#'boys enough it's too late for this nonsense' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chelseeebe · 2 months

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jinx

18+ mdni. no smut but eddie is a grade a asshole to poor reader. mentions of weed and alcohol throughout. eddie munson x fem reader.

a/n: first off, anon i am sooo sooooo sorry it has taken me this long to fulfill your request!! i absolutely loved this request and am absolutely honoured that you came to me for it<33 i hope i've done it justice and that you still care to read this:') side note, i've updated my masterlist as i have slacked a bit but everything should be on there now ^.^

love me some chelseeebe angst—imagine fuckboy!eddie plays at the hideout right like regularly. reader starts frequenting his show days bc she likes him obviously but he starts noticing something. every time she comes in, something goes wrong. either he messes up a chord or cant see to flirt properly therefore no one ends up warming his bed as of late or something of the sort

his immediate first thought is ‘she’s a jinx!!!’ bc what other explanation could there be in his boy brain??? so he asks her to stop coming in. she does and yet he continues to mess up bc all he can think abt is her.

itd be so sexy if u added a moment of realization/angry love confession where in the middle of him being like you’ve bewitched me or something!!! he realizes hes the one obsessed with her.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

the party hums on in the background, a small group gathered outside to rob eddie blind, smoking away his entire supply.

robin giggles nonsensically into steve’s shoulder, too high for her own good.

“if you’re gonna smoke all my shit, the least you can do is come watch us tomorrow,” eddie had been nagging his friends to come down the hideout for months. they’d gathered a solid crowd now, not much but it was a start.

robin groans, nancy and jonathan shift in their seats, steve can barely muster enough energy to reply and argyle snores. hardly enthusiastic about his dreams.

“i’ll come,” you offer, bright-eyed as you smile politely at him from the floor.

a friend of a friend, someone robin met in class and had dutifully introduced to the group. he didn’t know you well, nor had he ever really cared to.

“i don’t think you’d like it, sweetheart” eddie retorts, flattered that you’d try and spare his feelings but he didn’t need your pity.

“why? you can’t be that bad,” chuckling quietly to yourself.

his eyes narrow, scoffing, “we’re not,” misunderstanding, or maybe just not caring to humour you back, “come if you want,” he shrugs nonchalantly, not as if any of his friends had offered to attend.

“okay,” nodding along, “i will.”

“alright,” turning his attention back to the embering joint glued to argyles fingers.

who cares if you come? eddie certainly doesn’t.

sure enough, the same couple dozen old drunks fill the bar, their glossy, zombie-like eyes stare back at him from the floor. he’d complain but beggars can’t be choosers and all that.

they’re partway through the second song when something reflects in his eye, a low-cut sequinned top that would definitely look better on the floor of his van.

it’s only when his eyes travel up that he realises it’s you who’s wearing that shirt, already looking straight back at him. a newfound look about you, thick lines of black line your eyes, worlds apart from the mousy girl who’d invited herself last night.

“and we’re-,” he sings, an abrupt case of dry mouth as the next line struggles to come out, “we’re.. uh,” the entire song erased from his memory within seconds.

he steps back from the mic, blinking rapidly in an attempt to trigger his voice though all he can see is you and that ridiculous top.

gareth’s head whips round, still strumming along before picking up eddie’s slack, continuing the lyrics on his own, not without a damning glare in eddie’s direction.

holy fuck.

he’s just, taken aback, that’s all. shocked that you’d even bother to come, less so put the effort in to actually look the part too.

his eyes don’t leave the back wall for the rest of the gig, practically stumbling through all of the songs as his head threatens to wander. trailing back to you only as they finish, walking off stage to down the harshest whisky the bar would allow.

you saunter over a couple minutes later, while eddie tries his hardest not to stare right down your shirt. he’s not certain that he won’t choke on his words if you speak to him.

“you were really good tonight,” you assure, smiling softly as his band mate turns to gawp.

“uh, yeah.. thanks,” eddie fumbles, gripping the neck of his beer bottle, “thanks for coming.”

there’s an aura surrounding you, like a wretched spell you’d evoked in him, turning him to a bumbling fool.

“i’m gonna head out..” gesturing to the door, “see you around,” waving your fingers coyly at him before disappearing.

his eyes linger at the door, wondering if maybe you’ll turn around and come back. not that he wants that. just curious as to why you’d come out just to see him play.

“now who the hell was that?” jeff ogles, receiving a swift elbow to the ribs from eddie and a loud oof as he clutches his side.

“a friend of a friend,” brushing him off, “don’t be weird about it,” jumping the gun to squash any sorts of ideas festering in his mind.

“you’re the only one being weird about it,” jeff retorts, grabbing his beer and shuffling off.

“i’m not being weird,” eddie calls from behind, “i’m not!”

okay maybe he was being a little weird.

who cares?

definitely not eddie.

this week, he feels more prepared to see you nodding along in the crowd, robin had joined you albeit looking less than impressed.

eddie’s killing it, at least he thinks. avoiding looking anywhere in your direction, keeping his gaze on the stumbling drunk at the back instead.

but the thoughts of you can’t help but creep into his mind, were you enjoying it? do you think he’s bad? why does he even care so much?

his hand slides down the neck of the guitar, playing the wrong chord entirely, his fingers curating a mind of their own.

fuck fuck fuck.

why does this keep happening?

gareth glares at him again, he had never been so frustrated with his idiot bandmate in his life. sure eddie liked to dick around in rehearsal but never on stage.

if eddie ever wanted a career in music, he needed to get a monumental grip on himself. weird girls he barely knew should not have the capacity to ruin his career.

after they clamber off stage, eddie makes a point of not going over to the two of you. no, you can come to him.

though he wishes you’d just be a little faster at it if he’s honest. too busy squished into a booth with one of the younger regulars to care about him.

heat rises in his chest, searing his cheeks a bright rouge, “-who is that?” gareth interrupts, bumping into his arm.

“who’s who?” eddie coughs, clearing his throat as his eyes snap back.

“that girl you’ve been staring at,” peering across the room to get a glimpse.

“i’m not staring at anyone,” abruptly turning his head in the opposite direction, proving to himself that he wasn’t staring, not really.

“you’re a liar,” gareth calls him on his bullshit immediately, “go talk to her! she’s hot,” scooting his friend along.

“no she’s not,” you looked good tonight, he’d give you that, “can everyone please just stop being weird about this? first jeff- now you? honestly, i don’t get it,” working himself into a frenzy over what really was nothing.

gareth’s eyes widen, scoffing at his melodramatic performance, “alright man.. calm down,” shaking his head in mild disgust.

eddie was totally calm, you know, apart from his heart pounding in his chest.

nothing major.

filthy, downright pornographic sounds fill his cramped van, certain that it was rocking side to side with the utter obscenity happening in the back.

chloe sits atop of his lap, tongues dancing around one another as she glides her hips back and forth. she was a regular, slightly older than eddie, at least he thinks, they’d made eyes a few times but only tonight had he gathered the courage to go and speak to her.

any other time, eddie would be rock solid, pinning her down and fucking her into the dusty floor. today, it’s just not happening.

his mind elsewhere, too preoccupied with nonsense to appreciate the opportunity at hand.

he's thinking about you and the fact you’d left the bar without ever coming over to him tonight. what the fuck was that about?

had he done something wrong?

he breaks apart from her mouth, heaving into the tiny gap between them, “i don’t know what’s going on..” he chuckles awkwardly, looking down at his useless dick, “normally something happens by now..”

she frowns, deep-set, showing her age more than before, “oh.”

he reaches down, furiously palming his cock through his jeans.

nothing. not even a twitch.

he wants to curl up and die. never in his three years of actually getting laid has this ever happened. eddie got hard at the drop of a pin, he’d only have to think about boobs and his jeans would shift.

so why the fuck wasn’t it working tonight?

“i’m gonna go,” chloe scowls, clambering over his legs, gathering her bag while not even attempting to hide her disappointment.

eddie shoots up, pathetically crawling after her, desperate not to let her go.

“it’s not me!” he screams out, watching helplessly as she crawls out of the van, “it’s you!”

no.

“wait no! shit, that’s not what i meant,” peeking out of the van to find the empty parking lot, zero women to be found, “fuck sake.”

left to wallow in his self-pity, alone, in the back of his dirty van.

just as he deserved.

if this was some karmic intervention, telling him to be a better person, he certainly wasn’t paying it any attention.

another party meant another night of eddie trying to understand why the hell you had such an effect on him.

it’s not even like you’re doing anything particularly riveting, sat with your drink in hand, nodding along to robin’s story.

he can’t stand it.

you have to go.

maybe not like that, but he had to put some distance between you. there’s no way he could keep his sanity while you were still a constant in his life.

eddie sidles over, feeling like the smartest guy in the room. he could do this, separate himself from you and your clutches and go back to playing as he once did.

you smile upon him appearing, sickly and sweet. it makes his heart thump in the weirdest way.

“oh.. hey,” playing this entirely nonchalantly, “i just thought i’d let you know that we’re not playing next week,” lying through his teeth, guilt ridden but really, it was necessary if he wanted to play a gig without fucking up the entire time.

“oh,” sounding somewhat disappointed, “okay.. how come?”

shit.

he can’t think of a single valid reason as to why they wouldn’t be playing.

“jeff’s sick.. real bad,” feeling even more guilty for lying about his friends health, wondering if he’s cursing jeff as you did him, “might even be a couple weeks off at this point.”

eddie was a terrible person.

but so were you.

bewitching him under some spell, forcing him to play terribly and embarrass himself in front of women

you’ve jinxed him. a bad omen cursing him to play like a fucking amateur. that’s the only logical explanation his pea brain can conjure up anyway.

that meant you had to stay away from the shows, from him preferably.

he couldn’t understand why you have this effect on him, why your mere presence has him becoming a floundering fool. you don’t intimidate him, not even close.

it’s almost as if he cares too much about what you think, to the extent that he overthinks it so hard that he fucks up.

a curse that could only be broken with some distance between you. that way he could focus on the show instead of you and your doe eyes reflecting off of the stage lights.

that’s what he’s praying for anyway.

eddie despises wednesday’s. itching to get his classes over and done with so he can get his small taste of stardom on that tiny hideout stage.

at some point over the last few weeks of you being an omnipotent presence in his life, he’d grown accustomed to crossing paths with you before the gig.

crossing campus with your chin tucked down, arms wrapped tight around your books. typically only sharing a smile or a short nod.

but this week you saunter over, resembling a frightened deer even more than usual.

he pulls his headphone from his ear, anticipating whatever nonsensical, vaguely cute thing you were going to say.

“hey,” he nods, a coy smile.

even now you have his palms sweating, overthinking whether he should’ve said hi or hello instead.

“you didn’t have to lie to me,” you start, brows furrowed, “it’s fine if you don’t want me to go to your gigs anymore, i don’t care,” a disappointed frown plaguing your normally cheerful face. “i thought i liked you eddie, really- but i don’t know anymore.. you’re not a good person.”

you turn to walk off before he can even compute your words.

oh shit.

“wait!” he calls but it’s useless, “i didn’t- i wasn’t- fuck.”

it was unthinkably cruel, he didn’t think you’d ever find out. and maybe that was his problem, assuming you didn’t care enough to find out.

guilt addles his chest, weighing heavy on his heart. for good reason too.

eddie was an asshole. a true, grade-a asshole that wayne would positively despise him for.

wait wait wait.

you liked him?

absolutely not. no way. that wasn’t what this was about.

or it’s not supposed to be.

no, this was some adolescent feud, a confusing, one-sided, friendship that he couldn’t get a grip on.

you didn’t like him. girls like you weren’t supposed to.

it’s not at all surprising that he plays like absolute shit tonight too.

guilt ridden for forcing your hand, for making you look at him like that. as if he were the worst person to walk the earth.

shit, maybe he was.

kind hearted people didn’t lie and deceive. no, kind hearted people came to gigs they obviously didn’t give a shit about. kind hearted people feigned interest in boring spiel about weed strains and whatever the fuck else eddie jabbered on about at parties.

you, you were kind. kinder than he deserved.

gareth slaps him harshly on the back the second they’re back behind the curtain, a scornful yet pitying scowl on his face, “look man,” he begins, “i dunno what’s going on with you but i don’t know how much longer they’re gonna let us play here if you keep playing like that.”

eddie sighs, because he knows this. he’s well aware that his performances have been lacklustre for weeks now. he just doesn’t really understand why.

at first he thought it was just because you were there, a distance friend who would feed back to his friends about how good, or bad, he was.

but that wasn’t it.

you were there, and then you weren’t. and he still played like shit.

somewhere entangled deep within his wretched heart, he thinks that maybe he just wanted to impress you.

a nice girl, cares about her studies way more than he does, pretty too and you didn’t look at him like he was just some out of touch stoner with crazy dreams of his band getting big.

you were polite, listening to his wacky stories and dreams of playing for thousands, in fact, you encouraged them, more than his friends ever had for sure.

eddie’s not sure if, or how, he’ll ever be able to make amends for how he’s treated you.

he’s making himself sick with worry. guilt wracking his brain.

you don’t turn up that night, obviously.

eddie’s eyes mindlessly search the crowd for any hint of you. his fingers failing to correspond with the rest of band, always playing a beat behind.

you had infected him, ruined his once masterful skill to just a shell of what it once was.

he doesn’t lay opportunity for the boys to speak to him again, rushing out of the bar as soon as his guitar is back in her case.

there’s only one place he can think about going.

a few months back, you’d hosted robin’s birthday party there and eddie had disgraced your bathroom with a girl he can’t even remember now.

his fist bangs on the door, hoping the light in the upstairs window was you and not one of your roommates he’d have to shamefully apologise to.

the orange light cascades over your face, peeking out from the barely cracked door with a frown that would scare any man off.

“what’re you doing?” you spit, looking backwards in hopes he hadn’t woken the entire house up.

“listen,” he sighs, “i’m real sorry about.. you know, lying to you,” his shoulders slumped over themselves, “but i just- i can’t fucking play when you’re there, can’t play when you’re not,” sounding utterly pathetic, begging for you to cure him from this sudden sickness. “i don’t know what to do anymore,” dragging his hand over his face.

rightfully earning his spot as the worlds biggest fucking loser, stood on your doorstep begging for an answer.

when he opens his eyes enough to look at you, you’re scowling back at him. nothing like how he had planned this situation in his head.

he’d hoped that miraculously you’d understand, accept his apology and somehow still feel the same as you had.

because that was it, really.

too terrified to face the fact that he liked you too.

somewhere in his heart of hearts he’d known it from the start. that’s why his heart fluttered when you’d volunteered to come or why he’d struggled to even touch anyone else.

“what do you want me to say?” shrugging, “i won’t come back, that’s fine,” he wishes you’d just follow the script he’d curated for you.

eddie doesn’t want you to stop coming, he never had. it’s killing him that you even believed that, twisting the knife in his chest further and further the more your bottom lip juts out and your eyes water.

“actually, maybe it’s best if we don’t talk anymore,” you suggest, throwing him completely off kilter.

woah.

that wasn’t at all what he wanted nor was he trying to say. he just couldn’t gather the actual words he needed to express that to you.

petrified that he’d admit to his feelings and you’d just turn around and laugh, how could someone like you ever like such a cruel man?

“wait no, that’s not what i meant-,” bargaining with you for a little time to explain himself, though you definitely didn’t owe him any.

“-thanks for coming eddie, i’ll see you around,” flashing him a crestfallen smile before abruptly closing the door in his face.

public humiliation was truly the only way eddie could think to make it up to you.

well that and maybe a little big nudge from robin.

he’d rather stupidly asked about you on saturday night, confused why you weren’t there alongside robin, who had very quickly got him in check.

“why do you think dumbass?” she snapped, snarling her teeth at him, “you were an asshole and now she’s doesn’t want to come anymore,” her glare powerful and harsh, "i'd say you were lucky she didn't punch you in the face."

he’d deserve it.

it had taken weeks of convincing to get you anywhere near the hideout again. not to mention the hundreds in free weed he’d had to bribe robin with to get her to help.

you stand in a dark corner, hands folded against your chest, puzzled and irritated by robin’s incessant begging to get you here.

“there’s someone here that i wanna apologise to,” his eyes don’t find you as easy this time, after weeks of missing your presence, he’s not used to you actually being in the crowd again, “if you know us, you know i can be a bit of an asshole sometimes, uh..” they find you, the lump only growing in his throat, “i’m sorry,” tunnel vision blocking out every other body in the room, “i’m really, really sorry.”

you blink, staring back at him like a deer caught in headlights. it makes him a little bit nauseous to recall how dreadfully he’d treated you, how you deserved absolutely none of it.

your gaze lowers, and eddie can’t decide how to take it. he wouldn’t blame you if you decided to never forgive him, but he also couldn’t take it if you didn’t.

his voice cracks a little as he speaks, “this is.. uh, we’re corroded coffin,” stepping back from the mic to gather his thoughts before the drum comes crashing in.

eddie plays the best he’s potentially ever played.

a force overcoming him to prove that he truly wasn’t as much as a loser as he’s shown himself to be.

usually, he couldn’t wait to be off that stage and to the bar but today he’s dreading it.

knowing that you’re somewhere out there waiting for an explanation.

or maybe you weren’t. he wouldn’t blame you if you’d decided to leave soon after he’d embarrassed himself with that shitty apology.

gareth runs up behind him, using his shoulders to launch himself into the air, “holy shit! that was amazing!” the boy presses a slobbery kiss to his cheek before continuing, “whatever the hell you did, keep doing it because that was insane!” running off past eddie to grab his weekly complimentary beer.

a sudden sickness fills his stomach, slyly hoping that he could slip out of here before anyone else noticed him.

you stand across the bar, waiting to catch his eye with your lips curled only ever-so-slightly.

eddie’s limbs go stiff, still entranced by your jinx. by you.

your eyes trail away to the door as his follow, shuffling your way through the bustling crowd.

his legs carry him without a second thought, out into the cool night as his eyes frantically search for you.

he finds you perched against the crumbling stone wall a few feet from the entrance, just far enough away from the prying eyes of the smoking patrons.

“i didn’t think you’d ever come back here,” is all he can say, feet trailing along the gravel.

the streetlight glistens orange from your eyes, staring up at him from your perch, “i didn’t want to,” your smile only growing as he nears, “robin made me.”

“oh,” it wasn’t as if he didn’t know that or that he didn’t orchestrated the entire thing, it just felt odd to hear it from your mouth.

“i’m glad i came,” you clarify, allowing him to finally release the breath held tight in his chest.

eddie dares to move closer, sitting back on the brick just inches away, “yeah?”

you nod, the great big smile he’d forced away making a return at last, “yeah.”

suddenly the air feels thick, it was easier apologising on stage, those people didn’t know him, they didn’t care. but now, sat here in front of you, it feels like he’s swallowing knives.

“i’m really sorry for making you feel that way,” though it sounds meaningless now the damage was done, “i don’t know if you still care about me at all, but i- um,” his throat runs dry, clamping his eyes shut. it felt easier that way, somehow, “i think the reason why i was such.. an asshole,” the light flickers through his eyelids again, deciding that you at least deserved to see him, “fuck,” he exclaims, staring back at your confused expression.

“it’s okay,” soothing even now, “you don’t have to explain yourself to me,” a twinge of sadness running through your tone.

“no, no i do,” eddie persists. he’d fumbled once, he couldn’t do it again. “shit man,” he sighs, “i’m trying to tell you that i like you too, or maybe not too, i know i was an ass and i don’t deserve your forgiveness-,” your lips cuts him off mid-mumble, surging forward to press them against his blathering ones.

he has to blink a couple times, taking in whatever the fuck was happening to him.

you pull back, disappointed that his brain had been to fuzzy to focus on kissing you back. too preoccupied with trying not to explode and paint you in red.

“really eddie.. it’s okay,” returning to your usual reserved self while his brain still struggles to compute.

“can we do that again?” he asks politely, keeping the bubbling excitement to a minimum.

you laugh, a real, throaty laugh, something he hadn’t heard in weeks, “only if you promise to stop talking,” leaning in once more, the rigid wall suddenly feeling like it was about to collapse from underneath him.

your soft, cherry-tinted lips press against his forehead a second time, allowing him to gather his brain from a pile of mush on the floor just enough to actually kiss you back. a tender hand reaching out to caress his stubbly cheek, sending shockwaves through his limbs.

you’re interrupted again by a loud whoop from behind, robin clapping wildly as she emerges from the bar, “now you two have kissed and made up, can we go home now?”

#eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #request #eddie munson x female reader

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dcxdpdabbles · 8 months

Note

God, I love the Cave Boy series. Will the batfam manage to find him after he dips. Will they ever find out about his powers. So many questions

Danny stays underground for days.

He doesn't know the exact time frame because he only goes to the surface to grab supplies. He makes sure to only fully emerge when there is no light out.

It was a bigger risk to be caught by the Waynes, who only operated in the dark, but it ensured fewer eyewitnesses were around. Danny Kane was still a very hot celebrity for taking down the Joker- he would be surrounded by a mob of fans if he walked down the street.

He moved his ship into a deeper cave by phasing the large metal and all his equipment through solid rock, which was not easy. It was a miracle he found a little pocket to set up shop.

Danny thinks the little pocket- surrounded by stone with no opening at all, was formed after a cave-in at one point. It was large enough to work on his ship and had just enough space to set up a sleeping bag and a tent for rest.

He rarely uses that space nowadays.

Danny had stolen from a camping store- taking with him an entire box of lanterns that he placed strategically around his space. They threw light to the large four walls of stone- making him feel trapped inside a midevil dungeon, and somehow, it also made him think incredulity alone.

That was the worst part of this whole change of scenery. He doesn't want to admit it, but he got used to Wayne Manor and the colorful characters there.

He hadn't even done anything besides lay around but he missed the sound of people. Even before Bruce had found him, Danny would see people often as he wandered around gathering a sense of the city.

Now, he was genuinely suffocating alone. He didn't feel the loss often, but there were times when it felt like being hit by a truck.

It's when his own ice powers reach into his bones, causing his teeth to clatter and curl up into a smaller ball on the cave ground, that Danny misses the Manor the most. He stole food from the stores- but without any way to cook or heat it up, it's limited to the packed food.

Sometimes, while eating packs of dried fruit, he thinks longingly of Alfred's warm meals. Then he remembers how they looked at him when his lies got so out of hand that they believed Bruce's parents lived in his world and he could suppress the longing to return.

Danny has made leaps and bounds on building his ship since he no longer pretends to be Brucie. He no longer filled the hours with nonsense, only being awake to work or stealing what he needed to continue working.

Unlike before, Danny had developed a tunnel version of finishing his project. He no longer wanted to give himself time to ensure everything was fine.

He just wanted to go home.

He's gotten better at wielding using his own ghost laser, and now his ship had its full body. It was missing seats, a window, and even a steering program that actually turned when he wanted- but he was getting closer and closer every day.

All the small technology pieces he stole from the Waynes were on one side- ripped apart for the needed parts. He would spend hours carefully opening everything to check what he could use and what he could melt down to repurpose.

Danny carefully pulls out some small wires from the electric candle he took from the Wayne Dinner table when his vision blurs. He takes a moment to blink rapidly, trying to let the sudden burst of lightheadedness pass him.

Sadly, it was only a few seconds before he crumbled to the hard ground. He gasps, the cold coming back tenfold, and he can do nothing but lay there and pray the pain passes.

Danny hadn't felt this weak since his ice core first developed. Even the first Ghostly Wail hadn't made his limbs feel this heavy.

He knows he has been pushing himself too far lately- barely eating or sleeping- but Danny can't risk any wasted second. He saw the resources the Bats have.

It was only a matter of time before they found him- even if they would need to drill through the solid stone for hours to reach him- and he didn't want to face them after the guilt of lying to them was slowly eating him alive.

He had kept the Wayne at arm's length the entire time, living under the pretense of being Bruce Wayne's counterpart. He told himself he wanted nothing to do with their nightly battle against evil- and he didn't!- and that he could care less if they treated him as family.

He took everything they gave him without hesitation, telling himself they were fools for letting anyone in and stealing from them. Danny thought it would not matter as he would finish his ship and be flying home long before they realized he wasn't Bruce.

Until they stop treating him so warmly after killing the Joker. Danny wasn't sorry about it, but suddenly, he was a stranger in a crowd to them.

Danny had no right to be upset. He lied. He didn't want to be Brucie to them and had actively made Tim look bad by being as Unproactive as possible, going along with changed narratives of his world.

Danny had used the Waynes.

Yes, he did so, believing they were a cult or an evil madman, but he learned that wasn't the case early on. He could have ended the lie at any moment, but he didn't because he figured it would be harmless.

Then he realized that Bruce's parents were killed in front of him- the story wasn't hard to find when he actually bothered to look into the Waynes at a local high school library after hours.

Not only did he find the horrific story, but he found out that almost all the Waynes had a tragic story. Dick's parents were murdered in an accident that wasn't an accident at all.

Tim's parents were killed by a madman with boomerangs. Jason's father died in prison, and his mother overdosed before Bruce took him in. Duke's parents were patients with no working mind because of the Joker (Danny should have made his death last longer).

The only ones that didn't seem to be Cass and Damian, but he knew it was likely due to Bruce not wanting the public to learn that they came from abusive households- he figured that much out by their reactions.

Even Alfred had a history of PTSD from his time in the army. There was an article about a scandal when Bruce had actually been a child- apparently, someone had thought to release firecrackers under the servant's table, and Alfred had panicked. People had mocked him about it for months.

Everyone had a reason to be a villain, yet they all had opened their home to him and been nothing but kind. They were good, and they treated him like family.

Danny felt sick with himself, for being so self-centered he never bothered to really get to know them. And now he never could.

A few tears rolled down his face as his vision started to blur out more and more.

No use crying over it now, Fenton. Though the haze of exhaustion doesn't let him get up from the floor, he thinks bitterly.

He'll rest for a little bit, then get back to work. Only for a few minutes/

Danny doesn't notice his body has shifted in his Ghist side, slowly redirecting his energy to his core, so that his healing could help overcome the unknown days.

He is not aware his heartbeat stops at the same time.

_____________________________________________________________

"I can't hear him anymore!" A young boy screams, pressing his ear against a stone. Horror clouds his voice as he turns to stare at another boy. "His heartbeat....it's not...."

"We must make haste! Breakthrough now!" The other boy snaps.

"But that might cause the cave to fall on top of him." The other rubs his hands together nervously. "I think we may be too late to save-"

"Every second we waste is a second that Brucie gets closer to death!" His company growls savagely, though the tears in his eyes make him less scary. "We have to at least bring his body home- we-I can't- he needs to be buried properly."

Not even a second passed before the other boy threw his shoulders back, yanking out his phone and pressing a speed dial two.

His father picks up two rings. "Jon?"

"Dad! We found Brucie! He was stuck in a cave underneath the tunnels leading to Gotham Cemetry. Can you come help me get him out?"

"I'll be right there."

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #cave boy #Part 8 #Danny is starting to feel guilty #The bats found him #Damian and Jon friendship #It's not good to not take care of yourself

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strangersteddierthings · 10 months

Text

Sequel to Good People - The fic in wherein Wayne doesn't like Steve and overheard a conversation he shouldn't have. Here's the aftermath of that :3

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Final Part

Wayne had stayed in his bedroom long after he heard the boys leave. Eddie had knocked on his door to let him know he'd be staying at Steve's and to not expect him back until late tomorrow, a courtesy he'd never shown until after he'd been the victim of a manhunt back in spring. Wayne never asked him to do that but he thinks Eddie picked up on how worried Wayne would get if he were gone for any amount of time.

Eddie's always been good at reading people when he bothers to pay attention to them. Maybe that should have been enough reason for him to give pause to his dislike of the Harrington boy, instead of needing to overhear the boy crying about how he thinks there's something rotten deep within him that only Wayne can sense.

He'd been so sure he knew what kind of person Steve Harrington was. Eddie had been hung up on boys just like him pert-near his whole life, Wayne thinks, and it's never ended differently.

It's a Tuesday night and his friends usually gather at the bar on Friday nights, but Wayne needs to get out of the trailer to think. A beer might help. So, he grabs his keys and heads out.

He's been a regular at this bar since before he was even old enough to drink. Used to come with his pa, may he rest in peace, just to get out of the house. He's been a patron longer than any of the staff have worked there, he realizes.

"Hello Linda," Wayne greets as he takes a seat at the bar instead of at his usual table. He'd done a cursory glace when he came in and confirmed none of his drinking buddies were in before choosing the bar.

"This isn't your usual day," Linda says, leaning a hip on the counter, "but it's always a pleasure to see you."

"I got some thinkin' to do," Wayne replies and Linda nods and moves away, returning soon with a bottle of his usual beer. She picks up the bottle open and removes the cap before setting the drink down in front of him.

"Need a sounding board, hun?" She asks.

Wayne does a quick survey of the bar again but it's pretty quiet so he returns his gave to Linda and says, "if you wouldn't mind too much hearin' about how an old man might have messed up."

Linda laughs. "You aren't even half a decade older than me, so you best not be sprouting that 'old man' nonsense around me, 'cause I am not some old lady."

"Terribly sorry, Linda. I'm just really feelin' like an old fool."

A small frown comes to Linda's face then. "Now what could you have possibly done?"

"Well, I guess I'm tryin' to figure out if I did mess up. Eddie's got a friend and I don't trust 'im. Thought I had good reason not to, but, well, I overheard somethin' I wasn't supposed ta and now I'm not sure."

Linda hums, "hmm, that doesn't sound like you, judging someone unrightly. You are usually a good read about people."

"I'll admit, I haven't bothered to spend enough time with the boy to, uhh, judge him."

"Wayne Munson," Linda scolds, "you best not be telling me you judged that boy because of other people."

Judging by Linda's raising brow line, he thinks his guilt must be clear on his face. "You know Eddie, and how people have treated him. And with what he just went through- I just want 'im safe. Sure, his new friend graduated last year, but he was on the basketball team his whole career. And I'm jus' supposed ta believe this one boy didn't side with the group who started the manhunt?"

"Unless you've got evidence otherwise, yes," Linda says, brows furrowed.

Wayne sighs. "I ain't got proof. I got a lot of people sayin' he's good, actually. But it's the Harrington boy. The same boy Eddie would come home and complain 'bout. Harrington, Hagan, Hargrove, though I shouldn't speak ill of the dead. All them boys treatin' Eddie like he wasn't worth nothin' until they wanted somethin' form him."

Linda's mouth is almost a perfectly straight line with how much she's pursed her lips the more he talks, but she doesn't interrupt and no customer calls for her, so he continues.

"And you know what Richard Harrington was like. I know y'all only shared one school year together, but Janice wasn't any better, and she was your year, wasn't she?" Linda gives him one nod in response. "That boy's a product of them. I- You can't fault me for thinkin' differently."

"So, when do you expect Eddie to end up in prison?"

The question throws Wayne and fills him with anger at the same time. "Now, Linda, I ain't likin' what you are implyin'."

"I ain't implyin' nothing," she says, using the same tone with him that he did with her. "I'm applying your logic. Eddie's a product of his parents, ain't he? Al's in prison, and his mama's long gone, bless her soul. And since Eddie ain't sick, last I heard, he must be following after his daddy."

The anger leaves him then, and all he's left with is shame. "Point made. And if I'm bein' fully honest with ya, I don't even need ya to defend that boy. That thing I overheard. That what's eatin' at me. He called me good people."

Linda softens, shoulders dropping, "you are good people, hun."

"That boy told my Eddie that I'm 'good people', and that his parents are bad ones, and I. I don't know what to do about that."

"He thinks his own parents are bad?"

Wayne nods, "is what he said. Thinks I can somehow sense he's also rotten just by association."

"There's nothing to it, then," Linda says, like they've already talked out the tangled mess that is Wayne's thoughts on Steve Harrington and have reached a conclusion. Well, perhaps Linda already has. She's always been bright, and she's usually right. "You, Wayne Robert Munson, need to apologize to that boy. The guilt and shame's gonna put you into your cups otherwise."

Wayne nods slowly, though he isn't even sure if he agrees or is just acknowledging what she said before he takes a long pull from his bottle before lowering both his arms to rest on the counter as he replies, "You're right as usual, Linda my dear. I just gotta let go of the fact he's Richard Harrington's son and try and see just Steve."

"Damn right. Eddie might be Al's by birth, but you raised him and he turned out alright. Maybe Steve got the same treatment. Had his own Wayne around to raise him right."

There might be a bit of truth to that. He's heard enough talk about Steve Harrington over the years to think that. One of his drinking buddies used to be Jim Hopper. He's heard about the amount of parties he'd had to go shut down at the Harrington's house, with no parents to be seen. (Always Jim's biggest gripe back then. "Where's this kids goddamn parents!?) Wayne always assumed their kid just took advantage every time his parents were gone, but maybe it's the opposite. Maybe they were always gone, and Steve had parties to not be alone in his house.

Linda's right. There is nothing to it. He needs to talk to Steve, properly apologize, and go from there.

"It ain't an easy thing, admittin' you might be wrong," Wayne sighs.

Linda reaches across the counter and places a hand on Wayne's arm just below his wrist. Wayne looks up from where he'd ended up staring at his bottle, making eye contact with her. "If your boy is friends with this boy, it's for a reason. Just give him a chance. You are one of the good ones, but even we can have a lapse in judgment now and then. Doesn't make you bad, makes you human."

"Ain't no one perfect but the good Lord," Wayne says and Linda nods in agreement.

"Alright. I'll leave you to your beer and your thoughts for now, but you best keep me updated on your situation. I wanna know how it goes," Linda retracts her hand and heads down the counter to check on the few other people sitting about nursing drinks.

Wayne sits in his thoughts more than he drinks, so by the time he's done with the beer it's warm but that's fine. He will talk to the Harrington kid, but he wants to talk to Eddie first. He owes his nephew that much, and he does recall Eddie saying something to the effect of 'he'll come around' to Steve, and Wayne wants to tell Eddie he'll try.

Also he doesn't want to just corner the boy after he's been somewhat intimidating intentionally. He's going to get Eddie to ask if Steve'll talk to him.

True to his word, Eddie returns home late the next day. The clock says it's almost 6 when Eddie finally comes through the front door. If he's surprised to see Wayne awake, he doesn't show it. He does work the graveyard shift, and he's got a shift at 10 tonight, usually wakes up two hours before his shift. He'd wanted to make sure he caught Eddie, though, so he's been up since three.

"Eddie, you got a minute?" Wayne says.

"Sure. What's up?" Eddie says as he pulls off his jacket, depositing it on the nearest surface before plopping sideways on the couch so he's facing Wayne.

"I gotta come clean. I overheard some of what you and Steve were talkin' about," Wayne says, because he's a man of his word and he's always been good at doing the hard thing if it also turns out to be the right thing. He's got to be honest with Eddie, so he can be honest with himself. "Heard Harr- Steve talkin' 'bout how he thinks I'm a good person, and his parents aren't."

Eddie's quiet for a moment, blinking owlishly back at him while he thinks. "Oh. Umm. Sorry. I just- I think this is the first time I've heard you say Steve's name."

"Not the part I thought you'd focus on," Wayne huffs a laugh, "but I owe your boy an apology and I was hopin' you could help me make it happen."

"My boy- what is happening," Eddie drops his voice to whisper the question to himself.

"What's happening is I'm doin' the thing I always told you ta do. Taking accountability and fixin' my mistake."

"Oh. Oh!" Eddie narrows his eyes at Wayne, "you've made an ass out of me. All those times I assured Steve you were just being standoffish and you were- what were you doing?"

"Intentionally keepin' the boy at a distance 'cause I thought he was gonna hurt you. I sure as hell ain't been friendly. I been judging him because I knew his parents, thinkin' about how an apple don't fall far from the tree," Wayne stops, giving pause to see if Eddie will speak but he isn't. He's just staring at Wayne like he's a puzzle. "It was brought to my attention that it's mighty unfair to judge someone 'cause of how their parents act."

Eddie's brow furrows and his lips purse. It makes him think of Linda. She'd made the exact same face. "I- Jesus fuck this is weird, but I. I think I'm mad at you. Disappointed."

Eddie doesn't say it with an angry tone, and his face still looks more puzzled than mad, but the sentence feels like a kick to the chest anyway. Eddie and he have never been mad at each other, not in the eight years Eddie's lived here with him. They've been worried and scared for each other that, or mad at someone or something else that they take out on each other, but never mad at each other.

"You've every right to be."

Eddie stands from the couch, paces down the hallway, and Wayne thinks this might be the end of any conversation tonight, but instead Eddie comes storming back up the hall. "So, what, did you take me in expecting me to be my dad!?"

"No. He mighta contributed to your birth, but we both know that man ain't nurtured you a day in his life."

"Yeah, well, Steve's parents didn't raise him either, so all this has been bullshit! You made Steve think he's, he's broken and a bad person! And," Eddie's eyes are wet and he's angry but also about to cry. Wayne hasn't seen him like this in a long time. Not since the day they learned Al was in prison, fifteen years with a chance for parole if he's on his best behavior. Eddie had been so angry, and sad, and hurt by the news. Eddie's like that now, worked up so much he's repeating himself as he hiccups his words out around the lump in this throat, "And, and you made me help him feel that way! Because I didn't take him serious when he said, said you didn't like him! I thought you were being, being a dad, all fake gruff to intimidate the guy I like but it's- you were- FUCK!"

Wayne lets him yell. He deserves it, and Eddie needs it. Eddie's not saying anything untrue. He takes in what Eddie is yelling at him; Steve's parents didn't raise him, and how Wayne's cold shoulder must have added to whatever else Steve has going on in his life.

"I, I h-held him while he b-bawled into my shirt last night! He, he thinks- and you, you didn't even trust me! T-trust my own j-judgment of, of Steve! I, I need- I can't-" Eddie doesn't finish the sentence. He turns on his heel and storms back down the hall, the slamming of his door finalizing this conversation.

To say that Wayne feels terrible is inadequate. He's hurt his boy, and he's hurt his boy's boy, and he's got no one to blame but himself.

Now he's got two apologies to make.

I tried to tag as many people as I could remember that expressed interest in a follow up fic. I am SO sorry if I missed you. Please let me know if you want to be tagged in the final part. I will only be tagging people who ask to be tagged going forward 'cause it's a lot of people to remember and my memory is garbage.

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss @unclewaynemunson @itsthestrangestthings @emofratboy @devondespresso @finntheehumaneater @loopholesinmydreams @yourmom-isgay @wrenisflying @emsgoodthinkin @messrs-weasley @madigoround @jackiemonroe5512 @gutterflower77 @zerokrox-blog @eriquin @samyuck @lunarmaruna @mugloversonly @kaij-basil-lionelli88

#steddie #my fic #wayne pov #wayne munson #eddie munson #honestly this didnt go the way i thought it would #so there will be a third and final part. Wayne's gonna make it right because he's a good uncle. A good dad.#SPOILER: steve doesnt even show up in this part so im not tagging him

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moonstruckme · 1 year

Text

Doting

summary: you feel needy for wanting support after a hard day. Your boyfriends set you straight

poly!marauders x reader ♡ 1.4k words

You sit on the couch, surrounded by all the love you could ever want, and do your best not to sulk.

In the kitchen, Remus hums as he makes dinner, and Sirius and James are playing cards on the coffee table in front of you while you pretend to read.

“I’m out,” James declares proudly, laying the last of his cards on the table as Sirius throws his down with a huff.

“I’m done playing with a cheater,” Sirius says with faux malice, turning around to look at you sweetly from where he sits at your feet. “Y/N, gorgeous, want to join me for a game?”

You paste a smile on your face. “Thanks Siri, but I’m busy.” You hold up your book as evidence, and he pouts but turns back around, reshuffling the cards.

You notice James studying your features, and you do your best to look content, normal. After years of being around the other two boys and their silent misery, James has gotten very skilled at detecting a dismal mood, and you don’t want to ruin everyone’s night. In truth, you’d had an awful day. A customer had yelled at you at work, and then you’d been stupid enough to cry while driving, almost getting in an accident due to your distraction. You’d arrived home shaken and upset, and had barely had time to pull yourself together before Sirius had come in the door a few minutes later, Remus and James following not long after. You don’t enjoy being so delicate that having any amount of anger directed at you reduces you to a sniveling mess, and you’d resisted the urge to lock yourself away in your room in the hopes that acting like everything was normal would eventually make you feel normal.

So far, it isn’t working as well as you’d hoped.

If anything, it feels odd to be the dark cloud of such a joyous space; with Sirius and James laughing and bickering in front of you, Remus humming just around the corner, and the delicious smell of whatever he’s making beginning to waft toward you from the kitchen, you feel unappreciative and embarrassed for being unhappy. Beyond that, you know you have the sweetest boyfriends in the world, and they’d drop everything if they knew you were upset. Frankly, you don’t deserve their kindness when you're wallowing in self-pity over something so silly. You’d only be dragging them into your sorrow with you, and there’s no sense in all of you being down there together. You can handle it on your own.

But James’ too-perceptive gaze seems to find some fault in your placid facade, and though you will him desperately not to, he asks, “You alright, angel?”

You give him a different smile this time; it’s smaller, a bit more honest, but a smile nonetheless. “Yeah,” you say, in your most placating tone. “I’m good, thanks Jamie.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm.”

James’ eyes are slightly troubled, but he nods, directing his attention back to the cards. It’s too late, though, because now Sirius is turning back towards you, something in James’ tone or yours tipping him off. He sets down the deck, pulling himself up onto the couch to sit beside you, his eyes level with yours.

“What’s going on?” he asks in that rare no-nonsense way that lets you know he’s serious.

You hate when they tag-team you like this. James may be good at picking up on your moods, but he also knows when you want to be left alone. Sirius, on the other hand, prefers to root out any bad feelings and beat them into submission.

“Nothing,” you say, no longer under any impression that either boy believes you. Still, you take Sirius’ hand, squeezing reassuringly. “It’s okay.”

Sirius is undeterred, searching your face like it’ll come clean when you won’t. You can’t take the intensity of his stare and drop your gaze, but he only stoops to follow it. You’re trapped.

“Hey,” he says softly, his thumb stroking your hand cajolingly. “What’s your deal, huh? Talk to us, baby.”

It's the pet name that gets you, and the first tear leaks from your eye just as Remus comes in with dinner.

He stops short at the new, sullen atmosphere of the living room, but rushes over once he sees your face.

“What’s going on?” He sets the plates aside, seating himself on your other side.

“We don’t know,” James says, moving to sit on the coffee table, his knees brushing your legs where they’re curled up under you. “She hasn’t said.”

“She’s right here,” you joke, but no one smiles.

Remus takes the hand not currently claimed by Sirius. “What’s wrong, love?”

You press your lips together to keep them from wobbling, blinking rapidly in a futile attempt to reverse the course the evening is taking.

“Honey.” His tone is admonishing, but still unbearably sweet, and you crumple, more tears falling as a gasping sob escapes you. Remus pulls you into him as though he can make you a shelter out of his own body, and you go willingly. “Was it a bad day? Is that it?”

You can only nod, not trusting yourself to speak. After a beat, Sirius asks, “Are we going to have to beat someone up?”

You laugh, and it’s awful and pitchy, but it loosens some of the pressure in your chest. James’ hand finds your shoulder, squeezing encouragingly before starting to rub slow, soothing circles into your upper back.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out.

“What the hell for?” Sirius asks, and you open your eyes in time to see Remus give him a harsh look. Sirius ignores him, reaching for you. His thumb is gentle as he wipes under your lashes. “You know you can tell us these things, don’t you?”

“I just—” You take a shuddering breath. “It was so embarrassing, and I didn’t want to ruin everyone’s night.”

“Sweetheart,” James coos. “We don’t care. We’d so much rather know you’re upset and be able to help than have you suffer in silence all night. Besides, don’t you think you deserve the same treatment you give us?”

Shame washes over you, and you tuck yourself further into Remus’ side. “You guys never ask as much of me as I do of you.”

James’ eyebrows jump nearly to his hairline and Sirius makes an incredulous sound, but it’s Remus who speaks. “Dove, are you serious? What about when I had a migraine last month, and you stayed home with me all day?” He maneuvers you in his arms until you’re facing him, looking you in the eye. “Or the last time James had a bad day, and you went on a run with him so he’d have company, even though you hate running? Or just last weekend, when Sirius got too wasted—” You can feel the glare Sirius is shooting him from behind you, but Remus continues—”and you stayed up with him all night holding his hair, and then in the morning you brought him gatorade and cleaned his sick out of the carpet?”

“Don’t act like you’re so needy,” Sirius says, and you turn towards his voice to find his stare just as piercing as you left it, “and we’re all perfectly self-sufficient. You’re not the only one who needs help sometimes, so if you have a bad day, we wanna hear about it.” He’s looking at you like your silliness astounds him, and James grasps your shoulder with a small smile, giving you a little shake as if to reprimand you.

You look helplessly towards the plates Remus had brought in only a few minutes before, discarded on the edge of the coffee table.

“Dinner’s gonna get cold,” you say mournfully.

Remus shrugs. “I’ll microwave it. And if you wanna talk, we will, and if you don’t, you can pick us a movie to watch, yeah?”

You look at the three of them, gratitude and love both so huge and warm in your chest you can’t tell which is which. “Okay.”

“Good.” Sirius tugs you out of Remus’ arms and into his own, planting a kiss on the side of your head. “Merlin, you’re tough to get things out of. Think you could go a bit easier on yourself in the future?”

“Yeah,” James pipes up. “Be nicer to our girl, she’s had a rough day.”

You hide your face in Sirius’ chest, flushing, but at least this time, your smile is real.

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letorip · 5 months

Text

i heard your name

"i heard your name and i'll never be the same”

===+++===

pairing: cairo sweet x reader

summary: after a life of fleeting things, you come to tennessee, and find someone you don’t want to be “fleeting” anymore, though she may come with ulterior motives

warnings: rivalry, references to sex, hints at student-teacher relationships, reader is being used (duh)

word count: 4.8k

A/N: i really really hate the concept of miller's girl as a whole, but i can't deny that cairo sweet is a captivating character psychologically, and that jenna does an absolutely amazing job. inspired by lolita, pale fire by vladimir nabokov, and the movie hot summer nights.

===+++===

You became aware of Cairo Sweet on a hot, sunny school day, one that almost seemed to mock your lack of enthusiasm for the new school in its beauty and the light breeze.

The high school was an ugly building, one that sat in limbo between southern charm and the studious American educational experience seen in the likes of pretentious New England. The decorator had clearly not known which one to pick, but no amount of fancy classrooms or bookshelves and Turkish rugs would make you forget you were in Tennessee of all places.

It would be just as unmemorable and brief as the last, and that’s exactly what you reminded yourself while you waited dreadfully early in the front office, in an uncomfortable yellow plastic chair that had one leg much shorter than the others.

The receptionist lady seemed nice enough, smiling at you all bright and wrinkly like old people did. “So sorry about the wait, dearie. Any minute now, she’ll be—”

“It’s no problem,” you shrugged. “I’m not really in a rush.”

The woman nodded, her eyes melting into little crows feet at the ends. There was a theory you had heard once, that the more wrinkles someone had, the more they had smiled in their life. It didn’t fit many of the crotchety old people you had met, who seemed to have frowns permanently stitched onto their leathery faces, but it definitely fit her. She glowed like a beacon, or twinkled like a chandelier of happiness.

“Are you excited about coming here?" She asked. "Starting the new semester has to be exciting!” The entire time the older woman kept sheepishly glancing over at the door, waiting someone to come in. Whoever was supposed to be guiding your tour was clearly very late.

You had long given up on hoping your mom would pick a spot and stay there. In two more months maybe, she would announce she 'wanted a change' again, and you wouldn't give this place a second thought when you left, just as you hadn't given the last places a second thought either. But you couldn't just say no.

You smiled back at her. "Yeah, kinda. This seems like a good school."

"Oh it's just splendid!" She assured you. "The kids love it here, it's just-" Before she could finish, the office door swung open, and a girl in crazy clothing bustled in, dropping her bag on the floor in the middle of the room and spinning to the receptionist.

“I’m so, so sorry!” She said, visibly dishevelled (though maybe that was just her nonsense outfit) and maybe sweating a bit. “I completely forgot I was supposed to do this!” She laughed. She seemed like one of those girls that were always drunk— not in a sad, alcoholic way, but like they were drunk on life (and maybe alcohol too).

“It’s alright, Winnie. They haven’t been waiting long.” Winnie spun around, noticing you where you sat, leaning your head back against the wall.

“Hi there, I’m Winnie,” she said, holding out her hand with a smile. You stood up and shook it in your own, smiling back. This would all be fleeting anyhow.

“Hi, yeah I heard. (Y/n)."

Winnie tilted her head, giving you a devilish smirk. She was absurdly energetic for it being so early. "Boy, aren’t you cute.”

“And aren’t you really forward,” you laughed.

She shrugged. “I think it’s more fun that way. You got a nickname?"

"Eh," you shrugged. You did, from your mom, but it wasn't worth mentioning when you wouldn't be here that long. "Not really."

"Nooo, you definitely should have one," she said, and you raised your eyebrows at her.

"I'm really good, I think," you said, grinning. "Not the most nickname—able name out there."

"Fine," she shrugged. "Suit yourself I guess. Now c’mon,” said Winnie, sticking her hand out to you. There was a certain glint in her eyes then. “I’m gonna show you every little place in this shitty little school.”

"Winnie, language!" The receptionist scolded her.

"Sorry," she winced.

Winnie dragged you around the halls like that, hand in hand and pointing into classrooms; she waved to the people that she passed. It was decent sized school, with a big cafeteria and gym, but not much else unique to boast except for the few sports fields outside. Your last school didn't have that, but it had been northern Alaska, so it made sense. It was probably hard, what with the snow.

“Boris!” Winnie waved over at a man in a track suit, with a whistle around his neck that all gym teachers seemed to wear. He rolled his eyes, waving back at her. "That's Coach Fillmore," she explained.

“What’ve I told you about that, Winnie?” He asked.

Winnie slipped her red-heart sunglasses over her eyes, flashing him a smile. “Still your favourite though, right?”

“Yeah yeah.” And he turned his attention back to the football field, coffee in hand. Winnie spun back to you, with an almost infectious aura.

"So, why'd you move?" she asked, grabbing your hand again and tugging you back inside. The metal door slammed shut behind you with a loud thud.

"Witness Protection Program," you shrugged as she pulled you around the corner. “On the run from the cartel." She looked at you like you were crazy for a moment, eyes all wide, then you laughed and ruined it. "I'm kidding. Not actually."

"OOooooO, I like you. Cute and unserious. I thought you were going to be all square, but it turns out you can joke," said Winnie, shaking her head at you. "What's your locker number, again?"

You handed her the paper. "She wrote it on here."

Winnie took it from your hand, holding it up to the fluorescent lights and examining it like a slide under a microscope. "Ah, damn. You're on the opposite side of the school from me. Like literally, the exact opposite side. That's good though, right? Your first block is Calc?"

"Uh, no. It's uh..." you stopped, leaning against a wall and sliding your backpack off. You pulled your schedule from the top pocket. "Creative Writing, with Mr. Miller."

Winnie's eyes lit up, and she punched you on the arm. "No, fucking way?! That's my first block too!"

You shrugged. "I'd honestly rather do that than calculus right now, so."

Winnie laughed. "Yeah, you and any normal person." She stopped for a minute. "Are you okay if I go off and get some breakfast before class? Winnie hungee," she said, rubbing her stomach. "I also kind of ditched my friend, and I told her I'd find her."

You nodded. "Go ahead. I'm just gonna find my locker."

"Okay!" She said, giving you a small salute. "See you in class."

===+++===

You found your way well enough, and after fumbling with the big metal lock and struggling to put the code in, could actually open your yellow locker and throw the heavy bag you had been carrying inside.

You could see other kids walking up and opening theirs around you. Their doors had metal magnets and small whiteboards, stickers and posters. You hadn't brought stuff to decorate your locker in four years. Instead, your backpack had everything you carried in it, ready to go at the drop of a hat.

The creative writing classroom was down a hallway that split off near the gym, and luckily seemed less ugly than the rest of the school. The room smelled of pine and paper, which was probably a good sign, and bookshelves and glass jars littered the walls with a bunch of other random things setting the scenery for the big chalkboard and wooden desk in the middle.

Most of the other students were already there when you arrived through the double doors, including Winnie. She stood at one of the front desks talking to someone. When she saw you, she waved, eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree even from afar. In her past life, this girl would have been a golden retriever. You waved back then turned away, heading to one of the back desks that put you firmly away from the teacher's line of sight.

Mr. Miller seemed like an alright guy, or just enough of one. He didn't do any cheesy introductions of people, or make you do one of those stupid icebreakers that made you want to die, no— he was straight to the point, with just a splash of drama.

"Hello everyone! This semester my main goal is to make you write. And I mean really write." He paused for dramatic effect, as if he thought it was Dead Poet's Society. "This is not like your other English classes, where you put minimal effort into a 'meh' essay and turn it in, and you're happy with a B. No, I want you to feel something."

After that, you couldn't help but tune him out. He wasn't bad, no. But he was just boring and unremarkable, and anything a high school writing teacher from Tennessee would be, in the way he stuttered or played with the lid of his plastic coffee cup.

He spent most of the class prattling off the syllabus and giving out the first assignment, due in a couple of days. You weren't especially interested in writing as a whole, and even less interested in the prompt of 'write about you,' but you shoved the paper into your backpack and figured you'd give it a shot.

"Mr. Miller?" asked a voice from the front.

"Yes, Cairo?” Mr. Miller said, and you raised your head up, looking to where he was speaking. The hand belonged to a girl with dark hair, and you immediately recognised her as the one Winnie had been talking to before class. She was clearly very smart, with a small stack of books on her desk in front of her.

“Are we talking about ourselves literally, as in our achievements, or as in our emotions and how we feel?” she asked. Cairo looked pretty when she talked, though you dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. This was fleeting. It was important to remember that.

“It’s up to you, actually,” he replied, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaning back against his desk. “Whatever really lets me know you.” Boy, how cliche.

When class ended, Winnie bounded over to you with a smile, her school bag tucked under her arm like it had been earlier. “Sooo, how was your first class?”

“It was pretty good, no complaints,” you said, fumbling with your folder and shoving it back into your bag.

“So, listen, do you want to sit with me at lunch? Me and Cairo sit together and you can totally join us if you want,” said Winnie, still as bubbly as ever. She gestured towards the door, and you could see the girl from earlier looking through the books on the bookshelf that stood next to it.

You shook your head. “Sorry, I got invited by a group to sit with them and I already said I would.”

Winnie frowned, pouting cartoonishly with her lower lip drooping. “No worries. If ever again though, me and Cairo would be happy to have you."

You gave her a tight-lipped smile. "Maybe tomorrow."

You ate lunch that day leaning against a concrete wall underneath the football bleachers, with no one else around, a thick paperback in your one hand and a sandwich in the other, headphones over your ears.

===+++===

"Thank you all so much for your submissions," Mr. Miller said, a stack of essays sitting under his arms as he passed them back to the class. The weather of that Friday was much more relaxed, with a smattering of clouds covering up the sun, the way you liked it.

The past three days had been just as uneventful as the last, and you went home each night only to wake up the next morning and stay equally as unenthusiastic, and attempt to bury your face into the fabric of your pillow for another five minutes.

He cleared his throat. "I've decided to do something fun, and kind of crown a 'winner' for the week, if you will." He shrugged. "It's just someone I really was impressed with, and want to recognise so, uh, we'll do this after every writing piece."

From behind the class with your head propped up on your palm, you saw Cairo tensing at his words. It had become clear even through disinterested observation that she cared way more about the class than literally anyone else— maybe even Mr. Miller. She raised her hand first, offered feedback on anyone made to read aloud, and always stayed after. She was probably itching for the recognition and you figured she deserved it too.

Which was why it shocked the hell out of you when Mr. Miller walked right up to his desk, put his hands in his pockets, cleared his throat like he thought it was a drum-roll moment, and announced, "this week I was incredibly impressed with (Y/n)'s writing."

There was no way. You froze, not entirely sure he was talking to you. Maybe he had just mispronounced someone else's name indistinguishably close to yours. Cairo's head whipped around, face equally as in shock. There was no way. Winnie was smiling at you, other kids were staring, and you wanted to die.

"Uh...thanks."

From the other side of the room, Winnie whooped for you, clapping a little, in an awkward way. Someone else let out a cough. Mr. Miller shook his head, and said, "No, thank you. Your writing was really impressive. It made me feel, in a way that was refreshing from some other things I've read."

Cairo whipped back around to gape at him for a moment and then back to you. Then, back to Mr. Miller as he continued. "I don't have much in terms of prizes, but there is a bowl of candy over there, and you can take one if you'd like."

You nodded, standing up and making your way over to the clear bowl. Why the hell not. Writing had never been something you thought you were fantastic at— you had never shared it with anyone since there had been no one to share it with. Your fingers went in, and out you pulled a grape lollipop, retreating back to your seat and popping it in your mouth.

From the front, you felt Cairo glancing at you from over her shoulder, but tried to ignore the raising hairs on the back of your neck with her focus on you. “Okay,” said Mr. Miller. “Turn to your textbooks.”

===+++===

The grape lollipop was still in your mouth at lunchtime, leaning against the concrete wall and feeling the hot Tennessee breeze ruffle against your soft shirt, moving it gently against your skin. It was quiet out, and you had your headphones over one ear, leaving the other one to listen to the trees and the wind.

That's how you heard the footsteps from around the corner, even through your music. You looked up from where your eyes had been tracing the cracks of the concrete and watching the ants walk by into their nearby hill, and there she was.

Cairo Sweet had found you.

She stood a bit down the way, on the path, with her arms crossed right over her chest. Her eyes were just as dark as before, and they bore into yours with a strange carnal desire. It sent a shiver down your spine.

"Uh, hi?" you managed. She didn’t even acknowledge it.

"So, how long are you going to keep lying to Winnie for?" Cairo asked, her voice as smooth as butter on your ears. It was a question that caught you completely off guard in its sincerity.

"Uh— I'm not— I haven't been lying," you stammered. Cairo wasn't convinced; her eyebrows lifted a little, creasing her forehead in disbelief. She took a step, one agonisingly after the other, closing the distance between you two until she stood directly beneath you, staring up through her lashes in a near haunting way. Subconsciously you took a small step back.

"I have a question," she whispered, like it was right in your ears. You could feel your blood rushing to them quickly, and it felt as if everything was happening in an almost sinful daze, slow and burning.

"Yeah?" you murmured back, fighting against the lollipop to speak. It made it harder to swallow.

"Can you smell my perfume?" Cairo asked, and your brain hung off every word that spilled from her lips.

"Yes," You clumsily nodded, eyes shooting down to her perfect mouth as it moved, then up to the freckled apples of her cheeks. You knew you were breathing loudly. "It's lavender, and—"

"—Good," she praised, barely audible in her sickly soft whisper. You nodded again, head feeling heavy. God, this girl. "Good," Cairo said again. You didn't know what to say.

"I want to read your essay," she continued, scanning the bleachers for a moment and then eyes shifting back to you in full force. She had you right where she wanted you. Under her thumb.

"Uhhhh, why?" you trailed off, confused as all hell and letting out an awkward laugh to cover.

"It's good, isn't it?" She asked, challenging you with her stare and a smirk, as if to say she knew exactly what she was doing to you chemically. "I haven't found many I want to read."

"Essays?" You mumbled.

"Good ones," she corrected you, whispering it slowly. Your gaze lowered to her lips again, her lower one caught between her teeth. Her own eyes flew to the lollipop, the stick hanging between you both.

Your breathing hitched when her hand came up, lightly grabbing the end and oh so gently pulling it from your mouth, some of your saliva carrying with it. She twirled it, never breaking eye contact with you as she placed the purple crystalline sugar on her tongue, closing her mouth around it for a moment. Cairo smiled, then pulled it from her lips and placed it back in yours.

You blinked slowly, unsure of what this was but finding it all too addicting to know how to stop it. At the sound of voices in the distance, the spell was broken, and Cairo looked back over her shoulder. You cleared your throat, realising the situation you were in.

"What're you trying to do?" You asked. It wasn't a gentle question, but it wasn't a harsh one either. Part of you wanted her to whisper back something cheesy and romantic. Or maybe you wanted something salacious to come from her all-too-plush lips, and the moment to end with hers on yours.

But instead she just blinked at you. It was like the question had taken her power away; she faltered completely. She frowned, almost frustrated by you asking, and she didn't have an answer. "Just let me know about the essay? I'd really like to read it."

Before you could reply, she turned around and walked away, as if going back to a drawing board far off in the distance. You watched her go, turning the lollipop over in your mouth.

===+++===

I should like to think that when I am older, the places I have been will make me cry. They will not meld together, in one long train; I will not move from car to car, blazing past what it may contain and never stopping to look out the window.

I will slide into a booth or take out a folding chair if I must, and watch the world go by. I will sit atop the mountains or amongst the grains of sand on a beach, and watch my eyes begin to water in the light of the setting sun.

Your eyes scanned over the essay in your hands, flipping through it and looking at all of Mr. Miller's notes. There were only four, and two of them were 'Wow!'. Even knowing he was impressed, you were at a loss for how this could be considered impressive. It was just words on a paper. Not difficult to write them, or copy them down. You were just talking, but on a page.

My mother seems to think I can’t hear her crying through the walls at night, wishing she were different. Her tears keep me up, and I trip and drown in the puddles of her despair, falling through the surface and into the depths hidden beneath, whenever I leave my room. I love her, and she always manages to convince herself I do not. She loves me, I always must convince myself she does.

It was this paragraph that made you hesitate, standing behind your locker door and rereading it over and over in your mind. There was no way you could show this to someone- and especially not Cairo.

And right there, like Cairo was conjured up by your mind, she was walking right past you, bag over her shoulder and book under her arm. You looked at her pass, the voice in the back of your mind whispering the word fleeting into your ear. It had been a week since your uncomfortable conversation (if you could even call it that) from underneath the bleachers, and she was acting weird.

She was almost avoiding you, and it was rather noticeable. Not to anyone else, who were unaware you knew each other existed, but to you, you knew. When Winnie said good morning and Cairo happened to be there, she would glance away, fully aware of you staring at her like a big idiot.

You found your way into the classroom, and Mr. Miller was writing something on the board in big white letters. It said 'MEANING,' and 'SYMBOL' in a smaller script underneath. He turned back when he was done, smiling over at Cairo and stuffing his hands into his pockets.

She always was the class favourite, and it made sense. Even if your writing was enchantingly fantastic, or some other amazing bullshit word Mr. Miller would write in blue pen that made you doubt he could actually read, Cairo was the one who actually tried. "I want everyone," he said, clearing his throat with a grunt, "to find a partner and sit down with them. This is going to be a partner activity."

You froze. Shit. These things sucked when you were the new kid who knew no one. You glanced over at Winnie, hopeful you'd find a partner in her, but she was madly gesturing towards Cairo to get her attention, and it made you smile a bit at the look on her face— until you saw who Cairo was staring at. You. Your smile went away in an instant.

Her brown eyes were staring at you again, sharp and intense. Then she picked up her bag, tucked the books she brought with her under her arm, and made due on her plan to pick you. You sent your glance away, as if to pretend you couldn't tell she was coming for you. And yet when her books landed on the table with a soft thud, you couldn't ignore her anymore.

"Care to partner up?" She asked, pulling the chair back to sit down before you could even answer. From the other side of the room, you could see Winnie staring at you, looking confused as all hell.

"Uh, sure," you managed. Was she just going to pretend you two hadn't shared whatever that was? It seemed to be the case, and it seemed she knew you were uncomfortable. Cairo Sweet almost seemed to relish in doing that to people.

"So, how'd you enjoy your first week here?" She asked, pulling out a notebook and flipping to a fresh page. She leaned forward, crossing one leg over her other.

You shrugged carefully. "It was good. Boring, but good."

Cairo nodded. "This is a really boring town, so that makes sense."

"Yeah..." you trailed off. She made putting sentences together incredibly hard for you.

Mr. Miller's assignment was boring beyond belief, but Cairo sat up straight the entire time he gave out directions, eyebrows lowering a bit or head tilting after every clarification, like she was making a mental reminder to remember that later. You attempted to ignore her, looking over to the bookshelf on your other side out of boredom.

They were all leather bound, in alternating shades of brown and green, and some hardcovers in sheathes intermixed. Finnegan's Wake and Scienza Nuova, Being and Time and Infinite Jest, you recognised and had read them all. Day-long car rides would do that to you, and it was within reading you found a particular solace from your mom screaming along to the radio.

"(Y/n), are you listening?" Cairo whispered over at you, pulling your gaze back towards her. You nodded, even though you weren't. Her leaning in seemed to fill your nose with her smell. It was lavender, and it was overpowering.

She raised her eyebrows at you like she knew you were lying again. "Really? What're we doing, then?"

You blinked. Shit. "Uh...I don't know, sorry," you apologised, feeling somewhat sheepish. Cairo gave you a judging look, and you were starting to feel like maybe she was regretting choosing you as her partner. She sighed.

"It's fine. Do you want to maybe come over on Friday? We can work on the paper," she said, playing with her pencil. You frowned.

"I thought Winnie said there was a party on Friday."

Now Cairo looked confused. "Are you going to that?"

"I thought you were?" You questioned, trailing off. She laughed at that, like it was a funny suggestion.

"No, it's not really my scene. Winnie's the partier," she grinned. "A party animal, even."

You nodded, feeling yourself relax a little bit. "That makes sense. You're probably writing or reading instead or something."

She seemed intrigued. "Is that what you think of me? A nerd?"

"Uh..." there was a certain heat flowing towards your cheeks, and it felt like the room was a million degrees. "A little, yeah."

"Wooow!—" Her voice rose in a mocking offence.

"—No, I don't— That's not!— I—"

"You think I'm a geek."

"Yeah, only because you're always reading and stuff, so," you argued, raising your hands up. She laughed.

"So if you read, that makes you a nerd?"

"That's obviously not what I'm saying, but the normal kids just go home and watch a show or something," you shrugged. A beat of silence passed between you, and you groaned, realising your mistake and dragging your hands down your face.

"'Normal', huh?" She asked. You sent her a glare, only to find her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she smiled at you, taking great fun in making you red. Then, within an instant, as if it had been flipped like a switch, the weightless look in her eyes shifted to something far darker.

"You know," she said, and you found your heart catching in your throat. "I don't only read in my free time. I find other things to do." She was back at a whisper, leaning in towards your ear. Each enunciation reverberated in your ear drums and filled your brain with sinful ideation.

"I actually like to do things over and over. Creature of habit, really," she continued and your eyebrows rose. The classroom felt even more humid than it had before, and some sweat was already forming on your forehead. Mr. Miller stood behind his desk, and you felt hyperaware of how he kept glancing towards the both of you, his arms crossed and a deep frown on his face at the almost voyeuristic display.

The bell rang, and just as if nothing had happened, Cairo stood up, gathered her things, and walked off like she had under the bleachers.

"Wait-" You were left frozen there, watching her go out the door and down the hall. It took another ten seconds of sitting there for the spell she had cast on you again to be broken, but when it did, you shot up.

Clumsily you threw your notebook into your backpack, slinging it over your shoulder and taking off as quickly as you could. You wouldn't let Cairo flee.

She was near her locker, where you found her a few halls down. From over her shoulder, Winnie saw you coming, and sent you a friendly wave. Cairo followed her eyes, turning towards you and eyes widening. She was clearly surprised, crossing her arms over her chest as you walked right up to her and stopped.

"I have a question," you said.

"Ask away," said Cairo.

You nodded, thinking for a moment. "Why'd you pick me as your partner in this?"

She scoffed at this, uncrossing her arms and rolling her eyes like you were missing something obvious. It hadn't mattered how loud the passing crowd around you was. You heard her loud and clear, and it filled you with a sense of warmth that you hadn't felt since "fleeting" was just another word in the dictionary and not a mantra.

"Because, I think you're special," she said, only to you in the crowd of passing kids. You couldn't see Mr. Miller watching you both intently from the far wall, one arm crossed over the other.

===+++===

okay so this may or may not be a series i'm starting, but i at least know there is a part two that's already halfway done. part of what took me so long and why i've been gone for like a month has just been me agonising over every damn word. so. enjoy this bad boy ig? not that much happens in this part, but i promise the next part will be kind of crazy.

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #cairo sweet x reader #cairo sweet #miller's girl

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folkloresthings · 1 year

Text

BECAUSE I LIKED A BOY / CL16.

in which the world’s favourite pop princess becomes tangled in the life of a certain formula one driver, flipping her entire world upside down.

( charles leclerc x singer!au )

track one: lonesome. track two: fast times. track three: nonsense. track four: opposite. track five: how many things. track six: bad for business.

✩⡱ warnings: like one curse word

INSTAGRAM.

liked by oliviarodrigo, charlieputh, and 738,928 others

yourusername baby’s too pretty to be put in the corner

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landonorris BARK BARK

user mother is mothering

sza i’m so in love with you it’s silly

charles_leclerc pretty indeed

⤷ user unhinged charles spotted

⤷ user he’s making moves people!!!

lewishamilton are y’all seeing what i’m seeing

yourusername added to their story!

TWITTER.

the pre—race buzz was electric in the ferrari garage, your phone pinging with messages beckoning you to the mercedes garage on the other end of the paddock. you knew lewis wanted to see you, he’d been the one to invite you to the race in the first place, but there was something pulling you to the room filled with red. someone.

“hello again,” your smile widened across your face as charles dodged past mechanics to find you by the wall. his decorated race suit adored his lean figure, but his head was still free of his helmet, despite the clock ticking closer to when he needed to be in the car.

that godforsaken smile of his mirrored your own, knees wobbling as soon as it graced your gaze. without thinking, his arms pulled you into a hug. a friendly one, to be sure. a happy to see you, no matter how your heart yearned for another reason. the emerald in his eyes shone down at you, that same look he’d given you when you’d first met all those weeks ago backstage before your show.

and now here you were, after weeks of texts and late night calls, staring at each other through a fog of tension, waiting with bated breath. he speaks first, and you try so desperately to ignore how his gloved fingers brush your wrist when he does.

“what are you doing tonight?”

you blink, his eyes hopeful for an answer. your head shakes, shoulders shrugging, brain nagging to be an ounce cooler than you were being right now. “i don’t know. why?”

“let me take you to dinner. it’ll be my prize, if i win,” he speaks quickly, as though he needs to say it before hesitancy can change his mind. that familiar lump of nerves turns in your stomach, one you hadn’t felt in a long time. not since austin first asked you out — a feeling that had ended in catastrophe. could you face that kind of tumble again?

“charles, you have to go!” a voice nearby urges, every other driver already behind their wheels. urges him to move, and you to answer. his feet are moving backwards, slowly, but his eyes stay trained on you, awaiting your reply.

“well, you’d better win then.”

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charles_leclerc P1!!! so happy with today’s result, thanks to everyone who got me there ♥️ time to celebrate (even more)

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scuderiaferrari YES! 🍾🍾🍾

user THE THIRD PIC???

⤷ user bro thinks he’s slick

yourusername congrats again!! super duper proud 💌

⤷ user the hair in the pic looks so much like hers oml

⤷ user she literally just got out of a relationship like five minutes ago

yourusername i think i trust you enough to teach me to drive now

⤷ charles_leclerc only now? ouch, my heart ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

⤷ lewishamilton STOP FLIRTING

INSTAGRAM.

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yourusername what the fuck is patience?

view all 661,820 comments

charli_xcx damned if i know

pheobebridgers a man? 🤢🤢🤢

⤷ yourusername so true bbz

user SQUINTING to see who the guy is

⤷ user maybe it’s just a friend?? who cares

⤷ user puh lease he got her flowers

charles_leclerc nice flower arrangement

⤷ yourusername i know a sexy florist, want his # ?

user I MOVED

TWITTER.

writer’s note: they’re getting there 😭 i’m emotionally attached to this fictional couple i can’t. fyi this is just a filler to move them along there’ll be drama soon dw

#formula one #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 instagram au #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc instagram au #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #carlos sainz x reader #lando norris x reader #max verstappen x reader #lance stroll x reader #fernando alonso x reader #daniel riccardo x reader

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chloessleepystories · 7 months

Text

School Daze

Miss Schism walked into the empty lecture hall loaded down with books and papers. She scattered her desk with plans and textbooks, and sat dutifully for a long time, writing and researching, making notes, glancing at the clock frequently and increasingly fretfully. Finally, she rested her forehead on the cool desk, and whimpered.

After a few quiet minutes with her eyes closed—which didn’t help—she leaned back in her chair, wanting to cry with frustration. “There’s only a few days left before I have to give the final, and I’m not even done creating it!” she wailed to the empty room. “And there’s still so much left to do!!”

“Like what?”

She gestured to the mess before her. “I’ve got to grade the last two weeks’ worth of work, create a rubric for the final project … " She suddenly stood, and walked to the blackboard, grabbing the chalk and making frantic notes to herself. “Not to mention skimming through three months of discussion notes for questions … ”

“—planning what you’re going to wear the last day, and what debauchery you’ll get up to on vacation … ”

“—downloading and organizing and printing and planning … ”

“—dressing and undressing and squeezing and sucking … ”

“Stop!” she told the Voice, dropping the chalk in the tray, but not turning around. “I can’t—I can’t be thinking about that right now. I need to focus.”

“You certainly do need to focus,” came the Voice, which was deep, and male … and persuasive. “Focus on the tingling in your breasts, focus on how hard your nipples are getting … ”

“No … " moaned Miss Schism.

“They’re so aroused. You’re so aroused … ”

She put both hands on the chalkboard, bending over, squeezing her thighs as she felt herself getting warmer. “Please … I c-can’t … ”

“But you can. You need to. You need to focus, that’s what you said. Focus on what your body needs … Turn around.”

She whimpered an almost-protest, but pivoted to put her hands on her desk, leaning over further and scanning the empty room, the rows of bare chairs, with eyes blurred with growing lust.

“Oh my! Look at that … You weren’t very focused when you got dressed this morning, were you? I bet you haven’t even noticed what top you put on, by ‘accident.’ How sheer that blouse is. How it’s almost … invisible.”

She looked down and gasped. It was, indeed, so sheer as to show the white lace on her bra. “Oh no! I can’t be out in public like this! … At least I have a bra underneath it … ”

The unseen Voice seemed to move from one side of her to the other as it chuckled. “No you don’t.”

She looked down again as she felt her erect nipples brushing the silky fabric, swaying suddenly. “Oh no! What was I thinking!?” she gasped, covering her breasts with one arm. “This is totally, like, see-thru!”

“You weren’t thinking,” said the Voice. “You were being dumb.”

She chewed her lip, shaking her head bashfully, girlishly. The beginnings of a grin began to show. “Nuh-uh.”

“Like a dumb bimbo.”

“No I wasn’t!!” She dropped both arms to stamp a foot. “I was, like … . I mean, I am! Like, smart!”

“Much too dumb to be a teacher … ”

“Stoooop … .” she whined. “Yer mixing me up!! I gotta find something to put on before somebunny sees me!!”

She hurried to her bag beside her desk.

“It’s too late. Your whole class has seen you. Look.”

Sure enough, there they were! Every seat was filled! When did they get here??? A student in every seat, and every single one of them, boys and girls, wuz LEERING at her!!

“My goodness, what they must think of you … " said the Voice, right in her ear now. “A sheer top, and no bra … Oh and look, you forgot your skirt as well … ”

She didn’t need to look down, she FELT the scratchy tweed disappear from her thighs, and her fingertips. She watched as the boys in the front row leaned forward, their gaze growing hungrier.

“I’m having a dream, it’s a terrible, terrible dream … " she murmured.

“Nonsense!” came the Voice, but now it was coming from the doorway. Miss Schism looked, and saw an older man walking toward her, with a beaming smile, his arms out. “It’s not terrible at all … ”

“Principal Grossman!” she cried. “What a relief!”

The man was pudgy, and mostly bald, with a horseshoe of white hair. A relaxing presence, even in these circumstances. She didn’t think to cover herself, but moved toward him as if he were an oasis in the desert. “They’re all lookin at me!!” she whispered, her voice moving up the scale as if on helium.

“Poor girl,” he said tenderly. “You’re so confused. Did you think you were teaching this class? No, no, you’re the experiment.”

“I am?”

“And you’re doing very, very well,” he said, grasping her forearms reassuringly.

She beamed proudly. “Oh goody!”

He turned her, facing the students. “Such a silly girl.” He unbuttoned her blouse, stripping off the wispy material. She stood, topless, her nipples hardening, as the boys licked their lips and rubbed the crotches of their jeans. The girls uncrossed their legs, spreading their knees, revealing the lack of panties under their short skirts as they slouched in the chairs, eyes hooded with lust.

“Silly girl, you can’t be a teacher. You’re much too dumb.”

“I am?”

“Dumb and slutty,” he said into her ear, and the word “slutty” echoed through her empty head, sweeping up so many thoughts and feelings and memories. He cupped her breasts from behind, fondling them, offering them to the students. “Aren’t you, my dum-dum dolly?”

A wave of pink fluff went through her brain as he said that. And a wave of golden sparkles tingled through her body. “Uuunngghhh … .” She staggered a little. “Yes … ”

“A slutty, horny, dum-dum dolly?”

Her pussy ached with sudden need, drenching her sodden panties. He was pinching her nipples now, and tingles raced through her body, not just from his touch but from his words, his triggers … “Yes, Principal Grossman.”

“Are you sure?” he said, and his voice changed. “Look again.”

She blinked, and turned, trying to focus on the man whose hands were running over her belly, her hip, as she heard and felt the students shift hungrily in their seats.

And it wasn’t the principal at all!! He was taller, and muscular, and dark as rich chocolate!!—with shaved head and trimmed beard, but the same gentle smile …

“Coach Brickhouse!!!!”

“That’s right, little girl. And you’re my suggestible bimbo snowbunny, aren’t you?”

“Uh huh!” she grinned, and “Ohhhhhh … " She moaned as her eyelids fluttered, as the word ‘snowbunny’ stole more of her IQ points. Oh, it felt so good to let go.

The coach caressed her cheek as he hooked one dark thumb under her panties, at the hip. The other thumb slid into her slack mouth, and she sucked it eagerly, her eyes closed and her mind eclipsed. “That’s my docile, suggestible idiot,” he murmured in his rich baritone, as she sucked dutifully on his thick, black, powerful thumb. “It feels so good to drop, and obey, doesn’t it … ”

“Mmmmm … " Miss Schism, her mind delightfully fractured, leaned her blond head against his hand, mindlessly sucking, awaiting orders.

“Then why don’t you get on your knees, and show me how much you love being cockdumb.” She giggled as she dropped happily, and took his massive member in her little white hands. It filled her lips with its intoxicating meaty taste, and she stuffed it into her throat until her jaws ached with pleasure. She looked up at him with big eyes, reveling in his kind gaze as he stroked her cheek and hair with his strong hands.

“Then we’ll see how many of these nice boys and girls want to play with your body, and break your little brain with pleasure. How does that sound … Mmmmm, imagine a silly girl like you, thinking she was a teacher. You’re just a slutty bimbo airhead, aren’t you?”

She nodded happily, and kept sucking his hard, gorgeous member, her eyes rolling back and her eager cunt gushing with grateful pleasure.

***

Abigail slurped happily on her husband’s cock, humming peacefully and mindlessly to herself, two fingers stroking her sopping pussy.

Jack stroked her dark hair lovingly, and throbbed in her mouth. He glanced over at the bedside desk, strewn with term papers and textbooks.

She could finish the rubric in the morning, he knew, and still have time for everything else before finals next week. She deserved a break.

And fortunately, she’d long ago given him the tools to give it to her.

“What a good slut,” he murmured. “Look out, here comes that football player with the big dick … He’s holding your hips, getting ready to slam it into you … ”

Her eyes met his, her cheeks sunken in with sucking, and suddenly her eyes … WIDENED … and her body moved with the first thrust of the phantom cock. She squealed in pleasure, and her husband knew that meant “thank you.”

“My goodness, look at these hot co-eds who want to suck on your tits while you’re being spitroasted … ”

#mind control #classic chloe #consensual

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sleepydeprived · 8 months

Text

A Chance for Redemption

—A mysterious high school student appears out of the blue, bearing the face of the late Martha Wayne and puzzling even Gotham’s greatest detectives.

[chapter 2]

| Platonic!Yandere!Batfam x Reader

The Batcomputer hummed with activity, casting an ethereal glow on the somber faces of the collected vigilantes. Five figures stood in a semi-circle, their eyes fixed on the screen.

"It seems we have an unexpected addition." Bruce, the one who called for their presence, broke the heavy silence.

The images of the young high school student continued to linger on the screen. Bruce's gaze drifted to Damian, the youngest among all of them, whose narrowed eyes betrayed a mix of curiosity and skepticism.

"What nonsense is this, Father?" The young boy’s voice cut through the air.

Bruce spared a glance at the stoic faces of his other sons, each processing the revelation in their own way. Dick's expression held concern, and Tim seemed lost in thought.

"She is a potential blood relative, a daughter,"

Hearing Bruce’s explanation, the rest stayed in a deafening silence. Silence in which did not last long as Jason was the first to break it with a cynical smirk.

"A long-lost daughter? You sure know how to keep things interesting, Bruce."

The man in question’s jaw tightened, a hint of frustration flashing in his eyes. "This is no time for jests, Jason."

The youngest of the bunch crossed his arms. "This is preposterous. We need evidence, not some blurry images claiming to be family."

Bruce, torn between the skepticism that fueled his vigilante persona and the yearning for a connection lost in the echoes of tragedy, took a deep breath.

As the initial shock settled inside of Dick’s inner turmoil, he stepped forward, his eyes meeting Bruce's with a hint of understanding.

"Alright, what’s our next move?"

Returning his gaze to the screen where the same haunting eyes looked back at him, he answered,

“We can’t disrupt her life until we have concrete evidence.” Looking back at the faces of his sons who looked back at him expectantly, he continued, “For now, we observe.”

Through the symphony of slamming lockers and loud chatter, a figure clothed in the infamous Gotham Academy’s prestigious uniform navigated through the school halls, a mysterious aura surrounding her.

Her demeanor was an ironic mix of grace and clumsiness, her backpack swaying with each step. Unbeknownst to her, the school’s surveillance cameras tracked her every move and captured her interactions with fellow students, the footage easily accessed by those who were over taken by curiosity.

Being one of the said individuals, Damian Wayne—who fortunately goes to the same school as the said girl—observed his potential sister from a distance. His piercing gaze followed her, skepticism etched in his features.

Nothing extraordinary.

She seems normal enough. Too normal to be considered a Wayne.

As she approached her locker, Damian skillfully maneuvered through the crowd, ensuring a safe distance. He observed her interactions; the genuine smile that adorned her face, and the unintentional charm that seemed to draw people toward her.

The boy had attempted to interact with her at least once, yet couldn’t bring himself to think of a topic to talk about, as the girl was as much of a mystery as the shadows that cloaked Gotham City.

The school day continued, each passing period carrying the young girl further into a world where her identity remained a mystery, and her every move became a piece of the puzzle for those who watched in silence.

900 notes · View notes

spaceyaceface · 1 year

Text

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 :)

#sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy sebastian #hogwarts legacy mc #ominis gaunt x anne sallow #fake dating au #fluff #angst #friends to lovers #idiots in love #first kiss

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