#Sometimes scribbling his stupid face is enough

[tapeworrmart]

Collection of doods (dude doodles) I never finished and hated. But now I don't mind them

[dilatorywriting]

Valentine's Day Special: Let Them Fight

GN!Reader x Malleus Draconia vs. Azul Ashengrotto vs. Vil Schoenheit Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: Who knew that in a world of magic, and mayhem, and outright villainy, that it'd be something as stupid as Valentine's Day that would push these idiots over the edge. Or, Malleus, Azul, and Vil go to war over some chocolates

A/N: This MC/Plot takes place in the Heroes vs Villains universe -- specifically Post-Staff's route, rather than any of our other lovely idiot husbands.

There was always some sort of strange overlap of customs from your world to this one. Halloween seemed to have survived more or less intact (even if it was a bit more, uh, extreme than the subtle evening of giving out treats and dressing as ghosts that you remembered). Winter Holidays were still very much a Thing, even if all other connotations had been stripped from them. Moreover, it was like someone had taken your familiar Earthen calendar and just sort of… mirrored it. Distorted it a bit. Just a lil’ bit more chaos than would have been socially acceptable back home.

So when you made a sly little joke about stocking up on discount chocolates after the Valentine’s Day rush and no one laughed—not even a little chortle, or an irritable eyeroll—you initially thought it was maybe to do with the irrationality of Sam’s Shop ever having a sale to begin with. You had not assumed that, you know, there was no Valentine’s Day at all.

“It’s an important holiday, then? Where you’re from?” Azul mused, busy scribbling endless, chicken scratch, notes in the margins of some form that was probably very important.

“I mean, not really,” you frowned, tossing your Mostro-Branded apron onto its hook. “Maybe. Yes? I don’t really know, actually.”

He hummed and moved to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Well, whatever it is, I’m always looking for new events to host at the Lounge. What exactly is it?”

“It’s a sort of special day for couples. Romance. Lovey-dovey nonsense,” you shrugged, and watched Azul’s finger slip off the slick metal frame of his glasses and nearly take his eye out. You waved off his obvious disgust with a dramatic sigh (I mean, why else would he be so stiff and red?). “Yeah, yeah. I know. It’s ridiculous.”

“I—I never said that!” he spluttered, and then paused to cough into his fist and clear his throat. “It just—I just wasn’t expecting something like that to…”

“Exist?”

He grinned, wry. His cheeks were still a bit too pink. “Precisely.”

“You would have loved my world,” you said. “Very capitalistic. Lots of cash-grab holidays like that.”

Azul laughed.

“I’m sure I would be fond of any place you came from.” He paused, and his expression puckered up a bit miserably—like he really hadn’t intended to express such a sentiment aloud. But he managed to smooth the sharp line of his frown back into that usual, smarmy, smirk of his easily enough. “But either way! Tell me more!” he grinned, reaching forward to grab a stack of blank paper and a fresh pen. “I’d love to hear all about it.”

.

.

The next day you were supposed to help the Drama Club start building some stage scenery for their newest play. It was proper grunt work, which was perhaps the only sort of work you were actually qualified for. And Vil always made sure that there were plenty of disgustingly healthy but still quite tasty snacks available for the help to munch on. The food spread alone would have been worth the trip, but on top of that, Vil had made you promise. Practically a blood oath, binding you and your meager free time to the shitty supply closet in the corner of the Auditorium. And as sour as he could be sometimes, you really could never say no to him when he always looked so heart meltingly fond whenever you did agree to while away the hours at his side. That lovely face and even lovelier smile of his were fucking lethal. A war crime, surely, to use it against someone as plain and susceptible to bribery as you were.

But today you were now an idiot on a mission—an idiot determined to spread the joy of a trashy holiday that really probably shouldn’t exist in the first place, let alone in a world where people worshipped storybook villains as veritable deities. And you’d already bought all the molds, and the trays, and you really didn’t have a lot of spare pocket money to begin with, so letting this investment go to waste would not only be a shame, but a terrible business investment.

“What do you mean you’re not coming,” Vil sneered, glaring down his perfectly straight nose at you.

“I really am sorry,” you said, mostly genuine. “But I have something I need to do this afternoon.”

“You’ve made other plans?” he frowned, something a little too unsettled to fit with his usual regality twisting across his expression.

“I have to get ready for Valentine’s Day,” you explained, and his brow tugged down further. Though that earlier twinge of panic seemed to have vanished at least. You pointedly shook your grocery bag full of goodies. “I’m going to make chocolates for everyone.”

“Chocolates?” Vil echoed, confused.

You nodded. “It’s a tradition back home. You give stuff like candy and flowers to the people you care about. Normally it’s a holiday for couples, or whatever. But. Well…”

The ‘I Am Fully Aware That I’m Single as a Pringle, Please Just Let Me Have This One Thing’ was left unsaid, but it hung in the air around your head like a very persistent storm cloud nonetheless. Vil, magnanimously, seemed perfectly happy to ignore the Woe Is Me implications spewing from your mouth. Instead, he leaned forward until he was dipping precariously close into your personal space. His amethyst eyes had lit with blatant interest at your ramblings, and he hummed low in his throat.

“Is that so?” he mused, gaze lidded and warm. “That sounds… intriguing.”

You nodded past the heady scent of his cologne fogging your head. What was it with attractive people, huh? It was so unfair. You don’t get to look and smell good. Pick a lane. Save some dignity for the rest of us.

“So, I promise I’ll help another day. I just have a feeling making chocolates is going to wind up being a lot harder than I think it will.”

Because that’s how it always went in your stupid slice-of-life shows. The poor, harried, protagonist thinking they’re doing a good deed—painstakingly constructing their own, special, homemade goodies for all their important people. Making them with love. And then having it all blow up in their face like a goddamn, cocoa flavored, nuke. Nope. Not you, motherfucker. Your chocolates were going to be divine. You were going to take every, tropey, precaution in the book. And that of course included allotting yourself ample time to make mistakes your masterpiece.

“Of course,” Vil grinned. “How could I possibly begrudge you for wanting to spend your time on something so heartfelt?”

“Thank you,” you blurted, relived. Because at least he got it. Azul had been so ridiculously insistent that you should prepare all your Valentine’s Day wishes as a team. Which was not the point. He’d spent hours last night trying to wheedle his way into your plans—with endless platitudes about ‘business partners always being there for each other,’ and ‘how would he know if he was celebrating to your standards if he wasn’t given a model to work off of first?’ Utter bullshit. He’d probably just wanted free labor.

“Tomorrow, then?” Vil beamed and you nodded.

“Tomorrow,” you confirmed.

“Well, then,” he hummed. “I better get to work as well. I suppose the scenery can wait.”

You nodded in farewell and began the trek back to Ramshackle and its marginally functional kitchens. You hadn’t realized Vil was taking on any new projects, but if it was enough to have him putting off the Club’s activities as well then it must have been pretty important. Maybe he’d get you tickets to it whenever he finished—whatever it was. If there were tickets? How did any of the things he did actually work? Hell if you knew.

.

.

Making chocolates was, in fact, a laughably easy endeavor. And you found yourself cursing every goddamn Shoujo Bullshit Manga under the sun for leading you to think otherwise. The hardest part of the entire thing was fighting off Grim and his wandering paws.

You made up some basic truffles which were, again, stupidly simple. Just some messily chopped chocolate, cream, and a little splash of vanilla to make it Special. Once those were shaped into messy blobs, you dipped them into some more melted chocolate and bam. That was it. That was literally it. You felt like a genius—sitting there mushing up balls of cocoa like high-end playdough.

By 6PM, you had all your little darlings tucked into the refrigerator to harden, all the gauzy, red, boxes lined up on your counter and ready to be filled, and Grim had been placated with an offering of all your dirty mixing bowls. The tiny, demonic, beast was passed out at the dingy kitchen table—one of said bowls wedged onto his head like an astronaut’s helmet. Hopefully it was just a food coma and not, like, an actual coma-coma. Real cats couldn’t eat chocolate, but Grim never really seemed real at all. So hopefully he’d be fine.

You wiped down your cooking space once, twice. Paced up and down the narrow hallway until you were wearing away the already threadbare rugs, and spent way too long just standing in front of the fridge—staring in on your chocolates like a psychotic kidnapper scoping out their next victims.

Eventually you realized that you maybe needed to do something with your evening that wasn’t just creeping on your confections, and set out into the frosty, night, air for a stroll.

Which is, of course, where you ran into your familiar, horned, friend—staring up into the starry sky in a wistful manner that darkened his pale complexion into something nearly ominous. He always looked a bit like that, like something unearthly and detached from the rest of the world.

“Tsunotarou!” you chirped happily, and that adrift-at-sea expression of his melted right off his face.

“Child of Man,” he greeted, inclining his head politely. “I wasn’t expecting to see you this evening.” His brow furrowed, almost confused. “Is it not too cold for you?”

Your breath was, in fact, fogging in front of your face. And you couldn’t really feel your toes anymore. But the electric anticipation of tomorrow was keeping you warm enough. Even if only in spirit.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you waved him off. And then, because you couldn’t help yourself, you leaned forward on your tippytoes and blurted out, “Happy Almost Valentine’s Day!”

“Valentine’s Day?” Malleus repeated back at you, looking like you’d just handed him an unsolvable differential equation.

“It’s a holiday from back home,” you explained for the umpteenth time that day. “And normally I’m not too fussed about it, but this year I’m really excited to give everyone their chocolates!” You grinned. “And you too, of course. I have to make sure I give them to all my important people.”

The furrow between his brows vanished, but the blatant, gaping, confusion remained. He looked like you’d nearly startled him into an early grave.

“I am one of your most important people?” he asked, slow as a tortoise making its way up an incline.

You nodded cheerfully, still bellied by your earlier culinary successes and excellent mood. “Of course you are! We’re friends, aren’t we? And besides. Valentine’s Day is for showing people how much you care about them.”

“What an interesting concept,” he mused, bringing a finger up to tap at his chin. “To think your world had such a heartfelt tradition—it’s quite a lovely surprise.”

You laughed. “If you think the chocolates are special, you should see what some couples do for each other. Rooms full of flowers, fancy date nights—I’m just managing the bare minimum.”

“Couples?” he echoed, and you felt the first teeny, hot, thread of chagrin work its way past your enthusiasm.

“Well, normally Valentine’s Day focuses on, like, romantic things,” you said, averting your gaze just in time to miss the tension lance through his shoulders. “But it can be for all sorts of affection!” you hastily added.

“Is that so…” the Prince hummed. He lifted his pensive gaze once more and stared you down with that weighted intensity that you’d only just recently learned how not to buckle beneath. “And you wish to celebrate this day. With me?”

“…you don’t mind, do you?” you asked, hesitant.

“Of course not, Child of Man,” he beamed, his lips curling up into a smile that put all his too-sharp teeth on display. “But you’ll have to excuse me now, I’m afraid. It seems I have some preparations to undertake this evening.”

“Oh,” you blinked. “Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Yes,” Malleus said. “You will.”

.

.

It was officially Valentine’s Day, and you were ready to begin your mission of forcing your sweets onto every, single, one of your reluctant friends. Let them be pissy and tsundere. You weren’t afraid to weep and proclaim your undying, shounen-talk-no-jutsu, levels of friendship. Okay. Maybe you were a little. But these grouchy bastards had very easily become your grouchy bastards, and so help you God, they would suffer under your affection and they would like it.

There were plenty of small boxes—all nice, neat, corners with little bows perched on top. But you had also prepared a singular, larger, tray. It was cleaner cut than the rest, with bold, contrasting, colors and a simple elegance. You stared it down with a strange sort of disquiet brewing in your gut. Maybe you were being presumptuous. Goodness knows you’d more than dealt with the searing, emotionally destructive, consequences of that before. But all the same…

You squared your shoulders and spent a moment convincing yourself that your spine was quite sturdy—a proper, titanium, support system—and then popped the Big Box into the bag with the others.

Your first stop was Heartslabyul, and you burst through the ornate, crimson, doors like a manic home invader.

“I come bearing gifts,” you proclaimed, merrily doling out the boxes to your favorite idiot duo. You set three more aside, with little labels for Riddle, Trey, and Cater respectively. Normally you wouldn’t trust a dorm full of teenage boys not to devour any scrap of unattended food in sight, but Riddle had long since struck the fear of God into these poor lads. So you figured it’d be safe.

Deuce’s face lit up and he accepted the chocolate with near starry-eyed enthusiasm.

“Are these your holiday presents? Like the Santa Claus?” he asked, looking very much like a bouncy golden retriever preparing itself for congratulatory head pats.

You leaned forward with an indulgent huff to give him his pats. “No. But close enough.”

You pawned off three boxes on Ruggie when he tried to duck past you in the hallway—one for him, one for Leona, and one extra as payment for making him do your dirty work of playing delivery boy to Mister Grump in the first place. You slipped Jack his on the way into Trein’s morning lecture, and managed to press a box into Jamil’s hands before he slunk off to the library. Kalim cheered so loudly when you handed him one that your ears started to ring.

And then trouble arrived in the form of two, slippery, eels draping themselves across your shoulders. Normally the destructive duo seemed to act on their own prerogative, but on this fortuitous morning their Lord and Master was surprisingly not too far behind.

“Shrimpy!~” Floyd trilled, dragging you into a one-armed hug that was really more of a slightly-less-aggressive headlock than anything else. “Azul says you came up with this stupid holiday! And he made us work all day yesterdayto put together stuff for the Lounge! It’s not fair!”

Your legs shook under the weight of the new tumor that had made its home on your back.

“Now, Floyd,” Jade chirped. All finely manicured cruelty. “If you’re to blame anyone for going overboard with this entire situation, you ought to lay the fault on our fearless leader.” His bi-colored eyes flashed, amused. “Isn’t that right, Azul?”

Said ‘fearless leader’ looked like he was sucking on a lemon. He glared bitterly at his subordinate, seeming to share an entire, silent, argument with him, before turning back on you with a heavy sigh and the barest hint of angry flush in his cheeks.

“Prefect,” he grinned past his obvious discomfort, all sparkling, white, teeth. “I have to thank you for sharing so much information about this ‘Valentine’s Day’ of yours. It’s such a unique event, and it seems like our preparations at the Lounge are already being received incredibly well.”

“That’s good,” you nodded, trying and failing to shrug the Leech off your shoulders. “I’m glad I could help.”

Azul hummed under his breath, his eyes darting away for a moment. His glasses reflected the muted light of the hall in an odd way—making it difficult to read his expression. He cleared his throat and when he looked back up at you, the tips of his ears had gone pink.

“You’re more than welcome to come by, of course,” he beamed, suave as could be.

“I mean,” you blinked. “I would hope so. I work there.”

Floyd let out a bark of laughter and Jade snickered into his glove. The pleasant pink tinting Azul’s skin was heating to a near sunburned red. He looked down and coughed into his fist.

“Yes…” he mumbled. “I—I’m aware. But what I meant is… What I meant—” He frowned. It was a tight, pouty, little thing that scrunched up his entire face. That mottled red had spread to the bridge of his nose.

“I do believe what Azul is trying to say,” Jade stepped in, clearly taking some sort of pity on his tongue-tied friend. Or perhaps pity was the wrong word for it, seeing how smug he looked, “is that he would like to invite you to the event personally. As an honored guest, not an employee.”

“Oh,” you blinked, startled. Then hesitated, cautious on instinct. There was always some sort of catch to the Octomer’s kindness. “I don’t know if I could afford whatever fancy thing you’ve thrown together.”

“You wouldn’t be paying for it,” Azul assured you, some of that sickly flush having finally started to recede from his cheeks. You hoped he was feeling alright. “You’ve contributed more than enough for the day. It would be on the house.”

Jade loudly cleared his throat and Azul huffed, eyes sliding away yet again.

“I would be paying,” he finally mumbled. And then, even quieter, “As I believe is the custom.”

Just as you were about to thank him for his startling bought of generosity (and also ask after his health, because between the weird, pink, tinge to his skin and the aforementioned generosity, clearly somethingwas out of sorts with him), you noticed a sneaky hand working its way into your bag of goodies, and you immediately were on the defensive.

“Hey!” you snapped, spinning out of Floyd’s stranglehold. “You only get one!”

“Then I want the really big one!” he demanded, making grabby motions at it.

“No!” you squeaked, and clutched it protectively to your chest. The trio looked at you with varying degrees of surprise and you cleared your throat awkwardly. “This one—This one is special.”

“Oh?” Jade cooed, eyes flickering back towards Azul, who seemed determined to look absolutely anywhere else. “Is it now?”

“Awww,” Floyd whined. “That’s no fair! Who’s it for, anyways?!”

You gripped the box tighter and now it was your turn to stiffly avert your eyes down to the ugly carpet. “It’s not—I’m not—” you cleared your throat and forced the jitter from your voice. “I’m not ready to give it to him yet.”

The silence that followed was absolutely the worst thing you’d experienced in a long, long, time. Overblots and all. You could practically hear your blood pounding in your ears. You were just about to turn and beat a hasty retreat when a familiar, snappish, voice called your name from the other side of the corridor.

“There you are, potato,” Vil huffed, coming to stand at your side and bodily inserting himself between you and your tormentors. He met Azul’s petulant sneer with a frankly terrifying one of his own. “What are you doing here? I thought we agreed you’d be eating lunch with me today.”

You remembered no such thing, but if it got you out of this verbal minefield of a conversation, you were more than willing to take the claim at face value.

“Apologies,” Azul cut in with all his usual, mafioso, flair. “But the Prefect will be taking their afternoon meal at the Mostro Lounge today.”

“Is that so?” Vil hummed, sounding positively venomous.

“Unless you think you can make an offer good enough to sway them otherwise,” Azul chirped, equally as unpleasant.

Vil laughed—cold and sharp as crystal. It was the most elegant display of blatant irritation you’d ever seen.

“Of course you’d only consider this entire situation on a transactional basis,” he drawled, entirely unimpressed. Azul flinched and his expression screwed up into something near petulant. “I would expect no less. Are you planning to lock them into a contact too, hmm? Sign away everything in formal, sterile, terms?” Vil crossed his arms, and you were reminded sharply once more how very, very lucky you were to not be on his bad side (even if you hadn’t realized before all this that Azul apparently was on said bad side. You had no idea they disliked each other so terribly). “I really hadn’t expected you to have a single, romantic, bone in your body, and yet somehow I’m still disappointed to be proved so entirely correct.”

Azul looked ready to explode, and even though Jade and Floyd and melted back into the shadows at the start of this entire encounter, the pair of them were starting to look a bit murderous too—like sharks lazily circling the dark, ocean, depths.  

“Don’t you think you deserve better?” Vil asserted, turning back to face you with a soft cant of the head. You blinked back in shock.

“Uh,” you gaped, absolutely fucking lost.

And then, like a beacon of unrivaled, black-drenched, hope, you spotted Malleus making his way down the hallway. He was flanked by his trio of housemates-cum-pseudo-bodyguards. Normally you tried to leave him alone when his rabid, green-haired, guard dog was yipping at his heels, and on top of that, the idea of using your classmates’ ingrained fear of the Fae Prince to your own advantage upset your rather staunch sensibilities. But this was an emergency.

“Tsunotarou!” you called, and it absolutely sounded like the cry for help it was.

He perked up immediately and you watched him nearly crash to a standstill. And then his sharp, neon, gaze locked on the dueling Housewardens circling you like a pair of snapping wolves, and his merry expression shuttered into something positively glacial. Which was—Fuck. I mean. Come on. What the fuck was going on today—

“Child of Man,” he droned, crossing the short distance with all the grace of the near-mythical, arcane, master that he was. His posture was more collected and regal than you’d ever seen it, and he loomed all the taller for it.

Azul and Vil had gone tense at your side, one certainly more so than other. The Octomer looked incredibly unsettled at Malleus’s sudden arrival, but Vil just looked angrier. It was the sort of unpleasantness that bloomed whenever someone challenged him or his competencies over and over—inevitably pushing the normally composed beauty into an indignant rage.

“Happy Day of Valentine’s,” Malleus continued, slotting himself firmly into the veritable territory dispute going down. “Are you quite alright?”

No, you wanted to wail. No! I’m so confused! I have no idea what’s going on! I just wanted to give my friends chocolates!

But you never managed to get those words or any others past your lips, because Sebek Zigvolt shot to his master’s side with all the speed of the lightning for which he was so named, and immediately began to scream.

“HOW DARE YOU INTERRUPT THE YOUNG MASTER’S AFTERNOON ROUTINE!” he shrieked at the top of his very impressive lungs.

You weren’t sure if he was howling at you (very likely) or just anyone who wasn’t Malleus, but Jade took the opportunity to slink forward from the shadows with a sharp tut-tut.

“Perhaps none of you deserve the Prefect’s special attentions,” he piped in, sounding very much like someone intentionally throwing a cannister of gasoline onto an already roaring fire. “Or any chocolates at all—let alone the ones set aside for someone special.”

At this, silence once more rang through the corridor and you wanted to throttle that stupid eel.

“There is a special box?” Malleus asked first, brow shooting up as his expression tugged with… something.

“I—I mean, I made all of yours special!” you defended, holding the wrapped treasure tightly to your chest. “But… I guess. Yes. There’s one that’s a little bigger than the others.”

At this, all three Housewardens exchanged pointed looks.

Jade smiled serenely once more, and then continued his absolute massacre upon your person.

“Yes, indeed,” he nodded. “And our dearest Prefect only just mentioned that—hmm. How did you word it? Ah. That’s right. ‘I’m not ready to give it to him yet.’”

The trio tensed. All looking absolutely ready to pounce. At—at what, you had no idea.

“Perhaps,” the wretch mused, “it would be best for you all to temper your rage until the victor is decided, hmm?” He paused to tap at his chin for a moment, and then his lips split into a mean, jagged, grin. “Afterwards? Well, I suppose that whole cheery sentiment about ‘love and war’ still holds true.”

You gulped, feeling startlingly like Jade had just tried to serve you up on a silver platter.

But when neither Azul, Vil, or Malleus made any further moves to murder each other… well. As sacrificial as it all felt, at least it must have worked.

The rest of the day passed in a tense sort of fugue. You certainly hadn’t expected your attempts at bringing some holiday cheer to Night Raven to go so… Uh…

But either way, you managed to survive through the rest of the afternoon, and before you knew it, all that remained of all your tireless efforts and good will was the Special Box. The big one. The one that you’d put together with extra care and hopes for better things. You glared down at it for a moment, feeling sweat starting to bead over your palms. But you couldn’t chicken out now. Not after you’d come so far! Everyone was acting so strange, and it was all so weird. And as much as that unfamiliarity had your teeth on edge and your hackles raised, you didn’t want to regret not giving out the last of your well-made sweets.

Well, here goes nothing, you frowned. You took a deep breath, willed yourself to be brave, and smiled your biggest smile.

“Here,” you beamed, more than a little shy and still a bit horrified by whatever pissing match had been going down earlier in the day, and finally offered the grandest of your chocolate boxes to the man standing opposite you.

Divus Crewel accepted your offering daintily, plucking at the crisp, sharp, wrapping with his crimson gloves. He arched one of his thin brows at you and you fought the nervous heat rising in your cheeks.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” you blurted. “I know it’s not a thing here, but I thought it’d be nice.”

The second eyebrow joined the first—practically jumping all the way up into his fringe.

“I appreciate the gesture. Though from what I understand of all the garish advertising I’ve seen for Mostro Lounge’s new event, I assumed this was a holiday for romantic overtures,” he intoned, wry.

You spluttered and waved your hands furiously. “I mean! Normally! Yes! But also…” You trailed off, fighting the urge to fidget. “If you don’t have a—a, well, someone, then Valentine’s is just a nice excuse to give something to people you care about.” You averted your gaze and lost the battle to twist your fingers into your jacket sleeves. “My family used to give me chocolates every year. So. I thought I could… Well…” you trailed off on a grumble, embarrassed.

Crewel sighed and popped the lid off the box. He plucked two truffles from their casing—keeping one for himself and handing you the other.

“Well, then. A very happy Valentine’s to you, Prefect,” he droned and popped the chocolate into his mouth with a thoughtful hum.

You lit up like a Christmas tree and happily gobbled up your own treat. So distracted were you by the one-two-punch combo of the delicious sugar and even sweeter taste of your Professor’s approval that you almost entirely missed the pointed glare he shot over your shoulder.

“I appreciate your regard,” he said, loud. Sharp. And like he wasn’t talking to you at all. “And while I’m certain that if you do pick a ‘someone’ for yourself to celebrate with in the following years, they’ll have to work very hard to be worthy of such a gift, hmm?” His lip curled unpleasantly, in direct contrast to the indulgent warmth that had been tugging at his expression only a moment before. “I could hardly allow you to waste such a thoughtful gesture on someone unworthy.”

The Octavinelle Housewarden had the decency to look at least a little panicked—his face going pale and gaunt from where he was shrinking into his high collar. There was a frantic look about him, like he was trying to weigh the cost-benefit ratio of going up against his professor in his head, and realizing that he was stupidly, willfully, walking right into a lose-lose situation. And that, sadly—miserably—he was going to keep doing just that. The other two, however, looked entirely undeterred. Schoenheit curled his lip right back at him, more than ready to duke it out here and now, and Crewel fought the urge to remind the blonde that he was the adult in this situation, thank you very much. The adult who could very well revoke the Warden’s access to his Alchemy Labs as it suited him. The very alchemy labs that he knew Vil had been using to concoct all kinds of new, personalized, gifts for you. Draconia simply looked on with that unnervingly ancient, green, leer of his. Like he was staring down a particularly fascinating game. The Fae Prince was the most unsettling of the trio, if only because that while Crewel was more than confident enough in his abilities to subdue his other wayward students, fighting off an Immortal, All Powerful, Dragon was going to require at least a little bit of prep work.

Divus Crewel sighed, and it rattled all the way out from the marrow of his bones.

“Come, then,” he rumbled, directing you to follow him back into his office. “It’s not chocolates, but I probably have some of those ridiculous cookies of yours lying around somewhere.” Which he did. Boxes upon boxes of them. Tucked away special for whenever you came to visit. Not that he’d ever willingly admit that, even under the pain of death.

Your eyes went wide and warm as you positively beamed.

It was rotten work, certainly. He shot one, last, warning glare down the hall at the trio of infatuated interlopers as he firmly shut his office door behind you and your absolute oblivious idiocy. He’d do it. Of course he would. But, Christ alive. He was going to need a stronger drink.

[eddiethehunted]

i want you to touch it softly (ao3)

believe it or not, this one isn't a wip, it's COMPLETE! rated: m (to be safe, tbh could probably be rated t) | cw: drug use, horny discussion, eddie has a thing for his hair getting pulled (implied) | wc: 1.6k | robin/vickie mentioned, platonic stobin, mutual pining, steve being into hair care and skincare, idiot4idiot, the usual <3 title from ariana grande 'my hair'

—————

Steve’s curled into a corner of the couch, watching the movie with glazed eyes, his knees drawn up to his chest. Robin’s feeling a little buzzed herself, laying on her side on the other end of the couch, with Eddie sat cross legged on the floor in front of her, scribbling away in a notebook.

Without really thinking much about it, she reaches forward and starts playing with Eddie’s hair. He startles at first, glancing over his shoulder, but she just smiles at him and twirls a curl around her finger and he relaxes, so she doesn’t stop.

“Okay, I have to know,” she says, because really, Eddie’s curls are beautiful, just really dry and frizzy and she’s stoned and nosy and curious. “Is this a perm? Or is it natural?”

Eddie looks offended, shooting her a reproachful look over his shoulder and saying, “It’s natural.”

She nods, twirling a piece around her finger again. She can see Steve on the other end of the couch looking over sulkily. Jealous. She thinks it’s adorable, the way Steve quickly looks away when she glances over at him.

“It’s so crunchy,” Robin says, “how much hairspray do you have in here?”

Another affronted look. “None! I just washed my hair before I came here.”

It’s still a bit damp around the roots, so she knows he’s not lying. She gets her fingers really in it, pulls his head back a little bit, and he makes this weird sound in the back of his throat. It’s something between pleased and irritated, like when you pet a cat that can’t decide if it wants to purr or claw at your hand.

Steve huffs and pretends he’s still watching the movie, but Robin bets he’s jealous as hell right now. He has expressed to Robin several times how badly he wants to be allowed to play with Eddie’s hair but he can’t because that’s weird and guy friends don’t do that and he doesn’t want to make Eddie uncomfortable.

As if Eddie doesn’t melt into a puddle of horny lovesick goo the second Steve so much as brushes against him.

It’s not really her place to tell him how many times Eddie has complained to her about his own pathetic crush, though, so she never does. Just lets them both lament and pine and complain to her about how badly they want each other, and how sad and tragic and woeful their lives are that it’ll never be requited love. Pats Eddie’s shoulder when he covers his face and whisper screams into his hands when Steve walks by wearing those stupid jock shorts and lets Steve lay his head in her lap and whine about Eddie’s arms and his hands and his mouth and—kinda just everything.

(It’s only fair, though. They’ve both heard enough of her salivating over the short skirts Vickie always wears on their dates. And that one low cut shirt she wears that shows off her cute tits. The least she can do is listen, even if it kinda makes her want to bash her head into the wall sometimes.)

Steve likes hair, she knows. Skincare too. He likes products and he understands skin types and hair textures pretty well, considering she’s sure he’s never learnt anything cosmetic-related, at least not formally. He put her on some new shampoo a few months ago and her hair’s never been so soft and healthy and wavy before.

Eddie’s hair is dry. It’s kinda fried, even. It’s brittle and tangled and not really rough to the touch, but definitely not as soft as it could be, and she knows it drives Steve insane. Like, Steve likes Eddie’s hair like it is—she’s sat through way too many sexually frustrated rants about how badly he wants to mess it up—but he knows how to help it, and he wants to, because it’s like, his love language or something.

“Damn. Your hair is dry.” Robin glances sidelong at Steve again, trying to project her thoughts into his mind. “You should use a hair mask or something.”

“Some of us are poor,” Eddie says indignantly, jerking his head away. He scoots closer to Steve’s side of the couch, out of her reach, and glowers at her as he pulls his notes to the other side of the coffee table. “My hair’s fine, thank you very fucking much.”

“I’m poor too, dumbass,” Robin points out. “I just steal Steve’s stuff.”

Steve snorts, letting his head loll back against the back of the couch, his eyelids heavy. He’s been quiet all night—he gets that way sometime when he’s high, just stops talking and sits there, quietly listening to whatever’s going on around him—but he speaks up for the first time in over an hour to mumble, “Not stealing if I’m givin’ it to you.”

“Whatever,” Robin says, waving a hand. “Touch Eddie‘s hair, dude. It’s crispy.”

Eddie shoots a desperate, betrayed look at her, then says to Steve, “I will bite your hand off, Steve.”

“Mhm, bet you will,” Steve says, ignoring the warning, because Eddie is all cozy in his plaid PJ pants and Steve’s old hoodie and therefore about as threatening as a small gerbil, “lemme see.”

He reaches out to touch with only the faintest flush on his cheeks. It could easily be blamed on his high, but Robin knows him as well as she knows the back of her own hand. Steve is absolutely losing his shit right now. He’s just really good at hiding it.

“Dry,” he confirms. His hand lingers in Eddie’s hair and Robin notices that Eddie doesn’t bristle nearly as much when Steve’s the one with his hand all wrapped up in it.

Rude. But understandable.

“What the hell,” Eddie complains, but he sounds decidedly less irritated and a whole lot more flustered now. He’s nowhere near as good at hiding it as Steve.

Robin hides a smile when she notices how he’s not doodling in the margins of his paper anymore, but instead twisting a ring around his finger and staring hard at the wall.

Okay, she's more than aware of the fact that she started this, but she’s starting to think that maybe she should, like, go. Give them some privacy or whatever. Save herself of having to experience this.

“Th’s’not a bad thing,” Steve murmurs in his soupy, slow, stoned voice. Robin might not be into guys at all—especially not Steve, he’s like, Steve—but she’s not an idiot, she can tell in a purely observational way how the gravely sound of it could be sexy. She’s not completely oblivious.

Neither is Eddie, apparently, because there’s a strange glazed look in his eyes that Robin is sure has nothing to do with the weed in his system. His adam’s apple bobs as Steve runs his fingers through his hair, tugging a bit near the roots to pull Eddie’s head closer.

Eddie goes willingly. Quietly. Steve looks delighted, a big stupid smile on his face.

She is seriously such a genius. Steve owes her, seriously.

“Not a bad thing,” Eddie echoes.

“No, s’nice like this anyway.” Steve gathers it all into one hand, like a ponytail, before letting it fall slowly, playing with it like that over and over as goosebumps break out over Eddie’s neck.

“How do I—” Eddie sounds like he’s choking, the back of his ears and neck bright red. “Uh—make it better?”

“A hair mask might help,” Steve says, rolling onto his side so he can get both hands in Eddie’s hair. He’s too out of it to notice the violent shudder that tears through Eddie’s body. “You should do a porosity test.”

“Uh huh,” Eddie says blankly. Robin nearly cackles. Eddie has no fucking clue what’s going on. He checked out the second Steve got his hands in his hair.

“That’s the one where you see if your hair floats?” she prompts, when it’s clear Eddie isn’t going to say anything else, too dumbfounded to process anything that Steve’s saying to him.

“Mmmhm.” Steve gives a little smile, pleased that she remembers, and of course she does.

Eddie’s eyes shut and he presses his lips into a firm line at the sound of Steve’s agreement, like he’s fighting some kind of demons inside. Steve’s still got his hands buried in Eddie’s hair, eyes glassy as he watches the frizzy strands run through his fingers.

“Maybe high porosity. Feels rough.” He tugs a little, maybe on accident, or maybe he’s too stoned to think better of it. “Wanna try a hair mask?”

“Uh,” Eddie says.

Robin kicks him, not at all subtly, and he coughs, straightening up a little bit.

“Uh, yeah,” he chokes out. “Um… if you think it’ll help, I guess. Why not.”

God, Eddie owes her too. She’s such a good friend.

Steve’s hands fall from Eddie’s hair as he pushes himself up to a sitting position, somewhat clumsily. He catches Robin’s eye, biting his lip in an excited smile, and she grins back, giving him a thumbs up.

“If the pizza shows up there’s cash in my wallet,” Steve tells her, getting to his feet and offering his hand to an absolutely flustered-looking Eddie. “C’mon, gonna show you how to take care of those pretty curls.”

Eddie’s mouth falls open, gaping like a fish out of water. Robin can’t help but snicker, grinning wider when he shoots her a bewildered, panicked look over his shoulder as Steve tugs him towards the stairs.

She curls into her corner of the couch, pulling the blanket closer to her chin and putting her focus back onto the movie as she waits for the doorbell to ring. Grease is always a classic, and, well, whatever happens between her two favourite idiots next is really none of her business.

She does turns up the volume, though. Just in case.

[cordeliawhohung]

okay, here's the better run down on mafia!Soap as promised (as well as his fem!nurse!Reader gf <3)

like it's sorta referenced in canon, Soap is the youngest of Price's closest circle. he used to do freelance work as a programmer/hacker and got hired by the wrong crowd trying to steal some of Price's information. impressed, Price actually offered the man a job and he took it mostly because Price paid better. stayed because he also grew to like the man.

people legit call the man Soap in this universe too because he can clean hardware and information like no one's business. otherwise, they'll just call him by his last name or Johnny.

has an odd dynamic with Simon in this universe. more of like his annoying little brother than a good friend. they get along fine, but they don't really interact much outside of work. he's actually really close friends with Kyle, though. the two play games together sometimes, and Soap of course teaches him how to torrent games because fuck activision <3

he's got a few piercings. simple ear lobe piercings that he usually wears simple studs in, but he also has a tongue piercing. just the classic, straight through with a simple bar. he got it because he's a fucking munch

i feel like he wouldn't get many more tattoos than what he already has in canon ngl. if he does, they're def something stupid as fuck that have no meaning. something he probably got due to a dare, or while he was insanely inebriated.

he also doesn't have as many scars as he does in canon. certainly not the one on his chin. he def played football when he was younger, and still likes to play skirmishes every now and then. he also lifts on the regular. sure, he's tech savvy, but he goes fucking insane having to sit around too much, so going for a run or hitting the gym is a really good way to get his energy out!

while he doesn't have too many scars, he still is getting himself hurt a lot. not because he's clumsy or anything, he just really, really, really wants to ensure that something gets done right whenever he's sent out to do "field work." usually ends up with a TBI because of it lmfao.

and that's actually how the two of you met (:

being an ER nurse, you saw a lot of weird shit at the hospital, especially on day shift. then you had this loud man with a huge gash on his head and a suspected concussion roll through the door and honestly you're just glad it wasn't another damn car accident. you were tired of looking at compound fractures.

Johnny is just a fucking loon. literally acting inebriated, and poor Kyle is trying to prevent him from saying anything too stupid.

it doesn't work

at first you have a hard time telling if he's being a creep or not. commenting on your scrubs, how he likes the color, but honestly you've heard worse. but it is sort of cute. he's so loopy he's got this dog-like excitement to him and has a hard time focusing on anything in particular. it's more innocent than anything else.

he falls in love with you the moment you bring him a snack (some shitty and dry saltines and a cup of water). he devours one of the crackers like it's crack and thanks you with his mouth half full.

that's when he gets the bright idea to give you his number. a simple thanks isn't enough for the kind gift you've given him! he's got to let you know that he's down to do anything for you! so if anyone fucks with you, if you need someone taken care of give him a call. he won't ask any questions!

kyle is fucking mortified, hiding his face in the corner of the room, but you just smile and kindly take the piece of paper with his scribbled number.

of course you don't actually text or call him. he was a patient of yours, and that's just breaking so many rules! and you certainly don't need anyone to be taken care of. so you leave it be. despite how adorable his loopy smile was or how pretty his eyes were or... christ, you need to throw that scrap paper away.

and Johnny? well, he forgets all about you. not on purpose or anything, the poor man was hardly conscious when he met you, and he only interacted with you briefly. so imagine his surprise when him and Kyle are out on the town and the man points you out to him asking if you ever ended up texting him.

Johnny is fucking confused. why would she text him? (you gave your number to her, idiot) oh. that can't be. (why not?) because he would have fucking remembered if he had given his number to a girl that beautiful.

now he wants to figure out why you never texted him ):<

anyway there's more to this but my shift was long and my brain is frozen from the fuckin -31 degree weather we got so <3 enjoy lore about the idiot

[cranberrymoons]

here you are, standing there

prompt: bakery au (@steddieholidaydrabbles) rated: t word count: 880 tags: flirting, meet cute at the farmer's market, baker steve, writer eddie

There’s a farmer’s market in the park at the end of Eddie’s block which turns into a Christmas market as the weather gets cold.

He likes to bring his coffee there on Saturday mornings and find a seat on his favorite bench, just out of the way enough to be perfect for people watching but still close enough that he feels like part of the action. He brings a notebook with him when he does this, to scribble little thoughts to himself or sketch out an idea if he’s working on a new book, but mostly he just takes in the crowd and the air and the way people talk to each other as they shuffle past.

Like the bakery stall right across from his bench, with the stupid hot booth guy. 

Eddie doesn’t know if he’s the owner or a baker or just some college kid they hired to swipe people’s cards on his little iPad thing, but holy shit. Half the sketches in his book are of this guy's eyes or his hands or the special changing way the sun hits his face in the earlier parts of the morning, when it’s just coming up over the tops of the trees in the park.

It’s not creepy; he’s doing character research. He’s… observing the world around him. He’s a writer. Shut up.

He’s doing exactly this one Saturday morning in mid-November about a week before Thanksgiving when a shadow falls over his book. He glances up slowly, eyes trailing up from Hot Booth Guy’s hands to the sunny pattern of flowers embroidered on his apron and all the way up to his face where he’s standing two paces out of reach and staring down at Eddie with an amused little smile on his face.

And – fuck, he’s even hotter up close; Eddie had sort of hoped, for his own sanity if nothing else, that he’d be one of those people who looked weird on closer inspection, but nope. Here he is in all his square-jawed, golden-tanned Hot Booth Guy glory.

He raises his eyebrows and Eddie clears his throat. 

“Um,” he says intelligently. “Hi.”

Hot Booth Guy’s smile widens, and he lets out a little laugh. 

“Hi.” He holds out a crinkly paper bag, and Eddie blinks down at it. “Thought you might want some breakfast.”

Eddie tilts his head to the side. “But I didn’t buy anything?”

Hot Booth Guy nods. “That’s correct.”

He holds the bag out again and wiggles it at him until Eddie accepts it, narrowing his eyes as he peeks inside at the perfect crackly flaky croissant nestled inside. He rips off a piece of it and pops it in his mouth, and Hot Booth Guy smiles as he watches him eat.

“Thank you,” Eddie says. He takes a breath. “This is… really good. Just – why?”

Hot Booth Guy shrugs a little, shoving his hands in his apron pockets. 

“You’re here every weekend and you never stop by,” he says. “Thought I might lure you in with one of my croissants since nothing else was working.”

Eddie lets out a surprised laugh as he takes another bite of croissant. It really is a fucking great croissant. He squints into the sun as he looks up. 

“Lure me in?” 

“Yeah, gotta –” Hot Booth Guy mimes a lasso, throwing it in Eddie’s direction and using it to pull himself a step closer. “One of us has to make the first move. You obviously weren’t going to, so.”

And Eddie feels his cheeks heat in spite of the slight chill in the air. He raises his eyebrows. “I didn’t realize there were moves to be made.”

Hot Booth Guy just smiles. “What’s your name?”

“Eddie,” Eddie says. “Not – I mean, I am, and… you are, just –” He takes a breath. “I’m a writer. I just like to people watch sometimes? It helps me get dialogue down in my head. The rhythm of the way people talk? Things like that.”

Hot Booth Guy smiles. “So you’re not interested in getting lunch after one of the Saturday markets?”

Eddie raises his eyebrows as he takes a sip of his coffee. “You haven’t even told me your name yet.”

Hot Booth Guy taps his apron, just above the flowers, where Steve is embroidered in sloping pink cursive. 

“Oh,” Eddie says.

“Oh,” Steve repeats. “I’m just saying, if you’d bought a muffin or a cookie or even a bagel at any point this summer, you would have –”

“Okay,” Eddie says, smiling in spite of himself even as he flushes. “I get it.”

“You would’ve gotten my name weeks ago. Probably even my number.”

“Oh, was that embroidered on your hat?”

Steve laughs, and he’s so, so lovely when he laughs, big smile and crinkled eyes, and Eddie feels something fizzy and sweet curl in his chest. He finishes the croissant as Steve’s laugh quiets down, and Eddie smiles up at him as he wads the bag into a ball and tosses it into the trash next to them.

“So?” Steve asks. “Lunch? Preferably today so I can start the wooing process before the Christmas rush really kicks in.”

Eddie nods a little, folding his notebook shut against his knees. “I’d like that,” he says. “The wooing, and also the number.”

[also on ao3]

[spaceyaceface]

Snow, Scarves, and Schemes

Sebastian Sallow x f!Reader (unspecified Hogwarts House)

Word Count: 14.8k (oops) 

Content Warnings: Slight angst 

Summary: Y/N is sick of Leander Prewett trying to court her. Luckily, she has a best friend named Sebastian Sallow who would love to help put an end to it. They devise a plan to pretend to court up until the Yule Ball. Should be simple, right? If only. 

Or, the classic friends to lovers, idiots in love, fake dating scenario. 

Also available on AO3

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

Y/N paced back and forth nervously in the Undercroft. This was a stupid idea. Utterly rubbish. She considered going back to her common room, but knew it was already too late–she’d sent him an owl, after all. A bloody owl with a bloody note asking for help and to meet her in the Undercroft. She couldn’t flee now; he’d just track her down and badger her about later.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when the door to the Undercroft opened with the boy she was waiting for waltzing through. He’d shot up in height the summer after their fifth year—he now nearly had to duck coming in the doorway. He’d been a twig for a brief moment after his growth spurt (a fact that Y/N had taken to her advantage and teased him with) but he had quickly filled out in the months that followed. Now, Sebastian Sallow stood tall and broad before her, the changes from the last two years evident to her eyes. It made her feel a little intimidated. Not that Sebastian himself was intimidating—she knew him too well to ever fear him. And he knew her well enough that she wouldn’t put up with any of his nonsense. The last two years of friendship had made them very close—of everyone in Hogwarts, Sebastian was easily the person she trusted the most, despite some of the difficulties throughout their time together. He’d really come far in proving himself redeemed—the fact that Anne now spoke to him attesting to his progress. It was her trust in him that led to this moment now.

“I got your owl, what’s happened?” He’d seen her nervous only a handful of times before. For the most part, Y/N was a girl who didn’t let things get to her—she made a habit of running headfirst into danger, thinking of the consequences only in passing. So, the way she was wringing her hands was most unusual. “You said you needed help, are the poachers back around Hogwarts?”

She shook her head quickly, finally meeting her eyes. “No, nothing like that. It’s just—oh this is stupid, I shouldn’t have sent that owl—”

“Too late,” Sebastian teased. “I know something’s afoot, I won’t rest until I find out what it is.”

“I know, I know!” She sighed. “You can’t laugh, alright?”

A signature smirk settled on his face. “No promises.”

She groaned. “Look, you know Leander Prewett, right?”

The events leading up to Y/N’s hastily scribbled note came back full force. Leander had followed her from her Herbology class down to Potions. Most of the time, Y/N had Sebastian and Ominis by her side, and could quickly dismiss the arrogant Gryffindor. But today, Sebastian had ‘accidently’ spilled a bag of dung all over Garreth Weasley’s feet, and Professor Garlick had insisted Sebastian stay behind to clean it up. Poor Ominis, guilty only by association, had been roped in as well. So Leander had taken his chance and walked out of the classroom with Y/N.

Because their conversations were usually cut off by Y/N running off to Sebastian and Ominis, Leander would typically ask how she was, make some snide remark about a Slytherin, and then ask her out. Sometimes she answered with a simple “No, thank you,” sometimes she made excuses of how busy she was, and sometimes, when she was really at her wit’s end, she’d pretend she hadn’t heard the question before claiming she saw Ominis’s blond hair up ahead and running off. But today she couldn’t find a reason to run.

And so, Leander strode up to her in the hall. “How are you, Y/N?”

“Just fine, thank you,” she stated simply, not even meeting eyes with the red-headed boy.

“Pretty low of Sallow to dump that dung all over. Typical Slytherin. Serves him right to have to clean it all up.”

She didn’t give him a reply this time, electing to roll her eyes instead. The whole Slytherin-Gryffindor rivalry had always seemed pointless and melodramatic to her, though she had to admit she disliked it coming from Leander a lot more than hearing it from Sebastian or Ominis.

“What would you say to a trip to the Three Broomsticks with me this weekend, eh? My treat, of course. Could make a date of it.”

She let out a sigh. “I’d say no thank you, Leander.”

He scowled a bit. It was no secret to the majority of the students in their year that Leander had been chasing after Y/N for some time now. Ever since she became the “hero of Hogwarts” (a title she loathed to be remembered by), he’d had his eye on her. She had always felt it was less than actual attraction and more of a claim to fame that had him on her tail. But he was persistent.

“Why won’t you let me take you out, Y/N? We could end up enjoying ourselves, you know. I pride myself in being good company.”

“Because I don’t want to , Leander.” She was growing exasperated with him quickly.

“Want to? Or don’t think you can?” Leander frowned at her. “I know your friends with Sallow, and if I’d hazard a guess, I’d say he’s trying to poison you against me.”

She stopped walking, aghast. “I’d say it’s yourself who led to any ill-feelings I have toward you.”

“Then why not give a chance at settling some of those ill-feelings?”

Her fists clenched at her sides, and before she knew what she was saying, the words came tumbling out of her mouth—the words she almost immediately grew to regret.

And now in the present, Sebastian's eyes narrowed. “That prat? What about him?”

Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at his sour reaction. “Well, it’s to do with him. You see, he keeps asking me out—”

“You’re not planning on saying yes, are you?” he asked, an edge to his voice. Ah, that Slytherin-Gryffindor rivalry.

“Of course not! Like you said, he’s a prat. A prat who won’t take no for an answer. Well, at least he wouldn’t, until I told him was already seeing someone…” She bit her lip, looking away from him.

Sebastian’s eyebrows raised. “You’re seeing someone? That’s news to him and me both, though I thought as your best friend I’d be a bit more entitled to that information.”

“That’s the whole problem, Sebastian! I’m not seeing anyone. I just needed a way to get him off my back, and now he’s suspicious, it was obvious he didn’t believe me—”

She was interrupted by a laugh. Sebastian was holding his arms over his stomach, nearly bent in half with the laughter shaking his body.

“You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

“I said no such thing.” He stood up straight again, still chuckling. “So, you need someone to pretend to be courting you, is that it?”

She blushed deeply, covering her face with her hands. “Yes, Sebastian. That’s what I need help with.”

“Well, I’m honored.” He grinned ear to ear. “What made you choose me over Ominis, if I may ask?”

“For one, most everyone has heard he’s courting Anne now, which would add some tension if he was supposedly courting both of us—”

“Ah, right,” Sebastian conceded. Ominis and Anne’s developing relationship was rather new, one that had completely blindsided Sebastian (which was ridiculous in Y/N’s opinion, she could see it from a mile away. The protective twin had simply been in denial), though he had approved nonetheless.

“And secondly, to be quite frank, Prewett… has a stronger distaste for you than for Ominis. I figured it would throw him off his game a bit more.”

“Strategic. I like it.” He clapped his hands together. “So, when do we start?”

Y/N brightened. “You’ll help me then?”

“Of course. You’re my best friend, Y/N, I’m happy to keep a slimy chap like Prewett off your back any day.”

She launched herself forward, tackling Sebastian in a hug. “Oh, thank you! You’re bloody brilliant, you know that?”

He gave a sly smile. “‘Course I do, though it’s nice to be reminded of it now and again.”

The two sat side by side, snacking on some of the nicked food they’d stored in the Undercroft. After practicing spells for a bit, they had gotten hungry and decided to take a break. Y/N broke a roll she was holding in half, setting one part into Sebastian’s outstretched hand. It was an unspoken system between them—always sharing what they ate.

“So,” Sebastian said between bites. “We should probably discuss the details of our arrangement, shouldn’t we?”

She glared at him. “You want some sort of payment for it?”

He put his hands up in surrender. “Not at all. I’m doing this out of the kindness of my heart. And seeing Prewett’s humiliated face.” He smiled at the chuckle this brought out of her. “I meant things like how long we plan to ‘court’, or how we want to go about… displaying it.”

She nodded, thinking. “Well, the Yule Ball is coming up. I think it’s part of why he’s upping his game.”

He hummed in agreement. “That’s in what, three weeks, is it?”

“Precisely. I figured we could court until a few days before the ball, then ‘break it off’. That way, you could ask whoever you wanted to be your date, and I could attend with Ominis as he helps me through my devastating heartbreak, like the true friend he is.”

Sebastian chuckled. “Sensible. Speaking of Ominis, you know we’re going to have to tell him we’re faking it, don’t you?”

“Oh, absolutely. He wouldn’t believe it otherwise. He’d call it out for what it was, and it’d all crumble before it started!”

Sebastian laughed. “He’s a decent liar. And he hates Prewett too, he won’t have any qualms with it.”

A chuckle made its way past her lips as she pressed another bit of food into Sebastian’s hand. “Now, as far as the ‘displaying it’ nonsense goes…”

Sebastian nodded solemnly. “This will be the most difficult part. I’ll have to tolerate your company, won’t I?”

The shove she gave him nearly tipped him over.

“Come on now! You know I’m joking!”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s me that tolerates you , we both know that. We’ll have to do a bit more than tolerate, anyway. I don’t imagine it’ll be too much, though. Perhaps holding hands, and occasional loving embrace, that sort of thing.”

“So I’m not getting a proper snog out of you is what I’m hearing?”

This time, the shove did tip him over. “You’re nothing but an overconfident rake, Sebastian Sallow!” Even as she said it, she smiled down at him.

“I’m not, and you know it. I’m a right and proper gentleman.”

“Right and proper gentlemen don’t talk about snogging in front of young ladies.”

“You’re my best friend, Y/N, you hardly count as a lady.”

There was a slight twinge of pain in her chest as he said those words. Since when did she not count as a lady? Sure, she preferred trousers to skirts and dresses, but they were simply more practical. She could out duel any witch or wizard who stood against her, but she liked to think she kept some amount of poise while doing so. And she thought herself quite respectable, at least until she got talking to Sebastian… perhaps he had a bit of a point. Most ladies would be aghast at arranging a fake-courting situation, and talking so plainly while doing so, but it was Sebastian . He felt more of an extension of herself at times than a boy she had met just over two years ago.

Y/N was in the middle of rolling her eyes when another voice joined the conversation. “What was that about snogging? Do the two of you need a moment alone?”

She grinned at the sight of Ominis walking toward them, his wand outstretched. “Oh, thank God you’re here Ominis. I don’t know if I could have spent another moment in the hell that is Sebastian’s company.”

“If that’s really how you feel, Y/N, our plan is doomed to fail,” Sebastian said, gathering more of their nicked food to share with the new addition.

“Plan? What trouble are you trying to get me into now?” Ominis asked as he sat on the floor beside them. Sebastian pressed an apple tart into his hand.

“Oh, nothing horrible, unless you think giving Prewett a heart attack is indecent,” Sebastian said.

“As… un-fond of Prewett I am, I still need to know what’s happening before I let anything proceed. What is it?”

Y/N sighed. “Well, Ominis, as someone who shares similar sentiments about Prewett, I… needed a way to get him to stop asking to take me out. I stupidly told him I was seeing someone, and Sebastian has graciously decided to step in and be that someone. Pretend to be that someone, I guess I should say.”

Ominis frowned. “And you need my help in what way?”

“Not in any way, really. Just go with it. Confirm it if people ask. Spread rumors when possible,” Sebastian said.

Ominis thought hard. Y/N could practically see the gears turning in his head, calculating every which way things could backfire. After a few moments, he seemed to come to the conclusion that nothing could go too terribly wrong. “All right. Whatever keeps Prewett at bay.”

Y/N threw an arm around him, startling him a bit. “Thank you, Ominis.”

He chuckled. “Anything for you. Now, if only I had someone to place bets with on how long the pair of you last.”

Ominis and Sebastian walked side by side back to the Slytherin common room. Y/N had departed a while before them, needing to catch up on a bit of her homework.

“Seems like an interesting plan the two of you have conceived,” Ominis said.

“Interesting indeed. Though I do have to say, it was pretty much Y/N who conceived it,” Sebastian replied easily.

“It’ll be… fascinating to see the two of you pretend to be a couple.” Ominis sounded thoughtful.

Sebastian frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well, if I’m honest, there’s been times I thought the two of you might have something between you.” Ominis tilted his head to face Sebastian a little bit more. “Never certain of it, though. Should I have been certain of it?”

His frown deepened. “Are you trying to say that one of us has feelings for the other?”

Ominis shrugged. “More or less. Any truth to that?”

Sebastian found himself thinking about the thought of that. Truth be told, he hadn’t done much of it before. He enjoyed spending time with Y/N, of course. It was always fun to throw her off by saying something unexpected. What was more was how well she did the same thing back. It kept him on his toes, always letting him expect the unexpected. She was talented, too, of course. He’d never forget that first duel they had, nor the ones they fought side by side in afterwards. She was an incredible witch. Beautiful, too, though that was common knowledge among most of the students in their year. It was just a fact. A statement. Y/N was beautiful, talented, funny, and exciting. Sebastian knew all of these things–-that didn’t mean he liked her, did it?

He realized there had been a bit too much of a pause after Ominis’s question. He quickly spat out the conclusion he had drawn to. “No, Ominis. She’s my best friend, right beside you. I haven’t felt that way, and I seriously doubt she’d ever feel that way towards me. Purely platonic.”

Ominis nodded, seeming like he expected as much. “Figured. Was just curious if this whole arrangement would bring anything out of the two of you. Perhaps it’s for the best—if the two of you really did start courting, I have a feeling the very walls of Hogwarts would have their days numbered.”

“Are you saying we’d be an awful couple?”

“Awful, or perfect together. I don’t think the castle would stand a chance at your mayhem in either case.”

Sebastian chuckled before changing the subject. What he had told Ominis had been true… hadn’t it? She was his best friend. They were nothing more, never had been, and never would be.

So why was he so glad Ominis couldn’t see how flushed he’d gotten at the thought?

Y/N picked at her breakfast the next morning—she’d only eaten a couple bites of her tart before setting it back on her plate, moving her eggs around instead. She imagined this is what it felt like for those on the Quidditch teams before a match. It was only by sheer luck that none of her friends around her seemed to notice her unease; perhaps they figured she got a bad night of sleep or something. They talked animatedly to one another. Y/N tried to listen, but found herself distracted with constant glances at the door.

It was very usual for Sebastian to be late to breakfast—or at times to miss it entirely. With all his late night mischief, he tended to sleep in as much as possible before coming down at the last minute to grab some leftover pastry and rush off to class. She started to wonder if he would show at all before they had to start heading to Defense Against the Dark Arts.

As if the thought had brought him into existence, Sebastian Sallow strode through the doors of the Great Hall, Ominis trailing behind. He glanced quickly around the room before his eyes landed on Y/N, a smile appearing on his face as he walked over.

Seeing him let something settle in Y/N’s stomach. What was she so worried about? Of course he would show up for her. He always had, hadn’t he?

Sebastian arrived at Y/N’s table and didn’t hesitate to reach over her, grabbing an apple off her plate. “Lovely morning, isn’t it?”

Y/N scoffed. “Have you even looked outside yet? It’s a blizzard out there. I’m only grateful we don’t have to walk to Herbology in this mess.”

He shrugged. “Just because it’s snowing doesn’t mean it’s not lovely.”

A chuckle escaped her lips. “I suppose.”

He held out a hand to her, a prompting to head to class. “Come on then. Best we start our way over.”

The gesture wasn’t unusual coming from him, so she dedn’t hesitate to take his hand and stand. However, instead of letting their hands slide apart, his grip tightened as he laced his fingers between hers.

She turned away from him quickly, heading straight for the door. With their hands interlocked, he had no choice but to follow. She hoped she had turned quickly enough to keep him from seeing the blush that had crept up her cheeks. He had done that so… naturally. It stirred something inside her. She figured it was just her being impressed with his acting skills, and God knows Sebastian’s ego was already big enough—no need to let him know her astonishment of his actions to boost it further.

Once she felt she had collected herself enough, she turned her head to face him. “Did you finish your essay yet?”

He frowned. “What essay?”

“The one Professor Sharp assigned us in Veritaserum. Figured you’d find the topic interesting.”

His eyes lit up a bit. “Ah, yes, that one. Haven’t even started it, actually. Though I’m not nervous—I’d say the both of us know plenty to fill eleven inches of parchment.” He winked down at her, eliciting a smile on her lips. He was right about that. There was a period of time in their sixth year where Sebastian became determined to brew as many restricted potions as he could get the ingredients for. Veritaserum had been included in these, and the batch had resulted in an interesting night with Sebastian, Ominis, and Y/N spilling secret opinions on their classmates. “Perhaps we should brew another batch. I have a feeling Ominis isn’t telling me all the details of his letters with Anne.”

Y/N laughed and bumped shoulders with him, their interlocked hands keeping them both balanced. “Don’t torture your best friend for details about love letters, with you sister, no less.”

“Exactly! She’s my sister, I have a right to know!”

“I have the distinct feeling you wouldn’t want to know all the mushy things they write to each other.”

He rolls his eyes, but any annoyance comes across as ingenuine with the grin plastered on his face. “I’m not going to admit it, but maybe you’re right.” He leads them into the classroom, walking to the desk where Ominis already sat. Sebastian pulled out Y/N’s chair, allowing her to sit before taking his own beside her. A nice touch, she thought. Very in character.

Ominis chuckled to Y/N’s side. “The rumors have already begun. I overheard Poppy whispering about the two of you holding hands to someone, now that she’s got ahold of it, it’ll spread fast.”

Y/N grinned, meeting eyes with Sebastian beside her to see the smirk that had settled on his face. He stretched his arm above him, letting it settle on Y/N’s chair behind her. This was all too simple

The rest of the day continued on much the same. Sebastian was quick to hold her hand between classes, and with that the whispers around them became increasingly pronounced. It seemed too easy, really—Y/N supposed her close friendship to the boy leading up to this gave them some credibility as a believable pair.

By dinner, she couldn’t help but notice Leander Prewett positively fuming at the sight of them. He glared past all the tables, seemingly unable to tear his gaze away from Sebastian as he helped load food onto Y/N’s plate. She had to stifle a laugh.

“God, would you look at the awful sight of him?” she said, pulling her plate in front of her. “He’s livid.”

Sebastian smiled mischievously. “It’s beautiful to behold, really.”

Ominis frowned. “Well don’t leave me out of it.”

“Oh, you’re not missing much,” Sebastian replied, finishing up with his own plate and getting ready to dive into the meal. “Just Prewett tried to curse me with his glare alone. I suppose I should be grateful he never took to nonverbal spells.”

It wasn’t long until Imelda came over to the trio, Poppy and Natty trailing close behind her. Y/N held back a wince. Besides the two boys sat on either side of her, these three were her best friends. It was inevitable that they would confront her—especially with Imelda being, well, Imelda.

Her arms were crossed over her chest, a determined look in her eye. Natty stood off to one side, looking fairly unconcerned. Poppy, on the other hand, seemed nearly fearful.

“So,” Imelda said, looking between Y/N and Sebastian. “There have been rumors.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “About me? Pray tell.”

“About the two of you. ” She gave a tilt of her head to indicate Sebastian.

“I’m right here, you know,” he said.

“So am I,” Ominis interjected. “Though go on treating me like a broken broom, if you’d like.”

Y/N held back a laugh, trying to remain serious. Imelda rolled her eyes. “Just tell us if it’s true or not. Are the two of you… courting?”

Y/N shot a quick glance at Sebastian. The slight up-ticks in the corners of his mouth were all the reassurance she needed. “That we are. I’m surprised it took you all the entire day to ask me about it.”

Poppy let herself smile a bit behind Imelda. Funny, Y/N thought. She looked pretty happy about the development.

“We were surprised we weren’t the first to know,” Natty said.

“Well, to be fair, it’s a very new thing.”

“Long time coming, though,” Ominis mumbled.

Imelda’s suspicious eyes softened. “Well, alright. We just wanted to… confirm it, I suppose. It all seems a bit out of the blue, to be fair.”

Y/N shrugged, thinking fast. “These sort of things almost always are, aren’t they?”

“Not usually,” Poppy piped up.

“Well, this one was. In any case, I promise I’ll tell you all the whole story soon enough.”

“You better, L/N, or I’ll knock you off your broom,” Imelda said, smiling.

Y/N grinned back. “If you can catch me, that is.”

Imelda chuckled, waving a quick goodbye and leaving. Natty followed, but Poppy lingered for a moment. “She means well, you know. And for the record, I think the two of you complement each other.”  After that, she scurried away.

Y/N turned back to Sebastian. Was his face a bit red? No, couldn’t be… though she admitted that last comment from Poppy had thrown her off a bit. “Well, the cat’s out of the bag.”

Sebastian smiled. “That it is. Seems like you have a story to come up with, too. I only ask you don’t make me too pathetic.”

Y/N groaned. “Bloody hell.”

When the next morning rolled around, Y/N somehow wasn’t surprised to see Sebastian standing at the entrance to the Great Hall. It seemed that his dedication to ‘courting’ her had trumped his need for a little more extra sleep. As she walked toward him, she watched his eyes scan the throng of students rushing back and forth. Something stirred in her stomach as she saw how intently he looked through everyone—the fact that his eyes were searching for none other than her.  

How wonderful to have a friend who looked forward to seeing her that much.

Finally, his eyes landed on her. He… lit up, for the lack of a better term. A smile settled onto his face, and he pushed off of the wall he’d been leaning on, standing straighter. It was only a moment later he met her by her side.

“Morning, darling,” he said, as if he’d been waiting since the day before to say it.

That silly feeling in her stomach flared up again. “Good morning. I see the weather hasn’t gotten you down.”

His grin widened. “Down? You’re joking me, you know I love the snow.”

That much is true. She’d been teasing him all winter for that very fact; he’d looked like a child when Mr. Moon had started putting out the Christmas decorations—that elation only grew as the first flakes of snow settled on the castle grounds.

“It’s beautiful, Y/N, I seriously can’t see how you dislike it,” he says, taking her hand and leading her to the table.

“I don’t dislike it, it’s just… cold,” she replied. It was an honest answer. She’d always appreciated the snow from the distance; it was quite lovely to see Hogwarts and the surrounding hamlets covered in a blanket of snow. However, she wasn’t a fan of the chill–-it greatly limited her ability to go out and explore.

Sebastian sat down beside her. “Well then, I’ll take it as my responsibility as your companion to keep you warm.”

She wished she had something witty to reply back with. Instead, a blush fought its way to her face and she frowned. “You… yes. Do that, then.” She cleared her throat, looking around. “Where’s Ominis at?”

“Common room. He’ll be down shortly, he was just sending another letter to Anne before coming.”

She nodded. “We have Herbology today.”

“That we do.” He chuckled. “Merlin, am I excited to see Prewett’s face up close.”

“I hope it’s not too close. I wouldn’t put it past him if he were to try to duel you.”

“I almost hope he does,” Sebastian said, pulling some of the food off of Y/N’s plate. She slapped his hand away, but it was already too late. “I’d love to hex him onto his arse again.”

She shot him a warning glare. “Don’t you go starting anything. Ominis would kill us both if he had to pull his strings.”

He puts his hands up in a surrender. “Any spells I cast will be in self-defense only. I promise you that.”

It’s not long after that Ominis joins them, and then they were off to class. Once again, Sebastian’s hand found Y/N’s. There was still that slight pull in her stomach, a trace of unease in his fingertips. Normal things, she was sure, to have when holding hands with your best friend.

When they arrived in Herbology, the trio set themselves up at a table. The rest of the students came piling in and Y/N distinctly ignored the piercing gaze of Leander Prewett. She felt it on the back of her neck as class began and Professor Garlick gave instructions. It lingered as Sebastian pulled the pot they would be sharing onto the table, not giving her the chance to do it herself. And as the three of them spread soil into the pot, it bore into her still, not letting up for even a moment.

She felt she was about to combust from the heat of it when she noticed Sebastian’s grin beside her. Of course he was enjoying the whole thing—she’d have been a fool to think he’d feel any differently. She lightly slaped his arm with her gloved hand.

His eyebrows raised, not even phased by the ‘attack’, if one could consider it that. “And what was that for?”

“You’re enjoying yourself entirely too much .”

“Really? I was about to step it up a notch, I feel I’m not enjoying the moment to its fullest.”

And obviously, she couldn’t help but laugh at that. She always seemed to have a weakness for his quick remarks. His grin stretched further, if possible.

“Now, my dear, allow me to gather some seeds.” His face became terribly serious. “Don’t fret, I’ll only be gone a moment.”

She wanted to roll her eyes as he left, but instead, another chuckle made its way through her. Ominis let out a sigh. “And I thought he was insufferable before the two of you started this nonsense.”

The class carried on and Y/N found herself baffled again and again by Sebastian’s antics. First he insisted on not letting her leave the table for anything, running back and forth in the classroom to gather supplies. (Ominis didn’t complain about this aspect; he was completely content letting him weave through the tables like a mad-man.) Then he pulled the bag of soil away from her. When she tried to reason with him, he rattled on about how no lovely lady like her should get her hands dirty, to which she reminded him of all of the many, many times she’d proved herself most unlady-like in that sense. He didn’t relent. And finally, when class was over, he stood faster than a blink, offering his hand to help her up—to which, she rolled her eyes and took. It wasn’t this that surprised her—no, helping her up wasn’t extreme. It wasn’t something she would have even found outside of their friendship on a normal day. What caught her off guard was the bow he bent into as she stood, and the lips that pressed lightly, so very lightly , on the back of her hand. Her eyes widened.

He really was insistent on milking every last ounce of Prewett’s agony, wasn’t he?

In the bustle of students getting up and heading to the door, she doubted that many, if any at all, had seen this supposed display of affection. Even so, a tingle shot throughout her, settling right onto her warm cheeks. It was nerves, she reasoned. She was nervous about being caught in the scandal of one such as Sebastian Sallow being so physically affectionate toward her.

But as a figure stormed out of class, she realized the action had not gone completely unnoticed—as was the intention, she was sure. Leander Prewett strode past them, ears redder than the accents on his robes.

She’d have slapped the self-satisfied smirk off of Sebastian’s face if it didn’t look so bloody good on him. You know, in a completely platonic way.

Obviously.

They walked to Potions, and Y/N couldn’t help but notice that Ominis seemed in an awfully good mood, too. “I’m assuming the tantrum-like stomping I heard leaving the class was Prewett?”

“Tantrum-like,” Sebastian echoed. “A fitting way to describe him.”

“The two of you are awful, you know that?” Y/N said. She couldn’t help but be quite pleased with the outcome as well, though.

“‘Course we know that,” Sebastian replied.

Ominis grinned. “We’re not in Slytherin for nothing. Though to be a little fair to Prewett, I myself was getting a bit nauseous in there listening to the two of you. I only kept it together knowing it’s an over-the-top ruse.”

Sebastian scoffed. “Over-the-top. Not in the slightest, my dear Ominis. You just don’t know the first thing about romance.”

Y/N made no comment, though she was fairly certain Sebastian didn’t know much more about romance, either… He was doing a decent job at pretending to know, though.

They were fast approaching the classroom, and she winced to see Leander standing in the corridor leading up to class, arms folded and leaning against the wall in a sulk. His eyes shot up when he heard their footsteps, and he glared daggers directly at Sebastian. As they approached, he stood straighter, glancing between the three of them. She could see the nerves hidden behind his eyes.

“Could I talk to you, Y/N?” His eyes narrowed at Sebastian coldly. “ Privately?”

Sebastian tensed beside her. She was well aware of his protective streak. It was as deeply rooted in him as his charm, immovable as the freckles on his face. It was a part of her dear friend she both admired and grew tiresome of. But she was (almost) always good at talking him down, wasn’t she?

She tightened her grip on his hand. This time, it was a gesture of reassurance, not any sort of display for Leander–-though it could easily be taken as such. She looked up at him. “Go ahead into class. I’ll be right there, alright?”

He took a deep breath. It shuddered a bit on the way out. After a moment, he nodded. “Alright. But if it takes more than a few minutes, I’m coming back for you.”

He let go of her hand, and she found herself missing the comfort of the contact as he and Ominis continued down the corridor. She now faced Leander alone. “What is it you wanted to speak about?”

The red-head’s frown deepened. “It… seems,” he started, speaking as if each word physically pained him. “That you and Sallow are… involved. ”

About as much as she had been expecting. “And how is that your business?”

He gaped at her, as if she dare question his involvement in her affairs. “Because I thought you were a sensible person, Y/N. I still think you are, you’re just lost in this… nonsense.”

A small flame flickered somewhere in her chest. “Nonsense, you say?”

“Alright. It’s more than nonsense. It’s complete and utter rubbish. You’re blinded by Sallow, his false charm and party tricks.” Leanders fist clenched at his side, voice growing louder. “You’re better than this. Better than him. ”

Her jaw tightened. The flicker grew, sending heat down her arms and legs. “You’ll stop talking now, if you know what’s good for you.”

“No, Y/N. It’s I who knows what’s good for you. And what isn’t good for you is that conniving, sorry prick with no life ahead of him. He’s in detention every night. He’s ambitious for nothing but trouble, bound for nothing but a penniless life and an early grave.”

She hadn’t realized she’d pulled her wand out until it was aimed squarely at the Gryffindor’s chest. A raging fire burned inside of her, aching, needing to burst in a wave of fury. She had never felt anything like it.

It surprised her how steady the words were when she spoke them, how in control she was of the fire. “You are a fraction of the man Sebastian Sallow is. You know nothing of who he is, how it’s me who is undeserving of him . I would happily live a thousand penniless lives by his side before I ever even considered wasting a mere moment with you. So I’d suggest doing the greatest kindness you have the ability to provide, and piss off.”

Leander Prewett was stunned speechless. He stared at the girl–-no, the beast stood in front of him, at the wand poised to end him, and in the wisest decision he’d ever make, fled.  

Y/N stood in the hall, just breathing for a moment. How dare he—how dare he even suggest he knew a single thing about her Sebastian? He saw only what he chose to, only what his jealousy allowed him. He was wrong.

It was a minute or two before she walked toward the classroom, still half-blind in her anger. It was this blindness that kept her from seeing the figure using a poor disillusionment charm, just a few steps down the hall.

Sebastian slipped into the classroom just after Y/N, charm dispelling as he entered the door. He saw Ominis’s head face toward them, and he’s sure he can feel the anger rolling off of her in waves. It was so tangible that there was no need for sight in sensing it.

She plopped into her usual seat next to Natty, not noticing how Sebastian sat after her at his own desk, even when he had been given very specific instructions to go on ahead of her.

As for his part in the incident, he was stunned .

He didn’t think he’d ever taken a Stupefy that had affected him as much as this.

While Ominis had continued down to the classroom, Sebastian had cast a disillusionment charm over himself and hid against the wall. He was very aware that this was likely an invasion of privacy, and that Ominis was right in scoffing and rolling his eyes at the action, but he was Sebastian Sallow, for Salazar’s sake. How could he resist listening in to a conversation bound to be about him, especially when the circumstances for eavesdropping were so simple?

(There was also the fact that something could go wrong. And if it did, he couldn’t leave the girl he was supposed to be courting to fend off Prewett on her own, as capable as she was.)

He’d heard every word leave Prewett’s mouth. He’d been ready to jump out and defend his honor when Y/N had done so for him.

And what a bang-up job she’d done, hadn’t she?

The words still echoed in his head. A thousand lifetimes… the ridiculous claim that she didn’t deserve him. He couldn’t wrap his head around any of it.

Ominis leaned over to whisper, pulling Sebastian out of his head and into the reality of Sharp’s droning about their assignment. “Seems like the conversation went swimmingly. Is she mad at you for butting in?”

“I didn’t butt in,” Sebastian whispered back. “She handled herself just fine.”

“It is Y/N we’re talking about, we’ve both known she’s completely capable for years now,” Ominis said. He frowned. “She’s still angry, though, isn’t she?”

“Oh she’s fuming. ” It was true. Natsai was looking quizzically at her friend, concerned at her stiff posture and clenched jaw.

“What is it she’s mad about?”

“She—” He found himself not wanting to say it. Not wanting Ominis to read into the things she had said, make them into something they weren’t.

He didn’t want to allow himself to read into it, either.

“Prewett was being a pratt. Said he knew her better, tried to convince her he knew better than she did. She told him to piss off. ”

That was enough of the truth, wasn’t it?

Ominis seemed to think so, giving a low hum. “Serves him right.”

Y/N didn’t calm down, even when the instructions were over and she and Natty went to gather the ingredients for their potions. Sebastian kept an eye on her, watching her chop ginger with much more force than was necessary. It doesn’t look like she told Natty anything–-the poor Gryffindor looked at her friend, completely at a loss. Blimey, he might’ve thought he was looking in a mirror. Sebastian decided he better do something about the situation.

He abandoned his meager start to the assignment and strided over to Y/N’s table, approaching her from behind. “I do believe the textbook says to cut the ginger into even slices, not to mutilate it.”

She gave a small start, turning to face him. He sees just a bit of the fury drop off her shoulders as they meet eyes. She let out a sigh, looking down at the ginger and wincing. “I’ve made a mess of it, haven’t I?”

“I bit, if I have to admit it.”

She groaned. “I’m sorry, he’s just… it was infuriating.”

“Don’t apologize to me, apologize to your poor ginger. Let’s put it out of its misery, shall we?” He pulled out his wand, vanishing the sorry mess on her table before summoning the untouched ingredient he’d left on his desk. He set it down, smiling at her. “There. A fresh start.”

“Thank you.” He can tell by the look in her eyes that it’s more than just the ginger she’s talking about

“No, thank you.” As if it had a mind of its own, his hand found hers, giving it a light squeeze. “I quite hope he takes your advice and pisses off for the foreseeable future.”

Her mouth dropped open, but before she could say a word, he winked and walked back to his table.

The next few days went off without a hitch. Y/N and Sebastian played the part of the ideal courting couple, and none were the wiser. With each passing day, it became easier to hold hands, to lean in close and share conspiring whispers, to flirt and blush and play pretend.

(Curiously, the strange feeling in her stomach didn’t stop, as natural as these things became. Always nervous someone would see through it, she supposed.)

The rumors that had once been the very exciting topic of meals and corridor whispers turned slowly into accepted truth. There seemed to be no denying it. And as the Yule Ball loomed nearer, Y/N felt more and more at ease that she would not be asked to attend with Leander Prewett. He’d kept his distance since the Incident, as she’d taken to calling it, but felt that she’d be celebrating too soon if she thought he was done for good.

The Incident seemed not only to have an effect on Prewett. She hadn’t foreseen the consequences of Sebastian overhearing what she said, but really she didn’t think she would go back and change a single word she’d uttered. It had all been true. She knew him very well, as a friend, and she’d spend a thousand lifetimes with him, as a friend, and she sure as hell didn’t deserve him, as the bloody brilliant and completely wonderful friend he was.

Sebastian knew that.

Neither of them had spoken about it. They didn’t need to. There was nothing to address. Prewett had been stupid, Y/N had defended Sebastian, like a good friend , end of story.

So why did she still feel the weight of it whenever she saw him?

She figured it must be the leftover anger that coursed through her when she thought of Leander’s words, or the guilt that he had ever had to hear such things said about him. Yes, that was it. She wanted to reassure him. Say it straight to his face that that prat Prewett had it all wrong, and that he shouldn’t ever even consider things he said as truth. But that would have been an awkward conversation, and it was all implied anyway, so each time she thought about the Incident, she’d push it to the back of her mind.

She had been doing just that when Imelda caught her arm in the courtyard. “There you are! We’ve been trying to talk to you for ages .”

Y/N smiled at her, seeing Poppy in tow. “Oh? What about?”

Imelda rolled her eyes. “Don’t play coy, L/N. You still never told us the story about you and Sebastian. I mean, it's increasingly obvious the two of you are courting, but how? When? Why?”

“And have you kissed him yet?” Poppy added, grinning.

Y/N’s eyes went wide. “Poppy!”

The Hufflepuff smiled not-so-innocently.

Y/N shook her head in exasperation. “Look, it’s not as exciting as you both seem to think it is. We were walking together one day, he said he cared for me a bit more than friends, I said I felt the same, and here we are. And no, we haven’t kissed.” She’d thought carefully about the story she’d tell them, coming to the conclusion that a short, safe story was best. Fleshing it out with extreme detail would make it outlandish.

It was also hard for Y/N to think about how she and Sebastian might get together, for some reason. It caused that silly feeling in her stomach to turn.

Imelda frowned. “If I’m honest, I expected there to be a bit more to it. It is Sallow we’re talking about.”

Oh dear. Y/N shrugged, trying to hide any discomfort in the action. “Don’t know what to tell you. Sorry to disappoint.”

“You two have been getting along, though, haven’t you?” Poppy asked. “It seems like you are.”

“Of course we have been,” Y/N answered. “I mean, we were best friends before. Most of it feels… natural, really. Just a few added things. It’s… nice.” She was surprised that she didn’t get that uneasy feeling she normally had when telling a lie at those words.

They stopped pestering her about Sebastian (thankfully, she wasn't as good at coming up with lies on the spot as he is) and instead caught up on other things—homework, poachers, Quidditch, the usual. It was good spending some time with them. She almost didn’t notice the cold of the courtyard. Almost.  

She started shivering at some point—with just her uniform and robe, the chill was quick to settle in. The slight breeze didn’t help, either, whipping away any warmth before she could keep it.

“And just what are you doing out here without a proper coat?” a voice said from behind her. She felt a bit warmer already. Sebastian smirked from beside her, looking over her shivering frame.

“I wasn’t planning on spending a lot of time here, we just… happened to meet,” Y/N explained.

He gave a playful scoff. “Ridiculous. Here, take this,” he said, removing the scarf from around his neck. Her hand opened to grab it, but… there was no need. Instead, he stood directly in front of her, passing the scarf over her shoulders and tying it snuggly without a word. He ran a hand against it, smoothing it out and pushing her hair out of her face. “There we go. Color suits you pretty nicely, too.”

He seemed very satisfied with his handiwork, taking a small step back to admire it. There were several moments of silence until Y/N realized she should probably say something.

“Um, thank you. That’s… much better now.” She was in fact, very warm now.

He chuckled. “I’ll see you later, darling.” And with that, he left.

She didn’t feel the chill at all anymore. Her stomach fluttered with that silly feeling, and her head spun with the scent of old parchment and fireplaces.

The snow fell in gentle flakes around her, and she realized it really was beautiful when she could feel the cold.

The Yule Ball was now only ten days away. It had come up faster than Sebastian thought it would—very recently, three weeks had seemed like a lifetime. Now each day went faster than the last.

With the winter chill growing ever stronger, Y/N had taken to wearing Sebastian’s scarf constantly. She could have swapped her own scarf out and returned his own, but… she hadn’t. He reminded himself that it added a very believable level to their act. It was physical proof that they were tied together, present even when they weren’t standing side by side. When they were apart, Sebastian sometimes thought of her somewhere off in the castle, his scarf tied around her neck, and Ominis would have to tap his shoulder out of his distant thoughts.

He wasn’t really sure what that was all about.

But right now, Y/N was by his side, sitting in the grass as they listened to Professor Garlick’s lecture. Herbology was mostly a hands-on event, but as they progressed toward their N.E.W.T.s, there were some plants to study that even Professor Garlick hesitated to put in front of them. Today she had ushered them outside, insisting that if they had to listen to her ramble on, they should at least feel the sun while doing so.

The snow had melted over the last couple of days, leaving the ground drier than it had been all winter. Sebastian missed the white blanket that had coated the trees and fields. He hoped it would snow again before Christmas. While the sun was out, it was still rather cool. Which was why, even in her coat and scarf ( his scarf), Y/N had begun to shiver.

Sebastian chuckled. “Still cold, are we?”

She frowned, giving him a small glare. “What gave it away?” She looked back at Professor Garlick. “I don’t know how I’m going to make it through class without turning into a block of ice.”

“I’ve got an idea. Come here,” he said, scooting closer to her. Before she could protest, he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her softly into his side.

He wasn’t sure what had made him do it. Instinct? His natural and irresistible flirtatious charm? Who knows. But as soon as he had done it, the weight of it settled on him. Other things had become normal. But this, Y/N pressed against his chest, where she could likely feel his rapidly beating heart, this was new. His body stiffened at the realization. Was this ok? Had he gone too far?

For a moment, she also seemed surprised—but only for a moment. He felt her body relax a bit against his, allowing herself to lean into his warmth. He let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding and did the same.

Class continued, and Y/N stopped shivering. (Sebastian found this very fulfilling.) He was hyper aware of her breathing; he’d never heard it so close for so long. Over and over again he found his gaze drifting down to look at her, eyes unconsciously following the slope of her nose and curve of her lips. As soon as he’d realize he was staring, he’d whip his head forward again, begging himself to keep it that way. It never seemed to work.

After what felt like eternity, class ended. Y/N moved to stand, but Sebastian was quicker, jumping to his feet to offer his hand. A mischievous glint twinkled in her eye. She laid back on the ground, reaching up for his hand lazily. “The class really took it out of me. I’m not sure I can go on.”

Sebastian feigned annoyance. “Are you trying to take advantage of my kindness?” He grabbed her hand anyway, attempting to pull her up. She acted like a limp doll. He couldn’t help but laugh at the way she slumped forward when he finally pulled her into an upright sitting position. She stuck her tongue out at him. Leaning down, he grasped her other hand, forcing her to her feet. Still halfway committed to her game, she rose off balance, and to steady her, Sebastian placed a hand on her waist.

When she finally stood straight, he noticed how close the action had made them.

He was still holding her hand, still gripping her waist. He could feel her breath on his lips—it made his heart lurch. For a split second, he could only think of getting closer, seeing how not only her breath felt, but her lips against his—

His hands dropped to his side and he took a large step back. He couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t see the expression she was wearing. He didn’t know what he wanted to find.

So instead, he cleared his throat. “Lot of work to get you on your feet. Come on, those potions won’t brew themselves.”

Smooth, Sebastian.

Ominis Gaunt was no idiot. In fact, he fancied himself pretty sharp, especially when it came to certain topics.

One of these topics happened to be Sebastian Sallow.

He didn’t need working eyes to see that something was changing . Well, less changing, really, and more uncovering what had been there all along. He could hear it in the tone of Sebastian’s voice when he spoke to her, the way it went all soft. He felt it in the way Sebastian froze in place every time she entered a room. There was this small stupid sigh he’d let out when he couldn’t walk her to her next class, a lingering frown that wormed its way into his speech every time she wasn’t around.

They were little things. But they were there.

And now, after that Herbology class, his friend walked beside him in silence . It was something he had scarcely beheld.

Ominis wasn’t completely sure—not yet. But if he’d hazard a guess, he’d say his best friend had fallen in love—he just didn’t know it yet.

It finally hit her when she realized she missed his smell on his scarf.

She’d worn it every day since he gave it to her—it was cold out, why wouldn’t she? Why not appreciate the gift her friend had given her?

Why not take the chance to always feel he was near her, even when he wasn’t?

Over the days, the scent of fireplaces, old parchment, and a trace of his cologne faded away.  She sat in her room and took a deep breath, realizing in that moment that she had spent every moment she could basking in it. It was in the absence that she finally figured out that silly feeling in her stomach. And now that she had a name for it, it was painful.  

She wasn’t supposed to feel this way for a friend—her best friend . She wasn’t supposed to be excited when he held her hand, wasn’t supposed to feel the burn of his hold on her waist, wasn’t supposed to wish he had closed the distance and kissed the life out of her .

She wasn’t supposed to be in love with him.  

Because that’s what it had been all along, hadn’t it? She couldn’t even trace back to the beginning of the feeling, it was like it had been there all along, lingering, waiting to be discovered.

Now that she had, she worried it would destroy her.

There was no chance he felt the same—he would never have agreed to her stupid plan if those feelings had existed. He would have said something a long time ago. Perhaps he would have kissed her in Herbology.

Where was she supposed to go from here? How could she continue with their awful, awful plan, longing in every moment that it was the truth?

How could she give up the chance to pretend it was real, if only for a few days more?

She wouldn’t ruin this. The plan. Their friendship. She would continue on, and when the day came for it to end, she’d be heartbroken, and pretend to be that damn good at acting . She’d get over it, and she’d never let anyone know that she had ever been in love with Sebastian Sallow.

Ominis bounded into the Great Hall, which was a distinctly un-Ominis thing to do. Sebastian raised an eyebrow as his friend approached, grinning ear to ear. “Have you gotten a letter from Anne?”

“I haven’t checked my post yet,” Sebastian answered as Ominis sat in one of the empty seats beside him. Y/N hadn’t come down yet, which was a distinctly un-Y/N thing to do. Blimey, was everyone off today?

“Then I’ll do the pleasure of sharing the good news myself. She’s been feeling well these last several days, and if it keeps up, she plans to come to the Yule Ball!”

Sebastian understood his friend’s good mood immediately—his own heart soared at the thought of his sister enjoying herself and dancing the night away, and didn’t even feel bothered that it would likely be in Ominis’s arms (he had given his approval, after all). “Really? Have you asked her then, officially?”

“Of course. I’ll be right beside her, Sebastian. You won’t have to worry.”

Sebastian patted his oldest friend on the shoulder, grinning right back at him. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“This does leave a bit of a complication, though, doesn’t it?” Ominis said.

Sebastian frowned. “What do you mean?”

His friend sighed. “I was supposed to be going with Y/N after the two of you broke it off… it wasn’t official, or anything, but—”

“Don’t worry about it, Ominis. She wouldn’t want you to miss going with Anne.” Sebastian thought for a moment. “It is rather close to the ball, anyway. Perhaps it would be best if I went with her. Left the ‘breaking it off’ until afterwards.” Why did that thought make his heart beat faster? “If she’ll have me, of course.”

A strange expression crossed Ominis’s face. “That sounds like a wonderful idea. Why don’t you ask her once she arrives?”

“I will.”

For some reason, it became infinitely harder to eat after that conversation. Each bite of Sebastian’s toast had lost its taste, no matter how much butter he put on it. His pumpkin juice was the same.

What if she said no? What if she was disappointed to go with him, her longing lying elsewhere?

And why did he care so much if it did?

He pushed those thoughts aside as she arrived in the Great Hall, uniform slightly rumpled and hair askew. Had she stayed up too late studying?

In any case, he had a question he needed to ask. He rose to meet her, unable to wait for her to sit at the table. She started a bit, looking up at him.

“Morning, Sebastian,” she said.

“Morning. I had… a question to ask you.”

She tilted her head. He wondered if she heard the worried tone in his voice and quickly cleared his throat, trying to get it to leave.

“What’s the question?”

“Well, you see, there’s a bit of great news, and a little bad news that comes with this question.” Her eyebrows furrowed. “Anne is feeling well–well enough that she plans to attend the Yule Ball.”

Her eyes lit up. (He was glad he got to tell her, just so he could see that.) “That’s wonderful! I’ll be so excited to see her! What’s the bad in all of this?”

“She plans to attend with Ominis, who was going to be your date.”

She shakes her head. “That’s alright. I would never want to come between the two of them, I can stay in that night. Be heartbroken, and all that.”

Sebastian shifted on his feet, nervously. His arms came up to cross over his chest in a protective gesture. “But that’s where my question comes in. I thought—and, please feel free to say no to this—that we could go together? Most people would be expecting it anyways, and we could push off the end of our courting a bit, I wouldn’t mind. And it would keep Prewett trying to ask you last minute, I wouldn’t put it past—”

“Sebastian,” Y/N said, smiling. “That sounds wonderful. I’ll look forward to going with you.”

He held back a wide grin. “Good. I figured it would beat sitting in your dormitory being miserable.”

She laughed, and something shifted inside him. “That it will.”

And with that, he took her hand and led her to the table, his smile refusing to be hidden any longer.

The week leading up to the Yule Ball was a frenzy. Students were restless in class, whispering about who was going with who, figuring out if someone didn’t have a date yet, making plans on buying dresses and robes and discussing how to style hair. By the time the last class was out, a mere three days before the dance, the professors were sick of it. There was an excitement in the air—it was difficult not to get swept up into it.

It was inevitable, Y/N realized, that she wound up in the dress shop in Hogsmeade. Imelda, Poppy, and Natty were with her, all trying to find dresses of their own. Poppy had settled on a lovely gown with a light floral print. Natty found a deep maroon one, accented with flecks of gold–-the perfect dress for a proud Gryffindor. Imelda was set on a navy dress, a little less fancy than some of the other ones, insisting she needed to be able to move properly to dance.

Y/N, on the other hand, was at a loss. She felt like she had tried at least a dozen gowns on and hated every single one. She was nervous—more than she’d like to admit. She knew Sebastian didn’t feel the same for her as she did him, but she still wanted to put her best self forward. And part of that meant the perfect dress.

She sighed as the shopkeeper put away yet another reject—this one a frilly pink number than Y/N had nearly vomited on. She buried her face in her hands. “It’s hopeless.”

Poppy came to her side. “Of course it isn’t! We just have to keep looking!”

“What about this one?” Natty asked, pulling a dress forward for them to view. The Gryffindor had a proud glint in her eye, as if she already knew she had won. “I’m sure he’ll love the color.”

That much was sure to be true. It was a deep emerald green, one that Y/N thought would compliment Sebastian’s lovely brown hair nicely. She blushed at the thought, looking closer at the dress. “I can try it on and see.”

As the shopkeeper helped lace up the back, Y/N knew before looking in the mirror that this was the dress she would wear. It was a simple, but a little scandalous—the neckline allowed her collarbones and tops of her shoulders to be put on display, and the short flowing sleeves showed off her arms. It was lovely. She felt lovely.

When she was dressed, her friends grinned at her. “If you don’t get that dress, I’ll force you into it,” Imelda said.

“No need for force,” Y/N said. “I love it.”

She could only hope Sebastian loved it, too—even if it was just as a friend.

Sebastian’s fingers drummed on the table as he stared at the ground of the Undercroft. Ominis gave an annoyed hum. “If you don’t stop that tapping, I may have to blast your fingers off.”

He frowned at his friend, but stopped his tapping. “You act like I killed your puffskein.”  

“If I had a puffskein, and you killed it, I promise I’d act much worse. ”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, trying to read the book on the table in front of him. The words had no meaning to him.

“You’re tapping again.”

Sebastian groaned. “I can’t help it.”

Ominis raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t used to get so antsy without seeing her all day.”

“Y/N’s been gone for hours . Aren’t you a little concerned?”

“She’s dress shopping, Sebastian. I hardly think that’s an event to worry over.”

Sebastian pouted, arms crossed to keep from drumming the table.

“I didn’t say who her was, by the way.”

His head shot over to look at Ominis. “What do you mean?”

“I never mentioned who you were antsy about not seeing. Could have been Anne. Could have been Professor Weasley, for all the context there was. But you thought of Y/N. ” Ominis smiled to himself. “I wonder if it means what I think it means.”

Sebastian swallowed thickly. “And what exactly do you think it means?”  

He shrugged. “That you love her.”

It was like a fire ignited inside his chest. “What are you—why would—I don’t— ”

“With that reaction, I rescind my previous statement.” Ominis grinned. “It’s no longer what I think it means. It’s what I know it means.”

“You don’t know anything, Ominis. I’ve told you before, she's my best friend, I don’t…” he trailed off. He couldn’t say he didn’t.

“Are you quite certain of that?” Ominis closed the book he’d been tracing his wand over with a gentle thud . “Let’s review the facts before we come to a conclusion, dear friend. You’re nervous about the dance tomorrow.”

“It’s a ball, why wouldn’t I be–”

“Hush now, Sebastian. You’re going to listen to me for once in your life. You’re nervous because of her . Think back, is there anyone else you would have asked to the ball?”

Of course there bloody wasn’t. But that was a rule Sebastian made for himself, wasn’t it? Not to think about it? Not to let his heart race, his days revolve around her. Not to admit what these things meant.

“You’re insufferable when she’s gone—and believe me, I know the difference between normal Sebastian and insufferable Sebastian. You trusted her from the moment you saw her. You’d do anything for her, including torturing yourself by going along with this ridiculous scheme of hers. You lie to yourself, again and again, and for what? To protect her? To protect yourself? You love her, Sebastian.”

Sebastian held his head in his hands. He’d put up so many barriers, so many walls around that truth, that he felt himself crumbling. He couldn’t love Y/N, not because she wasn’t worthy of it, not because he didn’t, but because he couldn’t bear the thought of living without her. That was torture. That was insufferable.

The walls had been demolished. The rules all broken. The truth was out there now, spoken into existence by Ominis, and as much as Sebastian longed to put it back in the careful little corner he’d made for it, he couldn’t.

He was supposed to deny every word Ominis said. He was supposed to push these things aside and lie and go back to the way things were. But instead, his voice came out small, uneven, and raw.

“What am I going to do, Ominis?”

For all the snark he gave, Ominis truly cared for his friend. At the sound of his weak voice, he placed a gentle hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. “Telling her would be a good start.”

Sebastian gave a humorless laugh. “As if that wouldn’t ruin everything.”

“I seriously doubt admitting you care for her deeply would result in her hating you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Ominis said. “If she had the capability to hate you, I feel you would have crossed that line long ago.”

“Which is exactly why she could never feel the same.”

Ominis sighed. “Sebastian, throughout everything, she has always been right at your side. I’d say that loyalty reflects feelings a bit deeper than friendship on her part.”

Sebastian didn’t have a reply to that. Admitting to Ominis, to himself, the feelings he had for Y/N had been challenge enough. To consider that Y/N might feel the same… It was too much. Ominis seemed to recognize that. “Look, just… think about it, alright? Go to the ball with her tomorrow. Let yourself enjoy it. Stop acting for one night, and see how it goes.”

Ominis gave him a pat on the shoulder, then rose to his feet. “I’m going to the dormitory. Anne is arriving tomorrow; it’s best if we both get our sleep.”

Sebastian scoffed as his friend left. As if he’d sleep at all after any of that.

The ball was only an hour away. After greeting Anne, Natty, Poppy, and Imelda had whisked Y/N away to begin getting ready. At first, Y/N didn’t understand why so much time was necessary—but as the minutes ticked away, she found herself nervously scrambling to pin her hair. They had all settled themselves in the Room of Requirement, figuring it was the perfect space for all of them to prepare. The other three girls had left just minutes ago, rushing off to see the other girls their year, and Y/N couldn’t help but admire their lovely gowns.

As she was leaving that morning, Y/N had hastily explained to Anne how to get to the room; she could only hope her instructions were clear. Evidently, they were—Anne came bursting into the room, bright smile on her face. She held a dress in her arms. Y/N tore her stare away from the mirror in front of her to turn to the girl. “Anne! You’ve made it! You haven’t left much time to get ready, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” she said, settling in front of the mirror beside her. “But I couldn’t tear myself away. It was wonderful seeing Ominis again.”

“I’m sure he made up for the hardship of seeing your brother,” Y/N joked.

Anne laughed. “And then some. Sebastian left a while ago to get ready. I’m glad he’s taking you, seeing as I stole your intended companion. Quite the plan the three of you had, hm?”

Y/N froze with a pin clutched between her fingers. “Ominis told you about it?”

“He did. I have to say, I’m sorry I missed seeing Prewett’s reaction. From what I’ve heard, you gave him quite the talking to.” Anne turned to the mirror, beginning the work on her own hair.

“O-oh? Well, um, yes, I suppose I did,” Y/N said, trying to distract herself by looking at her reflection. “I do appreciate Sebastian’s help with all of it.”

“He’s horrid, but he’s always there when it truly matters.” Anne glanced over at her. “Your hair looks perfect, why do you keep fidgeting with it?”

Y/N shrugged, trying to maintain a look of innocence. “I just want to look my best.”

“Nervous, are we?”

She froze. “W-why would I be nervous?”

Anne gasped, reaching out to grab Y/N’s arm. “You are nervous! Please, you must tell me, do you fancy him?”

“That… that’s ludicrous, Anne, he’s my best friend, you know that.”

The brunette smirked, and it looked much too like her brother—mischievous glint and all. “I won’t tell him.”

“I…”

Oh, what was the point? Why try to keep it in any longer—it was bound to drive her mad, might as well let someone know why she was doomed for an asylum.

“I do fancy him, Anne. In fact, I fancy him so much, I hardly know what to do with myself.” She sighed heavily. “It’s maddening . I’ve only realized it recently, though I now know I’ve felt this way for much longer than that. And now, with this idiotic plan—” She held her face in her hands. “Well, it’s easy to see how things… how it could be , if he only felt the same.”

She was too busy wallowing in her misery to see Anne’s grin widen with her words. “Perhaps tonight will change things.”

Y/N groaned. “I doubt that. He only asked me because he wanted to make sure Prewett didn’t.”

“And why would he want to make sure Prewett didn’t?”

“Because… because he’s a good friend, Anne.”

Anne shrugged. “I’m going to ask you to do something tonight, Y/N. Oh, quit groaning like you’ve been cursed, it’s not difficult —keep an open mind. That’s all. Try to see what’s there, and not what you’ve been so focused on avoiding. Let yourself be happy tonight.” Anne turned back to the mirror, finishing up her hair. “I won’t push you any more on the subject as long as you try to do that.”

Y/N didn’t think she had much choice but to accept.

As they walked to the ballroom, Y/N could only repeat the words don’t trip over and over again in her mind. Anne had gotten ready quickly, and she looked stunning in her blue dress. Her health had improved greatly in the past few months—a nurse and St. Mungos had been experimenting with different potions to ease her pain, and it had been working. Her face was no longer as thin, and Y/N could finally see her as the trouble-making girl she had always heard about.

Together, they turned the corner that led to the top of the stairs. Ominis and Sebastian stood at the bottom, speaking to one another. They hadn’t noticed them yet. The sight of Sebastian’s well-fitted black suit left her a bit breathless. She took Anne’s hand as they began down the stairs. Sebastian looked up.

If she thought she had been breathless a moment ago, now she was simply drowning . There was a softness in his eyes that traced over her, looking down at her gown and then back up to her face. For a moment, he seemed too stunned to move.  And then, he smiled.  

Oh, God, Y/N. Really don’t trip now.  

He walked with Ominis to the bottom of the stairs. He didn’t take his eyes off of her. He took a deep breath, she thought, and then… relaxed. Something about his disposition changed, ever so slightly.

Her hand slid into his as he offered it. “I can’t begin to describe how wonderful you look.”

His words made her heart race. “You clean up nicely yourself.”

He grinned, holding up his arm to escort her. “Shall we?”

She looped her arm through his. Anne and Ominis followed them. Y/N smiled. “They look happy together, don’t they?” she said softly.

Sebastian hummed in agreement. “There’s a part of me that thinks I should disapprove, but really, I couldn’t ask for someone better for my sister.”

The ballroom was decked ceiling to floor in Christmas decor. Floating lights twinkled through the air, making Y/N stare in in wonder. “It’s beautiful.”

“It is,” Sebastian said quietly. She turned to face him, his own head swiveling away from her. Around them, couples were preparing to dance. He cleared his throat. “May I take this dance?” he said in an overly posh voice, bowing to her.

She laughed. “Careful, you’re sounding a bit like Ominis there.”

He grinned before taking her hand, leading her to the floor. A wave of nerves came over her—she wasn’t much of a dancer. Sebastian seemed to notice this. “Don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you if you step on my feet. For long.”

She hit him on the shoulder. Rolling his eyes, he brought her into position, stepping closer to her. His free hand came to settle on her waist. He held it softly—she could barely feel the weight of it. It wasn’t hesitant, but… gentle. It was careful. She brought her own hand up to his shoulder—only then did she realize how close they truly were.

She could have counted every freckle on his face—and wouldn’t have minded the time it took to do so. His lashes were longer than she remembered. And his eyes—had they always had those flecks of green in them?

The music started, and he began to lead her in a dance.

Any nerves she had felt faded away once she realized how competent of a dancer Sebastian was. He led her effortlessly, bringing her in and out of twists and spins with ease. She found herself getting lost in the motions; it was rather like a duel, in some ways. Her awareness of her body was heightened, having to be ready to react to each move Sebastian made. She and Sebastian had proven themselves to be excellent dueling partners—why would dancing have been any different?

He pulled her into the basic position as the song shifted from one to another. This one was slower, less complex. It allowed them to stay face to face. Y/N grinned. “You never told me you could dance.”

He smirked a bit. “You never asked. My parents taught Anne and I when we were young. Thought it would only be proper for us to know, they at least tried to raise a gentleman.”

She chuckled. “Their efforts have been noticed. Although, it does make me wonder what other secrets my Sebastian might be hiding from me.”

His eyebrows raised. “Oh? Your Sebastian, is it?”

Her mouth opened quickly and then closed. A blush fought its way to her face. “I… This is about you and your secrets, Sebastian. Don’t try to change the subject.”

He laughed. “All in due time, my Y/N .” He didn’t give her the time to reply, pulling her into a quick spin that left her dizzy.

Several more songs came and went, each leaving the pair more restless than the last. It was only with great hesitation that Y/N asked to stop for a drink, thoroughly enjoying the exhilaration of it all. Sebastian led her to a table, returning a moment later with Butterbeer for each of them. Y/N sipped at it eagerly.

“Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves, don’t they?” Y/N said, watching Imelda dance stiffly with the Ravenclaw boy she had come with. As well as she flew, she didn’t move nearly as well on the ground. However, this fact didn’t keep her from smiling and laughing as she danced.

Sebastian nodded from beside her. “It is a bit crowded, though, don’t you think?”

She couldn’t help but agree. The room was nearly stifling. “It is a bit warm.”

“Then let’s go somewhere to cool off for a bit.” He smiled down at her, twinkle in his eye.

“Oh? Do you have something in mind?” she asked with a tilt of the head.

“You’ll see in just a moment.”

He led her out of the ballroom, and even the hallway alone gave her some fresh air she desperately needed. But they didn’t stop there. Instead, he dragged her through hallways and up staircases (and she didn’t even care how far it was—she’d go anywhere with him) until finally, they were at the top of the Astronomy tower.

The cool air hit her skin as she took deep, appreciative breaths. It had been a while since she had been up here—she hadn’t pursued a N.E.W.T. on the subject. The view was astonishing—how had she forgotten it?

Sebastian sat on the ground, overlooking the world around them. He patted the ground beside him, a clear indication to join him.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been up here,” she said, sitting. The moon was dancing in and out of the clouds, its pale light reflecting off of the Black Lake below them.

“I still sneak up here sometimes, to think.”

“Isn’t that what the Undercroft’s for?”

He smiled. “Sure. But sometimes a little risk of getting caught makes things a bit more worth it. Besides, the Undercroft has nothing to this view.”

She hummed in agreement. The heat of the ballroom had disappeared by now, and she found herself starting to shiver in the cold winter air. At the very first trace of this, Sebastian removed his coat, leaning over to wrap it around her shoulders. She was grateful the moon had hidden behind a cloud, concealing the redness in her face. Old parchment and fireplaces. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” He laid back on the ground, staring up at the sky above. “I’m going to be sore until next Tuesday with all that dancing we did.”

She fell back, laying beside him. “Maybe that’s their plan. Tire us all out at the beginning of the break so we don’t have energy to cause any mischief.”

He snorted. “You really think a lack of energy is enough to stop me?”

“Absolutely not. But perhaps the professors underestimated you.”

“Then I’ll have to show them how wrong they are then, won’t I?” He shifted, bringing one arm up behind his neck, resting his head on it. The other—the one next to her— stayed stretched out by his side.

She mirrored his position. “Don’t go too far. Ominis might have your head if he has to save you from expulsion. Again. ”

“He’ll forgive me. He always does.”

It was then she finally felt the heat of his gaze. She turned her head to look at him, meeting his eyes. How long had he been staring at her? There was a softness there—one that had been there all evening. She hadn’t realized it until then, but it dawned on her that the uneasiness, the fear that she had felt before the ball, had disappeared completely from the moment he smiled at her. It occurred to her that she should do something with that courage. She looked him right in the eye, a voice whispering in her mind— tell him. Just tell him you love him.

But he looked away, back up into the clouds. She let out a small sigh, doing the same. Was it really all so hopeless?

A warmth overtook her fingertips as Sebastian took her hand in his. Their fingers intertwined. She could feel the calluses of his thumb brush against her knuckle.

“It’s snowing,” he said softly, barely more than a whisper.

It was. The flakes came down slowly in fluttering paths that made her head spin as she stared up at them. They caught the moonlight, flickering just like the lights in the ballroom.

“It is,” she said. “And you were right. It really is lovely.”

She half expected some witty remark, a Sebastian-esque reply of obviously , he’s always right.

But instead, he just tightened his grip on her hand and watched the snow fall around them.

Four days. That’s how long it had been since the ball, since something had shifted.

Y/N didn’t know how to explain it–-her and Sebastian hadn’t spoken about that night, yet the weight of it was felt in every moment they spent together. They both continued on, pretending to be more than friends, while toeing that very line in reality. The first day or so, this shift had given her hope. Perhaps Sebastian did feel the same. He had held her hand without the world watching. He had looked at her with that softness. It had to mean something, didn’t it?

But the days continued to pass and nothing else changed. If they were still following the initial plan, they were supposed to break the whole thing off any day now. And yet… neither of them had brought it up.

She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t keep living with this in-between thing, caught between a blissful lie and a heartbreaking truth. With every passing hour, it felt heavier and heavier. The words between them piled up. She worried she would soon drown in them.

They were in the courtyard when it finally happened. With the Christmas break, most students had returned home—the quiet wouldn’t last long, though. They would all be back for class the next day. Maybe the thought of the coming hustle and bustle is what drove Sebastian to speak. Y/N had cleared off a bench for the pair of them to sit at, snow lazily falling around them.

“What are we doing?”

Her eyebrows furrowed at his question. “I thought we came out here to enjoy the snow. Isn’t that what we planned on?”

He shook his head, sighing. He couldn’t meet her eyes. “I think we both know that’s not what I’m trying to talk about.”

Oh. Oh. “I… I’m not sure, Sebastian. If… if you want to break it off before everyone gets back, I understand. It would cause less of a stir that way.” I don’t want to break it off. I want to start over. I want to do it right this time around.

“You really want to break it off? After everything?” Where had that softness in his eyes gone?

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Sebastian. Wasn’t that the plan?” Why was she getting angry at him? If he felt the same thing she did, why couldn’t he just say it?

“That damn plan. Is this really all that’s about?” His voice rose in volume. “Still some stupid ploy to keep Prewett away?” He stood up from the bench, moving to pace in front of her.

“I…” She faltered. She watched his movements, back and forth, the way his brow furrowed and his lips fell down into a frown. “I don’t know, Sebastian. Maybe this was all too much to ask from you, but you’re my best friend and I—”

He interrupted her with a scoff. “ Friend. Don’t you know how it kills me to hear you say that?” He turned to face her, eyes aflame. “Since that bloody ball, every time I’ve even thought about you in that way, it tears me to bits. Each time I look at you, all I see is that night in the Astronomy tower, you, and the snow in your hair. It took everything in me not to kiss you that night, don’t you know that?”

She swore she could hear each snowflake hit the ground in the silence that followed. “You… you wanted to kiss me?” Her voice was timid. “Why?”

“Because I love you, Y/N. That’s why.”

And there it was.

Like a dam bursting, the truth poured out. “You asked me to help you with Prewett, and of course I agreed. You’re everything to me, why would I not help you? But then I realize, well I realize it’s you, and it’s always been you. I want it to be real, Y/N. Every last bit of it. I want—”

He hadn’t processed her jumping up from the bench until her lips were pressed against his in a short kiss. He didn’t even have time to close his eyes before she pulled away. Her hand still held his cheek.

He gaped at the girl in front of him. “I… I want… what was I saying?”

She smiled— really smiled, one of those ones done more with the eyes than the mouth. “I'm pretty sure you were telling me that you love me. You kept going on about it, though, so I thought I’d interrupt to say I love you, too.”

He didn’t waste another moment before kissing her. His hands cupped her face, pulling her closer than she ever thought possible. Her own hand skimmed across his cheek and then on the back of his neck, and goodness, was his hair as soft as it looked . The other hand held tightly onto the front of his coat—she swore it was the only thing keeping her on the planet.

It was him who broke the kiss, and she instinctively leaned forward to chase after his lips. He chuckled, pressing his forehead on hers. “I’ve had a thought,” he said, breathless. “I think I’d like to court you, if you’re interested.”

She laughed as he kissed the corner of her lips. “We’ve gone a bit out of order, don’t you think?”

“I couldn’t care less,” he said, moving to kiss her again.

The last coherent thought she could make was that the snow made for a very, very lovely morning.

When the students all arrived the next day to continue classes, no one paid much attention to Y/N L/N and Sebastian Sallow. Old news. An obvious pairing, looking back at it. No one really cared that she wasn’t just sporting a Slytherin scarf around her neck, but a green sweater that was much too big on her.To most, there was no difference in the grins on their faces, the excitement in their voices.  Well, no one except Ominis.

When Sebastian took a seat beside him, Ominis chuckled. “Seems I was right. Absolutely nothing to worry about.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, but his wide grin countered any annoyance he might have felt. “Don’t start.”

As Y/N sat beside him, giving a quick kiss for good morning, he thought that maybe it was ok that Ominis was right every once in a while.

A/N: I really hope you all enjoyed this! I definitely had a lot of fun writing it. This is my first work with Sebastian, and I’m very much looking forward to writing more! I have plans for a few mores oneshots and a series, so stay tuned for those! Thanks for reading :)

[riizeblr]

tutor! sungchan OHHHHHH hed be so angry when you dont get easy and simple stuff

-🧸

rating: 18+. mdni.

content: incel mindset, implied noncon

sungchan's leg shakes under the table, jaw tense, hands formed into tight fists around his pen. his face is taut, his eyes stern and brimming with irritation, his mouth pursed together as he sighs through his nose. even just looking at you makes sungchan's blood bubble in his veins. the look of confusion contorting your features as you stare at the paper sungchan had set in front of you ten minutes ago.

it was only a review. three simple problems sungchan had spent no more than five minutes coming up. they were as simple as they could get. sungchan scribbled them onto a wrinkled piece of notebook paper before you arrived and he isn't entirely sure why he bothered. it seemed like nothing ever stuck in that empty head of yours. and sungchan hates it.

he truly just doesn't get it.

why do you even bother? sungchan supposes you're pretty enough to never have to raise a finger if you so desired. but instead, here you are. simply wasting your time and his until sungchan just can't take it anymore and he snaps.

he has yelled at you plenty of times, belittled you, clutched your skin in hurtful manners until you looked up at him with watering eyes, and a stupid look that only made sungchan want to laugh in your face. every single time you look at him like he is the one in the wrong. like he has no reason to make your jaw ache between his fingers to get you to finally look at him and pay attention. but what else is sungchan to do? you don't bat an eye when he breathes out a gentle reminder, or even a stern demand.

sometimes sungchan tells himself that you like the way he treats you. there is no other reason for you to continue to show up in his study room every week, looking like you had spent too much time getting dolled up for a grueling tutoring session that would only end with your makeup smeared and your hair mussed.

perhaps you like the way he takes control of you. when he forces you to glue your eyes to your textbooks and listen to the venomous hisses in your ear as he reiterates the same useless material.

sungchan thinks you would learn more if he brushed his fingers along your filthy cunt, giving you some incentive to eagerly listen to him. that seems to be the reason why women like you do anything at all. women made to sit pretty at home live to have their supple skin caressed and tight cunts stretched and filled with seed. he supposes he wouldn't mind providing that for you until it finally clicked in your brain that the touch of long fingers and the full feeling in your pussy is all that will ever matter.

but sungchan just knows you would be a blubbering mess about it. he can already see you trickling eyes, and hear the whimpered pleas. but sungchan can also see the drool slipping from the corners of your lips, and hear the lewd squelch between your bodies that tells another story.

but as you squirm in his hold, accusatory gaze directed at his face, he knows he has no choice.

[steddiealltheway]

Steve tries his hand at writing poetry. Emphasis on try.

It’s not… great. He never was the best writer in high school - just ask Nancy. But really he tries.

Unfortunately, his hobby is discovered by Robin who relentlessly makes fun of him, stealing his little journal away and shouting out some of his lines. Thankfully, the Video Store is empty.

Until Eddie walks in.

Neither Robin or Steve notice him, too busy fighting over the journal with Robin still calls out a few stanzas every so often.

“What’s going on?” Eddie asks, loud enough to get the pair’s attention.

Steve and Robin both look towards him. Steve turns bright red, and Robin races up to Eddie, giddy with excitement yelling, “Steve writes shitty poetry!”

She waves the journal towards Eddie who takes it from her. Steve races up to the counter but noticed that Eddie is already closing it and handing it back to him.

“I have my fair share of shit poetry. I’m sure we all do,” Eddie says casually, trying to brush off Robin’s comment, seeing the slight hurt in Steve’s eyes at the insult.

Steve smiles at him tightly, thanking him with a nod.

Eddie changes the subject.

Over the next few days, Robin, unaware of the damage done, will not stop teasing Steve about the journal. And, of course, she blabs when Nancy comes to the Video Store, unable to stop herself from talking or thinking when she’s around her.

Nancy laughs and comments how she would love to see if he’s improved at all from high school. Joking that maybe Steve can be published in the Hawkins Post.

Steve storms off to the break room, shame and anger taking over his senses. It’s stupid really. They’re just teasing. But Steve was actually excited to fill out this new journal he bought. To have something for himself that wasn’t just sports and babysitting and being known as a dumb asshole in high school.

After a few minutes, the door to the break room opens, and Steve pinches his nose, not in the mood to deal with anymore teasing.

“Hey, you okay?” A voice that is definitely not Robin’s asks.

Steve turns to find Eddie hovering in the middle of the room unfamiliar to him. “When did you get here?” Steve asks.

“A few minutes ago. Robin and Nancy filled me in on… things,” Eddie replies fidgeting with his rings.

Steve nods and sits on the nearest chair, running a hand through his hair. He deeply sighs.

Eddie nods towards the small leather journal Steve left on the counter. “Is this it?” He asks.

“My notebook filled with shit poetry? Yes,” Steve replies, the venom in his tone heavier than he intended.

“May I?” Eddie asks, hand reaching towards it.

Steve nods.

Eddie grabs it and opens it. He flips through a few pages, pausing, squinting, and sometimes zoning out in deep thought. He keeps flipping through pages, reading what seems like every word Steve has written.

Steve can feel the blood rush to his cheeks, embarrassment flooding his veins. Especially when Eddie’s eyebrows furrow while he looks at one page for a few moments too long.

After a while of unbearable silence - except the sharp turning of pages - Eddie says, “It’s not terrible. In fact, it’s actually pretty good.”

Steve scoffs, “Yeah, right.”

Eddie rushes towards Steve and squats in front of him, opening the journal towards the page he was stuck on for so long. “Steve. This right here has so much potential.”

“That right there, is pure shit. You heard Robin and Nancy,”

Eddie runs a hand over his face and admits, “Yes, some of these might be shit poetry. But you know what all of these are?”

Steve ignores the familiar sting of disapproval and deadpans, “What?”

“These are all great song lyrics.”

Steve groans.

“I’m serious!” Eddie says, he starts digging through the drawers in the break room, finally coming across a pencil. “May I?” He asks again gesturing towards the journal.

Steve nods.

Eddie begins scribbling on various pages, crossing out lines, adding to them, writing in the margins, and at one point it even looks like he doodles something. He closes the journal and hands it back to Steve. “Take those as you will, but I really think you’re onto something, Steve. You can always show me anything you write, okay?” Eddie says, resting a hand on Steve’s knee.

Steve grabs Eddie’s hands and squeezes it. “Thank you,” he says sincerely.

Eddie beams at him and stands, pulling Steve up. “Okay, now you have to pick the next movie I get. Robin’s last choice was… not great…” Eddie continues his rant, opening the break room door.

Steve makes eye contact with Robin who gives him an apologetic look, and Steve glances back at Eddie - who is still ranting - knowing he mentioned something to her. Something blooms in his chest, knowing that Eddie understood how he felt before talking to him.

After Eddie leaves, Robin goes on a rambling apology, telling Steve she didn’t actually mean it. Except for a few parts. But then she tries to take that back and fails.

Steve laughs and tells Robin that really it’s okay.

That night, he turns through Eddie’s notes, taking in every word, applying corrections, and writing a few questions and replies to Eddie’s words.

He lands on the last poem he wrote and turns the page which was once blank. Now, there’s a simple heart with the words, “Never change, Steve Harrington,” under it.

Steve stares at the page for a few moments, heart racing. Then, he turns to the blank back section of the notebook and writes a few lines about a boy with curly hair and brown, doe eyes.

[bibi-brains]

𝐈 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐬

ao3 version

Summary: You were trying to focus on your studies and Mahito gets his own laptop to study like a cat.

Warnings: just fluff, no proof reading, and calculus ment :')

Mahito watched as you scribbled in your notebook, the formulas getting bigger and some little notes that turned them into little ones in less than 5 lines. If he said he was understanding, he would be lying. The curse was not strange about human ways to live since he got with you, still there are some lines and columns that don't seem to fit or have a reason after all his research and your explanations, why would you solve those stupid questions like it would change the world? Or would you use them for something? Isn't computers technological enough to do that for humans?

You were trying to focus on your calculus exercises and ignoring the presence by your side, but you still could feel his gaze on you while you risked your pencil on the paper.

"Mahi." The sweet nickname pulled him off of thoughts. "Could you read something else? You're distracting me a little, and I'm getting nervous being watched like this." You didn't have a problem being watched while studying, but only when you felt confident about the subject and could quickly solve a question.

"I already read all of your books and the ones you bought recently. I'm bored just like you." His gaze was still fixed on your paper, his face had dropped following the corner of his eyes, that made a cute expression for gim, he looked like a puppy when was given a treat that he didn't like. If the place was completely silent, you would be able to hear some engines working inside of his head.

"I'm just trying to focus on this list because I have an important exam to do tomorrow, and it would be really helpful if you gave me a little more space for my brain to explode." Your voice was calm but held a serious tone, making the curse blink his heterochromic eyes like he was pulled out from a spell to look at you.

"MY brain will soon stop working if you write one more line about whatever curse spell you're trying to do."

His little drama pulled out a laugh from you. It was cute how you two grew close to share these moments and how Mahito could make you feel more human.

"It's not so hard, but if you want to learn this, you will have to start from the very beginning."

Moving over to your side you picked your laptop, turned it on and typing the password, opened the browser and the study tab you used for quick review of subjects, clicking on a video, you put the screen in front of you with a video of basic math on pause before reaching towards your drawer to grab a pen, a notebook, and your old headphones giving to him so he could write any questions or copy stuff from the video. "If you want to understand here, you must start from here." You said, pointing to your notebook after redirecting to the screen plugging the headset and putting on his ears.

Mahito seemed confused, but it was easy to catch his curiosity like a baby seeing a colorful book and funny shapes, but understood the task and pressed play on the video.

You finally had some space and got to focus on your exercises. Finishing the first list, you made a pause to let your brain breathe and stretch your limbs. The curse was still by your side, but instead, he was writing everything the woman said in the video. Surprisingly, he was watching the next one. You stopped to look more at him like this. His face was serene, eyebrows moving up and sometimes furrows when he didn't understand the information. He looked so pretty focused like this that you want to consider having him studying for you and helping you out on the exam. No one will see him anyway.

Your imagination vanished when Mahito caught your look, giving the same eyes you did early to him.

"I'm sorry, I'm trying to focus here. Could you please watch something else." He threw your spell back at you, grinning as a war sign.

"Dickhead."

[dilxcc]

Heyyyyy!! I was wondering if you could do a little something with Chanyeol were he and reader are working on a song together and everything is being recorded and they become really close and when the video is posted the fans love their chemistry and they beg them to make more music together and in one of the videos they forget that they’re being recorded and they kiss or something 😅(it’s cool if you don’t want to take this request)

a bit too close ᡣ𐭩 park chanyeol

fluff, kinda slowburn, friends to lovers, love confession, mutual pining, a little bit of kissing🧍, reader is so in love with him, grammatical error

chanyeol x f!reader

a/n idk if this is good but i hope you like it 😭

"i think it would sound better if you..." his words fell on deaf ears as you admired him. it was clear to everyone how head over heels you are for him. the way his bangs fell over his forehead, the way his dimples showed at the slightest smile, the way he would cover his mouth slightly when he was complimented.

"y/n? did you hear what i was saying?" chanyeol waved his hand in front of you, causing you to snap out of your stupor. "sorry?" you blinked, eyes slightly widened. "as i was saying, i think it would sound better if you soften your voice a little at this part," he repeated, chuckling softly at your antics.

you leaned closer to him and looked at the printed lyrics that were full of his scribbled notes. "which part?" you inquired, your eyes scanning through your part. his finger pointed out to the closing part. you flinched slightly when you felt his touch on your face. "your hair was in the way," he admitted, acting as if tucking your hair behind your ears was the most natural thing to do.

your cheeks burned slightly and you stepped a few steps back. "right," you stuttered slightly, now fixing your hair nervously. "oh, should we take a break? it's almost lunchtime," chanyeol muttered, looking at his phone's lock screen. you could only nod in reply, not trusting your voice to answer him. "what do you want? i'll order it for us," he scrolled through a food app.

soon enough, the two of you finished your recordings and it was finally time to leave the studio.

.

eris4life: did you guys see the way she was looking at him??? 👀

channielove: no wayyy did you not see the WAY chanyeol was looking at her??? eris4life: omg i just noticed! are we smelling something hereeee

kyungkyungsoo: omg they should totally collab more! they sound so good together!!!

baeksblub: guys... i think we're getting an announcement soon

you scrolled through the video's comment section, face flushing slightly because of how obviously you were staring at chanyeol. they even gave the exact time stamp! but the thought of chanyeol doing the same made your heart flutter. was he staring at you too? you hadn't noticed.

chanyeol on the other hand was smiling to himself while remembering the time you two were recording the song. his grip on the pillow grew tighter every time he remembered your smile. "hyung, he's at it again," sehun whispered in junmyeon's ear. "who's at what again?" junmyeon tilted his head slightly. kyungsoo pointed his finger toward chanyeol who was smiling ear to ear like a high school girl in love.

chanyeol was not the type to back down from a challenge. he considers talking to you more – getting to know you a challenge as not many people would have the courage to talk to the one they are interested in.

his finger hovers over your username, contemplating whether he should follow you or not. maybe this was a bad idea – that this was a very stupid idea. but hell, he loves stupid.

.

real__pcy

hey 🫣

were your eyes deceiving you or did you accept a new message from chanyeol?

y/n

hey 🫢

real__pcy

do you want to get coffee sometime? no pressure you can say no

the two of you somehow just clicked. chanyeol made you laugh so much. you made him laugh so much.

not even a year after your collaboration, the two of you were already planning a new song together. except this time, both of you were jumpy.

an accidental touch to the hand caused both of you to flinch and jump in the opposite direction. the sudden close distance made both of you stutter your words and look in the other direction. and the simplest eye contact almost caused you to ruin the whole song while recording.

you remind yourself to be mindful of your actions as the two of you are being recorded. but it was so hard sometimes when his closeness lingered a few seconds long. he probably hates you right? you were being awkward and unprofessional while recording.

"you two should take a break," the director instructed, getting up from his chair and walking out of the studio. you let out a sigh and sat down on the chair inside the recording room. and he followed suit. he carefully sat down beside you, hoping you wouldn't be uncomfortable. "so..." he started, his voice sounding awkward.

"i think you did great, by the way," he complimented, smiling shyly at you. "i think you did great, too," you returned the compliment. after a while, the silence returned. though this time, it wasn't as uncomfortable as it was a few minutes ago.

.

a few days later, the two of you returned to the studio for the final recording. due to both of you being incompetent, the recording time was longer than expected. your interaction a few days ago made both of you less skittish. except for the occasional awkward laughter.

at one point, you hadn't even realized that the two of you had gotten so close while inspecting the lyrics. "this part–" his words died down in his throat when his arm brushed yours. "sorry," he muttered but made no effort to move away. your eyes didn't peel away from his and instead, the two of you were leaning into each other's face.

with chanyeol being tall, he had to bend down a little. you closed your eyes, half-expecting for him to kiss you. while the other half; well...

his lips met yours in a slow yet sensual kiss. it wasn't rushed. and for some reason, it just felt so right. the world around you vanished and you could only feel the two of you standing there; in the room right now.

when you finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours and slowly regained his breath. "is it too late to admit that i like you?" he smiled, his cute dimples showing. you shook your head and smiled. "i like you, too,"

.

the video went viral just a few hours after being published.

chanslover: chanyeol please just one chance 😭😭

jonginreal: YESSSS THEYRE TOGETHER

junmyeonsfakecotton: my ship is sailing. i can finally die in peace.

baekshands: OMG OMG OMG TELL ME IM NOT DREAMING

kyungsoochest: you are not.

[sprirave]

04:54.

✪ | Teen!Dean Winchester x Reader.

\❦\ Summary : You're Dean's bestfriend since birth and as you two grew up, you always stuck around each other, so when he started hunting you always went with him, the passenger seat reserved just for you. Spending so much time with him lend you to grow some feelings for him, but you're always uncertain about him reciprocating.Maybe the day that something will change finally came.

!!! Warnings : None, it's my first fanfic ever, there's just a kiss, it's kinda fluff, just indulging fantasy, it's a slight scribble, my first little written post here on Tumblr, and since I'm new, if you read this you could leave a comment or something, maybe even some advices<3, I'm thinking about writing a few more scenarios maybe even start a series about Teen!Dean. Thank you so much love. Have a good reading, indulge! Stay frosty!

S.K.✮⋆˙

━━━━━━━━━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━━━━━━━━━━

4:54.

Dean liked that time of the morning, sometimes, when the sun shined brighter than the usual, pouring into the motel room from the half closed curtains, falling over the bed and wrapping everything in a warm yellow hue.

He liked getting up early on those days, carefully laying your head, nuzzled into his chest, back on the pillow and slipping out of the creaky wooden bed, as silent as possible in order to not wake you up.

He'd get clean, shower, shave, exercise a bit and scribble down a few notes for the day, make a few calls to Sammy bored at home, whining about how he wants to come hunting with you and him on the next case.

Dean comes to a stop when he catches a glimpse of your asleep face, how you shine under the sun directly falling over you, peaceful and quiet.

You two met back when you were little, he was a boyish kid, sprayed with strong freckles in the summer and a big grin with missing teeth. He shoved you off the swing on a random afternoon at the kids park, and when you started crying he helped you up, gave you one of his random car toy and declared himself to be your bestfriend.

After that day he took really seriously his job, always bringing you silly stuff , then school came in, and you did everything together, homework, group projects, playing out, everything really, where Dean was, y/n was too.

You discovered his parents shady work soon enough, on a winter evening, when John came back home covered in blood.

You learnt the way, holding onto Dean hands, taking steps together, as much to John's disdain, you learnt the hunter way, and Dean always defended you whenever John came up with stupid shit against you.

He never left you behind, always bringing you to hunt with him, always having your back, and you in the meanwhile...fell.

"Y/n..."He called out your name and you stirred up with a slight groan, dragged out of your sleep, eyes slowly blinking open as you searched for Dean.

Who can you blame? Dean is so easy to love, and you have him around you all of the time.

"When did you left the bed?" you mumbled, eyebrows furrowing, sitting up and giving yourself a moment to get aware of your surroundings, but immediately leaning onto his hand as he combed his fingers through your messy hair, chuckling just slightly.

Maybe you're misunderstanding these affectionate gestures, maybe he's just being platonic, just your bestfriend since birth, maybe he doesn't like you back.

"Didn't wanted to wake up, it was too early."

Yet he always manages to makes you feel that familiar warmth in your guts when you stare at his face, and feel his touch, the bright sun making you recognize a few golden flicks of color in his apple green iris, and you can't stop your feelings.

You want to be the only one to have enough time and light to be able to notice those details, you want to he Dean's one and only.

Dean notices the silence and raises an eyebrow, frowning confused, he knows you well enough, and yet, you ask yourself why he doesn't catch on your feelings.

"M'fine." You crack him a smile, and after leaving the motel the drive is weirdly uncomfortable, air thick with misunderstood tension.

"What are you doing?" you raised your head from your hands, heart spiking up, yet frowning when he suddenly pulled over in a long abandoned way at the start of a forest, in the middle of nowhere.Dean killed the engine and gave you his best serious face, turning to you.

"What's going on with you? You're acting so out of yourself and I---don't understand what's wrong? Is it me? Did I do something wrong or what?---"

He expressed himself with hasty and frustrated hands gestures, stuttering even, it was unusual of him, it made you hold your breath as you listened to him babbling.

"I'm---"

"Don't bullshit me, m'not stupid, what now, you don't trust me anymore?"

The situation got you blocked worse than ever, it was now or never, because he's not going to believe to any excuse you make up, and if you confess it could either end good or ruin your friendship forever.

Dean's eyes drilled into yours and he gripped the steering wheel of the precious Impala he got from John a few weeks ago after turning legal, he pursed his lips, eyebrows furrowing together, and he almost seemed to start to get angry because you opened and closed your mouth like a fish, not uttering a word.

He dropped his shoulders disappointed after a few seconds of silence, staring at his shoes as he turned Baby back on, and before you realized it, you had one hand fisting his hair and the other one holding his nape.

Your lips met.

You couldn't stand how he pried his eyes off you, maybe you wanted that attention of his forever, for yourself only, maybe you wanted to be selfish.

Dean tensed up but didn't hesitated, hands flying from his keys straight to your waist, holding you almost possessively as he tilted his head, knocking your nose softly together as he deepened the kiss.

When you two pulled apart a few seconds passed just by watching each other in silence with wide eyes.

"I love you too I guess?..." Dean muttered and you couldn't help but giggle a bit, nodding.

"I love you Dean." You giggled more as he pulled you in another kiss.

Maybe today was a good day, maybe something's horrible it's waiting for you two later, but right now it doesn't matter.

Dean Winchester loves you back, with no maybe.

___thanks for reading!✮⋆˙

S.K.

[hisui-dreamer]

promises of the future

Pairing: Ace Trappola x gn!reader

Synopsis: studying with ace isn't the best idea, but you can't deny the fact that you like spending time with him

Tags: fluff, study buddies, slow burn, pining, banter, bot proofread

Word count: 1.2k+

Notes: this was written in exchange for @ashipiko's nui art trade hehe. i hope i did ashi and ace's characterisation justice, and you'll enjoy the fluff!

also HAPPY BIRTHDAY ASHII, SO GLAD WE'RE MOOTS (⁠ノ*☆ｰ☆*⁠)ノ💕✨💖

Masterlist

In the midst of an emptied school during spring break, the last break before your final exams, you found yourself ensnared in a solitary routine of ceaseless studying and revision. Everyone's departure for the holiday break had left the school desolate, amplifying the silence that hung heavy in the air.

Knowing Grim's lack of patience with any theoretical magic, you had to put in extra effort to pull his weight as half of a student.

Days blurred into nights as you diligently pored over textbooks and scribbled notes, determined to grasp every morsel of knowledge that would be tested. It didn't help that so many of the topics alluded you completely. How could you understand magical energy and this world's history when you'd barely lived there for a year?

Just when the solitude threatened to suffocate your spirit, your phone buzzed with a message from Ace. The screen illuminated with his name, and a flicker of warmth ignited within you at the familiarity of his request.

"Can we call? I can't focus."

The familiarity of this request brought a smile to your face, reminiscent of the times you had spent together, studying late into the night during your many sleepovers ever since the sea anemone situation.

"Sure, give me a sec and I'll be in the call,"

The anticipation of hearing his voice, the joyful banter that always accompanied your study sessions, ignited a sense of exhilaration within you. Though Ace could be distracting and prone to bouts of foolishness, there was an undeniable connection that drew you towards him. And you couldn't deny that studying with him was always more enjoyable than studying alone.

With a renewed spirit, you prepared for the call, arranging your study materials and finding a comfortable spot amidst the sea of textbooks and scattered papers. Your fingers danced across the keyboard of the laptop gifted to you by Ortho and Idia, and the call connected, the familiar voice of Ace filling the void with warmth and familiarity.

"Heh, took you long enough. Are you still not used to the new computer?" His words carried a light-hearted tone, filled with gentle mockery.

Rolling your eyes in response, you retorted, "No dummy, I was just tidying my desk." Your voice held a touch of playful annoyance, the familiar banter between you and Ace flowing effortlessly. "So? Whatcha working on right now?"

A tired groan escaped from Ace's end of the line. "History... I hate it, it's so boring and it feels like I haven't learnt anything," he complained.

You chuckled at his groan. "Course it feels like that, you keep falling asleep in Trein's classes!" The image of Ace, Deuce, and Grim succumbing to the temptation of slumber and nodding off danced in your mind.

In a feeble attempt to defend himself, Ace retorted, "Hey, it's not my fault his voice is a lullaby! And it's not just me either, Deucey and Grim also doze off!"

An exasperated sigh escaped your lips as you couldn't help but reply, "Comparing yourselves to them just reinforces you three dumbasses are on the same level."

"Wha- Hey! You know for a fact I'm not as stupid as Juice is!"

A faint smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, "You sure don't act like it sometimes." Swiftly cutting off any potential protest, you pressed on, "Anyways, let's start with History. I mean, considering you come from the Queendom of Roses, I assumed you'd know more about its history."

"Nah, every time I heard about the infamous Queen of Hearts and all that blah blah blah, it all seemed so boring to me."

You let out yet another sigh. "And knowing you, anything boring just isn't worth your time huh?"

"Bingo!" His laughter danced through the call.

"That's not something to be proud of, you idiot," you chided gently, a hint of exasperation lingering in your voice. "Well, true or false, the Queen of Hearts had rules where contradictions were the norm?"

"Huh? Uhhhh, false? I dunno," he replied, his uncertainty seeping through.

"Wha- no! She had to change rules occasionally to manage the madness of the kingdom," you explained. "Oh my god, why did I think studying with you would be a good idea?" you grumbled, frustration lacing your voice.

Ace, never one to lack confidence, responded with a playful tone, "Because I'm a genius, and you love me, duh."

Rolling your eyes at his audacity, you retorted, "Yeah, yeah, whatever you say. Sure..." and maybe there was more truth to that sentence than you liked to admit.

The two of you started quizzing each other on different facts, reviewing questions from your homework and comparing each other's answers. The room was filled with an atmosphere of focused determination, punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter from ridiculous answers.

A comfortable silence fell over you two as you waited for him to finish answering the current question. Your eyes wandered to the window, starting at the dark front yard of Ramshackle dorm. The darkness outside seemed to wash a wave of uncertainty over you, and you pondered aloud, "I wonder what will happen to me if I can't go home."

The subtle scratching sound of pen and paper ceased from the call. Confused, Ace inquired, "What do you mean, what'll happen?"

You sighed, the weight of uncertainty settling upon you. "Well, let's say Crowley can't find a way back, yeah? I can't stay in NRC forever, right? I'll need to get a job and find somewhere to stay."

A brief pause hung in the air before Ace's voice pierced through, offering an unexpected solution, "Well, if it comes to that, why not just stay with me?"

Your eyebrows shot up in disbelief, searching for words to respond to such a proposition. "Huh??" escaped your lips, a sound of surprise and confusion, while a delicate blush tinged your cheeks at the implications his words carried.

"You can just live with me! I wouldn't mind having someone to do the chores," Ace continued, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You couldn't help but scoff at the idea, a teasing remark escaping your lips, "Wow, what an incredibly generous offer. Though I'm not sure I can stand living with you."

Ace's voice carried a hint of mock offence as he playfully countered, "Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" You could almost imagine him pouting at his end.

Attempting to defuse his offence, you replied innocently, "Nothing, nothing. Just kidding," you giggled. After a brief pause, your voice softened, barely above a murmur, "Thank you, I appreciate it."

Ace, ever the caring friend, responded with a hint of reassurance, "Heh, don't worry about it. I got your back, okay?"

A tender smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you replied sincerely, your voice infused with gratitude, "Thanks, Ace."

Realizing that the conversation had veered off course from its intended purpose, you swiftly refocused, "Okay, we've gotten too distracted. We need to get back to studying!"

Ace let out a playful scoff, "Pshh, party pooper. Alright, alright."

Despite your words, the prospect of a future with him continued to linger in your mind—a life of living together, splitting chores, and supporting each other. It seemed like an enticing idea, a sleepover that would never end, a path you could envision yourself contentedly walking.

Needless to say, even long after the conversation had shifted back to academics, your smile lingered at your future prospects, a budding affection for the ginger that never failed to make you feel appreciated.

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

[or0ch1maru]

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗔𝗸𝗮𝘁𝘀𝘂𝗸𝗶 𝗦𝘄𝗲𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗣𝘁 𝟭.

ꜰᴇᴀᴛᴜʀɪɴɢ Kᴀᴋᴜᴢᴜ, ⵊᴛᴀᴄʜɪ, Tᴏʙɪ, ᴀɴᴅ Zᴇᴛsᴜ

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶．

𝙆𝙖𝙠𝙪𝙯𝙪:

“Just a little more. I can almost reach it.” You grunt out as you try reaching for a spice on the top shelf. Standing on your tip toes, and just about to climb onto the counter to get the ingredient that you need for your food when a large arm reaches over your head and into the cabinet. “Here you go short stop.” Speaks Kakuzu as he drops the small glass bottle into your hands. “Thanks.” You reply back as you carefully add enough seasoning to your meal, not wanting to over do it with spices.

“Lucky that you have somebody tall enough to get your shit huh?” Comments Kakuzu from behind you. He’s the only one who still makes jokes and comments about your short stature. You never really minded it before, only because you find it humorous that he never lets up about it. Kakuzu never puts much thought into anything, he tends to go with the flow, nor does he ever really give a shit. He does what satisfies him. So whenever he makes a stupid joke about your size, you can’t help but laugh.

“What would I ever do without you Kakuzu?” You say jokingly. Pulling your hands to your chest in a dramatic gesture. “Never getting shit from the top shelf, that’s for sure.” He remarks, rolling his green eyes. Kakuzu watches from the opposite wall as you continue cooking your lunch, admiring your work. He observes the way you concentrate, how you push stray bits of hair behind your ear when they get in your face. This is when he realizes he enjoys your time and company a little more than his money, and it’s rare that anything pulls him away from that.

“Here.” You say, holding out a bowl of the ramen you just finished making. This caught Kakuzu off guard since many tend to shy away from his size, and sometimes arrogant attitude. But here you are, offering a homemade meal to him. He raises an eyebrow before taking the hot bowl from your grip. Now sitting at the small kitchen table, he finds himself scarfing down the noodles. He never realized what a great cook you are, even with something as simple as ramen. “This is pretty good short stop. I should start hanging around the kitchen more when you’re in here. Get some free food from ya.” He comments. You glance up at him from the seat across from him, trying to read his face to find out if he’s serious or just toying with you. His green eyes staring at you, curious as to what you’re thinking about. “I’ll cook for you as long as you want me too..” you comment shyly. “Sounds like a deal to me.” He remarks. Glancing at you once more.

𝙄𝙩𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙞:

In the living area, comfortably positioned on one of the couches, you’re curled up reading a book. This has been your nightly routine since you joined the Akatsuki. At the beginning, you’d read for an hour before disappearing to your chamber. But now, you read until you get sleepy, even if that means staying there until 2am. Nothing about this routine has changed since. Everybody knows not to disturb you unless it’s of vital importance. It’s not because you’d shout at them to leave you alone, but it’s because they know it’s something that brings you peace of mind. Nobody joins you often either, maybe on the rare occasion that Konan, or Pain get bored enough to open a book, that you get company.

Over the past few weeks, you couldn’t help but take notice that Itachi, who of a quiet and standoffish disposition, has been slowly making his way into your little area. It first started with a few glances whenever he passed by, or was working on something in the kitchen, since it’s right across from the living area. Then it moved to him sitting at the large oval table doing paperwork. You timed it too. He’d come out exactly thirty minutes after you, and sat in the same seat each time. Scribbling away on some scroll. But now, he’ll grab a book off of the shelves, and sit in the arm chair near you. Itachi would come out no more than five minutes after you, and stay until you got up and went to bed. At first, you assumed he just wanted company, without voicing his need, in fear of ridicule or teasing from other members, but that didn’t sound right. You then thought it was because he simply wanted to read and get out of his room for a while, it can get quite boring, hanging out in a room, looking at the same four walls until it was time for another task. It wasn’t until tonight, that you realized his true intention behind all of this.

You decided on calling it a night around one thirty, feeling drained after a day of running errands with Sasori. You shut the book you were reading and slid it back into the slot on the shelf. Stretching quickly before retiring to your room. “Goodnight..Itachi.” You spoke quietly, voice full of exhaustion. You started to retreat when he stood up, sliding his novel back onto the shelf before joining you at your side. The two of you walked in silence to your bedroom door. It wasn’t until you turned the knob that Itachi started speaking. “On my last mission, I happened to notice a new library opening up in the town nearest to us. I thought you’d like to join me, since you love reading so much.” Commented Itachi. “I’d love too.” You said after turning around, finding it rude to speak with your back towards the Uchiha. “I’ll come grab you tomorrow. Around 3.” He says, looking down at you.

One thing you always loved doing, but tried not to make it noticeable, is look into his eyes. You never flinched away, even if you accidentally ended up trapped in his genjutsu. This never went unnoticed by the famed Uchiha. It made him feel good knowing that someone wasn’t terrified of him, that somebody appreciated every bit of him, the good and the bad. He always tried his hardest not to allow his Sharingan to get in the way of staring into your beautiful eyes. His fear originally made him look away from you, thinking that you were judging him silently in your mind. But over time, he realized his fears were just a waste of energy. Allowing you to stare as long and as often as you wanted.

𝙏𝙤𝙗𝙞/𝙊𝙗𝙞𝙩𝙤:

Tobi always made a point to piss Deidara off in front of you. Ever since the first time you witnessed their banter. All it took for him to end up head over heels for you was your laugh. It took you a while, getting used to being in an organization as such, to show your true personality, the real you. So when Tobi heard your laugh for the first time, he decided right then and there, to do whatever it took, to hear it again. Even if that meant getting on Deidara’s last nerve. Which to Deidara’s dismay, was everyday. Tobi would find some new ridiculous reason to push his buttons.

Today wasn’t any different. Everybody in the Akatsuki was outside training, or just enjoying the weather. Tobi caught sight of you, cloud watching with Konan. You were resting against a thick trunk of a giant tree nearby. The wind blowing bits of your hair back, the ones that weren’t secured under your headband that is. He heard your soft voice, discussing what shapes you perceived the clouds to be in at that moment, before the breeze morphed them into blobs. “Tobi! Focus!” Shouted Deidara, trying to get the attention of his teammate to continue their training. “Sorry Deidara-Senpai.” Replied Tobi, focusing on what’s in front of him, and getting his head back into the game.

Time went by with the sounds of explosions, grunts, groans, curses, and obscenities. Training with Deidara went by smoothly until Tobi tore off one of his arms. “You always do this! This time, you’ll be the one to stitch it back on!” Shouts Deidara, irritated that yet again, a limb was ripped from him. “I didn’t do it on purpose Deidara-Senpai.” Replies Tobi, trying to explain that it was simply an accident. “Yea, yea. Whatever you say you little shit.” Continues Deidara, cursing under his breath as he goes to retrieve his severed limb. “It could of been worse. At least you didn’t end up in pieces this time.” Says Tobi, shrugging his shoulders as if this was an everyday, normal conversation. “Why I oughta!” Exclaims the blonde, swinging his separate arm in his good hand, landing a hard smack to the back of Tobi’s head. “Ouch Deidara-Senpai. That really hurt.” Replies Tobi as he bends down to pick up his mask. Which flew off to the floor after being hit by Deidara’s strength.

As he straightens himself back up, he couldn’t help but notice you giggling. A faint pink blush to your cheeks as you watched this display of annoyance between partners. Seeing your wide smile and flushed face brought a smile to his features. He took it one step further by giving you a small wave, his heart ready to burst when you returned the gesture. “Let’s go lover boy. You’ve got an arm to fix!” Snaps Deidara, becoming impatient with Tobi’s lack of care. “Yes Deidara-Senpai.” Says Tobi, glancing at your smiling face once more before retreating inside to fix his partners arm.

𝙕𝙚𝙩𝙨𝙪:

Everyday, at the same time, you’d go outside to the gardens. Watering, pruning, and trimming, is what you’d be found doing, as you loved to garden. This is what caught Zetsu’s attention one afternoon. He never really paid much mind to things outside of his tasks and missions, but on this particular day, you were the object of his attention. He watched from a nearby branch as you filled the watering can, walking from plant to plant, giving them the water that they craved. On days that it rained, he would find you in the Akatsuki’s library, reading and expanding your knowledge on plants and plant care. In your latest read, you learnt that plants like being spoken too. And you decided that today, good as any other day, was the day you’d try it out. Instead of speaking, since you didn’t know exactly who say to a plant, you decided to sing.

“They really enjoy that, whatever tune you’re singing to them.” Spoke a voice from the ground beside you. “Zetsu.” You spoke calmly, as if he didn’t just scare the life out of you. You turned your head to the right, looking down to greet the man who’s poking out from the dirt. “How long have you been out here?” You question him, your voice even and tender. “Not long. I was simply passing through.” Speaks the yellow eyed man. Now standing next to you, body emerging from the earth. “That translates into ‘Ive been watching you for a while.’”You reply jokingly. You picked up on his presence two hours ago, when he first emerged, lingering in a branch in the tree that sits right above you.

“Please don’t take my comment as a complaint. I like the company.” You say after a moment, feeling that you offended the Akatsuki spy. “I know.” Is all Zetsu says. You couldn’t help but take a glance at him from the corner of your eye. He doesn’t say anything more, and nor do you, as you continue to water the plants. Singing as you go along. Zetsu lingers a few feet behind, not wanting to get in your way as you walk back and forth from the hose to the flowers. “You don’t have to stand so far away, if you do not wish.” You say after a while, secretly hoping he’ll join you by your side. He doesn’t say anything as he suddenly appears next to you. “Your voice is lovely.” Zetsu remarks, you look up to find him in a relaxed state with his eyes closed.

With his encouragement, you sing a little louder, continuing on with the same tune you started with. Wanting to make the plants and Zetsu feel content. By the time the evening rolls around, you’ve finished watering and doing all your other necessities for the plants. Instead of going inside as you always do, you sat down under the same tree Zetsu hung out in earlier. He copied your actions and sat down beside you, resting himself on the base of the trunk. You felt his body relax as you continued singing, realizing how much he truly enjoyed this. “Can we do this tomorrow?” He interrupted suddenly. His eyes remained closed, maybe because of his comfort, or because he was slightly nervous for your answer, not wanting to see the face of rejection. “We can do this forever, if you don’t get tired of my voice before then.” You said, trying to sound easy going. “I’d like that.” Replies Zetsu. And with that, you picked up where you left off with your song.

[spibbb]

“Dad?”

Carl Brock didn't so much as glance back at the voice behind him.

“I got my report card today.” Eddie idly rocked on his heels, hands clasped over the aforementioned document.

More silence, except for the quiet scribbling of a pen on paper.

“I got all As again,” he tried again.

“That's nice, Edward,” his father said flatly. “Why don't you go out and play?”

Eddie felt his stomach drop, inevitably, once more. Inevitable, it seemed, this sight, this situation, over and over: he tried, and none of it mattered. He did his very best, but none of it mattered. It was never enough.

It stung.

He swallowed it down, leaving without another word. It would probably just make his father angry. And when Dad was angry, he did worse than ignore Eddie. He took things away sometimes–took his toys, his skateboard, even one of his favorite hats–for weeks. He told Eddie to go to his room and stay there for an hour, and if he left before his time was up, he'd scrub the bathroom floor instead of Ms. Dempsey.

Once he'd watched Eddie fumble with a cup of water and accidentally smash the glass on the floor, and he'd gripped Eddie's wrist hard enough to hurt, jerked him around to face him, and growled “What is wrong with you? Huh?” Eddie had been too frozen with shock to even think. Sometimes, on other occasions, when Father had gotten in his face, he'd push through the terror and pipe up, pitifully, “I'm sorry.”

“Sorry's not good enough,” was a common, muttered refrain. If he was feeling particularly angry, there would be only silence, and those cold, stony eyes boring into Eddie.

Father never hit him. He grabbed him sometimes, squeezed a little too hard like that, but he never hit. He didn't have to, though. The words both said and unsaid were enough.

Eddie felt his throat closing up as he willed his legs to carry him down the stairs, rushing past Ms. Dempsey to run outside. A hot flush came over his face and he felt so, so stupid.

Why did he think it would be different this time? Why…

He gritted his teeth.

Blinking back tears, he found the soccer ball in the side yard and dug his nails into its sides.

He would show him. He would. He had to. Father had to see. Eddie would make him see.

He was good enough. He was.

[munsonsgirl71]

Hey love, hope you're doing alright! Could you maybe write Eddie comforting anxious reader? Sometimes my anxiety makes me over analyze interactions and I'll complete spiral thinking that person is mad/hates me and I'llsob, so maybe like reader and Eddie having been dating for long and she over analyzes some little thing and he eventually finds out she thinks he's mad at her or something??

Hope this is okay, thank you! 💕

A/N: So this is short but it's fluffy and sweet, obvs... it's me! Thank you so much for sending this in! This request was perfectly crafted with just enough detail but not too much. I loved writing this!

Anxious - Eddie Munson x F! Reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, mentions of smut, Eddie being stupid, fluff, fluff and more fluff. Maybe a tiny big of angst if you close one eye and squint the other.

“Baby, stop.” Eddie smiled softly as he reached over and placed his hand on yours, gently tugging it away from where it had been kneading into his thigh. “I need to finish this, okay? And then I'll be all yours.” 

“Okay.” You shrugged as you leaned back into the arm of the sofa and turned your attention back to the slasher flick you hadn't really cared to watch in the first place. “I love you.” 

“Mmhmm.” He nodded as he continued to scribble into his campaign notebook perched on his knee. “Love you.” 

He doesn’t. He hates you. 

That tiny little voice in the back of your mind spoke up again and your heart dropped into your toes. You’d been doing so well. Taking him at his word and not letting the anxiety get the better of you but today had just been a day. You had felt the inklings of that stomach churning feeling the second you woke up without Eddie’s arms wrapped around you. 

He was on the other side of the bed, back to you with his arms shoved up underneath his pillow. There was no kiss when he woke up, he told you no when you asked if wanted to join you for a shower, he was quiet the whole way to drop you off at work. You kept telling yourself that maybe he was just having an off day, he had those occasionally, because everything had been great the night before. He had made you cum four times and you two had spent hours wrapped around each other; touching, kissing, licking every inch of skin you could get your hands on. 

But then he had been fifteen minutes late picking you up from work which was not normal, he barely even kissed you when you climbed into his van, and he headed straight for the shower as soon as he walked through the door. You sat on the edge of his bed and stared down at your shoes as you waited for him to come back. He rushed in throwing on clothes before grabbing his D&D stuff from the bed and heading to the living room throwing an ‘order us a pizza, yeah?’ over his shoulder as he went. 

He’s mad at you. Look at what you did. 

What had you done? Did you say something to piss him off and you don’t remember? Did you leave a mug in the sink or your makeup all over the bathroom? You slid off the couch and padded softly through the living room and down the short hall to the bathroom. Nothing was out of place. All of your make up was neatly packed away in your bag, your toothbrush was exactly where it belonged, no toothpaste in the sink. It was spotless. 

“Hey, pretty.” He smiled as he stepped into the doorway and leaned against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. “Whatcha doin’ in here?” 

“Just makin’ sure it’s clean.” You shrugged as you ran the tip of your index finger along the rim of the sink. 

“You don't have to keep picking up after Wayne. He’s a grown man, he can clean up his own messes.” He sighed, a playful little sound but it was the straw that broke the camel's back. Your heart twisted and tears sprung to your eyes as you turned away from him and wrapped your arms tight around your middle. “Baby?” 

“Go away, Eddie.” You sniffled as you shuffled over and flopped down onto the closed lid of the toilet. He was on you before you could blink, grabbing your face in his hands and looking over every inch of you with his sweet brown eyes. “Stop it.” 

“Sweetheart, what the hell just happened?” 

“Why are you mad at me?” He had your cheeks squished just slightly in his hands so your words were just a little garbled but his eyes went wide as they hit his ears. “What did I do?” 

“You didn't do anything!” He stressed as his arms slipped around your neck and pulled you into his bare chest. “I'm not mad at you. I could never be mad at you. Why would you think that?” 

“Lots of little things.” You sniffled again as you allowed yourself to melt into his warmth just a little bit. “You’ve been… weird all day.” 

“Weird?” He asked as he pulled back just enough to look down at you. “What do you mean?” 

“You weren’t holding me when I woke up and then you didn't kiss me.” You pushed him away as you looked down at your lap, his hands falling to your knees. “And then you made me shower alone. You were late picking me up and you’ve been ignoring me since I got in the car.” 

“Oh baby, I’m so sorry!” He was practically yelling as he lunged forward and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you close into his chest. “I’m not mad at you, I promise. I woke up last night sweating my ass off and felt this like scratchy feeling in my throat. I think I’m getting that cold Henderson had last week and I didn’t want to get you sick.” 

“What?” You blinked back to the tears resting on your lashes as your eyes went wide. “You’re sick?” 

“Not yet, not really, but I know it’s coming.” He nodded slowly as he smoothed your hair down and peppered kisses to the top of your head. “I am so sorry that you thought I was mad at you. I was just trying to put a little space between us so you didn't get sick too.” 

“Okay well next time can you give a girl a heads up?” You mumbled against his chest before you pushed back and gave him a wide eyed, pleading look. 

“I honestly thought I did and I am so sorry that I didn’t.” He nodded slowly. “You let those intrusive thoughts get to you, huh? Anxiety flared up?” 

”Yeah.” You giggled as you looked down to where his hands were now running up and down your thighs. “I’m sor…” 

“Don’t even try to say you’re sorry to me. I won't have it.” 

“Can I have some cuddles now?” You gave him your best puppy dog eyes with your bottom lip poked out into a pout for good measure. “I’ll be the big spoon so you can blow your germy breath the other way…” 

“Can’t.” He grimaced and your eyes went wide. “Gotta finish my campaign.” 

“EDDIE!” 

“I’m kidding!” He cackled as he wrapped his arms around your waist and hauled you up, making you squeal as you wrapped your legs around his hips. “I love you, silly girl, you know that?”  

“Yeah, I know.” You breathed a sigh of relief as you both pressed soft kisses into each other’s necks at the same time. “I love you, too, asshole.”

[artaxlivs]

The Creel house is creepy as fuck and Eddie is not a fucking fan. They leave their shoes on the porch, creeping slowly, quietly on socked feet to the front window so they’ll be able to see Erica’s light signal from the park. Steve’s got his walkman on, Gloria Gaynor singing in his ears. From the front pocket of Eddie’s new utility vest, he pulls the two small notebooks and pencils they grabbed for communication.

He writes “Hi” and flips it around to Steve who smiles and rolls his eyes fondly before writing “Hi” back. 

Then Steve scribbles on the next page, “You’re different than I thought.”

Eddie shrugs and writes, “You too.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” Eddie writes, hands trembling a little.

Steve pretends to be thinking hard and then smiles and nods.

Swallowing around the fear in his throat, Eddie puts his pencil to paper. He can’t believe he’s going to do this but he’s facing down a murderer in the murderer’s own house and he walked through a Hell dimension. And there’s just something about Steve. A peaceful acceptance. Eddie thinks it might be okay. To tell him. 

If Steve can be brave enough to put himself in danger again and again, Eddie can be brave enough to do this. 

“I’m gay.” He writes, letting out a long breath and staring at it for a few seconds before holding it up and showing Steve. Eddie probably looks as terrified as he feels. God, he hopes he’s not fucking this up.

Steve blinks several times, expression dazed and Eddie’s stomach clenches. Then Steve bends over his notepad, scribbling and brings it up to show Eddie, “Thank you for trusting me with that.”

Eddie lets out the breath he’d been holding very slowly, his relief must be obvious because Steve smiles encouragingly and then flips the page quietly, writing on the next. Then he flips it and writes on the next as well. When he holds it up, he flips the first page back, “I like girls.”

Nodding, Eddie doesn’t let his disappointment show. Of course Steve is straight. He’s the Hawkins High heartthrob. He was in love with Nancy Wheeler and whatever he has going on with Robin is obviously strong enough to pull him back from literal Hell.

Still holding up the notepad, Steve flips the second page, it reads, “...and sometimes boys.”

He looks nervous but also kind of…hopeful, maybe? Eddie has to cover his mouth to keep silent but then he writes, “Cool” and shows Steve who rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

Eddie’s just gathering the courage - or stupidity depending on how it was gonna go - to ask Steve on a date when Erica’s light flashes from across the street. He fumbles the flashlight for a moment and then flashes back.

It’s time.

Read Part One on Ao3  Read the Rest of Part Two