#next part most likely this weekend and that will be that!

[xinganhao]

✏️ seatmates joshua x reader.

prompt: "we sit next to each other every day, i lend you pencils, you share snacks with me, people are assuming we’re a couple, let’s go with that." ✶ part of my svt university milestone event

⤿ fluff, slight miscommunication, joshua is whipped, jeongcheol [if u squint!]. more content under the cut. ♡⸝⸝ prompt from anon!

It's not looking like a good start of the week for Seungcheol.

He had an insane bender the night before. He missed the morning bus to school and ended up walking the whole two-kilometer way. And now, the not-quite-a-couple duo who sat in front of him at class was back on their bullshit again.

With his fingers pressed to his temple, Seungcheol watches warily as the starry-eyed boy— Joshua, Seungcheol thinks his name is— places a canned coffee atop the edge of your desk. God, Seungcheol would kill for that right about now.

He's too far gone to make out anything the two of you are saying, but Seungcheol can fill in the blanks. It's probably something stupid, he thinks bitterly. Good morning, love. How was your weekend, love? I missed you, love.

Blegh.

There's only one thing he can think to do. Seungcheol whips out his phone and shoots out a quick slew of texts, trying to ignore the way that Joshua has begun to laugh a little too loud at something you just said.

Seungcheol it's a monday and i'm hungover and the pretty boy in front of me keeps making heart eyes at his seatmate he's laughing. i'm hungover to the heavens and he's laughing god what have i done to deserve this god when will it be my turn Jeonghan you think someone else is pretty? :( Seungcheol do NOT start with me rn

Seokmin doesn't think Joshua notices.

It's just like Joshua, really, to be a bit slow on the uptake when it comes to matters of the heart. And so Seokmin nods along, the perfect picture of indulgence, as you wheedle your way into Joshua's every day.

You don't even have to show up in the physical sense. Joshua fills in those gaps for you. I think they'll like this, Joshua (while holding a box of some obscure snack) tells Seokmin at the grocery store. They'll get a kick out of that, Joshua cackles as he snaps a photo of a silly eraser.

Seokmin knows he could, should probably ask his best friend what the hell is going on. The boy is in desperate need of a quick 'check-the-label' moment, honestly.

In the end, Seokmin decides: Not my circus, not my monkeys.

He figures the two of you will eventually hammer it out yourselves. It's a rite of passage, isn't it? The limbo of flirtation, confined in the four corners of a classroom. The happy crush that may or may not reciprocate.

As Joshua all but skips— honest-to-God skips!— to the Wednesday session of his class with you, Seokmin can't help the fond shake of his head at what Joshua has gotten himself into. Sharing snacks and stationery every M/W/F?

There are worse situationships to have, Seokmin concedes.

Professor Kang has been in the academe for nearly two decades.

He's watched relationships bloom, and last, and end. One or two students have even invited him to their weddings. There's no shortage of gossip in the faculty rooms; there's always a seating plan to orchestrate, a partnered project to use for a little drama.

He likes to think he has a sixth sense for this sort of thing, and that's why he initially believed that you and Joshua... aren't really a thing.

Sure, the two of you bend your heads together a little too close when discussing something. He notices, too, the exchanges— both the transactional and spoken ones. But he's unconvinced, for the most part of the semester, that there's not really anything worth reading into.

That is, until, you don't show up to class one day. On a whim, Professor Kang asks Joshua about your absence, and the boy fumbles with his phone for a couple of minutes.

"Doctor's appointment," Joshua eventually divulges, though there's a slightly worried crease in his eyebrows that has Professor Kang thinking, huh.

That huh gives way to an ah when, at the next class, the two of you slot right back into place. Professor Kang catches bits and pieces of your conversation with Joshua; how he eagerly inquires about your Friday plans, how he listens intently to your little rants.

As the two of you walk out the classroom, your shoulders brush. It's slight enough that anybody not really looking would miss it, would dismiss it, but Professor Kang can only watch with amusement. Joshua apologizes for crowding you— only to take an infinitesimal step closer as the two of you leave the classroom.

By the time the two of you are out in the hall, your shoulders are almost touching again.

Ah, Professor Kang thinks. He swears he's seen it all in the past twenty years, but he's not immune to making mistakes.

Perhaps they're a little bit in love, after all.

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

The Fallout | Sebastian Sallow x OC #21

this entire chapter is angst and hurt with pretty much no comfort bc sebastian sallow is an idiot.

Summary: Sebastian, wracked with guilt after betraying Evangeline’s trust, seeks her out to apologize, navigating through Ominis’s pointed rebuke and his own self-loathing. He finds Evangeline by the Black Lake, and though their conversation is raw and painful, they begin to bridge the gap between them, with Sebastian vowing to change (again).

Words: 7,782

Tags: Angst, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Unspoken Feelings, Angst AGAIN, Emotional Fallout, Happy(?) Ending, Miscommunication, Drama, Sebastian Sallow Is An Idiot, Ominis Gaunt Being VERY Done™

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

Read on AO3

The Great Hall was alive with the low hum of chatter, punctuated by bursts of laughter from distant tables. To most, it was the familiar chaos of breakfast before enjoying the weekend. To Ominis, it was a minefield.

His wand rested lightly against the table, his fingers tapping a steady rhythm on its polished surface. His sharp ears picked up the undercurrent of conversation, threads of gossip weaving their way through the hall. He didn’t need sight to know who the subject was—Evangeline, whose name was on far too many tongues this week, and Sebastian, the ever-present chaos at the heart of Ominis’s life.

“…stood up for him like he’s some kind of hero,” someone hissed from the Ravenclaw table behind him, their voice dripping with scorn. “And then he’s caught snogging some fifth-year? Couldn’t even wait for her to wake up. Poor thing.”

Another voice chimed in, softer but no less cutting. “I heard she passed out by the fire and a moment later, he was off with the next Gryffindor. Honestly, it’s embarrassing.”

Ominis gritted his teeth, his jaw tightening. He carefully kept his expression neutral, though his fingers curled into a fist under the table. These weren’t just idle comments; they were knives, sharp and intentional, aimed at two of the people he cared about most.

Evangeline had always been bold, unflinching in her loyalty to those she called friends, and Ominis hadn’t been surprised when she confronted Lysander to defend Sebastian's honor—Evangeline’s fierce devotion was as much a part of her as her Quidditch skills or her sharp tongue. What had surprised him was how quickly Sebastian had thrown it all away.

Around him, the murmurs shifted, growing louder, like a fire spreading unchecked.

“Did you see how close she was sitting to him before it all went down? Makes you wonder how long he was waiting for her to pass out so he could leave,” someone at the Hufflepuff table said, their voice tinged with curiosity.

Ominis clenched his wand tighter, the cool wood grounding him as his anger simmered. He couldn’t tell what enraged him more—the audacity of the rumors or the fact that Sebastian’s actions made them so easy to believe.

"You'll break your wand if you're not careful," Imelda’s voice was surprisingly warm and low enough not to draw attention. She plopped herself down beside him with the casual confidence only she could pull off.

Ominis loosened his grip and let out a long, steadying breath. “I should hex everyone to make these rumors stop.”

Imelda snorted. “You and I both know the only thing that would stop these rumors is a new scandal. Give it a week—someone else will do something idiotic, and Sterling and Sallow will be yesterday’s gossip.”

Ominis doubted that. The combination of Evangeline’s bold declaration of loyalty in front of the whole school and Sebastian’s reckless behavior had painted an irresistible target on both their backs. The spectacle was too good, the drama too ripe, for people to let it go easily.

Imelda leaned in slightly, her voice dropping. “For what it’s worth, the rest of us are doing our best to stop the spread of this garbage. Poppy practically hexed a Hufflepuff who was being too loud about it yesterday, and Natty shut down a pack of Ravenclaws in Charms.” She shrugged. “We’ve got her back.”

It was true. Their group—Natty, Poppy, Garreth, and the others—had done their best to redirect conversations and shut down the crueler remarks when they came up. But there were limits to what even a tightly-knit group of sixth years could do. Hogwarts wasn’t exactly known for its restraint when it came to gossip.

Ominis sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I just—” He cut himself off, unsure how to finish the thought.

Imelda didn’t wait for him to try. “You’re worried about them,” she said simply, as if the thought wasn’t worth debating. “Look, Sterling’s tough. And Sebastian… well, he’s an idiot, but he’s not helpless.”

“An idiot is putting it lightly,” Ominis muttered. “This has hurt both of them. Evangeline’s been humiliated, and Sebastian—” He paused, shaking his head. “He knows he’s responsible, even if he hasn't admitted it.”

“It’s just…” Imelda hesitated, which caught Ominis off guard. She rarely hesitated. “I hate seeing her like this. She’s always been so… sure of herself, you know? I don’t like watching people like her get knocked down because of someone else’s stupidity.”

Imelda’s words hung in the air, heavier than Ominis expected. She rarely let her concern for others show, but when she did, it carried a weight that was impossible to ignore. He let the silence stretch between them for a moment, his mind turning over her observations.

"She’s been avoiding everyone," Ominis finally said, his voice quiet. "Burying herself in books. She’s retreating."

Imelda sighed, her usual bravado replaced by a rare softness. "And what about Sallow? Is he retreating too, or just digging himself into a deeper hole?"

Ominis let out a bitter laugh. "Oh, he’s digging, all right. Acting like none of this bothers him, flashing that irritating smirk at everyone who dares bring it up to his face. Still choosing to be seen with the same girl he snogged that night. But I know him too well to believe it. It’s a mask." His tone darkened. "The worst part is that he hasn’t even apologized to her. Not properly."

Imelda shook her head, muttering something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like bloody idiot.

"He’s lucky Sterling hasn’t hexed him," she said. "If it were me, I’d have turned him into a flobberworm by now."

Ominis couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I'm sure she's thought about it. But Evangeline isn’t like you, Imelda. She doesn’t lash out when she’s hurt—she pulls away."

"And you’re caught in the middle," Imelda observed, her tone resigned. "As always."

"As always," Ominis echoed, his voice laced with weariness.

Imelda tilted her head, studying Ominis’s face with an expression he couldn’t see but could feel. “So, what’s the plan then, Gaunt? You’ve always got one.”

Ominis frowned, his fingers still idly tapping against his wand. His plan? As if he could snap his fingers and undo the damage Sebastian had caused—not just to Evangeline’s reputation, but to the fragile balance of their trio. “I don’t know if there’s a plan for this,” he admitted. “Evangeline needs space, but if we leave her alone too long, it’ll only get worse. And Sebastian…” He trailed off, the weight of Sebastian’s stubbornness settling like a stone in his chest. “Sebastian needs a proper kick to the head.”

Imelda laughed, though it was short and dry. “If you’re volunteering, I’ll hold your wand while you do it.”

"Too bad his skull's too thick for it to work,” Ominis replied, lips twitching into a faint smirk before fading again. "He knows he’s ruined things; he just doesn’t know how to fix them.”

Imelda leaned back, crossing her arms. “So, no plan?”

“Not yet,” Ominis admitted, though his mind was turning. He wasn’t sure what the right course of action was, but he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving things as they were.

“I’ll think of something." He said at length, "Someone has to.”

“Well, good luck with that,” Imelda said, standing and grabbing her plate. “And when you do get around to kicking some sense into him, make sure Sterling’s around to watch. She deserves the entertainment.”

Ominis leaned back in his seat as Imelda departed, his mind whirring. Someone had to step in. Sebastian was clearly incapable of making the first move, and Evangeline… she was too hurt to reach out herself. And if nothing changed soon, the damage might become permanent.

He pushed his plate away, no longer hungry, and rose to his feet. Raising his wand to guide him, he made his way out of the Great Hall, the chatter behind him fading into a dull roar.

~

The library was quieter than the Great Hall, but it carried its own brand of tension. The soft rustling of pages and the occasional scrape of a chair created an uneasy symphony, one that suited Ominis’s mood. He navigated the familiar aisles, his wand guiding him toward the far corner where he hoped Evangeline would be hiding.

She’d been skipping meals and even classes all week, avoiding crowds and slinking away before anyone could corner her. Ominis had been patient, waiting for her to resurface on her own, but her absence was stretching into worry. The Evangeline he knew—bold enough to face down trolls and outfly Imelda in Quidditch—didn’t hide. It wasn’t like her to disappear—not like this.

Ominis stopped when he reached the corner table and tilted his head, listening for the familiar scratch of a quill or the rustle of parchment. Relief swept through him when he caught the faint, rhythmic sound of writing.

“Still avoiding everyone?” he asked as he approached, his tone carefully casual.

Evangeline paused mid-stroke but didn’t look up. “I’m studying,” she replied, her voice clipped. The quill resumed its steady movements, but there was tension in her tone, a defensive edge that Ominis didn’t miss.

“Studying, hiding,” he said, pulling out the chair across from her and settling into it. “They’re not mutually exclusive.”

She let out a sigh, setting her quill down and leaning back in her chair. “What do you want, Ominis?”

He rested his wand lightly on the table, folding his hands in front of him. “To make sure you’re alive. I've been worried.”

“Well, as you can see, I’m perfectly fine,” she said, gesturing vaguely to the books stacked around her. “Now, if you don’t mind—”

“Evangeline,” he interrupted gently, his tone firm but calm. “You can’t keep doing this. Hiding won’t make the rumors go away.”

Her hazel eyes snapped up to meet his, sharp and tired. “What else am I supposed to do, Ominis? Walk into the Great Hall and pretend I don’t hear them? Pretend they’re not calling me an idiot?” Her voice cracked slightly on the last word, and she looked away, her fingers curling into fists on the table.

“They’re cruel, Evangeline,” Ominis said softly. “But they don’t define you.”

“They don’t have to,” she replied bitterly. “I’ve already defined myself—for the whole school. The foolish Gryffindor who stood by her so-called friend who turned Quidditch into boxing, only to find out he doesn’t care. At all.”

“That’s not true,” Ominis said, leaning forward. “Sebastian cares. He cares so much that he’s too afraid to face you and apologize."

She let out a hollow laugh, her expression hardening. “If that’s your attempt at defending him, don’t bother. Actions speak louder than words, Ominis, and his actions have been loud and clear.”

Ominis sighed, rubbing his temple. “I’m not defending what he did. And believe me, he knows he’s made a mess of things. But he’s too much of an idiot to figure out how to fix it.”

“Then that’s his problem,” she said sharply, standing up and gathering her books. “Not mine.”

“Evangeline—”

She paused, her shoulders tense but not turning back to him. “I appreciate you checking on me, Ominis. Really, I do. But I can’t… I can’t do this right now.”

He didn’t stop her as she walked away, her footsteps quick and purposeful. Instead, he sat back in his chair, his fingers tapping an uneven rhythm against the wood.

Ominis pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, trying to push the building tension out of his skull. He’d thought that after last year, they could weather anything. But now he wasn’t so sure.

This wasn’t about dark magic or ancient artifacts. It wasn’t about the kind of betrayal you could blame on desperation or fear. This was about trust. And Sebastian had shattered it, not with curses or lies, but with something so mundane it almost felt worse.

Last year, Ominis found himself thinking, when Sebastian did the unthinkable, Evangeline had stood by him.

Ominis could recall the horror of that night with a clarity that made his stomach churn. The dark chamber, the oppressive weight if the the air, and the sickening, searing sounds of the Cruciatus Curse as it tore through her. She hadn’t hesitated to let Sebastian cast that unforgivable curse on her, because she’d believed in him. She’d trusted him enough to endure that kind of agony, certain that he wouldn’t lead her astray.

And later, when Sebastian’s own desperation and grief had driven him to kill Solomon in front of her, she still hadn’t left his side. She’d looked at Sebastian and seen a boy crushed under the weight of his own choices, not a monster, not a murderer. She’d forgiven him.

And now?

Now, after all of that, this—the fallout of one drunken party and Sebastian’s idiocy—felt like an impossible hurdle. And Ominis hated it. Hated the absurdity of it. Hated that something so comparatively trivial could cause this much damage between them.

But then, should he be surprised?

For the past two years, Evie had been the one who stood in Sebastian’s corner no matter what. She’d fought his battles, taken his side, even when Ominis had turned away in anger or disgust. How many more times could she be expected to put herself in the line of fire for him? How many more times could she pick up the pieces of his mess, only to have him treat her loyalty as something he was entitled to, rather than a gift?

Ominis knew Sebastian was a master at self-destruction, but this was different. This wasn’t just about Sebastian’s inability to apologize—it was about Evangeline’s breaking point. And Sebastian had betrayed her. Not in some dramatic, high-stakes moment like the ones they’d faced last year, but in a way that was somehow more personal. More intimate. He hadn’t protected her—not from the rumors, not from humiliation, and certainly not from himself.

Ominis sighed, pushing himself to his feet.

He couldn't allow this to tear their friendship apart. He couldn't let the two people he cared for most drift further away, not when he knew how much they meant to each other—even if they were too stubborn to admit it right now. Evangeline and Sebastian were tangled together in ways they probably didn’t even understand themselves, and Ominis had spent enough time caught in their orbit to know he had to intervene.

Ominis took a steadying breath, his resolve hardening. If there was one thing he was good at, it was cutting through Sebastian’s excuses. He wasn’t sure what he’d say yet, but he knew it wouldn’t be gentle. Sebastian had burned through every ounce of patience Ominis had left. If cruel honesty was what it took to finally get through to him, then so be it.

~

The Undercroft was quiet when Ominis arrived, the stone walls damp with the faint chill that always lingered in the hidden room. His footsteps echoed softly as he stepped inside, his wand guiding him toward the center where he knew Sebastian would be. Because when things got overwhelming—and they always did with Sebastian—he retreated to the Undercroft. It was his sanctuary.

But not today. Today, it would be his reckoning.

Sure enough, Sebastian was there, pacing in agitated circles. Ominis could hear the scuff of his boots against the floor, could feel the restless energy radiating off of him even without seeing it. He stopped mid-step when the wall closed behind Ominis, and for a moment, the silence stretched between them.

“You’re late,” Sebastian said eventually, his voice carrying a familiar edge of bravado. But it was thinner than usual, and Ominis could tell he was barely holding it together.

“You’ve really outdone yourself this time, haven’t you?” Ominis replied, his voice calm but laced with steel.

Sebastian sighed, running a hand through his hair. “If you’re just going to yell at me, save it. I’ve heard enough of it from Imelda, from Poppy—hell, even Garreth had a go at me.”

Ominis took a step forward, “And did any of them get through to you?”

Sebastian didn’t answer right away, his silence telling. Finally, he muttered, “I already know I messed up, Ominis.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Ominis snapped, his frustration breaking through. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Any idea how much you’ve hurt her?”

Sebastian flinched, but Ominis pressed on, his tone sharp. “Evangeline has stood by you through everything—through curses, through murder, protecting you from Azkaban. She’s defended you, fought for you when you didn’t deserve it. And now, because of one drunken night and your inability to think past your own damn nose, you’ve humiliated her in front of the entire school.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Sebastian said quietly, his voice strained.

Ominis barked out a bitter laugh. “Of course you didn’t. You never mean to. But that doesn’t change what happened. While she was passed out, Sebastian—passed out—you went and snogged some fifth-year by the fire. Do you even realize how that looks? How that makes her feel?”

“I wasn’t thinking!” Sebastian exploded, his voice rising. “I—Merlin, Ominis, I didn’t plan for any of this to happen! It just… it just did.”

Ominis took another step forward, his voice cutting like steel. “And instead of fixing it, you’ve spent the last week pretending it doesn’t bother you. Flashing that stupid grin, parading around with the same girl you snogged that night—”

“I’m not parading—”

“Don’t,” Ominis snapped, his tone icy. “Don’t even try to justify it. You’ve made a mess of things, Sebastian. A mess that Evangeline is paying for. And what have you done to fix it? Hm?”

Sebastian exhaled a shuddering breath, his pacing resuming as though the movement could somehow release the weight of Ominis’s words. The silence between them grew heavy again, stretching like a taut wire that threatened to snap.

“Why?” Ominis finally asked, his voice low but unyielding. “Why did you do it, Sebastian?”

Sebastian froze mid-step, his back to Ominis. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands as if the answer could be wrung out of his skull. “I don’t know,” he muttered.

“Don’t lie to me.”

Sebastian turned sharply, his frustration bubbling over. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Ominis! I was drunk! She was drunk! It just—” He stopped, his fists clenching at his sides. “It just happened.”

Ominis shook his head, unimpressed. "I’ve known you long enough to know that everything you do has a reason—even if it’s a selfish one. So tell me why. Why did you do it?"

Sebastian’s jaw worked as he looked away, his gaze fixed on some point on the floor. Ominis could hear the rapid, uneven rhythm of his breathing, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in his frame.

“What were you thinking?!” Ominis pressed, his tone sharp.

Sebastian barked out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You really want to know, Ominis? Fine. I was thinking about myself,” he said, "About what I wanted, about—” He hesitated, his voice faltering. “About what I couldn’t have.”

Ominis clenched his jaw, his knuckles whitening around his wand. He knew where this was going, but hearing Sebastian lay it out piece by piece was like watching a slow-motion train wreck.

Sebastian let out a bitter sigh, slumping against one of the stone pillars. “She was… Merlin, Evie was so drunk. But she was happy to see me. She smiled at me like, like maybe she—” He stopped himself, his jaw tightening before he forced the words out. “Like maybe she might feel the same way. Like maybe we could actually have a chance.”

“But then she passed out. And I—I should have stayed with her. I know that." He laughed again , the sound hollow and self-loathing. "But all I could think about was what it felt like when she looked at me, when she leaned into me like she didn’t want to let go. And how much I wanted her. How much I couldn’t have her. Because she'll never love me back, Ominis. And I don't deserve her anyway.”

He pressed the heel of his palm against his forehead, his words tumbling out in a rush now. “And then I saw someone else, and for one stupid, selfish second, it was easier. Easier to let myself pretend my feelings for Evie didn’t matter, to forget how much I wanted someone I couldn't have and never will. So, yes. I kissed her. I didn’t think about what it looked like, or what it meant, or how much worse it would make everything. I just… did it.” His voice cracked and he turned away, his shoulders trembling with the weight of his confession.

“And now you've ruined everything,” Ominis muttered, his voice low but razor-sharp.

Sebastian flinched, his head dropping. “I know, Ominis. You don’t have to keep saying it.”

“Oh, I do,” Ominis shot back, stepping closer, his tone gaining an edge. “Because apparently, it takes the whole damn school yelling at you before anything gets through that thick skull of yours."

Sebastian turned back to him, his expression anguished. “Do you really think you need to say all this? That I don’t already hate myself?”

“Hate yourself all you like," Ominis said coldly. "But hating yourself doesn’t fix anything. It doesn’t undo what you did, and it sure as hell doesn’t make up for the fact that you left her lying there while you went off to satisfy your ego.”

Sebastian swallowed hard, his head falling against the pillar again with a dull thud. “How could I leave her there, Ominis? I didn’t even think about what might happen to her. What if she’d gotten sick? What if someone else found her before Natty? What the hell is wrong with me?”

“Do you want me to list it all out for you, Sebastian?” Ominis’s voice was sharp and unrelenting, each word like a lash. “Do you want me to spell out exactly what’s wrong with you? Because I will. I’ll tell you that you’re selfish. That you’re reckless. That you’ve let your feelings for Evangeline warp you into someone so consumed by his own desires that you don't even think about the destruction your decisions leave in their wake.”

Sebastian flinched, but Ominis didn’t stop. He stepped closer, his voice deadly calm. “I’ll tell you that you’ve taken the strongest person I know—the one who never wavered, who stood by you when no one else would—and you’ve turned her into someone who hides. You’ve made her doubt herself. Doubt her worth. And why? Because of your selfishness. Because of your inability to think beyond your own wants.”

Sebastian’s shoulders sagged, his mouth opening as if to respond, but no words came. Ominis’s voice grew colder, his tone cutting like ice.

“You humiliated her, Sebastian. In ways no one else ever could. Not the Slytherins who taunt her about her heritage. Not the gossiping fools who envy her. You. Because she trusted you. She trusted you more than anyone else in this world, and you threw that trust away—for what? A fleeting, meaningless moment of distraction?”

Sebastian’s fists clenched, his knuckles white. “I didn’t—” he started, his voice hoarse.

“Didn’t what?” Ominis interrupted, stepping closer until he was looming over Sebastian, “Didn’t think? Didn’t mean it? Those excuses won’t fix what you’ve done. You can’t undo this with hollow words or promises you’ll never keep.”

Sebastian’s breath hitched, his head hanging low as Ominis continued, his tone softening slightly but still firm. “You're broken. You’ve been breaking ever since Anne left, ever since Solomon died, ever since you let yourself believe you don’t deserve better. And maybe you’re right. Maybe you don’t. You sure as hell don't deserve Evangeline. But she deserves better than the coward you’re being right now.”

The silence that followed was suffocating, heavy with the weight of Ominis’s words. For once, Sebastian had no quick retort, no deflections or bravado to hide behind. He stood there, raw and exposed, the reality of his actions settling over him like a suffocating fog.

Ominis stepped back, his expression unreadable. “If you want to fix this, then stop wallowing and do something about it. Not for you—for her. She’s not going to wait for you forever, Sebastian."

Sebastian looked up at him then, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I don’t know how,” he whispered. “I don’t know where to start, Ominis.”

Ominis stared at Sebastian for a long moment. His sharp features softened only slightly, though the anger still simmered beneath the surface.

“You start,” Ominis said, his voice low and deliberate, “By telling her the truth. And then you listen, Sebastian. You listen to what she has to say, and you take it. Whatever she throws at you, you take it, because you deserve it.”

Sebastian flinched at the finality in Ominis’s tone, the weight of his words sinking deeper into the pit of his stomach. His eyes fell to the floor, his shoulders sagging under the crushing realization of just how badly he’d screwed up. “What if she doesn't forgive me?” he asked, his voice trembling.

“I think,” Ominis said, his voice softer now but no less firm, “that Evangeline Sterling has already given you more chances than anyone else ever would. And if you don’t stop wasting them, then yes, Sebastian. She’ll stop listening. She’ll stop caring. And she'll stop forgiving. But you have no one to blame but yourself.”

Sebastian nodded slowly, the motion heavy with resignation. “I’ll... I'll talk to her,” he said finally, his voice hollow.

Ominis didn’t respond right away. He studied Sebastian for a moment longer, as though weighing his words. Then he gave a short, curt nod. “Good. And Sebastian?”

Sebastian looked up at him, his expression hollow and weary. “Yeah?”

“If she forgives you, don’t make her regret giving you another chance.” Ominis’s voice was like iron, unyielding. “Because if you hurt her again, I won’t forgive you either.”

Sebastian’s throat tightened, the weight of Ominis’s warning settling over him like a second layer of guilt. He didn’t reply, and Ominis didn’t wait for him to. With a swish of his wand, the Undercroft’s entrance opened, and Ominis stepped through without another word, leaving Sebastian alone with his thoughts.

~

Sebastian woke to the damp chill of the Undercroft, the rough stone beneath him pressing uncomfortably into his back. His neck ached from the awkward angle at which he’d slumped against one of the pillars, and his robes were crumpled, wrinkled from what could hardly be called sleep. For a moment, he stared up at the ceiling, his mind foggy and disoriented, the weight in his chest a stubborn, familiar ache.

How had he ended up here?

It hit him all at once: Ominis. His words. The cold fury in his voice, the brutal precision of every accusation. The memory surged back like a slap, leaving no room for denial, no way to escape the truth Ominis had hammered into him.

You humiliated her, Sebastian. In ways no one else ever could. Because she trusted you.

Sebastian groaned, dragging a hand over his face. The coarse fabric of his sleeve scratched against his skin, grounding him against the dull throb of his guilt. He knew he deserved it. Deserved worse, even. But that didn’t make it any easier to breathe.

Sebastian sat up slowly, his body stiff and sluggish. The cool air of the Undercroft wrapped around him, biting through his crumpled robes, but he barely felt it. All he could feel was the memory of Evangeline’s absence—her quiet absence in the hallways, the way her laughter had disappeared from their group, leaving behind a hollow silence he couldn’t fill.

You threw that trust away.

Sebastian pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, as if he could physically push the memories back, stop them from replaying over and over. But they wouldn’t stop, because Ominis had been right. His words weren’t just true—they were inescapable.

Because she trusted you.

The thought alone was enough to drive him to his feet, his legs trembling slightly from the hours he’d spent curled on the ground. He staggered upright, leaning briefly against the pillar for support as his knees protested. His movements were stiff, his body as uncooperative, but he couldn’t stay here.

He had to find her. He had to try to fix this.

The Great Hall buzzed with its usual morning energy as Sebastian stepped inside, scanning the Gryffindor table for any sign of her. His stomach clenched when he saw that her usual spot—wedged between Natty and Cressida—was empty. His heart sank further when he caught sight of the guarded expressions on their faces as he approached.

“Where’s Evangeline?” he asked, his voice rough from sleep and the lingering tension in his chest.

Natty exchanged a glance with Cressida before answering. “We don’t know,” she said carefully.

Sebastian frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Cressida said softly, “that she hasn’t been around much. We didn't see her this morning in the common room, nor in our dorm. She’s barely there. She wakes up before us, goes to bed late, and hardly says a word.”

Her words landed like a blow to his gut. “She hasn’t said where she’s been?”

Natty shook her head, her expression turning to one of quiet reproach. “Sebastian, she’s avoiding people for a reason.”

He swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat. He wanted to press them for more, but the look in Natty’s eyes was enough to stop him. She knew what had happened—of course she did, she's the one who found Evie laying there alone—and there was no hiding from the judgment in her eyes.

“Thanks,” he muttered before turning on his heel and stalking out of the hall.

The hours that followed were a frustrating blur of dead ends as Sebastian scoured every corner of the castle he could think of.

He wandered through the library first, weaving between the shelves and peering into the tucked-away corners where she liked to study. His footsteps echoed in the quiet space, but no matter how far he searched, there was no sign of her. Madam Scribner glared at him over her spectacles when his whispered inquiries became too loud, and he left before her irritation could boil over into words.

The Quidditch pitch was his next stop, but it, too, was empty, save for a pair of second-years casually tossing a Quaffle back and forth. He lingered at the edge of the stands for a moment, staring out at the expanse of grass, before turning away with a muttered curse.

By the time night fell, his legs ached from climbing stairs and traversing hallways, but his determination remained unwavering. He retreated to the Undercroft once more, hoping that she might show up, seeking the solace the hidden room often provided. But as the minutes stretched into hours, he was met with nothing but the cold, empty silence of the space.

It was in the early hours of morning that Sebastian finally slipped through the entrance to the Slytherin common room. The dim, green-tinted room was nearly empty, save for a pair of fifth-years whispering near the hearth, but Sebastian barely spared them a glance as he made his way toward his dormitory.

He felt hollow, his chest tight with frustration and guilt. Hours of searching had turned up nothing, and the idea of going to bed without finding her filled him with a restless dread.

Pushing open the door to his dormitory, he stepped inside, his gaze immediately snapping to the companion candle on his bedside table. The soft glow of its flame greeted him, flickering steadily. His pulse quickened.

Evangeline was awake somewhere.

Sebastian stepped back into the corridor and closed the door behind him, leaning heavily against it as relief warred with frustration. She was awake. But where?

He racked his brain, thought back to every conversation, every memory they’d shared, searching for something—anything—that might give him a clue of where she might be hiding.

And then, it hit him.

The memory she’d shared with him for his birthday. It had been a beautiful day by the Black Lake in their fifth year, the two of them sitting side by side, staring out at the water as the sky reflected on its surface.

Sebastian pushed off the door, his heart pounding. Maybe she was there. It was a long shot, but it was all he had.

The castle was silent as he slipped through its shadowed corridors. Sneaking out past curfew was second nature to him by now, but tonight, his usual thrill of rebellion was absent. All he could focus on was finding her.

The cool night air hit him as he stepped onto the grounds, the vast expanse of the Black Lake stretching out before him. The moonlight danced across its surface, casting rippling reflections that seemed to shift with the breeze. The chill bit at his exposed skin, but he ignored it, his eyes scanning the shoreline.

And then he saw her.

She was perched on a low, weathered rock near the edge of the lake, her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. Her long hair spilled over her shoulders, catching the moonlight.

For a moment, he stopped, his breath catching in his throat. The sight of her after what felt like an eternity apart stilled him, rooting him to the spot. She looked so small, so fragile, her usual fire dimmed into quiet embers.

Sebastian swallowed hard, forcing his legs to move. The crunch of his boots against the gravel shore broke the silence, and he saw her stiffen slightly at the sound. She didn’t turn to look at him, but he knew she knew he was there.

“Evie,” he said softly, his voice barely carrying over the lapping of the lake’s gentle waves.

She didn’t respond. Her gaze remained fixed on the water, her arms tightening around her knees.

Sebastian hesitated, unsure whether to move closer. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, and one wrong step would send them both tumbling into an abyss they couldn’t climb out of.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said, his voice trembling with the weight of everything he’d been carrying.

“Why?” she asked, her tone flat and distant. The single word cut through him like a blade.

He took a step closer, the cool air biting at his skin. “Because I need to talk to you."

She let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow and devoid of warmth. "What for? To give me some excuse for why you left me there? Why you chose her over me?" Her voice cracked, and she quickly turned away, her hands gripping the fabric of her cardigan - the very same one he'd picked out for her weeks ago in Hogsmeade. And now, seeing her clutch it like armor against him, the memory felt like a knife twisting in his chest.

“I—” His voice faltered. He had spent hours in his mind rehearsing what he might say if he found her, but now, faced with the raw pain in her voice and the sight of her curling further into herself, every word felt inadequate.

“You what, Sebastian?” she snapped, finally turning to look at him. Her eyes, glinting in the moonlight, weren’t filled with the fire he was used to. They were dulled, tired, and red-rimmed from tears. “You didn’t mean for it to happen? You didn’t think it would matter? You didn’t—what? Care?”

“That’s not true,” he said quickly, the desperation in his tone undeniable. “I care, Evie. I care more than I can—” He stopped, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I just… I didn’t think. I was stupid, and I didn’t think.”

“Didn’t think.” She repeated the words slowly, bitterly, her voice dripping with disbelief. “That’s always your excuse, isn’t it?”

Sebastian flinched, the accusation hitting harder than he’d expected.

“You didn’t think about how I would feel,” she continued, her voice steady but trembling with barely restrained emotion. “You didn’t think about what it would be like for me to hear what you did—to watch you strut around the school with her on your arm and know that everyone was laughing at my expense. You didn’t think about how it would feel to trust you, to stand by you, and have you turn around and… and—”

She broke off, her voice cracking as her gaze dropped back to the water. Her arms tightened around her knees again, her fingers digging into the fabric of the cardigan.

Sebastian took another step closer, his hands clenched at his sides as though he was physically holding himself back from reaching for her. “Evangeline,” he murmured, her full name slipping out instinctively.

"Don't call me that." Her voice cracked, sharp and brittle, as if the words themselves were a shield she had hastily raised.

Sebastian froze.

She had never stopped him from calling her Evangeline—never. It wasn’t just her name; it was his, in a way... something he naturally wielded with purpose. He used it sparingly, reserved for moments that carried weight: when he wanted to tease her into a smile, make her pause and really hear him, or when he needed to say something only she could understand. It was his way of reaching past her walls, of breaking through barriers when she threw them up. Now, hearing her reject it felt like a door slamming shut, leaving him stranded on the other side.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, the words rough and uneven.

She shook her head, her gaze still fixed on the water. “Don’t say things you don’t mean,” she murmured. “You’re good at that, you know—saying what people want to hear."

Sebastian stepped closer, “I do mean it,” he said, his voice low but firm. “I’m sorry, Evang—Evie. For everything. For hurting you. For making you feel like I didn’t care. I... I don’t know how to fix it, but I want to. I need to.”

She let out a hollow laugh, her shoulders rising and falling with the motion. “Fix it? You can’t undo what you did. You can’t un-snog her. You can’t erase what everyone’s saying.”

“I know,” he said, his voice almost breaking. “I know I can’t. But that doesn’t mean I won’t try to make it right."

Her head turned slightly at that, her eyes meeting his for a fleeting moment before darting away. “For me, or for you?” she asked softly. “You sure you're not just here to soothe your guilt? To make yourself feel better?”

“No!” he said urgently, stepping closer again. “This isn’t about me, Evie, it’s about you—because you’re…” His voice faltered, and he blinked hard, feeling the sting of tears building behind his eyes. “You’re everything to me, Evie. You always have been.”

Her breath hitched at his words, her posture stiffening as if she were bracing herself against them. “Stop,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Stop saying things you don’t mean.”

Sebastian’s throat tightened, and a tear slipped down his cheek, warm and bitter against his skin. He wiped it away hastily, as if embarrassed, but his hands trembled at his sides. “I’ve never meant anything more in my life,” he said, his voice raw. He took another step, closing the space between them, and knelt in front of her. His chest heaved with the effort to keep himself steady, to show her the truth in every fractured word.

Her hazel eyes lingered on the water for another beat, and then she exhaled, her shoulders sinking under the weight of everything she’d been holding back. It wasn’t a collapse, but a quiet unraveling, as though all her defenses were fraying at the edges.

The first tear slid down her cheek, and she didn’t bother to wipe it away. It was followed by another, and then another, until her breath hitched, a small, broken sound escaping her lips. She pressed her trembling hands to her face, muffling the quiet sobs that started to spill free.

“Evie…” Sebastian’s voice cracked, raw and filled with desperation. His own eyes burned, his own tears slipping free, but he reached out instinctively, his hand hovering uncertainly over her arm. “Please... don’t cry. I—Merlin, I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head without looking at him, her face buried in her hands. “You don’t get it,” she gasped through the tears, her voice raw and choked. “You don’t get how hard it is—how humiliated I’ve felt. I was always the one who stood by you, Sebastian. Always. And this... this is what I get for it.”

“You’re right,” he said hoarsely, his voice breaking again. “You’re right about all of it. I’ve been selfish, reckless... I’ve hurt you in ways I don’t know how to fix. But Evie, please believe me—I never meant to. I never wanted to hurt you.”

His hand trembled as it settled gently on her arm, the gesture tentative, pleading. When her gaze flickered down to it, Sebastian froze, his breath catching in his throat. He braced himself for her to pull away.

For a long moment, she didn’t move, her lips pressing into a thin line. But then, with a sigh so soft it was almost inaudible, she shifted, her body leaning ever so slightly toward him.

He stayed perfectly still, his breath catching as she let her head drop, her temple brushing lightly against his shoulder. He could feel her uneven breaths, the tremble in her frame as tears rolled down her cheeks.

“I don’t know what to do with you, Sebastian,” she said after a long silence, her voice barely above a whisper. There was no anger in her tone now, no sharp edges. Just tired, aching honesty. “You always do this. You hurt me, and then you come back, and somehow, I always forgive you.”

He swallowed hard, guilt twisting in his chest like a knife. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he said quietly, his voice rough.

She didn’t respond right away, her silence stretching out between them. The soft lapping of the lake’s waves didn't even fill the void that had grown. And when she finally spoke again, her voice was so quiet he almost missed it.

“I don’t know if I can keep doing this. I keep thinking… maybe this time will be different. Maybe you’ll change. And then... you don’t.”

Sebastian flinched, “Evie, please,” he said, his voice raw. “I’m trying. I know I’ve failed, but I am trying. I swear I am.”

She let out a quiet, hollow laugh, her breath warm against his shoulder. “I think you believe that,” she said softly. “But it doesn’t feel like it from where I’m standing. From where I’m... sitting.” Her lips quirked faintly, though there was no humor in the gesture.

Sebastian’s chest tightened further, his vision blurred by unshed tears, “I’ll do better,” he said, his voice heavy with desperation. “I swear it, Evie. I know I’ve let you down. Over and over. And I hate myself for it. I hate what I’ve done to you. What I’ve done to us.”

She leaned back to look at him and her gaze softened slightly, though the weariness didn’t leave her eyes. “I don’t want you to hate yourself, Sebastian,” she said quietly. “I just… I just want you to stop hurting me.”

Sebastian felt her words sink into him like lead weights, dragging him down with the raw, simple truth of them. Stop hurting me. It wasn’t a demand or an accusation. It wasn’t even spoken with anger. It was a plea—fragile and trembling, like she didn’t even expect it to be possible.

“I will, Evie,” he murmured, his voice raw and unsteady. “I swear it.”

Her lips twitched faintly, though the ghost of a smile never quite formed. “You say that,” she said softly, leaning back against him. “And maybe you mean it. It's just... I don’t think I can take it again if you’re wrong.”

He didn’t respond right away. He didn’t trust himself to. Instead, he let the silence settle between them again, his hand still resting lightly on her arm. He wasn’t sure how long they sat like that, the quiet stretching out into a fragile bubble. But eventually, he spoke again, his voice low and steady.

“I’m not wrong this time,” he said, the words more a vow than a promise. “I can’t be. Because I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

Evangeline's breath hitched then, and for a moment, he thought she might pull away. But instead, she simply nodded, a silent acknowledgment of his words. A silent understanding.

Sebastian let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his hand hesitating before shifting to cover hers where it rested against her knee. He didn’t squeeze, didn’t grip—just let his palm rest there, warm and steady, like an unspoken promise.

“You’re still a bloody idiot,” Evie murmured after what felt like an eternity, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

Sebastian let out a faint laugh, the sound rough and cracked but real. “Yeah,” he admitted, his lips twitching into the barest of smiles. “I probably always will be.”

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her hazel eyes searching his face. There was still hurt there, still an ache he couldn’t hope to erase in a single night. But there was something else, too—a flicker of something softer, something that gave him hope.

“Please don’t make me regret this, Sebastian,” she said quietly.

His throat tightened, and he nodded, his eyes locked on hers. “I won’t,” he promised, his voice raw but unwavering. “Not this time.”

For a moment, she held his gaze, her expression unreadable. Then, with a small, almost imperceptible sigh, she leaned back into him, letting her arms snake around his waist, pulling him closer.

The tension that had been coiled so tightly in Sebastian’s shoulders began to ease as he closed his eyes, his chin lightly brushing the top of her head. The scent of her hair enveloped him. It was a comfort he hadn’t realized he was desperate for until now.

“I mean it,” he murmured, his voice soft, “Whatever it takes, Evangeline, I’ll prove it to you. I’ll fix what I’ve broken.”

Her grip on him tightened slightly, and though she didn’t respond, he felt the subtle shift in her breathing. She was letting him in, piece by fragile piece. It wasn’t forgiveness—not yet—but it was something. A beginning.

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

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Gryffindor Divider Credit

[mediumtires]

How do you think your Christian and Toto would be seen/treated by the press? I know in 7 Years you mentioned that after the outing they were hunted (knowing the British press this is very realistic)

This was actually so fun to think about that it inspired me to put words down in a little notes doc. 🙂

.

They’re not seen much anymore. Spotting them out in public, together nonetheless, has become a rare occurrence. It’s instant money.

That week in November, the paps cash in big time.

First, there’s Monaco. They’re rarely ever seen in Monaco anymore, and then that week, on a random Monday afternoon, they step out of the Hotel de Paris together, shoulders brushing, and it’s pure gold. They have to wait for their car - a bloody AMG ONE - and they stand outside chatting with another couple for at least three minutes, laughing, touching. Talking, looking at each other. That’s the stuff that brings the money. When the car pulls up, they have a brief friendly tussle over the keys. Toto wins. Christian climbs into the passenger seat, and when the car pulls away, they get a clear shot of his hand on Toto’s thigh.

That same day, they get more shots of them in the evening, and again - pure cash. The jacket Toto was wearing that afternoon is now on Christian. They’re holding hands. Unlike before, they’re most likely unaware that they got caught. Where they were keeping things fairly lowkey in the morning, a somewhat professional air to them, that night they’re unfiltered and easy in their intimacy. There’s a brief kiss Toto smothers to the side of Christian’s face that has him pull away laughing. It’s hard to capture their emotion and connection properly, but then again, it translates pretty easily into solid cash.

Spotting them once out and about is pretty decent money already. But then it’s the Vegas Grand Prix, and they’re suddenly walking the paddock together on a Wednesday night and Toto gives the cameras a cheeky “Viva Las Vegas” with a wink and a smirk, all while Christian is laughing at him from the side, one hand grabbing for him to pull him along. The cash is in the small moment where their hands intertwine and lock together and the cameras are getting HQ front row access to exactly what the people want to see.

The next day, they get a bunch of good shots of Christian Horner outside the Mercedes motorhome, smiling wide with the silver star in the background. Cha-ching. Later that day they’re seen having lunch together. They leave the track together, get in a car together. Some lucky bastard finds out which hotel they’re staying at and gets a few good shots of them, hand in hand, getting out of the car and walking inside.

It goes on like this the entire weekend. There was nothing from them for months, and then suddenly it’s like a flip switches and they’re spotted so much that the prices actually start to go down. Not by much, but by enough.

And then the unthinkable happens. A bunch of them catch them on Sunday night, when the race is already done and dusted and the crews are packing up, behind one of the motorhomes, kissing. And not just a quick peck goodbye before they leave for the airport. They’re full on making out. Hand on arse and everything. It’s a fucking goldmine.

Suspicious but who cares. People like them, they don’t just go from never being seen to making out in plain sight. People like Toto and Christian, they have entire staffs behind them, making sure this sort of thing doesn’t happen. Especially given the unfortunate incident that one time in Singapore. So it’s suspicious. But again, who cares when all of them can already hear the cash rolling in. With stuff like this, it doesn’t matter whether it’s fabricated or not. What matters is that the people want to see inside; they want glimpses of what happens behind the scenes, behind the carefully illustrated facades. They want to be part of that special kind of intimacy, the kind that’s between two people and no one else. Wanting to be part of it is what makes them pay, what makes them buy cheap magazines and subscribe online. They want to see whether it’s real, what’s real about it, what’s true, they want to be the judge of it.

And if Christian Horner gives them the finger when they’re done, claps Toto Wolff’s arse on the way back, what’s that to them. They’re getting fucking paid for it.

[noturlocallily777]

𝐍𝐞𝐫𝐝!𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭

Warnings⚠️: use of y/n, fluff, swearing

A/n: I know this is probably gonna do really bad but if you guys want a part two lmk but if not then I won't, this is also super long so I apologise. Pt 2 might be a little bit spicy (this is also my first fanfic so pls don't judge its really bad 😿)🪼

Summary: Y/N falls in love with a boy at the school library and they plan to go to a party together but what will happen when he arrives at her house to pick her up...

Y/n's pov:

You were silently reading to yourself in the school library, no distractions just silence. That was until you felt a tap on your shoulder, you turn around and your eyes land on the most handsome boy you've ever seen.

"Hey do you have any book recommendations I don't really know what to read" The brunette haired boy spoke. You don't reply straight away as you're too busy staring into his eyes and taking in his appearance. "Hello...?" He spoke softly. "Oh uhm sorry about that" you giggle nervously "well I really like romance books so if you like that I'll show you where they are" you speak as you give him another glance up and down. 𝐆𝐨𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭. "Sure, lead the way" he smiles politely. You stand up to show him where the romance books are.

Matt's pov:

His gaze lands on you as you stand up, his eyes wandering up and down your body. "So uhh...are you going to that party next week?" I question nervously. "I'm not sure, I don't really have anyone to go with" the pretty girl infront of him speaks. "Y'know we can always go together if we get to know each other a bit better....of course only if you want to" I smile politely. "Yeah I'd like that a lot" she replies with a small giggle.

After exchanging phone numbers and few days of talking and texting back and forth over the weekend the day of the party finally comes.

Y/n's pov:

"I really need to look good for him today" I sigh as I look in the mirror, thinking about what to wear. You walk over to your closet and pick out (outfit of your choice). After you've changed into the outfit you pick up your phone and see a notification from Matt. The text read: "hey 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲, be there in 10"

Matt's Pov:

I hit send on my phone. My heart is beating out of my chest as I re-read what I sent Y/N. "Hey pretty, be there in 10". 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐢 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭, I think to myself. All the negative thoughts come to a stop as I read what Y/N replied with. "Okay handsome see you soon" the message reads. I bite my lip as I see the reply, the corners of my lips curling up into a smirk.

Y/n's pov:

As I finish my makeup and hair I hear a knock at my front door. I rush downstairs and open the door, only to be met with the same boy I fell in love with in the library, his pretty blue eyes and fluffy brown hair. You could stare at him for hours.

(Creds to @sof1ii she gave me ideas for this go follow her)

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Skeleton gets arrested and has to ask his brother to pay for his freedom. Who's doing it?

Undertale Sans - He's not too surprised. He's not too surprised either he has to pay for Undyne as well lol. He doesn't even want to know what the hell these two did again. He's going to pay for them, he doesn't mind.

Undertale Papyrus - He's a bit panicking because his brother usually doesn't get into trouble, but when he learns Sans actually pranked a police officer and that the guy took it wrong, he hesitates for one second to let his brother in prison one more hour, just so he learns his lesson.

Underswap Sans - Well luckily he's a police officer and simply frees his brother. He's pretty sure anyway Honey didn't steal anything in that shop, he probably just put something in his pocket and the owner of the shop freaked out because he's a monster.

Underswap Papyrus - ???? But he's a police officer??? Honey is so anxious about this. He goes to pay for his brother, obviously, but he doesn't understand why his brother is even in this situation. You can arrest a police officer?

Underfell Sans - He sighs loudly, but it's already humiliating enough for Edge to ask for his help so he guesses he's going to make an effort. He's not paying for Undyne though, she can rot in hell for all he cares lol.

Underfell Papyrus - To free or not to free his brother, that is the question. Edge pretends he's not home and won't come to fetch his brother before the next day just to teach him a lesson. That's what happens when you drunkenly fight random humans in a bar. Red is not too happy about it but he can't really complain, right?

Horrortale Sans - ????? The hell you mean you arrested his brother? When Oak learns that's all because of a misunderstanding, he's going to be pissed. They let his brother sit in a cell too small for him for hours and now his back is hurting. What is wrong with those humans? Oak is not the biggest fan of police officers.

Horrortale Papyrus - That's not too unusual, as most police officers in town one day found Oak roaming aimlessly in a random part of the town looking lost. But what's new is them arresting him for that, despite Oak trying to explain to them he is disabled and needs help. Willow is going to scream at them and refuses to pay, threatening to sue them all for how bad they treated his brother. Since one big scary monster is not enough, he calls Toriel. Now with two BIG scary monsters in the room, the police officers shyly decide to obey and free Oak.

Swapfell Sans - Hell no, he's not paying. His brother put himself into that mess, he'll find a way out of that mess on his own. Nox has spent his whole life getting his brother out of prison for the stupidest reasons, he's not doing that again. He even tells the police officer to keep him a little longer so he can enjoy his weekend in peace lmao.

Swapfell Papyrus - Oh. Oh, this is his moment. Rus goes to the police station, asks to talk to his brother, then starts dancing at his nose, flipping his middle fingers at him. That's his revenge for all these times he let him spend the night in a cell. Anyway, he hopes Nox has fun because he's not taking him out, he used the money Nox asks him to grab to go to McDonalds. See you in two days, loser. Too bad Nox got so mad he attacked his brother and now they're both in a cell because Rus thought he was so clever by attacking back.

Fellswap Gold Sans - The hell? You think you can arrest his baby brother without any consequences? Wine doesn't pay for his brother's freedom. He explodes the wall of the prison and takes his brother back. Who cares if he gets in trouble. What are you going to do? Arrest him? Good luck with that, he wouldn't like to be the one showing on his door with the audacity of asking him to surrender.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - Oh, he says to the police officer that it's fine. He doesn't need to do anything because Wine will escape when he'll get bored. The police officer laughs at him saying he's an idiot if he thinks he's going to let a dangerous criminal escape that easy. That's when Coffee heard "IS THAT MY BROTHER YOU'RE CALLING AN IDIOT?!" with a very angry voice and lot of fighting. Welp. Maybe he should clean the house now, it's clear Wine is coming home in an hour or so.

[ohsohoney]

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Fifteen

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Sorry sorry sorry for how long it's taken for me to update!! Had a lot on and then I got real sick. Hope this is an alright update though:) Continues on from the last scene where they were at the cinema!

Enjoy seeing the articles I tried to make too lmao, they're there not too far down after the first couple paragraphs. Idk what I was thinking w that one, but it felt necessary after the long wait!

| Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

taglist: @thelastemzy @helloitsme1223 @geekchic48

Masterlist

It was Saturday, and Saturday typically meant that the weekend had finally come. And both of those things had yet to occur whilst I’d been staying in Detroit. Which, in truth, wasn’t the only thing to throw me completely off my game this morning.

Although honestly, it was a really big change.

Rosie wasn’t around yet. Apparently Saturday’s were sacred days within the Mathers household, seeing as the pre-teen liked to sleep in on the mornings she had off from school, which also meant that Marshall got to finally have a lie-in. Or, at least it seemed that way when I’d decided to venture from the confines of my room around about nine, after having had a brief breakdown over everything I’d woken up to.

The media was in meltdown mode.

Every news outlet from here to Beijing was talking about the pictures that had been captured last night in the car park to the theatre, as well as the one’s I’d taken with that particular girl outside of the women’s bathroom. It seemed that other fans had connected all the dots in the time between my head hitting the pillow and now. 

I had zero idea as to what I was meant to do about it all. My phone was blowing up with notifications from every account that I held, as well as friends and even some family members I hadn’t spoken to since I’d told them where they could shove it the last time they’d come sniffing round looking for a payout. 

It was the most nauseating feeling, believing that you’d lost complete control over a situation.

But it was just as I’d gathered up the courage to go knock on Em’s bedroom door that my phone rang once again. Only this time, it was one of the names I’d been hoping to see. 

“Elia, you there?”

A shaky breath escaped me as I pressed my phone closer to my ear, hastily turning on my heel to head down the stairs. 

“Mila.” I exhaled, but even I could hear the anxiety that lined my voice and it wasn’t because Mila and I had barely spoken since the whole argument we’d had over Lottie. No, this was down to me knowing that things had to be really fucked up because my manager had shared that same wavering tone. “I don’t know what to do. Everything– it’s all just blown up in my face.”

There was a long pause which followed my clumsy reply, I used it to slip out of the back garden door to escape the sudden confining feel the house had started to give me. Which seemed so stupid in hindsight, what with how big it was, but that thought alone allowed me to take another deep breath. 

I shivered at the cold that overwhelmed Detroit in the early throes of winter but didn’t care enough to head back inside to grab a cardigan or even a pair of shoes. My mind honed in on the way my life seemed to be crumbling piece by piece, first with Lottie and her dad, then that whole back and forth thing with Marshall, and now this.

“It’s not as bad as you think.”

Rolling my eyes at the answer Mila gave, I could only huff out a mirthless laugh, stressed beyond belief. 

“Yeah, it’s not like my face is plastered over every gossip rag across the world– oh wait, it is.” I sniped back, “And they’re all painting me out to be Marshall’s next big fling, and if not that, then some fucking groupie. Like I’m not a nominated artist too, as though all I am is someone to mooch off of his fame.”

Mila sighed softly, even after my heated retort, and I could hear it clearly over the rustle of leaves as well the birds that seemed to be chirping in the distance. I tried to let them ground me. “I didn’t mean it like that. It probably does look pretty bad from your end–”

I cut her off with a scoff– so much for trying for a bit of calm. “Bad? Mila, bad would have been me spotted leaving Detroit and people conspiring over why I was here in the first place. Not this.” I dragged a tense hand through my hair, “Em is gonna flip his shit when he sees everything.”

She sighed, again, and I could only rub tiredly at my eyes. “Babe, listen to me. You’ve not ever really had any publicity like this,” Mila started, and before I could think to lash back at that remark, she was already beating me to the punch, “And no, before you say anything, not like that. I know that you don’t want anything out of this whole fiasco, believe me the amount of times I’ve had to suffer through just because your ego wouldn’t let you take anything for free is insufferable. But anyway, I simply meant in the way that you’ve not really had many big knocks or hits like this throughout the press. Sure, your family and your background’s been brought up a lot, but babe, those are just conversation starters for you now, it sort of was back then too. This is all just scarier to you because it’s new.”

I had to take a second to really hear Mila’s words, for them to sink and settle before I could analyse them. In a way, she wasn’t completely wrong. I could at least admit that. Didn't mean that I hadn’t faced my fair share of backlash though, just maybe not on this level? And not over someone I was supposedly dating either, my brain unhelpfully supplied.

I closed my eyes, silently wishing for a cigarette I didn’t have, and then unclenched my jaw.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” I confessed to her quietly, then shivered when another harsh wind blew through the garden. I wrapped an arm around myself, to shelter me from the cold air or how exposed I felt, I didn’t know.

Mila stayed silent too, until I heard a large intake of breath and the sound of a door closing on the other side. “Here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re going to talk to Marshall, you’re going to figure out what it is you want, not just him or his team.” She added as a forethought, knowing me far too well. “Then the pair of you, you and him, can decide how and where you want to take this.”

I exhaled slowly and watched as my breath clouded the air, it made me wonder how cold it might have been over in London. “Right.”

Mila continued on, her familiar lilt taking back the weariness which had homed it minutes earlier, “I mean it’s not like anything’s actually happened, if you want to you two can just ignore it easy, wait for this all to blow over. It’s just gossip.”

My eyes widened and I stilled at her words.

But I must’ve been quiet far too long though, because Mila called my name and suddenly I was forcing myself to blink as I attempted to swallow back the memories of that kiss, of him holding my hand with all the care in the world. 

“Right,” I repeated again, then cursed the way my voice cracked on the vowel.

Mila caught it right away and I felt rather than heard her internalise exactly what that could possibly mean, “You haven’t done anything– right?”

My mouth worked over words that wouldn’t quite come out and then winced when I heard my manager drop the phone to curse heatedly in Spanish.

It took a long minute before Mila had seemingly calmed herself enough to return to the call, time in which I spent worrying my knuckle between my teeth and wondering if everything that had happened with Em was even worth mentioning. If it mattered enough to him for me to voice it now. 

“How long have I been telling you that you need to get back out there, to meet somebody and have some fun? I’m glad you took my advice, really, but I didn’t quite mean wrangle the biggest old-school rapper into your bed whilst holidaying in his mansion!”

I let my head fall into the hand not holding my phone and pinched at the bridge of my nose. I didn’t want to regret it, the things that had happened with Marshall, but Mila was sort of right. What had I really expected to happen between the two of us? He was a Dad, more famous than anyone could hope to be, and a tad bit older… Okay, a fair bit older– a decade, sue me. Hollywood had seen worse.

That wasn’t even it though, how had I yet to consider what the media, the press, the fans would think of it all? I supposed I’d pretty much found out.

“I didn’t sleep with him.”

Mila made an odd sort of noise at my admission which sounded tinny through the speaker, “Don’t lie to me now! Those photos don’t offer much, I’ll give you that, but babe, there was some sort of connection there.”

I fish mouthed again. 

Mila didn’t seem to note the silence, “People are in actual awe over the look one picture managed to capture on his face! There’s no way you haven’t got that man wrapped around your finger.”

Blinking, I tried to recall what image she could possibly be talking about. I hadn’t seen anything of the sort. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Mils. Nothing like that has happened. It was just–” My mouth felt dry, the sort of dry you’d experience after being lost in a desert for days or just swallowed a spoonful of flour.

“Just what?” Mila prodded.

And I forced myself to finish my sentence, stare caught on the dampness that clung to the soles of my feet, “A kiss.”

–

I had a list now. 

Of tasks to complete, one of which warned me to stay off all social media for my own good. Mila’s orders, not my own. But still, I couldn’t quite part with my phone even as I stepped back through the garden door into the kitchen, shivering at the rapid change in temperature and the sick feeling of anxiety that welled inside of me. 

Even with that though, I noticed how the house now seemed to buzz, in a way which had me figuring that I was no longer the only occupant awake. So I swallowed back the lump of worry that sat heavy in my throat and made to trail my way further inside, ignoring the slight chill of tile that followed my feet. 

I found him stood at the very top of the stairs with Rosie hanging off his hip, the silliest of grins plastered across her face which only appeared to brighten upon seeing me. “El!” She called out in excitement before she turned to fix her father with a ‘told you so’ glare, “See, she is awake!”

Marshall rolled his eyes at the rebuttal, but did evidently blow out a huffed chuckle in turn, choosing to let his daughter slip down his side and out of the captive hold he’d had her in for my supposed sake. He shook his head at her before he then turned to me, the exasperated look he’d gifted her disappeared the moment he saw my face. “You good?” He asked me, brow furrowing as Z peered between the pair of us.

“Where’s your phone?” Is all I answered him with.

His expression deepened at the nonanswer, but he scratched his head in thought before he recalled, “Chargin’ downstairs, I think. Died when we got home.”

Home, home, home.

I realised, not for the first time, that I’d taken to thinking of it that way too. Calling it London and not home each time it got brought up.

Swallowing once more, I felt another wave of nausea overwhelm me. Rosie’s head tilted in confusion as she quietly made her way down the staircase, hand sliding over the wooden rail. “I–” I tried, but fumbled for the right words to say. If there even were any. I let go of another breath, “You should go take a look.”

Marshall greeted my words with a look of reservation but did move to step down off the landing, making it to the bottom just as Rosie crowded me, her smaller figure slotting into my side with ease. I allowed a hand to come up and cradle the top of her head, hoping that whatever transpired from this wouldn’t sour things enough to send me back to London early.

And why was that my only hope? Instead of the way this could all impact me and my career, or the people around Marshall?

I didn’t move to follow Em as he made his way into the kitchen, socked feet padding over the tiled floor, much preferring the warmth that radiated from Z as I fought not to worry at my knuckles once more. I didn’t know whether or not I wanted to bear witness to his reaction. 

“You’re freezing.” 

The words caught me by surprise and so I blinked away from where I’d just been staring off into the distance, then peered down at the girl whose arms were wound around me. Rosie had her head tilted back, chin resting on the curve of my arm as she waited for an explanation. 

“Sorry, just stepped outside for a minute,” I apologised to her whilst simultaneously answering the unasked question. It was subconscious, the action to rub a gentle hand up and down her arm in hopes to warm the pair of us up a tad, and Z countered her previous words by burrowing in closer. 

“Are you leaving then?” 

That next question immediately had me frowning, wiping away all the previous doubts that had just been running rampant through my mind. 

“No, not yet.” I assured her softly, peering down at her once again. Her face was half-hidden, blonde hair mussed by sleep, and in that moment she looked so much younger to me. “Why you asking, hoping to get rid of me?” I teased sweetly, hoping that the method wouldn’t send her skittering into her shell and instead give me something of an honest answer.

The girl shook her head against my arm, then shrugged, “Just, you looked sad.”

A sad smile slowly eased over my features at that and I couldn’t help the way I squeezed her tighter. “Busy morning, I think.” I said in comfort, then thought about my next words, “But even if I was sad, doesn’t mean I’d just pack up and leave. Me and you, we’ve bonded, gonna have a hard time getting rid, okay?”

I pinched her side playfully with that, a move that had her squeaking and tripping over her feet to get away from my attack whilst still staying plastered to my side. “Don’t! You’re actually the worst!”

Laughing as she dissolved into giggles too, I relented on the tickling. And it was just as I went to reply that a sound had my head snapping up and over towards the kitchen doorway, heart stilling in my chest at the sight of Marshall stood there, phone in hand, his face void of any emotion.

“We need to talk.”

Rosie appeared to be all too aware of the sudden tension that dragged between us then, as well as the coil of nerves which straightened my spine, because she let her arms slip from my waist and took her hand in mine, squeezing ever so as she turned to look up at me. Obviously confused, she had no words to offer but the sentiment was clear anyway, she cared enough to stand against her Dad without even knowing what was going on.

It threw me completely.

Marshall seemed to catch on to the silent protest too, his blank expression flickering with evident surprise before he managed to unclench his hand from around his phone and drag it over the top of his head. He slumped, the ridgid stress he’d just been wearing melting ever so slightly. “We just gone talk, Z. She ain’t goin’ nowhere, I swear it’s work stuff. Something happened and now we gotta work out how we gone fix it, baby. That’s all.”

Z stared long and hard back at Marshall and the man met her eyes dead on, showing her he only meant the truth. His words seemed to appease some part of her, I deemed, enough to have her tightening her hold on my hand once more before she reluctantly pulled away. 

I only wished that they’d had the same effect on me.

“That mean we’re not having pancakes then?” She wondered as she trailed across the hallway to head towards the kitchen, Em’s shoulders dropped slightly when she approached and he moved to run a hand through her hair.

“Promise is a promise. Jus’ have to wait a little longer, cool?” He answered, gazing down at her before he finally allowed her to slip by after she’d given him a nod. It was with that in which he turned to face me again and I had no idea what was going to go down, let alone how he was going to react. So when he silently gestured his head off to the side, I could only force my feet into following behind him.

We ended up in a small office just off of the living room, one I hadn’t really been in before now and that was decorated sparsely enough to ensure that no one else did either, at least not often.

Marshall took perch at the desk in there, large and mahogany, and leaned across it to start up the computer monitor stationed on its top. I found myself trailing after him, shuffling awkwardly on a dark rug for a second over where to sit before I just rolled my eyes at myself and moved around the desk to sit on its corner, uncaring for the way Marshall’s brows lifted in slight surprise. Because honestly, if we were going to do this then I wanted to see what the fuck the media was rioting over too, and how was I meant to do exactly that from the upholstered cushion sat on the desks opposing side?

He didn’t comment on it, though his eyes did trail over me for a split second before the screen flickered through the usual start up and login. I watched him type in his password, noting how he didn’t much seem to mind me peeking, before my eyes flitted back down to his face, taking in the way the monitor's light flickered over his skin and how his tongue darted out to wet his lower lip.

I wrung my fingers together in a way that would occupy my mind, mouth pursing at the sight of the slightly reddened knuckles I’d abused earlier. My stare must have caught Marshall’s attention too because I startled a tad when he reached out to pause my fidgeting, gaze lingering on the raised skin before the pad of his thumb moved to soothe it. 

Suddenly my tongue felt too big for my mouth and all I could do was stare before his startled gaze flickered up to meet me. It almost appeared as though he hadn’t even realised he’d done it. 

“Z’s okay, right?” I found myself asking him as I cleared my throat after he’d withdrawn his hand.

His sniff filled the silence as his arm jumped over to grab the mouse, now focused on the screen. “She um,” He coughed lightly, the click of the keys filling his tense pause, “She gets a little weary about shit like that, I guess. People leaving. Had a lot of ‘em come in and out of her life, figure it fucked with her a bit.” Marshall admitted gruffly, purposely paying attention to the computer now instead of meeting my eye. 

I continued to watch him though, content to wait. My patience earned me a little more.

“Thought she’d grown outta it though, you know? Used to cry for her mom when she’d drop her off, or when I took her to school. Shit was always worse when I had to tour. Couple years back, she even got upset when Maria, our cleaning lady, moved States. Didn’t come outta her room for days.” He shrugged lightly as he recalled it, acting as though it didn’t much bother him anymore, but I could tell that it was eating away at him still, how much he blamed himself for Rosie’s struggle. “Figure she likes you enough that it’s sort of– I dunno.” He sighed, then waved it all off, desperate to move on it seemed, “You know what, don’t worry about it. I’ll figure it out.”

I wanted to sigh then too, because how could he think that I’d allow that to just slide?

“I’m here for her too, you know.” I heard myself say after a second or two had passed and kept myself from looking over at him to garner his reaction to that particular statement. This was meant to be work. I was just here to work. Though, that reminder had long since grown old. “I get it, being scared to attach yourself to new people in fear that they'll hurt you by leaving too. And Rosie, she’s not messed up for feeling that way, it’s just a coping mechanism. One a lot of kids experience–”

Em scoffed at that and my eyes instantly snapped over to find him shaking his head at me.

I narrowed my eyes a tad, but not unkindly or in defence, just a little perplexed. 

“It’s true. Sure, they might not all have had a childhood like hers or mine, or even yours.” I acquiesced, “But even the kids who have that apple pie type life and grow up with cookie cut families can still be scared about those they love leaving. Like because their Dad works abroad a lot so they don’t see much of him, or how someone forgot to pick them up this one time and made them wait so now they’re fucked up forever.” 

I smiled at the small laugh that escaped from Marshall at that, probably thinking over how normal that had probably been for him as a kid. I got it. “Mind’s weird, man. Kids are adaptable, but they get just as scuffed up as the rest of us. Z’s the same, but she’ll figure it out.”

“Or, jus’ do what you did and hold onto it so tight that people have to fight their way into her life.” Em countered easily, earning an audible gasp from me before he was smirking away and reaching out to poke a finger into my knee, assuring me that it was all in jest, “And don’t call me man, that shit’s weird.”

“Why not? What’s wrong with man?” I protested, grinning now as I started to pester him, “We’re homies, aren’t we? Buddies? Brothers?”

I cackled when he reached up to crowd a hand over my mouth, shaking his head all the while, even as I shimmied to try and escape his onslaught.

“What about bud?” I asked him from over the top of his hand the second I could, trying to steer my head away as I swatted him with my foot in retaliation, “Or dude? Hey, how about bro? Bro’s a good one!”

“Elia.” Marshall warned in a low tone once he finally caught my wrists in his hands, stilling me completely. Though I could see the tiny beginnings of his smile.

My eyes flashed upwards to meet his when he stood up from the desk’s chair, “Yeah?” I only continued to push, hoping that it would get me somewhere. Where though? I had no idea.

“You talk too much.”

My smile was far too smug.

“First time I've ever been told that.” I rebuffed, letting myself lean a little further into his hold.

“Somehow I don’t believe that.”

Humming, my eyes flickered between his own. “What do you want me to call you then?”

Marshall stared back at me unblinkingly for a long second, before his gaze dropped to my mouth then away again. “Guess that’s jus’ another thing we can go ahead and figure out.”

[acesartemis]

day three of @tommykinardweek -> supernatural creatures

for @dark-alice-lilith

“So, do you believe us now?” Tommy growls a bit after the question due to his current ... figure. He still can't hardly believe it and the fur is quite literally staring at him in the face. 

A whine follows the question from a butterscotch-colored furry figure next to him the size of an honest-to-God, come-to-life Direwolf. Tommy leans over to give Evan a reassuring kiss — lick? — to the side of his face.

A human, hysterical laugh bubbles up from Eddie. “This — somehow — y'all are somehow messing with me. I knew those clams weren't — it's got to be — what bruja did you piss off?”

Tommy doesn't even curb the instinct to bare his teeth at the man. He could easily eat him, if he wanted to. Thankfully he didn't—at least not in that way.  Instead, Tommy decides to head-butt Eddie so hard he falls over. “I knew we should have called Hen.”

Eddie rights himself, still snickering. He clicks his tongue and actually pets Tommy's head and when his hand moves just right by his left ear, Tommy wants to downright howl in pleasure. He's saved the embarrassment by another head forcibly knocking into his—Evan was never one to be left out.

The human of the trio laughs again, only this time it's fond. “Okay, okay. I can't forget about you, Buck.”

Evan positively beams as Eddie gives his ears a scratch, tongue lolling out and everything. It's absolutely adorable. “So, if we're stuck like this... What do we do now? We... don't really fit in a car.”

“Or a house,” Tommy chimes in. He resists the urge to scratch himself with his back... paw. He would not be caught dead doing something so… undignified, even if it were only in front of Evan and Eddie. Especially in front of Evan and Eddie.

“Wait, I got it,” Eddie says with a clap. “I wanted to surprise you both with a ski trip over the holidays, but this… whatever, is more important.” 

He pulls out his phone, typing away with his thumbs. “Okay, so Bobby knows we’ll be out for the weekend. Annnd I texted Lucy to let your Cap know.

“This is so weird; I can't believe I’m gonna suggest this, but… I’ll drive and you two just,” he gestures at their wolf forms, “follow… by running, I guess? ‘Cause I don't think even my truck bed will fit you both.”

“Might as well make the most of it if we’re stuck like this.” Evan nudges Tommy’s snout with his own. “Race ya?”

Tommy gives his boyfriend a playful nip. “You're on.”

🐺🐾🐺

Twin blurs of butterscotch and gray follows Eddie's truck for hours as asphalt and metal and glass give way to grand trees in a breathtaking kaleidoscope of yellows and oranges and reds as they enter the Sequoia National Park area.

Eddie pulls up to a grand private cabin. The land is secluded and, Eddie remembers with a snort, “pet-friendly”. Thankfully a former Army buddy of his pulled some strings so that they could crash for however long this event lasted.

The man follows the path behind the cabin on human legs, happy to find the quaint back area to sit. The sun would be setting soon, bringing with it the chill of the night.

As he watches his boyfriends lope back and forth, legs long and strong and sharp jaws playfully nipping at each other, Eddie is struck with envy. Sure, this was a fever dream incarnate and Eddie still couldn't quite believe the two beings—now howling as the moon and stars come out—were real, there was a part of him that yearned to be out there, wild and free, with them. But he wouldn't let himself dwell on the dark path that was bound to take him on and just relaxed, snapping photo and video proof if this wasn't all just in his head.

—It would be just like his head to think up a grand concept and just... leave him out of all the fun—

Stop that.

Enjoy.

🐺🐾🐺

It was no surprise to anyone that Tommy tired out first. Being an actual wolf matched Evan's nigh-insatiable energy to a tee.

As the younger of the two continued his mission of sniffing every tree about the place, Tommy trots over to their third, grinning a wolfish grin, and gives Eddie a large, slobber-filled lick-kiss. The man startles a bit, his eyes adorably droopy.

“Sorry, didn't mean to wake you.”  He sidles over to Eddie, laying out next to him. Eddie's fingers find their way into his fur, akin to his fingers scratching through his or Evan's curls when they're lucky enough to get a quiet night together.

“Buck still... wolfing around?”

“Duh.” 

They share a laugh. Tommy tilts his head at him, frowning at the sight of Eddie clutching his hoodie to his body. They hadn't planned for this impromptu trip, much less the weather. LA nights got chilly, but not like this. “Why don't you go inside?”

“And miss all the fun? 'M fine!”

A low whine rumbles in Tommy's throat and he nudges Eddie with his head. “We'll be fine out here, what with the fur and all. The last thing we need is an Eddie-sicle.”

Eddie huffs, “It's not that cold.”

“And you’re not in protective Army fatigues anymore, either,” Tommy counters. They both knew intimately what desert-cold was, and this was far from it. But now all Eddie was geared with was a hoodie. Tommy also knew Eddie had a stubborn streak that would rival a bull when he wanted.

“C’mere, then. I’ll keep you warm.” If Tommy still had his human brows they’d be waggling.

“Hell no!”

“C’mon, aren’t I soft?”

“Yes.”

“And oh so waaarm!”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Evy, come heeeere,” Tommy calls, deciding to bring in back-up. “Eddie’s cold and won’t snuggle!”

Evan literally bounds over at the call, obedient as ever, tail wagging and tongue hanging lopsided out of his mouth. “Snuggles?!”

“Dammit, Buck, don't you dare!” Eddie warns but is blatantly ignored in favor of Evan (gently) body-slamming Eddie to the ground with his mass in a chaotic mess of kisses. Tommy gleefully joins in, wrapping his larger body around Eddie in equal parts protection from the elements and to ensure he doesn't escape. Eddie tries to wrestle Evan off of him to no avail.

“Okay, okay fine,” he relents with a fake pout, but Tommy is delighted to feel him snuggle back into his fur while Evan shifts to lay his head over Eddie’s body. They cocoon him thoroughly.

The trio are silent after that, taking in the breathtaking view of the clear starry night sky.

They are awoken by their shivering hours later, blessedly three humans again, only now two of them are naked. They high-tail it to the shower.

[ryuki-draws]

Grease is having a bit of Opportunity Mars rover birthday this year (stuck at the old moon base with no hopes of ever returning home, or Earth for that matter). Happy 2nd, bud! ✨💔

[icewindandboringhorror]

Just curious what the average level of personal investment in these sorts of things is. Like, how much do people usually get into silly stuff like this their friends ask of them? etc. etc. Which I know, only surveying a small sample on a very specific website means I'm not getting an exact average idea lol, but.. curious nonetheless .. Maybe reblog for bigger sample size but also this is not very serious at all/not worth a call to action gbhjbhjb

[breadboylovin]

feeling a profound sense of dread tonight unrelated to the ghouls and goblins of the season

[ann-chovi]

It's always when I decide to take a break from posting comic updates so that I can slow down and breathe when inspiration hits and suddenly the next three pages are scripted and planned

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[skrunksthatwunk]

household enemy to the yyh watchthrough number one is the olympics. it's taken us a week to get two episodes into the gamemaster fight

[roaringroa]

they should make a life where you don't have appointments, work, school and scheduled events every single day for months on end

[prentissluvr]

*eye twitches* objectively i know this fic is not bad but the urge to rewrite it is... it's there......

[no-truth-left]

I wanna say that like. I'm having a really fun time writing this and I love the options yall are picking and the way the story is progressing.

Thank yall for playing with me and I hope I am meeting expectations storywise. <333

[youcanthandelthetruth]

Texas 💖