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nariism · 8 months

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come out and haunt me

pair. itoshi sae x ghost!reader

content: fluff, angst/comfort with a happy ending, reader is a ghost, platonic + romantic interactions, strangers to friends (to more?), slight pining

synopsis. sae is 13 years old when he moves to madrid. his temporary apartment is old and cheap, and worst of all it's haunted. but he finds your company better than nothing, even if you do tend to knock all of his belongings over.

wc. 5.7k

You are dead.

As it comes to all mortal humans, you have died. You can't remember when, or how, or why— only that it is your duty to haunt this home, that you are abysmally cold, and that you are dead.

You don't know if you had any last words, what it was like to draw a breath, or how to stop feeling so cold. Cradling yourself somehow makes it worse. But you are dead, so what does it matter if you can't remember?

If you had aspirations and meaning in life, then you suppose you should try to find them in death, too. So you float around empty halls, deliberately bump into things just for the fun of it, and pretend that you aren't dead. It is purposeful enough.

There's a boy who lives with you.

You are dead, and he is alive, yet he seems completely unbothered by your loud, obnoxious presence.

Sae feels more dead than alive.

He is 13 years old when he moves into his temporary home in Madrid. It's old and worn. It is all his parents could afford with Yen in a foreign country.

His new home is despairingly lonely. It makes the heart in his chest sink into the pit of his stomach. He misses Rin. His parents. Japan.

He should be thankful. He doesn't mean to be a brat. But the small apartment is cramped and cold and smells like mildew. He's allergic to something in the walls. His light buzzes horribly when it turns on.

And, well. The place is haunted.

You are a ghost haunting an old, rickety apartment in Madrid.

You've never seen your reflection in the mirror, but you're pretty sure you look scary. There has been others before him— a young couple with a dog; a retired carpenter; a businessman complaining about how shitty work is over the phone. Each and every one of them have left you the same way: screaming, crying, colour drained from their faces and packing their suitcase before you could even say hello.

It's a little lonely, being a ghost. Sometimes you wish you came off a little friendlier. You have no ill intent, you're just bored. Bored and lonely and wishing to know why everyone thinks you're so terrifying.

The boy who lives with you is the first. He's the first to look you dead in the eyes and shrug you off. He's the first to fall asleep knowing your presence is watching. He's the first to leave out a bowl of warm, steaming rice for you even though he seems to know you can't physically eat it.

His company is silent, as is yours. It's better than nothing.

Sae is 13 years and 5 months old when he tells Rin his apartment is haunted.

"A ghost? Seriously?" Rin sounds unimpressed even through the static of the phone call. Take it from the kid who watches horror movies in his spare time. Freak, Sae thinks.

"Seriously. I have a picture."

He can hear his brother pulling his phone away from his ear to look at the image he just sent. The call goes quiet for a moment, and then Rin is scoffing in the microphone again.

"Quit messing with me." The younger Itoshi sighs. "This isn't funny."

Rin is only 11. He lives at home with Mom and Dad. He's not alone right now, in a place where everyone speaks a jumbled language he can't decipher yet.

He doesn't understand that even if Sae isn't being haunted, he shouldn't crush his brother's hopes that someone, or something, is watching over him.

"I'm not," Sae deadpans.

"Yeah, okay, and what does this ghost do, then?" He still sounds skeptical.

"Mostly just knocks over my books and stuff."

From his couch, he watches you bristle in embarrassment and scurry away into the darkness of the hall.

You are some sort of untethered soul, unsure of where your actual body rests. It could be 10 meters from this apartment. It could be in Antarctica, for all you know.

Okay, well, Antarctica is a bit of a reach, but you're certain that your body is somewhere. You wonder what kind of clothes you used to wear; what kind of music you used to listen to; what kind of hairstyle you used to prefer.

You wonder if these things are anything like Sae's.

He's all you have right now. It would be nice if you had some things in common. Maybe you could be friends, if he was ever going to acknowledge you to your face instead of gossiping to his brother.

You watch him quietly from the kitchen table, waiting for your bowl of rice. You must make some kind of face when he instead places a plate of eggs in front of you.

He almost laughs, you think. He hasn't shown any sort of emotion in response to you thus far, so it's hard to tell.

"Coaches told me I have to be stricter about my diet," he says out loud. It's the first words he has ever spoken to you. It's the first words anyone has ever spoken to you.

He eats his bland eggs silently after that remark, eyeing them disdainfully.

You have that in common, at least. You miss your warm bowl of rice.

Sae thinks you are funny.

He's only ever known ghosts to be malicious, benevolent beings. Things stuck in purgatory with no way out, forced to wander the mortal plane and thus turning into baneful monsters. Watching spooky movies with Rin has ingrained this into him— hardwired his brain into giving him goosebumps whenever you're around even though he knows you're harmless.

He has to wonder how anyone could ever find a ghost like you genuinely scary, with your avoidant eyes and that patience while you wait for breakfast.

He doesn't mind doing twice the amount of dishes. Not if it means he doesn't feel alone.

You do silly things, like shoving his belongings over when you want his attention, or sitting on the floor and blowing bone-chillingly cold air into his face when he's taking his midday nap.

He's discovered that your inconsistent corporeal interactions with the world are quite amusing.

"What's your name?" He asks one day over eggs that he's shoving around on his plate.

Silence. Of course.

"Don't have one?"

You shake your head, but really, you don't know. You can't remember.

Sae has never been the talkative type, but for some reason he just can't keep his mouth closed. Being a complete shut-in and not having anyone to talk to outside of his team would do that to him, he guesses. He's thankful that you at least don't seem to have a language barrier when he speaks Japanese.

"Should I name you?"

Your offended expression screams: What am I, a pet?

He just smiles, placing his fork down and observing you carefully. And the name he decides on dances at the tip of his tongue, sounds so sweet coming from his lips.

You can't help but think the name was meant for you, in life or in death.

You like listening to Sae talk.

He has a voice smooth as silk, so charming and boyish. He's young, you think. He told you once that you also looked rather young, and asked you how old you were when you died.

Even if you had an answer for him, it's not like you could have told him.

Sae is famous for his age, you discover one night while watching television with him. You're sitting on the floor and he's on the couch. You cause the TV to frizzle and crack with static but he doesn't shoo you away. Maybe he finds your presence more valuable than the background noise of the screen.

He's in a recording, playing what he calls "football"— light blue uniform, eyes wide with adrenaline, sweat sticking to his forehead and a proud shine in his expression. He isn't smiling by any means (you've also discovered that he rarely does), but you can tell he's happy.

"I'm going to be the greatest striker," he says from the couch. He talks about his dreams a lot, which is apparently what he used to do with Rin, but you don't mind filling in that role temporarily. "I'm going to be the best in the entire world."

You don't know anything about football, but you believe him anyways.

Sae is 14 years old when he gets his first contract payment.

This is his chance, he realizes, to move out of his shitty little apartment and into an actual livable home.

He has to consider if you'll feel lonely, if you even can feel lonely, and if you'll like hanging out with your next housemate, whoever it is that's unlucky enough to have a ghost befall them.

He's getting soft. If it were any other point in his life, Sae would have taken the chance to move out without hesitation. But you've been there for him since day one, kept him enough company — no matter how quiet — for him not to go literally insane.

You're the only thing he has in Madrid that he can come home to right now. You’re the only reason he even comes home at night instead of just sleeping in the locker rooms.

If not him, who else would feed you crappy bland eggs in the morning?

You, football, sleep. You, football, sleep. You, football, sleep. At some point, it became his routine.

"I was thinking of moving out."

Your head tilts to the side. You seem perplexed by his statement.

"Like, leaving. Leaving here."

You blink at him, head tilting the other way. There's a look in your eyes that tells him you understand. There's also a look that tells him it's not your first time being abandoned, left in this terribly lonely, smelly apartment.

"I can never tell what you're thinking," he huffs.

You're still for a moment, just staring at him as if you suddenly can't understand Japanese. But then you get up from the table, walk over to the container of dry rice that's been untouched for so long that it's gathering dust, and knock it over.

"Hey," he scolds sharply, chair screeching as he stands. "I have to clean that, you know?"

You start moving the spilled rice into place. He watches curiously as you sort dry rice into a pile. You don't know any Kanji, he isn't surprised. But you know enough to draw him a universally understood symbol.

When he peers over at the messy counter, he finds himself staring at a giant X. Stay, it means. Don't leave.

That night, when he knows you've retreated into the closet where you seemingly go to sleep, he crumples up the lease for his new place without signing and burns the paper.

It's because he needs to make you eggs tomorrow morning. Only he would know to do that.

"Do ghosts ever have dreams?"

You raise your head from the edge of the bed. You've made it a new habit to protect him in his sleep, from what he can tell. Perching yourself on the floor beside the mattress and resting there, head in your arms, making his sheets cold.

You shake your head. Of course not, he internally smacks himself. What a ridiculous notion.

He rolls himself over onto his side, looking at you from under his duvet. "So when you sleep, you don't see anything?"

Another shake of the head. He isn't sure you're understanding him. There's another pause as he peers at you, and then he sighs, eyes sliding shut.

"Do ghosts ever have dreams?" He asks again, this time emphasizing his words in a different way and hoping you'll answer him the way he wants.

Your eyes shift away for a second, as if pondering. When you look back he's surprised to see that you look... bashful?

You point at him, then at yourself, then shy away again.

You. Me. Friends.

Sae feels silly that it makes his heart ache a little— the sadness carried in your face and a loneliness so powerful he feels it rattling in his own bones.

Well, the two of you have a lot more in common than he thought. How long had you been alone? Was that really all you ever dreamed of? Having a friend?

Suddenly, his doubts about his own dreams feel immeasurably small.

He reaches out to pat your head. His hand goes through you.

Sae is 15 years old when he packs up his belongings for a flight to Japan.

"I'll be back," he promises with a small smile. You believe him. He doesn't lie to you.

You wait patiently at the door for him for two weeks, three days, and sixteen hours. When he comes home, he finds you sitting on the floor like you always do with your head in your knees and a sleepy expression on your face.

He seems colder. More withdrawn, for some reason.

"Miss me?" Sae asks, but he's not even looking at you. He makes his way over to the kitchen and dumps a cup of rice into the cooker, suitcase abandoned at the door unpacked.

You trail behind him curiously, watching him in confusion as he washes it in the sink. He pauses, finally glancing at you before reaching over and dumping a second cup of rice in.

"I stress eat. Don't tell my coach."

The words don't make much sense to you, but you nod anyways.

For the first time in months, he places a bowl of warm rice in front of you. You do as he does, say thanks for the food in your head even though you can't eat, and observe him. You both sit quietly in the dim light of the apartment, moonlight beaming through your single rickety window.

He only gets four bites in before he puts his head in his hands and sobs.

You've never seen someone cry so hard before. Usually, they only do it when they first catch a glimpse of you and flee in terror. You've never known it to be such a painful sound— like a bird singing for the sky but never finding it.

Sae sits there for a long time just crying to himself, not caring that your presence is still watching. It's not like you'd ever judge him or have the voice to speak this secret, anyways.

"Fuck—" he hiccups, wiping up his face. "—Sorry."

You look at him funny. He has no reason to apologize. He's just a kid. A 15 year old kid who needs to stress eat in the solitude of his lonely apartment right now. It makes your chest squeeze; an unfamiliar, horrible feeling that's completely new to you. You wonder if this is what all the anime he watches calls a heart.

By the time he finishes crying, his rice is cold. And when he looks up, his eyes widen. Your lips are trembling and you look like you want to shout at him, but you can't. You are dead. You're a ghost. You can't yell some sense into him, even if you tried.

In the pale moonlight shining into the room, he can see tears illuminated on your cheeks.

Sae is 16 years old when he meets his first partner.

"They're nice," he reassures you as he slicks his bangs up with gel. You shake your head in disapproval and he rolls his eyes. You always liked his bangs down, thinks he looks better that way. "Well, I can't stay single forever."

You scowl at him and swivel on your heel to stubbornly deny his claims. He just laughs.

"You're seriously jealous?"

You shoot him a glare.

"If you really don't like them, you could always scare them away. You are a ghost, aren't you?" He reaches up to pat your head as he always does. And as always, his hand phases through you.

He turns around to fix his hair again, leaning into the mirror to see himself closer.

You're not sure if you even have human features. You can't see them in a reflection, anyways. Even if you did, you're sure they're pretty scary.

You glance at Sae in the reflection. He looks as good as ever, no longer a scrawny little 13 year old kid who eats rice for breakfast every morning. You wonder if his partner is pretty like he is.

He must notice the chill in the air grow ten times colder— a telling sign that your mood is dropping. He turns around to see what has happened, only to find you sulking.

"What?"

You pout, gesturing to the mirror. He looks to the vanity, then to you, and he shakes his head with an exasperated smile.

"I was wondering when you'd ask," he says as if this was a conversation he's been waiting for. And then he talks. Talks more than you've heard in a long time— since he came home from Japan, probably.

He's gotten meaner over the years. He was always a rude little kid, but being pushed around in football must have given him thicker skin and a sharper tongue. You've never known him to be a saint of a human, someone who speaks so eloquently in their descriptions. But here he is now, defying your every expectation like he always does.

He tells you what colour your hair is. Compares the shape of your head to a fruit you can't recall an image of. Gives you a detailed explanation of all your flaws and marks and why he thinks they're so perfect because it proves that you were indeed alive and human at some point.

"You're beautiful," he concludes casually, as if he's not turning the entire world on its head right now.

Silence fills the room as he waits for your response. You don't do anything but gawk at him, and he chuckles.

He doesn't show up to his date that night.

"Your hair got longer," Sae points out one day while he's scrolling through his phone.

Your eyes flutter open from where your head rests on the coffee table. You hadn't even noticed. Can ghosts grow?

"You know, I used to think you'd stay the same forever, but you've been growing up with me. It's cute."

Have you? Is it cute? Are you seriously so tethered to him that you've been unconsciously changing to match him?

Sae puts his phone down at your confusion. "Should I give you a birthday if you're going to grow up?"

You don't know what a birthday is. When he tries to explain it, you're even more perplexed. Ghosts don't have birthdays. They have... deathdays.

He puts a cake in front of you anyways and lets you blow out the candles.

Sae is 17 years old when he gets the eviction notice.

Four years. Four long, hard, unbelievably painful years later, and he's finally being kicked out of his house.

13 year old Sae would have celebrated. All he feels now is despair.

He doesn't tell you. He can't. How can he explain that he won't wake up every morning at 6am sharp to make you eggs? That you won't have someone around who will tell you every little thing that's changed about you from the last day? That you won't be able to doodle him little incomprehensible blobs with dry rice anymore?

He shouldn't care so much. You're not chained to this Earth. You might just disappear once he leaves, inperceptable to anyone else. The thought makes him so sick that he throws up that night. He tells you he ate some bad food.

Sae doesn't want you to feel sad or lonely, but it's not like he can just become a squatter in this place. His dream is to play football, not be thrown into jail.

You wake up one morning, and he's gone.

There isn't a note. There isn't an explanation anywhere to be found. There isn't even a trace of evidence that Itoshi Sae ever lived here.

Well, except for the plate of eggs and bowl of rice sitting on the stove.

You thought you would have been used to being alone by now. For some time, you were used to it. But that was many years ago.

You're not sure how long you've been haunting this apartment in Madrid, nor do you know how much time passes after Sae leaves. The world seems to come to a halt, actually. Without him, what fun is being a ghost?

Now you're just a lost soul like all the others. There isn't anything special about you. You're just the ghost that used to haunt Itoshi Sae and wake him up from his naps.

For the first time in years, you only know one thing. A singular fact that keeps you bound to this world: it's your duty to haunt this home. There is nothing else.

No one moves in after Sae leaves. No one new comes to be haunted. No one dares to set foot into this apartment. You remember that there were moments when life flickered inside of you, if even for just a fraction of your infinite time. The reason for that has abandoned you without explanation.

There's a knock on the door one day. You can't open it, and the person outside doesn't bother sticking around to see you phasing through the door to look around.

There's a birthday cake on the floor with candles that say '19' sticking out of it.

Only one human in the entire world would have deemed today to be your 19th birthday. He's nowhere to be seen.

He moves back to Japan on his 21st birthday. Sae is having trouble remembering what you look like, despite seeing you in his dreams every night.

It's a terrible realization. So terrible that it makes him sob into his pillow at night when no one in the world is awake to hear his anguish.

Japan is lonelier than Madrid. He never thought it would happen, and he blames you entirely.

He doesn't have anyone waiting for him when he opens the door to his luxury penthouse apartment. He only washes one plate in the morning. He wakes up from his midday naps undisturbed and rested.

Sae misses you deeply. And he can't help but wonder if you feel the same.

(You don't know what the yearning ache inside of you is. You don't know what to call it.

You miss him, too. You just can't put a name to the feeling.)

He doesn't stop seeing you in wisps; little blurs in his peripheral that make his head turn fast as lightning. Wherever he looks, you're gone.

It's not fair that you're a ghost who both literally and figuratively haunts him. He'd like to move on in life and forget about those 4 miserable years he spent living in that damned apartment.

He can't. Sae is incapable of moving on from that place. The irony of it is that you actually can't move on from that place, for some reason.

He would give anything to have you haunting him again. It doesn't matter where in the world the two of you are, if you were together everything would be okay. He's impossibly lonely without you.

You start to think that you're the selfish one.

The idea of leaving this terrible apartment in Madrid scares you to your very core— whatever soul is resting in your incorporeal body. It's not fair to place the blame entirely on Sae. Not when you're too wimpy to leave this place and find him.

Death is lonely without him.

One step forward, one day at a time. It's the advice Sae used to mutter to himself while getting ready in the morning.

One step forward, one day at a time. One step forward, one day at a time. And day by day, you're slowly inching closer to the door.

Sae talks to Rin and all he can think about is your confused smiles and head tilts. He talks to his parents and all he can imagine is how cold the room would be if it were you. He talks to his fucking therapist and thinks that all of her shitty advice can't compare to your quiet understanding— that your tears of solidarity are the only thing that could make him feel better.

It's fucked up, really, that he can't move on. His body is in Japan going through the motions: playing football, being famous, being interviewed and going home to nothing. His heart is in Madrid. You took it with you and refuse to let go.

You're the closest thing to love he's ever felt, perhaps— his only friend in Spain. His only reason not to leave. A ghost from his childhood that protected him in his sleep and ate bland eggs for breakfast across the table from him every morning. A ghost that would sit on the floor and wait for him to come home every day. A ghost that kept him company when he had no one else.

He loves you. He doesn't. He needs you. He doesn't. He misses you. He doesn't. Whatever. What does it matter now?

"So playing football has always been your dream?"

Sae stares blankly at the interviewer. He's reminded of a distant conversation: he is laying in bed looking at a ghost with a lump in his throat, and then he makes his first and only friend in Spain.

"Yes."

"And now that you're back in Japan, will you be playing for the national team?"

"I have no interest in playing on such a weak team." In other words, he has no reason to stay in Japan.

"So where will you go?"

Anywhere but here, he wants to say. In reality, he doesn't know where to go anymore if not to his old apartment in Spain. He just knows that he wants to come home to your sleepy face.

(That night, he makes two bowls of rice. He cries like he's 15 years old again and just ruined his relationship with his brother.)

You've never been outside before.

You've heard about it, almost entirely from Sae but also from little snippets of anime he liked to watch. It's brighter than you imagined it to be, and warmer. You're not sure you've ever felt so warm before— it's hard to when you are a walking freezer.

There isn't anyone to tell you where to go. No one pays you any mind. You wonder if you even exist anymore outside of the small confines of that old apartment.

Something tells you that you do.

You don't know where to start looking. He could be all the way across the globe for all you know, though he did used to talk about his home country.

You have no map. You have no sense of direction. You have no one to ask for help.

All you have is the soul caged within your ghostly body tugging in one direction, and wispy feet dragging your body along in response.

Sae is 23 years old when he finally signs the contract to play for Japan, after months of being pestered by Rin about it.

His relationship with his brother is complicated. On one hand, he feels as though Rin will never truly forgive him for what he did when he was 15. On the other, he looks so ecstatic to be playing football together again that Sae wonders if their discourse was imaginary.

Japan is just a smidge less lonely with Rin in his life.

He wants to tell you all about it. That everything worked out and it's fine now. That you can stop weeping for him and to wipe up the tears that fall into nothing.

He counts the distance between you. Fourteen thousand kilometres separate him from telling you how he's living his new dream: playing football with his little brother again.

Fourteen thousand kilometers, ten years of needing you, and a reminder set on his phone to buy you a birthday cake again this year.

His heart aches.

Japan is loud and busy and everyone is always in a hurry to get places.

You have to wonder if Sae really grew up in a city like this, and how he turned out so calm and unmovable. The street names are all in Kanji you can't read, but your soul tells you that you're going the right way, anyways.

There's a crowd gathering when your feet finally come to a halt. Lights flash and there are fancy looking people with microphones clamouring toward the center.

It's only a fraction of a second that your eyes meet, and then someone shoves him into the back of the car and they drive off.

He must be famous here, too.

Sae is 24 years old tossing and turning in his bed, wondering if you were just a figment of his imagination or if you were truly standing there under a streetlamp watching him.

It wouldn't be the first time he dreamed you into existence; on some occasions you feel so real that he nearly reaches out to attempt to pat your head, like he always used to do when he was younger.

He goes back to that spot a couple hours later. The crowd is long gone and it's the dead of night— no one would be around to witness Itoshi Sae looking psychotic.

He doesn't find you in that spot. Instead, you're two blocks down and crouched in front of the window of a 24 hour shop. There's an ad for sparklers, and though you can't read the poster itself, the picture makes you stare with wide eyes.

He crouches down beside you as if 7 years of distance never existed between you.

"Do you want one?" He asks. You look at him in a strange way and his knees grow weak beneath him. You nod.

He comes out five minutes later with a few packs in his hand, walking away from you down the street to the park. You follow him quietly as if 7 years of distance never existed between you.

Sae holds one out, flicks the lighter in his pocket open and ignites the first sparkler. You watch it in fascination, ghostly form illuminated in warm orange and yellow light.

He smiles at you as if 7 years of distance never existed between you.

When the sparkler dies out, he lights another. And another. And another, until he's gone through all the packets he could afford with the Yen in his wallet right now.

As if 7 years of distance never existed between you, he reaches out to pat your head. His hand falls through you.

You think Sae's new apartment is pretentious, but it's clean and open and doesn't smell like mildew.

It's hard to imagine what kind of purpose you had before him— all your memories are flooded with his hands and eyes and bangs and small smiles reserved for you. You think that the only reason you were ever materialized into the mortal plane was to haunt him, and only him. Itoshi Sae's permanent looming presence.

He doesn't seem to mind. In fact, you've noticed he's been smiling more lately since you started waiting for him to come home by the door.

Sae is 25 years old when you fall asleep beside him in his bed.

You don't care that he's a kicker or a blanket hog in his sleep. It's not like either of those would affect you. He watches your sleeping face carefully, waiting to see if he would ever wake up from this blissful dream and be alone again.

But every time he wakes up, there you are.

You've grown since he left you in Madrid— you don't look like some lost little kid anymore, at least. He wonders if your souls are truly so intertwined that you would change alongside him, regardless of the distance.

Your eyes flutter open and his breath catches in his throat. You blink at him slowly in the pale moonlight, brows furrowed.

You point at him. Then yourself.

You. Me.

He nods in understanding.

When he drops a plate of protein pancakes in front of you for breakfast, you look confused.

"Oh, sorry. Do you want rice?"

You shake your head. You don't care what's for breakfast, as long as you're sitting across from him while he eats it.

"I'm going to be the world's best midfielder," he tells you one day. You're on the floor and he's on the couch, and it's like time had never even passed.

You don't know what that means, but it's his dream so it must be important. The most important thing in the world.

What you don't know is that it's not his entire dream. World's best midfielder doesn't mean a thing if he can't come home to tell you all about it.

You are dead.

You're a ghost haunting Itoshi Sae— one that followed him from Madrid all the way to Japan. You don't remember how, or when, or why you died. You can't remember what your face looks like either, no matter how much Sae tries to describe it to you.

You are dead. You're a ghost knocking over Sae's belongings to get his attention when you want it. You're the ghost curled up in bed with him even though he has to wear two layers to stay warm because of it. You're the ghost watching him rotate through different breakfasts that he says could never compare to a good old warm bowl of rice.

You are a ghost, and Itoshi Sae gave you a name. A birthday. A purpose greater than being a loud nuisance.

You are a ghost who likes to watch him light sparklers on his balcony. Who feels the things described only in the books he reads to you. Who learned to love somewhere along the way.

You are dead, and somehow alive at the same time.

(One day, Sae will be brave. One day, he will tell you he loves you. One day, he will thank you for waiting for him at the door when he comes home.)

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anto-pops · 1 year

Text

Atonement PART 2 - Dark!Sebastian Sallow x Female!Reader

Summary: "Love has within it a redemptive power. And there is a power there that eventually transforms individuals. Just keep being friendly to that person. Just keep loving them, and they can't stand it too long. Oh, they react in many ways in the beginning. They react with guilt feelings, and sometimes they'll hate you a little more at that transition period, but just keep loving them. And by the power of your love they will break down under the load. That's love, you see. It is redemptive."

Word Count: 7.8k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, hurt/comfort, explicit sexual content, rough sex

This ended up being 8 pages of straight sin, I refused to let the make-up sex be short so SORRY if it's a lot of horny word babble LMAO

As always, the full fic can be found here on Ao3! Part 1 of Atonement can also be found here on Tumblr

The Clagmar Coast was brutally cold.

You’d apparated yourself and Sebastian to a secluded cove nestled between the rocky mountains and the shoreline. It was far from the main roads the village folk used to travel this way, giving you a modicum of privacy that you planned to make good on for the night. Trudging through the chilled, wet sand towards a dilapidated cabin, Sebastian shuddered against the piercing breeze.

“That pile of wood won’t do shit– we’ll freeze to death before morning.”

Biting back a snide comment of your own, you rolled your eyes instead. “It’s just an illusionment charm. See?”

Sebastian followed the line of your pointed finger and spotted a shimmering glow emanating a foot away from the door. He had to focus hard to see it, but now that he knew what he was looking for, it was easier to pinpoint the blurred movement of the spell, as though it were swaying in sync with the breeze.

“Exactly how much prep work went into this scheme of yours?” Sebastian asked, amusement coloring his tone as he glanced at you.

You deflected the veiled compliment with a shrug and kept your eyes trained on the cabin, increasing your pace to escape the icy wind and the feeling of his eyes on you. “Enough to get us this far. There’s bags inside already packed with some essentials, and extra clothes you can change into. I’ll need to double check a few things before we leave in the morning but feel free to get some sleep– I’m sure you’re tired after today.”

Sebastian frowned as you strode ahead, fixing his narrowed eyes on the back of your head as you disappeared through the shimmering veil of magic. He quickly followed suit, emerging on the other side to find a wholly intact cabin with warm firelight spilling through the open doorway. You were already inside, rummaging around in a desk for Merlin knows what to occupy yourself in favor of talking.

What the hell was your problem?

“Can I help you with anything? Maybe a fresh set of eyes will–”

“It’s fine,” you cut him off hurriedly as you rose from your crouched spot behind the thick oak table. “I mean– I’ll take care of it, thank you. It’s okay, really. Go get cleaned up, I’m sure you’re itching to ditch the prison uniform.”

He was still rubbed the wrong way by your sudden change in behavior, but he allowed himself a quick look down at the tattered fabric clinging to his scraggly form. You had a point. “Fine. Where are the extra clothes?”

You ignored the bite in his tone, fixing your eyes over his shoulder as you pointed him down the hallway to the bedroom. “In there. The washroom is on the right, and there should be soap in one of the bags. Take whatever you need.”

Without another word in your direction, Sebastian strode down the hallway and disappeared into the room, letting the door dramatically slam shut behind him hard enough to shake the walls. You didn’t have it in you to be bugged by it though. Instead you sighed, deflating against the surface of the desk while your heart hammered away in your chest.

Why was it suddenly so difficult to be near him? After months of planning and a never ending slew of sleepless nights, he was finally with you again, so why were you abruptly shutting yourself down in his presence?

Maybe it was because having him back made the last two years real. Seeing him in the flesh validated every terrible thought that had haunted your mind until now; that he wasn’t the same, that he was a broken man, and that deep down he probably hated you for what you had done to him. Sure, you’d saved him, but anyone would be grateful to make it out of a situation like that alive. The kiss meant nothing. It was simply a ‘thank you’ that you didn’t deserve.

These thoughts were getting you nowhere.

With a resolute sigh, you walked around the desk to collapse in a creaky chair, pinching the bridge of your nose before you started unraveling the map Ominis had given you months ago. It was covered in your messy scrawl, stray blots of ink staining the corners and betraying just how much time you’d actually spent slaving over your desperate plan.

The time passed in silence as you cross referenced the routes you’d charted leading from the coast to your next destination. Since there had been no way to know how rescuing Sebastian would go, the last leg of your journey was relatively unmapped. All you knew for certain was that staying in England was out of the question.

Scotland was far too close for comfort to consider any longer, so you axed it from your mind. France was promising, but also just a stone's throw away from London should the Ministry choose to expand their inevitable search. At the very least you could attempt to travel to one of the ports in the southern region to get farther away on a ship, but that still left the question of where the two of you would go unanswered.

You stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, your thoughts pulling you in a million different directions while the quill in your grip failed to obey. The fire crackling across the room was all you could hear, but your nerves had you on edge. More Ministry officials could appear at any moment, and while you were fairly certain you hadn’t been followed, your experiences in life thus far had taught you to expect the worst and hope for the best.

The feathered pen hung limp in your fingers as you shoved the heels of your palms into your eyes hard enough to see shapes, and you swore softly under your breath. But then the sudden feeling of a warm, calloused hand ghosting down your neck had you releasing the quill and jumping back in your seat, your wide eyes flying to Sebastian’s as he yanked his arm away. His hair was still wet from his bath, the dripping strands soaking through the fabric of the borrowed, black button down he wore. Your heart hammered in your ears as you took in his appearance. Despite the more slender frame he now bore, the clothes didn’t swallow him up, instead accentuating his long legs and lithely muscled biceps. His long fingers curled into fists at his side, and you observed as his entire upper half tensed up uncomfortably.

“Are you afraid of me?”

The question pulled your attention from Sebastian’s body back to his stormy expression, and your stomach flipped. He looked angry. More than that, he sounded almost… offended.

“Of course not,” you answered quickly and glanced back at the map. “You just startled me– I didn’t hear you leave the bedroom.”

His frown deepened, seemingly darkening the rings under his eyes in a way that conveyed he didn’t believe you in the slightest. “Then can you look at me when you speak to me?”

That commanding tenor in his voice made the hair on your arms stand on end, and you suppressed a shudder. This version of Sebastian was relatively new to you– he had never spoken to you with such a domineering timbre before, and you found yourself heeding his request. When your eyes met his, he seemed to relax a fraction of an inch, moving to perch on the edge of the desk so he wasn’t towering over you like an imposing statue.

“Why is it so hard for you to be near me?” He asked quietly, his eyes jumping between yours as if he could find the answer hidden somewhere in your gaze. “Why does staring at me make you look like you’re going to be sick? Am I really that far gone in your mind?”

It was like a punch to the gut, hearing him imply that you were unnerved by his presence. Your brows drew together, and you instinctively sat forward in your chair to lean closer to him. “No, Sebastian, never. I could never think that of you– I’m sorry…” You trailed off and hung your head sadly, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes. “The truth is I look at you and I feel guilty. Nothing I say or do can take away the last two years, and I don’t even know where to begin to make things right.”

“I mean, killing two Aurors was a pretty good place to start,” he chuckled darkly, shaking his head as though in disbelief. “If you feel so terrible about it, why did you turn me in? Surely you’ve done worse, what with your abilities and all that. Me killing Solomon should have been a minuscule blip on your moral compass.”

You scowled, blinking back the fat tears that threatened to spill forth. “I’m not scared now, but I was back then. You were unrecognizable, Sebastian, it was like you were possessed– and when all was said and done you just… disappeared for days. I had to fight Ranrok by myself, Fig died, and then I single handedly uprooted a five hundred year old secret and undid all of the Keepers’ work because despite everything you had done, a part of me still wanted to– I wanted to–”

The tears finally came, a choked sob ripping its way from your throat, and you buried your head in your hands to hide your face in shame. You heard papers shuffling as Sebastian angled himself to face you better, and when he lifted his hand as though to touch your shoulder, he stopped himself at the last second. It curled into a limp fist that fell against the desk.

His voice was much softer when he finally asked, “Wanted what? And what did you do?”

Sebastian was desperate to know what you were thinking. The need to understand your mentality and find out what you meant in regards to the Keepers was overwhelming; he remembered the pensive memory he’d viewed with you before everything fell apart, and how Isidora Morganach had harnessed the ability to remove a person’s pain. Was that what you were talking about?

Lifting your head, you fixed your swollen eyes on his hand in front of you. You decided it was easier to admit what you’d done if you couldn’t see his penetrating gaze boring down on you. “I still wanted to help you. I wanted to help Anne for you. So I took the power from the Repository– the same magic the Keepers made me swear to protect– I stole it and never went back to the Map Chamber. I assume they must know by now what I did, but it was easier to just avoid them after everything.”

Everything was starting to click into place. Your potent aura outside of King’s Cross Station made a lot more sense with the added knowledge that Isidora’s magic was now in fact yours, living and flowing within you. It had felt shockingly volatile, so at odds with the underlying warm, ancient magic you’d wielded since your fifth year. The combined energies had been like a vortex of light and dark, cutting and soothing the air simultaneously as you’d killed William without hesitation.

All for him?

Sebastian’s heartbeat kicked up in his chest as he finally let himself reach for you, and this time you didn’t leap away from his touch, instead letting him cradle your clasped, trembling hands in his own. His firm hold imbued you with the strength to look up at him, and when he saw the tearful glimmer in your eyes, Sebastian knew then that he had already forgiven you for turning him in. Even before seeing how raw your guilt had left you, he’d always known he would return to you. It was what had fueled his attempt at escaping Azkaban in the first place; the chance to see you again, and to apologize for ever taking you for granted.

“I’m so sorry, darling,” he brought your hands to his lips and murmured the apology against your knuckles, his breath ghosting over your skin causing you to shiver. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I should have known better than to keep pushing you and Ominis the way I did– and when I asked you for help with Anne, I never meant for you to do something you didn’t want to do– least of all something that would change who you are.”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat, turning your palms over so that you could intertwine your fingers with Sebastian’s much longer ones. It didn’t escape your attention how perfectly your hands still fit together. “I wanted to. You didn’t make me do anything, and while the side effects are ever… evolving, I’m still me. Just a bit more prone to violence, I suppose.”

He cocked his head to the side in interest. You hadn’t previously been one to start fights. During his time at school with you, it was often you mediating altercations and trying to break up arguments before things could escalate. At least, where Sebastian was concerned, you did. “Oh? So that marionette move you pulled on Singer earlier was entirely of your own volition?”

A sliver of trepidation coursed through him when your expression changed, morphing into a remorseless sneer that he didn’t recognize. “Yes. He was going to kill you.”

Nodding slowly, Sebastian allowed his next quip to die on his tongue in favor of tracing small circles on the back of your hand. He wasn’t sure what to say. As much as he knew you wanted to believe Azkaban had changed him drastically, the situation seemed to be the exact opposite. It was you who had gone through something of a rebirth, and it piqued Sebastian’s interest to no end.

What else about you had changed?

In a bid to switch topics, you pulled your hands away from Sebastian’s to rifle through the desk drawer. He watched you curiously as you found what you were looking for, and you tentatively pulled out his wand. The familiar checkered handle caught his attention instantaneously, and his bark of laughter was ripe with pleasant surprise. Your heart leapt at the sound, and you smiled in spite of yourself.

His fingers curled around the base slowly, as though he were in disbelief of the thin bit of wood. “You kept it? I thought the Ministry took it for good after I was arrested.”

“Mm, technically they did. Ominis gave it to me a few months ago when I asked him to help me track you down. I was just as surprised when he handed it over, but I think he believed I’d find you in time. He wanted you to get it back.”

Sebastian’s mouth opened and shut a few times as he took in your words, a fondness sweeping over his features. “Ominis helped you break me out?”

You nodded once, then paused as you reconsidered his role in everything. “Well, sort of. He gave me information about your transfer to London a few months ago. I asked him if he wanted to come with us once I found you, but he wanted to stay in case the Ministry started pestering Anne about your escape–”

“Anne is alive?” He cut you off in a hushed whisper, and his next few breaths seemed to shake his entire body. “How?”

You swallowed, “Isidora’s spell. The same one she used on her father— only I altered it. I can take a person’s pain but leave their soul untouched. She’s more comfortable now, at the very least, but her curse is as much a part of her as my ancient magic is a part of me. I can’t completely cure her of it, not without stripping her completely of what makes her whole. She has more time though, and it’s pain free.”

You watched his face with rapt interest, searching his expression for any signs of anger or disappointment, but to your surprise the crease between Sebastian’s brows vanished, and he looked wholly content. When he didn’t immediately say anything, you pressed him, “What are you thinking?”

Sebastian lifted his wandless hand to cradle the back of your neck, pulling your face closer to his until your foreheads were pressed together. He smelled strongly of the lavender soaps you’d packed, but underneath it was his own heady scent of cedar, and something akin to pine needles. You shamelessly sucked in a breath, and you felt his hold on the nape of your neck tighten a fraction.

“Thank you,” his dark eyes were trained solely on you, and the close proximity made your head spin, your eyes darting down to his lips momentarily. “You have no idea what it means to hear you say that. I fully expected her to… not be around, in the event I ever made it out. More time is fine– it’s perfect, even. I only ever wanted for her to be able to live the way she wanted, and it sounds like she can now thanks to you.”

Reaching up to wrap your fingers around his forearms, you flashed him a watery smile. “I really am sorry, Sebastian. For everything. If I could go back and change things I would– I should never have let the Ministry take you away–”

“Stop apologizing,” he implored you, his eyes dropping to your lips. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

He couldn’t be more wrong. “I have everything to be sorry for.”

“Hardly. I’m here now, aren’t I?” His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and the sight had your stomach churning expectantly.

“You are.”

“I thought about you all the time while I was there, you know.” Sebastian set his wand down on the desk to lightly grip your chin, tilting your face up to meet his hungry gaze. “Sometimes I would lose myself in my own head for days thinking about you. I missed you… I missed us.”

The minuscule distance between the two of you was driving any coherent thoughts from your mind. Suddenly all you could focus on was Sebastian’s thumb dragging over your bottom lip, and the glimmer of arousal that was growing steadily behind his full, dark lashes. You gave yourself a moment to appreciate it all; his hand on the back of your neck, the pure want reflected in his eyes, and the tantalizing feeling of simply being near him after two long, painstaking years.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Sebastian whispered the promise against your parted lips. “I need to know that you’re alright with whatever happens after, because if I deny myself of you any longer, I can’t say that I’ll be able to hold myself back.”

His husky tone had you clenching your knees together under the desk, the visceral need for your baser urges to be satiated taking root in your gut. This was real– he forgave you, and he still wanted you, even after everything you had inadvertently put him through.

The realization broke down the rest of your barriers, leading you to nod in his firm hold, and before you knew it Sebastian had captured your lips in a deep, sensual kiss. His hand on the back of your neck held you fast to his mouth as he released your chin, sweeping his legs over the desk so the long appendages trapped you between them, and when you heard miscellaneous items get knocked to the ground in the process, you barely reacted.

Sebastian was leaning over you completely, your head angled up in a way that left you entirely at his mercy as he ran his thumbs along your jaw and probed his tongue into your mouth. You sighed against him, bringing your hands up to rest on his thighs for better leverage, and when your nails dug into the fabric of his dark trousers, you felt him jolt with a throaty groan.

“Fuck, you have no idea what you do to me,” Sebastian uttered in between kisses, and you boldly began trailing your palms up towards the growing bulge between his legs. Winding his fingers in the hair at the base of your neck, he tugged you away from his face to fix you with a heated look. “When I wasn’t thinking about you, I was dreaming about you. I imagined this happening in so many different ways– I never stopped fantasizing about the pretty sounds you would make, or how you would look falling apart under me.”

Your hands finally came to rest on his trapped erection, and the generous squeeze you gave him had him pinching his eyes shut in an effort to keep from bucking into your touch. “Show me,” you begged. “Please, Sebastian, show me everything, I missed you.”

Sebastian released you for a mere moment to slide off the desk completely, and then his hands were back on you, swiftly tugging you out of your chair by the scruff of your shirt to slam your back against the wall behind you. Then he was kissing you again, swallowing up your startled gasp as he roughly wedged his knee between your legs to hold you upright. When Sebastian broke away to trail his teeth down your jaw and along the sensitive skin of your throat, he rolled his hips against you, relishing in the wanton moan the friction pulled from your lips.

His hands began slowly and methodically undoing the buttons of your top, taking his time as he lightly nipped at your pulse once, twice, before finally latching his lips around the skin to work a proprietary bruise into your flesh. There was nothing gentle about it– especially once he moved his mouth lower to the hollow of your throat, licking along your collarbone before biting into the tender curve of your shoulder.

“Fuck!” Your raspy cry shot straight to Sebastian’s cock, and you felt it strain against your hip through the restrictive material of his pants. “S-Sebastian, please–”

“You sound damn good, darling,” he mouthed wetly against the bite, pressing a chaste kiss there to soothe the throbbing ache. “I’d be an idiot to not take my time with you. Let a newly freed man enjoy himself, would you?”

While you understood his sentiment, the heat pooling in your gut was a very legitimate threat. Between his breath ghosting over your wet, marked skin, and the incessant movement of his knee pressed against your core, your composure was quickly slipping. It had been a long time since you’d actually been intimate with someone, but beyond that, you hadn’t so much as touched yourself in months.

You melted against the wall under Sebastian’s persistent attention, mewling softly when he undid the last button on your shirt to immediately begin kneading your breasts. The chill of the cabin swept over you for all of a second before you felt him take one of your pert nipples between his fingers to twist it gently, and then a hot flush was creeping down your bare chest. You writhed in his hold at the feeling, your hands flying up to claw at his neck when he shamelessly branded you under your jaw, and your shallow panting made Sebastian’s head spin with barely contained need– he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out his teasing for very long.

“Merlin, you’re so fucking sensitive. How long have you been waiting to have me touch you like this, hm?”

Sebastian let go of your breasts to remove your arms from around him, but before you could voice your displeasure, he had pinned your wrists overhead with one hand against the wall, graciously sweeping his eyes down your exposed front. His free hand came up to cradle your jaw, gently angling your face to the side so he could take in his handy work. The bright, fresh hickeys that now lined the column of your throat catered deeply to the primitive part of him that demanded he stake his claim on you any way he could.

You watched as Sebastian ate you alive with his eyes, his hooded gaze darkening immeasurably further when you shifted so that his knee was nestled right where you wanted it, dragging a soft exhale from your kiss-swollen lips, and fuck– his fantasies couldn’t hold a damn candle to the real thing.

With a rough growl, Sebastian pulled your arms off the wall and hauled you against his chest, and you had the good grace to wrap your trembling legs around his slender waist to aid him in carrying you from the living room. His fingers dug into the small of your back when he kicked the door to the bedroom open, tenderly kissing your temple right before he was tossing you down on the sheets.

“You’re wearing way too much clothing for my liking,” you groused up at him, eyeing at how he palmed himself through the tenting fabric between his legs.

He flashed you a smirk, dragging his hand up to the catch of his pants before he hummed, “Mm, guess it would be a shame to soil my new wardrobe.”

“Wait–” you sat up and scrambled to the edge of the mattress, placing your hands over his to halt him in place. “Let me.”

Sebastian’s vision flashed white when you peered up at him through your lashes, his cock making its interest in that option very apparent. He swallowed and nodded, pulling his hands away to let you undress him. Unlike him, you didn’t waste any time; your nimble fingers slipped under the waistband of both his trousers and briefs, and then you were tugging both sets of attire down his thighs. You let him help by shucking everything away so he could step out of the material freely, and then you were openly taking in the sight of his impressive length.

Sebastian was big– moreover, he was completely hard, the swollen head of his glistening cock already leaking small beads of precum. You hummed pensively, considering the task before you as you took him in your fist and gave him a good, firm stroke, with a fucking perfect twist around the head that drew a moan from him that he had no chance of biting back. The sound imbued you with renewed confidence, watching him with heated eyes as you gently angled the head against your soft, plush lips.

When you began pressing featherlight kisses to the tip, Sebastian couldn’t stop himself from shivering. You smiled at the feeling as you dragged your mouth slowly down the side of his shaft, using your hands to rub and stroke him in the areas you overlooked as you savored the taste of him on your tongue.

It was taking every drop of willpower in Sebastian’s body not to grab your hair and start fucking your face, but he forced himself to keep his hands at his side and enjoy the sensation of you mouthing wetly against him. The sight of you on your knees in front of him, eagerly hunching forward to grasp as much of him as you could in your smaller hands, made the self-restraint worth it.

When your tongue came to flick at his soaked slit, Sebastian twitched, and then your mouth was sealing over the sensitive head and you were sucking, wet and messy and so fucking perfect, and Sebastian’s head tipped back, breathing a series of broken little whimpers into the empty air.

“Fuck,” he managed to grit through clenched teeth, his stomach tensing beneath his shirt. “Fuck, darling, fucking hell–”

You sucked him down further, flattening your tongue to press deliciously to the underside of his length at the same time you hummed, and Sebastian choked out a stuttered moan as his hands finally flew to your hair. The sharp sting made you wince slightly, but you relished in the scrape of his nails along your scalp, and then you were letting him pull you further onto his cock until the head hit the back of your throat.

There was no helping your strangled, choking sound, but you fought through the urge to pull away, instead swallowing around him, and Sebastian swore nothing born of this Earth could possibly be this amazing.

His mind was spinning in fucking circles as you let him thrust into your warm, inviting mouth for as long as you were able to take it. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you felt them run down your cheeks to intermingle with your spit-slick mouth. The growing ache between your legs was bordering on unbearable at this point, and you shamelessly dropped one of your hands to your clothed cunt to press against yourself through the fabric.

Sebastian groaned at the sight of you touching yourself with his cock spearing into your mouth, and when you lifted your eyes to stare up at him from way down below, he nearly came then and there from your appearance.

In a flash, Sebastian was pulling you off of him with a strangled grunt, thick strands of spit and pre-cum sinfully dangling between your lips and his throbbing member. “Fuck– f-feels too damn good– I don’t want to finish yet.”

Your chest heaved as you greedily sucked down gulps of air, gazing up at Sebastian through hooded, fucked-out eyes that brought him to his knees before you to slip your unbuttoned shirt over the bruised curve of your shoulders. It fell away, leaving your upper half completely exposed to him now, and he hungrily traced his hands down the supple rise of your breasts before pushing you back against the covers.

When Sebastian tugged your pants away, he may as well have ripped them off with the intensity he exhibited. You were flushing darkly from your head all the way to your toes– all that separated you from him now was your thin cotton underwear, but not for long. Those long, freckled fingers had looped under the material, coyly dragging it down your goosebump riddled thighs before slipping it over your feet and tossing it over his shoulder.

Sebastian stood to his full height to begin unbuttoning his own shirt, and the dark material contrasted beautifully against his pale complexion. As the buttons fell away, you got your first glimpse of his bare chest since reuniting with him, only to discover there were raised, jagged scars that ran across his pecs and along his ribs. Your brows slammed down and your stomach dropped at the sight, and Sebastian paused as he took in your reaction to the markings.

“What happened?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but the hoarseness to it was apparent.

Following the strained bob of his adam’s apple, you watched as he continued to remove his top with a sureness that, at the very least, told you he wasn’t in any pain. “There’s plenty of other things to watch out for in Azkaban, not just the Dementors,” he replied vaguely with a shockingly unbothered tone.

Despite his casual demeanor and the nonchalant way he continued to strip himself down to nothing, you couldn’t fight the rising wave of guilt that threatened to pull you under. It was another reminder of what you’d done to him–

“Stop it.”

Your eyes jumped from his chest back to his dark gaze, and he was shaking his head at you in a scolding manner. “I can see exactly what you’re thinking, and this isn’t your fault. Don’t even try apologizing again.”

Your mouth opened and closed fitfully, the words you wanted to say dying on your tongue before you could voice them, and you sighed. But then Sebastian was shrugging his shirt off his shoulders, letting the material flutter to the floor unceremoniously before he began to crawl towards you, caging your body beneath his own. With him laying on top of you this way, his long legs draped lazily in between yours, you were able to ground yourself a bit more and shake the negativity from your mind.

Maybe he didn’t want you saying sorry, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t still show him how apologetic you were. Your hands flew to his cheeks, pulling his lips to yours with a tenacity that rivaled the strength of a Graphorn. Sebastian let you, shamelessly enjoying the mixed taste of himself on your sweet lips until the urge to move was overwhelming him, and he shifted in his spot between your sprawled legs to grind his achingly hard shaft between your soaked folds.

You moaned into his mouth, utterly adoring the friction his movements provided your neglected cunt, and you began tracing up his lithely muscled shoulders, ghosting your touch down his back where you felt the angular curve of his shoulder blades and more raised scars beneath your fingertips.

Sebastian kept himself supported on the arm draped beside your head, playing with the unruly strands of your hair until you were mewling and sighing against his lips, and then his other hand was trailing down to your slick heat to swipe through the wetness pooling there.

He chuckled darkly as you rocked your hips into his hand with a needy whine, your nails digging into the skin of his back. “Mm, Sebastian–”

“Want something, darling?”

You were breathless as he probed your entrance with one of his slender digits, then tensing and writhing under him when he pulled his finger away tauntingly. “Fucking– yes, please. T-touch me, please.”

The way he cocked his head to the side with that smug look on his face made your head spin with indignant need. “But I am touching you. I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

As though to punctuate the claim, he trailed his hand higher, pressing down on your bundle of nerves in a way that had you damn near bucking up to chase his touch. A keening sound resonated from your chest, and if looks could kill, Sebastian would have dropped dead on top of you in an instant from your icy glare.

Your voice trembled with barely contained need as you begged, “I want your fingers inside of me. I want your cock inside of me– please, I can’t wait anymore Sebastian, please fuck me–”

Sebastian cut you off with the sudden thrust of a finger breaching your walls, and your head kicked back with a sharp cry of his name as he began steadily working the appendage deeper, willing you to relax for him. He found a steady pace, pumping into you easily as you melted under his attention, your hips writhing back for more after a few heated seconds.

Obliging you with a second finger, Sebastian sealed his mouth over a random patch of skin above your breast, the salt of your skin clinging to his lips as he started to nibble and suck in a bid to gently mark you further. He kept your tight heat spread open as you arched and shuddered beneath him, and as nice as the image was, what was really getting to him were the gorgeous sounds falling from your swollen lips.

After two years without hearing it, Sebastian decidedly had a thing for your voice, but knowing how it sounded when it was hitched and raspy, forming shaky, insistent moans of his name… shit. Sebastian groaned softly, nipping at the blossoming hickey on your chest before he was curling his fingers up and firmly pressing the pad of his thumb against your clit so deliciously, it left you breathless.

The effect his efforts have on you were incredible. Your hips were arching off the bed, head thrown back into the pillows with a choked moan, and Sebastian followed you easily despite all of your brainless writhing.

“F-fuck, fuck, Sebastian,” you whined, your voice loud and spectacular, especially with the way it shook as you seemingly got closer to losing it. All you could do was cling to Sebastian, both hands clutching desperately at his shoulders, his neck, and then your fingers were tangling in his long hair so aggressively, the sting had his cock twitching against your leg.

You were positively wrecked already– gorgeously so– with your eyes glazed and unfocused, your lips parting freely around lyrical moans and mindless praises alike, and your cries of his name came more and more frequently as he curled and pressed his fingers within you. His patience was beginning to run out, though, as his painfully stiff cock continued to rut shamelessly against your thigh.

“What do you think, darling? Are you ready for me?”

Your eyes cracked open slightly, forcing a few deep, rattling breaths into your lungs as Sebastian lessened his ministrations against your core. You’d been so caught up in the building euphoria of your orgasm that you had completely forgotten it wasn’t even his cock making you crumble apart. “Y-Yeah. Been ready since you threw me against the wall…”

Sebastian chuckled at that, rewarding you with a deep, sensual kiss that made your toes curl. He peppered light kisses to the array of bruises he had worked into your skin thus far before sitting back on his heels, withdrawing his fingers from your pulsing heat. You whined softly at the loss, but then you felt Sebastian’s hands curl around your thighs to haul you down the covers so you were flush to his hips, and the luxurious feeling of him rubbing against your slick arousal was enough to have you wriggling back for more.

You were boneless in Sebastian’s hands as he looped his arms under your knees, angling your legs over his shoulders so that he could see all of you as he lined himself up with your entrance. A thrill of excitement sparked through you at the more insistent presses of the brunet’s incredibly solid cock against you. The first firm roll of Sebastian’s hips pulled shaky gasps from both of you as the thick head breached your walls, slick and tight and warm, and Sebastian couldn’t help the breathless moan of your name that fell from his lips then.

“Fuck, you feel amazing, darling– Merlin– you’re so warm, shit.” He leaned forward to plunge himself further into you, taking care to grind slowly after each small, shallow thrust. Your shaky breaths filled the space between the two of you as Sebastian rocked his hips steadily against your ass, everything he had done to prepare you paying off in the form of you taking his cock perfectly, letting him slide deeper with every short plunge of his hips.

Sebastian kept up his patient, easy rhythm, sliding his hands along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs to simultaneously tease you and hold you more firmly in place. You let out a long, whimpering moan, your eyes squeezing shut as Sebastian finally bottomed out, and you savored in the marvelous feeling of being filled by him.

“How’s it feel, love?” Sebastian asked quietly, lowering his head a bit more to nudge his nose against your sweat-slick forehead. The kiss he pressed there soothed you further, and the way you sighed and melted further was proof enough that Sebastian was doing well. “Is it too much?”

“Fuck no,” you groaned, your voice breaking slightly, but you were way too scatter-brained to care. You were completely enveloped by Sebastian in the best possible ways, the initial sting of the thick stretch vanishing entirely with his gentle grinding. “Gods, Sebastian,” you gasped, your lashes fluttering open to make dazed eye contact with your freckled lover. “You’re so big, f-feels so good…”

Sebastian groaned, mouthing wetly against the smooth curve of your knee draped over his shoulder, and when he sank his teeth into the sensitive flesh there, you responded with a keening moan from low in your throat.

He wasn’t pulling out far before he was smoothly rolling his hips back in, setting an achingly slow pace to start with. The way you felt around him was euphoric, your body quaking in time to Sebastian’s steady, languid thrusts. His bruising grip on your thighs had you panting and squirming back against his cock, musing your hair wildly beneath you, and your hands fisted in the covers in a bid to find purchase.

“You’re perfect,” Sebastian moaned his praises into the crook of your leg, increasing the intensity of his thrusts when he felt you arching towards him, the head of his cock brushing deeper and harder. “You’re so fucking perfect– I love you, darling– I never stopped loving you.”

Your denied release from earlier came roaring to life in the pit of your gut as you felt Sebastian’s cock graze over your sweet spot, wanton moans spilling from your lips as you clawed at the sheets and gasped breathlessly. “Sebastian– fuck, I l-love you, I love you so much–” His hips snapped against your ass sharply at your mindless confession, and your lips parted around a pleading cry for more, overwhelmed tears pricking at your clenched eyes as Sebastian obliged you.

With a throaty growl, Sebastian released your legs from his ironclad grip, letting them fall limply against the bed so he could lower himself to snake his arms around your waist and arch you towards him, ramming his cock into you with blinding precision that made you wail his name shamelessly.

“S-Sebastian, please, please– just like that–” you ground your hips back onto your lover, thighs trembling from how good Sebastian fucked you, filling you up deep and rough and just right. The way he dug his fingers into the skin of your waist to slam you back down into his relentless thrusts only served to add fuel to the growing fire in your core, leaving you a sloppy, gasping, pleading mess underneath him.

The two of you were holding on by barely there threads, your looming orgasms building, and you knew Sebastian was close when he buried his head in the crook of your shoulder to pant loudly against your skin. Your arms flew around his neck, clinging to him desperately as you rutted against him, wordlessly urging him to take what he wanted– to finally let go.

Sebastian came with a brutal cry of your name, his rough pumping transforming into sensual, deep grinding, and he hurriedly brought one of his hands to your clit to rub tight, demanding circles against you. The combined feeling of his cock emptying inside of you and the perfect stimulation from his fingers brought you clean over the edge with him, your nails sinking into his skin and leaving angry welts in their wake as you sobbed in ecstasy.

Thoroughly spent, the two of you stayed intertwined for what seemed like hours, but realistically couldn’t have been longer than a few minutes. Sebastian continued to slowly rock his hips into you long after the two of you had come down, until your overstimulated twitches and moans prompted him to gently slide out of your dripping folds, swallowing thickly when he lifted his head to rake over your prone form.

Your half-hooded gaze fixed on Sebastian as he tenderly trailed his hands up over your breasts, ghosting over the trail of love-bites and scratches that now decorated your sternum. His thumb swept up the vulnerable apex of your throat to angle your flushed lips towards his mouth. The kiss held a thousand promises that neither one of you cared to voice in the moment, and you let him nudge you up towards the headboard before he gathered you securely in his arms.

“Thank you.” Sebastian whispered into the top of your head after a few minutes of pleasant silence. You were tucked comfortably against his chest, his arm wrapped around you as he traced tiny shapes and patterns along the curve of your spine. You had been lightly trailing your fingers over the plethora of scars that lined his chest, committing the feeling of each one to memory, but his words made you pause.

“I can’t say I’ve ever been thanked for sex before,” you murmured against his side, and your head jostled when he laughed softly.

“Don’t be stupid– although, yes, definitely thank you for the sex. But I meant ‘thank you’ for everything else.”

Your lips pressed into a hard line, but you forced yourself to keep your tone light hearted when you replied. “Don’t go thanking me too soon. We haven’t even made it out of Ministry territory yet– ow!”

You flinched away from his pinching fingers against your back, the sharp sting throbbing to life– and though it wasn’t a severe pain in the slightest, you craned your head back to glare at him.

His dark eyes sparkled with amusement and an underlying fondness that instantly cooled your temper. “Is it so hard for you to just say ‘you’re welcome, Sebastian’ and kiss me?”

The laugh that bubbled from your throat was like music to Sebastian’s ears, and he realized dimly that it was the first time he had heard it in over two years. He never wanted to stop hearing it, and he vowed to himself then that he would spend every day of the rest of his life trying to make you feel that kind of joy.

“Is that it? If that’s all you wanted, you only needed to ask.”

Sebastian tugged you closer, lazily sweeping his broad hand over the small of your back to press you into him as his lips captured yours in a dizzying kiss. It melted away your lingering tension, and you ran your fingers through his disheveled hair, pushing the overgrown locs out of his face delicately. The fodness in the action had him sighing against your lips, and nothing in this lifetime would ever compare to this moment here with you.

“I love you,” he said, and you cracked your eyes open to see him staring at you with a deeply profound expression. “I meant what I said earlier– I don’t think I ever stopped loving you.”

Warmth blossomed in your chest, and you managed to flash him a watery smile before sappy tears were running down your cheeks despite your best efforts. “Me too. I’ve always loved you, Sebastian, and I always will. For as long as you’ll have me.”

“How’s forever sound? I have no plans to leave your side anytime soon. That should give us plenty of time to figure out what comes next.”

He stole your lips again, never breaking away as he rolled himself over to cage you completely beneath his taller frame. It was an impassioned kiss, full of desire and desperation, and all you could do was kiss him back with equal fervor, mirroring his wants.

Any concerns drifted from your minds as the two of you got lost in the newfound versions of yourselves, taking exceptional care throughout the night to commit every new thing about the other to memory. The moment held promise for the future— for what you now knew you could have with Sebastian, and you swore to yourself then that you would fight with everything in you to protect this second chance. The Ministry would have to pry Sebastian from your cold, dead hands.

No matter what was to come, your heart felt lighter knowing that the two of you would face it together.

#sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x female!reader #sebastian sallow smut #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow oneshot #sebastian sallow fanfic #sebastian sallow #my writing #this shit is so long y'all I'm sorry #if you're gonna read this it's a fucking commitment

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