tiny house, he knew what he would find upon entering with his love and lover by his side. A home. Not only hers; theirs. A safe space for their love.

As soon as they entered, the air smelling of herbs and dried meadow flowers, ones he had picked and gifted her the last time he had escaped his knight-bound duties, hit his nostrils and widened his smile. It was met with her own, soft and welcoming, heartbreakingly beautiful; ache echoed in his heart, its emptiness present for the past few days without her suddenly dissolving into nothing.

He brought her hand to his lips, a gentle kiss to her knuckles before releasing her, so they could begin their routine.

From the mountains Wind, dust and defiance is rising I lay your armour to your feet Don’t let my skin get cold at night

Wind from the mountains

Wind, dust and defiance is rising I lay my armour to your feet Don’t let my skin get cold at night

You made your way to the pot, a simple curl of your wrist lighting up a fire to heat the water for tea. Steven’s gaze followed you as he stood by the door, blindly unclasping his belt, putting away his sword and chainmail. He had no need for weapons nor armour in his home; vulnerability in this house was no sign of weakness, but one of strength. It was a privilege he took upon proudly as you were blissfully aware.

Then, you ruminated through your dried herbs in search of chamomile and lavender, even as you knew the exact placement of every single item; once you heard Steven lose his armour and step forward, you looked over your shoulder, offering an unassuming smile – despite assuming quite a lot from the many encounters you had shared before.

“Tea, my love?”

Like clockwork, like the most beautiful habit, you barely got the chance to speak the question before he stood behind you, fingers cradling your chin, angling your head further to meet your lips again, an indulgent smile tasting indulgent smile as neither of you ever believed a tea was to be served. Not yet at least.

Where your first shared kiss after days of being apart tasted of longing, relief and soft smiles, this one tasted of feelings much more primal. Your breath hitched in the briefest surprise at the intensity, yet you responded in earnest, shifting to accommodate his large body, your hands finding purchase of his broad shoulders as soon as you spun around. He rewarded your cooperation with enthusiasm; you yielded to his force with a breathy laugh once he allowed you to retrieve the air he so lovingly stole from your lungs.

“No tea then?”

A hand previously grasping at your hips wrapped around your back to pull you to his chest, three steps leading you to walk backwards until your back brushed the makeshift table, Steven’s lips as urgent as sweet, his beard scratching at your sensitive skin, each breath tickling your lips.

“Would rather drink from your lips, love,” he whispered to your mouth, the only chance for both of you to breathe in before his lips returned. His hold tightened to ground you against his advances, trapping you in a cage of love you could have easily escaped should you wish; yet, you only withdrew for a moment, a cheeky retort on your tongue as your need for him grew with every touch.

“That could be arranged, I believe.”

Glancing up, you were met with his darkened eyes, his hand firm as he held onto your jaw; and yet, his thumb caressed your skin gently, the desire blending into softness and amusement at your bold demeanour. You lifted one corner of your lips in a smirk, gasping when his mouth possessed yours again, teeth tugging at your lower lip, his arm still holding onto your waist – the only thing keeping you from practically laying on the table, his hips pining yours against the hard surface, fingers squeezing your flesh.

Now there was a thought; Steve’s weight rendering you weightless as he’d coax peak after peak from your body laid on the dark wood as an offering to Gods at an altar…

The very thought, however, was fast to dissolve as Steven’s hips rocked into yours, allowing you to feel the outline of his burning need, having you clutch at his shirt as friction teased your throbbing core. He swallowed the needy noise he elicited from your lips, fingers slipping under your shirt, thumb pressing into your skin just above your hipbone as to guide your movements.

You shuddered upon his lips travelling down the column of your throat, teeth grazing skin alongside the hem of your shirt above your collarbone; your hands began their own quest over the hard planes of his body, appreciative of his truly impressive physique. Steven’s fingers roamed as well, caressing and squeezing, your given name but a breathy whisper when his fingertips stroked the underside of your breasts.

You nearly missed his words due to the blissful sensation, but you had heard the silent plea spoken so many times before there was no mistaking it.

“Dance for me, my love?”

Your swollen lips curled in a playful smile as his fingers carded through your hair, kiss brushing your cheek and jaw and finally your mouth again.

“Oh? Is that what you wish for, lover mine?”

His gaze followed the patterns his fingertips whispered over your face as if they were brushes painting the most precious canvas, a curious contradiction to his eager kisses and hardness.

“Would you hold it against me?” he inquired in a hushed voice, stealing yet another kiss from your waiting lips, his nose gently caressing yours before his gaze bore into yours with intensity again, “that I wish to see something so beautiful and so alive after a battle?”

The amusement slipped from your face, features softening as your heart sored at the subtle confession. The knights of Starkerbürg were full of jest and gestures so great they might border on insanity when situation allowed it. Their bravery was a thing of legends, as much of a legend as the thing you knew they had gone to fight days ago and were only now returning, having bested a mythical creature much more vicious and deadly than yourself, crushing life with not more than one bite to a man’s flesh.

Yet, for all their heroism, even knights, even the most precious of them all – even your Steven – felt the disarming fear of death itself, cruel and all too powerful. You would be always be more than willing to remind him of the power of life for a change, until you’d release yours with your last breath.

Ad so the answer was no – no, you would not hold it against him, whatever he would ask. Never him.

Standing on your tiptoes, framing his face with your hands, his whiskers and already messy hair ticking your palms, you told him as much, sealing your deal with a kiss.

Easing his grip, he allowed you to push against chest, easily giving in as you lead him to walk backwards until his calves hit the frame of your bed. He sat down obediently and you leaned into him, stealing another brief peck.

“Please, bosorka moja,” he pleaded once more as your forehead touched his, taking a moment to breathe him in, reminding yourself that both you indeed were still alive; and thus, such victory should be celebrated with joys life itself provided. “Dance for me, my love.”

Smiling, you placed a finger over his lips to shush him at last, gliding several steps back, mischief appearing in your eyes as his own followed your every movement hungrily, more so when you slipped out of your shawl, the shirt far from brushing the waist of the skirt suddenly hanging low on your hips, providing Steve with a silver of skin of your stomach.

There was no music but the howl of the wind carrying the occasional note by chaffinches and dunnocks and rustles of leaves. Yet, an old old melody echoed in your heart, guiding your movements and filling you with power and confidence of all witches that came before you and enchanted men into giving away their kingdom without as much as a fleeting thought, surrendering their strength and their hearts, all that only to be blessed with a single sinful glance, a single touch of magic as old as humanity itself. For a single drop of passion.

You could feel it fill the air, the longing and thirst for life and body, your lover’s eyes turning dark, hypnotized by the simple swirls of your wrists above your head, at your sides, following every slide of the back of your hands over your ribs, over your bare skin, his visceral need to replace your touch with his own. Drinking in but the smallest motions of your hips, breath hitching at the briefest tilt of your head back or to side, his lips tingling to attach themselves to the exposed skin of your throat, to taste, to suck a bruise. The force with which his fists curled into themselves seemed to ignite sparkles in the air, bringing a sensual smile to your lips as you let your eyes slip shut, feeling the energy hum louder when you moved closer; a sweet thunder within you, within Steve, all around you.

The thud of Steve’s knees on the floor came with his hands grasping your hips; needy but not firm, only to feel the slow movements of your hips and allow you to continue swinging freely. You released a breath, head tipping backwards as Steve’s hot lips found the now burning skin of your stomach, nosing his way up an inch at a time, beard tickling, an open-mouthed kiss following and causing you to shudder – with pleasure, with overwhelming power.

“Steven-“

“Keep dancing, bosorka moja,” he hummed into your skin with a pleased smile, teeth grazing over your belly button as if to distract you from his rough but deft fingers slipping under the waist on your skirt, inching it lower and lower until it hit the floor. Cold air brushed over your bare core, Steven’s lips trailing to the junction of your thigh, his smile growing wicked. “I shall help you dance.”

The very first flicker of his tongue over your pearl had you stutter in your movements, a whimper leaving your lips as Steven’s fingers dug deep into your flesh of your sides and thighs, a wordless warning not to cease the dance he had pleaded for. With a shudder of a breath, you willed yourself to continue, naturally rocking onto his hot tongue as it swept over your weeping core with indulgence, stars flashing behind your closed eyelids at the contrast of the slick muscle to the scrapes his beard left behind.

“Steven-“

“Shhh,” your lover whispered, the sound gentle and teasing at once, the pleasant vibration against your sensitive flesh causing your fingers to find way into his hair and grip, only earning another appreciative hum. “Keep dancing, love.”

And so you did. Leaning into the affection so willingly offered, you succumbed to a different kind of dance. Fingers flexing in Steven’s hair upon a particularly smart swirl of his tongue, breathless praise, calls to Gods and desperate pleas for more more more spilling from your lips. Meeting his ministrations without shame; guiding him, opening up for him as the liquid fire of pleasure spread through your veins, turning into an inferno when you found your thigh on his shoulder, completely out of your doing, an instinct to chase relief – but thoroughly appreciated as Steven’s arm circled your bottom, pulling you impossibly close and loving you deep enough to set you on fire entirely.

You let the primal hunger consume you as you climbed to your peak, crying out when you reached it, head spinning from the intensity; waves of bliss washed over you, body pliant and relaxed. You shrieked when you suddenly found yourself losing your footing, for a brief moment frustratingly empty and cold; and then you were spread on the table, your lover’s lips wrapped around your bundle of nerves, burning blue gaze swallowed by lust firmly set on your face as two thick fingers entered you, latching onto the last aftershocks of your peak. You reached a second high with dizzying speed, unable to tear your gaze away from your giving – and so, so wicked – lover. Gods could possess you at that moment and you would have not felt as if you ascended to such heights as you had while indulging on Earthly pleasures with him.

A soft trail of kisses and pets soothed you as you came down, a breathless chuckle bleeding into a sob when you noticed few of your possessions floating in the air, your magic quite literally having exploded outside of you.

Steven’s lips curled into a smile against your jaw and then you were tasting your essence – as well his much-satisfied grin – on your tongue, revelling in the warm weight of his body covering yours. It seemed your Steven had a few magic tricks up his sleeve too, mind-reading being one of them. You smiled into the kiss, using your grip on his hair to pull him even closer. He could never be close enough; and as he stood between your spread legs, his hard bulge brushing against your bare core, his lips and hands eager, you were certain he felt just the same.

“So beautiful for me,” he whispered to your mouth before retreating, darkened eyes sparkling with lust and pride as well as affection.

“And yours,” you hummed, fingers raking through his beard appreciatively, chuckling when fresh hunger flashed in his pupils. Oh how possessive your knight could be… how much joy it brought you to tease him. “Should I show you?”

A breathy yes was your only answer and so you gripped his shirt, using the fabric for leverage to you sit up. You kissed him again, hands sliding under his garments, gliding over his stomach, your magic flowing freely and healing whichever injuries you had missed earlier.

Easily ridding him of his shirt and pants in between sweet encounters of lips and shedding your clothes as well, you wrapped your legs around his waist, a faint whisper of ‘bed’ enough to have him pick you up without protest; on contrary, with quite the enthusiasm since his hardness throbbed when you led him to sit down with you in his lap.

“Missed you… love you… need you,” you confessed, his breathy voice echoing your sentiments as your lips brushed over every patch of his skin in reach, fingers wrapping around him and guiding him inside you, bliss surrounding you both when you finally sank yourself down his length in one fluid movement.

You rested your forehead against his and simply breathed, living in the moment of utter bliss; a different kind, not the almost primitive one, no, not the wild one. This moment belonged to serenity. Sharing air and warmth with your lover, tender hands appreciating the wide planes of his muscles, strength radiating from flesh and soul alike. And love. Always love.

As if he was able to read your mind once more, his lips sought out yours, a declaration of love indeed, simple, honest and unyielding. His thumb gently traced the pattern of your tattoo, its ink reaching from behind your ear over the side on your neck, a swirl over your left collarbone and spreading over your shoulder. I love you as you are, for all you are, his touch whispered even as no sound left his lips. And even if you felt no shame for your nature, your Steven’s acceptance caressed your soul as did his diligence; not once he had forgotten his ritual of reminding you that with him, your existence was not merely tolerated – but adored and celebrated. When you first understood the significance of this habit of his, tears had stung your eyes, kissed away before they could roll down your cheeks.

“Ľúbim ťa,” you had breathed out then, a love confession in the old language, and ever since, you had not failed to say it once in response to his gesture.

Then, rough fingertips carefully followed the line of a fine silver chain carrying a tear-shaped indigo sapphire, a token of affection usually hidden from plain sight, protected; a promise of faithfulness even as you remained unwed. You had no need for gemstones, but you understood its importance, the significance of the gesture; it made for your heart warm and safe upon its possession and for Steven’s heart lighter a pound of the burden of your circumstance.

Your circumstance was not one of the simple ones, a forbidden love one might say; in which you were the only forbidden thing. Forbidden to even live, let alone love or be loved; an abomination to some. A magic wielder, no doubt seducing the most honourable with her dark powers, for what other reason could be there for him to take liking in you? It mattered not that there was less than a little true to it, that your bond was of much purer nature, as common and as human as the blood you drew from your own veins to cast protection spells over your beloved. True did not matter. Should you reveal your relationship now, Steven would have been painted a victim; and you would have lived no more.

An easy circumstance yours was not at all; but your dedication to each other was to conquer all troubles. And in the meantime, you shall have moments of serenity and of passion, of you and him.

The smallest shift of Steven’s hand pulled from your thoughts, breath hitching when his fingers slid an inch lower, brushing over your nipple. Your hips buckled on instinct, drawing a groan from your lover’s lips, a grip on your bottom encouraging you to move.

Who were you to deny pleasure to you both?

Smiling, you withdrew, index finger covering Steve’s lips as he tried to follow, a discontent furrow to his brow. You tilted your head, thumb brushing over his swollen lips.

“Would you like me to dance still, lover mine?” you inquired teasingly, his disapproval at your actions wiped away in an instant, replaced by fire in his eyes.

Gentle flames of affection battled those of desire, his warm palm caressing over your lower cheeks, before he snapped you impossibly close, causing you to gasp – and to question who it was who had the upper hand here. Your hand fell to his chest, his heart beating wildly under your palm, an answer of its own.

Both then. It seemed you were both on top and simultaneously under the other’s thumb. Such a beautiful thing.

“Would you, bosorka moja?”

Your smile grew, lips attaching to his once more and planning to remain for as long as possible, first careful rock of your hips the first step to reach for the stars – together this time.

“Oh Steven… for my honourable knight? For you, my love? With pleasure…”

An absent smile played on Steve’s lips, his fingers running up and down your arm, appreciating the softness and warmth of your skin. An air of comfort and contentedness hovered around you as he held you close, fast asleep in his arms, cheek pressed to his chest as if the very sound of his heart against your ear lulled you to peaceful slumber.

Despite the sweetness of the idea, Steve felt his brows furrow in concern. While as he was perfectly happy to serve as a pillow for his beautiful lover, aware there was barely any greater expression of trust than a shared sleep, worry seized him for this occurrence was beyond rare. He once asked whether your incredible magic was an effortless as you made it seem, met with a weary chuckle and a kind, if a little condescending smile and a confession that if seen weak, your kind would have been an easy prey. Having understood he had taken your answer as a testimony to the lack of trust you had laid in him, you had also admitted that while the teachings of your ancestors had been deeply ingrained in your instincts, part of your reluctance to show your weakness to him was precisely what weighted his conscience just now. You simply could not be bothered to make him fret too much.

The fact you had let sleep take you alone was truly worrisome and Steve pondered just how exhausted you must have been. Even as the fresh memory of your breathless pleas for more and the cries of pleasure as you rode him till you both tasted heaven were nothing short of precious to him, he could not but wonder whether he was taking too much; your magic healing his wounds, your body a sanctuary to his love and fears.

Perhaps he had. But who could ever blame him?

Steven had never known a woman like this – unafraid to give, just as unshy to take; one or the other, but never like this. He had fallen for you and had fallen hard, body and soul. Yes, should anyone call him selfish, they would not be wrong, because Gods, did he take what he craved and lusted – and yet. Yet, every moment with you felt ethereally right as your still unconscious form drifted closer, almost as if you sensed his thoughts and wished for them to evaporate. And so far, they always had, dissolved in your easy smile when you refused his offer and plea to come with him; to bring you to the castle with him so he could give as well, give more, provide and protect and worship you in his home, your new home, true home where you would not have to hide in the middle of the woods like some sort of an abomination.

It is not the time yet, my love. It will come, you would always say, washing away his guilt with a sweet kiss and a promise. One day. One day I shall come with you and we should be unabashedly happy with no fear, free to be you and me.

He had let your words and touch sooth him, always; but not today. Your body having melted into his had his protective instinct flare up, determination set in his very heart. He should convince you today, to make you his and him yours as two people in love deserved. He shall make an honest woman of you in the eyes of the whole kingdom at last. It was what you were worthy of, for you were worthy of anything and everything. And with you… he believed he deserved the same. He could not stand it anymore. Parting ways with you, only to hope for your next stolen moment to come the very minute after he had left. He could no longer bear you existing so close and yet so far out of his reach.

No, he shall convince you today, insist more than ever. He wanted this, he wished for nothing more than to lay to sleep like this every night, with you. You deserved it. You deserved the world and he shall lay it to your feet, for his honour and his benefit at once.

Any other day, you would have berated yourself for having fallen asleep; but knowing the changes your body was going through, weariness settling in sooner than it used to, it only brought a smile to your face when you found yourself waking to Steven’s tender fingers carding through your hair.

The night was slowly falling. Wandering the woods in darkness would have been an unnecessary risk for anyone, even for a skilled knight with your protective spell over him; your lover was more than aware of it and still, you could tell it pained him to bring you out of your slumber nevertheless. It was no feat to kiss his guilt away, smiles adorning your faces, noses caressing, hands wandering, nearly leading you back into the clutches of lust.

He sat patiently on your bed now, half dressed as you took your blade, his eyes following your every move with more attention than ever as he absently sipped chamomile tea; he found himself deep in thought, such was obvious. It was not difficult to guess where his mind had trailed off to, for it had always been the same.

His voice was soft when he spoke the words, a soft wrinkle on his forehead as your cut your finger and stood between his spread legs.

“Come with me.”

A sad smile played in the corner of your lips as your heart fluttered at his plea, one he never failed to deliver, even as your sigh must have sounded weary every time.

“I cannot. Not yet.”

Steven was no half-wit, which was more than could said about many of the people of Starkerbürg. He knew precisely why you could not come; why you never could, at least not yet. Magic was still forbidden – as if it was a choice, as if one could choose to stop breathing and still live – hated for the pain and destruction the dark twisted witches and sorcerers had once left in their wake, misusing magic to spread fear and suffering. It was not just that all magic wielders were still paying the price for what their ancestors had done. It was even less just that you, not having done any harm unless you needed to escape imminent danger to your life, should live a hermit life, too far from your love and lover. Yet it was how times were, still.

But you were no fool either. You could feel Steven’s uneasiness growing heavier every time he left without you, for it went against his very nature, against the need to keep you close, to hold you, to love – to protect you from harm. You had no doubt he would lay his life for you. You could not allow him to do that, not when the time was finally growing near for your love to be cherished as any other, time for your kind to be free. You must not lose him to rushed foolishness. He was no longer only yours to lose.

“I would protect you,” he promised, steely conviction in his husky voice.

As sweet as the sentiment was, you could not but smirk, a knowing gaze reminding him that should the situation require it, you could very well protect yourself, even as your true gift – the one special talent every magic wielder had, naturally developed with barely any practice – was of the healing kind. Should you truly wished, you could burn villages with terrifying ease; gods knew sorcerers and sorceresses had done this and more with a single snap of their fingers.

Steve took no offence in your teasing gaze; but the determination in his own remained unshaken as you begun to draw the protective symbol over his sternum.

“The time is yet come for people to understand the blessings of magic again, for its light to outshine the darkness it had sowed,” you reasoned, as much as it pained you. “The time shall come soon, I promise. It is simply not today, my love.”

Long fingers circled your wrist, gentle but firm, having you cease your movement, your gaze meeting the brilliant blue roaming over your face.

“I miss you. All days, all nights. I-“ he paused, licking his lips, a shadow of hurt passing over his face. “Don’t you?”

Your heart soared, a sigh leaving your lips. Steven was not easy on you today; but your conviction and determination was just as strong as his. You had to be brave and so did he. A few days longer, that would be all you needed. The right time would come. You were certain of it, even as it was nothing but a whisper of intuition in the back of your mind. Wait, the voice said, the time grows near, but you must wait.

“Do not do this, rytier moj,” you scolded Steven, letting gentleness seep into your voice. “It does not suit you. You must know I love you. I miss you too. And I worry. All days. All nights. Therefore…”

You wiggled your fingers, Steven’s shoulders sagging as he released you, an exasperated pout to his lips – unjustly adorable – as you resumed your work. You smiled widely despite your unnerving circumstance; he would give you anything and everything. The knowledge of this, having been reminded by every little gesture, every word he spoke, made for the warmest feeling in your soul.

Content with your handiwork as you drew the last spiral, you had to swallow a chuckle when Steven’s brows furrowed in confusion, head bowing, eyes flickering over the unfamiliar pattern. A triskele instead of a simple two-headed spiral. A symbol speaking more words than your knight could ever imagine in his wildest dreams, you supposed.

“It’s different.”

Shrugging, you withdrew your hand, calling to your magic to finish the ritual.

“You always draw two spirals connected…” Steve continued, eyes growing large and curious.

“I do”, you agreed softly.

He observed you, intrigued. He had once said he might not understand your power, but he swore he would always try. He would not dare to question your rituals, but you could almost feel how fast his thoughts whirled in a frantic search for an answer. The ritual had remained the same, always, countless times, over and over… why would you steer from it today of all days? What was its significance? What had changed?

Oh Steven. Your sweet, sweet Steven… if he only knew.

“You always say it is about love. The unity of us. You and me,” he said slowly and you nodded, unable to contain your joy any longer, eyes surely glimmering.

“Yes. Our love, you and me. Unity of two.”

His eyes, roaming your face in silent question still, suddenly widened, flickering down and snapping back up as the realization dawned on him, leaving his lips slightly parted.

You simply shrugged, a chuckle shaking your chest, while guilt already began to gnaw at your conscience. You should have not told him, not yet. But how could you have kept it for yourself? How could you have denied yourself a little indulgence, even when knowing nothing could change just yet? You simply wished to see him learn your sweet secret, yours and his, even if for a moment, see he was equally elated.

Your knight did not disappoint you, not that you believed he ever could. His face was a perfect blend of shock and delight, radiating joy and hope and shame and sadness in equal amount as he stammered, shaky hand reaching out to carefully brush his fingers over your belly showing no signs of the treasure growing inside yet.

“You- are you—are we? Oh gods-“ And then, as you predicted, his expression shifted in an instant, determination taking deep root. “Then you must come with me. Allow me to take care of you, to-“

Satisfied and aching at once, you promptly shushed him with your still bloody finger to his lips. A single tear rolled down your cheek; a testimony to happiness, reassured anew of your lover’s goodness and dedication to you. To your family. The wonder, the glimmer of hope and the conviction in Steven’s expression would stay with you till you could grant him his wish.

“The time has not yet come, my love. I share your joy. And your worry,” you whispered through the tightness of your throat, even as a smile adorned your lips. Your finger drew a small cross over his mouth despite the pain it caused you. You had had your moment – and that had to be enough for now. “I am sorry, rytier moj. But you shall not remember this, not yet.”

Before he could as much as take a breath, you withdrew your hand, the symbols on his chest and lips disappearing with a soft glow. Disoriented, your knight blinked, steadying himself by the hand on your hip even as he remained seated.

With a shaky inhale you composed yourself before he could, leaning forward and planting a tender kiss on his lips, fingers raking through his hair. His hand cradled your jaw, adoring.

“Be careful,” you spoke against his lips, earning another small peck.

“Always.”

You retreated with a huff, shaking your head as you went to find an ointment you knew his friend would soon need.

“You speak as if I did not know you, Steven. A basilisk chimera’s teeth three inches from your throat, I heard? Careful indeed.”

His smile was sheepish as he rose to his full height, tying the top of his shirt before reaching for the garments you had so hastily rid him of earlier.

“I always try. The idea that should I fail, I shall never see you again… it can be quite a motivation,” he sweet-talked, succeeding just a bit in softening your exasperation.

Perhaps the vision of him dutifully putting on his armour, making his frame appear even larger – and protected – calmed you further.

“Well, Steven, try harder,” you snipped, pressing a tiny pot into his hand, earning a raised brow. “And take this to Peter, the wound on his leg was already turning foul. And this…”

You reached for a salve you had prepared for when a wave of nausea had taken you by surprise, dipped your finger in the dark substance and carefully patted it over Steven’s brow where his cut had been. You did not expect Steven to feel nauseous – after all he was not the one carrying a new life under his heart – but the colour was convenient. A cut healing so rapidly would have casted a dangerous suspicion on whoever he had interacted with – or worse, on Steven himself. You could not have that.

He observed you softly as you tended to him, adding a small tap where a bruise had begun to form earlier on his cheekbone. He did not utter a word until you were satisfied with your work. Once your hands fell to your sides, his own framed your face, pressing a kiss to your forehead, your nose and finally your mouth again, a bittersweet goodbye.

“Always so meticulous and careful… always so good. Taking care of me, of my friends…” he mused, breathing you in one last time, hovering, hesitating more than usual. Almost, almost as if your spell had not worked and he still knew. As if he still knew precisely what he was leaving behind this time. “Take care of the person most precious to me too? Until I come back again?”

There might be two of those for you now, you thought, the memory of his delight flashing in your mind, bringing a smile to your lips as you nuzzled into his touch and kissed his palm.

Looking up at his face, you echoed his own reassurance. “Always.”

With one last kiss and hearts as heavy as light, you declared your love to each other. You walked him out quietly, watching him disappear between the trees, his gaze turning to you several times, always finding you standing at the doorstep of his true home, a tender smile on your lips.

Once he was out of sight, you released a sigh, hand settling over your belly, a tear stinging in your eye despite the corners of your lips having been turn upwards.

Yes. The time was yet to come for the people to see again the blessings of magic. For now… the blessing of love already bloomed and it was enough.

Očaruj mě (a fic with the same pairing in the same universe)

S.R. masterlist - contains other knight!Steve fics, independent of this one

Complete masterlist

Yes, I’m mixing symbols, I know… do I care? Nope.

Terms of endearment/addressing used from Slovak language: bosorka moja = witch mine rytier môj = knight mine ľubim ťa = I love you

Thank you for reading!💕 I wrote it in between really difficult exams in the ocourse of two months and it needed a LOT of editing afterwards too, so... feedback is, as always, appreciated 🥰

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff #knight steve rogers #knight steve rogers x reader #knight steve rogers x you #knight steve rogers imagine #medieval au #fantasy au #fairy tale au #lemons #pomiluj me #anika ann

219 notes · View notes

mrsbrookemunson · 10 months

Text

*~Insecure~* | S.S. x Gryffindor!MC

I wrote this in my journal about a month ago, and I thought it was time to share it - I hope you enjoy it.

Warnings: *Not proofread* Angst with a fluffy ending, insecurities (on Sebastian’s side), ‘MC’ insert, fem!reader (she/her pronouns, referenced as girl), Gryffindor!MC (it’s for the plot), Leander slander (I’m sorry), mentions of food/not eating (hint at an ED, but can be taken a lot of other ways too), Imelda Reyes, Ominis x Anne, Ranrok doesn’t really exist as well as Rookwood, Professor Fig is alive, Anne is not cursed, Soloman is still alive - it’s a good little alternative universe.

Word Count: 4674

Sebastian stared at his reflection in the full length mirror in his dorm with a rather large frown. It was now finally the weekend, and he had made plans with MC for a Hogsmeade trip. But, at this point he nearly had forgotten as the time was irrelevant, not knowing how much has went by.

He couldn’t stop. Analyzing every one of his features. The way his nose was a little too flared, the way his cheek were slightly too chubby, and Merlin his freckles - his freckles were just... everywhere. And suddenly he thought - how can she look at me? Did she think all of these things when she stared at her for a moment too long for his liking?

He always squirmed under her gaze.

“Sebastian,” Ominis called out.

“Yes?” he sighed.

“What are you doing? MC’s been waiting outside like a sad puppy waiting for you.”

Two responses ran through his mind that would inevitably lead to different outcomes, he opted for the rather unfortunate one. “Tell her ‘I’m sorry, but I’m not feeling well’.”

“Not feeling well? But, last night you wouldn’t stop blabbering about how excited you were for this trip.”

“Must’ve come in the night - a bug, no doubt.”

Ominis seemed to look rather disappointment in Sebastian. “Alright then... I’ll see to it.” With that, he leaves.

When MC heard the news, her shoulders caved in a little, her body a slump as she sulked. “Oh...” she paused. “Did he say what he thinks it is?”

“A bug - I’m sure he’ll feel better late after some rest.” His words seemed rather forced as if he weren’t sure he believed them himself.

“Should I go check on him?”

Ominis shook his head. “Nest to leave it be. I’ll escort you.”

“And be you and Anne’s third wheel? I’m sorry, but I’ll have to pass.”

He scoffed, “Oh c’mon - we aren’t near the level you and Sebastian are on, and I have to deal with the two of you everyday.”

She sighed, “Fine.”

“I’ll go grab Anne.”

MC kicked at the ground in defeat.

“Ditched now, are we?”

She grimaced, looking up at the owner of the voice. Leander. “Oh, no - Sebastian is feeling under the weather.”

“Sounds like an excuse to me.”

MC bit her tongue - she cannot talk back to someone from her own house. She cannot. But, oh... did she want to.

“If I were dating you - I’d never dare to be away from you - even for a second. It makes it easier - us being in the same house, doesn’t it?” He dryly chuckled. “I mean a Gryffindor and a Slytherin?”

“I don’t believe in house compatibility, nor stereotypes, nor house supremacy.”

“Still, it doesn’t make sense. And you just had to pick the worst of them.”

MC was now fuming. “The worst?!” she scoffed. “I’m sorry, but for someone who as you’ve said before, thinks highly of me - you sure don’t trust my judgment.”

“I’m just thinking about what’s best for you, that’s all.”

“What’s best for me?! And let me guess, you think you’re what’s best for me?”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Well, you’re wrong. And it’s not your choice. And for the record...” She groans in frustration. “Sebastian is more than a Slytherin, he’s a person, a good person, who’s respectful, and generous, and loyal - Ha! He’s a better excuse of a Gryffindor than you’ll ever be!” She straightens her corset. “Now, if you don’t mind - not that I’d care if you did - I’ll be on my way.” She turns around. Her body froze when in front of her stood Anne, Ominis... and Sebastian. All with equally shocked expressions.

Her eyes widened. “Sebastian!” She awkwardly played with her hair. “Ominis told me you’ve fallen ill.”

He stared at her for a moment before clearing his throat. “Yes - well - right - I’m feeling a little better now.” He attempted a casual smile.

“Oh! Are you - are you sure?” She walked up to him, concern written all over her. She pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. She frowned. “You don’t feel warm.” She cupped his face, and analyzed his eyes and features for any sign of sickness. “And you don’t look pale.”

That little voice in his head was going off the longer she took him in.

“Yes, well...” He removed her hands, and held them in his own. “Like I said - I’m feeling better.”

Her gaze held suspicion. “Very well, shall we be off.”

He nodded and linked arms. The couple fell beside Anne and Ominis as they began to walk to Hogsmeade.

“Why can’t we use floo powder?” Ominis asked.

Anne nudged his stomach with her elbow before looking toward MC with wide smile. “Can I just say what you did back there was brilliant!” Anne started. “Putting Leander in his place.”

MC glanced at Sebastian. “I only said the truth.”

Sebastian’s cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

When they got to Hogsmeade, Sebastian turned to Brooke.

“Where to first?”

MC gasped with excitement. “Oh! The sweets shop!”

He chuckled. “Lead the way.”

She grabbed his hand, wasting no time dragging him along to Honeydukes. When they got there she immediately went to the chocolates section.

“Oh ‘Bastian look!” He peered over her shoulder. “They have those bon bons you like so much.” She picked up a box. “I’ll get us a box to share.” She turned her head and pecked his cheek then ran off to go pay.

His eyes flickered around the shop, but when a laugh cuts through the air, his attention is immediately back on the girl laughing at something the owner of the shop had said.

“Thank you,” he heard her say to the worker.

Should he have paid for it? He thought for a brief moment.

“What were you laughing about?” he asked.

She waved it off. “Oh, something about me paying - but I said you weren’t feeling well this morning. So, I bought these - which is true.”

He should’ve bought them.

“Let me pay you back at least... how about with a... butterbeer?” He raised an eyebrow.

“How could I say no?” They linked arms again.

They walked out.

“Remember when I took you here on your first day? Still can’t believe Professor Weasley trusted me of all people to be your guide.”

She smiled at him. “What if I told you it technically wasn’t her decision?”

“Hm?” He tilted his head toward her.

She became flustered. “Well, it was either you or Natty and I might’ve chose you...”

“You never told me that,” he whispered.

It was quiet, and she could sense that Sebastian had something to say, but she beat him to it.

“If we flashback to earlier that day.- I beat you in that duel.”

He groaned, softly. “I’ll never live that down.” He laughed.

“We have a lot of interesting memories together,” she said.

“Oh?”

“Like you completely rejecting me.”

He looked at her in alarm. “I thought you were over that.”

“I am!”

He gave her a look of disbelief. “You know how horrible I still feel - ”

“Sebastian! I swear to Merlin it’s okay - it’s in the past - and I understand why you did it, so... no hard feelings.”

He grumbled. “You should hold a grudge.”

“Well, I don’t.” She intertwined their fingers. “Because I have you now, and that’s all that matters.”

Sebastian pulled away for a second to open the door to The Three Broomsticks. “After you, m’lady.”

She clicked her tongue. “Such a gentlemen.”

He smirked, following her in afterward. “I try to be,” he paused. “Why don’t you go pick out a table and I’ll get us drinks.”

“Okay!” She walked off.

His eyes caught her run into Anne and Ominis, sitting down with them.

“Mr. Sallow, a pleasure to see you here, what can I do for you?”

Sebastian looked at Sirona with a small smile.” Hello, Sirona, pleasure to see you as well - can I get two butterbeers?” He glanced at MC. “And a pumpkin pasty - please.”

MC’s laugh spiraled through the room. It made his stomach flutter and his heart speed up a little. He could get drunk off of the sound.

“I don’t mean to pry, but are you two still courting?” Sirona asked.

“We are,” he said, proudly. He couldn’t take his eyes off his two favorite girls giggling and smiling as if it were the best day of their life.

“Glad to see it, you two are lucky to have each other. Since the day you came into here the day of that troll attack...” She clicked her tongue a few times. “I know love when I see it - you pick up on one or two things in this business.” She smiled, warmly, setting down the drinks and the pasty.

He smiled back at her, setting down a handful of galleons. “Feels like only yesterday, honestly.” He started to juggle their order in his hands. “Thank you, Sirona.”

“Any time.” Her voiced dragged in his ears as he walked away. But, he could hear the small chuckle escape her and he could only imagine her shaking her head.

He managed to get over to the table where Ominis, Anne, and MC were sitting at without causing an accident.

“Ugh - I wish you were in Slytherin sometimes, we could have so much fun together in the common rooms.”

“Not to mention she does look good in green.” Sebastian winked, setting down her drink down in front of her. “I also got you a little extra something.” He set down the pasty.

Her eyes lit up. “Oh, Sebastian, you shouldn’t have!”

“I have a debt to pay off, you know,” he said, jokingly.

“At this rate you’d still owe her a thousand pasties and a thousand butterbeers,” Ominis commented.

“Make it two thousand,” Anne added.

Sebastian laughed, awkwardly. “Thank you for that guys,” he said through his teeth.

MC rolled her eyes, playfully. “You don’t owe me anything, Seb. I am perfectly satisfied with just having you.”

And there goes his cheeks again. Heating up into a blush.

Ominis made a noise of disgust. “A perfectly good appetite gone.”

“Oh shush - ” Anne gently nudged him. “I think it’s cute.”

Sebastian sits down next to MC. She was digging into her pasty, moaning and groaning in delight of the flavor.

Ominis shook his head. “You could at least have the decency to do that away from civilization.”

MC froze in embarrassment, looking sheepish. “Sorry!” She ripped a piece off, holding it out for Sebastian.

He delightfully took the offer. His brain short-circuited when her finger brushed his bottom lip. He taunted her by mimicking her, dramatically. “Oh - OH - that is good!”

Anne giggled.

“You know what? I agree with Ominis,” MC said with mocked bitterness. “This is getting too far, and my appetite is gone.”

“No, no!” Sebastian swallowed with a hearty laugh. “What have you eaten today?”

She looked at him, reluctantly. “A pumpkin pasty...”

His look got serious. “MC...”

“M’sorry, okay? I was worried about you when you didn’t show for breakfast.”

He grumbled under his breath and stood up abruptly. “Let me get you some real food.”

She grabbed his hand. “Seb, it’s okay - this is plenty.”

He shook his head, brushing her off, and storming off to the counter.

Anne meets MC’s pout. “It’s only because he cares.”

“I know,” MC replied. “I shouldn’t known, wouldn’t kept my mouth shut,” she paused. “I’m not even that hungry.” As if on cue, her stomach growled. Her expression faltered. “I just - he shouldn’t need to worry about me to the point where he needs to prove himself to me - I love him - a little too much if you ask me.”

Anne grabbed her hand. “Then maybe it’s time to remind him of that.”

MC nodded. “You’re right, it’s just hard.”

Ominis tilted his head. “How so?”

“you know I don’t believe in the whole house system, but others do - I mean if we were wearing our robes right now people would look at us like we were crazy, red in a sea of green. Remember last time I attempted to go into the Slytherin common room?” Anne winced at the memory. “Yeah, exactly - I can’t get him truly alone.”

“There’s the undercroft - ”

“What about the Room of Requirement?” Ominis suggested.

MC perked up. “This would be a time of need.” She thought hard about it. “Thank you, Ominis.”

A plate clamored down in front of her.

“Shepherds pie - you told me you were craving it the other day,” Sebastian said, taking his seat again. (Have any of you tried the shepherds pie at Universal? I remember it being so good.)

MC turned to face him. She leaned in and pressed her lips up against his, gently. He made a noise of surprise, but regained composure almost immediately and kissed her back. He closed his eyes and indulged in the lingering pumpkin and spice flavor on her lips.

She pulled away. “Thank you,” she whispered. She turned away to dig into her food.

Anne and Sebastian gave each other knowing looks.

Sebastian breathes out, “I should get you shepherds pie more often...” He licked his lips, and glanced at her lovingly.

He noticed her picking at it a few times and she only got halfway through it before saying she was full.

Sebastian’s eyebrows furrowed. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Want to take the rest of it to go, at least?”

“Would it make you feel better if I did?”

“Yes, definitely.”

“Then I’ll take the rest of it!”

He smiled. “I’ll go grab you a box for it.” He leaves.

MC’s curiosity grew, thinking back to earlier this morning. “I wonder what made him feel ill this morning - he seems perfectly healthy.”

“It’s Sebastian - could’ve been anything,” Ominis noted.

She shrugged. “I guess you’re right.”

He comes back with a box. “Here you go, darling.”

“Thank you.”

She scoops the rest of her food into the box.

“Shall we head back?” Sebastian asks.

“Sure!” MC stands. “Joining us?” she inquired toward Anne and Ominis.

Anne looked toward Ominis for an answer. He sits there quietly, until.the silence alarms him. “Oh! Why do I have to decide that?”

Anne sighs, “We’ll catch up with you later.”

MC is about to respond, but Sebastian gets to it first.

“Suit yourselves.” He places a hand on the small of her back. “We’ll be on our way.”

They walk out, hands now intertwined. Sebastian holding her food in his other hand.

“That was fun,” she said as they begin their walk back to the castle.

“It was...”

“I’m glad you were able to come - it wouldn’t have been near as fun without you. How are you feeling by the way?”

He glanced at her. “I feel fine.”

“What do you think it was?”

He shook his head with a small shrug. “No idea.”

“Hm...”

“Don’t worry about it, ‘kay?” he paused. “So... about this morning - ”

“What about it?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

Her posture straightened with pride. “He had no right to speak that way - about you, our relationship... it wasn’t right.”

“So... you meant everything?”

“Everything,” she breathed out.

A calm silence filled the air. No tension, no worries - just peace within each other’s presence.

“So, I was thinking...” she started.

“Oh?”

She continued, “I was thinking - maybe - you’d want to sneak off to the Room of Requirement with me tonight?”

He began to choke, violently coughing as his face turned red.

She grew flustered as well. “Oh bloody Hell - not like that!” she scolded, reading his mind. “I just - we rarely get time alone.”

He looked around. “We’re alone right now.”

“No, I mean, really alone. No distractions, no - ” A lady frantically ran by, clutching her chest, crying. “That.” She cleared her throat. “Just me and you.”

“Well, what about the Undercroft? Or we can sneak into the restricted section of the library? Or - ”

She groaned. “Why are you arguing with me about trying to get us some alone time?”

“I’m not arguing!” he corrected.

“You’re just being stubborn.”

“Not true...”

“Listen, just forget I said anything.” She shook her head and kept her eyes trained forward.

“No, no, let’s talk this out - so, you’re wanting some one-on-one time - I get it, but why today?” he paused. “You haven’t talked about this before.”

She sighed. “Didn’t think it was a crime - wanting to spend time with my partner.”

“Darling, that’s not - ” He inhales, sharply. “You know more than anyone how much I love being with you and spending time with you - I’m just a little curious is all - why you’re being so prominent about it now of all days.”

“Like I said - just forget it... please.”

He nodded. He linked their arms to pull her closer to him. He tilted his head ever-so-slightly toward her. “I’d love to sneak off to the Room of Requirement with you tonight,” he whispered in her ear.

She let out a soft smile, meeting his doe-eyes once. “Okay,” she whispered back.

He returned a breathtaking smile. “Perfect.”

The castle was growing bigger the closer they got.

“Big game coming up.”

She smiled. “Gryffindor against Slytherin - who are you rooting for?”

“Gotta support my house - but you know I’m always secretly rooting for you.”

“Oh!” she gasped, raising her eyebrows. “What would your people have to say about that? You’ve gone soft.”

“My people?!” He looked offended. “And I have not gone soft - if we were sentenced to duel right now, don’t think you’d get away easily.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” She pulled away when they got to the doors. “This is where I part.” She grabbed her leftover food from his hands.

He frowned. “I’ll see you later then.”

“Yes! I’ll meet you outside your common room at - let’s say - twelve?”

He nodded. “Till then.”

MC leaves. When she rounded the corner, disappearing, Imelda walks up to Sebastian.

“Surprised to see you two still at it.”

Sebastian looked at her, confused. “What do you mean?”

“A Gryffindor and a Slytherin? Sounds like a doomed relationship to me.”

“Doomed? well... you’re wrong.”

“Just give it time. Those Gryffindors - they always have to prove they’re better than us. Soon enough - you’ll be nothing more than a competition and if I learnt anything over my time being here at Hogwarts - it’s that Slytherins always have a way of losing.”

His eyes narrowed as Imelda walked away. Deep down he knew none of what she said was true, but still - his mind wandered. Was their relationship really doomed? And had it been from the start? He thought back to the beginning, but can’t seem to find solid evidence. Sure, they would bicker at each other from time-to-time - but even then he was down bad for her that it came off more like bantering. But, then he broke her heart. Now that was something he’d rather not think about right now (It’s a long story.) He found his mind wandering over MC’s biggest belief. That a house doesn’t determine someone’s path. And a house shouldn’t determine how you see people, it shouldn’t affect anything... it’s wrong. It’s like judging someone based off looks, color, size, sexual orientation, the list goes on... And if Sebastian was being honest with himself - he slowly realized that maybe she was right. ‘Cause Merlin... she wasn’t just a Gryffindor - in this case she was also a Ravenclaw, a Hufflepuff - and Hell - even a Slytherin. And maybe that’s where he felt so small. Because in his mind - he was only a Slytherin - and he loathed the thought of what everyone assumed was his dark path in the future that he truly didn’t want. But, he felt it. He’s scared that it really is true and he’ll lose MC, Ominis, and Anne for good one day. The thought made him sick.

Does he know when to stop? He worried he doesn’t.

“There you are,” she breathed. “You’re late, thought you accidentally fell asleep or something.”

Had he really been stuck in his head for so long? “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She took his hand. “Let’s go.”

She guided him through the dark, empty halls of the school. Up the stairs and down some, then back up again. (Don’t get me started on that “Off on another adventure” lady.) Then there it was. She looked around before opening the door, and signaling to him to come in.

“I’m surprised,” she started. “That was surprisingly easy.”

“I’m not complaining,” he said.

Suddenly a door appeared.

She looked over at it, curiously. “Interesting...” She walked over and opened it. “Wow...”

“Find something?” He walked up to her and peeked over her shoulder.

A room, dim-lit by a roaring fireplace. A sofa, displaying pillows and blankets. She ventured further in.

“Now this is something.” She felt so warm and cozy in the atmosphere the room created for them.

He followed her in. “And this place just conjured this?”

“It creates what you need.” She sat down on the sofa. “I brought the chocolates by the way,” she said, pulling them out of her bag and setting them on the coffee table in front of her.

He sat down beside her. This caused her to avert her gaze to his face, staring at him with such a passionate intensity, one adorned by pure love.

He shifted in his spot. And there he was, back standing in front of his mirror, staring at his reflection. “What are you doing?” he blurted.

She was taken aback. “Admiring you.”

The urge to scoff bubbled in his throat. “Is that it?”

She frowned. “Is everything alright, Sebastian?”

He couldn’t help it, the words were on the tip of his tongue, it was no use attempting to hold them back. “Are we a doomed relationship?”

Oh.... how he wished he didn’t look at her. His heart sunk at the sight of hurt on her features. Immersed in sadness. He knew in that moment, this expression will haunt him in his nightmares once again - the same expression she shared with him all that time ago when he rejected her.

“What?” she whispered. “Is that what you believe?”

“Imelda said - ”

“Imelda?!” She grew frustrated. “You’re taking her opinions into consideration now?”

“Yes!” he paused, his shoulders caved in. “No...” He looked down at his shaking hands. “I don’t know! Maybe they’re right... Imelda, Leander - I mean, a Gryffindor and a Slytherin?”

“Bloody Hell!” she groaned. “Are you hearing yourself right now? Agreeing with Leander of all people! What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing! I’m just saying - ”

“What?! What are you possibly trying to say?” She got up and paced around. “Because, it sounds like you’re trying to break up with me - ” She sighed. “You’ve been distant and I don’t.know why, but I know this isn’t you, so please...” She stopped and knelt down in front of him. “Talk to me.”

It was as if the dam broke and all came pouring out. Tears ran down his face while she was quick to engulf his into her arms, taking a place close next to him. He cried into her shoulder.

“I’m sorry!” he hiccuped.

“Shhh - it’s okay...” She rubbed his back, soothingly.

He pulled away. “No, it isn’t - I just - I’ve been feeling so insecure lately, and.everyone is getting into my head.”

“What do you mean insecure?”

He sighed, avoiding her worried expression. “You’re.- you’re so good. You’re kind and loyal and smart and talents and so open-minded, and you see the world so... differently, so beautifully. While I’m just... me.”

“I’m not quite following.”

He laughed, humorlessly. “Don’t you see?! I’m - I’m not right for you. I’m not good... I’m flawed and ugly and I’m so confused on how you can simply just look at me half the time.” He covered his face with his hands. “Because every time I look in the mirror I can’t stand what I see.”

Her heart ached, and her own tears were running now her face. “Oh, Sebastian... When I look at you - “ She sighed. “Merlin, words don’t describe it. Sebastian - you’re beautiful - inside and out...”

He shook his head. He felt her soft hands grip his wrists, gently pulling his hands away. His eyes met hers.

She gazed, longingly into his blood-shot eyes. Its brown color seemed much more prominent as they were entirely a shade darker, nearly black. But, there was still that rush of sweet honey that swirled around his iris’. “You are beautiful,” she repeated. “Yes, you have flaws, but so does everyone else in the world - you don’t know how many times I’ve - ” She cuts herself off. “The point is - we all have out insecurities, we all have our imperfections, but it’s those that makes us individuals.” She frowned a little deeper when his expression didn’t change. “Tell me,” she blurted.

“What?” he croaked.

“Tell me what you don’t like.”

“MC - no - ”

“At least one thing, one thing that you wish you could change.”

Reluctantly, he gave in with defeat. “My nose...”

She gasped, scandalized. “What?! This cute little button nose that I could kiss all day long?” She pecked the tip.of his nose. “Wish I could steal it, honestly.” Her bore into his. “What else?”

He was too enchanted by her to even realize he continued. “My cheeks - they’re too chubby.”

“Nonsense - ” She cupped his face. “To be honest I’m not into crazy cheekbones and jawlines. Yours is a perfect balance and I love them because I can do this!” She littered his cheeks his kisses, he almost let out a giggle but managed to hold back

He released a breath, that came out dreamily. “My freckles - ” he blurted whilst she was in the midst of cutely assaulting his cheeks. “They’re just - mmm - ” His eyes closed.

Her lips pressed to his in a longing kiss before moved them down, in more of a drag to kiss along his jaw, tracing the outline of his face with her lips, she went up to his temple, then to his forehead - at this point he was dizzy and breathless.

“I would spend eternity counting every one, creating constellations that only I’d ever have the pleasure of knowing about...” she paused. “Sebastian Sallow, I am in love with you, every part of you that most of the time I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t stop.”

“Hm?”

“Don’t ever stop being in love with me.”

She gazed at him in awe. “Never,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry for making you think I wanted to break up with you, it’s just - ”

She stopped him. “Hey, I understand, it’s easier for people to get into our heads when we’re in a vulnerable state. But, please just promise me the next time you feel like this you’ll come talk to me.”

He nodded, hastily. “I promise.”

“Good.”

His eyes glanced over at the chocolates. She caught it and widely smiled. She grabbed the box and leaned into Sebastian’s side. As they cozied up together, they found themselves enjoying the presence of each other along with the warmth of the fire. They both listened carefully to each other’s breathing, melting together into the sofa in a state of pure bliss and relaxation.

She took a chocolate out of the box and held it up for him. “Open up.”

He gladly did, taking the thing whole. “We should do this more often,” he said with a mouthful of chocolate.

They laid down slightly, getting more and more comfortable with each minute passing.

She plopped a chocolate into her mouth. “I could get used to this.”

And there is was. Sebastian’s mind went down a new path for his future, one where him and MC lived together far away in a little cottage. Her in his arms all the time, getting to wake up next to her every morning, feeding each other sweets after supper by the fire. Maybe even a family... Whatever or wherever, he knew one thing - he wanted her to be there.

“Yeah...” he breathed. “I could get used to this too.”

If you’d like to be apart of my Sebastian Sallow taglist let me know!

| @snickette

| Requests open |

208 notes · View notes

setaripendragon · 3 months

Note

Okay, now I'm kinda interested in what the Kingsman "The King's Whores" wip is about...

=D I am so glad you asked!

Basically, it's a post!Secret Service (not Golden Circle or King's Man compliant) fic where Harry gets found alive and comes back to take the position of Arthur, and the first thing he has to do is replace a bunch of agents who died because of the four minutes of murder.

Eggsy decides that his own appointment wasn't scandalous enough, and not only does Kingsman have a classism problem, it also has a sexism problem, and goes trawling the east end's street hookers for his candidates for the trials.

The story is told from the PoV of a street hooker called Emma who is Massively Confused about this rich-ass chav who's paying her and a bunch of other girls a lot of money for the privilege of... taking them to dinner at the Ritz?

The plan is to have Eggsy run a couple of 'tests' to check for general comatibility (the ritz), physical ability (free running? laser tag? adult-sized jungle gym? I haven't decided yet), and some sort of puzzle-solving/detectiving skills (city wide treasure hunt? some sort of pin the tail on the asshole rich guy??? still a bit vague on this one, ngl) and Emma eventually gets bonus points for pretty much figuring out what Eggsy's looking for and possibly catching him bugging them all and such.

And the grand finale is going to be Eggsy presenting these three to Merlin as his candidates, and ALL of the other agents and candidates pulling faces as the girls fly through the Kingsman tests in a little epilogue montage and, like, two out of three of them getting the job or something.

(Harry thinks it's delightful, and fist-bumps Eggsy when Emma's knighted, much to the agony of all the other stuffed-up inbred aristocrats in Kingsman)

Have an excerpt:

“If you want us to get in your car, you’re gonna have to tell us where the hell you’re taking us.” Emma informed him with a grimace. So far, he’d been remarkably polite and respectful, but she knew full well just how quickly that could change once a bloke didn’t need to be. And sure, there were more of them than there were of him, but she couldn’t guarantee on it staying that way.

Eggsy thought about it for a moment, then nodded in a ‘that’s fair’ sort of way. “Dinner at at the Ritz.” He informed them blandly, and then grinned with mischief.

“Bullshit.” Emma snapped.

Eggsy sobered up at that, but he didn’t look angry to be called out, or even irritated. He just looked sombre. “I give you my word, that’s all. Dinner, two hours, and I’ll drop you all back here in exactly the same condition you’re in now, only better fed, and maybe a little bit tipsy. They got good wine there.” He put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “And you don’t have to come. The money’s yours whether you do or don’t, but hey, when else’re you gonna get to make all the waiters at the Ritz uncomfortable as hell?”

That was tempting, Emma had to admit, but she also had her kids to think about, and if she got abducted, who the hell would look after them? “Your word?” Laura challenged, unimpressed.

“A true gentleman never breaks his word.” Eggsy replied sincerely, and it was an odd thing to hear in such a common accent, but Emma was pretty good at reading people, and she was pretty damn sure he meant it.

#Kingsman #my wips

54 notes · View notes

hp-hcs · 6 months

Note

Your fics are incredible! My friend wanted to know if you wrote for Pansy? If you do, a Pansy x gn reader would be amazing :D

absolutely i will write for my slytherin queen 😩🤌 and thank you so much!!

requests? 🥺🤲

paralyzer — pansy parkinson x gn! hufflepuff! reader

oh my godddd 😩🤌👑

underage alcohol consumption warning

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

‘I hold on so nervously to me and my drink/ I wish it was coolin' me/ But so far has not been good/ It's been shitty, and I feel awkward as I should/ This club has got to be the most pretentious thing/ Since I thought you and me’

“Heyyyy, Y/N! How’zit goin’?!”

“Wonderful,” you drawl. “Now go drink some water before you die of alcohol poisoning.”

Cedric clapped you on the shoulder, giggling, before wandering off after a pretty Ravenclaw.

You sigh, downing the last of your drink and pushing yourself off of the wall you’d been leaning against for the last half hour, fully intending to make your escape to your dorm.

You weave your way through the throng of people, almost taking an elbow to the face when you pass by a particularly rowdy bunch. Scowling at the group, you aren’t even paying attention when you run smack into someone.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going!” An angry voice snaps. You turn to apologize and are met with the most gorgeous girl you’ve ever seen.

She rolls her eyes, her hands on her hips, and her pretty lips pursed in annoyance. “Of course it’d be a Puff. Pick your jaw up off the floor, sweetheart.”

She gives you a condescending pat on the shoulder and waltzes off, taking your entire heart with her.

‘Well, I am imagining a dark lit place/ Or your place or my place’

“Subtle, Panz,” Draco rolls his eyes.

“Oh Merlin, oh fucking Merlin, I fucked that up, didn’t I?”

Mattheo takes a puff from his cigarette, swinging his legs from where he sits on the edge of the bathroom sink. He watches Pansy pace anxiously around the empty second floor girl’s bathroom. “Yep, pretty much.”

“‘Pick your jaw up off the floor’? What was I thinking?!”

“You weren’t,” Draco supplies helpfully, leaning against the wall. “I mean, at least you called ‘em sweetheart. That’s gotta do something.”

Pansy groans and face palms. “Thanks a lot. Now how do I fix this?”

“Why are you asking us? This is your Puff-Stuff, not ours,” Mattheo says flippantly, tapping the ash off the end of his cigarette.

“They don’t even know I exist!” Pansy whines.

“Well, they do now, if that makes you feel any better.”

“Oi. You better shut the fuck up.”

‘Well, I'm not paralyzed, but I seem to be struck by you/ I wanna make you move because you're standin' still/ If your body matches what your eyes can do/ You'll probably move right through me on my way to you’

“Hey, Puff!”

You look up from your assignment, seeing, of all people, Pansy Parkinson leaning towards you from her desk. She smiles anxiously at you.

“Uh, hi…?” You ask slowly, quietly.

“I- uh- d-do you have a quill I could borrow?”

You hum, nodding. “Yeah, here.”

She grins widely. “Thanks.”

She takes the quill you hold out to her with utter reverence—much more respect than you would expect her to give to a five-sickle quill from a discount shop.

You nod, a bit baffled, and turn back to your work.

She waits, like she expects you to say something further. When you remain silent, she sighs, seemingly disappointed, and moves on to her assignment.

‘I hold out for one more drink, before I think/ I'm lookin' too desperately/ But so far has not been fun, I should just stay home/ If one thing really means one/ This club will hopefully be closed in three weeks/ That would be cool with me’

“I can’t believe it! I just sat there, like an utter dumbass-”

Cedric raises an eyebrow. “Here’s a wild thought: maybe she’s into you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ced,” you scoff. “She doesn’t even know I exist.”

‘Well, I'm still imagining a dark lit place/ Or your place or my place’

“We are not friends,” Draco warns. “This is just an alliance.”

“Just so they stop acting so lovesick over each other,” Cedric agreed.

“Hey, Panz,” Draco starts, interrupting his friend mid-tirade about they’re just so cute, and they loaned me a quill today in History when I couldn’t find mine. “Why don’t you just ask ‘em out?”

She stops her rant, speechless. “Are you insane?”

Draco shrugs. “Just like, send them a note, or whatever. What’s the worst that could happen? You said it yourself; they barely know you exist.”

Your eyes widen in surprise when one of the Owl Post owls drops an envelope onto the table in front of you. Plucking it up, you turn it around, finding no return address or name of any kind. Cedric leans over.

“Who’s it from?”

“Doesn’t say.”

“Well, open it!” Your friend, Hannah, exclaims. “You never get mail.”

You open the unmarked envelope, pulling out a piece of folded parchment. Scrawled on it, in Slytherin green ink, is a short poem.

I’m not paralyzed, but I seem to be struck by you. I wanna make you move, because you're standing still. If your body matches what your eyes can do, You'll probably move right through me on my way to you. - P. P.

Your eyes widen as you look at the initials, knowing immediately who it was. You look up, easily finding Pansy’s eyes from across the room. She looks startled, like she hadn’t been expecting to make such sudden eye contact.

You both blush and look away, smiling to yourselves.

‘You'll probably move right through me on my way to you’

“I’ll admit, I didn’t expect that to actually work,” Cedric murmurs under his breath to Draco.

The pair watch as you and Pansy, paired together for a Potions assignment, laugh and mess around with each other on the other side of the room.

“Yeah. How long d’you think before Y/N realizes that Pansy only writes in black ink?” Draco muses with his infamous smirk, twirling his quill around and nearly knocking over his jar of Slytherin green ink.

‘You'll probably move right through me on my way to you’

#harry potter #fuck jkr #hp #x reader #hp x gn reader #gay #x male reader #hp x male reader #x gender neutral reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gn reader #pansy parkinson #pansy parkinson x reader

85 notes · View notes

erizia · 7 months

Text

some hcs for the sins as a group pre-banishment

a lot of them didn’t really get along at the start - i think merlin probably found ban really difficult just because of their different (and both quite strong) personalities, i think king and diane never really got along that well with gowther because of the whole memories thing.

meliodas is surprisingly mature in his captaincy - the reason he made the 7th rule was to attempt to overcome these personality clashes. having to deal with the ten commandments, who were probably even more difficult, he had a great grip on activities they could do to get to know each other better. i think meliodas has a good understanding of how a team needs to work in order to get shit done and he leads to the best of his ability

the seven rules that meliodas came up with, while they are good, he was completely drunk when he made them

i think merlin would have been surprisingly immature all things considered. as we know from her past, she grew up quite sheltered and never really got the chance to really develop her personality. despite being incredibly smart i think she’s somewhat socially unaware.

everyone (except meliodas and merlin) assumed gowther was this really buff dude because of the suit of armour. imagine the surprise.

gowther (and sometimes merlin) casually bring up events from 3000 years ago just to stir the pot a bit, and to piss off meliodas to some extent

they totally fought over which sin each of them was going to represent. they don’t talk about them after this because they had a plan to get drunk one night and decide, so gowther could remember what they’d chosen in the morning and erase their memories of the others telling them about what their sins were. of course gowther already knows anyway :)

on that, they are all locked in a room (maybe by zaratras) until they can sort out what sins each of them were going to be. some were obvious, some less so. some were stretches to some extent. meliodas claimed wrath immediately and gave no explanation, everyone kind of just went with it

i completely hc that merlin and ban fought over who was greed and who was gluttony because they’re a similar concept. just,,, screaming at each other, ban threatening to fight,

meliodas got PISSED

they were all pretty on board with the matching tattoos idea bc they thought it would be fun

they came up with their own lore “seven dAnGeRoUs criminals brandished with the mark of the beasts”, and everyone in liones took that a bit too seriously

ban is a little shit - i think this is implied but like yeah

meliodas forced them to go camping together a lot- which prepared them pretty well for when they were actually on the run from the law and had to find food and stuff

as time went on their relations improved pretty drastically… merlin and ban learned to respect each other, meliodas was still a great captain

thanks for this yall

#nnt #nanatsu no taizai #seven deadly sins #7 deadly sins #sds #7ds #nanatsu no taizai incorrect quotes #nnt incorrect quotes #nnt headcanons #nnt hcs #ban nnt #meliodas #gowther #escanor #merlin nnt #king nnt #diane nnt

124 notes · View notes

omiiverse · 1 year

Text

mistletoe - ominis guant x (f) reader

cw: unedited, friends to lovers, kissing, fluff

A blanket of snow covered the grounds of Hogwarts. Despite the biting chill in the air, its hallways were bustling with students; many anticipating the winter holidays. Everyone was excited to return home.

Everyone except you.

While Poppy prattled on fervently about her Gran’s recent bowtruckle encounter, bless your heart, your mind wandered elsewhere. You couldn’t help it. The constant “what if’s” pestering your mind as you recall the letter that you received from your mother. She wrote to you with a “heavy heart” informing you that her recent assignment would keep her away from home. Enjoy Christmas at Hogwarts; her scribbled words reminding you once again that you wouldn’t be alone.

five days prior

“It’ll be nice to have a friend,” a soft smile dawns on Ominis’ lips, as if he’s pleased with the thought.

“You aren’t going home?” The quill in your hand comes to a pause, as you look up at him quizzically.

“I never do.”

“Oh.” You don’t know what else to say. While Ominis shared little of his family, you knew they didn’t get on well with each other.

“Don’t worry about it, little dove.” He turns, his eyes immediately falling on you. He chuckles, poking at the frown you didn’t even realize you had. Your heart flutters at his sudden tenderness.

“Besides, I won’t be alone this time.”

You smile shyly. “What about Sebastian?”

“Went home early to spend the holidays with Anne.”

Ah.

“That makes sense,” you brush the loose strands of hair that tickle your face as you look down once again. “...You didn’t want to go with him?”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to get rid of me,” he nudges you playfully.

“No, never!” You quickly chase away any wrongfully read intentions. Little did he know, this was by far, one of the best ways you could be spending your Christmas.

“Good,” He looks pleased, returning to scribble notes down. His pen pauses, twirling slightly between his pale fingers as if he is carefully piecing together his next words. “You’ll spend Christmas with me then?”

You bite your lip, hiding the fact that you are completely over the moon that he even asked.

“If you’re alright with having me,” you glance up at him through your hair shyly only to find that he’s already turned towards you, answering your silly question with a gracious smile.

“I’ll meet you at your common room on Christmas morning then.” He returns to his assignment as a comfortable silence falls between the two of you for the rest of the evening.

“I have a feeling you haven’t heard a single word I’ve said,” Poppy grins knowingly as she knocks on the bottom barrel. With your exams out of the way, she invited you back to the Hufflepuff common room to spend some time together before she returned home.

“Oh shush,” you usher her into the common room, away from any prying eyes or ears. Nobody but Poppy knew of the fact that Ominis Gaunt had you completely enamored in all respects. Merlin forbid anyone accidentally overhearing her usual teases.

“I don’t understand,” Poppy picks up an apple on the way to her room, with you trailing not too far behind. She takes a bite, “It sounds like he’s totally into you.”

You shrug, wanting to change the subject. But she closes the large wooden door behind you, plopping down on the nearest bed, patting on the mattress and inviting you to join her.

“You like him.” She asks slowly.

You manage a slow nod, feeling your cheeks heat up – embarrassed to finally admit it aloud.

“You should totally tell him then.” She giggles, nudging your shoulder playfully.

“Well,” you say sheepishly before confessing the plans you made with Ominis to spend Christmas morning together.

“No way!” She gasps, apple in hand totally forgotten. You nod through your giggles. Night had fallen by the time you told her the full extent of your feelings for Ominis. Both of your eyes began to droop and before either one of you knew it, winter break had snuck up on you and Poppy was on her way home.

Christmas time at Hogwarts was your favorite. There was truly no word to describe it except magical. The halls were decorated with wreaths and ribbon, every corridor filled with the scent of earthy pine, with wafts of gingerbread trickling in every so often from the Great Hall. By this time, most of the students had returned home, leaving the castle unusually quiet.

In the early hours of the morning, before anyone else was awake, Ominis was true to his word and snuck his way over to your common room. He steps through the doorway in just his nightclothes and dark emerald robes; his usually gelled hair falling in tuffs over his silver eyes as he bends down, careful not to hit his head on the low ceiling.

“I thought I’d be caught for sure,” he laughs, a little out of breath, running a hand through his hair as he stands up straight.

“As did I,” you tease, “I’m surprised to see you breaking the rules Mr. Gaunt.”

His chuckle is faint as he follows you in towards the empty lounge area, the both of you falling to the floor, unconsciously huddling close together around the toasty fireplace.

“That little faith in me?”

“Well,” you jest, elongating your words for good measure. “You must be spending too much time with Sebastian. Here I thought that he was the one who was always up to no good — never in a million years did I imagine I’d be harboring “rule breaker” Ominis Gaunt.”

“I suppose I’m willing to break a rule or two for you, little dove.” He leans just enough so that your shoulders are touching. A small smile ghosts his lips, his gaze immediately drawn to your sudden closeness. Ominis always seemed to be drawn to your presence — like moth to a flame.

“Don’t tell me that,” you purse your lips, hiding your smile. “At this point, I’d just think you’re trying to get on my good side...”

He pauses. And for a second you think you’ve spoken out of turn.

“Is it working?” He plays with the ring on his middle finger. “Am I on your good side?”

Your smile falters for only a moment — realizing that he ever had the thought that you may think of him any less than you already do.

“You always are,” you say softly before looking down. “But…I don’t want to get greedy.”

There's a pause between the both of you and you think you've messed up everything. However, Ominis is the first to break the silence.

“Little dove,” his fingers hook under your chin, gently guiding you to look up at him. “You can be as greedy as you’d like.”

For a moment, you recall Poppy’s words wondering if they had held any truth. Your lips part, taking a deep breath to gain control of your nerves. Ominis must have taken notice. He pulls away quickly, looking down before changing the subject.

“Join me in the Greenhouse tonight.”

“The Greenhouse?” You ponder aloud, wondering what in the world would draw him to the Greenhouse on Christmas day.

He nods. “I…There’s something I’d like to show you.”

How did you wind up being so lucky – getting to spend the entirety of the day with the man who had secretly captured your heart. How could you say no?

“If you’d like.” He quickly adds.

“Of course, Ominis.” You cover your mouth to hide the giggle that threatened to spill out. “How you spoil me so.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, almost as if he is relieved by your answer. “Tonight then.”

The wind was unforgiving, the icy air nipping at your warm cheeks as you followed him quickly in pursuit. With the darkness of night keeping you hidden, the two of you made your way down the spiraling steps, through the large copper doors and into the warm, welcoming confines of the Greenhouse.

“After you,” he holds the door open, allowing you to pass first. A gentleman to his very core. The small gesture makes you smile sheepishly. Following the steps, you finally stop in front of the large wooden planter; wild bluebells singing a sweet song – the cold wind from outside disturbing their slumber.

You pull down your hood, fiddling with the drawstrings, and doing your best to hide your nervousness.

“I wanted to show you something.” He’s not too far behind you, removing his hood as well, fair strands of hair falling to his eyes, making it hard to read his expression clearly. Was he nervous too?

“What is it?” You hold your hands behind your back, slowly walking towards him to get a better look.

“Well.” He begins towards you, closing the gap between the two of you. “It’s Christmas, y’know?”

You cock your head to the side but can’t hide your smile. His nervous rambling was one of the things you absolutely adored about Ominis.

“And I didn’t get you anything.”

“Oh Ominis,” you manage to find your voice, “I’m not expecting any gifts from you.”

“I know.” He interrupts, his voice dropping a soft murmur. “But I wanted to.”

“I– … Here.” He holds out a gold chain, dangling at the end is a beautiful stone in the shape of a small dove – its chiseled edges shimmering amidst the moonlight each time it twirls.

You don’t know what to say. He gestures for you to turn, before gently brushing your hair out of the way. His arms carefully lock around you, clasping the dainty piece of jewelry around your neck – his cold touch lingering just long enough to make you want more as soon as he pulls away.

You feel the little dove that hangs at your chest; his thoughtful gift almost brings tears to your eyes.

“Ominis, I –...” You sniff, turning around to face him, “It’s beautiful, thank you. But I feel horrible, I didn’t get you anything!”

“Oh but you did, little dove.” He steps closer, “Getting to spend Christmas with you is more than I could ever ask for.”

His soft words make you feel like the summer sunshine was beaming down and heating your skin; Your cheeks flushing as you feel the slight rustle of your robes, his closeness making your heart skip a beat.

The silence that ensues is filled with a small rustling sound overhead. Peering up, the shimmering glow of the lacewing flies illuminating the dainty decor that was now hanging above the both of you; Its crimson beady berries seemingly taunting you.

Oh.

“Mistletoe,” Ominis murmurs softly.

“So it is,” you say, barely above a whisper.

“I have something important to tell you,” there is a slight shake in his voice, almost as if he is afraid to speak his next words.

“Yes?” you whisper, encouraging him to continue.

“But I’m afraid it’ll mess up what we already have.”

You shake your head, assuring him that there was nothing to fear.

“This isn’t easy for me,” his warm breath is visible against the cold air. He reaches out towards you slowly, his hand pausing inches before touching your skin — hesitant. Scared. “I’ve never…not like this.”

You step forward, closing the gap between the two of you.

“But — you matter to me.” He gasps, feeling your cold touch against his cheek.

“Ominis?” You trail your fingertips along his fair skin and to your surprise, he closes his eyes and leans into your palm.

You are certain yet your words are only but a murmur, “Kiss me—“

He cuts you off, cupping your face in his hands as he leans down and brushes his lips to yours; Hesitant as if he is still asking for your permission. His minty breath fans across yours as he slightly pulls away, his hands gently searching your face for any uncertainty.

You can only manage a small nod, assuring him that it was okay. This time, he is anything but gentle – pressing his lips against your own, hungry and desperate to pull you in close. As your fingers make their way around his neck, he wraps his arms around your smaller frame – the both of you allowing yourselves to be completely consumed – and enraptured by each other.

The mandrake leaves shudder, mimicking you as they dig themselves deeper into the dirt — just as you were falling deeper, losing yourself in all of the man that was Ominis Gaunt.

#ominis gaunt fanfiction #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x you #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt fluff #ominis x you #ominis x reader #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy x reader

354 notes · View notes