#andrew larson x reader

[girl-named-matty]

Sharing a bed with the Boys (Amit and Andrew edition 💙)

Sharing a bed with the boys. Tags: Fluff, Sharing a bed, gn!reader, Amit x Reader, Andrew x Reader. (Also barely proofread) Rating: General Audiences. ..

Summary: My Headcanons for sharing a bed with Amit and Andrew!

Amit: 

Was extremely taken aback when you asked him if you two could start sharing a bed. Probably started to sweat to be honest. 

Was very hesitant before eventually giving in. 

Although for the first little while he made it very clear that he had his side of the bed. It wasn’t anything personal, it just made it easier for him. 

But one morning, he woke up with you right up against him but instead of him moving away he found out he actually enjoyed it.

You were honestly confused for the next couple of nights as to why he seemed so cuddly after that. 

But he was an only child with working parents so affection didn’t come naturally. So when he discovered it he loved it. 

Will quite literally sleep in any position with you as long as you guys are touching in some way. 

Literally the cutest boy. ..

Andrew: 

Honestly probably the most casual about it out of all the boys. 

You two have been committed to each other for quite some time, you trust each other, and everything is fine so, why not? 

You two sleep together in this sort of intertwined position. You just like being close to one another and it gives you the best sleep. 

He's a sucker for laying his head on your chest and hearing your heartbeat. It's just so comforting.

Although he doesn’t give me morning-person vibes so have fun getting him out of bed in the morning. 

He probably stays up late studying. But when he’s super tired from it he’s out like a light. 

He also has pretty bad bed-head so that’s always a cute sight to wake up to in the morning. 

And when you’re not there he’s definitely hugging the pillow to his chest. ..

Here you are! Sorry Andrew's was so short this is my first time writing for him but I hope to do more for him in the future. 💙 Taglist: @pufflehuffing, @rypnami, @lucky-cleric, @siren-of-slytherin, @uniyppy. @jeniffler

[cuffmeinblack]

2 for andrew or 8 for leander ehehehehehe

Last Chance

Andrew Larson x f!reader

“Let's ruin ourselves for anyone else.”

Tags: explicit | drug use | sex | admission of feelings

2k words

A/n: Unexpectedly confident Andrew? Sure, why not. I need to stop writing smut when I'm sick. Thank you for the request m'love <3

⤍ Andrew Larson masterlist ⤎

Quite how you found yourself in the boathouse on the last night of term wasn't clear. It had likely been the only unoccupied place in the entire castle grounds. The astronomy tower had been claimed, as had most of the classrooms and even the greenhouses—a flash of ginger and rustling amongst the dittany had you rushing out of there before you saw anything that would require scrubbing from memory. It was cool despite the hot weather, the spray from the lake soaking every inch of the worn planks underfoot that flexed and creaked with every tentative step. None of this mattered, though, once you met Andrew's warm chestnut eyes that seemed to draw you in, quite literally. He was so close, so warm and solid and tempting. Expectation hung thick in the muggy air despite the very innocent request that you'd prefer to find somewhere quiet to talk, away from the raucous parties within the castle.

When Andrew finally broke the silence it was with small talk. “I can't believe it's really over.”

“I know. It's bittersweet, isn't it?”

You pulled a small tin out of your robe pocket, the Honeydukes logo scratched and worn from years of use. Andrew watched, likely expecting an offer of a sherbet, but inside lay a healthy stash of mallowsweet, already rolled and neatly packed. “Do you want one?” you asked, expecting an emphatic ‘no’ from the straight-laced Ravenclaw, but to your great surprise he nodded. You smiled and offered the tin, his delicate fingers pinching a cigarette and holding it awkwardly as far away from his body as humanly possible. “Would you do the honours?”

Andrew blinked and then withdrew his wand, producing a tiny flickering flame from the tip. The first drag warmed your throat and filled your chest, the potent mallowsweet working wonders to calm your nerves that you knew had everything to do with being here with Andrew. The man himself spluttered a little but got the hang of it after a while. The quietly stifled coughs and the way he tucked his hand under his opposite arm and shuffled about as if he had no idea how to stand was so endearing you might have kissed him then. You'd been saying as such for over a year, and now…now it was too late.

“I didn't think you'd take me up on the offer,” you admitted.

“Well, it is our last night, and I don't know how many opportunities I'll have to do so working for the Ministry.”

“You’re right, my money's on opium.”

Andrew's eyes widened and you chuckled and nudged him playfully.

“Is there anything you'll regret not doing before you leave this place?” he asked, suddenly serious.

You blew a stream of smoke into the air and tossed your stub to the ground where it fizzled, flame dying beneath your boot. The question was innocuous enough, but it was as if he'd read your mind, or perhaps correctly discerned why you both stood in the dank boathouse on a warm Summer's night. The truth had seemed far too risky to speak until now. The friendship you'd cultivated with Andrew was special; a fragile and beautiful thing that you couldn't bear to lose due to one unrequited admission. Besides, he was to relocate to London and you…well, you would be sent wherever Gringotts deemed necessary, tracing old rumours of forgotten treasures. You'd made peace with the fact; the nomadic lifestyle you'd expect from your chosen career path. Until now.

“There is one thing,” you replied vaguely, watching him closely. He leaned back against a wooden pillar and gazed down at the lapping waters that swayed the row boats with a faint and rhythmic clatter. To hell with it. “I regret not asking for more between us.”

He swallowed hard, and exhaled heavily. You weren't sure if he'd expected the answer or not, but either way it had unsettled him. When he looked up through the strands of dislodged ashen hair, your heart momentarily stopped. His pupils were blown, cheeks flushed the softest pink you'd ever seen. Everything around him grew hazy and dreamlike.

“Me too. I've been a bit of a coward, haven't I?”

He stepped closer now, salt spray unable to mask the scent of mallowsweet and patchouli. Maybe a hint of citrus. 

“Maybe we both have been.” The mood suddenly shifted from awkward anticipation into something solemn and regretful. It really was too late. “We could have been good together, I think.”

Andrew sighed and slipped a hand around your waist, the movement sending a pleasant tingle up your spine. His nose brushed the tip of yours, lips parted and warm, shuddering breaths mingled for far too long. The tension was unbearable and your fingers were clasped so tightly into the cloth of his shirt it must have strained at the seams. He might have been considering his actions—how wise this was, the pros and cons of giving in, like a truly analytical Ravenclaw—or perhaps he was just too shy to close the distance.

“If you kiss me I don’t think I’ll want to stop,” you muttered. It might have been a warning, or maybe an enticement, but it was the truth. Another sharp inhale and a tighter grip, now Andrew’s lips hovered so close to your own there was barely space between to draw your own breath. There was something distinctly intimate about sharing each other’s air.

“Is that a promise?” His reply sent more than a shiver up your spine—it set your very nerves on fire, insides squirming and tension pooling. Your eyelids fluttered closed as you nodded, practically falling into the kiss that followed. Your back hit a wall soon after in the frantic and desperate entwining of bodies, as if a dam had exploded the moment your lips touched. One more chance to make a memory, one final hurrah. This was setting you up for heartbreak come morning, but none of that mattered now, not in this blissful moment when you finally got the answers to the questions of how Andrew tasted, what his body felt like pressed against you, how he kissed and touched and moaned (delicious, firm, enticingly, possessively, breathily). His mouth was at your throat and suddenly it was impossible to breathe. The way he encircled your waist to hold you in place, the gentle suction at your nape and the leg that slid between your thighs spoke of a confidence and experience you hadn’t expected.

“I can’t stand the thought of anyone else…,” you said before he slid you forward onto his thigh. The friction made you gasp his name, right into his waiting mouth.

“Don’t,” he breathed back.

His body had stilled except for the circles his thumbs pressed into your waist, and then he pulled back just enough to look at you. There was more than friendship, more than lust in that look.

“I wish we had done this last year,” you admitted.

“Would you still have taken the job as a cursebreaker?”

“I don’t know.”

He smiled sadly and brushed a stray lock of hair from your face. “If tonight is all we have, let's ruin ourselves for anyone else.”

The words elicited such a visceral reaction you almost whimpered and you pulled him firmly by his shirt to close the distance between you. Your hand found his hair and gripped him tightly, letting the last of your inhibitions melt away with his kiss. Tears of longing fell behind closed lids, the pain of time wasted and what could have been driving you closer. Your fingers fumbled at his shirt buttons, the last two ripped away in a desperate need to feel his skin warm against yours. Andrew had already shrugged off your top layer with deft hands and was exploring the slope between neck and shoulder with his tongue. Words weren’t enough, so instead you concentrated on the frenzied merging of body and soul.

A large hand kneaded your breast as he groaned against your skin, and then you felt the unmistakeable hard length grinding against your hip. His name fell unbidden from your lips in a heady haze of arousal and sweet pleasure. His other hand had found its way between your thighs and was gently caressing the fabric of your undergarments. It wasn’t enough to relieve the throbbing ache, not at all, no matter how much you ground your hips against his fingers.

“Andrew, please...” You pleaded without shame, dipping your hand below the hem of your skirt to pull at your underwear and wriggle free with his help. His hand came back up to meet bare skin, then pressed further to find you wet and quivering. 

“Fuck.” The expletive caught you off guard and was as shocking as Andrew having his fingers circling your clit. You let out a shuddering moan of relief as his slick digits began a rhythmic caress. You were vaguely aware of his cock nudging your hip again and his tongue sliding across yours between gasping moans. It was rather sloppy and entirely wonderful. Your fingers managed to unbutton his trousers whilst partially dazed and writhing with the sweet escalation of your climax. You felt the weight of him, his girth filling your hand. Then he let out an absolutely filthy moan once you started to stroke him.

“I need you inside me right now,” you commanded.

His fingers carried on their tight circles as he thrusted into your hand—as if he hadn’t heard you at all—until suddenly the pressure was gone and he retreated. As if he’d slapped you, your mouth fell open in shock and indignation until he spun you around, hands planted firmly against the wall. His cock slid between your cheeks whilst he spread your legs and pressed his chest against your heaving back, kissing every available inch of skin around your neck, jaw, forehead.

You braced yourself as you felt him nudge at your entrance, dripping wet against his twitching cock. Nails scraped the wall and gathered dirt beneath your nails and your head fell back against his shoulder as he pushed inside you. The stretch was gloriously satisfying, and once he’d filled as much as you could take, he turned your head to press his lips to yours. There was no time for second guessing, no question of turning back now.

Stars perforated your vision as soon as he started to move in earnest, withdrawing almost all the way before plunging back inside you, over and over again. He found your breasts again, massaging in time to each roll of his hips. Groans and gasping moans filled the cavernous structure, loud and completely unimpeded. His name, your name, begging for more and harder, faster, until you couldn’t stop the explosion that rattled your brains and turned your body to a limp mess. The orgasm tore through you, only barely aware of Andrew holding your neck as he pounded into you before shuddering and spilling his release, warm and wet and so copious it ran down your thigh. Your hand that looped around the back of his neck kept him close as the last pulses faded away. Not that he seemed interested in going anywhere; he held you tightly and murmured against your skin for quite some time.

It was so perfect you almost wept.

“Ask me to stay,” you said, quite unexpectedly.

A moment passed, silent.

“Stay. Stay with me.”

Perhaps it was the beautiful afterglow but when you looked back at your so-called friend you couldn’t say deny him. The thought of leaving felt unthinkable, the mere suggestion that you go your separate ways and love another was unacceptable. A great lump formed in your throat when you kissed him again, the terrifying truth that he meant more than the career you’d planned for yourself.

“Ask me again in the morning.”

“Will you change your mind before then?” he asked.

“No, but I like the illusion that it’s a hard decision.”

Andrew smiled, his shy demeanour returning despite still being buried inside you. It had started to rain, the gentle patter a soothing backdrop as you both cleaned up and dressed, slowly and with plenty of lingering gazes over one another. You saw warmth and affection reflected in his eyes. As he took your hand without question, you realised it was time to return to the festivities and revel in the fact that the entire trajectory of your life had just changed. Maybe it was reckless, but you supposed some things, some people were worth taking a chance on.

[writing-intheundercroft]

WIP: Sweet to Dream - A. Larson

A/N: finished a particularly excruciating chapter of my long fic, so rewarding myself by spending time on our fav shy ravenclaw!!! This one is for the Andrew Larson fan club <3

Summary: You've picked up a part time job at Honeydukes to keep Officer Singer off your back. Luckily, there's plenty of eye candy to keep you occupied - a blond Ravenclaw in particular.

You should be grateful, you think.  It’s February, and only complete idiots (Sebastian included) have braved the snowstorm to visit Hogsmeade. You’ve probably sold only five galleons worth of candy and even the owner, Mr. Flume, has phoned it in. 

You would close up shop early today, if it weren’t for the handsome blond examining the acid pops.  

“Do you know who that is?” You ask, leaning over the counter. “They’re kind of cute.”

Sebastian turns to you, a smug smile on his face. “I was wondering when you’d notice.” he snorts, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s Andrew Larson.”

“Surely that’s not.” you blink rapidly, almost rubbing your eyes to get a clearer look at the tall, broad-shouldered blond. “Sebastian, there’s no way that’s Andrew Larson.”

Sebastian clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Always underestimating the Ravenclaws.  Now that you’ve pulled your head out of Garreth Weasley’s arse–”

“Shut up, Sebastian.” you snap, jaw hardening at the mention of your ex-boyfriend.

Sebastian grins broadly, turning to lean over the counter. “Alright, alright.  But that is Andrew Larson, and he’s currently unattached.  Ended things with Adelaide last November. Poor thing was distraught over him. Can't blame her, he got particularly fit over the summer from Quidditch camp.”

Sebastian Sallow may be a pain in your ass, but he’s also an excellent wingman and the school’s most knowledgeable tattler.  There’s a ninety nine percent chance that he’s correct with his gossip, and you’re silently thanking your favorite friend for his tenacity in helping you get over Garreth.

[sincericida]

Excuse me while, I gotta go cry.

(from Lin Manuel Miranda IG)

[legacygirlingreen]

Sebastian Sallow Audio

This is from my newest chapter of my fic, which can be found here. If you haven't read the most recent chapter there is spoilers, but as a reminder I stray from canon quite a bit. The Sebastian image is from @dvinaamesca.

Warnings: mention of capture/torture

Hope you all enjoy!

[spaceyaceface]

I just discovered your blog from your fake dating story and I am in love with everything you have written! I would like to request one if you are open to writing it. Sebastian and f!mc’s relationship is at a standstill after a big fight. Rumors floating around the castle that they have broken up, a student who fancies MC takes his chance to flirt and ask MC on a date. MC hesitantly, like she’s unsure, claims she’s with Sebastian. He does not believe her, perhaps because MC does not believe it herself. Possessive!Sebastian appears.

AHHHH thank you so so much, you're wonderful anon! This was such a fun one to write---I really enjoy Possessive!Seb haha, I hope you enjoy it! Thanks so much for the request!

Sebastian Sallow x f!MC/Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Possessive!Seb, Andrew Larson being rude, making out lol

She and Sebastian had fought before, but never like that. 

What made it worse is she knew it was all her fault. It had started out like many of their disagreements—she had been late coming back from the Forbidden Forest, and was a bit banged up. Sebastian, as always, had waited up for her. He’d made a habit of doing that, always telling her he’d be unable to sleep until she was safe. Most of the time, she would let him worry over her for a few minutes, heal whatever wounds the Wiggenweld had missed, and then kiss goodnight. But that night, everything had been too much. 

She had failed to save the puffskeins she’d been fighting to save. A quick cast of Depulso had caught her just at the worst moment, sending her flying back into a cliffside. As she crumpled to the ground, the poachers had grabbed their loot and aparated away. So when Sebastian fussed over her—and that time she didn’t even have anything worthwhile to show for it—she snapped. 

How she wished she could take back the words she’d said to him. What she wouldn’t give for a time turner to slap some sense into her past self. She accused him of being too controlling, of telling her what she could and couldn’t do (that was completely false—he’d always let her go where and when she wanted, as long as he let her know). Then he fired back that perhaps he’d allowed her too much freedom, had she been hit so hard she’d lost her bloody mind? It only escalated from there. It ended with her storming out of the room, without even a hint of remorse. 

Oh, how she felt it now.

It hit her as she curled up in bed, staring up at the ceiling as her anger cooled. The tears flooded her alongside the regret. She had said some horrible things. What if he couldn’t forgive her? 

She didn’t sleep that night. Or the night after that. Or any for the several days that followed. 

Because when she had gone to apologize that morning, she… couldn’t. It wasn’t that she was stubborn or wanted him to say sorry first—it was fear that he wouldn’t accept her apology, that she had permanently ruined things between them. Maybe that fight would finally make him realize how much better he could do than her. 

So she didn’t approach him. And he didn’t approach her. For an agonizing week they went on in silence. She could swear she felt his eyes on the back of her head, but when she turned, he would be talking to someone else. For as much as she stared, longing to see that lop-sided smirk she knew so well, he didn’t turn her way. It was awful.

And now there were rumors—rumors that she didn’t know what to do with. People began to whisper that they’d broken up, that the Hero of Hogwarts was back on the market. It made her sick to her stomach. She didn’t want to be with anyone but Sebastian, and the thought of them not being together—well, it tore her apart. 

What made it even worse was Andrew Larson trying to take his chance with her. 

Throughout the week, he began to make sly remarks in class about how wonderfully she had performed the spells. He walked with her, even offering to carry her books, which she nearly scoffed at. Every time he said something like that, she couldn’t help but glance at Sebastian, seeing if it would garner any reaction from him. He never said anything or stepped in, but she could see the way his jaw tensed—it gave her a bit of hope that perhaps there was still something there for them. 

It all came to a head nine days after her and Sebastian had fought. She was in the courtyard, studying—normally she would have gone to the library, but Sebastian was usually there that time in the evening. She read through the pages of her textbook, trying her best to get lost in the pages. Evidently, it worked; she hadn’t heard Andrew Larson’s footsteps as he had approached her. 

The clearing of his throat startled her from her reading, and she looked up at him. There was a smile on his face–-one that filled her with much more dread than it should have. 

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“In a way, I suppose,” he said. 

She frowned. “Well then, what is it?” 

“I was wondering if you would join me on a trip to Hogsmeade tomorrow.” 

Her heart dropped. She hadn’t once played into his attempts at flirting—never showed any sign she felt that way towards him, yet he still had the gall to ask her out? 

She stood, starting to gather her things to get out of there as quickly as possible. “No, thank you, Andrew.” 

“And why not?”

“You know full well I—” her throat felt suddenly dry. Her voice came out weaker as she continued. “I’m… with Sebastian.”

Andrew let out a laugh, one that made her stomach churn. “Oh, please. You two haven’t even looked at each other in a week. It couldn’t be more clear you’ve gone your separate ways. I promise I’m an excellent candidate to get you back into dating.”

“We haven’t broken up,” she said. But it sounded like she was trying to reassure herself more than anything. “We just…” Just what, she thought. 

Andrew seemed to read her thoughts and made a strange attempt at a reassuring smile. “It’s alright. I promise I can help that little broken heart of yours.”

“You won’t be doing anything of the sort, Larson.” 

She whirled around toward the familiar voice. Her heart fluttered at the expression on his face. He wore a deep scowl, lip curled slightly from disgust. His eyes were dark and menacing. 

It was pretty hot.

His wand was clenched in his hand, and she couldn’t really find it in herself to tell him to calm down. 

Andrew didn’t seem nearly as phased as he should have been. She had seen looks like that cross Sebastian’s face before, and it never ended well for the person on the receiving end of his fury. Instead of running like a sensible man might do, Andrew stood his ground, arms crossed. “Oh really? And why is that, Sallow?”

“Because she’s mine.”

The way he practically growled the word sent shivers down her spine.

Andrew narrowed his eyes. “She didn’t seem too sure about that just a moment ago. Maybe she needs the chance to see what she’s missing out on.” 

And suddenly Sebastian’s dark and angry eyes were on her, and he was stepping closer, and some instinct in the back of her head warned her to run, but of course she won’t, not from Sebastian, never from Sebastian—and then his lips crashed into hers, his hands on either side of her face, and she felt like she would combust on the spot—

He’s kissed her before, too many times to count. There kisses stolen between classes, when he insisted he just could resist her lovely smile, kisses in private, where he let his lips linger and part until they were overtaken with laughs and smiles . Kisses that were passionate, hungry, leaving her aching with a strange need. None of them held a flame to this.

Her arms lift to wrap around the back of his neck, pulling herself closer to the heat of his mouth. One of his hands left her face to pull her hips to his, and he took advantage of the gasp that parted her lips, letting himself taste her even more deeply. 

It was ghastly. Indecent. Provocative. Heavenly.

She was barely aware of all the students that cleared themselves out of the courtyard (though not after a good moment of gawking at the sight). Andrew Larson stomped away among them. Finally, the pair broke apart, gasping desperately for the shared air between them. It was a good few minutes before either of them had the mind to talk. 

“I’m sorry,” Sebastian said. His voice was husky in a way that made her want to reclaim his lips, but she knew she could wait until they got some things settled. 

“You better not be referring to that kiss,” she breathed out. “Because that was… it was…”

He chuckled, placing a soft kiss on the tip of her nose, a stark contrast to their ministrations mere moments ago. “Oh believe me, I’m not sorry for that one bit. It seemed to get the message to Larson pretty well, too.” 

She blushed, the realization that they had more than just a handful of witnesses to that scene hitting her. But she shook the thought. “Then you better not be saying sorry for our stupid fight, either.”

Sebastian’s brows furrowed. “Am I not supposed to apologize for fighting?” 

“Not when you did nothing wrong,” she sighed, burying her head in the crook of his neck. “It was all my fault. I was frustrated and I took it out on you. I’m sorry.” 

“I still could have come to talk to you this whole time,” he said. “But I didn’t. Thought maybe you’d be better off without me.”

She nearly laughed at that. “That’s silly. I was thinking you were better off without me.” 

“Then maybe we can agree that both of those thoughts are ridiculous.” 

She pulled her face up to look at him. “I love you, Sebastian. And I promise if we ever fight again, I’m not going to be an idiot.”

“I’m not sure I can promise the same.”

She laughed, and he grinned at the sound. One week had been much too long without it. 

He bit his lip a bit. “I um… I’m sorry I sort of… lost control over Larson.” His gaze trailed away from hers. 

She blushed. “Don’t be. It was hot.”

His eyes widened as they met hers once again. “Hot?”

She gave a small nod. “Yes. What was it you said? I’m yours?”

His grip on her tightened as he grinned down at her. “And don’t you forget it.”

“I think I could use another reminder, if you don’t mind.”

He didn’t mind at all.

[hufflegruff]

Chapter 3: A Knowing Look

Pairing: Sebastian x F!Reader Summary: In which Sebastian is whipped and literally everyone can see from a mile away that this is more than friendship.

“I have it on good authority that Andrew Larson is after your girl.” Sebastian wanted to laugh, because he must have misheard. And if not, surely that was just a jest. Also, his girl? Hearing it (even out of Leander’s slimy mouth) was both thrilling and petrifying. But before he could reply, Leander continued. “Made a big scene about how he’s going to ask her out today.” Sebastian swore he could feel the Earth’s rotation come to a halt and his head spin. “But I guess if she’s not your girl - it’s no bother, is it?”

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 AO3 link

Chapter 3: Leander

“Distracted Sallow? Never took you for a bumbling love sick fool.”

Sebastian couldn’t help the groan that crawled out his throat. 

Sebastian had his suspicions, but Leander’s snivelling face confirmed it. 

The universe was out to destroy him. 

His day had already been bad enough. Leander had bested him in a duel in Defence Against the Dark Arts— which only fed his gargantuan ego. Even Professor Hecat was surprised at how atrocious Sebastian’s form had been. Every misstep and poorly spellcast, she made sure to let him know. 

So it was safe to say that Sebastian did not have the patience nor the energy to humour any of Leander’s buffoonery.

He didn’t even really know how it happened. It was all a blur once he stepped onto the duelling platform. Then all of a sudden he was face flat on the ground. His robes haphazardly flung over his head. His legs strewn across the floor. 

Merlin, how atrociously humiliating. 

Especially when he was still trying to recover from his last humiliating incident in the library.

His last conversation with Poppy had made a total and utter mess of him. He felt like mush. All sentimental flesh and no bones. His mind and heart was still in disarray from their last conversation. When she had so brazenly implied that it was only obvious to assume he was courting the Hero of Hogwarts, the thought of actually courting her was the only thing that ran laps around his cluttered mind. 

That was probably why he lost to Leander in the first place. 

Ever since their encounter in the library, his eyes felt like they were moving constantly in conflict. Half of the time, they couldn’t stop searching every hallway and every nook and every corner of the castle in search of her. The other half of the time (when they finally found her), his eyes could never quite meet hers.

How did he end up becoming this silly bundle of nerves and contradictions?

That was how Sebastian found himself moping in the Transfiguration courtyard, with only the idle castle pigeons in his company. He had spent the past hour glaring daggers at any mythical statues that deigned to throw pitiful looks his way. He even ignored Ominis’ owls. He had been perfectly content brooding by his lonesome. 

That was until Leander-the-knobhead-Prewett showed up. 

“Piss off Prewett,” a migraine brewed above the bridge of Sebastian’s nose, “Go spew your nonsense to someone who cares.”

Leander ignored his protests, and perched himself comfortably on the bench next to Sebastian instead. All Sebastian had wanted today was a quiet afternoon to sulk in peace. He wanted to claw his hair out at how he had even been robbed of that. By Leander of all people. He was probably the last person on the bloody planet Sebastian wanted to share this afternoon in the courtyard with.

“Shame. It seems without your girlfriend around, your duelling skills turn poorly.”

“What are you on about?” Sebastian bristled. 

Poorly? How dare he. 

Tough talk from a glorified overgrown ginger twig.

Also, not this again. Not today. It was one thing from Ominis and Poppy. But Leander? If even one other nosy Gryffindor came up to him to imply that he was courting the girl wonder, Sebastian was going to throw himself off the edge of the Astronomy tower. 

(But complicated feelings aside... Sebastian was grateful that she hadn’t been around to see his sorry arse get obliterated in class.)

“Come on. No need to be shy about it, Sallow. The whole school knows you’re soft on the new girl.” 

Leander gave him a terribly patronising pat on the back. Instinctually, Sebastian shoved him off.

Him? Soft? That was utterly ridiculous. Softness was for babies. For defenceless maidens. And Sebastian Sallow was not any of those things. He was smart as a whip. Tough as nails. Sharp as a blade. Softness was not in his repertoire. 

“Well then, you’re even dumber than you look, cause I’m not soft on anyone.” Sebastian replied snarkily.

Leander snorted, “Half of the year’s got bets on when you’ll finally be caught snogging in the hallways.”

Great. Just fucking wonderful. Of all the things Sebastian needed today, he definitely did not need the mental picture of him snogging his friend senseless wreaking havoc in his restless mind. And fuck off. Snogging in the hallways? Give him a little more credit. Sebastian was a raging flirt, but he wasn’t an exhibitionist. He was more romantic than that. If he was going to snog her it sure as hell wouldn’t be in plain view for the entire student body to see. 

Not that he was going to snog her of course. Not that he wanted to snog her.

It was just hypothetical. Scientific even.

But bets? Snogging? God this was probably karmic justice. For that one time in fourth year when he had spread a rumour that Duncan Hobhouse and Constance Dagworth had a romantic tryst in the broom closet in the clock tower. It wasn’t true of course. Which is why Constance was furious, and why Duncan (unsurprisingly) loved it. 

“It’s all good and well if other people want to waste their own money. Doesn’t bother me.” Sebastian replied, trying his best to sound aloof.

“Really?” Leander asked coyly, “Come on. We’ve all seen the sappy looks you give her.”

Sebastian was itching to hex the arrogant look off his face.

Genuinely, Sebastian couldn’t believe how many times he had to defend the status of their friendship this week alone. What business was it of others to speculate on such things anyway? Had Hogwarts, with its endless puzzles and mysteries, become so boring that Sebastian’s private life was now the talk of the town? 

“Oh relax. Don’t get your knickers in a twist Sallow,” Leander snickered, elated by Sebastian’s foul mood, “I was trying to do you a favour. I have information that might be of interest to you.”

Sebastian leant back further on the bench as his posture gave up. He was tired. He’d spent the better half of the week overthinking. He didn’t want to talk to Leander. He just wanted to laze in the sun and wallow. 

“I can’t for the life of me imagine you telling me anything of use.” 

He was positive that Leander had not a single wisdom to impart onto him.

“Oh, I can think of a thing or two.” Leander said, as if he’d just said something utterly hilarious but he wouldn’t say why.

“I’d be surprised if you could even string a sentence that could impress me.” Sebastian retorted. He might’ve lost their duel, but he wasn’t about to lose this battle of words.

But then Leander pulled a fast one on him and said her name.

“It’s about her.” 

Of course it was about her. How could it not be about her? But simultaneously, how could it be about her? There was nothing that Leander could know about her that Sebastian already didn’t. The Gryffindor was more than likely baiting him, trying to rile him up. 

Which is why he should’ve obviously left it — curiosity never did no cats any good. (But Sebastian wasn’t a cat. And never knowing would’ve likely killed him just the same.)

“Enlighten me,” Sebastian said dryly.

He could tell that pleased Leander immensely.

Haughtily, Leander leaned towards Sebastian and whispered, “I have it on good authority that Andrew Larson is after your girl.”

Sebastian wanted to laugh, because he must have misheard. And if not, surely that was just a jest. Also, his girl? Hearing it (even out of Leander’s slimy mouth) was both thrilling and petrifying.

But before he could reply, Leander continued.

“Made a big scene about how he’s going to ask her out today.”

Sebastian swore he could feel the Earth’s rotation come to a halt and his head spin. 

Predictably, Leander was looking at Sebastian awfully smug. Like he had spent years since their first day at Hogwarts mining into the depths of Sebastian’s subconscious with cheap insults and backhanded duelling tactics and finally struck gold. He had found the thing that unnerved him most. Unravelled him into a mess of emotions. 

Her. 

“But I guess if she’s not your girl - it’s no bother, is it?”

It was no bother. Logically, emotionally, in actuality — no bother at all. Not a single fucking one. 

So why did it feel like someone had just flung him mercilessly into the black lake? Tied to an anchor pulling him down into a cavern of endless despair? Like someone had grabbed him by the throat and was choking him with intent to kill? And why did he have this sudden, insatiable urge to beat Andrew Larson into a miserable pulp?

She was not his girl, by any means or definition. And as Sebastian had previously clarified, he was not soft on her either. So logically, if some guy wanted to throw their hat into the ring to court her, there was no issue. 

But when Sebastian genuinely tried to picture it: Larson making her laugh; putting his gangly arms around her shoulders; staring deeply into her eyes - it just felt wrong. It felt unnatural. It felt like the ground was flipped on its head. It flooded bile in the back of his throat. It didn’t make sense. None of it. And what could a simpleton like Andrew Larson even offer the girl wonder anyways? 

Sebastian had never thought much of Andrew Larson before. And that was exactly it. He wasn’t much to think about at all. No redeeming qualities of note. So what made him think that he was worthy of her? She was the Hero of Hogwarts for Merlin’s sake. She was strong and lovely and unyielding and a tempest and way out of his league.

Sebastian was definitely angrier than rationality called for. But even just the thought of Larson’s weasley little hands touching her made his blood boil. 

And when blood boiled, it eviscerated everything.

“It’s none of my business.” Sebastian practically spat with his fists clenched.

The words came out more brusquely than he intended (but less than he truly felt).

To his credit, Leander was surprised, “What? Don’t you want to know where and when he’s going to do it?”

“What fucking for?” 

Leander looked at him condescendingly, “Well I don’t know, to save her from Larson’s grubby hands or something?” 

“You and I both know she doesn’t need saving,” Sebastian affirmed with an eye roll.

“Come on Sallow. You’re having me on. I know you’re just dying to put that Ravenclaw in his place.”

Sebastian would love nothing more. But he didn’t want to give Leander the upper hand.

Leander scoffed, “Fine whatever. Don’t say I didn’t try to warn you. I was trying to help you out of the goodness of my heart. Don’t come crying to me when you find out that she’s decided to try going out with Larson.”

Almost dramatically, Leander made his move to stand up and go. But it was all for show of course. He just wanted Sebastian to beg for his help. 

But Sebastian wasn’t paying him any mind. Too busy caught in the storm of his own emotions.

Because the more he thought about it — the more he took a mental magnifying glass and really, really scrutinised the damn feeling — the more he was inclined to believe that perhaps he was soft on her. 

For starters, he was always worrying about her. Whether she was safe on her adventures. Whether she’d eaten breakfast. Whether she was tired from the weight of being so depended on. Was that softness? Whenever she looked at him, he felt terrified. Like his heart would race out of his chest from the sight of her. Was that softness? 

Was softness meant to feel this anxious? That didn’t sound right. 

It didn’t sound at all like the romances that maidens sang in their folk songs. They made it sound so easy. Nothing about his feelings for her ever felt easy to understand. For Sebastian, there were no butterflies or angel songs or clouds parting or hippogriff rides off into sunset. It was nothing like that. It always felt urgent. It always felt like endless running and scalding fire and falling off the edge of the universe all at once. 

Like she was her own blinding force of magnetism pulling him towards her, off the edge of an unknown precipice. And Sebastian didn’t mind at all. Hell, even if she didn’t tug him, even if she protested — he would’ve marched right up to her, grabbed her hand and jumped off the edge with her without a second thought. 

Maybe… in its own complex and twisted way, that meant that he was soft on her.

(And maybe that was the most terrifying thing about it all.)

God. That meant that he couldn’t let Andrew anywhere near her.

With renowned vigour, Sebastian pulled Leander by his robe and demanded.

“Tell me.” Sebastian finally.

Leander stopped his pacing. Check and mate. Hook, line and sinker. He knew that he would cave; Leander had him right where he wanted him — and the fucker had never looked so delighted with himself.

“I knew that you’d need my help.”

Like they had a mind of his own, his legs moved first. 

First they walked briskly, and then suddenly they were sprinting at reckless speeds towards her. God knows why, because he surely didn’t. Sebastian was so single-minded in his run that he didn’t hear the complaints of the castles sleepy paintings, nor Imelda Reyes yells to slow the fuck down, nor the screeches from the gaggle of first years running from the madman he must have appeared to be.

He was running headfirst into … god knows what. On the precarious word of Leander Prewett. On the word that some other guy had thought he was foolishly worthy to ask for even a slither of her attention.

The running was endless. It was stairs and narrow arches and stretches of hallways. But he wasn’t going to stop. Not even a radical force of nature could stop him in his path. Tunnel vision would get him to that greenhouse; Sebastian’s blind faith would make sure of it. 

Because now that he finally could admit to himself that maybe he was soft on her. That maybe their friendship was dearer to him than most other friendships. That maybe all of this was (at most) a crush — he couldn’t let Andrew Larson derail everything before he even started.

Not that he had a solid plan or anything. 

Which was abundantly clear to him now that he found himself standing in front of the towering doors that led into the greenhouse. He was out of breath and logical reasoning. If he did see them... What would he do about it? 

What could he do about it?

But with no time to waste, Sebastian guessed he would just have to find out.

So he pushed open the doors.

And once he stepped into the greenhouse, Sebastian couldn’t help but grimace. Of course someone as mediocre as Andrew Larson would pick somewhere as basic as the Greenhouse to try to court the girl wonder. He probably thought that he could woo her with a flower or two. That if she didn’t have any feelings for him to begin with, she was a simple enough girl that a bouquet was enough to sway her with his affection.

But he would be wrong. Because she wasn’t the kind of girl that would go on a romantic dalliance with a boy she hardly knew. With a Ravenclaw no less. She was too smart, too witty, too compelling to be wasted on someone like him. 

She had always been better suited with Slytherins anyway. At least they had the cunningness to match her endless ferocity.

(Or — as Sebastian tried his best to avoid saying — she was better suited with him.)

From a distance, he could hear quiet chatter. 

And when he looked, between the restricted view of foliage, Sebastian felt a pang in his heart at the sight of them.

They were standing in a secluded alcove of the greenhouse light. She was drenched in sunlight and surrounded by all things flora — and even in these distressing times, he couldn’t help but think that she looked bewitching. 

… And beside her was Andrew.

All he wanted to do was run up to her and pull her out of his orbit. The itch in his fingers to reach out to touch her was stronger than ever; her gravitational pull was overwhelming. But she would’ve probably hated him for it. The girl wonder would never fancy herself a damsel in distress.

But maybe she would forgive him if he said that he was saving himself. From the grief of watching someone try to claim her as their own. 

Nevertheless, Sebastian refrained and casted a quick disillusionment charm. Staying stealthily behind this fern planter would have to suffice.

As he tip-toed closer, Sebastian heard Andrew’s pompous voice ring out:

“... I mean, it’s no secret. I think you’re absolutely incredible. And stunning. So I was wondering if you would do me the honour of accompanying me to Hogsmeade next weekend?”

When he heard Andrew speak, all Sebastian could see was blinding red. Gone were the lacewing flies in his chest. They were replaced with a feeling more feral and bitter and grotesque.

In the air sat a thick, heavy pause. It was silent. With fear and anticipation frothing at the base of his throat, Sebastian gripped his own hands in wait. So hard that bruises were probably blooming.

Surely she was going to reject him… Right?

“I’m…” She began tentatively. 

Just as Andrew leaned in expectantly (patronisingly even), Sebastian leaned in uneasiness. The tension was palpable. Sebastian could taste it in the air, weighing on the crease of his brow, splitting cuts into the skin of his lips.

Surely she was going to say no… Right?

Finally, she replied, “That’s a very lovely offer Andrew, but I’m afraid that I can’t take you up on it. Thank you for thinking of me though.”

After she had spoken, Sebastian let go of the shaky breath he hadn’t even realised he was holding in. 

The world wasn’t in peril anymore, he wasn’t seeing red. Her words were like oxygen to his battered lungs; he could finally breathe again. 

Her voice had sounded perfectly diplomatic. Polite and wonderfully neutral. No hint of derision, with just the right amount of compassion. And Sebastian couldn’t thank the heavens enough for it.

Thank Merlin. Thank Salazar. Thank any and all of the Gods that looked down upon him.

But almost comically, Andrew’s face quickly sour. Just a second ago, the Ravenclaw had been brimming with bravado. Now he looked like an embittered spoiled child who didn’t know how to take no for an answer. Sebastian could tell that this was clearly not the way that Andrew had hoped that this would go — and he had never been more ecstatic for someone’s flagrant misery.

Sebastian had a feeling that he wouldn’t take the rejection with grace, but he hoped that the Ravenclaw would have the sense to not make a scene.

“Come on. It’s just one butterbeer. Can’t hurt, can it?” Andrew sounded almost annoyed. 

From his hiding spot, Sebastian almost laughed. What nerve did this dunce have to be annoyed? It seemed that the girl wonder felt the same.

She forgoed diplomacy, and raised her brow disapprovingly.

“Well, I’m sorry. But I’m simply not interested.”

“Well you’re not taken are you?” Andrew had the gall to retort.

She hesitated. Only for a brief moment, but significant enough for Sebastian to catch it. He couldn’t help but wonder — why did she stop?

 “No. I’m not.”

Andrew went to grab her wrist, “Well then the least you could do is not reject a man’s kind offer to take you out.”

Sebastian bristled through gritted teeth. Watching Andrew touch her was the last straw. He never thought twice about him until today, and now Sebastian hated him with every agitated fibre in his being. The nerve of this idiot. How dare he. Adrenaline spiked into his veins and before his brain had time to think, he was ready to punch the living daylights out of him—

But then she wrung her hand out of his grasp, and raises her wand at the ready as an act of defiance. When she glared at him, her eyes were ice cold and pure venom. Sebastian had never seen her so furious, it was almost impressive what Andrew managed to incite out of her. 

“I don’t need to do anything. I don’t owe anyone anything. Especially boys who refuse to take a lady’s refusal with grace,” She snapped back.

Sebastian retreated, and stood down. She was comfortably standing her ground and he wanted to jump for joy. He had never been more enthralled by her than in this moment.

Andrew snorted. Which Sebastian could tell displeased the girl wonder even more.

“I think I should go.” She said brusquely.

But before she could, Andrew rudely brushed past her shoulders, and muttered indignantly, “Whatever. Don’t bother. I’ll leave.”

When Andrew began to storm off, she was left in the lurch to watch the belligerent boy walk off in bewilderment. She stared agape, as if she was unsure whether or not to dignify his rude behaviour with a response. 

But Sebastian wasn’t about to let him off this easily. 

Just as Andrew started to stomp his way up the steps past the pond garden. A wicked idea struck Sebastian. As quickly as the idea came to him, he lifted his wand and pointed at the Ravenclaw’s feet.

“Impedimenta,” Sebastian whispered.

And almost as if he was moving in slow motion, Sebastian savoured every delectably humiliating expression that flickered on Andrew Larson’s face as he fell off the cobbled staircase; face first into the depths of the greenhouse pond.

Splash!

In less than five hours, the entire school had heard all about Andrew Larson’s failed attempt to court the girl wonder. The highlight of the tale was of course, his ungraceful dive head-first into the greenhouse pond.

The rumours first started when the Ravenclaw was seen storming out of the greenhouse annex drenched silly, with a nest of foliage poking out of his unruly hair. He had left a squelchy trail of footsteps behind him, and a flock of Gryffindors girls in speculating hushed whispers.

But then the details became public knowledge; and how that came to be would forever be a mystery.

When Ominis had first found out, he asked Sebastian if had heard the news. Ominis eyed him suspiciously, but said nothing more when Sebastian shrugged in response. He clearly suspected that Sebastian knew more than he was letting on.

At the dinner table, Ominis mused, “I wonder how they found out.”

Sebastian replied, “Yeah. I wonder.”

After expertly deflecting all of Ominis’ questions. He excused and made his way On his way back to the Slytherin common room, just on a corner leading up towards the grand staircase, he bumped into her.

“Oh, Sebastian!” She said warmly.

Hearing his own name come out of her mouth, Sebastian felt his heart literally skip a beat. Which was preposterous, because what business did hearts have skipping at all? Vital functions shouldn’t malfunction at the mere mention of a name.

Sebastian had thought about nothing but her in the last five hours; it felt like he had experienced a lifetime of emotions in that short span of time alone. There were so many words and feelings that he wanted to say to her. So many revelations and just as many answered questions.

“Hi.” Sebastian said.

But that was the only thing that he managed to get out. 

“I feel like… I haven’t seen you in a while,” She said.

It had been ages, Sebastian wanted to scream. It had been a week since they had properly spent any time together; since the last time they were in the library. It had been disgustingly too long — but how could he tell her that without sounding like an utter desperate fool?

“It has been a while. I imagine you’ve been busy.”

“Mmhm,” She said absentmindedly. 

Her eyes briefly glazed over, as if she was contemplating saying more to him. Sebastian had a feeling he already knew what was weighing on her conscience.

“I heard about Larson.” Sebastian said.

A light blush dusted on her cheeks. 

“Oh… You heard about that?” She chucked slightly nervously. In an attempt to hide her discomfort, she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, which stubbornly kept falling loose. Sebastian had to tell himself not to reach out and tuck it out of the way for her.  

“It’s all anyone can talk about.” Sebastian conveniently left out the part that he had actually been there to witness it all.

She grimaced. 

“Oh, it’s nothing newsworthy, I just told him that I wasn’t interested—”

“Good.” Sebastian interrupted (much too) abruptly.

Her eyes shot up to his, startled by the suddenness of his reply. Like a deer in headlights, he looked just as bewildered by the sound of his own voice. Fuck, did he really just say good? He cursed himself for how overly eager that must have sounded, and hoped that she didn’t read too much into it.

“I mean… it’s good you spoke your mind.” Sebastian clarified quickly.

She looked at him dubiously, with inquisitive eyes. Sebastian felt a chill run down his spine. He must have said too much with so little, because she was looking at him rather intensely. He couldn't help but wonder if she could now see through him, peering into his mess of his thoughts and emotions. 

Was she looking for an answer to something in particular? And did she find it?

But if she did, she didn’t reveal it.

“Right.” She finally said.

Then slowly, but surely, a smile grew on the edges of her lips. Like a soft patch of shade on a blistering summer day, it soothed his temperamental chest.

When Sebastian had tried to picture her and Andrew together, it all felt wrong. But right here, in this moment just between them, when she was looking straight at him, all felt right in the world. Like peace was at his footbed. Like his contentment was in the palm of her delicate hands. 

Sebastian couldn’t believe that he ever denied being soft on her. 

And he couldn’t believe it took so many people — including Leander for fucks sake — to see it.

“Join me tomorrow at dinner?” Sebastian said, before hurriedly adding, “And Ominis of course. Feels like it’s been a while”

She smiled and said, “Sure.”

This time, Sebastian didn’t fight the smile on his face, “Great.”

And in that moment, Sebastian did genuinely believe all was great. ——

Notes

This chapter was so fun to write but also it took me WAY longer than I thought it was going to. It's also wayyyy longer than chapter 1 and 2, so I hope you guys enjoyed it.

I apologise for the Leander slander. But tbh in some ways he's team SebxMc! So maybe we're all actually pro Leander

I also apologise for the Andrew Larson slander. tbh don't know a thing about him, so he probs doesn't deserve such hate. But oh well, the things we do for romance.

Shoutout to @wt-fxck @ithinkweallsing @mysticrose1210 @eleanorstaghart @deliciouslyferal @oliviajdjarin @80strashbag @radical-ghostface @tlnyjoong @fall727 @lololpiz @ssimpy for all your lovely comments and reblogs!!!!

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!! IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY!!!!

[glutengoblin]

Too Sweet (Part 2) - Sebastian Sallow X Reader

A/N: Apologies for the delay! As a Ravenclaw dealing with finals, I spent waaaaay too long in the library this past week. Here's part 2!

This story is inspired by "Too Sweet" by Hozier, which I have been playing on repeat for days at this point.

Also, if you'd like to be friends, please reach out! I would love to get to know you!

Summary: Sebastian has a problem, and that problem is his best friend. She is simply too sweet for him, and can't get her out of his head. Will he do something about his feelings, or choose to continue to keep them a secret? (She/Her Pronouns, House Neutral)

Word Count: 1.7 K

Ominis stared at his friend with surprise, trying to determine if he was actually meant to be taken seriously. Sebastian laughed at his expression- despite the fact that his stomach felt more queasy than it ever had, he settled on his decision.

“I mean, with graduation coming up, it's now or never, correct?” With that, Sebastian downed the last of his butterbeer in one fell swoop and stood up. Thankfully, years of downing fire whiskey after quidditch games had steeled him against the effects of alcohol, so for the most part, he was stable.

He turned around and surveyed the party, which had grown exponentially in rowdiness. Poppy was toppled over with laughter at something Garreth had said, with Natty by right by her side. Imelda actually stood on a table, chanting the Holyhead Harpies main cheer (apparently, she had just been accepted to the team that day). Even Amit appeared drunk, as he tried to explain the merits of astrology to Everett, who looked surprisingly okay with the topic of conversation.

When his eyes finally fell on Y/N, he grew a bit hot under the collar. She was sitting on a table, swinging her legs back and forth in her gleeful way. What Sebastian didn’t like was the cause of that glee, which was Andrew Larson, clearly telling that most fascinating joke. He was leaned ever so close to her, in a way that was awfully suggestive- and Sebastian hated it.

Sebastian stalked over, trying to flash his most charming smile, even though his anger was beginning to seep through. Truly, he didn’t adore the idea of Y/N being with some other than him.

As he approached, Y/N flashed him the most glorious smile. “Sebastian! I was hoping you’d come join. Andrew was just telling me about a new quidditch move he’s developing. I think its a brilliant idea.”

Andrew turned to look at Sebastian, his smile falling a bit as he examined his impression. “Y/N, I’m not sure its exactly information I want a Slytherin, of all people, to be privy too.” Andrew let out a chuckle, clearly trying to play it off as a joke.

Sebastian’s smile faded to a scowl, as he took a step closer, evidently sizing Andrew up. “And what exactly is wrong with being a Slytherin?” He quirked his head to the side, giving his best lost puppy expression, fanning ignorance to the fact that he knew exactly what Andrew had met.

Y/N threw a worried look between them, scooting off the table. “Hey, guys I don’t think that-” Andrew cut her off by giving her a hand, and giving Sebastian a scowl that rivaled his own.

“Perhaps I should clarify my statement Sallow. Its not so much that you’re Slytherin, as it is the fact that you’re you-” Sebastian gritted his teeth, clearly gearing up for the altercation that as about to ensue.

“Then what about me specifically-”

“I just think you’re an untrustworthy person. I mean, constantly up in the middle of the night, the way you’ve acted since your sister left- even she seems to think that you’re not worth associating with anymore-” Though Sebastian wasn’t proud of his next move, he was even less proud of what occurred after.

Sebastian lunged, socking Andrew with a fist straight to the eye. Stumbling back, Andrew drew his wand and threw a cast that Sebastian took straight to the chest, causing him to go flying back against the tables.

A hushed silence fell over the room as every onlooker watch the bar fight unfold in front of them. Sebastian lunged and Andrew, tackling him to ground as Andrew cried out. They rolled around on the floor, trying land more hits until Y/N finally drew her wand.

In an instant, the two men were floating in mid air, tethered in what Sebastian knew to be ancient magic. As soon as the shock from being lifted wore off, he took note of her expression. Y/N looked pissed- more than he had ever seen her.

Crossing her arms across her chest, she shot them both icy glares, before finally speaking. “ENOUGH! You two need to promise to stop acting like petulant children, and then I’ll put you down.” Evidently, both of them knew what was good for them as they nodded sheepishly. Lowering them both to the ground, Y/N then approached Sebastian. “You- Come with me.” Grabbing his upper arm, she lead him out onto the streets of Hogsmeade and to the nearest floo flame, muttering all the while.

Thankfully for his sake, she waited until they had arrived at her room of requirement before she lost her mind at him. “What the hell were you thinking Sebastian! Punching Larson? You’re already on thin ice with Weasley about the time you got in a brawl with Garreth after potions, what made you think it was a good idea to try a repeat!” Sebastian scowled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well, I wouldn’t have punched the git if he hadn’t said those things about Anne. I mean come on Y/N, you heard what he said.” Y/N turned away, rummaging through one of her potions stations as she muttered to herself. Eventually, she returned with a cloth and deep blue potion, which she gently dabbed onto the wound on his forehead.

“I know Sebastian- Andrew was completely out of line. But still, violence is never the answer to your problems.” Sebastian snorted at that.

“That’s rich coming from you of all people. The girl who has probably killed more goblins than most aurors.” He retorted, gaining him a slap on the arm that made him yelp. She gave him a glare worth of rivaling Professor Sharp’s.

“You know what I mean Sebastian. I don’t know what I would do if you got expelled, and given your last insurrection you’re closer than ever to achieving that goal.” Sebastian let out a chuckle, pushing her hand away from his forehead.

“Has anyone ever told you that you worry too much?” That statement only earned him a shake of her head and scowl. Honestly, he found it weirdly attractive when she angry- it was so unlike her normal sweet expression.

Y/N let out a sigh of relief as his wound finally began to close up. Sebastian could have sworn that he imagined the next words out of her mouth, because that would be a more reasonable, logical explanation. However, he most certainly didn’t.

“Only about you…”

“What do you mean by that?” Their faces were rather close at this point, likely from her trying to ensure that his wound was properly tended to. Sebastian, however, let himself hope for a second that it was because she longed to close the distance as much as he did.

She let out another sigh, as she searched his eyes for the answer he was hoping to hear. “I suppose you could say… I care about you more than I really do for anyone else.” Sebastian eyebrows shot up at her admittance - could it possibly be that she returned his feelings? While still not sure, he had promised Ominis that he would finally do something about his pesky crush. Now seemed as good of a time as any.

“I-I… I care for you more than I do anyone else too… in a romantic sense-” Sebastian admitted, his hand traveling up to her cheek as he waited in quiet an anticipation. “Sorry if that was too rushed, or not romantic enough. I just don’t really know how else to say it.”

Her voice quivered a bit as the full weight of his words hit her, cause a wild blush to travel over her cheeks. “Really? You-You have feelings for me?”

“Really. Would it be alright if I-” Sebastian’s request was cut off as her lips crashed into his. Gone was the girl who had been so delicate with his injured self mere seconds ago. Instead, she was replaced with a someone that seemed to want this as desperately as him, as her hands found purchase in his hair, pulling him further into her.

Sebastian could swear his heart was exploding in his chest. The fact that after everything that had transpired, everything since 5th year, that she still wanted him- he was astounded. It was right then and there that he thanked Salazar for this chance, and swore that he would try his absolute best not to mess this up.

Her lips against his tasted sweet in a way he couldn’t quite describe- not sickening, but rather addicting. He knew right then he was screwed- falling even harder for her instantly became inevitable.

Deciding to jump head first into the intoxication, he placed his hands on her hips and pulled her ever closer, pressing her smaller frame against his. She responded with a whimper that drove him absolutely mad, as he resounded to make her make that noise again.

Much to Sebastian’s dismay, they eventually had to pull apart for air. Staring at each other in shock, he gently brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, examining her eyes for any sign of regret. He was thankful to find none. After so long of just being friends, they had entered uncharted territory. The night felt new in an odd way, the excitement in the air was palpable.

Eventually Sebastian couldn’t bare it any longer, and grasped her hand in his. Running his thumb over her knuckles, he shot her a small smile. “Would it be too forward to ask you on a date at this point?”

Y/N let out a small chuckle, shooting him a sheepish smile. “Not at all, quite honestly I’ve been waiting two years for you to ask.” Sebastian’s cheeks flushed, as he quietly damned himself for not taking action much, much sooner. She broke his contemplative silence, urging her to look back up at her. “When did you want to-”

Sebastian squeezed her hand a bit tighter, considering for a moment. “Well, how about tomorrow? Preferably after 10 though, you know how I feel about my sleep.”

“That sounds fine. But don’t worry, eventually I’ll fix you. You’ll become a morning person if its the last thing I do before we graduate.”

Sebastian’s smile was wider than the whole sky as he leaned in, pressing another kiss against her lips.

“You keep telling yourself that.”

[ellivenollivander]

To show support, positivity & foster community I am going to share all of the things I’ve read this week, almost every week. ☺️

My ask box is open if you ever wish to send me something you love or have written. Non-HL content is below the cut. NSFW Content is in RED.

Salvation by @cuffmeinblack - Still reading, still devouring and it will likely have a permanent place on my wrap-ups from now until the end of time. Writing Prompt #2: Poppy Sweeting x Imelda Reyes One Shot by @theladyofshalott1989 - Wonderful sapphic representation in this silly little fandom, LOVED every second of this. 10/10 Gerald cameo. It's Now or Never by @skittish1807 - smutty smutty Sebastian Sallow smut smut. Sebastian caring for your virtue? I was panting like a dog. Will read this, and everything written by Skittish 1000 times over. A Moment Of Your Time by @applinsandoranges - Another beautiful Andrew Larson fic by Miss ApplinsandOranges. Snapshots of a beautiful relationship with the softest boy. Served Cold by @pluviowriting - Fifth year reminiscing. Garreth Weasley socking it to Sebastian Sallow. What else could you possibly ask for?

A Date, Of Sorts by @cuffmeinblack - A smutty Ron Weasley ficlet. Stressed out Auror!Ron, Healer!Reader. 100/10. Really scratched the itch for a good Ron appreciation fic after so much Dramione taking over my brain space as of late.

[girl-named-matty]

Headcanons Masterlist

Students: Sebastian Sallow: Sebastian Sallow Headcanons pt.1 Sebastian Sallow Headcanons pt.2 Sebastian Sallow Headcanons pt.3 Sebastian Sallow Headcanons pt.4 Sebastian's Boggart + Reaction to seeing MC's Boggart Sebastian Sallow x Tall!F!MC Headcanons Sebastian Sallow x Short!F!MC Headcanons Sharing a bed with Sebastian (gn!reader) Ominis Gaunt: Ominis Gaunt Headcanons Ominis Gaunt x Tall!F!MC Headcanons Ominis Gaunt x Short!F!MC Headcanons Sharing a bed with Ominis (gn!reader) Garreth Weasley: Garreth Weasley Headcanons Sharing a bed with Garreth (gn!reader) Leander Prewett: Sharing a bed with Leander (gn!reader) Amit Thakkar: Sharing a bed with Amit (gn!reader) Everett Clopton: (open) Andrew Larson: Sharing a bed with Andrew (gn!reader) Imelda Reyes: Imelda Reyes Headcanons Poppy Sweeting: Poppy Sweeting Headcanons Natsai Onai: (open) Anne Sallow: (open) Professors: Professor Fig: Eleazar Fig Headcanons Professor Sharp: Aesop Sharp Headcanons Professor Weasley: (open) Professor Onai: (open) Professor Hecate: Random HCs 1 +2 Professor Garlick: (open) Professor Ronen: (open)

(By the way "open" just means I haven't written any HC's about them yet!)

[cuffmeinblack]

Innocence lost

Andrew Larson x f!reader/MC drabble

Tags: explicit | m!receiving oral

⤍ Andrew Larson masterlist ⤎

His fingers curled into her hair as he stifled the moans that threatened to burst from his chest. The wooden floorboards creaked as his hips shifted, unable to contain the thrust upward. More, more, more. Her mouth was too soft, too warm, the tight muscle in her throat too inviting to ignore any longer. Through his laboured breathing he heard the shuffle of students above him, working late into the night. Whilst they stared out at the stars amongst a perfectly clear inky backdrop, Andrew met the twinkle of her eyes, more beautiful than any celestial body. He thought he might lose his mind down here, tucked amongst crates and boxes of old telescopes. Gods, it was so hard to stay silent when all he wanted to do was sigh her name. It was the least he could do to show his appreciation. Instead, he tried to portray his thanks with his eyes, the mahogany depths glazed with tears from such overwhelming pleasure he could scarcely imagine anything surpassing this moment.

She'd dragged him down here under the pretence of finding a replacement lens, twirling her hair and biting her lip in what was obvious flirtation, yet Andrew had thought she was just being nice. Only when she went in for a kiss did it finally dawn on him what the flush of her skin and dilated pupils had indicated. His own body responded so eagerly he might've been embarrassed if not for her equally enthusiastic reaction, delicate little hands rubbing him through his school breeches until his cock strained against the waistband. It hadn't been long until her lips were wrapped around him, though his brain still hadn't quite caught up; he was still disbelieving that she'd been quite so forward. Guilt swirled in his gut, yet he'd not been the one to initiate and there was no doubt she'd wanted this, and yet...it jarred against his gentlemanly sensibilities. Still, he might have cared more if she wasn't busy fondling his balls.

A louder creak from above made Andrew jolt, startling him from his ecstatic haze. She didn't stop, barely even slowed, her lips curling into a smirk that set his body ablaze. More footsteps and chatter from above as Andrew felt panic set in. His eyes darted around, ears pricked for any footfalls on the staircase. He almost asked her to stop, until she took him deep into her throat with a moan that was altogether too loud.

"Oh, oh fuck!"

"Language, Larson," she replied before resuming her previous pace.

This was wrong...so wrong.

"We...we should stop...," he whispered as his hips stuttered.

She looked up at him with questioning eyes, tongue working miracles around his swollen head. She seemed to ask if he really meant it without words, and even though the floor was hard, the air was cold and they were at risk of being caught any second, he couldn't truthfully say he did. His cheeks flushed with shame but he stayed silent, watching intently as she stole his innocence. Satisfied with his lack of response, she carried on with salacious moans that were barely audible above his own ragged breath and pounding of blood in his ears. Surely...surely someone could hear, but as his fingers tightened in her hair he realised that he just didn't fucking care. He was going to come and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He'd fill her pretty little mouth whilst a whole class of students stood only metres above him, none the wiser. And that thought was all took for him to fall into blissful oblivion.

[writing-intheundercroft]

Wreck My Plans - S. Sallow

AO3 Link

Word Count: 8,734

Rating: E (Smut, Oral Sex, Fingering, Pregnancy, NSFW, MDNI)

Summary: You try to share some life-changing news with Sebastian, but it seems he has other plans. Specifically, recruiting you to join one of his missions.

A/N: Auror Seb is back! I've been writing this one in the background for a while. Who was going to warn me that writing action sequences was hard??? Next one for auror Seb is a prologue to the series :)

“You’re sure?” You ask, swallowing thickly as you process the information your fellow healer has just told you.

“Very.” She smiles broadly. “By the looks of it, ten weeks or so.  You never noticed any of the symptoms until now?”

Your hand flies down to pet your stomach, and the tiny bump that now seems obvious.  How could you have not known?  

“I figured I was just hungrier,” you admit. “Tired from the transition to the day shift, adjusting back to the time zone after traveling.”

“Yes, well no more international travel for you.” the healer advises. “Not until the baby is born.  I daresay, you might not be traveling for quite some time, especially with a young babe in hand. How’s that house in Marunweem coming along?”

You’ve been bragging about your fixer upper for months now; Sebastian has really made a dent in the work, adding another bedroom and fixing up a porch on the backside of the house.  During the week, Sebastian is poised and collected, proving time and time again to his superiors just why he deserved the promotion to senior auror.  On the weekends, he has his sleeves rolled up, shirt unbuttoned as he hammers away at the wooden planks.

More often than not, you’re ripping his shirt off for him, or situated below him on your knees.  He works so incredibly hard for the two of you and the life he wants to give you; it's hard to keep your hands to yourself.

You start piecing together the timeline, what you’d been doing all this time; when you remember where you were at, you blush at the thought.  Ten weeks ago, you and Sebastian were in Sicily, enjoying your first real holiday as a couple.  He spared no expense, renting a palazzo from an Italian wizard he’d met through a contact in the department of international magic affairs.  You’d spent three glorious weeks by the sea, eating fresh seafood and exploring every inch of Sebastian’s body at night.  

“Sebastian!” You swatted at him.  

He grinned at you, his fingers plunged inside of you.  It was positively deranged the way he began fucking you with his hand, the seed he’d just spilt inside of you pushed further in.

“What?” he asked nonchalantly. “You did agree to have my baby a few months ago, if I recall correctly…”

Sebastian’s swollen lips descended upon yours, hungrily kissing you.  To your surprise, his thick length started to swell again, clearly aroused by your whimpering and the wet sound of his spend being manipulated, pushed even closer to its goal.

“You’re incorrigible,” You laugh against his lips as he situated himself between your legs again. The room was dimly lit, only deeply burnt candles illuminating the room you’d called home for the past few days.

“What can I say?” Sebastian whispered, teeth grazing your chin. “I’m insatiable for my fiancee.”

You took in a sharp breath when you felt the blunt head of his cock pressed against your heat again. “That’s the third time tonight,” you gasped as he slid into you with ease.  Your body knew who it belonged to–Sebastian was no intrusion. Your head tilted back against the pillows, moaning as Sebastian laved his tongue up and down your sweaty throat. 

“I don’t care,” Sebastian grunted, slowly rolling his hips against you. “Three–fucking–weeks–ungh, all I want to do is have you in bed, naked, for three whole weeks uninterrupted.”

You clutch onto him, teeth sinking into his shoulder as you flutter around him again. 

“Ma’am, are you listening?”

You blink out of your daydream, looking back up at your healer. 

“What did you ask?”

“I asked if you’ve been doing any strenuous activity lately.” The healer asks.

You turn bright red, brushing the back of your neck with your hand. You’ve been bedding Sebastian nearly every night, at least when the two of you aren’t exhausted from work or feeling ill.  Neither of you ever minded to track your courses, considering they’d been tricky after years of an off-kilter schedule at St. Mungo's. 

“I’ll take it easy,” you assure the healer, who doesn’t seem all that convinced. She lets you off with a blood renewing potion and some vitamins, and you leave St. Mungo's in a daze.

Your first instinct is to run straight to the ministry, barreling into Sebastian’s office with the news.  But on second thought, it’s probably news best saved for home–you’d rather not have the most important news of your life shared in front of his colleagues. Instead, you make your way to Diagon Alley to pick up supplies for dinner, stopping by the owl post office to send a note to Poppy.  You haven’t heard from her in a little while, but you know she’ll be over the moon when she reads the news.

All is well in your life, you think.  You’ll have to move the wedding up–Ominis and Anne have been insistent you wait until the next spring, once the frost has thawed and you can have a May wedding.  You’d really rather not host your newborn at your wedding, so late autumn will have to do.  Perhaps you can sneak away to Feldcroft for the weekend with a few friends in tow, take an unbreakable vow in the center of the hamlet–

“I’m home,” You hear a voice call out.

Dropping the ladle, you wipe your hands on your skirts as you rush to greet Sebastian at the fireplace.  Skidding into the living room, your smile falters when you see the gruff expression on his face.

“What’s wrong?”

Sebastian shakes his head, hanging his coat on the rack next to the fireplace. “Long day,” he mumbles, sliding past you to go straight into the bedroom.  You feel a bit deflated–Sebastian is rarely one to avoid your touch, but tonight is different.  You hear the bathroom door slam, the faucets turning as he fills the bath.  From what you can remember, Sebastian is only ever this grizzly after a bad day at work.  Either bad news on a case, a perpetrator that’s gotten away, or the most dire, losing a colleague. 

You tiptoe up to the bathroom, rapping your knuckles against the wooden door. 

“Come in,” Sebastian sighs.

You slip past the door, kneeling next to the clawfoot tub.  Sebastian is submerged in steaming water, bubbles dissipating in the water.  Work has been particularly stressful–he’s gone a few days without shaving, dark stubble coating his chin.

“What’s wrong?” you ask gently.

Sebastian lolls his head back against the edge of the tub, staring at the ceiling. “We’ve got a real pain of a case on our hands.” he mutters, tilting his head to look at you.  It’s an unspoken question, one that doesn’t need asking–he should know by now that nothing he ever shares about his cases ever leaves the four walls of your home.

“International dragon breeding ring.” He states, the water splashing as he pulls up his knees under the water. “Seems like they were trying to raise some Hebridean Blacks in the highlands.  Clearly didn’t know how to handle their dragons, so the crew was burnt to a crisp by the time we got there.”

“That’s horrible,” you shake your head.

Sebastian wrinkles his nose. “I never, ever want to see bodies like that ever again.” he gags. “The worst part is now that they’re all toast, we’ve lost our only lead to the larger gang.”

“I’m sorry.” you pout, stroking his hair.

Sebastian sighs. “It’s okay.  I’m just quite tired for the day; I had a sausage roll on my way home from the office, I think I’ll just tuck in to bed early tonight.”

He notices you visibly shrink, knitting his thick eyebrows together. “What’s wrong, pet?”

“I made dinner.” you say sheepishly. “Your favorite.”

Sebastian gives you a wry look. “I’m sorry, love.  Rain check?  I really do just want to get in bed.”

Sebastian can’t see the way your hand hovers over your abdomen under the lip of the tub.  And while you’re desperate to share the news, you’d rather do so when he’s in a better mood. The last thing you want is the happy memory of your pregnancy announcement being marred by troubles at work.

“It’s fine, really.” you assure him. “I’ll pack it all up so you can take it to lunch tomorrow, bring a bit for the boys.”

Sebastian snorts, beads of water dripping from his arms as he lifts them out of the water. “I’m sure Everett and Andrew will love that.  Those two rarely ever see a home cooked meal.”  

“I’m not sure what those boys would do without me.” you say sarcastically. “Ominis was right–I have to stop feeding them so often; they’re coming back week by week like stray cats.”

“Oh please, you love babying the two of them.” Sebastian rolls his eyes. 

The word has your smile faltering, and Sebastian tilts his head, giving you a sympathetic look.

“It will happen, you know.” he puts a hand under your chin, tilting it up towards you. “I know it’s upsetting that it’s taken this long, but it’ll all work out in time.”

“Oh, that’s not–”

“Perhaps we should wait until after the wedding,” Sebastian suggests. “I mean, that’s surely the more proper thing to do. Plan it out, do it the right order.”

You turn bright red, swallowing thickly; Sebastian really has no clue. “We’ve never been proper, the two of us.”

Sebastian lets out a low chuckle, eyes darting down to your lips. “No, I don’t think we have.” The pad of his thumb traces over your lips, slipping between them.

“Tell you what,” Sebastian breathes. “I finish washing up, and I meet you in the bedroom for a cuddle.”

“Something tells me we’re not going to be cuddling.” You raise an eyebrow, eyes darting down to Sebastian’s free hand, which has slipped underneath the water and between his legs. 

“No, we’re not.” Sebastian says, voice low and needy.  Your eyes flit down to the surface of the water, rippling with every stroke of his hand. “Get in the bed, now.”

You smile, biting down on your lip as you do what he says. After all, it won’t be long before two becomes three, so you want to relish these nights for as long as you can.

You wake up when Sebastian presses his lips against yours.  He’s never been very good at kissing softly–almost always, your fiance kisses you with enough fervor to wake you. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, nosing your cheek. “I wanted to kiss you before I left.  Got a message that I need to be in the office earlier than usual–all hands on deck.”

You open your eyes, blinking up at him.  He’s fully dressed in his suit, auror badge pinned to his coat pocket.  His work bag is at his feet, last night’s carefully wrapped leftovers next to it.  From the window behind him, you can see the sky is still black, a smattering of stars filling the sky.  It has to be four, maybe five o’clock in the morning.

“Send Everett and Andrew my love,” you yawn. “Tell them to enjoy the short rib.”

Sebastian snorts, mouth descending upon yours once more. “I’m starting to think you like them more than me,” he teases, nipping your lower lip with his teeth. “Have a good shift today.  I’ll see you at home tonight.”

You don’t follow Sebastian to the fireplace, instead electing to fall back into your bed for a few more hours of sleep before your shift at St. Mungo's. You’ll tell him tonight, you think, putting together the plan while you dress for the day.  Perhaps roast chicken and potatoes for dinner, and a cake with the good news on it.  You’re buzzing, eager to execute your plan once you’ve gotten home. So much so, you completely miss the owl sitting in the window, clucking at you while you hum over your cooking.

It’s only when the owl threatens to bite you that you pick up the note, deflating the minute you see the DMLE logo.  

Urgent case.  All hands on deck–we’ve been ordered to stay in the office until further notice; might be traveling internationally too.  I’ll send an owl when I know more. 

xx Sebastian

You shrug off your worries; this isn’t exactly unexpected. Given the high risk of Sebastian’s job, he’s often sequestered to the office or traveling for a case, sometimes days at a time. Perhaps the waiting will make your reveal all the more special.  You can picture Sebastian falling to the ground in front of the fireplace once you tell him after much time away from home.

After two days, you’re worried.  Come five, you’re irritated.  Ten days later, you’re thoroughly mad that this case has wrecked your plans.

It takes nearly all your willpower not to break down the doors of the auror office.  On the bright side, Sebastian knows well enough to reassure you of his good health via owl post. Per usual, he can’t say much, except that there had been a considerable development in their dragon breeding ring case.  He’s been bunking up with Everett and Andrew in the office (the two bachelors also sending thank you cards for the feast you’d cooked) and he’s quite miserable without your company.

Sebastian’s owl post gives you some peace over the miserable days, especially considering the onset of your morning sickness.  It seems that since your brain has accepted the concept of being pregnant, your body has decided to follow suit.  You’re lucky that there are plenty of other mothers working at St. Mungo’s beside you, each of them offering a sympathetic smile or a packet of crackers once you've emerged from the bathroom.

You’re just returning from a trip to the porcelain throne, wiping the corner of your mouth, only to hear your name once you pass the ward matron desk.

“Oi, ministry man is looking for you,” one of your fellow healers says, jerking their thumb back towards the ward matron’s desk. 

You whip your head around to see a sharply dressed man standing at the desk, seemingly annoying your ward matron.  He’s older and gray; there’s something familiar about his face.

It clicks–he’s Sebastian’s superior officer.

The blood drains from your face as you walk towards him, hands clenched in fists. “Can I help you?”

He says your name, bowing his head slightly. “Augustus Green, we’ve met before. You’re Sallow’s fiancee, aren’t you?”

“Is he alright?” you ask, panicking.  You instinctively press a hand to your stomach.

“Oh goodness, I should’ve started with that,” he admits sheepishly. “Sallow is fine, no cause for alarm.  I’m here to summon you for an appearance at the office.”

“Summon? Me?” you gape up at him. 

“All the information is here,” Green says impatiently, handing you a manilla folder. “And a letter for your matron to excuse you from your duties.”

It’s all a blur from there, the ward matron clicking her tongue disapprovingly when you hand over the letter.  With that task out of the way, Officer Green starts herding you to the closest floo flame.  It feels as if he’s got you by the back of your robe, pulling you into the green fire. You grip the manilla folder tighter, swallowing down the vomit in your throat.  Floo travel is safe while pregnant, but certainly not comfortable. 

When your eyes open, you’re standing in an unfamiliar office.  You know where you are though–the ministry, the DMLE office specifically.  The furnishings match Sebastian’s office, except this one is clearly larger.  There’s a woman organizing files in the corner, quickly standing to greet Officer Green on his return.

“Marlene, put a kettle on, why don’t you?” Green huffs, walking over to his chair. “And summon the task force team.  Meeting in my office.”

You cross your arms over your chest–it’s Marlene of all people, one of Sebastian’s former flings.  She gives you a phony smile, eyes flitting down to the diamond ring on your left hand.

Well, you suppose the crestfallen look on her face makes the trip to the ministry worthwhile. 

As Marlene passes through the doorway, a group of aurors makes their way inside.  A few unfamiliar faces, but then three of your favorites–Andrew Larson, Everett Clopton, and Sebastian.  Sebastian is giving you a proud grin, chest puffed out.  You haven’t seen him in nearly two weeks, and his once sparse beard is now growing thick.  It takes all of your self control to not throw yourself into his arms, relieved to see that your fiance is still well after being away for so long.

The aurors line up against the wall, awaiting instructions.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why we’ve asked you here,” Green states, folding his hands on his desk. “We’re assembling a task force team to work on a sensitive case. We normally wouldn’t operate on foreign soil, but considering the abductee is a British citizen–”

“Pardon, abductee?” You interrupt. 

“Yes, details will be in your briefing.” Officer Green states, pointing down to the folder in your hands. “Our officers have spent the last few months tracking the smaller units of an international dragon breeding ring.  They’ve gotten sloppy since we’ve started apprehending their top breeders, and have since retreated to their home base in Norway. A British citizen has been abducted by the ring leaders of the operation, likely due to her expansive knowledge on Norwegian Ridgebacks.  Miss Sweeting is a well known magizoologist–”

Your throat goes dry, and for the first time in days, your stomach is churning from anxiety, not from morning sickness.

“Miss Sweeting was abducted from her home–sign of forced entry, her wand and personal effects were found littered throughout the property.  Our auror department has uncovered evidence that leads us to believe the criminals are keeping her on hand with the dragons to provide guidance in their breeding efforts.”

Officer Green carries on. “The task force comprises several of our best aurors, some of which were classmates of Miss Sweeting and have a personal interest in her safety. You were recommended to join the task force by Officer Sallow,” Green continues. “Considering your relationship to Miss Sweeting, and experience with dragons in the past.”

You blink at the senior officer, mouth agape. “But I’m only a healer, sir.”

“A healer will be extraordinarily important for a mission like this,” Green points out. “With the imminent danger–”

“You saved half the department once,” Andrew Larson blurts. “Rather have you on our team if we’re facing dragons and dark wizards in one go.”

The room dissolves into nervous giggles as Green swats at Andrew.  Sebastian, however, is completely unphased, smiling at you as if he’s signed you up for a field trip, not a mission across international lines to save one of your best friends.  If Poppy wasn’t the one in danger, you probably would’ve wrung his neck by now.

“As I was saying before Mr. Larson so rudely interrupted,” Green rolled his eyes. “We need a healer on the task force. We will pay you for any days missed at your regular shift, and a bonus upon return.  That, and all accommodations in Norway–”

“I’m sorry, Norway?” you ask, dumbfounded.

“Yes, where we believe the perpetrators are keeping Miss Sweeting to assist in the breeding of their dragons.” Green interjects, tapping the briefing folder again. “We have a portkey scheduled to depart in an hour. Please review your folder beforehand.”

You hardly listen to the rest of the briefing.  The rational side of your brain is screaming at you to tell the truth–you’re pregnant, the healers just said to limit international travel, and you hardly think you should be jumping into battle with a dragon breeding ring in your condition.  Is portkey travel even safe during pregnancy?  

Your thoughts scream at you as Green dismisses the room; before your brain even registers movement, your feet are scuffling towards Sebastian’s office. He’s standing at his desk, two large duffle bags side by side. You shut the door with trembling hands.

“I took the liberty of purchasing some things you’ll need,” he says cheerfully, digging through the bag. You hold out your arms as he pushes a pair of trousers and a shirt into them. “Some wool stockings and your base layers, it’ll be cold, that’s for sure…” he trails off.

“Sebastian,” you swallow thickly. “Sebastian, I–”

“I’m sorry if this is coming across as a surprise.” Sebastian shucks off his jacket, unbuttoning his shirt. “That, and for being gone for so long.  It was all hands on deck with the case; I’ve been bunking up in here with Larson and Clopton.  You have no idea how badly I want to be home.” he groans, slipping a new undershirt on.

Your brain is frazzled. You want to be angry at him, to be worried, but your heart is thumping in your chest.  It’s been too long since you’ve seen him, and you’ve been worried sick.  Your body’s first instinct is to wrap your arms around him and inhale his familiar scent.

Sebastian laughs when you do so, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I know, Pet. As soon as this is done and dusted and we’ve got Poppy home, things can go back to normal.” he murmurs against your hair.

You nuzzle your face deeper into his chest, inhaling his cedar cologne. “Are you sure this is safe?  I'm not in dueling shape.” you admit sheepishly.  In your youth, you would’ve charged into combat headfirst without warning–years of working in St. Mungo's has you untrained.

Sebastian laughs, his beard tickling your face. “Safe? You’re the best duelist I know–besides myself, of course. You’ll be fine.  Besides, we mostly need you for healing purposes.  That magic of yours works a trick on burns.  Remember–”

“In the Undercroft, when you accidentally blew up a barrel of mead.” you snort at the memory.  It hadn’t been funny then, watching Sebastian writhe on the floor from the burns.  You’d fallen at his side, instinctively using your ancient magic to siphon the pain. He was healed in a matter of seconds, and it set you on the trajectory to become a healer.

“Precisely.” Sebastian licks his lips. “That, and to be with Poppy. I’m sorry, I wish I could have told you sooner, but we weren’t allowed to say.” He pulls a wand from his desk–Poppy’s wand, white ash wood with a swirling handle–and presses it into your hands. “You should hold on to it, for safekeeping.  You can give it to her once we rescue her.”

You look up at his chocolate brown eyes, lids dotted with freckles.  You want to tell him–you need to tell him–

“What’s wrong?” Sebastian pouts. “You’ve always said you wanted to come to work with me.”

You open your mouth, trying to find the words, but you can’t.  You’ll be fine, you think.  What’s one more trip?  Besides, you’ll do anything to ensure Poppy is safe.

“I don’t like your beard.” you blurt.

Sebastian roars with laughter, rubbing his jawline. “I knew you’d hate it; Clopton and Larson were egging me on to grow it out.  I don't have a razor here; I promise I’ll shave it when I get home.  Now, come on, let’s get you dressed all warm and snug. We've got a portkey to catch.”

“I’m sorry–I thought I had your size memorized.” Sebastian mutters, helping you unlace your corset.

You wince, a low hiss coming out from your lips as you let the offending garment fall to the ground.  Assessing your torso in the blurred mirror, you can see lines from the whalebone pins left in your skin.  Your hand instinctively rubs over your stomach silently apologizing to the babe inside of you for being squished all afternoon.  

“The portkey couldn’t just drop us off here, at the inn?” You complain, slipping one of Sebastian’s clean shirts over your head.  

“We couldn’t draw attention to ourselves, you know that,” Sebastian tuts. “Besides, I thought you enjoyed hiking?”

“I enjoy hiking when it's planned.” you groan, falling back against the bed. “Almost thought I’d ask Andrew to cart me up the mountain.”

Sebastian starts unlacing your boots, letting the heavy shoes fall to the floor.  Your woolen stockings are peeled off next, laid out next to the fireplace to stay warm.  He carefully unlaces and works your trousers off your legs, draping them over a stool.  

“I am sorry.” Sebastian says, climbing into bed next to you.  Your muscles are sore, legs like jelly after the long trek.  Knowing this, he pulls your legs into his lap, working his thumbs into your calves to massage them. “I thought it might be fun.”

You snort. “Fun? Sebastian, we’re on a mission to find Poppy, who's been taken hostage by dragon dealers. That hardly sounds like fun.” Your head falls back against the pillows, which have definitely seen better days.

“I know, but they were looking for a healer to join the force, and I knew you were the right person.” Sebastian reminds you, nimble fingers moving down to massage your sore feet. “Besides, it’s kind of fun to work together, isn’t it?  Reminds me of the good old days.”

“Ah, yes, the good old days.” you parrot back to him. “Us, running like vigilantes around the highlands. Stealing bounty from old chests, blasting away at acromantulas.”

“What can I say?  We were spirited teenagers.” Sebastian chuckles.  His fingers slow, making deliberate circles in the arch of your foot. “I wanted us to have one more good adventure before we settled down, got married.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows, raising an eyebrow at him. “We won’t have adventures after we’re married?  Thanks for the vote of confidence.” you jest.

“You know what I mean,” Sebastian shrugs. “After we’re married and we’ve got kids in the house, we’ll be boring old parents.” he wrinkles his nose. “Might as well bank up a few good stories for the children while we still can.”

Your smile falters. “Do you really think we’ll be that boring?”

“We’ll have to be, won’t we?” Sebastian sighs. “I’ll probably take some time off after the baby is born, of course.  And when I’m back to work, I’ll ask to be reassigned to low risk cases.  So, in the meantime, I’ll enjoy all the tough stuff while I still can.”

You should tell him.  You really do need to tell him.

You don’t.

He sounds so glum, trading in a life of adventure and danger for nappies and lullabies.  Perhaps his interest in fatherhood was just spurred by the renewal of your relationship. It makes sense that he’d start thinking more clearly now that it’s been nearly a year together.  Merlin, maybe he’s already bored of the little life you’ve created together–the house on a hill, far from the bustling city.  The logical side of your brain reminds you that Sebastian loves you, dotes on you, hand and foot (quite literally, the man is still massaging your feet).  Yet the irrational side of your brain, likely flooded with pent-up hormonal energy, reminds you that he hasn’t been home in days . 

“You still love me, right?”  Gods, the words sound pathetic coming out of your mouth.

“Of course I do.” Sebastian’s eyes widen. “How could you think otherwise?”

“It’s nothing.” you say quickly, waving him off. “Just a stupid intrusive thought.”

Sebastian clicks his tongue, pushing your legs from his lap.  You stay, perched on your elbows, watching him move in between your legs. With a mischievous smile, Sebastian picks up your foot, pressing a kiss to your ankle.

“Then it seems I’ll have to work extra hard to put those thoughts to bed,” Sebastian whispers lowly.  His tongue laves circles up your calf, eyes trained on you while his mouth moves up, up, up your thigh.

“You colleagues are in the other room.” You croak.

“We have magic, don’t we?” Sebastian teases. “ Silencio should do the trick, unless I’ve made you forget basic spellcasting.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, trying to hide the laugh bubbling in your throat.

It’s against your better judgment, but you reach over to the side table to grab your wand.  Flicking it at the door, you mutter the silencing charm under your breath.  The room suddenly feels like a bubble, no noise from the outside world permitted in, and vice versa.

“We can’t go crazy,” you whimper as Sebastian takes a deliberate lick, pressing a kiss to your center. A moan slips from your mouth, head crashing against the flat pillows. “We have to wake up– oh, yes, right there –ugh, Sebastian, we have to wake up early.”

Sebastian grins, teeth grazing your skin lightly as he presses a languid kiss to the crease of your thigh. “I won’t keep you awake too long.” he promises, before diving back between your legs.

Sebastian knows you–almost a little too well, you think.  Somehow he knows the sex you need is tender and soft, his hips rocking into yours while he whispers how much he missed you, how he longs to come home to your bed.  His hand ghosts over your abdomen, but you quickly pull it up to your lips, pressing soft kisses to his worn knuckles. When he comes, face buried in your neck, he can't stop telling you how much he loves you. It isn't long before Sebastian drifts to sleep, lightly snoring against your skin with his arms wrapped around you. His beard tickles your shoulders, but you’ve missed him too much to push him away.

You flick your wrist at the candles, quickly extinguishing the fire.  With only pale moonlight streaming in through threadbare curtains, you pull the blankets up to your neck, focusing on Sebastian’s steady breathing.

Steady. Unwavering (except the time that you broke up…well, he’s more than made up for that by now). Dependable, devoted. Sebastian is going to make the most amazing father. You shut your drooping eyelids, reassuring yourself that Sebastian will be excited when you finally get to share your news.

“I'm freezing.” you spit out, shivering from the cold air.

“We’ve been waiting for hours,” Everett complains, recasting an anti-fogging spell on his glasses. “Larson should’ve made contact by now.”

“We have to stick to the plan,” Sebastian bites back. “Larson was to make contact with the dealers, send a signal leading to his location.  If he didn’t by sundown, we’d abandon the post and go back to the inn.”

While Sebastian had kept you busy the night prior, Andrew had gone undercover.  Your sweet Ravenclaw friend is unassuming, and quite the actor it seems–he reported at breakfast to say the breeders had given him coordinates to a meeting point, where he’d be given the opportunity to purchase a Norwegian Ridgeback dragon egg. Poking at his poached egg, Andrew assured the group that he’d send a patronus signal for back up once he’d identified the location of the operation.

Waiting for Andrew’s signal is excruciating, the better half of the day spent sitting around a now nearly burnt out campfire. You were pacing back and forth in the snow, drumming your fingers against your throat.  While you’re sure Andrew can hold his own (he has for years now, Sebastian tells you–a surprisingly astute duellist, much improved from his days in Crossed Wands) you hate the idea of your cheerful blond friend being alone.

Sebastian stands up, brushing snow from his pants. “It’ll be dark soon,” he muses. “We should start heading down to the inn soon.”

Your eyes widen. “And leave Andrew?”

“Andrew is an auror, Pet.” Sebastian reminds you. “One of our best.  He’ll be just fine getting down the mountain on his own.”

“If he needed back up, he would’ve called by now.” Everett tries to assure you, wiping his fogged up glasses again. “Gosh, I hope we’re only here another day or so–I fear my chomping cabbages are dead by now, I’ve been away from home for too long.”

“We can’t possibly leave him,” you gasp, stomping your foot in the snow. “I won’t allow it.”

Sebastian opens his mouth to argue with you, but clamps it shut when the sky darkens.  

“Take cover!” he roars, grabbing you and tackling you to the snow.  You gasp, curling into him as he rolls you behind a collection of boulders. In seconds, Everett has joined you.  His mouth is hanging open, staring up at the massive dark spot soaring above you.

“Sweet mother of Merlin,” Everett gasps. “Is that–”

“A Norwegian Ridgeback,” Sebastian grunts, tucking you in tighter to his chest. “A young one, based on the size, but still dangerous.”

Peeking over Sebastian’s shoulder, you can see a young dragon soaring overhead.  You can see the cracked collar, chains hanging from its neck. The poor beast is clawing at the collar, a high pitched squeal coming from its mouth as it flaps its wings. When its jaw opens, you can see the flames curling up from the back of its throat.  Sebastian backs into you, an arm curling around your waist to keep you shielded from the heat. 

“Protego!” you hear a familiar voice scream. 

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Sebastian spits out.  He peeks around the boulder, eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets as his jaw falls open.  You stand to sneak a peek, equally shocked at the sight before you.

Andrew is running, bloodied with gashes in his clothes.  His blond hair is matted down and you’re not sure if it’s from blood or melted snow.  Wand extended, Andrew casts a shield charm to protect himself from the fire and waves of green curses.  His arm is looped through a short brunette’s, her wrists bound in goblin-forged silver cuffs. It’s Poppy, who is yelling at Andrew to avoid hurting the young dragon. Several breeders are chasing after them, firing curse after curse on Andrew’s heels. 

“A little help here!” Andrew roars, waving his arm the second he spots his colleagues.

The aurors break into action with little hesitation. Sebastian and Everett waste no time sprinting towards their partner. It feels like you’ve barely had a second to blink before the flashes of red and green start clashing around you.  Sebastian jumps to avoid a well-aimed shot, rolling to the ground before firing a countercurse at his attacker. His hair is covered in powdery snow, cheeks red from the cold as he fires off a defensive spell set.  You watch him, mouth agape, barely registering his voice calling out your name. 

“Get Poppy out of here!” Sebastian hollers. “Both of you, before the dragon circles back!”

Right, you think, shaking out of your stupor.  You run, feet slowed by the snow, towards your friend.  She grabs your hands as soon as you reach her, staring at you in a panic.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Poppy shrieks.

Over her shoulder, you can see one of the breeders teeing up a spell.  With ease, you raise a boulder from behind him to knock him down the hill.  In doing so, you’ve drawn attention to yourself, the other breeders realizing that you’re a bigger threat than anticipated.

“Here for you,” you assure her. “Come on, let’s go.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Poppy panics. “I got your letter, the morning they broke into my flat–”

“That’s the least important thing right now,” you screech, firing off a countercurse; the rebound is so strong, both of you are nearly knocked off your feet.

“But the baby!” Poppy shouts. “This isn’t safe!”

“Now is hardly the time to be scolding me,” you argue, panting as you channel your ancient magic to disintegrate one of your attackers. “The baby will be fine, I’m more worried about you!”

“What the bloody hell are you two talking about?”

Now you’ve really let the cat out of the bag, you think between spell combinations. You pause in place, braid whipping through the wind, to see Sebastian staring at you across the way.  His eyes are as wide as saucers, blinking rapidly as his mouth opens and shuts.

“Congratulations, guys!” Everett yells sarcastically, glasses now fully fogged from the fighting. “Think we can discuss this another time?”

“You’re pregnant?” Sebastian shrieks.

“I’ve been trying to tell you,” you pant, dodging a curse, “but you’ve been gone, I only just found out the day before you left–”

“We have to get you out of here!” Sebastian panics, running towards you from across the field. “You’re pregnant!  This is unsafe!”

“We don’t have time for this conversation!” You roar, casting confringo on the poachers drawing near.

“Careful with the heat, it’ll be bad for the baby!” Sebastian chides, but you roll your eyes.

“You got me into this mess, Sallow!  Both messes, I might add.” You say through gritted teeth.  It’s true–he’s the one who got you pregnant in the first place, and then volunteered you to join a covert mission. Honestly, you might find his rapid shift in attitude hilarious if you weren’t being rained down upon by flames and curses.

“We had sex, is that bad for the baby?” Sebastian asks. “For him? Or her?  Oh Merlin, what if it’s a girl–”

“I’m sorry,” Everett raises a brow, sidestepping a diffindo that had been thrown his way. “The two of you were shagging last night when we were supposed to be preparing for a mission?”

“You two are disgusting!” Andrew spits, casting stupefy on his assailant. 

“Can someone please figure out a way to get me out of these cuffs?” Poppy roars, shaking her still shackled wrists. “And does anyone have my wand by any chance?”

You curse under your breath, wiggling Poppy’s wand out of your too-tight breeches. She grasps her wand with both hands, wincing as you channel your ancient magic into snapping the metal.  Her wrists are rubbed raw from spending weeks in chains, but she shakes them out as she reacquaints herself with her wand.

The sky goes dark again; the dragon circles in the air, flapping wings causing the entire battle to cease while everyone braces in the snow.  

“You need to get out of here,” Sebastian hisses. “I’m begging you–”

“And leave you here, with this lot and the dragon? Absolutely not.” you snap. “The father of my child needs to see another day.”

“Hello!” Everett screams. “There’s still a fight going on here, if the two of you haven’t– ouch !”

Both of you turn your heads to see Everett laying in the snow, groaning.  One of the breeders is stomping towards him, twirling his wand in hand.  Nostrils flared, you push Sebastian aside and aim your wand.  With barely even a flick, the man is thrown back against the snow, a disconcerting crack ringing through the air.

Not your boys , you think.  You plan to see all of these aurors back to London, alive and without injury.

“Poppy,” you yell, firing basic casts at the approaching breeders. “Can you secure the dragon?”

“Working on it!” Poppy’s voice is muffled, her wand between her teeth.  You can see her, your little firecracker of a friend, trying to scale the rocks to get closer to the dragon.  As the country’s leading expert on dragons, you hope she’ll have the dragon under control before long. She’s babbling towards the beast, cooing reassuring words as it snorts steam.

“Bertie, calm down.” You hear Poppy cluck at the dragon, her hands held high. “It’ll be alright–”

Andrew, who has foregone his wand, punches one of the breeders squarely in the nose. Shaking his hand out, he turns back to Poppy. “Bertie? Bertie, who you were droning on about while I was trying to rescue you, is the damn dragon?” he yells. “The one who was trying to kill us just a bit earlier?”

“I was alone!” Poppy shrieks back. “You try being alone with just dragons for two weeks, you would start naming them too!  And he was not trying to kill us, he’s just afraid–”

“Shut up!” Sebastian hollers. “Can you two behave?”

Sebastian is shouting at both Andrew and Poppy, and doesn’t see the breeder approaching from his left.  His arm is raised, a knowing smirk on his phase as he brandishes his wand at your fiance. Sebastian is too preoccupied with scolding his subordinate to notice the flickering red tip of the breeder’s wand, teeing up what you can only imagine is the cruciatus curse.

You don’t have time to shriek.  Instead, you feel your anger bubbling up through your fingertips, the telltale signs of your ancient magic starting to spill from your hands.  You’re running, wand arm raised, about to attack when you feel the wind knocked out of your lungs.  Your body betrays you, losing balance as you crumple to the snow with no control.  There’s a sharp ache in your head, ears ringing as you try to make sense of what’s going on. As if life is stuck in slow motion, you see a sizable boulder plop into the snow next to you.

A fucking rock.  You’ll be damned if you let a rock take you out.

Trying to stand, your knees buckle beneath you.  The sharp ache in your head starts pounding, and you can’t stop blinking your bleary eyes. Fingers grazing your temple, you’re shocked at the slippery sensation on your fingertips.  Droplets of bright red dot the pristine white snow, and despite your fuzzy vision, you can tell that it's your own blood on your hands.  

“Oh, shit.” you slur.

It feels like you’re underwater (a sensation you know well from the Keeper’s trials during your fifth year).  Things are slower, soupier almost.  You can see Sebastian’s head turn when another auror shouts at him, and he narrowly misses a flurry of red bolts aimed at him from one of the attackers.  Skidding in the snow, Sebastian fires a counter curse that knocks the breeder off the edge of the cliff.

Someone is shouting your name, and Sebastian turns his head.  You think you’ll remember the look of horror on his face forever, a twisted grimace as he dashes towards you.  You want to sit up, but your body says otherwise–your head is pounding, and perhaps it’ll feel better if you sleep.  Sebastian is patting your cheeks with cold hands, repeating your name like a prayer as you hear the commotion ensue behind the two of you.

“Stay with me,” Sebastian pleads. “I’m sorry–”

You don’t hear anything after that. 

When you open your eyes, you’re in St. Mungo’s.  Specifically, the intensive care unit, your own ward.

“What the hell?” you mumble, leaning up on your elbows.

“Oh thank Merlin, you’re awake.” Sebastian sighs with relief.  You turn to look at the brunette next to you–his head is in his hands, dark waves unkempt and tangled from sleep. His beard is the longest you’ve ever seen it, shaggy and uncombed. After taking in a deep breath, he launches himself to your bed, fingers pressed against your pulse.  Once he’s determined that you are in fact well, he presses a firm kiss to your forehead.

“Is the–”

“The baby is alright,” Sebastian smiles. “Healers have been checking on you two probably twice an hour for the last two days.”

“Two days?” you gape. “I’ve been out for two days?”

“It was a nasty hit.” Sebastian shudders. “I was so worried about you, I haven’t been able to sleep,” he admits.  The chair next to you has become his little nest; bundles of blankets are tossed on the floor, a hospital grade pillow squished into the back of the chair.

“What happened?” you wince as you sit up. Sebastian immediately places more pillows behind your back, handing you a cup of water from the night stand. “Is everyone alright?”

“Everyone is alright,” Sebastian assures you. “Everett broke his arm, but that was quick to mend.  Andrew looked like a champion prizefighter, that’s for sure.  I think he likes the black eye, he thinks it makes him a bit more popular amongst the ladies at the pub.”

“And Poppy?” You ask between gulps. Merlin, you really must have been out for two days–you’re positively parched.  Before you can set the cup down, Sebastian casts aguamenti and you’re happily sipping once more.

“Safe and healthy.” Sebastian promises. “Let’s just say Bertie the dragon really bonded with Poppy while they were imprisoned together.  He made quick work of the breeders.”

You blink at your fiance, brows furrowed as you try to make sense of his comment.  When he bares his teeth and clicks his jaw open and shut, you cover your mouth with your hands.

“He ate them?” you gape. 

“Well, it was us or the breeders.” Sebastian scoffs. “Better them than me.”

“I suppose that’s why the dragon was chasing after Andrew,” you muse. “He thought Andrew was trying to kidnap Poppy, not save her.”

“Spot on.” Sebastian laughs. “Speaking of, there are some people who’d like to see you.”

The door opens, and your friends spill through the door as if they’ve been waiting right outside the entire time.  The normally stoic Anne runs to you, clutching your forearm. Ominis stands over her, pressing a long kiss to the top of your head.  

“I can’t believe the two of you.” Ominis shakes his head. “Battling a dragon in the first trimester.”

Sebastian furrows his brow. “Hey–I wouldn’t have asked if I’d known.”

“And I would’ve gone regardless.” You declare, pulling Sebastian’s hand into your own.

Andrew, Everett, and Poppy file into the room after your sister and brother-in-law. Everett has his arm in a sling, while Andrew still looks like hell.  Poppy has a few bandages on her hands, but she easily slides down at your side next to Anne.  The brunette girl gives you a teary eyed smile, mouthing her thanks.

“First mission and you get taken out by a damn boulder.” Andrew laughs.  His knuckles are bruised and cut, black eye starting to go green around the edges. “I thought you’d be an asset to the team, but you ended up a liability.”

“Oh shush,” you wave him off, pressing your hand to the soft edge of your belly. “You needed me.”

“That we did,” Everett says softly, squeezing your hand. “Thank you.  I would’ve been clobbered off the cliff if it weren’t for you.”

“I can’t believe you volunteered to come along pregnant.” Andrew blurts. “Are you insane?”

“It was for Poppy.” You admit, winking at your favorite magizoologist. “I’d do anything for her.”

“Well, I must demand that you start relaxing.” Poppy declares. “You shouldn’t lift a finger for the rest of your pregnancy.  If Sallow volunteers you for any missions, Bertie will take his head–you have my word.”

“Rest assured she won’t be doing anything but relaxing from now on.” Sebastian says firmly, crossing his arms. “I’ve already had a discussion with the ward matron about your leave of absence–”

You hold your hand up. “Sebastian, I’m not going to stop working. You know that.”

“You’re going to take a few weeks off to rest,” Sebastian continues. “Trust me, the matron told me they’ve had enough of your puking.”

You lick your lips, eyes roving the room as you take in the scene.  It’s all of your favorite people in one room, the people your child will know best.  You imagine your child growing up with them–visits from Aunt Poppy and her wild beasts, dinners with Andrew and Everett. You swallow thickly imagining Anne and Ominis doting over your newborn, and tears begin to prick at the corners of your eyes.

“Are you tired?” Sebastian’s voice brings you back down to ear, his gentle murmur in your ear.

You nod, squeezing his hand.

“We’ll all be off, then.” Ominis announces. “Anne and I will get started on planning your elopement.”

You wipe at your eyes, which are now properly tearing up. “You don’t need to plan our wedding.” You let out a watery laugh.

“You’ll have the best wedding.” Anne assures you. “Certainly better than ours; I still remember Sebastian’s dates fighting on the dance floor–”

“I think that’s a story for another time,” Sebastian interjects hastily. “My wife is tired, she should get some rest.”

The motley crew files out of your hospital room, each promising to follow up with you in the days to come.  Ominis has to practically tear Anne away from you, your sister-in-law spouting questions about wedding cakes while her husband pushes her out the door.  He winks an unseeing eye at the two of you, his best friends, before the door clicks shut.

Immediately, Sebastian is climbing into your bed, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“We’re having a baby.” Sebastian says softly, his large palm flattening over your belly. “You’re having our baby.”

“We’re having a baby.” You echo, turning to him in the bed.  The hospital beds at St. Mungo’s aren’t big by any means, and Sebastian will have a backache if he sleeps with you–but it doesn’t look like he’s planning on going anywhere.

Sebastian’s eyes are trained on you, hungrily taking in every detail of your face. “I can’t wait,” he garbles out, eyes watery. “You’re giving me a family.  Gods, I’ll never be able to make it up to you.”

“Make what up to me?” You ask gently, pressing a palm to his cheek.  Tears start streaming down his face, sniffling his freckled nose.

“For everything . Dragging you into a mission with a fucking dragon,” Sebastian laughs. “For tackling you on the mountain. Being gone for nearly two weeks, not giving you the opportunity to tell me.  For wasting so much time–for not making you my wife earlier. Merlin, if I hadn’t been such a bonehead five, six years ago, things could’ve been so different–”

You press a fingertip to his lips. “I won’t have them any other way,” you whisper. “I’m so happy. You’re happy, aren’t you? You’re not upset?”

Sebastian laughs harder, shaking his head. “I couldn’t be happier. I’m going to be a father.” he says gleefully. “How could I possibly be upset?”

You chew on your lower lip. “The night I meant to tell you, you said something about us waiting until after the wedding. And at the inn, you seemed so worried that we’d be boring once we had a baby. Rather thought I was ruining your plans for us.”

Sebastian shakes his head. “I can't believe I ruined the surprise.  Darling, I was being an absolute cad that night; I can't believe I didn't see it coming.  You'd made my favorite dinner, and I turned it down for a sausage roll.” he says dramatically, shaking his head. “And I’m sorry about what I said at the inn. Pet, you and I could never be boring. Not while we’re together.”

“And you’ll be okay getting married earlier?” you ask nonchalantly, drawing circles on his chest. “Even if it wrecks our plans for a spring wedding?”

“I’ll marry you tomorrow if you let me.” Sebastian murmurs. “Fuck the plans. The only thing that matters to me is our family.”

You pull Sebastian into a hug, face nuzzling into his beard. He’s whispering into your ear–promising to shave his beard, to finish the flooring in the second bedroom as soon as he’s back home. He’ll take a few weeks off now that this case is over, and perhaps he’ll apply for low-risk cases now that he’s a father. He talks about your wedding, about how you can still get married in the center of Feldcroft if he can conjure enough tents.

Your eyelids are drooping, head resting against his chest when you think back to the topic of weddings. 

“Earlier when Anne was talking about her and Ominis’s wedding–you had two dates?” you ask sleepily. “What was that about?”

Sebastian lets out a roar of a laugh, pressing his lips against your hair. “A story for another time.  It’ll make you laugh, I promise.” he assures you. “I’ll tell you when you wake up.”

You nod, shutting your eyes.  Tucked into Sebastian’s arms, you fall asleep against his chest.

[sincericida]

Andrew Garfield for The Glass Magazine (October, 2021 | 📷 Michael Schwartz)

[bi-bard]

Jonathan Larson Songs That Describe a Relationship with Peter Parker - Peter Parker Imagine [The Amazing Spider-Man (2012)]

Title: Jonathan Larson Songs That Describe a Relationship with Peter Parker

Pairing: Peter Parker X Reader

Word Count: 2,930 words

Warning(s): Peter's commitment issues/past trauma, mention of potential break-up

Summary: Three songs by Jonathan Larson that would describe a relationship with Peter Parker [The Amazing Spider-Man (aka Andrew Garfield's Peter Parker)]

Author's Note: I am so fucking funny.

**Not intentionally written in chronological order**

--------------------

Johnny Can't Decide

Johnny has no guide Johnny wants to hide Can he make his mark, if he gives up his spark? Johnny can't decide

I had grown used to just finding Peter in my apartment.

At some point, I just started to expect it more than anything. Whether he used the key that I gave him or the window into my bedroom, it was normal for him to be there.

What wasn't normal was to find him looking through my computer.

"Peter," I said, furrowing my eyebrows. "What are you doing?"

"What's this," he asked, pointing at the screen.

I walked over but stopped when I could fully focus on the screen. My heart dropped as guilt washed over me.

"(Y/n)-"

"They're apartment listings," I answered.

"These aren't in New York," he pointed out. "You want to leave the city completely?"

"I... I've been looking at jobs," I shrugged. "I started looking at places to move if I get the offer."

"Why," he asked. "I thought you liked it here."

"I did," I replied. "For a long time. But these last few months... they've been pushing me to leave."

He turned in my chair fully. "When were you going to tell me?"

"I was hoping to tell you once I got an offer, but... I don't know if I would've."

"What?"

"I know that you wouldn't want to leave."

He scoffed. "You couldn't know that-"

"Peter, you love this city. You love being Spider-Man. I would never ask you to leave it. Spider-Man has been in your life a lot longer than I have."

"You didn't even ask me."

"So, you would leave? If I asked?"

Peter paused.

I saw the weight of the choice actually setting in.

He would be leaving the city that he loved. He would either have to give up being Spider-Man and face being accused of not caring about the city, start protecting a different city and still be faced with the same accusation, or find some way to kill Spider-Man without getting himself killed.

"I want to be with you, Peter. I love you," I said. "But I won't let this be some reason you resent me later. I won't do that."

"You're leaving," he asked. "No matter what?"

"I think so," I replied.

I never told him about the fear that sat in my stomach every night when he wasn't there.

Whether or not he was on the news for his actions, I knew that he was out there. He was dealing with threats that the city wasn't aware of most of the time. I would sit up and wait for him. When I'd hear the familiar thump on the fire escape outside or- on rare occasions- hear the door open, I'd lay down, slow my breathing, and pretend that I had fallen asleep hours ago.

Whether or not he ever believed my little act was a mystery.

And I wasn't just leaving because of that. It just made me less hesitant.

"I'll leave the choice to you," I explained. "You can think about it. Whatever you want is fine. But I am leaving. Your choice is just whether or not you're going with me."

He nodded. "Okay."

I walked forward and kissed his cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too," he muttered. "Do you... Do you want me to leave?"

"Up to you," I shrugged. "I won't be hurt if you don't want to stay here tonight."

"No, no, I want to," he said. "I want to be here."

"Okay," I smiled at him.

I know that he didn't fall asleep that night. Mostly because I didn't either.

I think we both pretended to in the hopes of comforting each other. As some silent sign that everything was okay. But it wasn't. We both knew that there was this impending end on the horizon. We knew that everything between us had shifted and was going to continue to shift.

Realistically, I couldn't imagine Peter choosing me over his work here. I knew that I was fighting a losing battle.

But I don't know if that made it easier or harder to cope with.

Another Day

The heart may freeze Or it can burn The pain will ease If I can learn There is no future There is no past I live this moment as my last

I never thought about how bad I could be at reading signals.

I hated making assumptions about people's feelings, but there were a few moments when I was certain that I was right.

Like now.

Peter and I had been friends for a while. We had grown close. I developed feelings for him far faster than I wanted to admit. It just felt so easy with him. He was funny and smart and sweet. He felt too perfect to exist, but I couldn't find the drive to search for some flaw in the image.

I should've. Maybe that would have helped me in the long run.

He had come over to my place after work one day. We had both been talking about this movie that we wanted to see and I had found it on DVD. It almost felt like fate pushing us into the same place.

I was coming back from grabbing the pizza that had been delivered to find that Peter had disappeared. I furrowed my eyebrows set the pizza down and looked around.

I found him standing in my small hallway, looking at the pictures that I had on my wall.

"Peter?" I said.

He looked over at me. "Sorry."

"Don't be," I shook my head as I walked over. "If I didn't want them to be looked at every once and a while, then I would've hidden them."

He chuckled. "They're nice... the pictures."

"Thanks," I grinned. "My mom sent me a whole bunch when I first moved out. Something about keeping me close to home in a way."

"She sounds nice."

She would have to be to listen to me talk about you as much as I do, I thought. "She is."

Peter just nodded.

"She actually had them already printed out," I chuckled. "Something about knowing that I wouldn't stick around."

"Always running?"

"No, no, just running here," I corrected. "I wanted to be in this city for as long as I can remember. I always had some semblance of what I wanted for my life. I just sometimes have trouble acting on what I want."

"I see," he replied, looking at me. "And what exactly is it that you want now?"

I paused for a moment. I had a thousand thoughts jumping around my mind, but all of them trailed back to him. It felt silly. Ridiculous.

But then, I looked back at him.

I couldn't explain it, but there was something. Something just behind his eyes that made me feel like my thousand thoughts weren't as ridiculous as I thought they were.

I slowly stepped closer to him. I hesitantly leaned closer to him, waiting for some sign to fill the gap or pull away and act like it never happened. I couldn't find either. I stopped, maintaining just a few inches between us.

"We shouldn't," Peter muttered. He didn't pull away. He just let the words hang in the small space between us.

"Why," I asked, also not moving. I had been craving this moment for too long for that.

He paused as if trying to make up some excuse that satisfied him as much as it did me. "Work."

"Work?" I chuckled a bit at the answer.

"People will talk," he explained. "And if we don't work out, it could get so much worse."

"I'm okay with that risk," I shrugged. He didn't respond. He didn't pull back or talk or anything. "Life is simply too short to spend all of our time worried about every single thing that could possibly go wrong."

I leaned forward, nose brushing his.

"I want this... with you. And if you want it too, then I see no reason for us to hide from it."

I saw something. In his eyes. There was something that he wanted to say. Something sitting on the very edge of his tongue that he couldn't force out. Something that would make the moment too scary or too real.

I just watched his eyes jump from my eyes to my lips.

"Peter," I muttered.

He hummed back.

I leaned in and closed the remaining distance. I wrapped my arms around him as he kissed me back.

It was a few moments. A matter of seconds before he pulled away again.

I furrowed my eyebrows are he stumbled back from me. "Peter?"

"I... I need to go. I need to leave. I'm sorry."

"What," I asked. "I thought... I thought that we were..."

"I'll see you at work tomorrow," he muttered.

"Can we please just talk about this, Peter-"

"No!" he snapped. "There's... There's nothing to talk about. I'm leaving."

"Peter, wait-"

"Bye."

The door slammed behind him as he walked out. I felt my heart drop when it did. I felt like I should have heard it based on how fast it fell.

I wanted to follow him but I just couldn't. I just had to stand there with this sudden realization that everything that I thought was wrong. Every feeling that I was convinced had been shared was wrong.

It was a scary thing to think about.

I took one huge risk and it backfired greatly.

And now, I had no way to fix what I had broken.

As far as I was concerned, I had just lost Peter forever.

Swimming

Out, don't think Out, out, let it out Keep the shoulder down, down Easy, not too hard Find the movement's origin

I hadn't always been used to seeing Peter sitting on my fire escape in his full Spider-Man gear.

In fact, the first night that it happened, I almost shit myself.

I hadn't known about Peter's true identity. It had been a matter of days since he had rejected me outside my door and run away. I didn't know why at the time. I was still hurt and just trying to accept it. I couldn't force him to change his mind or process his grief faster than he was.

I just had to accept that I had no control over the situation. The only thing that I had control over was whether or not I would wait for him.

I had decided not to. I knew how my mind worked. If I stayed in contact with him, then I would just be reminded of the hurt every day. I would never be able to move on.

So, I ignored him.

If he noticed or cared, then he did a very good job controlling himself. He never confronted me. I took that as a sign.

I had just gotten back from work, entirely exhausted both physically and emotionally. I threw some stuff onto the table before going to walk back to my room and get ready to shower.

I switched on my light and looked out the window, only to find something looking back at me.

It took me a moment to recognize it, but anyone who had been watching would know the Spider-Man mask when they saw it.

The figure picked up its hand and waved at me. Then, it motioned for me to open the window.

I slowly reached over and grabbed the letter opener that my dad had insisted I own. I had no proof that this was the real Spider-Man and not some psycho in a fake suit. I would've been convinced by the mere presence on my fire escape, but if it was someone from my building, they could probably find a way there.

To put it simply, there were too many risks.

I walked over to the window and paused when I got there.

The figure motioned for me to open the window.

I paused for a moment before leaning forward and letting out a puff of air so the window fogged up a bit. I did my best to write 'Why?' backward.

The figure seemed to laugh and shake its head at me. I thumped the window as a way to tell it off.

After holding its hands up for a moment, it looked around and moved to pull its mask off.

I was met with Peter's face. My eyes went wide as I scrambled to push the window open.

"Lead with that," I scolded him.

"Sorry," he replied. "Can I come in?"

I moved so he could climb inside. I pulled the window shut again and locked it. It was strange to turn around and see Spider-Man standing in the middle of my room. Weirder when it felt like it was just Peter's head on Spider-Man's body.

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

"Just don't sneak onto my fire escape-"

"It's not about the fire escape," he cut me off. "I meant about everything. Pushing you away and lying to you. You deserved answers and I was too much of a coward to actually offer those to you."

I took a moment to collect my thoughts. "This is your explanation for rejecting me... being Spider-Man?"

"Well, there's a bit more to it than that."

"How am I supposed to believe the initial information?"

Peter sighed before sticking out his arm. I jumped as something shot right by my head and stuck to the wall behind me.

I looked at it for a moment before reaching out to touch it. I cringed a bit at the texture and shoot my hand back. "Gross."

"It's not meant to be pleasant," he replied, dropping his arm.

"Okay... what's the rest of your reason?"

"Gwen," he explained. "We were together for a while. She knew about... this. She was trying to help and then... I couldn't save her. I tried. I did. But she fell and I didn't catch her in time and she... she died in my arms."

I felt sick to my stomach. I felt like I was forcing him to tell me all of this. It was wrong of me to demand information that he didn't seem ready to tell me. I was going to stop him, but he didn't let me get a word in.

"I pulled away from everything for a while," he continued. "I... I stopped pulling my punches. I just... It felt like I just went dark. For a long time. And then... I met you. It felt like I was returning to normal.

"When we kissed... I just... I thought of every single way that I could get you hurt."

I took a deep breath. "Then why come back here? Why tell me this?"

"You were avoiding me and I was scared and- and confused and... all I wanted was for us to be okay but I didn't know how to fix it. I- I only knew that it was my fault. And then, I was out tonight, working, and I couldn't think of anything but you. You and how I messed things up and how badly I needed to talk to you. I was just constantly reminded of you."

I didn't have a response. There wasn't one that would explain my thoughts or say something that I hadn't already said or feel like I wasn't being disrespectful about everything that he had just told me.

Peter stepped forward, slowly reaching out to cup the sides of my face. His thumb traced my cheek as his eyes jumped around my face.

"I... I want you. I want to be with you," he muttered. "I just knew that I couldn't admit that without being completely honest with you about everything."

I didn't feel physically able to respond until I felt his hands pulling away. I frantically reached up to hold them in place. I stepped even closer to him.

"Kiss me," I murmured. He didn't react for a moment. "I... I'm willing to deal with all of this... with anything that comes with this. I just need to know that-"

I was cut off by Peter leaning forward and pressing his lips to mine. I slowly kissed him back, my hands moving to his sides. I felt a smile creeping onto my lips as the kiss continued.

Peter pulled back first.

"I'm sorry," he said. "For everything."

"I forgive you," I mumbled. "I promise."

He slowly smiled back at me.

I leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek, hearing a heavy sigh escape him as his shoulders finally dropped and his muscles relaxed. I leaned back again, feeling his hands move down to my sides.

There was a small pause.

"Can I start with the dumb questions now," I asked quietly.

"Sure," he chuckled, nodding at me.

"The webs... where... where are they coming from?"

He tilted his head back for a moment as he laughed. "That's what you want to know?"

I nodded.

"You could ask any question that you want... and you ask that?"

"It's a very good question."

He nodded. "You're right."

"Are you gonna answer it?"

"In a minute..."

I furrowed my eyebrows at him. Another chuckle escaped him before he leaned forward and kissed me again. Once I realized why he was avoiding my question, my eyes fluttered shut.

And with each passing second, I could see myself accepting every ounce of danger that could possibly come after this moment.

All of it was worth it as long as I got to be with him.

--------------------

Author's Note: Not gonna lie, "Swimming" feels like it's the story that follows what was actually inspired by the song.

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[itstopplingdomino]

WIP Tag

Thank you for the tag @myst867! Juggling between university classes, personal life and an alter ego in the internet is a tough thing, and I'm sure most agree TT I will be listing them in order of priority too!)

List the titles your top five priorities for WIP updates (link your fics for new readers!)

An upcoming scene, event, or detail in each fic that you're looking forward to writing

Bonus: make a poll for your followers to vote on which top 5 WIP they are most excited to see an update on!

Then tag 10 writer friends

Titles

Untitled (coming soon) - I made a promise to write a short fiction based on how I feel after taking my test. Reader thought of Andrew Larson as a person who keeps himself; probably arrogant about his intelligence too. But in a make-up test session, reader learnt that he's actually the complete opposite.

Burning Desire - Supposed to be one chapter one-shot in celebration of Valentine's day, but I am working on the second (final) chapter. Garreth Weasley realises he has romantical feelings for reader just as Valentine's day is nearing.

Paper Bird - A potion product mishap causes reader to replace negative words into its kinder version. First part is posted, but I gotta finish up the second part.

Falling (you say i'm wise beyond my years) - Based on Isabela LaRosa's Older. Aesop Sharp has many secrets - and you are one of them. It's not explicit but it does have mature themes.

Tolerance - Just an intrepretation on how certain Harry Potter characters would react when they find out you're hurt (and doesn't seem like it from the outside). Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here. Part 3 and onwards are on the way!

Mainly Hogwarts Legacy universe and all is x reader pairing, all except 4 is minor-friendly (just be warned of mild cursings). It just so happens that these two weeks are packed with tests and assignments, so I'd be active to lurk but too exhausted to write. I gotta get back on writing as soon as the urgent big stuff in life is dealt with.

Upcoming Scenes, Events, Details

Untitled (coming soon) - We're at a point where reader's perception of Andrew will be changed. I think I would be done and ready to post this by this week (most likely the weekend).

Burning Desire - As soon as Garreth realises he has feelings for reader, he decides to act on his feelings but here comes the light angst. Let's just say, I love misunderstanding trope <3.

Paper Bird - Fred Weasley's redemption arc, basically. He will do everything to make ammends.

Falling (you say i'm wise beyond my years) - Upcoming chapter will be all about hurt/comfort, supportive figure, and generally fluff. Considering the first two chapters were playing on pining on reader's side and growing sexual tension (is reader imagining it..?), I want to write something a little more in-depth and platonic.

Tolerance - I've got to be honest; I am actually stuck on this. It's Ron's reaction and I couldn't decide which reaction would suit him best.

Please forgive me for tagging you TT Genuinely interested in your current progress of your works!! @applinsandoranges, @cuffmeinblack, @ravenelyx, @imtheslayeraskmehow97, @arthenaa.

One thing I realised from doing this tag game is that I need to have a masterlist. When will I get around doing that? We shall see. I gotta figure out Tumblr better first XD

[hufflegruff]

Chapter 4: A Knowing Look

Pairing: Sebastian x F!Reader Summary: In which Sebastian is whipped and literally everyone can see from a mile away that this is more than friendship.

“Is that… a mistletoe?” “It… must be Anne’s doing.” Was all Sebastian could say, rather lamely. He was ready to laugh it off. Tell her that it was just a silly little old thing. But to his surprise, she replied almost matter-of-factly: “… Supposedly if we don’t kiss, we’d be doomed to 100 years of misfortune.” Almost cautiously, he replied, “We wouldn’t want that.” “Not at all,” She said as she nodded.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | AO3 Link

Chapter 4: Anne

Winter fell upon Feldcroft. Snow descended upon the Sallows’ home in soft billowy mounds.  

Sebastian had never really understood the appeal of Christmas. It was always too cold, too dark and too stifling to just stay at home. Under Solomon’s roof, he never let himself feel too comfortable. Not even the guise of mulled cider, plum pudding and ornately decorated pine trees could make him put his guard down. He much preferred the freedom of Hogwarts endless hallways. If not for Anne - well, he frankly wouldn’t have bothered to make the trip over. There was little joy to reap or use to gain from seeing Solomon’s irritable face.  

But despite Solomon’s numerous shortcomings, he allowed him to invite both of his best friends over for Christmas. And for that, he was grateful.

Glancing over to the kitchen, he couldn’t help but soften and break into a smile at the sight. Under the glow of the dim candlelight, Ominis and Anne were chatting merrily. 

Ominis normally looked so stoic, like an old man that held the entire weight of the wizarding world in the crease of his brow. That was the blight of the Gaunt family name. But as he sat listening to Anne, who was animatedly retelling one of her classic tales of misadventure, his expression was as light as a feather. Even with his perfectly pressed shirt and impeccably neat cardigan, it was such a relief to see that he could look like an ordinary teenage boy. 

And Anne… Well, Anne had her good days and bad days. Thankfully, today was one of her better ones. She’d been particularly energetic as of late. Despite Sebastian’s protests, she went out of her way to decorate the cottage with wreaths, tinsel and candles galore. Insisting that guests should not be subjected to Christmas in a house so bare.

He hadn’t seen either of them look so content in a while. Not since they were just three kids scheming mischief in the Undercroft. Not since they’ve become three weary people weathered by fate’s hand. 

The normalcy of it all gave him newfound hope. One that felt different from the kind of hope had him hunting ancient relics, ravaging the restricted section, and burning dark wizards ever since Anne got hurt.

This one was softer. Much quieter and warmer. 

Just for today, he would graciously allow himself not to worry. Not of curses or cures or hidden scriptoriums. Just Christmas. Just family and friends.

Anne’s voice broke him out of reverie, “Sebastian! What are you daydreaming about? Come here!” She beckoned him over with a wave of her hand.

“Probably best not to know,” Ominis said, “likely something despicable or unlawful.”

“Funny.” Sebastian said dryly, as he made his way over to them, “Utterly hilarious.”

“I am rather, aren’t I?” Ominis replied cheekily.

“If slander is your particular brand of humour.”

“Forget presents,” Ominis’ voice was laced with sarcasm, “Your endless wit is the greatest gift you could ever afford me.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. The mouth on this one.

Sebastian looked around the room and noticed that there was one person sorely missing. Their absurdly lovely (it’s all still very complicated) friend. After the whole Andrew Larson ordeal, he conceded that it was possible that this whole friendship thing… could potentially be more than a friendship thing. 

It was a crush - a flight of fancy. On someone who just happened to be a beautiful, smart and wickedly talented friend.

That was the only way that Sebastian could rationalise it. Crushes were perfectly normal and frivolously fleeting. Calling her a softness, or a fancy or even the object of his affection was all still manageable. It was better than the alternative. Because if he were to start calling it anything more than that… 

Well, that could be perilous.

Love had consequences, and Sebastian wasn’t sure if he was ready to face them.

The girl wonder had also been staying with them in Feldcroft these past two days. Sebastian had only been back at Feldcroft for two days and Anne had already been making terribly sly remarks his way. How could she have known? Had she and Ominis been exchanging letters behind his back?

He supposed that practically half of Hogwarts had already accused him of being infatuated with the girl wonder. But in fairness, the prying eyes of the student body had been privy of his relationship with her for the better half of two years. It made him wonder if he was being so obvious that perhaps even Solomon could sense it too.

That would be mortifying. 

And honestly, after the emotional whirlwind he’d already been on — Sebastian didn’t know how it could get any worse.

He cleared his throat, “Anyways, where’s the girl wonder gone to now?”

Anne shot him a mischievous look that Sebastian knew meant trouble. It was too devilish and deliberate to ignore, and it felt like Anne could see right through him. What was she plotting? Sebastian raised a curious eyebrow in response. 

Anne replied with a shrug, “She’s just gone to the room to grab something.”

And as if it had been planned meticulously ahead of time — the door creaked open and the sound of her footsteps approached.

He turned around and almost made an ungodly sound at the sight. A wrangled, pained sound that he was frankly quite embarrassed to acknowledge. Because this — whatever this was — was something he hadn’t been expecting. 

“Is that my sweater?” Sebastian swallowed thickly.

The girl walked out of the bed chambers in an old green knit sweater with a small embroidered flower on the left corner that looked all too familiar. There was nothing spectacular about it, but Sebastian knew without a sliver of doubt that it was his sweater that hung a little too loosely on her shoulders. Because as most nine year old boys did with their clothes, he had bought it dismissively when he was in Diagon Alley, and wore it to death in his youth. It had been chucked carelessly across fields, caves, bodies of water all across Feldcroft. It was tattered, frayed and looked worse for wear from his haphazard use.

So how in Salazar’s name did it manage to look so damn good on her?

There was nothing precious about it. 

But it was his. And she was wearing it. 

Sebastian was of two minds about it all. He couldn’t quite decide it himself — was this a gift or divine punishment from the Gods? Where had she even found the old blasted thing and was she actively trying to kill him? The niggling urge to touch her was stronger than he had ever felt before. His self-restraint was melting with every second longer his eyes lingered on her. The only thing that was holding him back from holding on to her (and never letting go) was the ridicule he’d most definitely receive from Ominis and Anne.

To his dismay, to the deep sickly pit in the bottom of his stomach — this was very likely something that would be permanently etched into his mind. There was something primal inside the diabolical crevices of his brain that just couldn’t unsee it. Some unhinged line of thinking that his brain managed to conjure up to justify it all. That if she looked this perfectly right in his clothes, he could believe that there was a universe in which she could be his.

That if people could be owned (he knew they couldn’t) — she would be rightfully his.

“Oh, I figured you wouldn't mind,” Anne said, “She was feeling a little chilly, so I gave her one of your old sweaters. You hardly wear it now anyways.”

Almost nervously, the girl wonder gave a small twirl, “Well, it doesn’t look silly on me does it?”

Silly? Sebastian thought. It was a little silly. 

It was silly that the sight of her in his old, worn and beaten sweater that he’d worn to death, made his heart scream out of his chest. How was it possible that she could even make scraps of wool look so bewitching?

It was as if being the wielder of a rare form of ancient magic hadn’t sufficed her hunger for power. It was as if she went out of her way to contrive her very own beguiling brand of magic that would render him a total fucking dunce. How else could Sebastian explain the prickling in his fingertips to reach out to her? Or the compulsion in his chest to bury his face in the crook of her neck? And that stupid sweater must’ve smelled like him. Years and years of him. By that logic — because she was wearing it — that must mean she now smelled like him too.

And the thought of that was almost too thrilling for his chest to handle. 

Merlin. All this overthinking was a testament to the steely grip this witch had on his heart.

Despite his inner turmoil, he just about managed to choke out a response.

“Not at all. It suits you.” 

It more than suited her. In fact if she never wanted to take it off — he’d gladly allow it.

Ominis gave him a pointed look. Anne smiled knowingly. Sebastian wanted to hide. He felt as if his innermost feelings were being paraded on display. Like his internal organs and his blathering heart had been sprawled across the dinner table for everyone to witness. The only person that didn’t seem amused or even remotely aware of his pining was her. She looked at him so sincerely that it was almost distressing. Delightfully doe-eyed, she smiled brightly at his compliment. 

It was so fucking endearing that he had to look away. Any longer and would probably combust on the spot into a fan of pitiful flames. Or collapse from this corny infatuation-induced arrhythmia his heart was suffering from. So he turned to look at Anne scathingly instead. 

“But thanks for asking before you raided my closet, Anne.” Sebastian said chidingly.

Anne smiled mysteriously, ignoring his accusatory tone all together.

“I was being a courteous host is all.” She said innocently.

Sometimes Sebastian forgot how conniving his sister could truly be. He couldn’t decide whether he was annoyed or proud of her shenanigans. 

The girl wonder, sensing something off in Sebastian’s tone, interjected, “Anne was just trying to help. But I can put on something else if you’d prefer—”

“No.” Sebastian said firmly, “You don’t have to. I don’t mind.”

From afar, he heard Ominis snicker.

Ominis was likely calling Sebastian all sorts of embarrassingly belittling names in his head. But that seemed unfair. How was Sebastian supposed to tell her that he would in fact mind it very, very much if she took off his sweater — without sounding like an utter fool? 

“Thank you.” She said with a smile and his heart was beside itself.

In fairness, he supposed that Ominis had been right about one thing. 

Sebastian was a fucking sap.

“I can’t help but picture a young, petulant baby-faced Sebastian running around the house causing all sorts of mayhem in this sweater,” she said full of mirth as she wrapped her arms around herself, hugging the sweater in glee. Never had he been jealous of a sweater before. That was new.

“Come off it,” Sebastian retorted, “I’ll have you know I was never a petulant child.” 

Ominis piped, “Never? That’s odd. You’re still perfectly petulant to me.”

“Okay someone put Ominis on a time out please.” Sebastian said grouchily. 

The girl wonder laughed. And like a shot of healing draught down his throat, the sound of it washed away the irritation in the nooks of his taut body.

As she linked arms with Ominis, she said “Come Ominis. I’ll save you from Sebastian’s wrath.”

They retreated into the kitchen, getting plates to help Solomon set up the tables for dinner. With burning eyes, Sebastian watched as they walked away, feeling listless tied to the ground that he stood on. Anne stayed firmly beside him, as if she’d been waiting for this moment to corner him all evening.

“I saw that.” Anne whispered.

His heart leaped, “Pray tell, sister, exactly what you saw?”   

“Oh,” she said coyly, “Just the terribly soppy looks you were giving our friend.”

“Oh.” Sebastian said, almost sounding resigned.

Anne raised an eyebrow, “That’s all you have to say?”

“Well, frankly you’re not the first person to say that to me. So I can’t really give you much points for originality,” He replied dryly, belligerent thinking about the long list of friends (and frenemies in Leander’s case) who had already informed him of his affections towards her.

“Hmm, yes. Ominis did mention something about that,”Anne said.

So Sebastian had been right. They had been exchanging letters. He supposed that there wasn’t much point in denying it anymore. While it was true that he could admit to himself that he cared for her deeply, he hadn’t confirmed it verbally with anyone else. Not even Ominis. 

But maybe it would be cathartic for him to just… say it out loud. To hell with it all.

Maybe this would be a good time to start.

“I guess there’s not much to contest when it’s the truth.” Sebastian tried to say as casually as he could, despite the palpable weight of what he was so blatantly saying. 

Almost gleefully, Anne shrieked, grabbed onto his shoulders and shook him manically, “That’s so very sickeningly endearing for you to say. Who are you and what have you done to my terribly cynical brother?”

He groaned “I don’t know. It’s disgusting isn’t it?”

“Are you in love with her?” Anne squealed as she asked excitedly, ignoring Sebastian’s state of emotional turmoil entirely.

Love? He had wanted to yell. Or throw up. He’d been trying his damn hardest to avoid the word, and now Anne had just thrown it into his face. It had already taken so much out of him just for Sebastian to concede that this could possibly be more than friendship; that this was a romantic affliction. But love? That was a whole other degree and department of troublesome feelings. Love was severe. Love was drastic. Love was a steep curve for him to climb.

Also had Anne forgotten that she was sitting literally right there? In the next room? That she could easily overhear?

With a slight hiss, Sebastian motioned for her to pipe down, “Be a little more discreet would you? Also that’s a little strong. I wouldn’t quite call it… that.”

“Well, then what would you call it?” Anne asked inquisitively.

What was it? That was the ever-complicated question, wasn’t it?

“A crush.” He said simply.

“A crush?” Anne said with a laugh of disbelief, “No way. That brief … whatever you had on Violet McDowell in 2nd year, that was a crush—”

“—God, don’t remind me—” Sebastian said with a grimace at the embarrassing flashback.

But Anne paid no mind as she continued.

“— But this? The way you look at her. The way you speak of her — No matter which way you put it, I don’t think there’s anything else you can call it.”

Sebastian almost took offence at that. Because there had to be something he could call it that didn’t feel so treacherous. That didn’t make him feel like so suffocatingly he’d been backed into a tight corner. 

“It’s… complicated.” He replied lamely.

“Sebastian it’s not like you’re trying to decipher an ancient form of magic,” Anne said sarcastically with a roll of her eyes, “It’s just a feeling. It just is or it isn’t. Boys truly are hopeless.”

Sebastian resented that.

“I resent that. It’s not that simple. I’m figuring things out.”

What was the rush anyway? To figure all this out? Love… or whatever this was, wasn’t something to take lightly. He never imagined that Anne would’ve been so frivolous with the word. If anything, he thought that she’d be telling him to tread carefully, not throw caution into the fucking wind. Wasn’t it decidedly worse to say such things so carelessly? To say something that he didn’t mean? 

And if Sebastian was sure of anything, he knew that the girl wonder didn’t deserve anything less than the truth.

“Well you might want to figure things out a tad faster.” Anne said as if to warn him.

And that instantly set off a spiel of alarm bells in his cluttered mind.

“Why? Did she say something to you?” Sebastian said almost in a panic.

“I mean, look at you, Seb. You’re getting frazzled from speculation alone!” Anne exclaimed, as if he’d just proved her point  “No, she hasn’t said anything to me. But do you really want to leave it long enough and risk her being whisked away by someone else?”

Sebastian had recently learned that he absolutely detested that idea.

He learned that he would sooner claw his ears deaf than ever have to endure her being taken away by anybody else.

Not that he had a right to be so dramatic about it, of course. Because people couldn’t be claimed – even if he wished dearly that they could be so. Because she was her own capable witch that had her own fair share of suitors vying for her affection, and Sebastian was (at least at the moment) too cowardly to do anything about it. Because even after all the mental mountains he’d already scaled to admit how fucking enamoured he was by her… he still couldn’t bear say the word love alongside her name. 

But still. Beyond any rational reason he hated the thought of her being with anyone else with an infuriating passion.  

“No.” He admitted.

And maybe that meant Anne was right. 

He had to get his shit together.

“Then, dear brother of mine — a word of advice. And I’m saying this because I love you a stupid amount,” Anne said with a firm pat on his shoulder, “Girls don’t wait forever.”

Dinner had been lovely. They’d been fed all the works; from roast ham to mince pies to Christmas pudding. Sebastian had been surprised that Solomon had brought out all the bells and whistles for them. He couldn’t remember the last time that they’d had a meal so lavish in their humble abode. It must’ve been years. But he gathered that it very likely had to do with their special guests. 

Since Solomon and Anne had done the majority of the heavy lifting with cooking dinner for them, he felt that it would only be fair that he should be the one to endure the surly task of doing the dishes. Which had left Anne gaping in total shock because she knew how fervently Sebastian hated doing the dishes.

“Okay, now you’re truly scaring me. Are you an imposter? Or an impeccably crafted clone?” Anne had teasingly said.

But to his delight (or his horror) the girl wonder had offered to help him.

So that was how Sebastian found himself in the dim kitchen candlelight, standing so closely to the girl that had been plaguing his every thought for the past few weeks. The girl that had been running amok in his tiny, addled brain. His shoulders brushed hers as they did the dishes in the sink. Like the sizzle of fire on an oiled pan or a gulp of caffeine, every little bump made him feel jittery. And there just was something so deeply domestic about this that filled his head with giddiness. 

The smell of soap and sea sponges. The crackle of the fireplace. The muffled chatter from the living room. Her in his sweater. Her sleeves pushed up to her elbows. Her gloved hands. Her furrowed brow. Her smooth hair swept back in a clip. 

Her in his home. 

As she washed and wiped the dishes, she sang a pretty hum from her lips. It sounded folksy and merry and absurdly lovely in the lilt of her voice — but he didn’t recognise it. He deduced that it was likely one of those muggle tunes she loved so dearly. And he made a mental note to ask her about it when he was less distressed.

It all suddenly felt very dangerous. Largely because of how easily Sebastian could see himself accepting this as a permanent fixture in his life. How easily he could get used to all of this. And he wouldn’t need to be convinced by any means or measure. In fact he’d grovel, pray, beg whatever god or infallible wizard he needed to make this regular occurrence. A taste of this homeliness was enough for him to fold like a cheap suit. 

It was appalling at how a tiny taste of mundanity was enough to devoid him of his wit.

“So…” she began slyly, “Anne told me an interesting story about you and the Neighbour’s garden.”

He felt himself go stiff, because that cloying tone of her voice did not sound good at all. What on Earth did Anne think that she was doing? God what on Earth did he think he was doing? 

“Something about how you ran stark naked around your neighbour’s garden after a little bender down at the pub? ” She said almost all too innocently. He was shocked at how she managed to say such wicked things with such innocuousness.

He groaned in despair. That was not a story that he had ever wanted her to hear.

“Merlin. You need to stay away from Anne.” Sebastian said brusquely. 

“I thought you wanted us to get along?” She said coyly.

His heart jumped. He swore that he could hear a hint of something wicked in the underbelly of her voice. Was she flirting? Because this certainly sounded like flirting.

And if the shivers that ran down the back of his spine was any indication, it sure fucking felt like flirting too.

“Yes, but not at my expense, obviously.” Sebastian said flatly.

“Where’s the fun in that?” She said with a mischievous glint in her eye.

Fun? Merlin this girl would be the death of him. It was supposed to be Sebastian who flustered her; who said cavalier things that made her blush feverishly and rendered her speechless. It had always worked with the village girls down the stream, or the barmaids in Hogsmeade. But with her — the one girl where it truly mattered — it had never been the case. 

Here she was rendering him a total dunce, and all it took was a coy smile. All this time, Sebastian had thought that she’d been doing it unintentionally. But maybe she’d been doing it more deliberately than she’d let on. And if that was the case…

He wouldn’t survive it.

“You’re becoming more despicable with every passing day.” He retorted wittily, with just enough mirth to appear charming, but not too much as to leave him feeling exposed.

“I did learn from the best.” She replied pointedly and shrewdly.

Admittedly, he felt his chest swell with pride at the idea that she’d learnt it from him.

But before he had the chance to retort, she caught him off guard with a dose of sincerity.

“Thank you for letting me come over this Christmas.” She said quietly, to a backdrop of the running water tap and the clinking of ceramic plates.

She was thanking him so earnestly. And Sebastian wished he could take credit for it. Pretend that he was totally selfless in inviting her into his home — but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it would be wrong. 

The girl wonder had made it known to him early in the year that she had planned to stay in the castle over Christmas. And when she had first mentioned it several months ago, Sebastian had felt restless — but at the time, he hadn’t known why. 

After months of emotional whiplash, it was safe to say that he now had a clearer idea. 

“Couldn’t let you stay alone in the castle, now could I?” Sebastian said.

“I mean you could’ve.” She joked.

He couldn’t have. He wouldn’t have. But how else was Sebastian meant to explain that without confessing some degree of his despairing devotion to her? How was he to explain to her that actually, she was doing him this favour? By being here, with him, in the dim corner of his childhood kitchen light. How else was he to explain to her that if she hadn’t, even if she stayed by herself in the hallowed halls of the castle, he’d still be the lonelier one between them?

He couldn’t. So he needed to keep it brief.

“No,” he said surprisingly sincerely, “I really couldn’t.”

And all of a sudden, the weightless atmosphere that once pervaded the room was now gone. The muffled voices from the living room became soft. Even the soreness in his fingers from all the dish-washing dulled. What was left was only the sincerity in his voice now. He hadn’t intended to sound so… honest, but he guessed that she naturally brought it out of him. 

He could only hope that he hadn’t… totally freaked her out.

He turned to look at her, to say something either aloof or wildly charming — but he soon realised that it was a grave mistake. Because suddenly, he was looking right at her, and she was looking right at him. And with one measly look, Sebastian’s chest felt tighter and the air felt thinner.

(This was happening so often, really — you’d think that he would’ve been more accustomed to it all by now.)

Her eyes flicked up to something above them that had caught her attention; but Sebastian couldn’t bring himself to look up — or care in all honesty. Too enraptured by the magnetic pull of her eyes. 

But the next words she uttered out of her lips, he couldn’t have ever ignored: 

“Is that… a mistletoe?” 

Sebastian almost wanted to laugh. Because surely, he had to have misheard.

Because a fucking mistletoe?

But alas, magically above them, a mistletoe sat. In all its almost mocking, prickly glory, a mistletoe was perched on the edge of the hanging kerosene kitchen lamp.  All of a sudden, blood was rushing in his ears, drowning out the rest of the room. All that he could hear was the thunderous pounding thump of his relentless heartbeat banging against his eardrums. 

When Sebastian realised that he hadn’t spoken for a while, he racked his tiny anxious brain for something meaningful, charming, or at least coherent. 

“It… must be Anne’s doing.” Was all Sebastian could say, rather lamely.

Was this Anne’s idea of helping him move along? To make it all go a little faster? Because if that were true, this was the most insane plan he’d ever heard of. And Sebastian was normally the mastermind behind the most ludicrous and most asinine of plans — so trust that he could spot one a mile away.

If he hadn’t loved his sister so dearly, he would’ve banished her out to the neighbour’s cottage for the rest of the night for all the emotional strife she was causing him! If he were to die young from all the heart palpitations this meddling was sure to give him — he’d vow to haunt her endlessly for eternity.

Because coercing the girl that he… had very strong feelings for… into kissing him would not bode well on his conscience. Or his ego. Or his delicately constructed sense of self-worth. In fact it would rather bruise him if she were to kiss him out of some sort of misplaced obligation.

No matter how heavenly he knew it would probably feel.

Sebastian could feel himself literally teetering on the brink of perilous precipice; between what he could do next… but also what he should most definitely not do next.

This was all feeling too loud and too radical for him to bear. How did kissing her suddenly factor into this equation?

… But as if by wicked instinct, his gaze dropped down onto the curve of her lips — and he absolutely loathed himself for it. 

Gods, wouldn’t it be nice to kiss her?

(Another one of those absurd, intrusive thoughts of his.)

He was ready to laugh it off. Tell her that it was just a silly little old thing. Some outdated conventions. They didn’t have to go through with it. In fact, they could spare themselves the embarrassment and never speak of this ever again if she willed it so. 

To his surprise, she replied almost matter-of-factly:

“… Supposedly if we don’t kiss, we’d be doomed to 100 years of misfortune.”

Like a slow sinful poison, he felt his body go numb in shock. Like a match to a barren wick, he felt his mouth go dry. Had he heard right? 

Was she implying what he thought she was implying?

Almost cautiously, he replied, “We wouldn’t want that.” 

It was true, he wouldn’t want that. 100 years of misfortune wouldn’t do him any good in trying to court the girl before him.

“Not at all,” She said as she nodded.

So it was only logical that they had to kiss.

“100 Years is… a long time,” He rationalised.

He almost couldn’t believe the words tumbling out of his mouth. 

“A lifetime long,” She agreed.

Forget what he was saying — why was she encouraging this?

“And I suppose it is tradition,” He justified.

“Right. Tradition.” She clarified.

When she’d put it like that, it seemed entirely sensible. Almost as if doing anything else would be totally irrational. Sebastian normally skewed towards irrationality, because what was life without a little bit of unreasonableness… 

But if she was readily weaving this enticing thread of logic for him — he would obediently surrender to her pull.

Sebastian waited for the punchline. The cruel joke. For her to say she was, “just kidding, of course!” 

But even after what felt like aeons of silence — it never came. He wondered if she could read him. If she knew that he was all unbridled nerves and anticipation in this lanky body of his. All he saw was her, looking straight at him. No distractions, just a firm sense of purpose. And he wondered what was behind her eyes. Was she nervous? Because he was fucking nervous. 

Why didn’t she look nervous?

A lull fell over them, and it was as if they’d reach an impasse. As if it were a silent agreement between two precarious souls.

“So I guess-” He began.

“Right.”

He supposed that was confirmation enough. For him to press on. To take the next step.

But what was the next step? This didn’t come with a fucking manual. How was he to go about kissing the girl that had plagued his every waking thought now that she was all but offering it?

He supposed he just had to take it.

So he did.

He took a daring step forward, and he swore that he could see a slight tremor in her throat. It was tiny, almost imperceivable, but honest to god, it helped him breathe a little. Because it meant that maybe she wasn’t so unbothered by this treacherous proximity as she appeared to be. 

When he looked at her closely and scrutinised every crinkle in her eye, he saw a sliver of something he hadn’t seen before. Something familiar. Like the flicker of a yearning and restlessness he saw so often in himself. In the rounds of her cheeks, he could make out the outline of a growing blush, betraying the effect his closeness had on her.

With every passing second he inched closer, Sebastian could feel something growing inside him. Breaking out in the pit of his stomach like turbulent waves. A feeling he knew would only be quelled if he managed to get his mouth onto hers. Until he knew what every inch of her lips tasted like.

Was he really about to do this?

Sebastian was still holding onto the dishes in the sink. But fuck the dishes. He didn’t have the time to put that shit down. He’d carry the weight of every stupid dish, cup or ceramic bowl if it meant that he’d be able to touch her.  

“Merry Christmas Sebastian.” She whispered.

And what a lovely whisper it was.

Before her hands ever touched him, her voice did. It embraced him everywhere; his arms, down his spine, even in the unknown depths of his heart. He felt his chest melt a little with something warm and soft and so, so pleasant. In this moment, he allowed himself to believe it. Believe that maybe he could be in love with her. Maybe he was already knee-deep in it; buried thousands and thousands of feet below the weight of his burdensome feelings.

And that this love wouldn’t kill him. It wouldn’t hurt him. It wouldn’t be wrong or scary or restricting.

He could love her and still breathe.

She was so close. Just one more step and they’d meet.

Fuck his ego. Fuck his conscience. Fuck his brittle his self-worth. He would fucking kiss her like his entire measly existence depended on it.

It was just on the tip of his tongue. It was right there for the taking. It was—

“Hey, Dessert’s ready—” 

— Ominis?

As quickly as heaven had opened its gates, it had also come crashing down like a train wreck. 

Like a brutal punch to the gut, Sebastian was thrown back into a sobering reality. Ominis’s sharp voice had popped the fragile little bubble they’d temporarily created. 

Wasn’t the universe just fucking cruel?

And as much as he loved his best friend, he had never ever hated him more. Of all the moments that he could’ve chosen to walk in on… this was what he decided on?

Silence hung in the air. The shadow of something that almost happened lingered like a half-spoken sonnet, begging to be finished. Sebastian searched for the right words, searched for clarity in the fog, searched for the will to string his thoughts together — but it all eluded him.

“...Did I interrupt something—”

“N-No!” “Nope.”

Her face was flushed crimson. His was probably no better.

Thank Merlin, Ominis was blind.

As if by magic, they were now a whole metre apart. Now that Sebastian had a taste of closeness, this distance starved him. It felt like a cruel, deprivation 

A heavy silence settled between them, with each second stretching out for what felt like an eternity. Ominis hadn’t seen them, per se — but Sebastian had a feeling that he could sense that he had just ruined… something significant.

Love might not have killed him, but this painfully awkward silence would.

"Right... well. Solomon asked me to get you both," Ominis finally broke the silence, his tone tinged with clear discomfort.

The ambiance dissipated, the moment was gone. Replaced by the ordinary state of affairs they were forced to return to.

“We’ll—” Sebastian began to say with a slight croak, before clearing his throat, “We’ll be right there.”

He couldn’t bear to look at her as he rushed out to the living room, where normalcy awaited him.

There went his bloody chance.

“Ominis, my plan!” Anne said in a rushed whisper as she pulled the blonde boy into an alcove of the small Sallow residence.

He looked back at her guiltily, with only the slightest hint of a grumble, “Well you could’ve told me about the plan ahead of time…”

“We were so close!” Anne said

“I’m sorry…”

——

Notes

GOSH I apologise so deeply for how atrociously long this chapter took!!! It took me so long, even though I've literally had the outline for it from the very early stages of this fic!

But work did not kill me and I have a new chapter for yall <3

I made sure to sprinkle all the good tropes like, the classic wearing his sweater trope, the oh is that a mistletoe? trope, the almost kiss trope!!! AHHHH I hope you guys like it :)

My HC that the only person that can tame Ominis' outta pocket sass is Anne.

I'm so sorry if you guys have been waiting, and if you're still reading THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!

Shoutout to the very very lovely, @wt-fxck @deliciouslyferal @sonicranger1 @spaceyaceface @eleanorstaghart @ithinkweallsing @somethingiswrongwithme @tlnyjoong @musicbecky @oliviajdjarin @intheshadowofthegame @weeb-shitss FOR ALL THE COMMENTS AND THE TAGS!!!!