#but MERLIN IS A LOVER seriously?

[adhd-merlin]

ok but WHY did the bbc cut morgana's "[merlin]'s a lover" line on the iplayer. it's such an innocuous line. what kind of victorian censorship is this

[montuak-project]

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:* 　　 *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ — # ❝ i put a spell on you❞| mattheo riddle PAIRINGS — any house! reader x mattheo riddle GENRE — fluff/angst WARNINGS — mild cursing and violence WC — 5.7k masterlist.  authors note- this is purely fiction is not to be taken seriously

this is late, but Happy Valentine's Day to everyone ᡣ𐭩 -------------------------------------------------------

Valentine’s Day at Hogwarts. It was the craziest day at Hogwarts. That and finals week. 

The hospital wing was usually filled with people who were under a love potion or people who thought they were under a love potion. 

You thought it was a good idea to volunteer to help Madam Pomfrey. 

She has been known to use only when she is frustrated and stressed out to slip up and use some choice words no matter the age of the student. 

Things were going well. She had given you the girls to deal with. They had plenty of antidote for the love potion. And something that tastes just as similar to it for those who believed they were under as well. 

“Merlin’s Beard! Mr. Riddle, I thought I told you-“

“Pomfrey I swear I didn’t start this one. He did.” Mattheo said gripping the boy next to him. The boy he was gripping had his head looking up pinching his nose with his tie. “Didn’t know he was a bleeder. Anyways this one thought I was hitting on his girlfriend.” 

The boy tilted his head forward, “You were. Ah!” 

“Mate tilt.” Mattheo pushed his head back. “I was just asking her a question, can’t ask girls questions anymore.” 

“Mr. Riddle please go to Miss.____. She will clean you up.”

Mattheo smirked walking over to you. As Pomfrey took the over boy to one of her beds. 

“Hi pretty.” 

“Riddle.” 

“Come on ___ you have cleaned my face enough to call me by my first name.” Mattheo sat on one of the beds. 

You positioned yourself in front of him gently tilting his face up. You pulled his tie out of its knot putting it to the side of him. 

Mattheo smirked, before wincing a little. “I like it when pretty girls undress me.” 

“Mattheo…” 

“Alright, I’m sorry Miss.___ please continue.” 

“I just need you to keep your face straight and your mouth shut. Why do you have so much blood on you? Look at it, it’sall over your button-down. And why were we flirting with his girlfriend on Valentine’s Day?”

He huffed, “For the up-teenth time I was not flirting. I was asking her a question. We had just gotten out of class. I was asking if her brother was able to still get us fire whiskey for a party. Next thing I know he’s grabbing me by the collar andI’m getting punched.”

“Hmm. If he attacked you, why does he have a broken nose and you have a few scraps.”

“I’m scrappy.” He knew you were unsatisfied with the answer. “He punched me first but I punched him back. Not that hard. All of a sudden crack, and blood and he fainted on my chest. Bleeding out. I don’t know why he freaked out.”

You snorted. 

“What?”

“Mattheo it’s Valentine’s Day. Of course, he is going to have his guard up.”

“So every boyfriend is a jerk to everyone but his girlfriend.”

You shook your head no. He hissed as you went over a scrap. “They are just jerks to you. Mattheo Riddle one of Slytherins top playboys.” 

Mattheo audibly gasped, the stretch of skin caused more blood to come off the cut. 

“Mattheo stop twitching.” 

“I am not a playboy.”

You politely tucked your lips in not saying anything finishing up cleaning the blood off of his undeniably gorgeous face. 

“You think I’m a playboy?”

“When you call every girl pretty, sweetheart, or love it’s kind of hard not to. Plus there’s the long list of lovers you had.”

“Please don’t say lovers. The word gives me the heebie-jeebies. And I haven’t slept with that many girls.” He said innocently giving her puppy dog eyes and looking up at her. 

“That’s a lie. And you are usually a pretty good liar Riddle.”

“You wound me.” He gripped his chest. 

“Hopefully it’s just internal bleeding then. I can’t keep cleaning your wounds for you Mattheo. I mean your pretty face is all scarred. These fights are just not worth this trouble.”

Pretty. He repeated in his head. “Some of them are from Quidditch.”

“I assume so when you are fighting with Gryffindors over practice time or after the game when someone can’t keep their mouth shut.”

“Well, it’s good to know that my personal nurse knows my proclivities. She can always be prepared for the job.” 

You rolled your eyes with a smile. You hated that a little bit. How easily you gave into his little flirtatious remarks and kind words. But that’s what they were words. Mattheo Riddle is not someone to put trust in. Not with your heart. Boys like him break it and let it roll off their backs. 

“Oh, would you look at that someone got cookies?” Mattheo smirked picking up the cellophane bag and seeing the vanilla round biscuits with a heart cutout in the middle filled with jam. 

Mattheo's fingers played with the parchment paper tied to it with a white satin ribbon. “Happy Valentine’s Day. Enjoy the sweets from your secret admirer.” Mattheo grimaced at the idea of someone else catching her eye. 

“Riddle stop with the face.” 

“Who is the secret admirer?” 

You decided not to answer him instead laying a band-aid across the bridge of his nose. 

“___?”

“I don’t know. That is the whole point of a secret admirer. To not know who they are,” You shrugged in return. 

Mattheo pouted, he ripped open the bag and ate two of the cookies inside.

“Mattheo what the hell those were for me.” 

“So what like you were going to eat all of them? There was a full batch in this thing. Here you go if you want one so bad.” Mattheo took one of the cookies and tried to put it in your open mouth. 

You smacked the cookie right out of his hand, “I don’t like strawberry jam.” 

“Quite uncivilized of you, m’lady.” Mattheo joked. “So I can have them all?” 

“Yes.” 

He nodded stuffing his face full of the small cookies. 

“You better be listening to me Mattheo.” You instructed him with a finger in his face

He shook your pointer finger, “Of course.” He mumbled getting crumbs all over himself. 

“Oh, dear lord. I’ll find Theo and tell him myself because you can’t take care of yourself properly. Now look me in the eye.” 

Mattheo looked up at her watching her talk. 

“First off I used glue on the cut across the bridge of your nose and small sutures. That means do not have another fight for a whole week. It will just bust open again. The others apply this cream on them in the morning and at night. They should be healed in a day or two.” You handed him a jar. 

“Right apply daily.” 

You gave him a look of disapproval. 

“I know mornings and nights. And when I apply to myself I will only think of you.” 

You rolled your eyes at his flirtatious nature, “do not say things like that. I’m writing a note for Nott. That boy has more common sense for these things than you do.” 

“What does that mean?!” 

“Shh.” You pinched his lips together. “Dear god we are in the hospital wing. It means Theo has more of a handle on medicines and things of that nature. And better handle on you. For the most part. Unless he wants you to act like a dog off-leash.”You laughed at him. 

“You are lucky you are very cute ____ otherwise I would have to make you pay for that one.” 

You felt a bit flushed.

“Alright, I see you around ____. You should definitely come to the party tonight.” Mattheo said pointing at you pickingup his things. 

You gave him a short wave, “Bye Mattheo.” You said with a quiet voice. You ripped off the note for Theodore stuffing it in your pocket when you saw him in your next class.

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A couple of hours later Madam Pomfrey had let you leave after a couple more people came in. But thankfully people came to their senses about the day. 

You sat next to Theo in transfiguration. “Mattheo mentioned a party tonight?” 

“Him and his big mouth. Inviting every pretty girl that gives him attention.” 

“I…- I am not like those girls, Nott.” You made a disgusted face at the accusation. “I believe it's just another thank invite for fixing his face again, this morning.” 

“Son of a witch.” He sighed pinching the bridge of his nose. “Give me the instructions, that damn asshole. He just adds to my workload. He isn’t even my cousin. Malfoy should have to take care of him.”

You laughed at Theo’s frustration as you passed him the note. 

He read it over whispering to himself as he read. “Can’t get into fights for a week?” 

“Yeah, the cut above the bridge of his nose was deep. The guy that punched him had a house ring on, nasty cut.”

“We have a quidditch match on Monday.” 

“Tell Mattheo to control his impulses then.” 

“Easier said than done.” 

You ignored his attitude opening your book to the last chapter Mcgonagall covered in class. 

A paper ball hit the back of Theo’s head, when he turned around Enzo was pointing at the ball on the floor. Nott rolled his eyes picking it up and reading Enzo’s sloppy script. 

‘hey! You agreed to the plan! You are just as tired as all of us hearing Riddle go on and on about her! Get in there and flirt!’ 

Theo groaned crumpling the paper shoving it into his robes pocket turning to you. “So are you going to come?” 

“Huh?” 

Theo smirked, poking at your side, “You know the party.” 

“Oh. I thought you didn’t want me to come.” You squinted at him as you joked. 

“What? Of course, I want a..pretty girl like you to come.” Dear lord in heaven this better be worth it. 

“Hmm. Y’know, I always thought you didn’t like me for the longest time.” 

“Crazy. Did you like the cookies?” 

You dropped your quill. Theodore Nott was your secret admirer. And he bakes?! 

“Um? What?” 

“The vanilla and strawberry jam heart-shaped cookies. I left them with Madam Pomfrey and she said she would give them to you.” 

“Oh yeah, those.” ‘No, I didn’t like them. Also, your best friend ate them all.’ “I have to be honest Theo…” 

Theo nodded turning towards her, tilted his head. Maybe this go over better if they were not aquatinted. “Yes tell me.” 

“The cookies were delicious. I am however not a big fan of strawberry jam.” 

“Oh ok. You can blame Pansy for that one. I will remember that for next time.” He smiled at her softly nudging you. “But you’ll come to the party tonight?” 

Your burrows furrowed together, “Sure. definitely.” 

“Good. Great. We should probably pay attention to class now.” He said to you. 

You hummed trying not he completely petrified of the idea of Theodore Nott having a crush on you. 

Theo turned slightly on his stool looking at Enzo and Pansy giving them a thumbs up with a smirk. It did not go unbeknownst to him that Mattheo was staring at him. 

Mattheo was boiling, getting hot underneath the collar, “Blaise do you know anything about Nott and ____.” 

“Just that they are transfiguration partners, I think he said something about inviting her to the party. When Enzo was helping him in the kitchen last night.” 

“Why were they in the kitchen last night?” 

“I could have sworn you were there with them.” 

“Blaise, why were they in the kitchen last night?” 

Blaise put his quill down looking at him, “Enzo was helping him bake cookies. They both burnt the first batch. Thank godEnzo can read Parkinson’s handwriting. It is just so girly.”

Mattheo cleared his throat, sitting there stewing in his emotions. He could not get over the fact that someone else, let alone his best friend, had a crush on ____. Not when he was in love with her. 

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You waited patiently outside at the end of class, Pansy helped him with those cookies. And she is the biggest blabber mouth you have ever known. Exactly why you never told her that you had a slight crush on the Dark Lord's son. 

You grabbed Pansy’s shoulder away from her gaggle friends. “Sorry need to borrow her for a minute.” 

“Excuse me for a second.” She said as she bowed away from her Slytherin friends. You pulled her away down into a side hallway. “What can I help you with ___?” She asked innocently. 

“Oh drop the act. You knew Theodore Faustus Nott fancied me and you didn’t tell me?!” 

“I guess I didn’t think about it.” 

“You are a horrible liar. You knew this entire time and you didn’t say a thing.” 

“It was not my secret to tell.” She mentioned. 

“Bullshit. You are such a blabbermouth. You blabber everyone's secrets. Everyone here knows it.” 

“Well, Theodore begged me to keep a secret, threaten me if I told.” Pansy reasoned with her. “Did you enjoy the cookies?” 

“I would have if they were any other flavored, except the jam. I hate jams. And I believe you knew that. Since I avoid them like the plague.” You pointed out to her.

“So you did not eat them?” 

“No. Mattheo saw them and ate them all.” 

“Mattheo?” She questioned with a tiniest smirk resting on her face.  

“I am not telling this story again. Ask Theo or Mattheo what happened to his face. Now I have to figure out a way to let Theo down easy on Valentine's Day. Of all days Pansy.” You sighed frustrated leaving her in the cut-out of the hallway. 

Once you were out of sight she silently chuckled to herself, quickly running over to Enzo and Theodore. “The plan is working! Even if she is mad at me. Slight problem though he ate all of them.” 

“All of them? There were like 10 cookies in there. Is he going to be ok?” 

Theo nodded his head clearing his throat, “Yes he will be fine, it was just a light coating I put the jam on. As long as you grabbed the right antidote when you went to the hospital wing today for your headache.” Theo said looking at him. 

“Yes! Of course, I did. You all doubt me so much.” Enzo defended himself. 

Theo and Pansy at the same time crossed their arms, tilting their heads. 

“I should not have to defend myself.” 

“Right, so as soon as he confesses his love for her, you give him the drink with the antidote in it. And everything will be fine.” Pansy went over the plan again. 

“As long as he doesn’t kill Theo first,” Enzo mumbled as he looked at Mattheo. 

Who was slumped against the wall across from them with Blaise and Draco at either of his sides, spinning his Slytherin house ring between his fingers, and boring wholes into Theo. 

“Maybe I should talk to him.” Theo reasoned. 

“I think you if want to get strangled here and now please do.” Enzo countered. 

Theo ignored him, walking over to Mattheo anyway. “Riddle, come have a smoke with me I have to finish off this pack before the end of the day. Snape has been checking bags again. Apparently, someone broke into his cupboards and stole ingredients again.” 

Mattheo nodded following him outside to the courtyard. Theo handed him the cigarette as they stood on the other side of the tree facing away from the windows. 

“So the fuck happened to your face?” Theo asked with a smirk. 

Mattheo laughed heartily, as smoke came out from his mouth, “A prick came at me with his fist. But I was a little faster. These are just a few scraps.” 

“Right. Remember not to fight. ____ does not want to see you hurt again.” 

Mattheo's smile was still on his face but his eyes were devoid of emotion, “Is that what you two were talking about? Laughing about? About my constant fighting?”

“Mattheo let’s not-” 

Mattheo took a long drag, “No we are going to discuss it. Because you cannot just come flouncing in and think you can just fuck with her.” 

Theo cleared his throat to speak. 

“Not fucking finished.” He shoved the cigarette between his lips, turned on his heel grabbed Theo by his robes shoving him up against the tree. “I love her. Can you say the same? Now I do not wish to upset ____ by getting into another fight. Today. But stay the fuck away from her.” The words jumbled out as smoke flowed into Theo’s face

Theo challenged him pushing his best friend off of him, “Why should I when you are too much of a pussy to admit your feelings?”

Mattheo nodded his head, “ok.” Mattheo punched him across the face. 

Theo put his hand to his face. As much as he wanted to hit back he knew deep down, that Mattheo was not in his right mind. 

“Stay the fuck away from her,” Mattheo warned again. 

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You were in your next class, sitting down trying to pay attention to Snape’s lecture. This proved to be mighty difficult as Mattheo decided with McLaggen to switch seats with him. And Mattheo was just sitting there, face sitting on his hand giving her love-dove eyes. 

“Mattheo please stop staring at me, pay attention to the lecture. I doubt your cousin is going to want to give you this lesson again.” 

Mattheo reached over brushing hair out of your face. It was not a completely strange gesture, he had touched you without permission before not that it bothered you. It was just how Mattheo was with people he was comfortable with. But this felt more intimate. 

You looked over at him staring him down to be a little more serious. 

“Couldn’t you give me this lesson then?” He said with a loving smile. Mattheo grabbed her hand as it was writing more notes, “please.” 

Your eyes darted to his knuckles and how they were bruised. “Mattheo is that from earlier today?” 

“What?” He looked at his hand. Not to upset her and to bring up Theo he quickly agreed, “Yes.” 

“Why did you not say anything to me? I would’ve had some ice for it and had some ginger root tea to stop the inflammation. I should have noticed it.” 

“Miss._____? Is conversation with Mr. Riddle more interesting than the lesson?” Snape came over interrupting the conversation. 

“Sorry Professor, it was my fault. My hand was bothering me and usually Miss. ____ has some ginger root with her. She has learned a lot from your lessons in potions and Professor Sprout in Herbology to know what plants help people.” Mattheo smiled brightly at his Professor. 

“5 points from each of your houses. Do pay attention in class, Mr. Riddle.” 

“Of course, Sir.” Mattheo smiled smugly at him. Snape continued his droning on with the lecture.

Whereas Mattheo resumed his activity of just staring at you. You decided no amount of pleading and telling him to focus was going to work. Maybe by helping him later on with the homework assignment, he would learn something. 

At the end of the class, you were gathering your things and Mattheo waited for you. 

“Mattheo you can go.” 

“No I can’t, ___ I wanted to walk you to your next class. You have Advanced Herbology.” He held out his hand for you to take. 

You nodded. He was acting weird. You took his hand and felt his pulse pounding through his veins. 

“Are you feeling alright?” 

“Never better. I promise. I have this amazing nurse who always takes care of me. Ever since my third year I fell into poison oak leaves during Hagrid’s class. She is just amazing.” 

“Well, you tell her I am very concerned about you. You are acting strange today.” 

Mattheo shrugged, “Or I am acting like a true version of myself.”

You snorted, “Nope. Trust me, Matt, I know you pretty well to know what your true self is. And it is not this fairy tale book Prince Charming.”

“Well, then I am sorry you don’t feel that way about me. Hopefully, by the end of the day, you will change your mind about me.” 

You were in front of the classroom. “I will be here when we have astronomy together.”

“Matt you don’t have to do that-”

“You’re right I don’t have to. I want to. Anything for my girl.” He said kissing your cheek quickly before walking away cooly.  

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For the rest of the day, Mattheo followed you around. And not like a lost puppy more like a rottweiler. If anyone looked at you funny or looked in your direction you were sure he was going to bite their heads off or worse. 

While if he looked at you it was like you had a halo surrounding you. It was strange. But it was also very Mattheo if was looking to start a relationship. Funny how he was making fun of it this morning and then here you were. 

You were finishing up notes from DADA and eating lunch when Mattheo kept tapping the table in front of your book. 

“What is it, Matt?” 

“Nothing just wanted to see your pretty face.” He smiled at her as he rested his head in his palm. 

He looked goofy to you but it was a sweet gesture as you smiled fondly at him. “Thank you, Mattheo, but I do have to finish these notes.  We have a test on Monday.” 

“DADA tests are easy you just have to remember the spells and the right movements. Thats all you need to know.” 

“And when to use them. When it's appropriate to use the spell. If it's an offense or defense. There are a lot of factors you have to know.” You jested back to him. 

“You better finish all these notes and plan to do homework tomorrow because this evening you are going to the Slytherin party.” 

Shit. The party. That was tonight. The party Mattheo got punched in the face for. The party Theodore Nott invited you to on his behalf because he wanted to be your Valentine.

“Must I?” 

Mattheo nodded his head, “Of fucking course you do! And you get to be accompanied by yours truly. You know they say I am the Prince of Slytherin house.” 

“I don’t think they say that. I don’t think that is something to be proud of. And wouldn’t you be the heir I have heard a lot of girls call Draco the Prince. Because he is handsome.” 

“You think my cousin is handsome?” He asked with a little bit of disgust on his face and a tinge of sadness in his voice.

“I guess. But he is not as handsome as you Matty.” 

Mattheo half chuckled with a playful grin on his face. “But you not so much now, cute across your face is really off-putting.” 

Mattheo pinched the apple of your cheek, “Again you are lucky you are cute. And that I like you.” 

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You were refiling your cup with the spiked juice that was set up when someone grabbed your arm pulling you away from the table and behind a curtain. 

When you slapped the handoff of you and looked to see who it was, you stopped thrashing about in his grasp. “Nott what the hell?!” 

“Sorry, but I had to talk to you quickly.” 

“Well, I have been meaning to actually talk to you. While I am flattered that you like me and that you put thought into the little gift you made me. I just do not find you attractive. If I am completely honest I kind of have feelings for Mattheo. Well for a long time and I think he might actually like me back. Now please excuse me I want to finish filling my cup, not that Mattheo would let me get away from him to do it myself can you believe it..” You stop mid-rambling looking at Theo’s eye, “Theo what happened to your face? You should really…drink ginger tea….wait did Mattheo do this to you? I knew his knuckles were not that bruised earlier.” 

“Yeah about that…so you know those cookies I made you?’ 

“Yes. Listen, Theo…” 

Theo clamped his hand over your mouth, “No you listen see I let a bunch of idiots minus Blaise and Malfoy convince me to make them love potion to gloss over the jam section of the cookie.”

Your burrows scrunched together in anger as you mumbled against his hand, “What?!” 

“Now the love potion was not for you from me. Because I do not like you that way at all.” Theo shook his head in almost disgust.

Bit of a blow to the ego there. 

“Please like you are my type. Or I’m yours. The cookie was for Mattheo, and I was told that I should flirt with you so he would just confess how he feels about you. And I have the antidote for him so afterward once he does so everything will go back to normal. I completely forgot how much of a monster he could be when challenged.” 

You pried Theo’s hand off your mouth, “And you thought this was a good idea?”

“To be fair I was pretty high when I agreed to it. And it was the best idea Pansy and Enzo could come up with. Normally a jealous Mattheo would say mean comments, sudden bursts of anger, and bury his feelings about the matter. Mattheo on love potion though…well he is violent more than usual.” 

“I could have told you that. You should have come to your senses when you were sober.” You pushed the top of his shoulder blades. 

“I know. I know. But Pansy said this was the only way to make him confess to you.” 

“You are all idiots. And a love potion?! Of all things? That is not real love and to do that to him?”

“Again I wasn’t thinking straight and they said I couldn’t back out of the plan. They are blackmailing me with…things.” 

“Things.” 

“I don’t want to repeat it in case you plan to blackmail me as well,” Theo said. 

“That is your concern right now not the fact that you drugged your best friend because he is too chicken to-” You were cut off by a punch coming through the curtain hitting Theo square in the nose. 

“Didn’t I tell you to stay away from her?” 

“Trust me mate I know. I have come to my senses and my guilt on the matter.” Theo said holding his nose. Thank god his nose did not break but blood was pouring down his face. 

“Mattheo what the hell?!” You screamed in horror putting your hands over your mouth and dropping your cup onto the floor. 

“____ don’t listen to him, he is just going to use you and leave you. That is what he does. He doesn’t care about anyone other than himself.” Mattheo seethed in Theo’s direction.  

“Oh for Salazar’s Sake!” Theo grumbled. “Draco! Enzo! Blaise! Pansy! Get over here!” He yelled over to his friends 

The three boys joined them inside the small out-cove of the Slytherin common room, everyone still watching as Mattheo had a blowout and crazed look in his eyes. Blaise turned around everyone, “Please don’t mind us, go back to the par.

“Malfoy and Blaise hold him. Enzo give me the damn antidote I won’t be taking any more hits from him not anymore.” Theo ordered. 

“I am not holding my cousin like a toddler for no reason,” Draco said. 

“I don’t know mate, look at him he looks like an animal and not in the usual way,” Blaise said to Malfoy in a whisper. “I think we should hold him.” 

Malfoy and Blaise came around Mattheo grabbing his shoulders and arms keeping him in place. 

“I am fine just no one here is allowed near ____.” 

“Mattheo please just listen to them. Just drink the antidote and everything will be fine. I promise.” You started to say to him holding his face so he would have to look at you.  

“Ok, whatever you say, love.” He said as he softened like pudding in your hands. 

“You have got to be kidding me right now.” Theo gagged hard on air trying to keep his stomach contents down. “Give here now.” 

Enzo handed him the vile he took from Madam Pomfrey’s trolley this morning. As Theo was going to add it to a fresh cup of pumpkin juice, you noticed the color of the vile. 

“Hold on. This is an orange antidote. Enzo are you kidding me this was your half-baked plan and you couldn’t even grab the right vile. Orange is the placebo pink is the real antidote.” 

“Pansy helped me too. And she was my guard when Pomfrey came back around.” 

“You liar. I was busy leaving the cookies by ____’s station. Theo and I told you a million times pink. Did you get distracted by that Ravenclaw girl again?” Pansy accused as they started to be a long fight back and forth. 

“Stop!” They quickly quieted down at the suddenness of your raised voice. “Fighting isn’t helping Mattheo. You are all lucky Pomfrey gave me an antidote just in case I did ingest any love potion today. It is in my bag.” 

You walked away quickly, up into the dormitories. You looked around Pansy's room for the bag finding it just where you stored it. Right underneath her pillow. Coming down the marble flight of stairs, vile in hand with flared nostrils and anger in her eyes, poured the baby pink substance into the cup of pumpkin juice. 

“Matty just drink this and you will be fine. Angry. But fine.” You told him. 

“Ok.” Malfoy and Blaise held on to him as you poured the drink down his throat. 

He swallowed all of the cure to the love potion, and soon after he started to feel better. He looked around a little drowsy but came too, and went to lung at Enzo and Theo. 

“I’m going to kill the both of you.” 

“It was his stupid idea.” Theo pointed to Enzo. 

“Hey! You agreed to it.” Enzo agreed back. “All because he didn’t want you to whine anymore. What a great best friend you have.” 

“I did not whine.” 

“… You did mate,” Theo muttered. 

“A lot,” Blaise added on. 

“Bloody hell it bled into summer vacations. I think my mother wanted to drown you in the fountain.” Draco chuckled a little at his remark. 

“Well, I guess cats out of the bag now.” Mattheo groaned as his head lobbed back before popping back forward again. “Listen, ____…_____?” 

Mattheo looked around the the small room for you, when Pansy pointed through the curtain. You had walked away from the party and the group. Is this how Mattheo had to be, had to be under a love potion to admit his feelings to you? It was hurtful. Was it so embarrassing to be with you? No, what was embarrassing was that now everyone and their mother knew he was under the spell, and worse his friends did to him. 

You were half up the stairs out of the dungeon with hot tears flowing slowly down the curve of your cheeks. When you heard Mattheo calling for you. You didn’t stop no you kept going.

He managed to catch up grabbing your arm, “____? I called your name like a hundred times. Please stop running away— You’re crying? Why are you crying.” Mattheo pulled your forearm into his chest slightly embracing you. 

“Why am I crying? Because your embarrassed to be with me!” You whispered-shouted, shoving yourself away from him curling into yourself. “And now everyone knows that. If Mattheo Riddle doesn’t like her then who will.” You mocked. 

“What? No, ___ I do like you. I have always liked you. Now…more than just friends. I wasn’t embarrassed about liking you.” 

“You weren’t?” 

“No.” Mattheo fidgeted with the ring on his finger looking away from you, “I was embarrassed of myself. Worried that if we were together how would people react and well…I was scared of how they would treat you because of me.” 

“Matty…” You reached out to him and hugged him tightly. When you were letting go of him and pulling away, you were staring into his big brown chocolate eyes. Even when they had dark circles around them and littered with scars from all the scraps and bruises they were still so beautiful. Mattheo had the faintest grin on his lips, as he lightly pushed the hair out of your face. It was then you knew, lips touching as he softly kissed you. Most would think with a boy like him he would be fierce and controlling which you had no doubt, in the near future he probably would be. But now he wanted to be sweet and gentle. 

Stopping and looking at you one last time, his hands held your face wiping any remaining tears streaks on your face. 

“This isn’t going to be a one-time thing.” He said. 

“I would hope not.” 

“And I won’t ever need a love potion ever again with you.” 

You punched his shoulder with a smile, “And if anyone says anything about me being with you, you can always just fight them.” 

“Really?” 

“Of course, I’m always here to clean you up.” You told him pinching his cheek. Mattheo winced from the bruise that was there earlier. “After you heal from your other wounds first. Doctors orders.” 

“At least my doctor isn’t Theo anymore. He is so rough with me. He doesn’t have smooth hands like yours.” Mattheo said kissing your cheeks. “Do you want to go back to the party?” 

“I was thinking of your dorm room.” 

“Have I mentioned I love you?” He said as he quickly picked you up and threw you over his shoulders as you giggled happily. Mattheo Riddle was all yours. 

[theealbatross]

marry me (s.s.)

Plot | The 3 times Sebastian thought about marrying you and the 1 time he asked.

Tags | miscommunication, mentions of murder and poisonings, fluff, implied smut, dangerous idiots in love, fluff, 6k-ish words

A/N: sorry this took so long i went on a vacation! One of the funniest line about Ominis locking the two of them up was written by @/shinzhon in our discord server!

Series Masterlist - the rest of the chapters here

“Seriously Sebastian, how many times has it been this month?”

“It’s not my fault this time, I swear!”

“So, you slipped and somehow ended up in the Restricted Section? Is there some secret passage I hadn’t known about? Care to share to the class?” Ominis pinned him with a look and despite knowing his friend was blind Sebastian still raised his hands in surrender. Ominis sighed, there was no point really. When he had agreed to be friends with the troublesome boy in their first year he had signed up for this. It’s his fault for not seeing the mischievousness in those innocent brown eyes.

“I’m surprised,” Ominis continued as he started the trek back to their common room, the painful small talks he had with the headmaster in order to prevent anything getting sent to Solomon already fading as he got further away from the office. He could only imagine the absolute hell the old man would’ve sent their way if he had heard of his rendezvous in the Restricted Section. “It just isn’t like you.”

Sebastian scoffed, “To be in the Restricted Section? Where have you been the past year?”

“No, you idiot,” he hissed. “It isn’t like you to be caught.”

The falter in Sebastian’s steps had him raising an eyebrow, neck snapping back in accusation. “I’ve been caught once,” Sebastian reminded him quickly of the time Scribner first put the anti-Alohamora charm in the doors of the Restricted Section.

"I'm not finished," He’s hiding something. “It isn’t like you to be caught twice.”

He stopped on his track at the sound of Sebastian’s wince. “Okay, don’t be mad –”

“Oh no.”

“The new fifth-year needed some help to get in the restricted section because – well, I actually can’t tell you, she made me swear – and it’s bigger than the both of us and it was going so well! But Peeves caught just as we were about to –”

“Honestly, Sebastian, enough!”

He didn’t need to hear any of this.

Sebastian was right. Whatever great big mess that new kid was in the middle of was bigger than the both of them. And he has had more than enough on his plate trying to keep his friend out of trouble without the additional presence of another mysterious adrenaline junkie being thrown in the mix – one who was worryingly a magnet for big trouble. It was no wonder Sebastian was transfixed; he was looking at the damn mirror.

“Whatever fascination you have with that girl ends now,” It doesn’t escape him how much he sounded like a father getting in-between two lovers. He would’ve laughed in incredulity at the current situation he had found himself in if he wasn’t so bloody frustrated. “You get in enough trouble on your own, she doesn’t need to be sucking you up in her own problems.”

Sebastian makes a sound that doesn’t sound like a ‘yes, Ominis’ and the blond’s blood vessels nearly pop. He cannot believe this.

“Come on, it wasn’t like that. Honestly, she was brilliant! You should’ve been there; she took to the Disillusionment spell so quick that if we hadn’t let out guard down, we –”

“Oh, Merlin’s Beard, why don’t you marry the damn girl and the both of you leave me out of your tomfooleries!”

That would be ideal, he thinks. In a perfect world, he’s going to lock the two of them in a room and eat the key. There he would have no daily nuisances, won’t have to worry about sneaky Slytherins and the explosion of troubles they bring with them, and won’t need to suffer through Headmaster Black’s presence to get them out of it. A thankless job that brought nothing but headaches.

It was only when he was out of his blissful reverie that he realized his headache had stopped walking behind him seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

No.

“Sebastian … “

The other boy audibly flinched, his breath now irregular, and Ominis will bet all the galleons in the Gaunt’s vault that if he could see his old friend’s face would be as red as a Gryffindor’s arse right now.

He could almost cry, his palms producing embarrassing cold sweats at the absolute worst-case scenario unfolding in front of his unseeing eyes. “Please – I am begging you – not this one.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Oh no, no, no.

Suddenly, the prospect of Sebastian and this troublemaker getting together was not that idyllic. In quick successions, all possible worst-case scenario popped in Ominis head. Sebastian was bad enough, if he had someone who was equally as reckless and rash as him it would be something out of his worst nightmare.

Ominis is a good person. This can’t be happening to him.

“Sebastian, listen to me –”

With only a breeze as his answer Sebastian skipped right past Ominis and up the grand staircase. Ominis could feel the heat of his face. “No time to talk. Got somewhere to be –”

“Sebastian, no!”

Why must it keep happening to him?

Sebastian was pretty sure the house in Feldcroft has not heard Anne’s laughter in a long, long time. Yet, here you were, huddled together with his sister, whispering giggle-worthy stories about him no doubt by the way your gaze kept fluttering back to him, and lifting the dreadful ooze that has monopolized the small space since his sister’s illness.

“Nice girl,” He had nearly jumped out of his skin when he realized his uncle had been sitting on the spare bed hidden by a curtain.

“Y-Yeah,” Merlin’s beard you even got his unpleasant uncle’s favor in such a short time – a miracle worker, truly. “She’s … quite something.”

Talking to him has always been awkward.

Even before Anne had gotten sick, he found it difficult to converse with the man who looked too much but was simultaneously nothing like his gentle, kind father. And maybe it was also the childish insistence that if he had let the man into his heart, he would betray his parents – his father – that he just couldn’t let him in. It would feel too much like replacing him so he just opted in letting Solomon linger at the precipice of his life and the man was more than happy to do so.

After all, if Solomon was nothing like his father, Sebastian was everything that reminded Solomon of his dead brother. And those were holes none of them could fill for each other.

“You know, your mother was the same,” Sebastian’s eyebrows raised, never hearing Solomon talk about her till now. “When she was a 7th year I was just starting in Hogwarts and let me tell you, I had little hope for that brother of mine of ever getting her attention.”

His uncle continued to stare at you like he was seeing a ghost – the good kind – not the kind he sees when he looks at him. “She was brilliant, loved by even the firmest professors. And was always willing to hold out a helping hand, even to lost first years whose ass of a brother left to go fend for himself in the confusing moving stairs of Hogwarts.”

Even Sebastian let out a chuckle at that ridiculous image. Sometimes he forgets that even his old uncle had once been a child. The thought is uncomfortable, especially looking at the man he is now. “I always told him he was out of his mind for courting your mother but did my crazy brother listen? Absolutely not.”

Where was he going with this?

Sebastian returned his eyes back to you.

Brilliant, admirable, courageous you.

With your bright smile that feeds his ego by always shining brighter with him. The recklessness that never fails to infuriate and impress on his last nerves. The kindness you innately had in you that makes him want to wrap you up in the finest silk then lock you up in an impenetrable room so nobody else may ever touch it – so nobody else may have you.

That would be best, he thinks.

“It would seem even that insanity he had passed on to you.”

Sebastian’s eyes widened, forcing himself to take slow, deep breaths so all his blood doesn’t go to his face, unable to look at the older man. “It’s not like that,” he cleared his throat, now unable to look at you. “We’re … friends.”

“A good … companionship is built upon friendship,” Sebastian’s head whipped to this uncle as if to say ‘how would you know?’ but his uncle just grunted, shrugging before standing up to busy himself in the kitchen, calling you out to assist and telling Anne to take her medicine.

A good companionship. He knows it’s a bit too early but the thought of it wasn’t as horrifying as he thought it would be. The budding interest he had in his new friend was pushed and shoved into the deepest nook of his brain – he had more pressing things to tend to, one that was more important than discerning why he could recognize the sound of her laughter in the middle of dinner in the Great Hall.

But if he really thinks about it, takes a moment to breathe and considers it … it would be nice. She’s had research interest but with her grades and skill being a renowned curse-breaker or even an auror isn’t out of the question. If he works hard, he knows he’d be able to keep up and support her and Anne – maybe even set up an apartment in the city, they can just visit his sister when they have the chance.

Of course,he will try to encourage her to settle back down in Feldcroft if Anne still lives here but Irondale is quite beautiful too, a good place to practice flying when they have a family, let his children experience a true childhood surrounded by peace and quiet – two kids would be nice. Twins run in the family so maybe he could convince her for another one if their first pair are of the same gender. He would really like a daughter who looks just like --

 “I like her.”

“Bloody hell!” Sebastian jumped when he realized his twin sister was now right in front of him while he was deep in his embarrassing delusions. (When did the members of his family become so sneaky?) She grinned at him as if she knew exactly what had him so distracted. To avoid her piercing stare, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders as he guided her in the little nook of her bedroom where all the vials full of her medicines were stored.

“I knew you would. ‘s why I brought her here.”

“Oh?” Anne nonchalantly drank a disgusting-looking fluid in one gulp. “So, it wasn’t cause you wanted to monopolize her and get ahead of your competition back at Hogwarts?”

Sebastian gawked, his entire body heating up from the accusation. “What – no, it’s not – I thought she would cheer you up!”

He quickly took a quick peek at the corner, relieved that you were too busy charming his uncle off to hear such absurd allegations against him. He wouldn’t want you to get the wrong impression of him at all. After all, for how wondrous those visions are, he puts your friendship on a pedestal above anything else.

He thinks he’ll be more than content to be just your friend. Maybe.

“How gracious of you, brother,” Anne smirked, in this light it was almost like the old Anne.

Sebastian smirked at her, masking indifference, “I try.”

He should’ve known. Anne would be the one who might just see through all of him, even the things he likes to keep from his head. Even his most impossible dreams of cozy cottages and soft days.

“Sebastian!” The twins straightened up at your voice, both felt like they had been caught red-handed as you cheerfully rounded the corner. “Oh, was I interrupting –”

“No, not at all!” Anne pushed Sebastian firmly, making him stumble and catch himself just as he was about to crash into you. The proximity forces him to stare as your eyes crinkled when you smiled. He stops breathing.

You’ll look dazzling in white; he thinks.

“Your uncle told me your neighbor had some mint in their garden, said you could help me find it? It would go well with the juice.”

Sebastian’s eyes fell to your lips as you spoke before physically ripping his eyes out to look at your eyes, nodding, as his brain tried to keep up between his imagination and the reality of your face in front of his.  You grinned, already walking towards the door. He lets out a breath, the faint traces of your perfume that he gave you wafting an enchanting trail that kept his gaze on your retreating back.

“Get on with it,” Anne pushed him again and this time he gave her his deadliest glare as he followed after you. “You can’t hide her in Feldcroft forever.”

“Zip it.”

Solomon stood next to Anne as they stared at the two sweethearts in their own worlds as they made an adventure out of the small trip. Anne couldn’t help but giggle when Sebastian tripped because he was too busy looking at you instead of the road.

“Are men always this stubborn and stupid?”

“No,” Solomon grumbled, heart aching fondly when in a blink he could almost see a different mirage of figures that were both familiar and strangers at the same time. “He’s just his father’s son.”

“It’s over.”

Sebastian turned his head, straying his eyes away from the night sky framed by the room’s glass ceiling to look at you.  “It’s over.”

The two of you lay down on the floor of the room of requirement, sneaking away from the graduation party to spend the last moments of your life as a student in Hogwarts together. It wasn’t intentional, you had sneaked out for a proper goodbye to the sentient room and thanked it for everything it had provided for you but, like always, Sebastian had gotten ahold of your sneaking form before you could take two steps away from his side.

Sebastian can see that the inevitability of it all is making you emotional, a Hogwarts-shaped hole already forming in the crevices of your heart. The thought of no longer having this haven to escape the world's cruel realities makes him sigh.

“I’m terrified,” your whispered confession surprised him.

His gallant darling? Scared?

“What for?”

You smiled at him sheepishly. “It feels stupid but … I’m scared of things changing. I feel like that little girl again – 15 years old and alone in this great, big world I was thrust into.” Sebastian noticed a shudder crawl over your body. “And this time I won’t have a cheeky Slytherin lad to show me around.”

Sebastian frowned, unsure if he was more disappointed at you for thinking you would lose him that easily or at himself for not nailing that the two of you were tethered forevermore in that bright head of yours.

Instead, he took your shaking hands that you tried to hide and held on to it tight.

You smiled up at him. “Promise to stay in touch?”

He could almost scoff at such an understatement of a request. Do you know I’m never letting you go?

“You’re not getting away from me that easily,” he grinned, hoping to charm the rest of your remnant fears away. “I expect weekly letters while I’m away from training.”

You scrunched your nose, which he thinks is just adorable “What? So you can brag to your fellow trainees you have a lovesick lady waiting for you at home?”

He laughed at that, eyes crinkling and heart racing, “Maybe I should keep a photo of you plastered on my wall then, really commit to the part. A pretty face like you on my walls should make me the envy of my entire group.”

Her laugh came out nervous, her grip on his hands tightened. She’s still scared.

If only he had been sorted in Gryffindor maybe then he would’ve been daring enough to say something. To fall to his knees in this room and let his forehead kiss the ground and beg you to stay with him, run away with him, marry him. To let him spend the rest of his lowly life making sure you will never be lonely again.

But the fates were cruel and for all his pretense of confidence, the gods’ honest truth is he is a coward. A coward with no prospects.

If he wants your hand he needs to prepare, to follow the plan he had mapped out since the night he had realized he would very much like to spend the rest of his life with you or die trying. He might not be worth anything for now but he’ll make himself enough.  He just needs to hold on … just two more years – it’s all he asks.

Just two years for him to establish himself, to become someone, to earn the right to ask you. He knows it will be hard, you’ll be engrossed in your own research and won’t be able to see him as he trains to be an auror. And there was always a risk of you meeting someone else but he’s already made Poppy swear to report everything to him while she accompanies you in your travels, a contingency plan for any hurdle that may put a wrench in his plans.

If all of this fails then so be it, but he won’t lose you from a lack of planning or trying.

“Why are you looking at me like that?

He didn’t realize he was staring at you while his thoughts ran wild. The dark of your eyes reflected the ceilings you had charmed with the sky of the Forbidden Forest. The dim hue of the room made you look ethereal, like a forest fairy sent to lead him to a beautiful doom. He’d follow you anywhere.

Is it too soon to tell you I love you?

Is it too late?

“Have I ever told you that you’re the only one I need?” Sebastian suddenly whispered, vulnerable.

It’s the closest thing he’ll allow himself to say for now, placating the intensity of his need to be close to you by properly laying on his side and pressing a firm hand on your cheeks as you followed his lead, your own loosely dangling on his waist.

“Don’t you think Ominis will be quite offended by that?” you teased, your fingers tracing patterns on his spine.

He couldn’t help but match your grin, “He’ll live.”

“Sebastian,” your words quiet but he moved his hand at the back of your head to pull you in closer, muffling your following words on his chest. “Promise me nothing will change?”

Sebastian’s hold on you tensed, pressing the gentlest kiss at the top of your head to silence his protests.

No, he wants to scream. Everything has to change.

He’ll change everything for you.

“I promise,” he lies.

He’s no Gryffindor, after all.

[ 5 years later ]

“I almost fucking killed you!”

You rolled your eyes, which was a bad idea considering the curse that malfunctioned in Gringott’s brought upon a gaggle of Inferis along with a mutated one that grew about ten feet tall. Before it could lunge straight at your head, Sebastian – Merlin’s beard, he was still as handsome as the day you had left Hogwarts – pulled you into him before casting a Protego followed by a Confringo, blasting the undead’s arm away.

Still his favorite after all these years.

“What? You become a bigshot Auror and forget my face?!”

With an Incendio, the rest of the Inferis were now weakened enough that Sebastian was able to finish them all in one go (bloody hell!). Giving you time to gather yourself and lash out a heavy burst of ancient magic to take care of the giant Inferi once and for all.

You wobbled from the effort but firm hands and a chest caught you. When you looked up you were greeted by a cantankerous Sebastian covered in dust and dirt.

“As if I could see your face in those ridiculous glasses you’re wearing. Is that a lizard’s eye?”

You pulled on the offending thing, turning and standing on your tiptoes to put it on him, then he could see that it helps with seeing the traps laid out around the vault. “Satisfied your inquiries, Mr. Auror?”

He pushed the glasses to the top of his head, still looking down at you with a suspicious glare. Damn him and damn the entire male race for their inability to stop growing their limbs. “I should have you arrested. Illegally breaking into Gringots? What were you thinking?”

“Please, any curse-breaker you sent this way would’ve been eaten by that curse, I barely got out with my life if not for my ancient magic.”

Sebastian’s eyebrows twitched in the familiar way when he wasn’t particularly fond of you – which usually only happens when you throw yourself in danger … like today. Old habits die hard.

“I –”

“Save it,” he raised a palm. You sucked your lips into a thin line comically – it has been half a decade since you last saw him after all, you’re not entirely quite sure If this Sebastian in front of you would hesitate in throwing his prodigal best friend into the cold stone walls of a ministry ordained prison. “You owe me.”

Before he could, you fired off a blast of ancient magic behind him, crushing the lone Inferi that was bidding its time under a rock. You smirked. “Are we even now?”

“Not even fucking close,” His face was blank, unamused. Sebastian’s patience has never been the longest but this is one of the few times his ire was aimed at you, the novelty of it would make you blush if you weren’t so guilty. “Where have you been?”

This time it was your smile that fell, eyes dropping with it in shame. Straight to it, huh.

“Sebastian … I left a lett –“

“A letter! You call that a letter?!” He guffawed, turning his back on you and started pacing just at the ledge that led to a very, very, long fall to the bottom of Gringotts. Your fingers twitched to reach out for him but you had a feeling he wasn’t particularly interested in getting mothered right now as he spiraled out the words you’re sure he had surely been holding the past years. “My dearest friend, one who fights trolls for practice and is the most wanted woman of all dark wizards in the country disappears without a trace even when I spent an entire year searching for her –”

He looked for you?

“—but oh no! All is well Sebastian, she left you a bloody note!”

You felt like a reprimanded toddler but maybe (just maybe) you deserved it. “It wasn’t my finest moment.”

Something in your words snapped the last of Sebastian’s nerve. The gall of you – to stand here like it was nothing. The days he had spent tracking you, dreading the moment he would be greeted by your corpse.

How dare you leave? How dare you leave him? Of all the people in this world you were the one who was supposed to stay on his side.

‘I’ll be back. I promise. I just need time’

He marched to where you were standing, cupping both of your shoulders so you can look at him. “I will be given an explanation.”

Instead, your eyes fell on his left hand. He followed your line of sight, the gold band around his finger making all your cruelest nightmares come true.

How did it come to this? You scoured your memories of your entire friendship – how had the two of you come from being unable to keep a single secret from each other to strangers that have too many unspoken grievances in between them?

Was this inevitable?

Finally, you gathered your strength. He did deserve the truth from you of all people. And you could truly never keep a secret from Sebastian even now – which is also why you left. The shame, the unjustified anger, the hurt in your chest when you looked at him – you couldn’t handle it.

“I … I heard from Leander.”

His frown deepened. What does Leander have anything to do with this?

“I was going to visit you on the last weekend of your training. Then Leander caught me in town and he said … he said that after you had finished your auror training you were planning to propose, that you were already looking for a ring.”

He is going to kill that orange blabbermouth fuc –

“I couldn’t – surely, you couldn’t be that daft. I … I loved you, Sebastian! And I know I’m your friend and I should’ve been there for you. And I really am – I am happy for you,” you took his hand, your gentle touch shakily running through the gold band around his ring finger as you tried to hold back the tears. It felt like it was mocking you, like it could burn a mark on your skin. “If anyone deserves to build a family it would be you. I just … in that moment I couldn’t be happy for you. I needed to remove myself from the situation and I couldn’t say goodbye – you wouldn’t have let me! I panicked and I was hurt and … I really am sorry. I’m so sorry, Sebastian.”

As humiliating as it was to say all the hurt that you were carrying with you as you traveled the world to escape your love for him it did make you feel lighter. Were you a coward? Maybe so. But you will not shame your past self for what she did out of hurt and fear. It was painful but necessary.

It wasn’t until Sebastian was cupping your face and wiping your cheeks with his thumb that you realized you had been crying.

“Darling, who did you think the ring was for?”

You blinked, “What?”

You could tell he was trying to lengthen his patience with you, clearly as he was the more emotionally stable one at the moment even though it looked like he was at the precipice of choking you. "Have I ever told you that I was courting anyone?”

The conversation was taking a turn you weren't expecting. “N-No, but Leander and Everett used to keep teasing you about the Ministry girls that was always at your tail so I just assumed …”

He raised his eyebrows, holding onto your cheeks tighter so you had to look at him. For the first time in your entire friendship, you couldn’t read him at all. “I assumed you became interested in one of them.”

He sighed, “No, sweetheart. I did not become interested in any of them.”

You frowned, still feeling the cold ring on your cheek. “Then who did you marry?”

“I’m … not married.” This time it was him who seemed to blush, actually breaking eye contact to chuckle. When he looked back at you it was like you were getting a peek of the boyish Sebastian you once knew. “I would have been if the beautiful witch I had been chasing did not disappear on me right when I was about to propose.”

His words sunk into you like molasses, the wrinkle in between your eyebrows disappearing as your eyes widened in realization. Surely, he doesn’t mean –

“I just wore it since I would’ve been wearing it either way if someone had said yes. And it’s a more effective way to ward off any hopefuls. A little white lie to cover up my bruised heart and spare their egos”

“Wait, wait –“you tried to push him away but one of his arms just wrapped around your back, pushing your chest to his. He wasn’t going to let you get away this time, if he has to cast a binding spell on you without your knowledge then so be it.

The past five years had been torture enough.

“I guess it’s what I deserved. Letting the love of my life wait around just because my pride wanted me to earn the right to ask for her hand. The Hero of Hogwarts, the brightest witch of our age – surely, I couldn’t just ask her, could I?”

The abundance of information threatened to drown your head in. Pieces of the grand puzzle that never seemed to fit right clicking and clacking in your head as you slowly pieced together the blanks in the history of your relationship because you didn’t bother to ask and he didn’t bother to say anything.

He means you right? He was going to propose to you? The bloody ring you’ve been having nightmares about was for you?!

But he had never … I mean sure you flirted here and there but it was nothing … official. No words were ever shared, no announcements, nor formality.

It was all very … murky and ambiguous.

“Hey, back to me, darling,” he gently pressed his thumb that was still holding on to your cheek. “I swear even when we’re together it’s like you’re still running away.” As if suddenly lost in thought himself he murmured, “Should I charm a chain on you, after all?”

You blinked and the dark glint in his eyes that you had only seen in his darkest moments in your fifth year disappeared, now replaced with a small cheeky smile.

“Sebastian, the ring was it – surely it wasn’t –”

“For you?” He was so close now that you could count all the freckles in his face, his lips running through your cheeks, even pressing a kiss on your temple. “Then riddle me this, my love – if not for you then who else would it be for? Hmm? Who else would I be begging to be my wife if not my most treasured friend? The one person who stood beside me through it all?”

Another kiss on your cheeks. “The only light in my life?”

The underside of your jaw. “The beautiful witch who had rudely stolen my heart when we were children then had the nerve to run away with it just as I was able to gather all the courage I had to ask for hers in return?”

He moved both of his hands to wrap around your waist, pulling and pulling and pulling as if he wanted to meld the two of you together. “Who else but you? There was and would’ve been nobody else but you.”

A shadow of a kiss at the edge of your lips. “You’re the only woman I have ever loved.”

Your heart threatens to explode.

“And you’re the only one I will ever love,” he whispered, but the quiet of the caves of Gringotts made his voice echo inside your overheating skull.

You had been aware of Sebastian’s charms when you were younger but now that he was using his pretty face and raspy voice at its full extent while professing his love for you in the murky caves of Gringotts and pieces of Inferi corpses scattered on the ground – you could almost feel your brain malfunctioning.

“I had resigned myself to a life of isolation if you had never come back,” he declared. “But you did. Why?”

He was not going to accept anything less than the truth. The intensity behind his eyes, the grip he has around you was so firm you were almost hanging off the ground. The unbearable weight of your guilt for almost driving this man to insanity even if it had not been your intention had you letting go of your defenses.

“Because I missed you,” you admitted, eyes looking straight at him to finally bare your soul. “And I couldn’t find anything the world could offer that could compare to you. Even if we just remained friends I –”

His chuckle cut you off.

“We could never just be friends,” he whispered, you couldn’t agree more. “We were never just friends. Darling, I’m not a religious man but if soulmates are real then yours and mine have always been tied to each other. And if whatever god is up there was cruel enough not to have done that then I would’ve knotted it myself.”

You giggle through your tears – you had played out so many fantasies of Sebastian’s confessions and yet now that you were living your wildest dreams it felt like your heart was trying to escape your chest.

“If you hadn’t come back, it would’ve done nothing short of killing me, you have to know that,” a ragged breath escapes him as if the mere memory of your escape were enough to cause him physical pain. “Because I love you and I have always loved you even back when I didn’t know what love is. Even when love was a mere flutter in my chest every time I looked at you. Even when I was a fool in a path to destruction I … I have always, always loved you.”

You nodded, almost gasping at the intensity of his words. “I love you too, Sebastian. So much. I would’ve always come back. I couldn’t – I would’ve honestly poisoned your wife if you had married another.”

A laugh exploded out of his mouth at your sudden proclamation, echoing through the eerie corners of the caves. “And I had more than enough daydreams of torturing any lovers you might’ve taken in your travels.” The sickly-sweet tone that contrasted such horrid words had you giggling.

“Think we should stick to each other then?” You roped an arm around his neck, letting him carry your dead weight. “Spare some poor suckers from poisons and murders.”

He grinned, leaning in closer and closer, “You always had been the one with bright ideas.”

You smiled just as he finally pressed his lips into yours. Even your wildest dream couldn’t compare to this. Sebastian’s greedy grip on your waist, his familiar scent, his taste – him. It wasn’t perfect – a bit too rough, too needy yet somehow never enough – it was better, a perfect amalgamation of your entire relationship.

“Marry me,” he commanded in between kisses, too desperate to separate from you for more than a second. “Tell me you’ll have me.”

“You’re mine,” You gasp when he suddenly turned you around and pressed you on the jagged wall of the cave. “Always been mine.”

You’ve never not been mine.

Suddenly, Sebastian ended your kisses, a whine slipping out of your throat which he placated with a quick peck before he haphazardly pulled a necklace of some kind around his neck, snapping it to let the pendant fall into his palms.

Only it wasn’t a pendant. It was a ring. The ring.

“Oh my, Sebastian,” your vision blurs with tears as he gently takes your shaking hand, slipping the beautiful jewelry on your ring finger where it shall sit forever. “It’s beautiful. I can’t wait to marry you.”

He groaned, pressing his forehead to your temple as you continued to admire the ring on your finger.

“You keep buttering me up like this and I’ll have to kidnap the first priest I see when we get out of here.”

“I wouldn’t object to that, we’ve never been one for propriety.”

“I can’t believe we had our first kiss in Gringott’s of all places,” he muttered, the vibration of his voice tickling your chest as he buries his face in it.

“That wasn’t my first kiss.”

That had his head snapping, eyes murderous at your words. "What?”

“It wasn’t yours either.”

“Huh.”

You nodded slowly, not breaking eye contact as he tries to scour through his memories.

“Remember our fight in the Room of Requirement? About the Triwizards game?”

He winced. “I’d rather not remember that.”

You shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

You settled back, knowing him well enough to know his mind was rapidly working through his memories to figure out the cryptic declaration you had confessed.

It had been frustrating when you had remembered such important event days after it happened. All it had taken was a faint whiff of Sebastian’s shampoo in your pillow in the room of requirement before you were shooting up in your bed at the memories trickling in your brain as you tried to figure out if it had been one of your more apparent daydreams only to scream when you had realized it had happened and the two of you completely forgot about it.

You had become wary of Sebastian then, staring and studying his face at any hint that he also had the luck of remembering such bold confessions from you. You aren’t sure if you were more relieved or disappointed when he showed no inkling of gaining the curse of such knowledge like you.

But at your sudden engagement to him, you believe you have suffered enough of such vexations alone. You are to be married after all which means the two of you shall share every burden from now on -- even the most embarrassing and frustrating ones.

Sebastian’s muscles locked, pushing himself up to cage you in bed as his frantic eyes widened.

You grin. He remembers.

“No fucking way.”

“Yes way.”

He slumps back down in your chest, groaning. “Are you sure you're okay with marrying a bloody idiot?”

Your body shakes with laughter. “Lucky for you, idiots are just my type.”

[httpvomitello]

fred weasley x y/n

can you do jealousy enemies to lovers

Where they play spin the bottle and Fred got mad you almost kissed George so he kissed you for him and everyone smile and clapped

Hello hellooo, i hope you like it ~ ♡

The Spin of Fate .｡*･ﾟﾟ

Summary: When a game of Spin the Bottle at a Gryffindor party takes an unexpected turn, Fred realizes just how much he doesn’t want you kissing anyone else—especially not his own twin.

fred weasley x f!reader

The Gryffindor common room was buzzing with energy, the remnants of a victorious Quidditch match still lingering in the air. Laughter and chatter filled the space as students sprawled out on couches, a few empty bottles rolling across the floor.

You sat on the rug near the fireplace, arms crossed as you watched Fred Weasley animatedly recount one of his near-misses during the match. His grin was wide, his freckled face glowing from the heat of both the fire and the attention he was getting.

You rolled your eyes. Of course, he was the center of attention.

"Having fun glaring at Fred?" Angelina nudged you, smirking.

You huffed. "I am not glaring."

"You are," she confirmed.

"I just—he’s so—"

"Irritating?"

"Infuriating."

"Annoyingly charming?"

You made a face. "Not the words I’d use."

Angelina laughed. "You two bicker like an old married couple."

You scoffed. "We argue because he’s impossible."

"He likes you, you know," she said, raising an eyebrow.

You snorted. "Yeah, right. And I like him."

"Denial," she sing-songed.

Before you could retort, someone called out, "Spin the Bottle!"

There were cheers of approval, and just like that, the group was gathering in a circle, a mostly empty butterbeer bottle placed in the center.

"Come on," Angelina tugged you to sit beside her.

"Seriously?" you groaned.

"You afraid of a little kiss?" Fred smirked from across the circle, arms resting lazily on his knees.

Your glare could’ve set him on fire.

"Fine," you huffed, sitting down.

The game began, laughter ringing through the room as bottle after bottle was spun, leading to awkward pecks and dramatic swoons. It was all ridiculous, really.

And then, it was your turn.

You reached forward, grasped the bottle, and gave it a spin. It whirled in place before slowing… and landing on George.

A round of whoops and teasing cheers erupted around the circle.

You and George exchanged glances. There was no awkwardness—George was a friend, and this was just a game. You leaned forward slightly—

And suddenly, Fred was moving.

Before you could even process what was happening, his hand was on your chin, tilting your face towards him, and then—

His lips crashed onto yours.

The world tilted. Your brain stalled.

Fred Weasley was kissing you.

It wasn’t soft or hesitant—it was firm, possessive, as if he was making a point. As if he was staking a claim.

Your heart was pounding.

And then, just as quickly, he pulled back, leaving you wide-eyed and breathless.

The room erupted into cheers and claps.

"Finally!" Lee Jordan hollered.

"Took you long enough!"

"About time!"

You barely heard them. Your mind was still spinning.

Fred smirked down at you, looking entirely too smug. "There. Fixed that for you."

Your mouth opened and closed. "You absolute git," you sputtered.

"Come on, you weren’t actually going to kiss George, were you?" He raised an eyebrow.

"That’s how the game works!"

Fred just grinned. "Had to save you from a bad decision."

You glared at him, your face burning. "You are unbelievable."

"And yet," he said, tilting his head, "you’re not slapping me."

You wanted to. Merlin, you wanted to.

Instead, you grabbed his collar, yanked him down, and kissed him again—just to wipe that smug look off his face.

It only made the cheering louder.

[distantdarlings]

SHOW ME // n. longbottom

RATING: R / 5.5K WORDS

Neville Longbottom x Gender-Neutral Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* During winter breaks from school, you and your best friend, Neville Longbottom, spend a significant amount of time at the Weasleys’.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! (PIGenderNeutral - no protection), gender-neutral reader, dom!reader, sub!Neville, kissing, reader talks Neville through everything, they have sex on the Weasleys’ couch (I’m sorry, Weasleys), friends-to-lovers, language, not fully proofread (lmk if I missed anything)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Chemistry - Gigi Perez

- - -

For the last few years—as soon as Hogwarts let out for winter break—you'd found yourself packing for a different house than the one you'd grown up in.

Of course, you'd end up at your childhood home eventually so you could share Christmas gifts with your family, but the first few weeks before Christmas day were spent elsewhere.

At The Burrow, to be exact. A cozy dwelling that resembled several small houses stacked on top of one another vertically. Every time you stopped in front of the huge building, you found yourself squinting against the sun and cranking your head back to try and take it all in.

The Weasleys were a wonderful family and never hesitated to take you in every winter. You and every other one of their many children’s friends. Their presence felt almost as close to home as your own family.

You stared at the grand array of all of your things packed neatly away. With hands on your hips and head tilted to the side, you surveyed everything to ensure you had all you needed.

A knock on your door echoed throughout the emptied dorm room. You looked back and made eye contact with Neville Longbottom.

A smile spread across your lips. You nodded him further into the room.

Clutched in his right fist was a tattered leather bag, stuffed full with all of his things. It was less than you were taking home but more than some of the students here had. Though, not by much.

“I'm just making sure I'm completely covered,” you explained, turning back to your things.

“I’d say you're completely covered and then some,” he chuckled nervously. He came to stand beside you and stopped.

Jokingly, you nudged him in the ribs with your elbow and rolled your eyes. Embarrassed, he hung his head and softly apologized.

“I'm just messing with you,” you laughed. “Don't take me so seriously. Merlin knows I don't.”

“‘Can't help it sometimes,” he shrugged.

“I know,” you responded. “Help me grab everything?”

He nodded and shifted his bag into his left hand so he could grab one of your bags. The two of you always traveled to the Weasleys together, usually by the Hogwarts Express with the flame-headed children themselves, but this year was different.

This year, you were both able to Disapparate and had decided to come a few days later than the others. Call it practice.

Harry Potter and Hermione Granger had already left with the Weasley children and were probably settled in, sucking down cinnamon hot chocolate and swapping stories. You'd be lying if you said you weren't a little jealous.

But, Neville wanted to Disapparate and couldn't leave until today, and you weren't going to leave your best friend alone.

“Ready?” he asked. You grabbed the last bag on your bed and nodded.

He seemed to stand there awkwardly for a moment, preparing himself to lead the Disapparation. It was his practice and you knew he didn't want any help, but you could hardly stand to watch him struggle.

You reached over and selected his hand with your free one, entwining your fingers within his. You could hear his slight inhale of breath as your skin touched his. The familiar heat coming off of him settled in your chest. Comfort blossomed when he was near.

“Go ahead,” you whispered supportively. His fingers subconsciously tightened around yours as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He envisioned where he meant to take the two of you. There was a brief moment of silence before the two of you whipped away.

The two of you slid together abruptly and meshed in and out of one another, almost sickeningly so, before your feet suddenly hit solid ground, knocking both of you into each other.

The air was pushed out of your lungs as Neville collapsed to the dirt with a grunt and you fell atop him. Your hands braced against his chest and his arms wrapped gently around your waist in an attempt to catch you before you face-planted.

Your body slammed into his, your nose stopping inches from his. A small gasp released from both of you as your thoughts collected themselves, only to converge onto the other.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” you said gently, easing yourself back off of him and helping him lean up.

“‘S okay,” he murmured shyly, shaking his head. He pulled himself to his feet, brushing the dust from his sweater.

“Nice fucking landing!” A voice echoed against the curve of the Burrow.

The two of you turned to see the Weasley twins standing on either side of the front entrance, hands on their knees and guffawing. You rolled your eyes at the two boys.

Neville chuckled just a bit, a blush flooding his cheeks as red as a rose.

“Shut up!” you fired back, picking a stone up from the ground and hurling it at the two of them.

Wandlessly, one of them deflected the stone, sending it flying somewhere off to the right. “Hey, don't throw shit at my mother’s house!”

“Yeah, throw rocks at your own house!”

Neville helped you gather all of the bags that had flown about when you'd landed. His head hung low as he appeared to be hiding the flush on his cheeks. You wanted to smack the twins for making him so embarrassed. They knew how shy he was and picking on him only made him retreat more within himself. You wanted Neville to enjoy this trip, not spend the entirety of it ashamed of himself and painfully aware of everything he did.

One of the twins pushed the door open, allowing Neville to slip in, bags in tow. As you followed behind him, you eyed the twins threateningly and mumbled a threat through gritted teeth.

“What was that? I couldn't hear you,” one of them said, pretending to cup his ear so he could hear you better.

“I said not to embarrass him like that. You know how he gets.”

The two of them shrugged innocently.

You turned to the one that had pretended to listen to you. “Which one are you, asshole?” You shoved your finger into his face.

“I'm George,” he said, staring you down. You deadpanned and cocked your hip.

“Really?” Too often had the Weasley twins faked being the other for their own interests.

“Yes, dear, that is George! At least I'm pretty sure…”

You looked further into the doorway to see Molly coming around the corner. A smile spread across your lips.

Immediately, you dropped all of your bags and pushed past the twins to fall into her arms.

“Oh dear, you know I missed you so terribly much!” she cried, wrapping her warm arms around you.

“I missed you more, Mrs. Weasley!” you smiled, pulling away and looking her over. “I hope all is well?”

“Yes, of course, and just Molly, dear, please! ‘Mrs. Weasley’ makes me feel old!” The two of you exchanged laughs and another hug before her eyes settled on her twin sons.

“Now, which one of you was giving them trouble?” she demanded, eyes squinting and hands placed on her hips.

The two of them looked back and forth before stuttering out explanations, blaming each other then blaming you then—

“Hush! Stop all of this bickering at once!” she demanded. “If the two of you want to bother our guests, you can help them get settled. Grab their bags out of the doorway and take them up into their room.”

“But—” Fred started. Molly’s eyebrows raised as if challenging her son to argue back. When he realized he would lose that fight, his shoulders dropped and he turned to grab your abandoned bags. George sighed and whispered a complaint to his brother.

“No complaining!” Molly said, before placing an arm around your shoulders and leading you into the kitchen. “Just soup tonight, I’m afraid, but just on time!”

“That’s more than wonderful, Molly,” you laughed, surveying the cozy kitchen as she pulled you into it. Just past the brick divider, you glimpsed Neville leaning against the kitchen counter. Molly had already stuck a ladle in his hands and had him stirring the contents of a large, bronze pot on the stove.

“Not too slow, dear, you’ll burn it!” Molly scolded him.

“S-sorry,” Neville stuttered, immediately picking up the pace.

“No need for apologies,” she smiled, selecting a small, buttery dinner roll from a wooden bowl and placing it in his hand. He hushed himself up as he bit into it, a delicious curl of steam exiting the fluffy thing.

You found your mouth watering before you’d even been in the house for a few minutes. There was little that could beat Molly Weasley’s cooking—not even the house elves in the Hogwarts kitchens stood a chance against her.

She selected the ladle from out of Neville’s hands and took back over the stirring, waving the two of you into the dining room. She mentioned that everyone else was there, preparing the table and waiting for the two of you.

As you entered the dining room through the back of the kitchen, gentle conversation became louder and louder until it stopped and seven pairs of eyes landed on you and Neville.

Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Nymphadora Tonks, Remus Lupin, and Arthur Weasley all watched as the two of you walked in.

“Hey!” An eruption of greetings echoed from the small room as each of them came over and said hello in their own ways.

You pressed a hug to Ginny, Hermione, and Tonks, laughing through murmured jokes and stupid questions. You reached across the table to place a hand within Remus’, nodding a sweet but brief greeting to the quiet man. Arthur slapped a high-five to your hand on your way past him to slap a hand against Ron and Harry, pulling them against your shoulder.

One of your best qualities had always been being a social chameleon of sorts. You could befriend anyone who was a decent person.

“How’s everyone?” You asked, helping Hermione spread rolled napkins around the table placements.

Murmurs of small, joking complaints and excited phrases echoed through the room. Already, you felt so at ease, that you could hardly imagine how you could leave at the end of this.

You glanced over at Neville who chatted lightly with Ginny. His hands spread wide as he seemed to be describing something, just as he always did when he spoke about anything he was passionate about.

You tried to ignore the twinge of jealousy that was rooted in your stomach.

It wasn't often that Neville was so open in chatting about things, especially when it seemed to be something he was passionate about. Logic told you it was likely something Herbology-related as he and Ginny were both in Professor Sprout’s class at the start of the new semester, and Neville was practically a genius when it came to the subject.

He'd tutored you a thousand times in the class and you were certain he'd do the same for Ginny. She was a smart girl, however, and you couldn't imagine her needing tutoring.

It was probably nothing. You were being ridiculous.

“He seems pretty talkative tonight,” Hermione noted.

“Hmm?” you looked at her. She nodded to Neville. Your thoughts went straight back to the boy you were trying to ignore. “Oh, I think he's talking about Herbology.”

“How can you tell?” she asked, setting the final napkin down. Your hands pressed into the table.

“Well, he only really talks with his hands like that when he's excited with what he's talking about. Plus, you see that motion he's making with his hands?”

She looked more specifically at his hands, watching as his fingers pinched together and weaved in and out of each other, before flipping at the wrist and turning towards his body. “Yeah, what's he doing?”

“He’s describing the best way to tend to the Venomous Tentacula without using the Severing Charm on it. He feels like it's cruel.”

“I thought Professor Sprout said to tend to them with long-ended instruments.”

“Her and every Herbology book about there!” you laughed. “However, none of them are particularly concerned with the ‘feelings’ of the plant. Neville, however, is. So, he developed a way to calm them long enough to tend to them without having to lose any unnecessary vines.”

“That's incredible!” she giggled.

“I know,” you responded. “I feel like I've seen him demonstrate that motion about a thousand times.”

“Well, you know him best,” she sighed pleasantly before taking off back toward the kitchen. You were slightly taken aback by her comment. Was that a common belief? Did everyone think you knew Neville best?

“Dinner!” Molly called from behind the kitchen wall. Your thoughts were interrupted by the commotion of everyone shuffling into the kitchen for their portion.

Once everyone had filled their bowls and selected their spoons—all different and collected over a long amount of years—they found their seats at the table, elbows rubbing and laughter echoing.

Neville settled beside you, warm sweatered arms brushing yours every few seconds. His thighs were pressed against yours due to the amount of people shoved at this table and, despite your lack of personal space, you found yourself incredibly comfortable.

Surrounded by all of your friends and the closest thing to family you had, you found complete peace every year and you were so grateful for it.

Neville caught you glancing around the table, taking all of the love and comfort in. A small smile built on his face as his eyes scanned yours. While you scanned the room, experiencing everything you were grateful for in real-time, Neville did the same.

You saw him watching you and turned to him. “What?” you laughed. His eyes flickered and he pulled them away from your gaze.

“Sorry,” he murmured, unable to hide all of his smile.

“Don't apologize. What, is there something on my face?” you chuckled, nudging him with your elbow again.

He shook his head, that small smile still hinting at the corner of his lips. You decided to drop it but still wondered what he'd been doing in the back of your mind. He returned to his food and you returned to yours.

***

By the time dinner had ended and the decision to open Christmas presents tomorrow night had been made, everyone retreated to their own spaces.

Hermione was rooming with Ginny and Harry was rooming with Ron just as they did every year; Tonks and Remus gave everyone their farewells; Fred and George were off plotting some heinous prank in their bedroom; Molly and Arthur had turned in for the night. And that just left you and Neville.

The two of you were settled on the couch in the sitting room near the front door. The curtains were drawn across the windows behind you and the fire in the corner smoldered. A few lit candles surrounded you, pitching a dim but warm light over you.

Neville was deep into the assigned Herbology textbook for the upcoming semester. He'd mentioned that he wanted to get a jumpstart on reading so he was well-informed by the time Sprout’s class started. He leaned against the couch arm, one hand balled into a fist and holding his head up, the other tracing the edges of the old book pages as he waited to turn them.

Your back was pressed against his shoulder, legs propped across the length of the couch with a knit blanket tossed over them. They bent at the knee, keeping the warmth in. Your arms were crossed over your chest and your head leaned against the back of the couch. Between the fire in the corner and Neville’s comforting scent, you found yourself dozing peacefully.

That was until Neville breathed a sigh and pushed his book closed.

He stood abruptly, pulling you down from lying against him. Your back hit the couch with a small startle. “Hey!”

“S-sorry, I just—I’m not…,” he stuttered.

“What's wrong?” you asked, laughing lightly. You propped yourself up against the couch.

Neville watched you closely as you stared at him with an amused look on your face. He knew you just didn't understand why he was upset, but he couldn't help but feel embarrassed. He didn't know how to word anything that he was feeling.

Then the collar of your oversized sleep shirt slipped down over your shoulder, exposing it and a small portion of your chest.

He bit back a groan and turned immediately to the kitchen. He walked through the doorways and propped Mrs. Weasley’s kettle on the stove.

“Nev, what are you doing?” you asked, placing the palm of your hand on your sleepy eyes.

He turned to the open doorway to see you standing there, crossing your arms against the night chill and shifting your weight between your feet. You wore wool socks tugged up to your calves and shorts that didn't make it past the hem of your shirt. Your legs were fully on display before him.

He turned back to the stove, hand clutching the kettle's handle so tight, that his knuckles were bleeding white.

“I don't know, I'm just not feeling so well,” he shrugged, clenching his eyes shut.

His face was turned away from you but you were certain he'd be blushing if he turned around. You wondered if you'd made him uncomfortable by laying against him, but you always did that. It wasn't an uncommon position for the two of you to be in at all. You were completely unsure what was wrong with him.

“Okay…,” you trailed off. You crossed the tiled floor and gently slid your fingers over the back of his hand. He flinched just a bit as your fingertips covered his clenched knuckles. You eased his hand away from the handle and set it between the two of you, still holding onto it.

You whispered a spell and heard the kettle fill itself with water. Another quiet string of words and the stove clicked on, flames whooshing quietly.

“If you're not feeling well, I'll make you some tea. Just come sit back down, okay?” you said, hand still wrapped around Neville’s.

Though he seemed to still be hiding his face from yours, he still sighed and conceded, following you back into the sitting room.

The two of you sat back down in your previous places, only this time you were both perched on the edge of the couch. Neville's leg was bouncing nervously and you were still holding his hand. Your thumb brushed soothingly across his knuckles.

Testing the waters in how stressed he was, you gently set your hand on his back. Just like earlier, he seemed to flinch at your touch.

Annoyed, you pulled your hand away and released your grip on his.

“Merlin, Nev, did I do something wrong?” you scoffed. “You've practically been ignoring me since we got here and you act as if I've burned you every time I get close.”

“No, I–”

“Seriously, I feel like I'm being quarantined here. If I did something or said something, you can tell me. Just please don't ignore me like this.”

“It's not that—you didn't do anything,” he sighed, pressing his face into his hands.

“Then, what? What is it?” you pushed. He pulled away from his hands and turned to face you, his eyes flicked awkwardly back and forth from you and the floor.

“Please tell me. I wouldn't be able to handle it if you were angry with me. Please, Nev, you're my best friend—”

He cut your desperate rambling off by abruptly pressing his lips to yours. Your eyes widened at the contact and found themselves staring right back at his widened eyes.

He pulled back and stared at you. You stared back. Silence fell between the two of you. When you said nothing, he dropped his eyes back to the ground. That one moment felt like the longest he'd ever maintained eye contact with you.

“I-I’m so sorry, I don't know why—” he sighed and started to stand before you braced your hands against his chest just as you had when you'd fallen on him earlier this evening. You blocked him from getting up and connected your mouths again. Only this time, you kissed him with a fervor you'd never felt before and he kissed back.

Your lips slid across each other’s, biting and sucking and tasting what you'd both been craving for years. When your tongue separated his lips and caressed the inside of his mouth, he breathed a sigh against you, grasping at your arms and pulling you closer.

Your hands pushed into his hair, each finger curling around its own strand of dark silk. When your nails scraped against his scalp, a small whine exited his lips.

Neville had never kissed anyone before and, yet, it was everything he'd never known he was missing. Your scent, your taste, and your touch were both over and underwhelming to the sensation pooling in his pajama pants. He needed more and less of you at the same time, but he’d never ask for less.

You pushed him back against the corner of the couch, crawling up his body, never pulling your lips apart. You settled your aching core over him as you straddled his lap.

His hands stayed perched against the middle of your back, seemingly desperate to hold you close but too nervous to touch anywhere else.

When you settled, your core bumped against him, and two gasps echoed between the two of you. At that, you pulled away and forced the two of you to take breaths.

“I've never…,” he trailed off, eyes starting to break contact again, but you stuck a finger beneath his chin and tilted his face back up toward you. He wasn't looking away this time.

“I'll show you,” you whispered, breath still coming out in soft pants. “I'll walk you through it, just please don't go.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” he sighed gently, eyes fluttering dreamily, pulling quiet giggles from the two of you.

Within seconds, you were pulling his arms out from around you and placing his hands on your hips. You reached between the two of you and wrapped your fingers around the hem of your sleep shirt.

He watched you as intently as you could have ever imagined anyone staring at another person. Every minute movement your fingers made, he followed like a radar.

You pulled upward, allowing the oversized shirt to slide slowly over your head. Every inch of your bare chest was revealed to Neville, easily and smoothly. A small gasp slipped from between his lips and his hands popped up like he was going to touch you.

Your eyes held contact with his as he seemed to debate the decision. A small smile slid across your lips as you watched his inner turmoil.

“It's okay, Nev, you can touch me,” you whispered. He took a deep, shuddering breath before nodding slightly and pressing his fingertips to your sides.

The warmth of his skin sent an electrifying shock through your body. You sucked in a deep breath, covering his hands with yours.

With a little help, you urged him to help you roll your hips against his. You could feel him hardening beneath you with each wave that rolled through your body.

He sighed and, with a bit of gained confidence, pressed his lips back against yours. You sighed against him, deepening the kiss with every second. His hands finally seemed to gather their own breath of courage and tightened their grip on your hips.

His fingertips dug into your flesh, manipulating your body closer against his own. His hardened core brushed against your own, eliciting a moan from each of you.

“T-That’s it,” you shuddered against his lips. “Keep doing that.”

“What?” he gasped. “This?”

He rolled his hips up against yours. Your eyes rolled toward the back of your head, the pleasure stimulating every bit of your lower half. It was unlike anything you’d ever felt. And the most annoying thing was that he seemed genuinely curious, he seemed completely unsure if that particular maneuver would’ve made you feel good or not. Fuck, what did you even need to teach him? Nature could teach pretty well on its own.

“Was that good?” he asked, knocking you out of your stupor.

“I’m sorry,” you chuckled. “Yes, it felt amazing. I’m trying to figure out how much I need to explain to you.”

“Er, everything,” he smiled. “I’m clueless, except for—well, you know, what makes me feel…good.”

He seemed embarrassed, flush starting to bleed into his cheeks once again. You laughed at his expression before pressing a reassuring kiss to his lips. “I’ll still walk you through it.”

He nodded, another small smile finding its way into his face. Your fingers gently traced his cheeks, drawing imaginary pictures across his skin. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment before he opened them once more as you began to shift your weight.

“If I do something wrong, you just stop me, okay?” you said. He said nothing, just watched you closely like he had been earlier. “Okay?”

He nodded slowly, his fingers still lined your hips.

You lifted yourself off of him and moved back along his legs, settling down on them closer to the knee. Your fingers settled around the tie at his waist, skin skimming slightly along his core through his pants. He gasped gently at the sensation but allowed you to do whatever you saw fit.

You pulled the tie loose, letting the waistband fall limp. You stood off of him and helped him slide the fabric down the length of his legs. Then, he nervously helped you slide your shorts from your legs.

You were now completely exposed before him. Underwear never really suited you, you’d decided. At least, not for right now, anyway.

With shuddering breaths, he helped you settle back onto his lap, allowing yourself to take in every ounce of his scent. His eyes scanned every inch of you, desperate to drink in the entirety of your essence.

Your bare core settled against his, the fabric of his underwear sliding deliciously against you. You bit back a moan as you allowed yourself a few indulgent grinds. He didn't seem to mind, though, as his eyes rolled backward with each roll of your hips.

“‘Look so gorgeous like this,” you whispered. He seemed to whimper delicately beneath his breath, his hands so desperately trying to place themselves somewhere. With a single finger, you brushed his mussed hair away from his forehead and pressed a small kiss there.

Then, you were leaning up and tugging his underwear down just enough to expose him. With a burst of confidence, his hands came to settle back on your hips and his thumbs braced against your abdomen. They traced across your stomach sweetly a few times before slipping ever so slightly over the edge of your core. His proximity to your most sensitive area had you shaking with anticipation.

“Can I—?” he started but stopped himself, seemingly turning the thought over in his mind.

“Can you what?” you sighed, silently begging to sit yourself down onto him. Your mouth was practically watering at this point.

“Can I…can we do it with nothing…er…on? Like, nothing between?” He looked down, shame painted over his cheeks.

You laughed softly, tilting his head back upward just like you’d done earlier. Your eyes searched his.

“Nev, we can do anything you want as long as you do one thing for me.”

“What is it? Anything.” His voice seemed a bit rushed, as if he was having to push the excitation down.

“You have to look me in the eye and tell me what you want to do,” you said. “Because I’m tired of you looking away from me. I want to see you.”

He seemed to swallow thickly at the confession. Perhaps it was the location or what the two of you were doing or just you, but he was finding it increasingly harder to keep this up. Any of their hosts could walk down the stairs at any point—

Your hips rolled toward his, your naked cores sliding against one another’s.

“Oh, my god,” he moaned aloud, almost so loud you swore he’d wake everyone in the house. You shushed him amusedly, waiting for his answer. Though you already knew what it was going to be.

His eyes found yours, lidded and lust-filled. His chest rose and fell with each pant he took. You could tell this was hard for him, keeping himself from you, even if he wasn’t quite sure of what to do.

“I want to…fuck you with no protection.” He’d stuttered just a bit, but he’d done it. And kept his eyes on you the whole time, no doubt. That just proved how much he truly wanted you. You smiled widely.

With one last acceptance from him, you sank down onto him, letting every inch of him slide into you until you were completely sheathed within him. “Fuck, Nev.”

“Feel so…,” he moaned, shyly running his hands along your bare back.

“Fuck into me,” you sighed, finally adjusted to his length. “Lift me up and start at your own pace.”

His hands wrapped tightly around you in a deep hug as he prepared himself to begin fucking you. Your heart pounded in anticipation. His soft face pressed to your bare chest, his cheek pushed against your heartbeat. And, with surprising strength, he began to ease you up and down onto him.

He set a gentle but deliberate pace, the angle you both settled in brushed every spot you needed and always neglected to hit yourself.

Your fingers slid against his scalp, gripping his hair, attempting to grasp onto any purchase available. You concealed your moans as best you could, but failed miserably. If anyone were to stand at the top of the stairs, they’d likely be able to hear you if they held their breath.

Neville groaned lightly against you as he worked himself and you towards the finish. Adoration poured into his chest at the feelings you were giving him. His lips parted and pressed against your naked throat and collarbone, sucking and biting desperately. You gasped at the sensation.

Between his presence and the pent-up desire that had built to a fever pitch until it came ready to burst between the two of you.

“Give me your hand,” you moaned. He leaned back and presented his right hand before you. You continued the pace he had set, riding him until your hips burned. You pressed his large hand between the two of you and settled it over your core. With a gentle motion, you eased his thumb over the most sensitive part of your body and urged him to provide the final bit of stimulation you needed.

With the continued pace, the burning in your thighs, his hand on your back, and the other on your core, you felt the tension explode.

Your arousal spilled effortlessly over him. It painted his lap and the inside of your thighs. You continued to ride him throughout the entire finish, hurling your body through waves and waves of pleasure.

As you tightened around him and forced your body through continued thrusts, he came within you, pumping your body full of his endless spillage. His body shook as you worked him through his first orgasm with another person, forcing it out as long as you could. You wanted this to be perfect for him.

When you came down from your high and he finally ended his, you collapsed against his chest and he fell against the back of the couch. Beads of sweat traced his flesh and mingled with yours. His chest heaved heavily, his eyes thick and lidded.

“My god, you’re perfect,” you sighed, panting aloud. Your fingertips traced down the length of his abdomen.

“You’re saying that to me?” he chuckled nervously, fingers lightly caressing your back.

“Yes, I am,” you smiled softly, leaning up and pressing a fond kiss to his lips.

Though you were best friends, it wasn’t easy to notice all of the little tells Nev had that exposed his secret infatuation for you. But, now that you’d both revealed your feelings to each other—both physical and emotional—it seemed so simple to look back over all of the interactions you’d had with him. The small glances, the hand brushes, the extra study sessions, the way he listened to you when you spoke like no one else did. You had no idea how you could have been so blind.

Your eyes were open now, though, and you didn’t plan on closing them any time soon unless you were pressed against his chest and listening to the sound of his heartbeat.

- - -

Tag List: @lilymurphy03 , @mypolicemanharryyy , @angelfrombeneth , @clairesjointshurt , @bunbunbl0gs , @acornacreacure, @niktwazny303 , @thestarlithideout, @sarahskakskskskajakwwnwjw , @yhiiil, @xxrougefangxx , @thatblackthorn, @robinyx , @starsval , @jolly4holly , @blvebanisters , @chgrch, @ilovehotmenandwoman, @smutnyrobocikwrakiecie , @synicaljah , @2dloveshp, @seagull-on-toast

[mrypotter]

Say You Won’t Let Go

Harry James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: Harry wants to stay with her till they’re gray and old… as long as she doesn’t let go.

Warnings: Kissing? Talk of future? I think that’s it! <3

Note: In Harry’s POV yet it’s third person. I hope that makes sense to y’all. :)

Note #2: Based on the song “Say You Won’t Let Go” by James Arthur. Not the whole song though. (Some lyrics)

Between each lyric- time skip. Lyrics in italics! :)

Masterlist

Requests closed at the moment

Also started another blog! @honeychamomile1

I pulled you closer to my chest. And you asked me to stay over, I said, “I already told ya, I think that you should get some rest.”

“I’m so tired.” She grumbled. Her body squirmed under the blankets as she tried to seek a comfortable position.

“I know.” Harry chuckled in response, his fingers traveling along the skin of her arm as he kissed her temple.

She hummed, her eyes once closed but when he responded she fluttered them open, eyes sparkling at the sight of him.

“You’re so pretty, Harry.” She laughed out, hand coming up to stroke his cheek, then reaching up to adjust his glasses.

She pulled him forward with her arm around his neck, digging her face into it, and he thanked Merlin she couldn’t see his red face then. He pulled her closer to his chest, arm wrapped around her back as she was once now flushed against him.

“You should stay the night.” She whispered, snuggling herself deeper into him as she kissed the skin of his neck.

He squirmed at the feeling, the tickle sensation spreading from the area she was kissing to his toes. He sighed once she stopped, having to stop the giggles that were threatening to leave his mouth.

He leaned back, taking his arm out from behind her back so she wouldn’t crush it and stroked her hair out of her face as he looked at her.

“I already told you,” he sighed. “you should get some rest.”

She groaned at his reminder, hands reaching up to ruffle his already messed up hair. She was gonna be honest, there wasn’t a time she saw it neat. That that she was complaining, his feisty hair was one of her favorite things about him.

She then pouted when her eyes met his. He chuckled at her stubbornness, shaking his head at her.

“Don’t look at me like that, I have to go back to Ron.” He reminded with a teasing warning look.

“I was hoping you would stay when I gave you the puppy eyes.” She said, putting the show on again. He shook his head once again as an answer.

She pouted deeper, her eyes dropping before she gained composure again to hide the fact she was tired.

“Rude.” She muttered, dropping her hands from his hair.

He laughed on how cute she looked, kissing her pout away with a soft kiss to the lips.

When you looked over your shoulder

For a minute I forget that I’m older

I wanna dance with you right now

Oh, and you look as beautiful as ever

And I swear that everyday you’ll get better

You make me feel this way somehow

Harry could hear the shuffling from the seat next to him, his lover not seeming to be finding a satisfactory position to sit in while doing their work.

“I don’t know what to write!” She exclaimed, dropping her quill as she made movements in the air with her hands in exasperation.

Harry shrugged, peeking at the page number she was on in her textbook and turning to it in his own. The two were doing their Divination homework, Professor Trelawney wanting them to see how the next month for them will go.

“I’m about done with taking this seriously,” she started, shaking her head.

“You’ve been thinking I’ve been?” Harry added, but she continued, ignoring his comment.

“I’m making it up.” She decided, grabbing her quill and looking at her book, humming as she found a potential imaginary scenario that will most likely not happen anyways.

“I’ll….lose a bet….?” She suggested, still looking at her book.

Harry nods before realizing she’s not looking at him.

“Yeah, sounds good,” he replies. “Um…and I’ll…be unlucky for one week.”

She grinned at him. “Mine’s more believable.”

He scoffed. “My book doesn’t have any good ones!” He said as an excuse.

She laughed. “We have the same book!”

“Whatever-get me a different Divination book in the library, will ya?”

She rolled her eyes but got up nonetheless, searching the shelves for something better for the boy. Even though the book she was using was just fine.

She heard him close the book he was previously using and looked over her shoulder at him.

Harry just so happened to be already looking at her, and forgot everything he was thinking about moments prior. He forgot he was a year older since his birthday was in the summer, forgot that his mind should be focused on school work. His brain was occupied with thoughts on how beautiful she looked at the moment. Her eyes sparkled at the sight of him looking flustered just by looking at her, his bright green eyes something she easily got lost in.

He suddenly had the urge to get up and dance with her right in the middle of the library, despite his lack of dancing skills. He wanted to embrace her as a way to claim her his, despite the fact she already was.

Everyday she seemed to get more beautiful, more breathtaking, and more gorgeous.

Even after she chuckled at his act, turning away with thoughts all about him, a soft fuzzy feeling flooded Harry, making him feel all warm inside.

His fingertips became tingly, itching to touch her face her hair her everything. She just left him and he already longed for her to come back.

She did just that a couple minutes later, laying a book down for him as they exchanged smiles.

I'm so in love with you

And I hope you know

Darling, your love is more than worth its weight in gold

We've come so far, my dear

Look how we've grown

And I wanna stay with you until we're grey and old

Just say you won't let go

Just say you won't let go

“Say you won’t let go.”

The sentence made her head come up from his chest, her fingers halting their movements on his hand.

She looked at him and laughed halfheartedly. “What?”

He was serious when she looked at him, and so her small smile dropped suddenly at his serious mood switch.

“Say you won’t let go.” Harry repeated.

“You know I won’t, Harry.” She whispered, reaching up to stroke his cheek, the smooth skin soft beneath her finger tips.

“Promise?” Harry asked hesitantly, doubt swarming in his stomach.

She sat up then, and for a split dying second he thought she was gonna leave, leaving him alone in the bed.

Instead she sat on his lap, his back leaning against the headboard. She sighed, legs on either side of his waist as her arms came up, sliding up his shoulders before her hands wrapped around his neck. “Harry,” she whispered, leaning closer.

“I want to stay with you until we’re grey and old. So old we don’t be able to get out of bed, so old neither of us can hear properly anymore. So old that we both have wrinkles covering our faces and even more when we smile. And I do that a lot around you.” She added, smiling as she said such things.

“Really?” Harry asked, voice barely audible. But she heard him well, nodding her head. “Yes,” she started, leaning closer and pecking his lips, sweet and soft, loving and kind. “And I definitely won’t be letting go any time soon.”

“I love you.” Harry whispered.

“And I love you.” She said back against his lips.

I hope you guys liked it!

[ma1dita]

kiss his face with an uppercut

smutty part 2 here-> heavy hitter

words: 4k

summary: james potter is so attractive you could beat him to death with a bludger. james potter x fem!beater!reader not from gryffindor (for the plot!!)

warnings: none! james gets physically hurt multiple times by reader, multiple innuendos, enemies to lovers kinda, less serious lovey dove more sexual tension!!! probably not accurate quidditch gameplay

a/n: sorry for the hold up guys this took almost a month of on and off editing lmfao— this whole oneshot makes me think of the filipino word ‘gigil’– simply translating to cuteness aggression; i barely know jack shit about sports much less quidditch but this concept had me looking up quidditch rules to be able to provide– eat up kids

Y/S- sibling name

Y/H- house

(posted & edited 10/10/23)

—

Oh BROTHER, this guy STINKS! I mean, how has he not gotten walloped at least once during this godforsaken game? You suck your teeth at the sight of James flying around the pitch blowing kisses to his fan club and Lily Evans, who turns her nose up at the sight of him.

Merlin, when will this game end?

The Hogwarts Quidditch Semi-Finals of 1977 was a game to watch… until both teams stopped scoring what seemed like hours ago. Both Gryffindor & (Y/H) were at a stalemate, down some players due to injury and now, even lower team morale. Gryffindor team captain and chaser James Potter, notorious Marauder, and resident flirt, is not someone who likes to lose. He’s spent all season drilling his teammates, memorizing plays, and thinking of every outcome possible to ensure another Gryffindor victory. James’ affinity to be right takes precedence over anything, after all. But after beating down almost all of (Y/H)’s reserves, James was almost vibrating with confidence. He really doesn’t lose, not if he can help it.

“AND ANOTHER (Y/H) IS DOWN WITH AN INJURY— Team captain Whithall calls for a timeout as they reconvene on what to do next! Hope you’re still comfy in the stands, folks….” the student announcer grumbles.

There’s absolute chaos on the field, and like birds scuffling over a piece of bread, (Y/S), the team’s last good beater is floating on a gurney, ready to be transported to the Hospital Wing.

“Oh, here comes trouble…” Sirius murmurs, smacking James on the back to grab his attention.

You jump down from the stands to check on (Y/S), and James is too busy reveling in the idea of winning the goddamn semi-finals that he doesn’t notice you putting Quidditch gear on.

“Easy win from here on out, Pads! The little lady’s just checking the damage. Not important,” he chortles before Sirius physically grabs his head to face the girl walking towards him, currently storming across the turf to meet him and his team.

“I’m subbing in,” you say, angry at how dirty Gryffindor’s been playing, and angry that you even have to play in (Y/S)’s stead.

“Sweetheart, this game is for serious, you know that right?” James says a bit dumbly with a furrowed brow. Both of you are head to head, and James sees the twitch in your eye as you cross your arms. Hot air is seeping out of your pores but James’s lip simply quirks up in intrigue. You’re someone he hasn’t noticed before, and the only thing running through his mind besides winning the game is that you’re really pretty. But then again, he’s always found angry women to be attractive, in retrospect.

“Yeah, for the actual cup, not…for Sirius… It’s the wrong time to joke, innit?” Sirius says to break the ice, noticing the palpable tension between your glares. Your faces are inches away from each other and he’s not sure if you two are going to fight or kiss, but it makes him grimace all the same.

“Who do you think (Y/S) practices with? Unlike you and your friends, I know when to take things seriously,” You say through gritted teeth.

“She’s legit, Potter. Got added to our reserves last week.” Whithall pipes up, ready to get back to the game. The crowd has been weathered down after hours of anticipation, and they want to see the end of it, no matter the outcome.

“Much to my surprise,” you grumble, elbowing the authority in the form of a teenage boy not much older than yourself. You should’ve known your sibling was looking a little too happy as they got floated off the pitch on a gurney.

“Then let’s play. Don’t hurt yourself, sweetheart.” James says condescendingly, floating away on his broomstick like it’s a walk in the park, but the way you’re slapping the bat against your palm is getting Sirius a tiny bit nervous for his precious countenance. The whistle blows and the game resumes.

“A SURPRISE ADDITION (Y/N) JOINS HER HOUSE AS BEATER! Gryffindor better watch out for her swi—” You slam the bludger in James’s direction and it hurtles toward him so fast that he almost folds in half, barrel-rolling on his broom to dodge it. The move makes Sirius and a few of their other teammates gasp to see James scrambling back onto his broom.

“Oops! Looks like I missed.” you deadpan, balancing midair as you whack another one where it rebounds off the Gryffindor seeker and back towards James, hitting both of them in the gut.

“THIS GIRL’S GOT AN ARM ON HER! Though might I say her hits look a bit targeted…” The commentator says worriedly, and everyone in the crowd is leaning in their seats trying to get a better view.

“Merlin, are you trying to kill me woman?” he yells in outrage.

“I’m trying to finish the game. Your big head is in the way,” you say with a straight face as Sirius bats towards you, and you spin on your broomstick without shifting your posture. The smile on your face as you taunt him should be considered criminal, but he’s looking at you in a new light.

Yeah, now he’s paying attention. The other Gryffindor players can’t seem to figure out your next move and you bat another bludger towards Potter’s extremely large target of a head, and all of a sudden he’s freefalling through the air as his teammates fly to catch him, one by one. His nose still makes impact with the ground before Sirius catches by the ankle like Achilles taking a dip in the River Styx.

“AND (Y/H) HAS CAPTURED THE SNITCH! Good job to their Seeker, Appleby! Congratulations on a job well done, so that we can all finally go home.” The commentator cringes as McGonagall swats at him to leave the podium.

Who even is she, taking over the game and stealing his win like that?

He’s walking up from the sidelines with a bloody nose, going to shake Whithall’s hand and you’re standing behind him, a malicious grin plastered between your rosy cheeks, windswept and almost ethereal while he looks like he got flattened by a hippogriff. Fuck, she’s pretty. You look like you floated down from the heavens, and by the looks his team gives him, he may have just crawled out of the earth.

“Congrats,” he grumbles, turning to you. Really pretty. It’s even worse that you’re devastatingly stunning up close— with sweat glistening on your brow and a pearly white smile, he takes a good moment to really look at you and memorize the flutter of your eyelashes. He’s unsure if he’s concussed or maybe it’s his astigmatism, but there are actual stars in his vision as he peers down at you. Your confidence is actually kind of sexy.

“You look…um…you ride well.” He stutters, shaking his head from his personal reverie.

“Excuse me?” you say, your little mouth agape in what he hopes is not disgust. He looks pathetic, blood sopping down to his jersey as he looks at you like he’s only seeing you for the first time, acknowledging you closely. Something about seeing him flail makes you crinkle your nose as you stifle a grin.

“I mean…Um…” Damn.

Sirius pulls his best friend away before you can bite back your laughter, all of your teammates leading you away to celebrate.

“Mate, what the shit was that? Are you alright in the head?” Sirius says, and if James’ nose wasn’t already bleeding he was going to slap him silly.

“Just…Didn’t see that coming…” he mumbles, and his mind, along with all of Gryffindor is in disarray as they walk back to their tower. He’s got a lot of thinking to do on what his next move will be.

—

James Potter goes through life in three methodical ways: 1.) creating a strategy, 2.) making a scene, 3.) and dragging his friends into it— in that particular order, every single time.

Now notice how considering consequences is not part of said process.

His ego wouldn’t let him rest after a girl, much less a very pretty one that he’d never noticed before—beat him at what he does best; quidditch! In fact, the next few nights were void of sleep and filled with thoughts of you. The way your hair looked so soft in the sunlight, how your lip turns almost Gryffindor red when you bite it in concentration, and maybe how your delicate hands would look as they tightly grasp onto his bat...ahem…your quidditch bat. Some dirty delusions aside, if looks could kill, he’d be dead seven times over, but honestly? He’d probably thank you for it.

James’ new mission was to figure you out, and if that was his mission, it meant it was the rest of the Marauders’ too. For the sake of winning the Cup, of course. That’s what he tries to tell himself until his mates catch him ogling you again at breakfast.

“So what is it with you and girls that inflict you nothing but pain and humiliation?” Remus muses, as the Marauders watch James laugh at a joke you told your friends at the (Y/H) table across the Great Hall. He looks at you like someone who stares at the sun, squinting and burning himself as he ponders on why he’s unable to look away.

James fumbles a response, shoving Remus as they all laugh. “Listen, I’ve got a bit of a masochistic streak, Moony. Just…There’s something about her…”

Your friends are pointing at him now, and as you turn to meet his eyes, you lift a brow inquisitively and flip him off. Sirius’s face pulls up in shock at James’s growing smile at the interaction as he mumbles, “Maybe you’ve met your match, Prongs…”

The boy pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, anything to try to see you clearer as he leans over to put his head in his hands, sighing dreamily. His friends are not as easily amused.

“A match made in heaven, you reckon?”

—

“Match made in hell, more like!” You spit, almost choking on your scrambled eggs at your friends’ insinuations. Your back is as stiff as a board, shoulders tight at the notion of you ever liking James Potter triggering your fight or flight response. When it comes to someone as pompous as him, only the word fight comes to mind.

“Oh come on, love… He’s popular, funny, and quite handsome…It’s James freaking Potter we’re talking about!” your roommate gushes, but you're not the least bit impressed.

“Is that supposed to do anything for me? I can think of a few F words that middle initial can stand for…” Eyes rolling, you peek back at the Gryffindor table to see said boy wiggling his fingers at you teasingly until he accidentally smacks Peter in the face with his toast. Idiot.

“Only hot people get away with stupid shit. I mean look at the four of them!” you continue, gulping down the rest of your coffee. “Potter’s the worst out of all of them though. Big ass head must compensate for a lot of things." You say, shaking your head at your friends.

"And yet, here you are, talking about him for the fourth time this morning," your roommate replies, smirking. " You’ve been Potter crazy since you helped us beat Gryffindor in the semi-finals! Are you sure you don't have a crush on him?"

"No!" you say too quickly, too loudly, that the shrill noise of your voice makes your ears hurt and the shit-eating grins on your friends’ faces reflect how desperate that came off. You slump onto the table, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“You wanna kiss him, don’t you?” they tease, and you push away their puckering faces as you scoff, “With an uppercut, maybe!” Almost makes you want to stomp over there and wipe the stupid look off his face…and maybe sit on his lap. You run your fingers through your hair in frustration. All this aggression really needs to go somewhere, but unfortunately, James Potter’s lap is the only destination you have in mind.

“He’s just really punchable. I get so annoyed by the sight of him I just want to… ugh!” you groan, your hands shaking as you try to convince them (or yourself). Your friends cackle at the sight of you pretending to squeeze his curly-topped, mothball-filled head, but your brain changes course and you imagine what it’s like to hold his hand. Your fingers flex cautiously at the idea, wondering what his touch would feel like. Grabbing a glass of water to cool your thoughts, your peripherals reveal he’s still staring at you like you make night turn into day. His gaze is searing, and as you put your lips around your straw, he licks his lips slowly. Shit.

—

Availability bias is one hell of a mindfuck. If only they taught psychology at this magic school, maybe the wizarding world would have way fewer problems and more people would be straightforward and not.. Dead. James decides he can categorize his life now as before you, and after you.

Before you, well… he honestly wasn’t even sure if you were a student at Hogwarts until he saw you marching down the pitch, but now… You’re everywhere. He can spot your voice in a crowded hallway, and who was going to tell him you’ve had three classes with him this whole term? Even down to when he shuts his eyes, he’s convinced his eyelids are branded with the imprint of your silhouette. Every conversation he strikes with you ends with you laughing at him, and he’s unsure if that’s a step up or down from the many boisterous rejections from Lily Evans over the years. He sort of wishes you’d laugh with him, and do a number of other things, (heck he’s got a list of ideas he’s wanked off to), and well… His soul is tightly wound with thoughts of you and Godric, listen to this guy…. maybe the boys were right…. Maybe he really does need to get laid.

It’s funny how fate works, two people who’ve barely interacted in the past six years at Hogwarts are now paired together for a History of Magic essay worth 20% of the term grade. You’re trying to get this done as fast as possible, he notices, mapping out ideas and trying to discuss how to piece it all together, yet James does everything but that to get you to pay attention to him. He fills your head with mundane little questions, asking you what your favorite fruit is to the childhood bedtime story your parents told you as a kid.

“What’s your middle name, Potter?” You muse, finally entertaining him after endless chatter. His eyes trail to the exposed skin of your collarbones as you stretch in your seat, and well… you don’t look as menacing as you always do but did it seriously have to be this question? He scratches the back of his head, silent for the first time in the two hours you’ve been trying to craft this essay for the sake of both your grades.

“What? I can’t just go around calling you James Fucking Potter. Spit it out, you know too much about me already.”

He clears his throat, a blush creeping up his neck. “It’s… that’s an intimate question, love… I…”

Your laughter at his response makes his senses shut down. “Oh, so it’s bad. What is it, Franklin? Fabio? Come on, I won’t bite.” A part of him wishes you would, your face equally flushed and so close to him right now, almost leering at him for an answer. It’d be easy to just lean over…

“Fleamont.”

Your lips quirk, until they pucker like you’ve guzzled a lemon. The blush on your cheeks intensifies, and the sound explodes out of you. You laugh so loudly Madam Pince kicks you both out of the library, James carrying both your knapsacks, a hand around your waist as you rush out of there. Your body is firm under his touch, pupils unfocused and dilated looking at him now that you know his dirty little secret. James thinks that if you keep looking at him like that, hell, you can call him anything you want.

—

Fleamont.

What a prick. A really attractive, clueless prick. The memory makes you giggle as you get ready for the Quidditch Cup and your team charges out onto the field to face Gryffindor again, as you’ve both advanced to the finals. He’s not as much of an asshole as you originally thought. It’s undeniable that something pulls you towards him, whether it be hormones, concern, or the fact that it’s actually adorable the way he writes his mother back weekly, or admirable how he moved Sirius out of Black Manor himself last year. Maybe it’s endearing the way he goes out of his way to make first-years smile or heartwarming how even Filch can’t find reasons to hate him. The golden boy. You get it now, why people get trapped in his web, and why many are unwilling to leave.

You pass him outside the locker rooms, bumping shoulders as he smiles almost bashfully. The golden boy, loudmouth, ball of energy is reduced to a nervous pile of teenage ineptness at the sight of you, every time. You could take him (not in a fight). In an actual fight, maybe you could land a few solid hits before his nice muscly arms hold you do—

“Ready to finish this, darling?”

Your eyes refocus when his hand nudges the small of your back, right above your hip. “Mhmm,” you clear your throat, “Ready to lose, Potter?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He moves closer, slowly backing you into the wall.

“Eyes on the prize Potter, I’m in this to win it.” You say, looking at the closing distance between both your chests. James nods, not taking his eyes off of you for a moment, even when the announcer calls out the imminent start of the game.

“WELCOME TO THE HOGWARTS QUIDDITCH CUP OF 1977 GRYFFINDOR VS. (Y/H)! I hope you are all excited as our last match between these teams was quite thrilling at the end of it!” The announcer says, hyping up the roaring crowd as your teams parade onto the pitch.

His eyes are still on you when he shakes Whithall’s hand and the whistle blows. It’s intense, and makes you feel like you’re burning, even if the wind is blowing like crazy today. You bat the bludgers toward anything red on the field that even dares to move toward your teammates. James won’t stop staring at you, and you both lock eyes across the pitch.

“What? Flirt with me later, Potter, I’m trying to win!” you yell.

He’s got you transfixed, and it’s crazy how his timing is always wrong. You bat the bludger away from your captain but don’t notice James flying towards you to respond as you give it your hardest swing, making the impact against his huge target of a head all the more painful.

Holy shit, did you kill him?

He keels off his broom like a shot bird and then he’s falling, and you’re the one chasing the Gryffindor chaser as he flaps his arms like the idiot you know he is as you push forward to catch him before he splits his skull open.

“I’msofuckingsorryJamesareyouokay?” You blurt out as you land, soft hands moving over his broad chest and quickly swelling face. He’s wearing that stupid grin again, and you think you may have finally broken Gryffindor’s team captain.

“You know my name?” he sighs happily, comfortable in your lap and maybe it’s the brain damage you’ve caused him or the way his glasses are bent beyond repair but you will every magical predecessor you can think of to stop you from punching him in the face right now.

“Are you fucking dense?” You scream, shaking your head, and jostling him as his arms try to reach out to swipe the hair away from your face.

“Must’ve hit him so hard you knocked his filter loose..” Sirius muses after he lands next to you two on the grass.

“POTTER’S TAKEN A HIT FROM (Y/H) and it doesn’t look good ladies and gents! Gryffindor calls a timeout to check on their captain!” The announcer calls out, and there are so many eyes on the two of you as James is simply giggling like a prepubescent schoolboy. Fuck, you’ve maimed the golden boy.

“Y’know, sweetheart. You’re…really sexy when you’re on top of me like this,” he says breathily, and you really can’t hit him, so you jab Sirius in the gut instead when he tries to laugh at his best friend’s stupidity.

—

James wakes up in the hospital wing with a blinding headache until someone gently pulls the curtains closed, stroking the hair off his sweaty forehead.

“Poppy you always take such good care of me…” he mumbles. A punch lands on his chest and his eyes rip open, not expecting to see you at his bedside.

“Idiot,” you mutter. “You’re always in my way and now look, you almost got yourself killed and it would’ve been my fault! How dare you, James…” The red is crawling up your neck like a brushfire as you berate him, and he takes it with a grin as you jabber on, putting his arms behind his head.

“Were you worried about me, love?” James smiles cheesily, catching your arm at its half-hearted attempt to slap him across the face.

“I was not. Stubborn people like you are hard to kill. I’m more annoyed that I can’t morally punch your face in since you have a concussion. Madame Pomfrey’s already healed your cheekbone.”

“That you broke,” he says matter-of-factly, taking a chance to kiss the palm of your hand. This concussion is working like a bottle of Felix Felicis. It’s endearing to see you taking care of him, whether you like it or not (even with the punches he’s sure it’ll come with).

“You’re sick in the head.”

“For you. I was trying to come tell you that I never took my eyes off the prize, but then of course you bludgeoned my face in before I could get sweet on yo—”

Your lips crash down on his, and nothing about it is delicate. It’s a month’s worth of yearning, imaginations coming to fruition as he grabs the back of your head to deepen the embrace. Your lips on his are hot and heady, and he could be easily convinced that he’s stuck there, cauterized to the shape of you.

“I know. I could feel you watching.” You breathe into his mouth, leaning up on his chest. His lips chase up again to meet yours, biting down on your bottom lip as you groan. He might like that noise better than the sound of your laughter. It’ll be fun to find out.

“Who won the Cup?”

Laughter spills out of your red, kiss-swollen lips as you pat his cheek gently, fingers grazing over his healed cheekbone.

“Not Gryffindor. But listen closely James, if you be a good boy and get past this concussion, I’ll make up for it by showing you how well I ride…”

He likes the sound of that, Quidditch Cup be damned. You see, James Potter never loses, ladies and gentlemen, not really—and well... there’s always next year.

—

“I like the way

you look at me

like you are

going to talk to me

or devour me

and I am fine with either.”

-N.R. Hart

taglist: @jsjcue

[floswife]

“MAKE ME”- H.J.P x READER

Warnings: fluff, rivals to lovers, idiots in denial that they’re in love, Harry being stupid bc why not

Pairing: Harry James Potter x reader

Author’s Notes: idk I just felt a little silly 🤷‍♀️

Summary: Harry can’t seem to keep his mouth shut around Y/n

Harry and Y/n never really got along. Why? Godric knows. It’s been going on for as long as anybody could remember to the point that the origins often varied amongst everybody.

“Oh! It was because Harry accidentally hexed her hair to be snakes.”

“It’s because she struck him by lightning to match his scar.”

“He got a bludger thrown at her during one of their quidditch practices!”

“She dressed up as you know who for a costume party once!”

None of those reasons were the actual origin of their feud, though they were actual events that had occurred.

The irony was that they should’ve gotten along perfectly well together on paper, both being in Gryffindor, both on the quidditch team, both hated by Snape (though Snape hated almost everybody except for green eyes redhead Gryffindor girls) and they both had many mutual friends between them.

They were just constantly at each others throats, it was like it was a game for the two. They definitely did always argue with a wide smile on their face.

Take today for example, it was quidditch practice and like usual, they were arguing.

“Potter, I swear to Merlin I’ll bat this bludger at you!” Y/n pointed her bat threateningly at him. The rest of the team had learnt to ignore them at that point, learning that they just work better motivated by their frustration at each other.

Harry just threw his arms up, “do it, l/n, we all know it’s an empty threat anyways because you’ll miss my face again.”

She gave him a scandalised look, “again?! Who said I ever missed your face, scarhead?”

“Ron! The last time I went to the hospital wing.” Harry grinned triumphantly as she glared at Ron at his spot by the goal to which he just observed the sky with mild interest.

“Do you know how vague that is? You’re in the hospital every other day, attention whore.” She huffed and crossed her arms.

It was then that they got shouted at by Wood to actually partake in practice to which they finally listened.

After practice where everyone was going to the changing rooms, Harry trailed after her and spoke in a sing song voice behind Y/n, “you missed me.”

She turned around with a light scowl on her face, “shut it Harold.”

He had his stupid smirk on his face that often found it’s way there when he was around there as he stepped closer to her, she stayed still, “oh yeah? Make me.”

His emerald eyes flitted to her lips and she felt her heartbeat pick up at the decreasing amount of personal space between them, “bet.”

His smile widened at her response but not for long as she pulled out her wand and wordlessly did a spell to seal his mouth shut.

In a moment of pure panic she just rushed into the changing room, did i seriously just hex a boy after almost kissing him?

As anybody would after hexing a persons mouth shut after almost kissing them, Y/n avoided Harry. Dodging him in hallways, quite literally jumping into random classrooms (though that was a one time thing after seeing a couple of seventh years exchanging spit in there).

Later in the common room, she was curled up in the corner with her knees to her chest, reading a book to calm her nerves, while also covering her face with said book.

This half assed disguise clearly did nothing for her because Ron sat right on the chair next to her.

“Y/n! My dorm now!”

She gave him an indignant look, “Ronnil Wazlib! Me and you need to have words about what you spilled to Harold you little rat!”

Ron just shook his head at her exasperatedly.

“Don’t shake your head at me like I’m your nan with dementia, I will tell ‘mione about your undying love for her!”

His eyes widened and he clasped a hand over her mouth, “just shut up and go up to my dorm.”

She threw her hands up in surrender and got up to go to his dorm, she walked into his dorm first and as soon as she turned to ask him what he wanted to talk about, the door shut in her face, she tried to open it but it was locked. She tried to magically unlock it, but it didn’t work.

Her blood ran cold when she realised her mistake, Harold.

She turned to see him sitting on his bed and he wordlessly patted the spot next to him.

She furrowed her brows but listened all the same as she sat down next to him, “that’s a little too much effort to just talk to me, Potter, just say you love me at this point.”

He gave her a deadpan stare and she then realised he was still hexed so she pulled out her wand and undid it. She gave him an apologetic look.

“Why did he try so hard to get me in here with you?” She asked curiously.

Harry seemed to contemplate what he was gonna say before he finally said, “well I’m not gonna say I’m in love with you but I can say that I like you. A lot actually.”

She gave him an incredulous look, “Excusé moi?”

He just nodded, “you’re brilliant and beautiful and smart and funny and I like you. And I think- no I know you like me too.”

She furrowed her brows, “how can you be so sure about that?”

He pushed a stray piece of hair out of her face and kept his hand cupping the side of her face, “because I know you.”

For once she didn’t argue against him and when he leaned in this time, she let their lips touch and she melted into the kiss. His lips were soft against hers and although they spent years with such animosity towards each other, it seemed to now just turn into blind affection as they naturally sank into each others arms.

When they pulled away with soft smiles still on each others faces, she spoke, “and you tried to get on my case for missing you in the hospital wing?”

Harry’s face lit up even more if that was possible, “so you did miss me!”

She rolled her eyes, “that was not new knowledge, get over it!”

He laughed and she decided to shut him up for the second time that day, except not with magic this time, but with another kiss.

It was then that Ron decided to burst in to the room, “have you guys killed each other ye- Merlin!”

He gasped at them as they jumped apart from each other. Harry looking proud while y/n looked slightly ashamed.

She threw a pillow at him as he ran off shouting for everyone saying he had money to collect.

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Playing for Keeps | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Chapter 12

 ← Previous Chapter Next Chapter →

Words: ~7,800

Tags: Modern AU, Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Romance

You paced in the dimly lit corridor just outside the secret entrance to the Undercroft, phone pressed to your ear as Imelda’s skeptical voice crackled faintly on the other end.

“Why,” she asked, drawing out the word like it physically pained her, “do you need the password?"

“It’s for a prank,” you said, keeping your tone light and breezy despite the heat creeping up your neck.

“A prank,” Imelda repeated flatly, her skepticism bleeding through every syllable.

“Imelda, come on,” you said, your tone walking the precarious line between coaxing and pleading. “It’s just a harmless favor. I promise it’s nothing that’ll get you in trouble.”

“You? Sneaking around the castle after curfew? Harmless? Very doubtful,” Imelda’s voice crackled over the line, dripping with skepticism.

You winced, shooting Sebastian a helpless look. He smirked, gesturing for you to keep going, while Ominis rolled his eyes and muttered “This is ridiculous" under his breath.

Sebastian grinned, nudging him with an elbow, murmuring. “Shush. Let her work her magic.”

You shot Sebastian a sharp look before turning your focus back to the phone. “Look, Imelda, you trust me, don’t you?”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, punctuated by a faint rustling, as if Imelda were debating whether to hang up entirely.

“Depends on the day,” she finally replied. “And the company you’re keeping. Is that Sebastian I hear laughing?”

Sebastian’s grin widened, and he leaned closer. “Hey, Reyes!”

You glared at him, mouthing stop it! as Imelda groaned audibly through the phone.

“Merlin’s beard,” she muttered.

“Look, Imelda, you’re my best friend," you pleaded, shooting Sebastian another warning look before lowering your voice to something softer. "Do this one thing for me, and I’ll owe you. Big time.”

There was a pause.

“Big time?” she repeated, her tone skeptical but curious.

“Massive,” you confirmed quickly. “Name it, and I’ll make it happen.”

A heavy sigh came through the speaker. “Alright,” Imelda said reluctantly, “but if you get caught, I’m denying everything. And I mean everything.”

“Understood,” you said, relief washing over you. “So, what’s the password?”

Another pause, then: “Coffee Bean Paste.”

You repeated it under your breath to commit it to memory before flashing Sebastian a triumphant look. “You’re the best, Imelda. I love you.”

Imelda let out an exaggerated groan on the other end. “Don’t push it,” she warned, though you could hear the faintest hint of amusement creeping into her voice. “And seriously, Chouette, if this comes back to me—”

“It won’t,” you interrupted quickly, eager to reassure her. “I swear, your name won’t even come up.”

“Fine,” she said, her tone resigned. “Good luck. You’re gonna need it.” With that, the call disconnected.

You lowered your phone, slipping it back into your pocket as you turned to face Sebastian and Ominis. Sebastian pushed off the wall, his grin wide and smug, while Ominis remained rooted in place, arms crossed and brow furrowed in disapproval.

“Well?” Sebastian asked, his tone brimming with anticipation.

“We’re in,” you said, a triumphant smirk tugging at your lips. "Coffee Bean Paste."

Sebastian hummed with satisfaction, his grin growing even wider. “See, Ominis? Nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing except the two of you getting caught and dragging me down with you,” Ominis replied sharply, though the weariness in his tone suggested he’d already resigned himself to his role in this escapade.

“Come on,” Sebastian said, slinging an arm around the other boy’s shoulders. “You’re not technically sneaking in, so your record will be perfectly safe”

Ominis gave Sebastian a withering look, stepping out from under his arm. “I shouldn’t even be entertaining this, but if I don’t help, you’ll both end up in detention—or worse.”

“See?” Sebastian said, turning to you with an easy grin. “He’s on board.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Ominis muttered, but his words fell on deaf ears as Sebastian motioned for you to follow him toward the stairs.

“Alright, here’s how this is going to work,” Sebastian began, glancing back at you and Ominis. “Moon has a pattern—he’ll be sweeping the main hallways and the Astronomy Tower about now, so we'll have lots of time if we're quick. Ominis, you’re on lookout near the staircase. Chouette and I will handle the rest.”

“Handle the rest,” Ominis repeated, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Sounds foolproof.”

Sebastian ignored him, flashing you a quick grin instead. “We’ll be in and out. Five minutes tops. Grab the picture, send Amelia Rosier into a spiral of existential doubt, and celebrate with chocolate frogs. Simple.”

You nodded, though your thoughts drifted as you followed him up the winding stairs.

This wasn’t something you would have ever done at Beauxbatons.

Back there, everything had been pristine, orderly, and steeped in an air of careful decorum. Your days had been filled with structured schedules, whispered gossip over delicate pastries, and spells cast with the flourish of perfectly manicured hands. Mischief was limited to harmless tricks during study breaks or sneaking out to the gardens after curfew—nothing even remotely as daring as this.

But here? Chaos seemed to be part of the curriculum. From enchanted staircases that changed on a whim to students plotting escapades like this, it was an entirely different world.

You had been warned about it, of course. The Hogwarts reputation preceded itself, whispered in hallways and during shared events between schools. “Ce sont des indisciplinés," one of your professors had sniffed when the transfer was announced. “Plus préoccupés par l’espièglerie que par le raffinement.”

You hadn’t believed it at the time, but now, with Sebastian leading you toward a fifth-floor bathroom for a ridiculous prank, you couldn’t deny it. This was the chaos everyone had talked about—and you loved it.

“You alright back there, Chouette?” Sebastian’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you looked up to find him watching you, a curious tilt to his head.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, adjusting the strap of your bag. “Just… thinking.”

“About how brilliant this plan is?” he teased, flashing you a grin.

“About how I never would have done something like this at Beauxbatons,” you admitted, your voice tinged with amusement.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, his grin softening into something more genuine. “A little adventure never hurt anyone.”

“Speak for yourself,” Ominis muttered from behind, earning a quiet laugh from both of you.

The three of you reached the fifth floor, and Sebastian slowed, motioning for silence. Once you were close enough, he gestured for Ominis to stop and take position near the staircase.

“Alright, this is where we split up,” Sebastian whispered, his dark eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Ominis, you’re on lookout.”

Ominis nodded begrudgingly, his frown deepening. "And your alibi? If anyone wonders where the hell you two are?"

Sebastian’s grin widened, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Easy,” he said, leaning casually against the statue of Boris the Bewildered. “We were helping you. Poor, helpless Ominis, lost in the castle corridors again.”

Ominis’ frown deepened, his grip tightening on his wand. “That’s your plan? Using my blindness as an excuse for your idiocy?”

Sebastian shrugged, unbothered. “It’s not idiocy—it’s brilliance. And besides, who’s going to argue with a perfectly plausible story?”

“Everyone with half a brain,” Ominis shot back, his voice dry. “Merlin help me, I don’t know why I agreed to this.”

You bit back a laugh, stepping closer to Ominis and offering a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry,” you said softly. “If it comes to that, we’ll come up with something better. But it won’t, because we’re not going to get caught.”

Ominis sighed, shaking his head. “Famous last words.”

Sebastian clapped him on the shoulder. "Be back in a few."

Ominis muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like idiots, but he nodded nonetheless, stepping back to take his position near the staircase.

Sebastian turned to you, his grin returning in full force. “Ready, Chouette?”

Your heart raced as you glanced at the closed door behind the statue, the faint hum of anticipation buzzing in your chest. “Let’s do this."

With a nod, Sebastian drew his wand and gave it a sharp flick, casting a disillusionment charm over himself. The shimmering ripple of magic distorted his outline for a moment before he blended into the surroundings. You quickly followed suit, your own charm wrapping you in the same protective cloak.

“Quiet steps,” Sebastian whispered, his voice just barely audible over the stillness. “And stick close.”

You nodded, though he couldn’t see it, and fell into step behind him as the two of you moved down the corridor. The hall was bathed in soft light from the sconces, and every sound seemed amplified in the quiet. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears as you crept forward, your shoes barely skimming the floor.

Suddenly, the faint echo of footsteps reached your ears, and you froze, your breath catching. Sebastian stopped too. The sound grew louder, and the two of you quickly ducked behind a pair of large stone planters that lined the hallway. You crouched low, your disillusioned form blending into the shadows.

A familiar voice drifted toward you, warm and even. “Good evening, Ominis. Out for a stroll?”

Your stomach dropped. Professor Fig.

Sebastian tensed beside you, and you could practically feel the smirk that was surely forming on his lips.

“Well,” Ominis replied, his tone steady despite the faint tension that tightened his words, “it’s hard to stroll when you’re navigating Hogwarts, Professor. The stairs weren’t particularly cooperative tonight.”

Professor Fig chuckled softly. “They do have a mind of their own. You should’ve let me know. I’d have been happy to assist.”

“No need, sir,” Ominis said smoothly. “I’ve managed just fine. Though I��m afraid I’ve lost track of the time. Near curfew isn't it? I hope I'm not disturbing you.”

“Not at all,” Fig replied, his voice kind. “I was just on my way back to my chambers. Planning for tomorrow’s lesson. You know how it is.”

“Of course,” Ominis said, nodding. “A professor’s work is never done.”

The casual, easy flow of their conversation helped settle your nerves, though you remained crouched low, your heart pounding as you strained to hear every word. Beside you, Sebastian shifted slightly, leaning closer to the edge of the planter to catch a better angle.

Fig’s voice grew slightly quieter as he continued. “You know, Ominis, you’ve always impressed me with how well you handle yourself around the castle. Not even sighted students navigate so confidently.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Ominis replied smoothly. “I’ve had plenty of practice.”

The voices paused a moment, and you held your breath, your grip tightening on your wand until Fig’s voice came again. “Well, don’t let me keep you. If you need anything, my door’s always open.”

“Thank you, sir,” Ominis said, his tone unwavering.

The footsteps resumed, growing fainter as Fig walked away. You let out a slow breath, relief flooding you as the tension began to ease. Beside you, Sebastian let out a quiet chuckle, barely audible.

“Smooth as ever,” he whispered, his voice brimming with admiration for Ominis.

From his spot near the staircase, Ominis turned his head slightly, his voice low and sharp. “Get moving, you idiots. You’re not out of the woods yet.”

Sebastian grinned, even though you couldn’t see it, and motioned for you to follow as he crept forward, the statue of Boris the Bewildered now only a few steps away. The faint thrill of danger buzzed in your chest, and as you reached the door, Sebastian glanced back, his voice a low murmur. “Ready for round two?”

You nodded, your grip steady on your wand. “Let’s go.”

Sebastian whispered the password, “Coffee Bean Paste."

The stone door shifted with a low groan, revealing the Prefects’ Bathroom. Warm, humid air wafted toward you, carrying the faint scent of lavender and mint.

Sebastian glanced over his shoulder, his grin barely visible against the distortion of his disillusionment charm. “After you."

Rolling your eyes, you stepped inside, the shimmering charm around you fading as you crossed the threshold. The sight that greeted you was nothing short of breathtaking.

The floor was a pristine expanse of white marble, gleaming under the flickering candlelight. In the center of the room was the largest bathtub you had ever seen—more of a pool, really—its surface rippling with sparkling water and mountains of foamy bubbles. Each tap was ornately designed, spouting streams of vivid liquid in every hue, filling the air with gentle splashes and a soft, melodic hum.

“Wow,” you breathed, stepping further inside.

Sebastian let out a low whistle as he followed behind you, his charm fading as the door slid shut with a faint thud. “They really went all out, didn’t they?”

“This is… ridiculous,” you agreed, your eyes sweeping across the room.

“Ridiculously brilliant,” Sebastian corrected, already walking toward the edge of the massive tub. He crouched down, dipping a hand into the water and swirling it. “Warm,” he announced, his tone filled with delight. “And it smells like…” He sniffed the air. “Chamomile?”

"Imagine that," you hummed absently, your fingers brushing over a neatly folded stack of fluffy white towels. They were impossibly soft, like clouds spun into fabric, and embroidered with the Hogwarts crest in gleaming gold thread.

"Ready for that picture?" Sebastian's voice broke through your reverie, pulling you back to the moment. You turned to see him standing in front of the massive tub, his phone in hand, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Right," you said, clearing your throat and stepping closer. "The picture. In and out, before Ominis has a conniption."

Sebastian grinned, holding the phone up and motioning for you to come closer. “Alright, come on then, Chouette. Let’s make it a good one.”

You hesitated, your feet rooted to the marble floor as a flicker of unease crept up your spine. It wasn’t the room, nor the fact you were breaking school rules—it was the sudden awareness of having to stand so close to Sebastian.

The only other time you’d been this close to him was when he'd cradled you on the Quidditch pitch, but that had been different. You’d been injured. This, however, was voluntary. Deliberate.

And the other problem, the one that made your hands twitch nervously at your sides, was the photo itself.

Selfies weren’t your thing. You never took them, not if you could help it. Every angle, every filter—it never seemed to matter. The result was always the same: a version of yourself you weren’t happy with.

But this wasn’t about you, you reminded yourself. It was about sending a message, a little payback for Amelia’s meddling. That thought steeled your resolve, and you stepped closer, your face carefully neutral as you nodded to Sebastian. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

He grinned wider, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement as he adjusted his phone. “You’re acting like this is torture,” he teased.

You opened your mouth to retort, but the words died in your throat when he slid an arm around your shoulders, tugging you closer, his scent enveloping you, sending your pulse into a staccato rhythm. You turned your head slightly, caught off guard by how close his face was to yours.

His grin softened into something quieter. “There,” he said lightly. “You fit perfectly.”

“Fit?” you echoed.

“Mmhm,” he murmured, not looking away from the screen. “Now smile.”

You hesitated for the briefest moment, your nerves buzzing under your skin, but you forced a small, tentative smile onto your face.

Sebastian snapped the photo, glancing down at the screen with a satisfied smirk. “Not bad,” he said, holding the phone out to you.

You took it hesitantly, glancing at the screen while the photo started back.

“Well?” he prompted, his arm still resting lightly on your shoulders.

"It'll work."

Sebastian tilted his head, his grin widening at your less-than-enthusiastic tone. "Just work?"

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, glancing at the photo again. It was a good picture—the vibrant light from the enchanted taps shimmered in the background, casting soft, colorful hues over the room. And Sebastian… well, he looked as effortlessly charming as ever, his grin confident and his posture relaxed.

“I suppose it’s not terrible,” you said reluctantly, handing the phone back to him.

“Not terrible?” he repeated incredulously.

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you, shaking your head as you stepped out from under his arm. “Alright, ego. Let’s not get carried away.”

Sebastian chuckled, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “Fine, fine. We’ve got our evidence. Mission accomplished.”

“Good,” you replied, your voice firm but your lips twitching with a small smile. “Now let’s get out of here before—”

“Before what?” he interrupted, his smirk taking on a mischievous edge.

You froze, narrowing your eyes at him. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he asked, feigning innocence as he wandered closer to the edge of the tub.

“Sebastian,” you warned.

He crouched beside one of the taps, twisting it experimentally. A stream of water cascaded into the pool, the scent chamomile wafting into the air. He let out an appreciative whistle, looking over his shoulder at you. “This is incredible. How do the prefects not spend all their time here?”

You crossed your arms, trying to maintain some semblance of authority despite the growing amusement in your chest. “Because they don't want someone else walking in on them naked?"

Sebastian waved a dismissive hand, his grin widening. “Relax, Chouette. No one’s walking in. Ominis is out there making sure of it.”

You glanced toward the door, nerves buzzing under your skin. “We agreed—picture and out.”

“And we’ve got the picture,” Sebastian said easily, standing and turning to face you fully. “But come on. We’re already here. What’s the harm in taking a moment to enjoy it?”

Your heart skipped a beat, your pulse hammering as Sebastian’s words sank in. Enjoy it?

He stood by the taps, his posture deceptively casual, hands resting in his pockets as though he hadn’t a care in the world. His head was tilted slightly, watching the swirling colors in the water.

“And how, exactly," You started, swallowing hard. "Do you propose we enjoy this, Sebastian?”

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze flicking between the swirling water and back to you. It was then, beneath the lazy nonchalance of his posture, that you noticed it—the faintest flicker of nerves in his dark eyes, the subtle tension in his jaw.

“Well,” he drawled, his voice low and teasing, “it’s a bath, Chouette. You’re supposed to get in.”

Your mouth opened, but no retort came, the weight of his words landing with an almost audible thud. Surely, he wasn’t serious. He couldn’t be serious.

“You’re joking,” you managed.

“Am I?” he countered.

Your pulse quickened, your thoughts scrambling for an out—some way to diffuse the tension without making everything worse. “Sebastian, this is—this is absurd. We’re not—I mean, we can’t—”

But your words faltered as he stepped closer, the gap between you closing in an instant. His gaze held yours, steady and unwavering, and the space around you seemed to shrink, suffused with an unbearable heat.

“Can’t what?” he murmured, his voice dipping just enough to make your breath catch.

You swallowed hard, every nerve in your body alight with the nearness of him. He wasn’t supposed to be this close, wasn’t supposed to look at you like that—like he was daring you to argue, daring you to say no.

“Sebastian, this is ridiculous,” you said, though the words came out softer than you intended.

His head tilted, and the sharp edge of his smirk softened, replaced with something quieter, something almost uncertain. “You’re right,” he said after a beat, his voice quieter now. “It’s ridiculous.”

For a fleeting moment, you thought he might step back, thought the moment might pass with only awkward tension lingering in its wake. But then his hand moved, slow and deliberate, reaching for the hem of his shirt.

Your breath hitched as he pulled it over his head in one fluid motion, the fabric ruffling his already mussed hair before he tossed it carelessly onto the marble floor. And your gaze betrayed you, flicking downward despite every ounce of willpower urging you to look elsewhere. And there it was—the answer to the question that had been gnawing at your mind earlier that day: how far down did those freckles go?

Far enough, apparently.

The low, flickering light danced across his skin, casting warm golds and deep shadows that seemed to map out every detail. Your eyes followed the erratic trail of freckles scattered across his chest, each one daring you to look closer, to trace their path downward. Against your better judgment, you followed them, your gaze skimming over the expanse of his abdomen and the faint line of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his trousers.

He wasn’t chiseled—not in the way the glossy covers of Witch Weekly might glamorize—but there was an undeniable strength in him. The kind born of long hours on a broomstick and reckless dives on the Quidditch pitch. His muscles were firm but not overwhelming, softened slightly by what you could only imagine were too many late-night snacks and Chocolate Frogs.

Your eyes flicked upward again, tracing the broad set of his shoulders and the cut of his collarbone. His arms, exposed now, spoke of strength; the kind built from years of slamming Bludgers and an inclination to be recklessly heroic. There was a startling vulnerability in seeing him like this, and you hated yourself for noticing how intimate it felt, standing there, staring like you were memorizing every inch of him.

“Y-you—this is—” you stammered, the words stumbling out before you could catch them.

“...Not what you were expecting?” he asked, his voice quiet and tinged with something soft.

“No!” you blurted, too quickly. “I mean, yes—I mean—”

The quiet chuckle of satisfaction that escaped him sent a shiver racing down your spine. “Well, Chouette?” he murmured, his hand moving to the button of his trousers. The faint click of the fastener made your breath hitch. “Are you in, or are you out?”

His words hung in the air, deceptively simple but laden with challenge, daring you to make a choice.

In truth, you had never undressed in front of a man before—not once. Not even close. And if you’d ever dared to think about it, it never happened in a luxurious, gilded bathroom under the flickering glow of enchanted taps. And it certainly wasn’t supposed to involve the stubborn, aggravating, insufferably smug Sebastian Sallow, who had spent the better part of your shared acquaintance making your blood boil.

In your mind, there at least would’ve been a bed.

But here you were.

Your eyes darted to his hands as they worked the trousers down his hips. He stepped out of them, unhurried and completely unaware of how tightly wound you were. Left in just his briefs, his bare feet planted on the marble, he tilted his head to meet your eyes, and for a moment, all you could do was stare.

Because fuck he looked good. Far, far too good..

He stepped closer to the edge of the tub, his dark eyes flicking to the water and then back to you. “Well?” he prompted. "What's it gonna be?"

Your mind raced, caught between logic and reckless abandon. The reasonable part of you screamed to stop this madness, to make some excuse and walk out the door with your dignity intact. But the impulsive part of you wanted this. Wanted to follow him. Wanted to see where this would go.

You swallowed hard, your hands twitching nervously at your sides. Sebastian was already stepping into the tub, the warm water lapping at his calves as he lowered himself with a sigh.

And the reckless part of you won.

“Turn around,” you blurted.

Sebastian blinked. "But you're just going to get in—"

“I know,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m not…” You trailed off, heat crawling up your neck as you struggled to find the words. “Just turn around, alright?”

“Alright, alright,” Sebastian sighed, lifting his hands in mock surrender as he turned his back to you. His broad shoulders cut through the swirling steam, the damp curls at the nape of his neck clinging stubbornly to his skin. “I’m not looking. Promise.”

You stared at his freckled back, still grappling with the absurdity of the situation.

Here you were, standing in one of the most exclusive spots in Hogwarts, preparing to strip down in front of the boy who had been, until recently, your most consistent source of irritation. A boy who, despite all your attempts to shove him out of your mind, had somehow managed to worm his way under your skin and stay there.

But this wasn’t some romantic fairy tale, and you weren’t the kind of girl who fit neatly into the narrative of a moment like this—least of all with someone like him. You weren’t the girl boys whispered about in corridors, the one they scribbled secret notes about in the margins of their textbooks. And that truth clung to you like a second skin.

Your hands twitched at your sides, your gaze dropping to your reflection in the slick marble floor. The shape of your body, still hidden beneath layers of fabric, loomed heavy in your mind. Curvy, soft, with thighs that brushed and hips that flared wide. Your waist wasn’t sharp or narrow, your chest more of a challenge than an asset when it came to robes and fitted blouses. And Merlin, wasn’t it just your luck that Sebastian seemed to have a penchant for girls who looked like they might float away in a strong breeze?

You weren’t them. You’d never be them.

And yet, you thought, taking a shaky breath, here I am.

Your fingers hovered at the hem of your shirt, the fabric clinging to your grip as if sensing your hesitation. The chorus of insecurities in your head grew louder, urging you to stop, to turn around, to walk away before you made a fool of yourself.

But then, your gaze drifted back to him. The way he stood there, his posture relaxed and unhurried, no trace of impatience in the line of his shoulders. His head tilted slightly as he waited, his silhouette softened by the steam. There was no mockery, no teasing. Just quiet, easy patience.

Somehow, that gave you the courage to move.

With trembling fingers, you tugged your shirt over your head, letting it fall to the floor with a soft rustle. The humid air kissed your bare skin, warm and comforting, but your chest tightened all the same. Your skirt was next, slipping over your hips and pooling at your feet as you stepped out of it carefully. Shoes and socks followed, and you stood there for a moment, rooted to the spot as you caught sight of your reflection again. Every curve, every dip, every mark laid bare in the polished floor.

And then, as if sensing the weight of your thoughts, Sebastian spoke. “You doing alright back there?” His voice was low, quiet, devoid of its usual sharp-edged humor.

You swallowed hard, forcing the lump in your throat down. “Yeah,” you managed, your voice softer than you expected. “I’m fine.”

With a deep breath, you stepped toward the edge of the tub, the steam rising to wrap around you. The water greeted you like an old friend, warm and gentle as you slid in, the tension in your muscles easing with every passing second.

Sebastian shifted slightly, glancing over his shoulder. “Can I—?”

“Yeah,” you murmured, your arms instinctively crossing over your chest as you sank a little deeper into the water.

He turned fully, his dark eyes meeting yours across the shimmering surface. For a moment, he just looked at you, his expression soft and unreadable. And then he smiled—gentle, without a hint of mockery. “See? Not so bad.”

“Not so bad,” you echoed, though your body still felt rigid, every nerve in your body on edge.

Sebastian's his gaze lingered on you for a moment before he leaned back against the wall of the tub, resting his arms along the tile edge. "So," he said lightly. "what was the first album you ever bought?"

You blinked. "What?"

"First album," he repeated, his tone casual but his dark eyes glinting with curiosity. "You know, the first one you saved up for, or begged someone to buy for you. Everyone’s got one."

You hesitated, the question momentarily distracting you from your nerves. “I think it was… The Black Parade,” you admitted. “I was, like, eleven. And I thought I was so edgy for listening to it.”

Sebastian’s grin widened, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. “Classic choice. Let me guess—there was a phase where you were convinced you’d start a band?”

You laughed softly. “I did. But I didn't have any musical friends to form the band with, so that dream died pretty quickly.”

Sebastian chuckled. “You should’ve seen me. I begged my parents for a guitar after I heard Arctic Monkeys for the first time. Spent weeks plucking at it, trying to learn Suck It And See until my sister begged me to stop.”

That surprised you. “You can play?”

“Barely,” he admitted, his grin turning sheepish. “But I tried. For like… three months. Then I got distracted by Quidditch and never picked it up again." He paused for a moment, considering you before asking, “What about your first concert?”

You smiled faintly, the memory sparking a warm flicker of nostalgia. “Paramore,” you said, watching as recognition lit up his expression. “It was incredible. But I was terrified the whole time—I was so sure someone in the pit was going to knock me over.”

Sebastian laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Ah, the pit. A rite of passage for every true fan. If you’re not worried about getting trampled, are you even at a proper concert?”

You couldn’t help but laugh along with him. “What about you?” you asked, your curiosity bubbling to the surface. “What was your first?”

Sebastian paused, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully before a grin tugged at his lips. “The 1975,” he said, a touch of pride in his voice. “I had to practically beg my uncle to let me go. He didn’t really get it, and we had to go to Gringotts to exchange Galleons for Muggle money.” He shook his head, chuckling softly. “It was a disaster. He made a scene because he couldn’t figure out the conversion rate and kept insisting the goblins were trying to swindle him.”

You snorted, trying to picture a younger Sebastian enduring that particular ordeal. “Merlin, that sounds mortifying.”

“Oh, it was,” he agreed, his grin widening. “But worth it. They played Sex, and I swear, I ascended. I mean, it’s The 1975.”

“Of course you did,” you teased, the familiar banter easing the tension that had been weighing on your shoulders. “Tumblr girl energy in full force.”

Sebastian leaned back, his grin widening as he launched into another story. “Alright, this one’s a classic,” he began, his dark eyes glinting with mischief. “Third year, I found this ancient Muggle gramophone in a junk shop in Hogsmeade. It was completely wrecked—dusty, scratched, the works—but I thought, I can fix this. No problem.”

You raised an eyebrow, already skeptical. “Fix it? Or enchant it into some kind of unholy artifact?”

“I’ll have you know, I intended to make it better,” he insisted. “Charmed it so it would play music without needing vinyls. For about an hour, it worked like a dream. Muggle music in the common room? Instant legend.”

“Oh, so you were the main character of your own imaginary movie, were you?" You laughed, picturing third-year Sebastian in your mind. "I bet you were staring out the window dramatically, The Smiths playing in the background.”

Sebastian’s grin widened, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Hell yes, I was. There Is A Light That Never Goes Out was like, my anthem back then."

"Naturally," You smirked. "But this wouldn't be a story if that's all there was to it. I'm assuming your stellar success didn't last very long?"

“Oh, it lasted,” Sebastian laughed. “That’s the problem—it lasted too much. No one could figure out how to make it stop. Not me, not Ominis, not even the bloody prefects. For three weeks straight, it played Do I Wanna Know every time someone walked within ten feet of it.”

You barked a laugh, the mental image of a bewitched gramophone tormenting the entire Slytherin common room with relentless indie rock too much to handle. “Three weeks? How did no one smash it?”

“Because I might’ve also charmed it to be indestructible,” Sebastian admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “In hindsight, not my best idea.”

You wheezed. “Oh my God. So what finally happened?”

“Professor Weasley came down to the common room after someone snuck her an anonymous note,” he said, rolling his eyes. “She undid the charm in about five seconds and confiscated the gramophone. Gave me three evenings of scrubbing cauldrons.”

“But she kept the gramophone,” you guessed, still grinning.

“Oh, absolutely. Word is, it’s still in her office.”

The laughter between you lingered, warm and easy. “And Ominis,” he continued, his grin widening, “refused to come into the common room for the entire time it was going on. Slept in the bloody Undercroft and kept muttering something about my ‘infernal racket.’ I mean, Do I Wanna Know isn’t even close to the worst Arctic Monkeys track!"

You smirked, shaking your head as you imagined Ominis, perpetually unimpressed, glaring in the direction of the offending gramophone.

“I can’t believe he’s still friends with you.”

Sebastian shrugged, his grin softening into something playful. “He’s a glutton for punishment. Besides, I grow on people.”

“Like a fungus,” you quipped, unable to resist.

Sebastian laughed, the sound rich and unguarded, as his damp hair fell into his eyes. He reached up to push it back, the casual motion doing little to tame the unruly strands, and for a moment, you found yourself watching him—not just listening to his words but studying the way his grin lingered, the way his shoulders shook slightly with each laugh, the way he looked so... alive.

It wasn’t until you caught yourself leaning in slightly, captivated by the ease of his movements, that you realized—without quite meaning to—that the space between you had shrunk. The massive tub, which had initially felt so vast and intimidating, now seemed impossibly small. The warm water rippled softly between you, and when you glanced up, you found Sebastian watching you, his expression softer now, the teasing edge replaced with something quieter.

He hesitated, his gaze dipping briefly to the water before meeting yours again. “You know,” he began slowly, his voice carrying a careful, almost hesitant note, “I think this might be the most civil conversation we’ve ever had. At least, aside from you comparing me to fungus.”

The corner of your mouth twitched despite yourself. “That was a perfectly accurate metaphor.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” he said, his grin widening just a fraction. “But you have to admit, it wasn’t exactly kind.”

"That's rich," you countered, though your tone was more playful than accusatory. “You've spent quite a bit of time trying to drive me up the wall this year.”

“Fair,” he conceded, his dark eyes glinting with something like amusement. “But I’ve improved. Haven’t I?”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider. “Debatable.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. There was a pause, the water lapping gently against the marble edges of the tub as the conversation settled.

Then, more quietly, he added, “But seriously. This… feels different.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. “Different how?”

He hesitated, his gaze dipping briefly to the water before returning to yours. “I don’t know. Like… maybe you don’t hate me as much anymore.”

You felt a faint heat rise to your cheeks, your defenses instinctively kicking in. “I never hated you.”

“Didn’t you?” he asked, his grin softening into something more tentative, almost self-conscious. “Because it kind of felt like you did.”

Your lips pressed together, the heat in your cheeks intensifying as you averted your gaze. “I didn’t hate you.”

His grin widened slightly, though there was a flicker of uncertainty in his expression. “Could’ve fooled me."

You sighed heavily, your gaze dropping to the water as you tried to gather your thoughts. “I wanted to hate you,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely audible over the soft lapping of the water. “Believe me, I tried.”

“But you didn’t?”

“No,” you sighed, shaking your head. “Even when I wanted to throttle you. Even when you valued my dignity at fifty bloody galleons.”

His entire posture changed in an instant. He straightened, his grin vanishing completely, replaced by an expression of dark regret. “That’s not—” he began, his voice rough. “That was stupid, and cruel, and—Merlin, I’m sorry. I know I’ve told you before, but I’ll say it a thousand times if I have to. I was an idiot.”

You looked up at him, your heart giving a faint, painful ache at the sincerity etched across his face. His dark eyes, so often alight with mischief, were instead shadowed with guilt. He meant it—you could see that—but the walls you’d built didn’t crumble so easily.

You sighed, stepping back slightly, the warm water swirling softly around you as if trying to draw you forward again.

"Sebastian," you started, your voice quieter than you intended. “Is this… Is that what all of this has been about? Catching me at Quidditch? Defending me to Leander? To Amelia? Going along with this ridiculous idea sneak in here… Is it just to make yourself feel better?”

For a moment, you saw a flicker of hurt cross his face. His brows drew together, his lips parting slightly, but then he shook his head, his expression settling into something more earnest.

“No,” he said firmly, his voice steady despite the vulnerability behind it. “No, it’s not about me. It’s because I care about you.”

You blinked, your breath catching in your throat at his words, but he didn’t stop.

“Of course I’m sorry,” he went on, his voice softer now but no less resolute. “And of course I want to make it up to you. But it’s not because I’m trying to ease my own guilt. It’s because I hate knowing I hurt you. I hate that I made you feel the way you did. I want to make things right, not for me, but for you."

He sighed heavily, the water cascading off his frame as straightened to his full height. Droplets clung to his skin, trailing down his broad shoulders and strong frame, his damp hair still sticking stubbornly to his forehead.

“And I’ve tried,” he continued quietly, his voice tinged with frustration. “Merlin knows I’ve tried to respect your space like you asked, but it’s been… it’s been difficult.” His hand ran through his damp hair, his shoulders sagging slightly as if admitting this had cost him something. “Because every time I see you, I just want to fix it. But I also don't want to push you away even more.”

Your chest tightened, the sincerity in his voice unmistakable. For all the times you’d doubted him, for all the walls you’d put up to keep him at a distance, there was no denying now that Sebastian meant what he was saying. And the guilt began to creep in, slow and heavy, settling like a stone in your stomach.

After all, it had been you who’d asked for the space between you. You’d been the one to draw that line, even though, as of late, you weren’t entirely sure it was what you’d wanted.

The ache in your chest certainly told you otherwise.

You looked away, biting the inside of your cheek as you tried to gather your thoughts. “I…” you started, faltering as the words caught in your throat. Your hands shifted awkwardly under the water, and you forced yourself to continue. “I think—I think I owe you an apology, too.”

He blinked, his brows knitting slightly in confusion. “For what?”

“For what I said in the library a couple of weeks ago,” you admitted, a faint flush creeping up your neck as the memory resurfaced. “About the cheerleaders. About you enjoying all the attention.”

Realization dawned on his face, his lips parting slightly as he remembered the sharp words you’d thrown at him.

“It wasn’t fair,” you said, your voice thick with regret. “It wasn’t fair of me to insist you must feel a certain way about it, especially when you were denying it. I didn’t believe you because I was… I don’t know, frustrated? Jealous?” The admission burned as it left your lips, but it felt good to let it out. "But I shouldn’t have made those assumptions about you, and I’m sorry.”

He was quiet for a moment, his expression softening as he took in your words. Then, to your surprise, a small, almost rueful smile tugged at his lips. “You were jealous?” he asked, his tone lighter now, like he couldn’t quite believe it.

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Don’t make me regret this, Sebastian.”

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and unguarded, and when you peeked through your fingers, you saw him looking at you—not with teasing or triumph, but with something much gentler. “I’m not trying to make you regret it,” he said quietly. “I just… I didn’t think you cared enough to be jealous.”

You dropped your hands, giving him a flat look. “That’s a ridiculous thing to say, and you know it.”

“Is it?” he asked, his voice dipping slightly, his dark eyes searching yours. "I didn't think you cared enough."

You laughed softly, the sound carrying a self-deprecating edge as you shook your head. “Of course I care,” you admitted, your voice quiet but tinged with exasperation—mostly at yourself. “I’m only human. As much as I like to pretend I don’t care about those things, of course it bothers me.”

You hesitated, your gaze dipping to the rippling water as you mulled over your next words. “It felt like confirmation, you know? That I’d never… I’d never be able to compete with girls like them.”

Your voice faltered slightly at the end, and you hated the way it made you feel so exposed, so vulnerable. You forced yourself to look at him again, half expecting some teasing remark or deflection, but Sebastian’s expression was far from amused. His dark eyes softened, though there was a shadow behind them, a flicker of something almost angry.

He didn’t press, though.

Instead, he exhaled softly, his voice low and steady. “Well... for what it’s worth, I forgive you,” he said. “Not that there’s much to forgive—I deserved the cold shoulder anyway.” The corner of his mouth quirked up in a faint, humorless smile. “Merlin knows I earned it.”

You watched him for a moment, the vulnerability in his voice mirroring your own. The tension in your chest eased slightly, and before you could overthink it, the words slipped out.

“I forgive you, too."

His head snapped up, his eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, he seemed caught off guard, as though he hadn’t dared to hope for those words. “You… you do?”

You nodded, though your gaze remained fixed on the water. “Yeah. I think I forgave you a while ago. I... I guess I just didn’t realize it until now.”

Sebastian exhaled slowly, the sound barely audible over the soft ripple of the water. His shoulders sagged slightly, tension draining from him as relief flickered across his face. For a moment, his eyes searched yours, something unreadable lingering there. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as though he were bracing himself for what came next.

“...Does that mean you believe me now, too?” he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant.

You blinked at him, your brow furrowing in confusion. “Believe you about what?”

Sebastian hesitated, running a hand through his hair. The motion was deliberate but unsteady, and when his gaze flicked away from yours, it felt like he was trying to steel himself for something difficult. “About... what I said on the Astronomy Tower,” he murmured.

Your breath hitched, the memory rushing back unbidden—the two of you sitting under the open night sky, the wind tugging at your shirts, the faint chill biting at your skin. His words hanging in the air between you.

I like you.

You hadn’t let him finish that night. You’d walked away before he could say more, before he could unravel the tangle of emotions that had already begun to overwhelm you. And now, with him standing so close, his brown eyes locking onto yours, it felt like the weight of that unfinished moment was pressing down on both of you.

“I…” You trailed off, your chest tightening as you tried to find the right words. “Sebastian, I don’t—”

“I meant it,” he interrupted softly, his voice steady now, firm in a way that left no room for doubt. His gaze locked onto yours, unwavering and resolute, as though he needed you to hear him this time.

The words hung heavily in the air, their weight settling deep in your chest. For a moment, all you could do was stare at him, your breath caught somewhere between disbelief and something you weren’t ready to name.

“Sebastian…” you began, your voice trembling as you fumbled for a response. “I… Look, I—”

But before the words could fully form, the stillness shattered. The faint, telltale creak of the door sliding open echoed through the room, cutting through the warmth and quiet like a blade.

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[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Any enemies to lovers future AU Sterek fics? At first they annoy each other just as much as they used to, but ofc that changes. Thanks, ur awesome

Oh definitely.

magical protection at the hands of a snarky spark by sychia_rin

(1? I 341 I General)

Stiles stormed his way through the room. The ward he literally just made felt broken.

He eyed the tall man standing on the balcony as he turned to face him, he quirked up an eyebrow looking as shocked as that grumpy face could get him. He must be some newbie guard.

"I just put that ward there shitface. Shoo," Stiles motioned for him to move. The guard stood in place, watching Stiles as he stomped closer.

....

Where an overworked Stiles works for the (royalish?) Hale family doing magical tasks. Vaguely Merlin inspired if you squint.

royal blue fits better with Derek by 08JustLizeth80

(1/1 I 3,129 I Mature)

Where Derek Hale is the prince of England and Stiles is the (extremely) ineloquent and mouthy first son of the United States.

Or

Where Stiles thinks royalty is such an archaic concept it shouldn’t even exist (which has nothing to do with his inadequate and totally not existing crush on the prince).

Knot Your Typical College Romance by stilesanderek (minxxx)

(1/1 I 51,546 I Explicit)

In which Stiles loves studying at Beacon Hills Supernatural University and even though he loves his group of friends, he just wishes that Derek wasn't included in it. Stiles hates the guy fiercely, and he knows it's completely mutual, and what he also knows it's completely mutual is the hate boner they both have going on for each other. What happens after they finally hookup after years of tension, though, isn't something Stiles ever signed up for.

“Shut the fuck up, Stilinski,” Derek hisses, their foreheads less than half a dozen of inches apart.

“Oh yeah, big guy?” Stiles says, stuffing his chest in defiance, licking his mouth once and then finally saying, “Make me.”

all you have is your fire by hansuckss

(7/? I 20,624 I Mature)

“Why wouldn’t I? I mean, if it’s a matter of saving someone’s life. You know,” Derek smirked. “There are lots of things I can do for an hour.”

Everyone knows they can count on Stiles Stilinski, the most composed paramedic at the fire station, and he takes pride in his work. At least until a new firefighter shows up. The newest firefighter-in-training, Derek Hale, is a former football player with a huge hero complex and limitless energy. And until fate brings them together, Stiles can put up with the man's presence. Sparks fly—not in a positive way. The fact that Derek is hotter than the fires he puts out and annoyingly charming doesn't help.

Help Wanted (But Not Really) by reillyblack

(9/9 I 26,096 I Mature)

"Stiles, I'll clear up your confusion about the position. Derek here needs someone to live with him. He's a difficult person to live with, so I won't sugarcoat that. But his responsibilities at the company right now make it impossible for him to actually take care of himself and his home. That would be your job," Laura explained.

Both Stiles and Derek objected at the same time.

Five Times Detective Stilinski and Fire Captain Hale Had Sex In Public, and One Time They Did It In A Bed by bleep0bleep

(7/7 I 32,853 I Explicit)

"Did you say--" Stiles starts.

"What?" Derek growls.

"We're not a couple!" they both retort in unison.

"We're not together," Stiles insists.

Lydia coughs pointedly. "An incident report filed by 87th Precinct Captain Erica Reyes. March twenty-fifth, eight p.m. Came back to the precinct to grab my coat, only to hear Stilinski banging his new boyfriend in the holding cell."

Words Cannot Espresso How Much You Bean to Me by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

(1/1 I 68,366 I Teen)

“You’re late,” Derek informed him coldly, jaw clenched. He barely even moved his mouth to speak. This guy was seriously scary.

And because Stiles was suicidal, he said, “No, I’m Stiles.”

The look he got could’ve curdled milk. Stiles even noticed that Derek’s muscles were tensing, arms bulging even more and wow this guy was scary and hot but mostly scary holy shit.

“You’re not funny,” Derek informed him coldly.

Stiles shrugged. “I think that’s a matter of opinion.”

Like it or Not by Halevetica

(56/56 I 80,902 I Not Rated)

Stiles works as the editorial assistant at Vogue. He loves everything about his job except for his boss, Derek Hale. Derek Hale is the worst and Stiles hates him. But when Derek drags him to the yearly awards dinner within the company, he is forced to play boyfriend for the night to make Derek's ex jealous. Things couldn't get much worse...or so Stiles thought.

(Fuck you they said) As they threw their threads from their wedding bed by dearericbittle (dutchmoxie)

(9/9 I 96,199 I Mature)

First Son Stiles Stilinski just accidentally caused an international incident. And apparently the only way to save human-werewolf relations is to marry him off to Prince Derek of Triskele. Stiles is going to need all of his acting skills to make the marriage look real, because the Prince is kind of a fucking asshole.

Enemy Lines by qhuinn (tekla)

(17/17 I 149,179 I Explicit)

This is the story of werewolf Derek Hale and human Stiles Stilinski: two people who grew up in the same town but completely different worlds, their realities split by the war between men and wolves.

Years later when Derek returns to Beacon Hills, he does it as Alpha of a military pack on a mission to capture those responsible for the region’s resistance. With his main objective, Sheriff Stilinski, out of sight, he settles for the next best thing: his son, Stiles.

Neither of them suspects they’ll need to trust each other if they want to make it out this alive.

The Final Pack by Kedreeva

(33/33 I 428,148 I Mature)

Humankind is fighting its way back from near extinction against the supernatural beings that fed upon the remaining humans in the aftermath of the 2012 apocalypse. On the front lines, Stiles' best friend gets bitten by a werewolf and Stiles must strike a bargain with wolves in order to save him.

[emmawithtwoms]

Icicle

@wolfstarmicrofic December 6th -486 words

“You know, I really like this new mustache phase you’re going through.” 

Remus said while appreciating his husband’s form coming out of the bathroom.

“Really, moons? Do mustaches do it for you?” 

Sirius grinned while caressing his freshly shaved chin. Reaching his 30’s, the dog animagus decided it was time to try to grow some mustaches, experimenting with style. 

Let's just say that Remus really appreciated the whole Motorbike, leather jacket, long hair, black moustache style. 

“Yeah, it really does. It gives you that kind of cool, suburban dad who mowns loans and shows up at his daughter’s princess tea parties.” 

Remus hid his smile in his cup of tea, boiling hot to defy the January scottish cold. 

“Huh, I would actually love to attend a princess tea party, but only if you’ll be the evil dragon.”

Sirius reached his husband and kissed him on the forehead. 

“I might compromise at being the noble steed.” 

Remus tilted his head up to accept the affection given by his lover, and Sirius stepped towards the porch to go smoke his morning cigarette. 

They settled in their calm routine, enjoying the silence in their cozy cottage surrounded by snow. Remus was lazily scurrying through the Prophet, deliberately leaving the crosswords undone for Sirius to complete, when Sirius came back inside, shutting the glass door. 

“It’s deadly cold out there, I think I might have just frozen my balls off.” 

“That could be your signal to quit, you should get back to trying before being approved for the adopt-” 

Remus stopped himself the second he looked at his husband’s face, and a bark of laughter overcame him. Sirius just looked at him dumbfounded.

“What’s so funny? Do I have something on my face?” 

“Some- Something on your face? Merlin, Sirius, did you dry your face after shaving?” 

Remus was still shaking with laughter, barely able to spew a few words out. 

“Did I? Yeah, of course I did. The hell’s gotten into you Moons?” 

“You- You have Icicles hanging from your mustaches!”

Remus got lost into another fit of laughter, while his husband ran to the closest mirror, to then release his characteristic bark of laughter. 

“Oh come on! Stop laughing, how old are you, twelve?” 

But Moony couldn’t take him all that seriously, since he said that in between giggles, so he just laughed more. 

At his husband's lack of respect for his suffering mustaches, Sirius took one of the icicles and threw it at his face, watching the little ice bullet fall in Remus’ morning tea. 

“Oi! That was my cuppa, you’ve ruined it!” Moony exclaimed in offence.

“Well, that’s what you get for laughing at the expense of your faithful partner, you traitorous wizard.” 

 But Sirius was already at the table with a new cup of boiling hot tea for his lover, who was simultaneously handing him the paper, open on the crosswords page, and a pen. 

A.N: I love a nice suburban dad Sirius sporting mustaches

[bradleysass]

Holiday Movies - @noblehouseofgay - word count: 591 - 25 Days of Jegumas

James Potter was sprawled out on the plush leather sofa in the Potter family den, a bowl of popcorn perched precariously on his lap. The fire crackled warmly in the hearth, casting a flickering glow across the room. The only thing that disrupted the cozy scene was the sound of James sniffing loudly, wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his oversized jumper.

“What in Merlin’s name are you doing?” came a smooth, drawling voice from the doorway. Regulus Black leaned casually against the doorframe, his arms crossed, his expression somewhere between amused and incredulous.

James didn’t answer immediately. He was too busy staring at the television screen, where two star-crossed lovers were having a dramatic reunion in the middle of a snowstorm. He let out a loud, shuddering sob and shoveled another handful of popcorn into his mouth.

Regulus sighed, stepping into the room. He looked utterly out of place in his pressed slacks and expensive cashmere sweater, a stark contrast to James’s rumpled, tear-stained appearance. “Is this what you do with your free time? Watch overly sentimental Muggle films and cry into your snacks?”

James turned to him, his hazel eyes red-rimmed and glistening. “You don’t get it, Reggie,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “It’s beautiful. They’ve been in love since they were kids, but fate kept tearing them apart, and now—now they’re finally together again!” His voice broke on the last word, and he buried his face in a pillow, letting out another muffled sob.

Regulus stared at him for a long moment, his lips twitching. “Are you seriously crying over A Snowy Reunion? This is the most predictable nonsense I’ve ever seen.”

James sat up abruptly, glaring at him. “Predictable? Did you not see the part where he gave her his grandmother’s necklace? Or when she—” His voice cracked again. “—she ran to the train station in the snow to stop him from leaving?”

Regulus arched a single, elegant brow. “Yes, and I also saw the part where they reconciled in exactly the way every Hallmark movie ever has. It’s hardly revolutionary.”

“Spoken like someone who’s never felt a true, gut-wrenching love story,” James shot back, folding his arms petulantly. He sniffed, but there was a fire in his eyes now that replaced some of the earlier despair. “Not all of us have hearts made of stone, you know.”

Regulus rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smirk. “For your information, I’m capable of appreciating romance. I simply prefer something with a bit more… depth.” He moved to sit beside James, the corners of his mouth still quirked in amusement. “But by all means, enlighten me. What’s so special about this?”

James hesitated, caught between wanting to defend his beloved movie and the thrill of having Regulus sit so close to him. He grabbed the remote and rewound the scene to the beginning of the snowstorm. “Fine. Watch this, and tell me it doesn’t make you feel something.”

Regulus sighed dramatically but leaned back against the sofa, his shoulder brushing against James’s. “I’ll watch it, Potter. But if I start crying like you, we’re both blaming the popcorn.”

“Deal,” James said, grinning despite himself.

As the movie played on, James kept sneaking glances at Regulus, his heart skipping every time he saw the faintest flicker of emotion on his usually stoic face. Maybe the movie wasn’t the only love story happening tonight.

And when Regulus reached over to steal a handful of popcorn, their hands brushed for just a second longer than necessary.

[marcyiyi]

,,Should I wear the red or the black one? I mean, I’ll look like I’m going to a funeral in the black, but isn’t the red a bit too much?” ,,Sirius, sweetheart, both of them are too much. For Merlin’s sake, you don’t need to wear a tie for my mam.” Remus moved to stand behind his boyfriend in front of the mirror, where he was getting ready. ,,Okay then, it’s just that the outfit doesn’t even look good without it.” Sirius whined, turning to their closet. ,,Without the tie, it’s not complete, with it, it’s too formal, I could try a different shirt, but black with black is funeral, black with red is slutty, the others I have are patterned, so too dégagé, I could borrow yours, except that won’t fit me and I’ll look like a scarecrow and-“ he got cut off with Remus’ bear hug from behind. ,,Hey, cariad*. Let’s take a step back.” he turned the nervous man around and brushed his cheek with one hand, the other still keeping him close by the waist. ,,I noticed you’re different today. You’ve put your hair up, into a neat bun, no less. You only do that when you’re too mad to deal with it and you hate when someone sees you like that.” Remus said, hand moving to said neat bun, then dropping lower to Sirius’ ears. ,,You’ve got no earrings on, though you could wear all of your collection with this emmental of an earlobe.” he continued, kissing the bare place, where a sun-shaped jewel normally was. ,,And where’s your makeup? Did your eyeliner dry out? Did you lose your mascara?” he mumbled in a concerned tone. ,,N-no, I just, uhm, didn’t feel like any of that today?” was the answer. ,,Didn’t feel like it? Sweetheart, I noticed you only have our ring on, no painted nails. You’re wearing a damn white shirt with suit paints and planned on adding a tie. You have dress shoes and a coat ready in the hall instead of the heavy combat boots with charms on them and that hot, hot leather jacket. You’re just so not you.” Remus insisted, his eyebrows knitted and gaze moving across his boyfriend’s face. ,,Well I am meeting your mother today, if you forgot.” Sirius snapped. ,,Yeah, is that what brought this on?” Remus asked, voice still calm and hands cupping his lover’s face now. ,,Obviously. I want to make a good first impression.” Sirius admitted. ,,And you think the only way to do that is by censoring your personality and style?” ,,I can’t exactly show up in a mini skirt and a crop top, can I?” he still sounded angry. ,,I’m not asking you to do that.” The taller man chuckled. ,,But you don’t need to hide who you are. My mam loves everything I tell her about you and is always asking how you are, which muggle are you listening to and when are you gonna come over.” he continued more seriously. ,,Really?” Sirius’ eyes widened. ,,Yes, cariad. After she got over not having grand children to spoil, she’s happy that we’re happy. She’s not your mother, she won’t judge you, even with eyeliner, or rings, or a patterned shirt. Hell, the best you could wear is my Beatles t-shirt, she loves them.” Remus smiled and was relieved to see the same on his boyfriend’s face. He gave himself a mental pat on the back for getting Sirius out of his head. He now turned back to the closet and Remus could see the wheels turning, trying to come up with a better outfit. ,,And cariad, don’t you dare pull some hide and seek crap when we’re there. Don’t hide from mam behind that Black mask. She’d know and she’d try to get the real you and believe me, you’d have to put on a hell of a performance, you’d flake out from exhaustion in the middle of dinner. I know she’ll adore you, just like I do.” he assured his no longer freaking out boyfriend and pressed a kiss to his forehead. ,,Oh, Merlin please no, I’d be very disturbed.” Sirius laughed. ,,Hey, that’s my mam you’re talking about.”

@wolfstarmicrofic dec. 14, flake

*cariad=welsh endearment

[thesongistheriver]

20 questions: fanfic writers edition

Thank's @guiltyscarlet for the tag <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 16

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 536,304

3. What fandoms do you write for? BBC Merlin

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Feel It In My Fists | Merthur, magic reveal, getting together (rated E)

One Hundred Forty-Three Point Five Degrees | Merthur, modern AU, literature professor, maths professor, enemies to lovers (rated M)

Maybe Probably Definitely | Merthur (are you seeing a pattern? LOL), modern AU, humor, smut, fluff, seriously so fluffy (rated E)

Everything I've Dreamed About Is Coming On | Merthur, social media/Discord AU, getting together, fandom/geek references (rated E)

Just to Feel with You | Merthur, roommates, asexual character, demisexual character, queer themes (rated T)

5. Do you respond to comments? I try to get to them all!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Hahahahahaha. I don't write angsty endings.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Pretty much all of them? Although probably my series, Out of Yourself Into a Delirious Place is the happiest because it's like happy endings all around (you get a happy ending! you get a happy ending! and you get a happy ending!) -- merthur, gwencelot, perwaine, mithleon, morgdred, even hunith ends up with a date

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not a lot (hope it stays that way!)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yeeeeeah that's my jam. Merthur smut galore. I guess you might consider it vanilla, as I don't really write BDSM or any specific kinks.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? Nope

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Don't think so.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? No, but I'm more than open to it!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Nope!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? If you haven't fathomed me out by now (😂) it's Merthur.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? don't have one

16. What are your writing strengths? I like writing banter and also including Easter eggs in my fics.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Probably descriptions. And I can occasionally get carried away with stage directions, although I try to catch that when editing.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I've written a little bit (Merlin in my musician/actor series speaks French fluently, and I've also done some Welsh dialogue). I put the translations in the end notes though, as I don't want it to be incomprehensible to anyone, and I'm not skilled enough at HTML to do the mouseover text thing.

19. First fandom you wrote for? BBC Merlin (that's right, folks, I'm a one-and-done fandom writer)

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? This is like asking me to choose a fave child. I don't think I can do it!

no pressure tags <3 : @citharaposts @mayapleiades @ravenwilds @eachpeachpearplume

[aftercamlann]

ACBB 10th Anniversary Recs: Dave

Today's ACBB was recced by Wasp:

Title: Dave Writer: Camelittle Artist: LFB72 Ship(s): Merlin/Arthur Rating: Teen and Up Word Count: 60,354

Summary: Merlin - lover of crunchy fried snacks and secret admirer of his straight flat mate, Arthur - never expected to have a career in comedy. But after trying stand-up on a successful open mic night at university, he finds himself hooked. He and Arthur run a successful late night talk radio show for a while, but Arthur’s father intervenes. After a misunderstanding forces them into conflict, Merlin vows never to see Arthur again, to protect his own soft, pathetic, pining heart. Which would be fine, if the UK comedy circuit weren’t so small. But for some reason, they keep bumping into one another - at comedy festivals, and on radio and TV panel shows - and despite everything, the chemistry that made their radio show so popular in the distant past grows stronger than ever.

Link: FIC: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/After_Camlann_Big_Bang/works/49672912 | ART: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50242543/chapters/126907054

Why Wasp recommends this ACBB: there is romance and pining and idiots in love and standup comedy and IDIOTS and Taskmaster and seriously what more do you need?  There’s still time for you to rec an ACBB fic yourself that you feel deserves some more love. So feel free to send us your rec through our 10th Anniversary Rec form!

[somewhere-in-the-rain]

Hi, if you’re seeing this you probably have an unhealthy obsession with fictional characters. Yeah, me too.

Currently reading: Mile High, Warbreaker

My fandoms (and where I stand on discourse)

The Empyrean: I adore all three books (Iron Flame apologist here) and I support every decision Violet Sorrengail has ever made. If you do not like this series, then this is not the blog for you.

ACOTAR: I am pro Feysand, Inner Circle and Gwynriel. I’m neutral on Nesta.

Crescent City: Bryce is dead to me after HOFAS.

Caraval: Tellalegend are my babies and I will not accept hate.

Also: Throne of Glass, Shatter Me, Red Queen, OUABH, Grishaverse, The Folk of the Air, The Hunger Games, The Inheritance Games, Ali Hazelwood, AGGGTM, His Dark Materials, Divergent, Truly Devious, Powerless, The Song of Achilles, Emily Henry, Mistborn, Taylor Jenkins Reid, The Shepherd King, Crowns of Nyaxia, Boys of Tommen

Taylor Swift, Halsey, Olivia Rodrigo, Bastille, Maisie Peters, Chappell Roan, Hozier, Billie Eilish, Lana Del Rey

Bridgerton, Downton Abbey, Friends, How I Met Your Mother, Brooklyn 99, New Girl, Maxton Hall, The Witcher, Merlin, The Vampire Diaries, ASOUE, Derry Girls, Wednesday, The Office

Marvel, Star Wars, Hamilton

About me

⭒ british ⭒ bisexual ⭒ slytherin ⭒ she/her ⭒ aquarius ⭒ introvert ⭒ reader ⭒ writer ⭒ feminist ⭒ atheist ⭒

I am a lover of toast, Greek tragedies, dogs, and overthinking every situation. My biggest pet peeve is people who think Wuthering Heights is a romance.

I like to write really long posts about tiny details in fantasy books, probably because I took GCSE English Lit too seriously.

Incorrect quotes: @stupidlybookish

Find me on ao3: lostinthehaze

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Mildly interesting posts

The Empyrean as shitposts

Gender equality in the Empyrean series

Overprotective Xaden

Xaden’s letters

Fourth Wing bonus chapter (Xaden POV)

Please feel free to send me random asks; if you’ve been following my blog for a while you will know I love to give my opinion on things.