#a drama of jealousy

[patroclusplaylist]

Dramma della gelosia (tutti i particolari in cronaca), (1970) by Ettore Scola

[gunsatthaphan]

"are you not watching the film anymore?"

[fvckw4d]

"Made various missteps and eventually disbanded for interpersonal issues" is THE funniest way to say "the cult destabilized and survivor testimony started to surface."

[lovecharmforyou]

HE WAS SO JEALOUS OF SE-MI AND I GET IT, SHE IS TOO PERFECT! And yall know how this ended…

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Misunderstandings | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

@preeyas-world my humble offering as per your request!

Words: ~4,600

Tags: Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Romance, Happy Ending

The first time you noticed it, you told yourself it was nothing.

Sebastian had always been the kind of person people were drawn to—charming, quick-witted, impossible to ignore. He had friends beyond your shared circle, people he spent time with when you weren’t around. That was fine. Healthy, even. You weren’t the type to demand his attention every waking moment, nor did you want to be.

But then there was Lillian Thornton.

At first, it was small things. A glance across the Great Hall, a study session in the library. You hadn’t thought much of it. Sebastian was friendly, and Lillian was in your year—Slytherin, well-bred, elegant in the way you weren’t. She carried herself with effortless grace, always dressed in pristine, perfectly pressed robes, always speaking in that refined, poised tone that made people listen.

You had no reason to feel threatened.

But then it became more.

It started with the little things. The moments where he was late to meet you outside class because he had gotten caught up talking to her. The times he promised he’d help you with an essay but got sidetracked and never showed up. The way his eyes lingered on her when she spoke, as if he were truly listening, when lately, he barely seemed to hear you.

At first, you tried to be rational.

Sebastian was just being himself—helpful, charismatic. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. You were overthinking.

So you brushed it off.

You ignored the slight sting when he laughed at something she said across the common room but barely reacted when you told him a story. You forced yourself to smile when he mentioned her in passing, pretended it didn’t bother you that her name kept slipping into conversations more and more. You reminded yourself that he was yours. That he loved you.

Sebastian was still affectionate. He still kissed you before class, still let his fingers skim over yours under the table at meals. He still called you love in that warm, effortless way.

But something had changed.

He was distracted.

It was in the way his attention drifted when you spoke, like he was only half-listening. In the way he was always one step behind—laughing at a joke a second too late, responding to questions with absentminded nods, forgetting things he never would have forgotten before.

You had tried to be rational. You had tried to trust him.

But doubt, once planted, was a treacherous thing.

The moment it all unraveled, you hadn’t even meant to find them.

It had been a long day. You had been tired, drained, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on you. All you had wanted was to grab a book from the library and go back to the common room. That was all.

But then you saw them.

Tucked away in a secluded corner, books spread between them, heads close together as they whispered. Lillian was laughing, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she leaned in. And Sebastian—Sebastian was smiling.

Not the polite, casual smile he gave acquaintances. The real kind. The kind that crinkled the corners of his eyes, the kind he used to reserve for you.

And then she touched his arm.

It was subtle. Barely anything at all. Just a hand resting lightly on his sleeve, her fingers curling slightly into the fabric. But what shattered you was that he didn’t move away.

You felt something crack inside you.

It wasn’t anger that hit you first—it was nausea. A hollow, gut-wrenching feeling that made it hard to breathe.

Because this—this was the moment you had been dreading. The moment your worst fears solidified into something real.

Sebastian was slipping away from you, and he didn’t even notice.

So, without a sound, you turned and left.

By the time you made it outside, the lump in your throat had tightened into something unbearable. Your legs carried you on instinct, leading you away from the castle, away from the suffocating weight pressing down on your chest.

It wasn’t until you passed a group of Ravenclaws in the courtyard hat you realized you were crying.

You could feel it now, the hot, silent tears slipping down your cheeks. The way your breath hitched every time you tried to swallow down the ache in your throat. The Ravenclaws exchanged glances as you passed, murmuring in hushed voices. One of them—a younger girl, maybe a third-year—looked at you with wide, uncertain eyes, like she wasn’t sure if she should say something.

But you didn’t care. Let them stare. Let them whisper.

Nothing they said could hurt more than this.

The lake was ahead, the water stretching out into the dark horizon, reflecting the scattered stars above. It was quiet here, far from the hum of conversation and laughter that still lingered in the castle.

This had always been your place. Your safe haven.

You sank down onto the cool earth beneath your usual tree, curling in on yourself as the weight of it all crashed over you.

It should have been such a small thing. Just a smile. A simple moment between two people studying together. Something you wouldn’t have thought twice about a few months ago. Something that shouldn’t have mattered.

But it did.

Because it wasn’t just about the smiling.

It was every small thing, every moment, every hesitation, every inch of distance that had crept in between you and Sebastian over the last few months, piling up until you collapsed under the weight of them.

You pulled your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms tightly around them as you stared out at the lake, watching the way the dark water rippled in the moonlight. The ache in your chest grew heavier with every thought that surfaced, memories stacking on top of each other, twisting into something painful.

Hadn’t things been different before? Hadn’t he been different before?

You tried to pinpoint the moment things had changed, but there wasn’t one moment—it was a slow unraveling, a series of little shifts so gradual you hadn’t noticed until now.

Like how you hadn’t been together as much lately. Not in the ways you used to be.

Sebastian had always been touchy—always slipping an arm around your shoulders, pressing absentminded kisses to the side of your head, tugging you into his lap when you were studying together in the Undercroft. he had never been able to keep his hands off of you when you were alone.

But now? Now he was too tired, too distracted, always promising later—but later never seemed to come.

And you had ignored it. You had convinced yourself it was just stress, that seventh year was demanding for both of you, that maybe you were reading too much into it. But now, as you sat by the lake, those thoughts turned into something worse.

What if it wasn’t stress at all? What if he had stopped touching you because he was touching her instead?

A shudder wracked through you, a bitter, sick feeling creeping into your stomach.

How many times had he been late to meet you for studying? For Hogsmeade trips? For dates he promised he wouldn’t forget? How many times had he made an excuse—something about Ominis, or a professor keeping him after class, or an essay he had forgotten about?

Was that all it had been? Or had he been sneaking off with her instead? Had he kissed her? Touched her? Had he pressed her against the walls of a hidden corridor, tangled his hands in her perfect curls the way he used to with you? Had he whispered the same things into her ear, the ones that used to send shivers down your spine?

The thought sent a sharp, breathless pain through your ribs, like something inside you had cracked clean through.

You had always trusted Sebastian.

Had loved him, wholly and completely, even when he made mistakes, even when he was reckless and impossible and difficult. You had always believed in him.

But now you weren’t so sure.

The thought alone made your chest cave in on itself. This was Sebastian. The boy who had sworn he’d do anything to keep you safe. The boy who used to hold you close as if he was afraid you’d disappear. The boy you loved. Trusted.

But that trust had cracks in it now, fragile and splintering under the weight of doubt.

You swallowed thickly, willing yourself to stop the spiral. To just breathe. But your thoughts wouldn’t let up, tearing through you like an open wound.

And then—

"There you are."

Sebastian’s voice cut through the quiet, and your entire body locked up. Your breath caught in your throat as you lifted your head, your heart lurching painfully.

He stood a few feet away, his brows drawn together in concern, his cloak slightly askew as if he’d rushed here. The dim glow of the moonlight cast shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his features—the sharpness of his jaw, the tension in his expression.

Sebastian took a step closer, breath slightly uneven. "I—uh—I ran into Samantha Dale. She said you looked upset, and then you weren’t in the common room, so—"

He cut himself off mid-sentence, his expression shifting as his gaze landed on your face.

His whole body tensed.

"Shit—are you crying?"

The words came out rough, raw. Almost panicked. And before you could react, he was moving toward you, closing the distance between you with quick, determined strides.

"Hey, hey—what’s wrong? Talk to me, love." His voice softened as he reached for you, hands outstretched like he was about to gather you into his arms. "Come here—"

"Stay away."

Your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, but it stopped him dead, his hands hovering in the space between you, his brows furrowing in confusion. "What?"

You swallowed hard, shifting back against the tree, every inch of you suddenly aching with exhaustion. "Just… don’t touch me."

A flicker of hurt crossed his face, barely concealed beneath the confusion. His mouth opened slightly, like he was going to argue, but then he really looked at you. At the tear tracks staining your cheeks. The way you were curled in on yourself, arms wrapped around your legs like you were trying to keep yourself from unraveling completely.

Something in his expression shifted. Slowly, he lowered his hands. "Did… did I do something?"

You let out a breathless, humorless laugh. "I don’t know, Sebastian." You met his gaze then, voice shaking. "Did you?"

His face paled slightly. "What is that supposed to mean?"

You exhaled shakily, looking back at the lake. The reflection of the stars blurred in the water, their edges rippling as a cold breeze drifted through.

"I don’t want to do this right now," you murmured, voice strained.

Sebastian hesitated, and for a brief second, you thought he might listen, but then he stepped closer again. "No. I think we need to."

You closed your eyes, swallowing the fresh wave of emotion rising in your throat. And then, in a quiet, broken voice, you asked, "Are you in love with her?"

The question hung in the air, heavier than the weight on your chest.

Sebastian’s breath caught, his entire body going rigid. "What?"

You turned to look at him, your vision blurred with tears. "Lillian." You exhaled shakily. "Are you in love with her?"

Sebastian’s face twisted into something like horror. "What the hell are you talking about?"

You laughed then, a short, bitter sound. "I saw you with her in the library, Sebastian."

He blinked, caught completely off guard. "That’s what this is about? We were studying—"

"Oh, studying?" You cut him off, voice thick with hurt. "Is that what you were doing when she touched you? When you smiled at her like that?"

Sebastian’s mouth opened, then closed again.

His silence was enough.

You let out a shaky breath, looking away. "I should have known."

"No— Sebastian stepped forward quickly, desperation lacing his voice. "No, love, it’s not like that. It’s not—"

"Then what is it like, Sebastian?" You turned back to him, your voice breaking. "Because I don’t understand. I don’t understand why you’ve been pulling away, why you don’t see me anymore, why I feel like I have to fight just to be something important to you."

Sebastian shook his head, exhaling sharply as he ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t—I don’t even know where this is coming from.”

You let out a breathless laugh, bitter and disbelieving. “You don’t know?”

His eyes flickered, hesitating. “We were just—”

“Studying, yeah, I heard you the first time.” You inhaled shakily. “That’s not the point, Sebastian. This isn’t just about what I saw tonight. This is about months of you pulling away.”

Sebastian opened his mouth, but you weren’t finished.

“At first, it was small things,” you continued, your voice thick with emotion. “You forgot my Quidditch match. No big deal, right? But then you started forgetting other things. Like our Hogsmeade plans. Like the fact that Thursdays are the one night I don’t study in the library. Like how I hate chamomile tea, and you’ve been handing me a cup of it every single morning without even thinking.”

Sebastian flinched, his lips parting slightly like he wanted to protest—but he didn’t.

“You used to see me,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Now I feel like I have to fight just to be something important to you.”

Sebastian’s face twisted, his jaw clenching. “That’s not true.”

"Then why does it feel like I’m losing you?"

Sebastian flinched. "You're not! I—I love you."

"Really? Because you don’t look at me the way you used to." Your voice cracked, but you pushed through. "You used to—Merlin, Sebastian, you used to look at me like I was the only person in the room. And now?" You shook your head, eyes burning. "Now, I see that look when you’re with her."

Sebastian’s expression twisted in terror. "That’s not—"

You inhaled shakily, forcing yourself to keep going, even as it hurt. "You used to want me, Sebastian." The words felt raw, scraped straight from the depths of your chest. "And now, we hardly ever have sex anymore. We hardly touch anymore."

Sebastian looked like you had just ripped the air straight from his lungs. "That’s not—I do want you." His voice broke slightly at the end, panicked, desperate.

You shook your head, swallowing hard. "Then why do you hesitate now?"

Sebastian’s hands clenched at his sides. "I don’t—"

"You do." Your breath hitched. "Every time we’re alone, every time I reach for you, you pull away just a little bit. I feel it." You let out a sharp breath, forcing yourself to look him in the eye. "And yet with her, you never pull away."

Sebastian went rigid, his dark eyes flashing with something sharp, something defensive.

"That’s not—"

"Don’t lie." Your voice cracked, but you didn’t back down. "I see it. Everyone sees it. She touches you, and you let her. She leans in too close, and you don’t move away. She looks at you like you belong to her, and you—" Your throat tightened. "And you just let her."

Sebastian’s entire body went rigid.

You inhaled sharply, wiping at your eyes, even though the tears kept coming. "I trusted you, Sebastian." Your voice trembled, but you held his gaze. "I told myself over and over that I was imagining things. That I was being paranoid. That you loved me, and that was enough." You swallowed hard. "But love isn’t supposed to feel like this."

Sebastian’s face crumpled, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "I do love you."

"Then why does it feel like I have to compete for you?" You shook your head, voice breaking. "You used to tell me everything. Now I don’t even know where you are half the time. I used to be the person you looked for in a crowded room, and now—" A broken breath left your lips. "Now, I feel like a ghost to you."

Sebastian sucked in a sharp breath, his face twisting into something like shock, like you had just reached inside his chest and torn something out with your bare hands.

"That’s not—" He stopped, his voice catching, and before you could stop him, he surged forward, hands cupping your face with a desperation that made your chest cave in on itself.

"You listen to me right now." His voice was rough, unsteady, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones, catching on the remnants of your tears. "I have never stopped wanting you. Never."

You inhaled sharply, your hands coming up to grip his wrists, but you didn’t pull him away.

His breath was uneven, warm against your skin. "I love you. I love you so fucking much, and I—" He shut his eyes for a moment, exhaling shakily. "I didn’t realize I was making you feel like this. I swear to you, I didn’t."

Sebastian’s hands trembled against your skin, his breath uneven as he held your face between his palms. His dark eyes were frantic, pleading, like he could hold everything together if he just held on tightly enough.

Because this wasn’t like the petty fights you had before. This wasn’t something he could just charm his way out of with a teasing smirk and a stolen kiss. This was you, looking at him like you didn’t recognize him anymore.

You swallowed, hating how small your voice sounded. "Why are we even together when it's obvious you'd rather be with her?"

Sebastian was panicking.

You saw it in the way his lips parted like he was gasping for air, in the way his hands trembled as they held your face, in the wide, frantic look in his eyes like he was watching something he loved slip through his fingers. And thhen his knees buckled, and he fell.

Fell hard.

He was on the ground before you could react, his breath ragged, his shoulders shaking. "No—no, please, love, don’t say that." His voice cracked, raw and desperate. "Don’t—don’t tell me this is it. You’re not—" His breath hitched, his grip on you tightening just slightly. "You’re not breaking up with me, are you?"

You exhaled shakily, overwhelmed, aching, your mind screaming at you to step away before this hurt even more. Sebastian didn’t let you.

"Please," he whispered, voice hoarse. "I love you. I love you so fucking much, and I am infinitely sorry for ever making you feel like I didn’t." His forehead dropped against yours, his entire body trembling. "I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you let me. I swear to you, I will."

Your throat tightened, your hands hovering over his wrists. "Sebastian…"

His grip on you was desperate. "I should have told you sooner. I should have never let it get this far."

Your body went rigid. "Told me what sooner?"

Sebastian pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, his own glassy with unshed tears. "God, love, it's... you’ve got it all wrong," he breathed, shaking his head. "I understand how it looked buut you have to believe me when I say—this isn’t what you think."

Your throat tightened. "Then explain to me what the hell this is, Sebastian. Because it looks pretty fucking clear to me."

He squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment, like he was bracing himself. Then—

"Lillian is in love with Anne."

The words hit you like a freight train. You blinked, staring at him, your mind struggling to process what he had just said. "What?"

Sebastian swallowed, nodding, his voice quieter now, but still urgent. "She’s in love with Anne. She has been for years. And Anne—" He took a shaky breath. "Anne… she likes women, too."

You stiffened.

Sebastian’s hands dropped from your face to your shoulders, his fingers tightening just slightly, grounding you. "You know what the world is like, love." His voice was barely above a whisper now. "You know how people see that, how dangerous it is for her."

Your chest tightened. "Sebastian—"

"Lillian wanted to know everything about Anne—what she liked, what made her smile, what made her laugh. She wanted to be sure before she risked everything by telling her." He let out a heavy breath. "I was helping her figure out how to do it. That’s all. That’s all it ever was and ever has been."

You stared at him, your mind reeling. Suddenly, every touch, every whispered conversation, every lingering glance between Sebastian and Lillian took on a completely different meaning.

She hadn’t been flirting with him, she had been leaning on him. The looks weren’t full of romantic affection—they were full of trust.

The physical closeness, the secret meetings, the time spent together—it wasn’t about Sebastian at all. It was about Anne.

Sebastian swallowed hard. "That’s why I spent so much time with her. That’s why we got close." He looked at you, pleading, begging you to believe him. "She... she makes me feel closer to Anne." His voice broke. "She reminds me of her."

Your lips parted, but no sound came out. You had spent months drowning in doubt, in fear, in heartbreak—when all along, the truth had been something you never could have guessed.

Your fingers curled into his cloak, gripping the fabric tightly, trying to ground yourself.

"You're not fucking with me are you?"

Sebastian’s breath hitched, his dark eyes wide, desperate, full of something too raw to be anything but real.

"No," he said, shaking his head fervently. "God, no. I would never—I could never lie to you about this."

The sincerity in his voice, in his expression, in the way his hands clutched at your shoulders like he was terrified you might disappear—it was real.

But you were still trying to wrap your mind around it.

Lillian. Anne. Everything.

Your breath came shakily, the pieces clicking together, reassembling into something that was so painfully obvious now that you had the truth.

Anne, who had never shown much interest in the boys who flirted with her. Anne, who had always held herself at a slight distance in conversations about courtship. Anne, who had never once spoken about wanting a husband.

You had assumed it was grief. That losing her parents, losing her old life, had left her uninterested in romance. But this…

You swallowed thickly, blinking back the emotions rising in your throat.

Sebastian watched you, his entire body tense, waiting, his breath uneven. "I know—I know I should have told you." His voice was hoarse. "But Lillian didn’t want anyone to know. Anne definitely didn’t want anyone to know. She’s been scared, and—"

"I get it," you said softly, the words trembling on your tongue, uneven, but true.

And you did.

Of course, you wished he had told you. Wished he had trusted you enough to let you in, to explain instead of letting you drown in your own worst thoughts. But at the same time, you understood why he hadn't.

It wasn't his secret to tell. He had been protecting Anne. Protecting Lillian. But…

"But still," you murmured, voice thick with emotion. "I just… You let me believe I was losing you." Your voice cracked slightly. "For months, Sebastian. And this still doesn’t entirely explain why you've been so... so distant."

Sebastian flinched, his gaze dropping to the ground.

You exhaled shakily, the weight of it all pressing down on you. "Because even if Lillian wasn’t what I thought, you did pull away. You did stop looking at me the way you used to. You hesitated when I touched you. You forgot me." Your voice broke, and you swallowed down the thick lump rising in your throat. "And that has nothing to do with Lillian or Anne."

Sebastian inhaled sharply, closing his eyes for a moment before dragging his hands through his hair, visibly unraveling in front of you. His chest rose and fell with each unsteady breath, like he was struggling to get the words out.

"I was scared."

You stiffened.

Sebastian let out a rough breath, shaking his head. "Not of you," he rushed to say. "Not of us. But of… of everything after this."

You blinked at him, not understanding. "After what?"

Sebastian exhaled, his jaw tightening. He looked away for a moment, then back at you. His voice was hoarse when he said, "After Hogwarts."

Your stomach twisted.

Sebastian swallowed thickly, his voice raw. "I don’t know what happens next," he admitted. "I don’t know where we go after this—what our lives look like when we leave this place. What if we… drift apart? What if life pulls us in different directions? What if—" He inhaled sharply, his fists clenching like he wanted to punch something. "What if I lose you?"

You felt your breath hitch.

Sebastian exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Part of me thought… maybe if I distanced myself now, maybe if I stopped needing you so much, it wouldn’t hurt as badly if we had to say goodbye."

You stared at him, your heart twisting. "Sebastian—"

"I thought I was preparing myself," he murmured.

You inhaled sharply, your fingers twitching at your sides. "You know your logic doesn't make any sense right?"

Sebastian let out a breathless, broken laugh, his face crumpling. "I know."

"And you do realize that pushing me away just made everything worse?"

Sebastian swallowed thickly, nodding. "Yeah, love. I’m painfully aware."

Your chest ached. There was a part of you that still wanted to be angry, still wanted to hold on to the hurt he had caused, but looking at him now—really looking at him—you saw a boy who was just as lost as you had been. Afraid. Unsure. But never unloving.

You let out a slow, unsteady breath. "You can’t do that to me again."

Sebastian’s expression shattered further,

"I won’t," he whispered, his voice raw. "I swear I won’t. I love you more than anything. I'm so sorry."

Your throat tightened, your eyes burning.

Because you believed him.

Not because he was desperate, not because he was begging, but because the way he was looking at you now—like you were everything, like you were the air in his lungs, the only thing tethering him to the world—was the way he had always looked at you before all of this.

The way he should have been looking at you all along.

You exhaled sharply, your emotions still tangled, still raw, but your body had already made its decision before your mind had caught up.

You leaned forward, and Sebastian sucked in a sharp breath, his entire body going rigid. And then, carefully, cautiously, you lifted your arms and wrapped them around his neck.

At first contact, Sebastian's arms slammed around you, pulling you against him with a desperation that knocked the breath from your lungs. His face buried into your shoulder, his body trembling against yours.

For the first time in months, it felt like home.

Sebastian exhaled sharply, his breath warm against your skin. "I love you." His voice cracked. "I love you so much, and I will spend the rest of my life proving it to you."

You swallowed hard, pressing your face into his neck. "Good," you whispered. "Because you’re going to have to."

Sebastian let out a shaky laugh, relief flooding through him, his arms tightening around you like he never wanted to let go.

And this time, you knew he wouldn’t.

[stupidvillainousposts]

Idea: Dipper and Mabel visit Gravity Falls for the summer following Weirdmageddon and start arguing about something or other, then knock over a weird device by accident that makes Stan, Ford, and McGucket return to their early/mid thirties

Long story short, the Chaos Trio need to make a device to turn themselves back to normal but keep getting distracted by the greatest weapon of all: Love. Basically everybody starts noticing that Stan and Fidds are crushing on each other... Everyone except Stan and Fidds

Ford, accusingly: You're romantically interested in my brother.

Fidds: What?! I- No- What could possibly make you think that?!

Ford, whilst glaring at Fidds: Stanley, how long did you say it takes the earth to revolve around the sun?

Stan: Oh, come on! This, again, Pointdexter??? The answer is obviously 12 hours! Why else would we only get sunlight for half a day every day?

Ford, sarcastically: Yes, obviously.

Fidds: *Smitten but Denying It* Y'know, his logic is fairly sound-

Ford, absolutely pissed: HIS LOGIC ISN'T SOUND AT ALL!

[dramashii]

Seok Ryu seeing Seung Hyo with his ex.

LOVE NEXT DOOR (2024) | Ep 5

[comatosebunny09]

She’s beautiful. And despite how much you’ve tried to hate her, you just…can’t. Understandable why Sylus fell for her charms so quickly. She’s a sweetheart. And it’s infuriating. But—

“Hey,” you interject in a low tone. Stir the contents of your glass, projecting an air of boredom as the partygoers prattle on around you.

She blinks, all bright-eyed and straight-backed in the chair across. Mouth clamps shut, the last vestiges of her story vanishing in the air. Your lips quirk. God, you want to pat her head. Shove her in your pocket for safekeeping.

You motion for her to come closer with two fingers. Angle yourself closer until your breath stirs the pretty bangs adorning her forehead.

“You’re too pretty. Too nice. But you fit him, I guess,” a little forlornness creeping into your voice. “So I’ll bite.”

You ignore how your belly gnarls and twists as you sit back. Cross your legs, banishing those green-eyed monsters poking around in your head. Blame it on the champagne you’ve consumed, making your mind all fuzzy and your stomach feel weird.

“I’ll protect you or whatever,” you mumble before dumping the final contents of your flute down your throat. Fix her with a look that leaves no room for objection after you’ve placed the glass on the table, crossing your arms.

She can do nothing but smile nervously under your gaze, fidgeting with the straps of her dress, searching the tide of partygoers for a familiar shock of white.

Of course she didn’t ask. But it’s your duty to protect what belongs to him.

Any girl of Sylus’ is an temporary ally of yours, no matter how much it pains you to see him entangled with someone who isn't you.

[fanatic-freakshow]

The moment when Wang understands Jiang is jealous

The moment when Wang understands he can have fun with that

[shootingstareon]

“You took everything from me-!”

[citronlad]

I just started reading + watching the rose of Versailles and the relationship dynamics are destroying me, oscar doesn’t need this complicated mess she needs peace and a cookie

[vigilante24ish]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Chapter 1. - Chapter 2. - Chapter 3

Chapter 4. - Chapter 5. - Chapter 6

Chapter 7. - Chapter 8. - Chapter 9

Chapter 10. - Chapter 11. - Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Word Count: 1392

Chapter 13

Your screams echoed across the clearing as you all turned to face the grave, wondering if perhaps something went wrong and a zombie Sharon was about to come for revenge.

A second hand appeared, and slowly, someone crawled their way out of the grave.

By instinct alone, Alice moved and hugged Lilia close. At the same time, Jen grabbed Teen's upper arm.

To your surprise, momentarily, for you were too focused on the crawling from the grave person; Agatha spread her hands and pushed both you and Teen behind.

A funny concept, considering you were the only one with true powers to protect the coven.

At last, after that felt like an eternity for everyone; this mysterious person managed to crawl fully out.

Getting up slowly, mud and dead lives stuck to their skin, but quickly, everyone got a good glimpse of a face.

A woman with both an attractive but also dangerous looks pushed her hair out of her face, going as far as to blow a sticky muddy strand away from her pink lips.

"Heard you guys were having a party." The woman said.

You could not help but end up staring in surprise, not because of the dramatic entrance but rather... because that person was familiar to you.

As memories were unlocked in your mind, you almost missed the moment where this newcomer extended her hand and offered a flower to Agatha.

"Surprise. My lady." She said, doing her best to sound mannered.

To the surprise of the coven, Agatha started to scream from frustration, and she even tried to claw at the new Witch.

Thankfully, Jen and Alice grabbed and held her back.

"We just summoned her."

"We need her."

In the end, Agatha freed herself from their grasp and merely started to walk down the road; leaving you all behind.

Teen was the first to rush after her, remembering the witch from the time she attacked Agatha, and he was locked in the closet.

The woman looked at all of four of you, her dark eyes resting on your tense form a little longer.

"What's up? I'm Rio." She introduced herself, not even commenting on the fact that she crawled out of a grave.

You watched as she cracked her neck once.

"So, you're a Green Witch?" Jen dared to ask, having gotten over the first shock.

"Um... Less "a" Green Witch... more" Rio suddenly changed her voice in a demonic one. "The" Green Witch." And just like that, she continued like normal. "We're supposed to walk this thing, right?"

Alice, Lilia and Jen almost jumped back at the sudden voice change; with the potions witch almost hiding behind you at the unexpected change.

You were the only one that did not react to the trick, your body tense, and your gaze locked on Rio; yet uttering no word.

You could only watch as Rio started to do a little skip walk as she followed after Agatha and Teen, already lost in her own little world.

"So, what do we think? Can we trust her?" Jen asked and looked at the witches left behind with her.

"We know nothing about her." Alice argued, earning a nod from Lilia.

"We know Agatha hates her. I'd say that goes in the pro column." Jen chuckled on her own. "Honestly, I don't know how to feel. Do I hate her? Or do I want her phone number?"

Alice nodded. "Same."

"Right?"

You let out a frustrated sigh, surprising your fellow witches and started to walk after Rio; confusing them and leaving them behind to exchange looks of uncertainty.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Unlike before, you did not all walk together.

Agatha was leading, and this time, Rio seemed to be close by. More than once, you would see her trying to annoy Agatha by entering her personal space or sending her different looks, only frustrating your lover even more.

Teen followed close behind while Jen, Lilia, Alice, and you had kept distance and followed last; making sure not to lose the others.

All this time, you had been quiet, silently glaring and narrowing your eyes at Rio; who seemed to have sense it cause you swore you caught her smirking from time to time.

You knew Rio, not as well as Agatha, but you had met before; a couple of times, spend time together as well. You did not mind that she was present but rather... the fact that she was trying to be close to Agatha.

You dug up your mind, trying to remember any memories of Agatha mentioning her, but you found none. That did not mean you did not suspect why it was never brought up.

Something deep within your guts was clawing to come out, Rio's presence agitating your magic and making it react. It was always like that, since your very first meeting but now you could not help and wonder...

Was this just because of Rio's questionable 'nature' or were you simply jealous.

It was evident that Rio and Agatha shared a past and the tension between them was not common. You were not stupid, you could see it but you still hated it.

Ironic because you had often talked to yourself about it, knowing Agatha could be with anyone the times she was away; having no need to be loyal to you.

After all, it was never clarified between the two of you what kind of relationship you had. Simple lovers? Something more?

You wondered that yourself.

Someone cleared their throat by your side and you glanced at them, realizing it was Jen who was suddenly walking little too close to you.

"So..." she started. "You went down the road before, with Agatha"

"I did" you replied, staring daggers at the two witches ahead.

"That means you know Agatha, I mean... more than us, me... you got the point. " she tried to save it, yet the message was clear to you.

"I do..." You answered, repeating the same two words again. You could feel she wished to know more, and you could feel the others looking at you, equally curious. "Almost all my life," you sighed. "We went down the Road the first time, eventually our paths separated shortly after"

You chose not to tell of the fact that the two of you had met countless times over the centuries, of how it was common for Agatha to just show up to your doorstep and you would always let her in.

You did not say of any of the other adventures you two had, even before the Road. You did not say of the sweet moments you two shared, igniting all sparkles and releasing your Darkest and most sinful desires with one another; having no shame of your preferences.

"Was she always... you know... this?" Alice asked next, preventing you from getting lost down the memory lane.

You allowed your gaze towards Agatha, who, based on the stiffness of her shoulders; was not enjoying this.

"Sort of... sometimes" you replied vaguely, unsure how much you wished to expose to the others; when you didn't even know them.

"Then why did you join the road?"

It was evident that Alice was using her police training, connecting dots, and asking the right questions.

If you were on the road before and you had no true "attachment" to Agatha, why risk your life once again? Why join this death-filled path when you clearly must have gained something since you made it to the end the first time.

You took longer to reply, and she picked it up.

"Unfinished business, that's all I will say." Without another word, you increased your pace and made it clear to the others that you would not be discussing anything else.

They simply watched you go, exchanging looks and trying to decide what they thought of you.

They did not know your name, your powers, or even affinity. They didn't know your true reasons, and honestly, your switching personality did not help much either.

Unbeknown to them, the next trials would give them all the answers they needed. If they were brave enough to face them.

Chapter 14

[wanderlust-in-my-soul]

Why... why are you doing this?

[biolumien]

Hiiii!!!! 😊👋 So I only just started Kaiju no. 8!!! New to the fandom and not a manga reader. Idk what’s going to happen in the next episode—all I know is that Hoshina better not d*e lol.

Anyways!!! Obviously I am a huge Hoshina fan/simp!!! I really like your blog and I have enjoyed your Hoshina fics!!!!!! 🥹 And since your requests are open, I wanted to know if I could perhaps make one??? 👉👈

If so, I was wondering if you could do something sort of related to your “say it!” fic??? Like where Hoshina (+ reader) somehow bumps into the ex from operations you mentioned in the fic??? And reader gets SUPERRRRR jealous (lord knows I would be especially if said ex was really beautiful and smart) and insecure. Maybe reader acts a bit distant/moody after the encounter but once Hoshina realizes what’s up he immediately reassures reader and let’s them know how much he loves/cares for them???

Sorry if this request is weird or doesn’t make sense to you, I’ve honestly just been thinking about a similar scenario ever since reading that fic of yours 😭😭 anyways thank you so much for your time 🫶❤️ and please never stop writing, your fics are beautiful 💖💕

notes: hihi; thank you so much for your request; i hope that this is okay; you sent this in before the most recent episode but hoshina's a fairly important character to the story of kaiju no 8 overall so he'll be alright... i combined this with a slightly different ask which also surrounded jealousy but with okonogi; it's very briefly mentioned though.

jealousy as the crux

soshiro hoshina x gn!reader no warnings should apply, i think. wc: 837

hoshina always maintained rather easy conversation with a lot of people—friendly conversation that sometimes got the better of your self esteem when he teasingly doted on okonogi or otherwise. 

you’d tried not to bring it up, to not bother him—because envy and jealousy like that was an ugly emotion, of course. it wouldn’t be right to burden hoshina with them–mostly because you weren’t even sure how he’d react. he was plenty envious on his own, you think–key point on think. but it might have been for more reasonable things, surely. like the envious desire to become stronger, or something noble like that.

nothing quite like yours. 

but stumbling on hoshina’s ex was never on your list of priorities at all. 

so the fact that she was here—was her name amaya?—only made you more uncomfortable. you barely knew anything about her other than the fact that okonogi spoke her name with strained reverence, cautious to never bring it up around hoshina. hoshina seemed to be uncaring of it all, even so–as if he couldn’t be bothered to remember. 

she was smoking indoors, her eyes tired and weary. 

hoshina didn’t seem to tense up when talking to her, which strangely irked you more. 

“hoshina,” amaya says, approaching hoshina with a raised eyebrow. she pats his shoulder, and he chuckles.

“you look well,” hoshina murmurs. 

“hm. well as i’ll ever be.” her eyes flit to you, her eyes narrowing. you felt uncomfortable under her gaze, as if you were some unique kind of insect to be pinned up in a collection. “this your new partner? they’re cute.”

“hm?” hoshina laughs. “aren’t they?”

the compliment doesn’t feel good, somehow, as it usually does.

“thought you said you wouldn’t date again,” amaya says, dusting off some ash off the tip of her cigarette, taking another breath before blowing it away from the two of you. “not that we really were.” she snorts. “you were too much of a coward last time.”

“hey,” hoshina says, sounding mock-hurt. “i figured we were better off as friends.”

“hm.” amaya exhales. “whatever you say.”

“i wish you’d sound more enthusiastic about this,” hoshina retorts, laughing again. it’s the same laugh he has when he talks to okonogi, that same doting laughter–but it also wasn’t anything special. it was the same kind of laughter he had when he talked to you, though perhaps it was tinged with more fondness when he spoke to you.

if there was anything hoshina was, it might’ve just been annoyingly consistent.

"it's hard to be enthusiastic surrounding you. your sarcastic energy exhausts me," amaya drawls.

you turn away from the conversation at this point–and yet you can feel amaya staring daggers into the back of your head. 

“i’ll let the two of you finish this up,” you say, and your voice sounds far more obviously strained than you’d like for it to be. 

hoshina was allowed to talk to other people. but why did amaya irk you so much? was it just the irreverent way she spoke, the way she seemed to be watching you so intently for no reason? what the hell was her problem? as you stormed off, your footsteps grew angrier as you continued to mull over it. no, seriously! what was her problem? 

but what was yours, being jealous in the first place? you were being irrational–worried because you wanted hoshina’s attention for yourself but of course it wasn’t right to worry this badly about it to the point that envy would turn your stomach like this, create the brittling sensation in your heart. it wasn’t right, and the fact that you knew it wasn’t right made the whirling sense of bad in you feel worse.

you rub your face roughly, trying to shock yourself into trying to just be fucking normal.

“hey.”

hoshina’s voice is quiet when you turn around, and his face is contemplative, brows furrowed in worry.

“are you done? talking to amaya?” you ask.

“for now,” he says. his eyes focus on your face, concerned now. “are you okay?”

“i’m…”

the words die in your throat.

“i don’t want to be jealous,” you say weakly. “of whatever’s going on. but, i–”

hoshina’s hands are on your face before you can even finish your sentence, squishing your cheeks together.

“mm, i see.” hoshina blinks, humming. “why didn’t you just say so earlier?”

you blink.

“you’re not… mad?” you ask.

“mad?” hoshina raises an eyebrow, cocking his head. it looks cute. “should i be?”

“no,” you say. “i–or, i don’t know. maybe? yes?”

“which is it?” hoshina asks, a teasing smile on his face before his brow furrows a bit. “if you would have just told me earlier i could have easily just told you that there’s nothing going on between me and anyone else but you. i chose you. don’t forget that, okay?”

you blink.

“and i love you,” hoshina says, completely straightforwardly, with sure honesty. “don’t forget that.”

you nod, and he squeezes your face, leaning in to kiss you on the lips.

[oopsalltropes]

🌻: would u be my faen?

🥑:👀

mc: we can, it’s fine…

🌻: oh, really? 😂😂

joong strong asf i would’ve crash tf out 😭😭😭

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Playing for Keeps | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Chapter 2

 ← Previous Chapter Next Chapter →

Words: ~5,300

Tags: Modern AU, Reader Insert, Seventh Year, Female MC, No Y/N, Slytherin MC, Enemies to Lovers, Trope-y, Slow Burn, Humor, Coming of Age, High School Drama

The faint light of dawn filtered through the emerald curtains of your bed in the Slytherin dormitory, casting muted shadows across the stone walls. You blinked, disoriented for a moment before remembering: Hogwarts. Your first night in Slytherin had been fine—overwhelming, but manageable.

The dormitory was more extravagant than expected, its arched ceilings and serpentine décor exuding an eerie elegance. The soft green glow from the enchanted windows overlooking the Black Lake gave the room an otherworldly atmosphere you were still adjusting to. Thankfully, you already had Imelda, whose blunt humor and confidence were comforting, as well as Grace and Nerida, who’d stood by you earlier when Sebastian had been insufferable.

Of course, there were others.

Violet McDowell introduced herself first, her polished demeanor and neatly tied hair making it clear she came from an old wizarding family. “So, what’s Beauxbatons really like? Is it as uptight as everyone says?” she asked, her tone almost challenging.

Before you could respond, a petite girl with chin-length curls and bright eyes chimed in. “I’ve heard their students dance everywhere instead of walking. Is that true?” Clara Vane, bubbly and chatty, seemed more interested in myths about Beauxbatons than the actual answer.

Ethel Prescott, quieter but no less curious, had glanced up from her spellbook just long enough to add, “Do they really care that much about posture, or is that just Witch Weekly nonsense?”

The questions came in waves: Was perfect penmanship enforced? Could you actually speak French? Croissants or pumpkin pasties?

Later, the common room was no less daunting. More Slytherins introduced themselves, their names and faces blending together in a blur: Marcus Flint, Ava Vaisey, Natalia Gardner, Quincy Lloyd. Each seemed more self-assured than the last.

Still, you were grateful for Imelda and Ominis. Imelda’s sharp wit and unapologetic presence acted as a shield, while Ominis’s smooth interjections subtly steered conversations away from anything too intrusive. Between them, the chaos of your first night felt just a little less overwhelming.

You were thankful they were both already at the table when you entered The Great Hall for breakfast, the hum of conversation mingling with the clatter of silverware. You slid into the seat beside Imelda, who was already halfway through a plate of toast and bacon.

“You look like you didn’t sleep,” she observed, not bothering to pause mid-bite.

“Thanks for the reassurance,” you said dryly, pouring yourself a cup of tea. “I’m fine. Just adjusting.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it,” Imelda said with a shrug. “Or you won’t, and you’ll spend the whole year complaining. Either way, you’ll survive.”

Your lips twitched in reluctant amusement.

Across the table, Ominis glanced up from his copy of The Daily Prophet. “First class is Defense Against the Dark Arts,” he said, his tone polite but matter-of-fact. “It’s with Professor Hecat. She can be... something.”

“Something?” you asked, curious.

“You’ll see,” Ominis replied cryptically before turning back to his paper.

Imelda grinned, clearly enjoying your curiosity. “Hecat’s a hardass,” she said. “But if you’re good, she’ll respect you. If you’re bad, well…” She trailed off with a wicked smirk.

“Sounds promising,” you muttered, taking a sip of tea.

Imelda shrugged, popping a piece of bacon into her mouth. “Hecat doesn’t coddle, that’s for sure. You’ll either love her or hate her by the end of the week. No in-between.”

Ominis lowered his paper slightly, his pale eyes flicking toward you. “She values precision and discipline. If you’ve got those, you’ll manage.”

“Good to know,” you said, feeling a small flicker of relief. If there was one thing Beauxbatons had drilled into its students, it was discipline. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Imelda tilted her head, studying you as if trying to gauge your confidence. “You’ll be fine,” she said finally, nudging your arm. “Just don’t let her catch you daydreaming or slacking off. She’s got eyes like a hawk.”

“Duly noted,” you replied, though your thoughts were already wandering as your gaze drifted across the Great Hall.

The morning sunlight streamed through the enchanted ceiling, casting warm golden hues over the long tables and filling the room with an energy that felt almost tangible. Conversations ebbed and flowed, bursts of laughter punctuating the steady hum of activity. You spotted a few familiar faces at the Slytherin table, but there were dozens more you didn’t recognize, their faces blurring together in a sea of green and silver robes.

Your eyes swept across the other tables, where students from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff mingled in their own lively clusters. The sheer number of them was overwhelming. After six years at Beauxbatons, where you’d known nearly everyone by name, Hogwarts felt like an endless sea of unfamiliar faces, each with their own stories and alliances. It left you feeling adrift, like a visitor who hadn’t quite found her footing.

And then, across the room, your gaze caught on a familiar shock of red hair.

Garreth Weasley sat at the Gryffindor table, his easy grin lighting up his freckled face as he animatedly recounted a story. The girls beside him—Cressida among them—listened with rapt attention, laughing at his punchlines. He leaned in closer, hands gesturing broadly, clearly basking in the attention.

To his left, Leander Prewett lounged in stark contrast, his chair tipped back at a perfect angle that somehow didn’t upset the impeccable press of his robes. Not a crease marred the fabric, and his hair, combed with meticulous precision, caught the light as if it had been styled moments ago. He sipped casually from his goblet, his gaze flicking toward Garreth now and then, a smirk playing at his lips like he was waiting for just the right moment to interrupt—or outshine—the scene.

When Leander’s eyes landed on you, the smirk shifted, softening into something warmer, more playful. He tilted his goblet in your direction—a subtle gesture of acknowledgment—before turning back to Garreth, leaning closer like the two were conspiring about something.

Imelda, ever observant, caught the exchange and smirked. “Looks like Prewett’s already taken a shine to you.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks and quickly looked down at your tea. “I doubt it,” you said, trying to sound dismissive. “Bu um… Am I allowed to go over there, or... is there some kind of unwritten rule about Slytherins and Gryffindors fraternizing?”

Imelda chuckled, leaning back in her seat with an air of amusement. “Allowed? It’s not like you’re sneaking into their common room. Unless it’s a formal meal, you can sit wherever you want, Chouette.”

Ominis lowered his paper slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching with a faint smile. “The rivalry is overstated,” he said smoothly. “Mostly about Quidditch and family legacies. It’s not as though there’s a ban friendship and conversation between houses.”

“Conversation, no,” Imelda added with a smirk. “But someone might throw a roll at you if you bring up Quidditch stats. Just don’t start a fight over breakfast.”

“So… you wouldn’t mind if I went to say hi?” you asked cautiously, your fingers fidgeting with the handle of your teacup.

Imelda waved a hand lazily. “Why would we care? Go on. Socialize.”

Ominis tilted his head, the faintest flicker of a smirk tugging at his lips. “But do be careful. If Garreth ropes you into one of his brilliant ideas, you’ll end up spending your first class in the hospital wing.”

Imelda snickered at that, but you ignored her, carefully picking up your tea and rising from your seat. With a small nod of acknowledgment to the pair, you turned toward the Gryffindor table, your heart beating a little faster as you crossed the room.

“Hi,” you said, your voice slightly breathless as you stopped near the edge of the Gryffindor group.

Garreth’s head shot up, his freckled face breaking into an immediate grin. “Chouette! Fancy seeing you over here.”

The girls beside him looked up as well. Cressida smiled warmly, scooting over to make room. “Garreth mentioned you,” she said kindly. “Join us!"

“I’m Natty,” The other girl added, her lilting accent kind. “It’s lovely to meet you. Sit down!”

You hesitated, glancing briefly at Leander sitting across from them. He offered you a polite, easy smile.

“I’m Leander Prewett,” he said, his voice smooth as he extended a hand. “You must be the famous Chouette.”

The nickname coming from a stranger made you falter for a moment, but his expression was open and friendly. You shook his hand briefly. “That’s me,” you said, sliding onto the bench next to Cressida. “Nice to meet you, Leander.”

“Likewise,” he said, leaning back slightly. “Weasley’s been talking about you nonstop since last night.”

“Really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you turned to Garreth.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Garreth said with a laugh, spreading his hands in mock defense. “After Natty, you're the only other new student we've ever had in our year.”

“It’s true,” Leander chimed in, leaning back slightly with an easy grin. “You’re something of a novelty, Chouette. Fresh blood in a group that’s been together since we were eleven? Naturally, everyone’s curious.”

“Curious, sure,” Natty said with a smirk, her tone teasing as she glanced at Leander. “Some more than others.”

Leander shot her a playful glare, his grin unwavering. “I’m just being friendly.”

“Right,” Cressida said, dragging the word out as she exchanged a knowing look with Natty. “Friendly.”

You felt your cheeks warm as the group’s attention lingered on you, and you quickly looked down at your teacup. “I didn’t realize I was such a big deal.”

“Modest, too,” Garreth said, grinning. “Anyway, don’t worry. Hogwarts has a way of making people feel right at home—sometimes a little too much.”

Cressida nodded, her expression softening. “Give it a few weeks, and it’ll be like you’ve always been here.”

“Hopefully,” you said, smiling faintly. The warmth in their words eased some of the tension in your chest, though the weight of being the new face in a tightly knit group still lingered at the edges of your mind.

“Chouette is such an interesting nickname," Natty said, turning to you with a curious expression. "Where does it come from?”

“Oh,” you you laughed awkwardly. “It’s something Imelda started calling me when we were kids. I wrote an essay about owls when I was in a Muggle primary school because I was fascinated by wizard post... she thought it was hilarious, so the name stuck.”

“That’s adorable,” Cressida said with a laugh. “Better than some of the nicknames people come up with around here.”

“Agreed,” Leander said, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he grinned. “It suits you.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks again, and you quickly turned to Natty. “Are you all taking Defense Against the Dark Arts this morning?”

Natty nodded. “We are. First period.”

Relief flooded you at the idea of not having to navigate the castle alone. “That’s good to hear.”

“Stick with us,” Leander said, his smile easy. “We’ll make sure you don’t get lost—or end up in detention.”

As you sipped the last of your tea, your thoughts began to wander toward Defense Against the Dark Arts. You, of course, had six years of class under your belt from Beauxbatons, but it had always been carefully structured and precise, with students practicing spells on enchanted dummies or theoretical exercises. Actual dueling had been rare, restricted to the secret dueling association you’d been fortunate enough to join during your later years.

Would Hogwarts’ approach be different? You hoped so. Everything about this place felt rawer, less polished than Beauxbatons, and you hoped that extended to its curriculum.

The trek to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was brisk, the corridors of Hogwarts teeming with students. You kept close to Garreth, Natty, and Cressida, your eyes darting around as you tried to memorize the layout. The castle was as sprawling and maze-like as you’d expected, every turn revealing another staircase, corridor, or portrait that moved just enough to throw off your sense of direction.

“It’s like a labyrinth,” you muttered under your breath, glancing up at a painting of a knight who waved enthusiastically as you passed. “How does anyone find their way around here?”

“You don’t,” Garreth said with a grin, leading the group confidently down a corridor. “Not at first, anyway. You’ll get lost a few times, end up in a secret passage or two, maybe even a broom cupboard...”

“Reassuring,” you said dryly, though his cheerfulness was infectious.

Natty smiled, walking alongside you. “The trick is to remember key landmarks,” she offered helpfully.

Cressida chimed in, “And never trust Peeves to give you directions.”

You nodded, trying to take mental notes, but the sheer size of the castle was overwhelming. You were grateful to have them guiding you, especially as you climbed a narrow spiral staircase that seemed to stretch endlessly upward. By the time you reached the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, your legs were burning, and you made a mental note to pace yourself better in the future.

The classroom itself was impressive. Rows of desks were arranged in neat lines, and tall windows let in streams of golden light, illuminating shelves filled with spellbooks, artifacts, and jars of peculiar ingredients and specimens. A faint hum of magic seemed to linger in the air, subtle but unmistakable.

Professor Hecat was already at the front of the room, her presence commanding as she surveyed the students with sharp, hawkish eyes. There was an air of expectation about her, the kind that made you straighten in your seat without thinking.

Garreth nudged you lightly as you slid into a spot near the middle of the room. “This is going to be fun,” he whispered, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips.

You raised an eyebrow. “Fun?”

“Trust me,” he said, leaning back in his chair, his voice conspiratorial. “First class with Hecat is always good. You’ll see.”

Natty and Cressida sat nearby, offering encouraging smiles as the last of the students filed in. Before you could settle completely, your gaze was drawn to the back of the room where Sebastian sauntered in just before the door swung shut. His tie hung loose around his neck, and his posture was as relaxed as ever, though his sharp brown eyes flicked across the room like he was sizing everyone up. He slid into a seat near the back with the other Slytherins—Ominis and Imelda among them—and leaned back in his chair as though the classroom belonged to him.

You couldn’t help but notice the brief look exchanged between Sebastian and Leander as the latter slid into the seat behind you. It was subtle but unmistakable—the narrowing of Sebastian’s eyes and the sharp tilt of Leander’s head, his easy grin firmly in place but carrying a faint edge, almost like a challenge. The tension between them hung in the air, unspoken but palpable.

Your thoughts drifted to the carriage ride with Imelda the day before. Sebastian Sallow—Hogwarts’ most persistent heartbreak. Next to Leander Prewett, of course.

The faint smile that tugged at your lips was involuntary. Beauxbatons had its own version of this rivalry—Étienne, the effortlessly charming Quidditch captain, and Hugo, the razor-sharp dueling star. The two had been locked in a constant battle, always trying to outshine one another in accolades and romantic flings. It had been amusing to watch from the sidelines, though exhausting to imagine being caught in the crossfire.

Now, watching Leander and Sebastian, the similarities were uncanny.

Professor Hecat stepped forward, her voice cutting through the room like a whip and breaking you out of your thoughts. “Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts,” she said, her tone clipped and no-nonsense. “If you’re expecting an easy year, I suggest you rethink your priorities. This class is not for the faint of heart or the lazy. You will be tested, challenged, and—if you work hard—rewarded.”

The room was silent, every student sitting up a little straighter under her piercing gaze.

“Today,” she continued, pacing slowly, “we will begin with a practical demonstration. Theory has its place, but to kick off the semester, you will learn by doing. Wands out.”

There was a collective rustling as everyone reached for their wands. Your pulse quickened as you gripped yours tightly, the weight familiar and reassuring in your hand. Garreth was right. This would be good; it was the moment you’d been hoping for. Real practice, real dueling, not just theory or practice dummies.

Professor Hecat’s sharp eyes swept the room, her gaze lingering on each student as if she could see straight into their thoughts. When her eyes landed on you, they narrowed slightly, a spark of curiosity flickering in their depths.

“You,” she said sharply, pointing her wand in your direction. “Miss Beauxbatons.”

You blinked, startled at being addressed so directly. “Yes, Professor?”

“I’d like to see what you can do,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Let’s get a sense of where you stand in comparison to the rest of the class.”

The room murmured softly, a ripple of interest running through the students. Garreth shot you an encouraging grin, but you could feel the weight of every eye on you as you stood.

Professor Hecat flicked her wand, and the room transformed in an instant. Desks slid to the edges of the room, creating an open space in the center. The floor shimmered briefly before solidifying into a raised dueling platform.

You climbed onto it, your wand feeling heavier than usual in your hand. The hum of magic in the room seemed louder now, or maybe it was just the pounding of your heart.

“Now,” Hecat said, turning to the back of the room, “we’ll need someone to test her mettle.”

You had a sinking feeling you knew exactly who she was going to call on. Mister Duelling Prodigy himself.

“Mr. Sallow?"

Sebastian, who had been lounging in his chair with all the grace of a cat stretched in the sun, straightened slightly. His expression shifted from mild boredom to faint interest as he stood and strolled toward the platform with a slow, deliberate gait.

The room erupted into whispers, a mix of excitement and curiosity rippling through the class. It was clear this wasn’t the first time Sebastian had been called upon for a demonstration, and judging by the looks on his classmates’ faces, he had a reputation to back up his arrogance.

You shifted slightly, your grip tightening on your wand. The platform suddenly felt much smaller as Sebastian turned his attention to you, his brown eyes sharp and assessing. His smirk widened just enough to set your teeth on edge.

“Try to keep up," he said lightly, his tone almost teasing.

You could feel the weight of the class’s collective attention pressing down on you, their excitement palpable. He was clearly used to this—being the center of attention, being the best.

But you had something to prove.

Professor Hecat stepped between you, her voice cutting through the whispers like a blade. “The goal is to disarm your opponent. No spells beyond fifth-year curriculum, no excessive force. Do I make myself clear?”

“Bien sûr,” you said firmly, your heart pounding with a mix of nerves and determination.

Sebastian gave a lazy nod, his smirk never faltering. “Crystal.”

Hecat stepped back, raising her wand. “Bow.”

You both dipped into formal bows, though Sebastian’s was laced with a mocking flourish that made your jaw tighten. As you straightened, his wand was already at the ready.

“Begin!” Hecat commanded, and the duel was on.

Sebastian struck first, quick and confident, his Expelliarmus streaking toward you like a red arrow. You twisted your wrist, deflecting it with a sharp Protego, the spell rebounding harmlessly into the air.

“Not bad,” he said, moving fluidly into a Flipendo, the knockback jinx aimed squarely at your chest. You sidestepped, countering with a precise Stupefy that forced him to block with his own Protego.

The spells came fast and relentless, the platform crackling with magic as the duel intensified. Sebastian was good—no, he was excellent. His movements were smooth and calculated, each spell flowing seamlessly into the next. He pressed the offensive, forcing you to rely on quick reflexes and defensive spells to hold your ground.

But he wasn’t the only one who’d mastered his spellwork.

You quickly found your rhythm, slipping into the familiar flow of a duel. At Beauxbatons, the secret dueling association had taught you to think two steps ahead, to anticipate your opponent’s moves and exploit their weaknesses. And Sebastian, for all his skill, had one glaring flaw—his arrogance.

He expected you to falter, to stay on the defensive. So you didn’t.

A well-timed Depulso sent him skidding back, his balance momentarily compromised. Seizing the opening, you cast Arresto Momentum, slowing him just enough to fire off a rapid Stupefy. He blocked it with a grunt, his smirk slipping as he realized you weren’t just keeping up—you were pushing him.

The class murmured in astonishment as the duel raged on. You could feel their energy feeding into yours, the thrill of the challenge sharpening your focus. Sebastian’s smirk was gone now, replaced by a look of concentration, his brown eyes narrowing as he adjusted his strategy.

“You’re full of surprises, Chouette” he said, his voice slightly breathless as he dodged a Rictusempra.

“And you’re full of yourself,” you shot back, firing a precise hex that grazed his shoulder.

He retaliated with a powerful Incendio, the flames licking dangerously close, but you countered with a quick Aguamenti, extinguishing them mid-air. The crowd erupted into cheers at the display, their excitement fueling the competitive fire burning in your chest.

Sebastian lunged forward, attempting another Flipendo, but you deflected it, your wand moving like an extension of your arm. With a sharp flick, you cast Expelliarmus again, putting every ounce of precision into the spell.

This time, it hit its mark.

Sebastian’s wand flew from his hand, spiraling through the air with a sharp twirl. Without thinking, you reached out and caught it mid-flight. The room erupted into cheers and gasps, the sound crashing over you like a wave as you stood there, both wands in hand.

Sebastian froze, his expression flickering between disbelief and something far more reluctant. His chest rose and fell with deep breaths, his sharp brown eyes locked onto you. The smirk he so often wore was nowhere to be seen.

For a moment, you simply stared at each other, the hum of victory vibrating in your veins.

"Holy shit," Imelda’s voice cut through the cheers and murmurs, loud enough to carry across the room. “Sebastian just lost a duel.”

The words seemed to ripple through the crowd, and the excited murmuring grew louder. Students leaned toward each other, exchanging wide-eyed whispers, their gazes darting between you and Sebastian.

“Has that ever happened?” someone asked.

“No way,” another voice replied. “Sallow’s supposed to be the best in our year.”

“Well, not anymore,” a Hufflepuff piped up, her tone equal parts amused and impressed.

Sebastian didn’t move for a long moment, his gaze fixed on you as though trying to reconcile what had just happened. Slowly, he extended his hand, his expression shifting to something you couldn’t quite place.

You stepped forward and handed Sebastian his wand, your fingers brushing briefly against his as you leaned in, your voice low but clear. “Try and keep up next time.”

The words hung in the air and Sebastian’s frown deepened. For a moment, you thought he might fire back a retort, but instead, he closed his fingers around his wand, his jaw tight as he stepped off the platform, his shoulders stiff.

The room was still buzzing with chatter as Professor Hecat raised her voice, attempting to restore order. “Enough,” she barked, her sharp tone cutting through the noise. “This is a classroom, not the Quidditch pitch. Pair up and prepare to spar. I expect focus, not theatrics. Otherwise, I'll have to read for the rest of class."

The class scrambled to comply, but the energy in the room was electric, the whispers continuing in hushed tones. You stepped off the platform, the adrenaline still thrumming through your veins, and made your way toward Imelda and Ominis.

Imelda was grinning from ear to ear, her expression equal parts amused and impressed. “Well, look at you,” she said, nudging your arm. “First day, and you’ve already knocked Sallow down a peg. That’s one for the history books.”

Ominis, standing beside her, tilted his head in your direction. “I’ve never seen another student best him in a duel,” he said evenly, though there was a note of disbelief in his tone. “Not once.”

You shrugged, trying to play it off as casually as possible, though your cheeks were still warm from the attention. “He’s good,” you admitted. “Really good. But not good enough.”

Imelda laughed. “Oh, he’s never going to live this down. You’ve officially unseated the king of dueling.”

Before you could respond, several students began approaching, their eagerness evident as they jostled to catch your attention.

“That was incredible,” one Ravenclaw boy said, his blue robes swishing as he stepped forward. “Would you mind partnering with me for practice?”

“Partner with me!” another Hufflepuff chimed in, her cheeks flushed with excitement. “I want to learn how you pulled off that Arresto Momentum combo.”

“I called dibs first,” a Gryffindor interjected, earning a glare from the others.

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden influx of attention as Imelda smirked, crossing her arms. “Looks like you’re in demand, Chouette.”

Ominis inclined his head, his tone dry. “If I were you, I’d choose carefully. Some of these students are less… coordinated than others.”

Professor Hecat clapped her hands again, her gaze sweeping over the crowd. “If you’ve found a partner, take your positions. If not, you’ll be paired randomly.”

You glanced around at the eager faces vying for your attention, but your gaze ultimately landed on Ominis. “Would you like to pair up?” you asked, keeping your tone casual but hopeful.

Imelda let out an exaggerated gasp, her hand flying to her chest in mock offense. “What’s this? You’re skipping over your oldest friend?”

You shot her an amused look. “No offense, Imelda, but you’ve always been better on a broom than in a duel.”

Imelda laughed, clearly not taking it personally. “Fair point,” she said with a grin. “I guess I’ll go find someone who can appreciate my ‘less polished’ technique.”

Ominis quirked an eyebrow in your direction, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Are you sure? I’m certainly not as talented as you and... I'm not exactly flashy.”

“That’s perfect,” you replied, your voice low enough for only him to hear. “I’ve had enough theatrics for one day. Besides, I get the feeling you’re more talented than you let on.”

His smirk widened slightly as he inclined his head. “Well then, I'd be happy to partner up.”

Together, you stepped into the center of the room, finding a spot to practice. Unlike the duel with Sebastian, there was no buzzing anticipation from the class or weighty pressure hanging in the air. This was practice—a chance to focus, to refine.

As you anticipated, Ominis moved with deliberate precision, each spell measured and exact. You quickly fell into a steady rhythm with him, the exchange of spells flowing smoothly. There was no animosity, no urge to win—just the shared goal of improvement, and it was almost relaxing, except for the occasional awareness of being watched.

You could feel Sebastian’s eyes on you.

Though you didn’t look in his direction, the weight of his gaze was impossible to ignore, like a smoldering ember pressing against your back.

You hardly noticed how much time had passed until Professor Hecat called out, her voice sharp and commanding, “That’s enough for today. Well done, everyone. You’re dismissed.”

The room filled with the clatter of students packing their bags and murmuring amongst themselves, the electric energy of the earlier duel still lingering. You lowered your wand, offering Ominis a small smile. “Thanks for pairing up with me,” you said, genuinely appreciative.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, his tone warm but composed. "Perhaps we can do it again next time we have duelling practice."

Imelda sauntered over, slinging her bag over one shoulder. “So, Chouette, are you planning to take over the whole school, or just Defense Against the Dark Arts? Because at this rate, you’re going to have everyone eating out of your hand.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I’m just trying to survive my first week, Mel.”

The two of you began making your way toward the door, the noise of the dispersing class surrounding you. You were almost at the exit when a voice cut through the chatter.

“Wait.”

You turned to see Sebastian standing a few steps behind you, his hands shoved into his robe pockets, his expression carefully neutral.

Imelda raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of you. “This should be good,” she muttered under her breath, crossing her arms as she leaned casually against the doorframe.

He ignored her, keeping his attention fixed on you. "Has anyone told you about Crossed Wands yet?”

Your eyebrows lifted slightly. “No.”

“It’s a dueling club,” he said, his smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth just enough to feel like a challenge. “Unofficial, but it’s where the best duelists go to push themselves. If you’re looking for more of what you got today, it’s the place to be.”

You hummed noncommittally, tilting your head as if weighing his words. “And I suppose you’re the reigning champion?”

His smirk deepened, leaning fully into his usual arrogance. “Naturally.”

Imelda scoffed from where she stood beside you, arms crossed. “And yet, someone just knocked you off your throne.”

Sebastian shot her a look, but it lacked his usual bite, as though he couldn’t be bothered to engage. His gaze returned to you, a flicker of challenge in his eyes. “Well, not officially,” he said, his smirk tugging wider. “But I’m always looking for a good challenge. If you’re interested, introduce yourself to Lucan Brattleby in Gryffindor. He runs the club. Just tell him I sent you.”

You raised an eyebrow, studying him carefully. “I’ll think about it."

Sebastian nodded once before turning back toward the remaining students, his usual self-assured air firmly in place. Imelda wasted no time tugging on your arm, leading you out the door with a grin tugging at her lips.

As soon as you were out in the corridor, she let out a low chuckle. “Well, well. It seems Sallow likes you, after all. You've been here a day and the school's most coveted guys are all over you.”

You scoffed, glancing at her like she’d grown a second head. “Come on, Mel. Get real.”

“I'm serious,” she said, her grin widening. "Seb’s definitely interested. Did you see the way he kept looking at you?”

“I don’t care how he was looking at me,” you shot back, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “Within five minutes of meeting him, he insulted me. I’m not holding my breath for some big redemption arc.”

Imelda raised her hands in mock surrender, though the mischievous glint in her eyes made it clear she wasn’t dropping the topic anytime soon. She opened her mouth to retort, but you cut her off with a shake of your head, your tone firm and exasperated.

“Believe whatever you want,” you said, “but I have zero interest in trying to figure out what’s going on in his head. I’m here to focus on school, not Sebastian Sallow.”

“Alright, whatever you say,” Imelda replied, her grin still firmly in place. “But don’t come crying to me when he’s suddenly dueling other guys for your honor.”

“That’s not happening,” you said flatly, quickening your pace to move ahead of her. “End of story.”

Imelda trailed after you, her smirk firmly in place but, for once, choosing to keep her thoughts to herself. For now. Instead, she focused on guiding you through Hogwarts’ maze-like corridor.

Sebastian Sallow might have everyone else’s attention, but as far as you were concerned, he could keep it. You had far more pressing matters to focus on—like making it through your first day unscathed.

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