#post canon fanfiction

[wisteriawater]

Technically this is chapter 28 because I do chapters with multiple parts sometimes. I am up to 69k+ words now, goodness. I don't post every upload anymore because then I would clog the tags ^^" Chapter 28 is titled "To think you would outlive me..." In which Thistle fears he is passing away due to a phenomena that no one really understands yet. Post-canon Thistle rehab fic {With many twists}. Description: What makes someone human? Where is the line between monsters and people, and just how thin is it? These questions come to most peoples' minds at some point in their lives, but most people have the luxury of letting them fall to the wayside, completely content to ignore it. The question is just too complicated; nay, even too painful to ponder. However... sometimes the need to answer that question cannot be ignored. When Laios needs to start thinking about leaving behind an heir, he struggles with the very concept of finding someone to do so with. At the time, the question of ‘What makes someone human’ was as far from his mind as could be- and so were the last dregs of the winged lion. Unfortunately, that which is blithely forgotten has a way of rearing its ugly head. Meanwhile, he has been struggling to protect Thistle from the consequences of his past for a year now- but it has not been easy, or even fruitful. What do you do with an ex dungeon lord that fights for numbness? Why is it that Thistle is able to fight for anything after having his desires consumed? {This is a Thistle rehab and Labru heir fic.}

[paintedcrows]

Whenever Bill sees KingOfNJ's fics through Stan's eyes he just thinks they have the same taste in fanfiction (disgusting. unthinkable) continued

[olailamajnoon]

Bruce, who has a problem expressing emotions because he was teased for them in school as the "crazy Wayne kid"

Bruce, who used to clutch Alfred at night and wet himself due to his nightmares.

Bruce, who got flashbacks till his mid-twenties everytime he walked down an alley.

Bruce, who would hug a weeping Dick Grayson and stay with him until the night terrors were over, humming a soft lullaby that Bruce's mother sang for him

Bruce, who hardened his mouth and his life to keep the anger in check after Jason, because he knew if he didn't every criminal would pay.

Bruce, who sees Damian chopping up shrubbery and thinks "I was far worse as a child inside, it's a good thing he's letting it out"

Bruce, who can't walk by a homeless child in the street without calling his special Wayne Foundation liaison (who he keeps on speed dial) and asking her to find "one more spot"

Bruce, who sees Selina petting kittens and robbing the rich and thinks "if I could have had a life with her, that would have been nice"

Bruce, who looks at Cass' x-rays and sees her knit bones and swears to god he will break the bones of whoever's responsible for her upbringing

Bruce, who gives Tim projects that he himself can do faster because he sees attention-starved Tim trying to please him

Bruce, who looks at Clark smiling and thinks of what he can buy for his birthday to make him smile just like that.

Bruce to his parents in their graves after not being able to catch a criminal: I'm sorry. I've failed you. I'll try harder.

People who don't know Bruce: why is that man so unfeeling.

Bad DC writers: idk just that way i guess

[officialspec]

what are we, some kind of league of legends?

[winderlylandchime]

Hi! I'm nearing the end of my qaf re-watch (this time i might actually finish the show in it's entirety, i always stop somewhere during season 5 and haven't seen the finale in over a decade). I'm trying to prepare for the inevitable disappointment of the ending, so i was wondering if you had any fix-it fics you could recommend? Preferably longer ones but any length will be fine 🩷

Hello dear sweet anon! The finale (especially that last shot) is so heart-breaking. I always try to hold in mind that CowLip always meant the ending to be hopeful, that they intended Justin and Brian to remain together, that they had research the plane flight between Pittsburgh and NYC.... still. 513 stings doesn't it? And it's so bittersweet because the "only time" speech is everything, it is, dare I say, ridiculously romantic.

That said, nothing like a fix-it fic! (Some of these are shorter than you're looking for but they're so good I couldn't not include them) (under the cut so my mutuals don't hate me)

I wouldn't marry me either by orphan account, ~8k words, Everyone, including Brian and Justin themselves, assume it will be the sex.

The Love Song of Brian A. Kinney by ipoiledi, ~12k words, It all started because the phone sex was just making things worse.

Queer As Folk Season 6 by qaffangyrl, ~96k words, Timeline: Six Months after 513 (note the tag for minor character death)

All Kinds of Time (series) by @xoxoemynn , ~69k words, Justin may be thriving in New York, but Brian's life is spiraling out of control. When he stands in danger of losing it all -- Justin, his career, and his friends -- will his personal guardian angels, Vic and Judy, be able to reach him in time? Or will time, and his old hang ups, get the best of him?

Only Time (series) by Xie, ~250k words, After moving to New York, Justin makes a plan. Brian hasn't got a chance.

devil_on_your_shoulder27384 has a number of post-canon PWP fics

...and my own fic

beautiful like the darkness between the fireflies by @winderlylandchime , ~20k words, “Please, have a seat.” Brian gestures to the chairs surrounding the large, oval table. He watches Justin give him a tight-lipped grin as he shrugs his arms out of his coat and lays it on a chair and slides into the one next to it. Jerking himself back to attention, Brian walks around to the head of the table, wakes the projector up, and begins his presentation. This is where he shines and he’s pleased, relieved, that his first contact with Justin after all these years is on his turf. That it’s in a setting where he can be masterful, where he can be in control.

[carolinanadeau]

"this female character is underdeveloped" TO YOU. I can read subtext and I know all about her backstory and her rich inner life. also she told me personally

[happypeachsludgeflower]

SVSSS BRAINWAVE JUST HIT! I HAD A THOUGHT ™

An average modern person transmitigates into SVSSS. Mind you, I specifically mean SVSSS and not PIDW. That’s right, our protagonist awakens to find themselves as a NPC in the world of Scum Villain Self Saving System. And they think to themselves upon waking up, “Oh, I’m an NPC in a xianxia novel with a happy ending! Cool!!” and goes about their life being a background nerd geeking out about plants, and monsters, and cultivation in general, and neat flying swords.

But this is a world of sex pollen and wife plots and unfortunately the cure for a lot of diseases is duel cultivation with a heavenly demon, and we all know who that demon is going to end up marrying, so it’s best to mess around with meta cultivation knowledge and prep for the worst case scenario, and honestly, they may as well solve some of the minor issues in the plot while their at it, so they invent some new cultivation techniques from some of those nifty svsss fanfictions they read while alive (I’m specifically thinking of this fic’s explanation of duel cultivation and cauldrons, but other weird cultivation methods could be used from other fanfics and xianxia books), so they can tidy up some things.

For instance, is it really necessary for Zhuzhi-lang to be stuck as a weird snake creature for nearly twenty years? Is it really needed for Yue Qingyuan to have crippled cultivation due to his sword?? Does Tianlang Jun have to be stuck under a mountain and then escape only to slowly die in a decomposing body??

They know they can’t change everything without the system interfering, but small nudges should help right? After all, they’re just a background NPC and Shen Yuan will show up eventually and everyone will fall in love with him and no one will even notice the NPC’s existence even if they had noticed something was up during their miraculous healing and salvation spree.

So they go about fixing those things. They catch Zhuzhi-lang unawares and feed him a sun and dew mushroom seed while he’s confused and do some funky cultivation shenanigans and pat him on the head cause he’s really such a cute weird snake creature and give him some vague warning about not trusting in laws and then fucks off to somewhere else.

I’m still caught up on Metagaming’s concept of duel cultivation transactions where you give and take—like taking something from someone’s cultivation, not just power, and returning something else—and keep getting stuck in a brainrot loop of the NPC taking some bloodmite powers from Zhuzhi-lang when they gave him a fully humanoid form that’s not reliant on Tianlang Jun. So my main idea for how the NPC plots to hold Yue Qingyuan in place is feeding him lesser bloodmites (not full ones because they only took a minor ability and can only hold someone for a few minutes before the bloodmites die), while they hold Yue Qingyuan still long enough to draw some ritual to heal his soul and separate it from Xuan Su. But honestly, I’m sure other ideas could apply here too. My Metagaming brainrot is just too strong right now to think of any.

And Tianlang Jun? Simple. Zhuzhi-lang’s got a humanoid form and can easily get the sun and dew mountain flowers for himself. They can’t stop the man from being imprisoned entirely. The system says no since Luo Binghe needs a dramatic entrance. So while they can’t stop the tragedy, they can put some pieces into play for an early escape, maybe a new plan to get him a better body once’s he’s back, and be a ferry for Su Xiyan’s body to revive her at some point as well.

It’s nice being an unnoticeable NPC, isn’t it? You can do whatever you want and no one’s going to know!!

Except. Someone does notice (as we all could have seen coming). And Shen Qingqiu is suspicious as fuck of this obnoxious Shidi because he notices everyone due to paranoid, and he’s even MORE suspicious of the mysterious character that healed Yue Qingyuan’s soul (and wasn’t that a doozy of a realization to have when Yue Qingyuan burst into his bamboo house one day freaking out because some disguised, powerful cultivator somehow did the impossible after ambushing him and holding him down as they healed his soul, and Shen Qingqiu is still reeling from learning that Yue Qingyuan’s SOUL was damaged trying to save Xiao Jiu and the stubborn asshole never told him because he apparently assumed Xiao Jiu knew there wasn’t a single universe where Qi ge didn’t try to come for him). And so yea, Shen Qingqiu is suspicious as all hell and starts snooping and plotting to catch the mysterious cultivator by combing through Cang Qiong because whoever it is has to have an in at the sect somewhere to know about Yue Qingyuan’s soul.

And that’s not even mentioning how suspicious Zhuzhi-lang and Tianlang Jun are now. They might not have realized what that strange cultivator did when they did it, or understood the cryptic in law mention, but they certainly have some suspicions now that Tianlang Jun was as imprisoned by in law like people, and Zhuzhi-lang kept his humanoid form just fine without Tianlang Jun, and now the hunt is ON for the mysterious benefactor, so they can repay the kindness and find out what the fuck is going on.

The NPC is, of course, oblivious to all of this going on and goes about their merry way thinking they’re being the Best ™ at being lowkey. They are SO good at being inconspicuous!! They deserve an award really!!

And then. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t qi deviate.

Shen Yuan doesn’t show up.

Oh shit, the NPC thinks to themselves as they begin to panic. They even check Shen Qingqiu out themselves to see if it’s Shen Yuan just being really good at acting. Maybe he was a better actor in the book than he gave himself credit for or something?? But no. That’s Shen Qingqiu all right. Shen Yuan is missing in action, and someone has to fix the plot of Cang Qiong is doomed.

Thus begins the NPC’s journey to try and unobtrusively fix PIDW’s child abuse problems (that they’re unaware are already fixed), save Liu Qingge from his qi deviation in Ling Xi Caves, make sure Luo Binghe doesn’t raze the sect to the ground someday and hopefully find him some sort of husband replacement to keep him under control when he does return, possibly dispose of the Huan Hua Palace Master at some point because he’s vile trash, and did I mention there are multiple man hunts for this poor oblivious dude currently on going??

And the most important question for them to solve? Where the fuck did Shen Yuan go??

Hmm I wonder where that man could have gone.

[children-of-moss]

Writing johnlock fanfic on my calculator, now I just have to see how to access ao3 from it

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 132

Geralt is walking through a town when he senses something off. He glances up right as he watches a man leap out a window on the third floor. Geralt effortlessly catches him, holding him in a bridal carry. "Oh! My hero!" The man says to Geralt, looking at him with awe. "YOU FUCKER! JUST WAIT UNTIL I GET DOWN THERE!" Another man screams from the window. "What's going on?" Geralt asks, and the man in his arm flushes. "Fucked his wife." "That'll do it." "Indeed." Geralt sets the man down, and watches him get a headstart running from the husband. It isn't until later that night that Geralt realizes the man he caught didn't mention anything about Geralt being a witcher. Perhaps it was the shock and adrenaline. Perhaps he didn't even fully see Geralt, his mind was too focused on surviving. Months later, Geralt is tacking up Roach to leave town when a familiar blur busts into the stables, and leaps into a pile of hay nearby. A man enters after a minute, raving mad, holding a bottle. "Where is he!?" "Where is who?" Geralt asks, coolly, and watches the man's temper fizzle out into apprehension. "N- Nobody. Sorry for bothering you, mister witcher." and the man scurries off. Geralt turns to the haystack and watches as his acquaintance in bright clothing crawls out, hay still stuck in the creases of his clothes and the strands of his hair. "His wife, too?" "His son, actually." "Mm." "Thank you for helping me again." "I didn't do much." Still, the colorful man flicks a coin to Geralt, and then races out. Huh. The man recognized him. And the other man, the one who chased him, had even called Geralt a witcher. And yet the man was still not scared. He even thanked Geralt. Nobody ever thanks Geralt. Another few months later, Geralt is setting up camp when he senses something in the trees. He readies to fling a knife up there, only to see- The man again. He starts very awkwardly trying to climb down, before falling flat on his ass on the ground. "...Hello again." "Hello, my dear witcher!" "Why were you in the tree?" "Oh, I was chased here-" "Of course you were." "Excuse me? What is that supposed to mean?" "I've only met you a few times, but every time I have, you're running from a man who is a relative of someone you've fucked. Out with it, what was it this time? Daughter? Husband?" "Mother." "I can s-" "And his father." "..." "They were a very adventurous couple." And despite it all, Geralt laughs. He throws his head back and cackles. He's never laughed so hard in his life. "I'm Jaskier." The man - Jaskier - introduces himself as he wipes dust and leaves off of his doublet. "I'm Geralt." "Would you mind if I stay with you for the night, Geralt?" "I'm a witcher." "I'm a bard! Glad we're past that." "Of course you're a bard." "Of course you're a witcher." "You already knew I was a witcher." "Then why bring it up when I said I wanted to stay?" "Nobody wants to stay with a witcher." "Well then I suppose I am no longer Jaskier, and my name is now Nobody, dear friend." Jaskier confuses Geralt, but it's not like he'll stay forever, right? Right?

[linkspooky]

I'm excited to post this commission by @ oakyvii of a future scene in my Azula redemption / Azulaang fanfic. It's are moment of Zuko and Azula getting along as they wander the palace grounds.

if you're interested please check out my fic here on AO3.

[gothamite-rambler]

Lucid Harvey Dent being fatherly to Jason Todd

Harvey Dent: Hey Red Hood, Batman, white Robin.

Red Robin: Is that what they call me?

Harvey: Well it helps me differentiate you two since I think you're both called Robin.

Red Robin: That... Makes sense and honestly makes me feel a lot better.

Red Hood: Are we talking to Two-Face or lucid Harvey?

Harvey: Lucid Harvey. You're the kid that survived... again it's really good to see you, you look very healthy.

Red Hood (sniffling): I needed that today.

Batman growled with anger, rubbing his forehead frustrated.

Batman: We didn't come here so you can make him cry.

Red Hood: I'm not crying!

Harvey chuckled and takes a sip from his tea cup.

Harvey: What you here for? I can talk for a few hours, I'm getting better at staying in reality.

Red Hood: Oh okay, that's great! Before we start, I wanted to give you this coin.

Red could flipped the coin through the cell bars and Harvey caught it with ease he examined the coin and saw that it was a cute novelty coin he could flip.

Harvey: Aww that's neat. It's marked decision coin and one side says 'hell yeah' and the other one 'fuck no'. Two face will like this. Thanks kid.

Red Hood: I can't do this... I can't do this. He's so fatherly.

Red Hood sniffled and walked off to have a moment alone. Red Robin chuckled when he saw Batman glaring at Harvey, but it was hidden by his mask. He patted him on the shoulder.

Red Robin: Sorrows, prayers.

Batman: Shut up.

pt 1

[natalievoncatte]

| This is an act of pure self indulgence, because this one made me sad.

This was a new thing, fragile and beautiful. These moments had always been awkward before- Kelly wasn’t often at the Tower, but when she was she would give Alex the classic gift for luck and Nia and Brainy would have their little moment and Lena would awkwardly stand there and wish Kara good luck or something before they all ran off to fight the alien or… whatever.

Now it was Lena’s turn and she was going to savor it. She sauntered up to Kara, enjoying the look of surprise on everyone’s faces as she placed a soft, chaste kiss on her lover’s lips. Kara deepened it, bracketing Lena’s waist with her powerful hands. Standing there in her boots and cape, Kara was like a storybook night, even grinning like a teenager.

“What the hell was that?” Alex blurted.

“You all do it. Can’t I give my girl a good luck kiss?” said Lena.

Alex gaped at her. Nia began to giggle and Brainy nodded slowly, a secret smile on his face.

“How long?” Kelly asked.

“About five years,” said Lena, “it just took a while to figure it out.”

Kara nuzzled her nose into Lena’s hair and a deep rumble buzzed in her chest as she purred in delight.

“Is she purring?!” said Kelly.

“She does that,” Alex sighed. “Come on everybody, cowboy up and let’s get this guy bagged and tagged. I want to be back here for our victory dance in twenty.”

Lena stood next to Kelly and watched them leave.

“Have you ever thought about going with them?” said Kelly. “You’re a billionaire witch, you could probably-“

They were both cut off by the resounding boom behind them, and Lena whirled as a portal opened right in the middle of the Tower.

Lena watched in shock as Kara walked out. Not her Kara, another Kara from another timeline, a sickly, wounded woman with half her face and her arm and leg missing, replaced by sleek blue metal, and a blazing chunk of Kryptonite where her heart should be.

Kelly let out a shocked yelp and danced back, but Lena stepped forward.

“She won’t hurt us,” said Lena.

Then, she saw what Kara was carrying. Who she was carrying.

The Lena in her arms was not a mirror image. She was older, thinner, short hair streaked with gray and a patch over one eye, and she hung limp in Kara’s arms.

“Help her,” Kara rasped in her mechanical growl. “Please, Lena. Don’t let her die.”

“Come on,” Lena said, to Kelly. “You’re a doctor, you can help me.”

“I’m a psychologist, Lena.”

“Fine, you’re smart and you have hands. Kara, bring her to the medbay.”

“You’ll have to show me. We didn’t have one of these in my world.”

Lena nodded and led them down to the level below and directed Kara to lay… Lena on one of the beds and waved for Kelly to bring her instruments.

“What happened?”

“There was another me there,” said Kara. “She was wrong, broken… not like me. She took over her world, her Lena died, she kept mine like a pet.”

Lena looked at her.

“The Kryptonite has its uses,” Kara said, coldly.

Lena pressed a hand to her other self’s shoulder, shaking her gently.

“Lena,” said Lena. “Lena, can you hear me?”

“She has a pulse,” said Kelly, “but it’s faint. She’s breathing.”

“The Other,” said Kara. “She said she implanted some kind of device in her chest, triggered it before I…”

The Lena on the table convulsed, foamy spittle spraying from her mouth. It took Lena and Kelly to keep her from bucking off the table as Kara clutched the side of her head and wailed in rasping torment.

“Please don’t let her die, I can’t live without her. Please not now please.”

“She’s not going to die,” said Lena.

At that very moment, Kara -her Kara- walked into the medbay with Alex. As she approached, the protective Kryptonite suit formed and snapped into place around her.

Alex drew her alien pistol and aimed at the Other Kara.

“Get away from them.”

“Alex, no,” Lena shouted, stepping between them.

Her Kara gently pushed Alex’s arm down, sweeping her aim away.

“What happened to you?”

Other Kara rasped, “Lex. Killed me. Metallo protocol. Sent Lena to the phantom zone. Help her.

Alex holstered her weapon and rushed over, gently moving Kelly aside.

“Fuck, she’s not breathing, something is choking her. We need to get a breathing tube in.”

“Lena, do you have your watch?” said Kara. Her Kara.

“Yes.”

“The Fortress. Now.”

Lena nodded and stepped away from the table, activating her portal watch. The portal boomed open and Kara gently shouldered her cyborg doppleganger aside and took the dying Lena in her arms, and rushed through the portal, and Lena followed.

The cold was a shock but Lena didn’t care as the adrenaline roared in her veins.

“Follow me,” Kara said, before blurring away into the Fortress.

Lena ran after her, Alex and Kelly in tow.

“What is this place?” Kara rasped.

“The Fortress of Solitude,” said Lena. “Kara’s cousin built this place with Kryptonian technology from his pod.”

“Cousin?” said the cyborg. “Pos?”

“Don’t you have all this stuff on your Earth?” said Alex.

“No. I was teleported to my Earth, not sent aboard a pod. There was only enough energy for me… Kal-El was supposed to join me but…”

“He’s here,” said Lena. “In our world, he lived and became a hero like you. He’s the Superman.”

Cyborg Kara stumbled, skidding to a stop as she stared up at the massive statues of Jor-El and his wife, Lara Lor-Van. Clark’s parents.

They finally caught up to Kara, who placed Lena gently in one of the pods and pulled down the canopy. A soft hiss of air was followed by a hollow thrum as the machine came to life.

“She’s in stasis,” said Kara. “I’ll run scans and we can collect samples, find out what’s wrong.”

Cyborg Kara let out a strange, rasping sound, pained and guttural. She was sobbing.

Kara, still protected by her suit, stepped in and put her arms around her counterpart, pulling her into a hug.

“We’re going to save her. I promise.”

“Please. Please just let me speak to her one more time.”

“We’ll do more than that. I promise.”

“Kara,” said Lena. “Let me look at her.”

Kara stepped aside. Lena stepped close to the cyborg, a deep pang of sadness exploding in her chest as the broken woman turned away.

“Don’t look at me.”

“I have to if I’m going to fix you.”

“Fix me?”

“I can replace the Kryptonite as a power source for your cybernetics, repair some of this damage. If you’ll let me.”

She looked at Lena uncertainly. Kara put a hand on her shoulder.

“Your Lena is going to need you, and you don’t deserve this pain. Let us help you.”

“…alright.”

“Alex,” said Kara. “Take the portal back to the tower. Call everyone. I’m going to send a message to Clark on Argo.”

Lena led Cyborg Kara away to another lab and motioned for her to sit down, then began going over her with the benefit of Kryptonian technology.

“My God,” Lena whispered.

The cyborg had to be in constant agony. Her mechanical components had taken damage her flesh would have shrugged off. When she took a blood sample, she found that the very Kryptonite that kept her alive was turning her blood corrosive, and her superhuman healing and a healthy dose of nanites were keeping it in balance, but did nothing to spare her the pain of the radiation.

It was a losing battle. She would eventually rot from the inside.

“I need you to lie down, and to trust me.”

She began by fabricating a new power source. The Kryptonite had never been essential to the Metallo Protocol- the point had been to make the subject deadly to Superman.

Once she had it online and modified to fit into the power plant on Kara’s chest, it was simply a matter of carefully lifting the Kryptonite core out and swapping out the connections. Once she had the wiring done, all she had to do was lock the power supply in place.

Lena sealed the Kryptonite behind a Kryptonian force field, containing its radiation.

Once she did, Cyborg Kara sucked in a sharp, shocked breath.

“It doesn’t hurt,” she whispered, “it doesn’t hurt.”

“I’m not done,” Lena said, gently. “If there’s one thing I know, it’s my own work.”

It took hours. She started on the most painful parts for Kara, carefully repairing and rebuilding joints and connections between her organic and mechanical systems. It really was a wonder. Her counterpart was a genius.

Obviously.

She fixed the speaker in her throat last, making her voice clearer if not perfect.

“Thank you,” Kara murmured. A tear of dark blood flowed down her cheek and her chest shook with relief. “Part of me was afraid I’d die before she wakes.”

“I wouldn’t let that happen.”

“I left her alone, Lena. She was trapped in that awful place and the… other… me was a monster. She hurt my Lena.”

“Kara,” said Lena.

“I did something terrible. I had to, she made me. She made me.”

Lena gently dabbed the crimson streak from her cheek. “Hush. It’s okay. It’s over now, you’re safe with us.”

Cyborg Kara swallowed and looked at her, just looked at her, and Lena felt a jolt ripple through her. She looked just like her Kara, looking at her as if she made the sun rise.

“Come on, let’s see where we are with, um, me,” said Lena.

The mood was somber when they walked back into the chamber. Kara no longer needed her Kryptonite resistant suit, so it didn’t activate.

Lena’s counterpart lay in the stasis pod like some futuristic Snow White, eyes closed, frozen. Cyborg Kara pressed her intact hand to the glass.

Kara put her hand on it.

“I won’t give up on her,” Kara promised. “I swear it.”

“I know you won’t,” said the cyborg. “You’re me.”

Alex stormed into the room.

“Okay,” said Alex. “Kara, I called in a favor. Can we move this pod?”

“If we have to,” said Kara. “Why?”

“We’re taking her to Themyscira,” said Alex.

Yes, I will write a third one, and probably publish this on AO3. I can’t let it go, lol.

[paintedcrows]

Revelations - Little peek at a longer continuation to my Stan & Bill accidental internet buddies comic!

After the reveal, Stan initially doesn't want to tell Ford his (former) internet best friend was Bill Cipher, because he doesn't want him to worry. Stan later doesn't want to tell Ford because he (and Bill) would rather die.

[fyeahnix]

Sevika Hockey AU where Sevika is the team enforcer and Reader had been traded to the team in a legendary deal as their new star player.

------

The game had been close all night. Physical, too. High-sticking and cross-checks under the referee's noses drew out the nastiest insults from the crowd. You saw and heard and felt it all.

But you tuned it out. You had a job to do.

The Zaun Wolves needed an experienced star player added to the roster to help mentor their rising rookie hopeful, and in an odd turn of events, the Noxus Generals decided to part ways with you, the player they'd drafted with the number one pick only five years ago, for a draft haul in the off-season.

After a rocky rookie season and a sophomore slump, you were on the upswing in your career. You'd posted some record statistics during your time with the Generals and judging by the two goals you'd achieved tonight, you'd say the Piltover Progressors were learning that you lived up to your reputation.

It was no secret in the league that Zaun had beef with Piltover as rivals, but no one informed you just how much the Progressors hated the Generals. To them, you were the bastard child of both, and they were keen on making you feel every bruise in your first bout this season.

This team was fucking ruthless. No only were they trying to box you out from getting the puck, but when you did manage to snatch it away, another player would check you against the boards with their entire body weight and sneak in an illegal hit to go with it. And Janna bless the rookie Vi for coming to your defense. She was scrappy and never backed down from a fight, but she lacked the muscle mass to take the bigger players down completely. Still, you appreciated her effort.

Your saving grace, however, was the large woman sitting anxiously in the penalty box whose eyes locked with yours whenever you skated by. Sevika was one of the older vets on an already fairly young team, and the team's one and only enforcer. You learned over the off-season that while she didn't speak much and wasn't the best player on the Wolves, the team listened wholeheartedly to her wisdom and rallied behind her when it mattered. Much different to the militancy you experienced on the Generals.

Your defenders did their damnedest job keeping the puck away from the Progressors during the penalty. The penalty clock wound down to the last fifteen seconds just as you saw an opportunity to seize the puck and take a shot on goal.

You launched yourself across the ice to gather the puck. With quick stick work, you coiled back for a slapshot and before the end of your stick collided with the puck, a heavy body slammed into you. You lost balance and tumbled to the ice, losing the puck. They'd knocked the wind out of you, and you struggled to stand as the crowd yelled about another missed charging call.

You stood, finally, just in time for Sevika to hop out of the penalty box a second before stoppage of play. She rolled over to you and gave you a once-over.

“You good?” she asked.

You shook your head. “I'll be fine. They're startin’ to piss me off though.”

She nodded. “Gotchu.”

You skated into position behind your center for a face-off near your goal. Play resumed with your center winning the bout and passing over to Vi who took the puck to the other side of the ice. You followed. She passed it to you, and you played keep away with it before passing back to the center. The defender who tagged you grew sick of watching the clock and took it up on herself to check you into the boards when the puck came flying back to you. You lost it in the scuffle.

When you recovered, you saw Sevika sailing over to the defender, grabbing her by the jersey to pull her back.

Sevika then dropped her stick and gloves.

The defender followed suit.

The crowd hollered and screamed, went wild as the two danced around each other on skates.

The defender took a couple of feint jabs, but Sevika didn't fall for it. She kept her guard up and when the defender missed a big swing, Sevika followed up with a sharp uppercut. She grabbed the front of the defender's jersey and held her in place as she pummeled the defender with a flurry of right fists to the cheek and jaw. Her blows echoed off the ice, somehow overpowering the deafening crowd. The defender tried to no avail to fight back, but managed to sneak in a few lucky hits to make Sevika bite her own tongue.

The defender stumbled down, and finally, the referee broke up the fight for another stoppage of play.

Sevika grinned at the crowd, circling the ice with a bloody mouth. With one last glare at the defender, she yelled words that reassured your growing trust in her.

“Yeah, try that shit again and see what I do!”

On her way to the penalty box, she gave you a quick wink before slamming back inside to sit down.

Most of your team were slow to warm up to you during the off-season when you arrived in Zaun. Sevika had been the slowest. She acknowledged you, sure, but actually talking to you outside of work-related topics was like pulling teeth. It wasn't until she stumbled upon you skating around the ice in the brisk hours of the morning did she make the effort to engage. She'd always been first one in, last one out, and for once, someone had her beat.

You loved what you did—the juxtaposition of gracefully gliding across ice with the heaviness of pads protecting your person—but nothing came easy. You were smaller than the average player and faster because of it, but what you couldn't accomplish in raw strength, you made up for it in accuracy and finesse with the puck at your blade. But shooting a frozen piece of rubber into a goalie's five-hole took practice. Ten thousand hours of it. You'd told Sevika then why you were there and while the acknowledgement she gave you then was nothing but a gruff scoff and quick smile, her demeanor towards you changed from then on.

You came to learn that she valued nothing more than hard work and dedication. You weren't some gifted player with natural-born talent with access to the best resources at your disposal. You were you—an Ionian who had worked their ass off from sun up to sun down to have any hopes of being the best player in the league.

As the clock wound down to the final five minutes, you checked the scoreboard. Sevika's penalty time would take you down to the final three and you only had to endure from there.

The Progressors took their timeout. You locked eyes with Sevika for two long seconds during the team huddle, who only gave you the faintest of nods, an action that only said “I got you.”

Your opponents kept up the pressure but laid off the dirty plays for the rest of the game. The message was loud and clear to them: fuck with you and they'd answer to Sevika.

------

taglist: @gaudesstuff @archangeldyke-all @abitohoney @sexysapphicshopowner @iamaboringrattat

@ash-fall7 @the-anonmaton @peanutbutterprincess @thesevi0lentdelights @kylorey25

@thegothicchangeling @slut4sevika

[daphnalia]

and they were galpals

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

i just imagine mc loving driving sebastian up the wall by whispering things like I want you inside me or I want to taste you before walking away like nothing all day sebastian and his will power are holding on by a thread

One of Those Days | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

ahhhh anon thank you for this request I had sooo much fun torturing Seb while writing this. I hope you enjoy it too!!

Words: ~5,500

Tags: Implied Smut, Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, Post Canon, Seventh Year, Angst, Teasing, Longing, Established Relationship

Friday mornings always held a certain promise for Sebastian. The week’s end brought the light at the end of the tunnel: no more late-night study sessions, no looming deadlines, and—best of all—plans for the weekend. And this weekend was shaping up to be exceptional.

He was seated at the Slytherin table across from Ominis, who was currently buttering a piece of toast with his usual meticulous care. Sebastian leaned back, cradling his coffee, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Why are you so smug this morning?” Ominis asked without looking up, his tone laced with suspicion.

Sebastian chuckled. “It’s Friday. The weekend awaits. And tomorrow’s plans? Impeccable.” He leaned in conspiratorially, lowering his voice. “She got me tickets for the Puddlemere United match. Front row.”

Ominis raised an eyebrow, still focused on his toast. “Ah, yes. Your doting girlfriend, endlessly spoiling you. Do remind me how the universe decided that you deserved her?”

“Still trying to figure that out myself,” Sebastian replied, taking a sip of his coffee. He grinned despite the jab. Ominis had been endlessly teasing him about your relationship since it had started over a year ago, but Sebastian couldn’t blame him. He still felt like he was getting away with something by having you in his life.

His gaze drifted to the Great Hall’s double doors for the third time in as many minutes. You were always late to breakfast—perpetually running behind in the morning.

“She’s late,” Ominis said flatly.

“She’s always late,” Sebastian replied, unable to keep the affection out of his voice. “You’d think by seventh year she’d have mastered the concept of time.”

“She must have overslept,” Ominis mused, as if it weren’t the obvious explanation. “Again.”

“She was up late,” Sebastian said defensively. “Studying."

“Is that what she told you?” Ominis asked, tilting his head with a knowing smirk. "Let's be honest, she was probably off fighting acromantulas in the forest again."

Sebastian opened his mouth to reply, but then he spotted you slipping through the doors, looking every bit as radiant as he’d expected. His heart did its usual stupid flip at the sight of you.

You glanced around the room, spotting him instantly. That smile widened, and you started toward the Slytherin table.

“Speak of the devil,” Ominis huffed a laugh, though Sebastian barely heard him. His attention was fixed entirely on you as you approached.

“Morning, boys,” you greeted, slipping into the seat beside Sebastian as though you weren’t a solid twenty minutes late. “Miss me?”

Sebastian leaned closer, brushing his shoulder against yours. “Always. Though I was starting to wonder if you’d gotten lost.”

“Got caught up,” you replied breezily, reaching for a piece of toast. “You know how it is.”

Ominis sighed. “No, we don’t. Some of us value punctuality.”

You smirked at him, your eyes glinting with mischief. “And yet, I still manage to charm you both despite my flaws. A talent, really.”

“Somehow, I don’t think it’s charm so much as sheer persistence,” Ominis replied dryly, but there was a flicker of a smile tugging at his lips.

Before you could reply, Imelda Reyes appeared behind him, her usual air of impatience in full force.

“Ominis, did you finish the notes for Professor Binns’ essay?” she asked brusquely, tapping her foot as if she had somewhere more important to be.

Ominis sighed heavily. “Yes, Imelda. Not that I understand why you insist on taking history so seriously. You do realize it’s impossible to impress a ghost?”

As Ominis turned his attention to Imelda’s complaints, you leaned toward Sebastian, the faint scent of your shampoo teasing him as you spoke just low enough for him to hear.

“You know,” you murmured, “I had a dream about you last night.”

Sebastian froze, the casual sip of coffee he’d been mid-swig nearly going down the wrong pipe. He coughed, turning his head away to avoid choking outright. When he finally managed to compose himself, he looked at you, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“And what, exactly, was this dream about?” he asked, keeping his voice even.

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you picked up your teaspoon, delicately stirring your tea, your gaze fixed on the swirling liquid as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. When you finally lifted your eyes to meet his, you tilted your head, your lips curving into a slow, deliberate smile.

“Nothing appropriate for breakfast conversation,” you replied sweetly, dragging the edge of the spoon between your lips.

Sebastian’s brain short-circuited. He stared at you, a faint pink creeping up the back of his neck as you set the spoon down with an air of innocence. You went back to buttering your toast like you hadn’t just shattered his ability to think coherently.

“Everything all right, Sebastian?” Ominis asked, his attention back on him now that Imelda had left.

Sebastian cleared his throat. “Fine,” he said quickly. Too quickly.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, biting into your toast to hide your grin. Ominis raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but didn’t press further.

You sipped your tea serenely, but Sebastian could feel the amusement radiating off you in waves. He knew that look. The playful light in your eyes, the subtle curve of your lips—it was the look you always got when you were about to cause trouble. And Merlin, it was only breakfast, but you’d already decided to make this one of those days.

He sighed internally, doing some quick mental math.

It lined up. Of course, it did.

Three weeks ago, you’d asked him to come with you to the apothecary, dragging him along while explaining that you needed to restock ingredients for a potion you brewed monthly. He had listened with genuine interest, mostly because you had a knack for making even mundane things captivating. You’d laughed when he asked a few questions, calling him “endearingly clueless for someone so brilliant,” and gone on to share more details about how the potion worked to ease period pains. But now, as he connected the dots, realization dawned with the weight of inevitability.

You were ovulating.

Sebastian’s stomach did a little flip, and a faint, involuntary heat crept up his neck. That explained everything: your heightened playfulness, the way you leaned just a little closer, the way your teasing had an edge that sent sparks skittering down his spine. You were always a minx—bold, confident, and unrepentantly mischievous—but there was something about these days that tipped you from charming troublemaker to full-blown menace. And now that he’d caught on, he knew exactly what kind of day this was shaping up to be.

He was in trouble.

The rest of breakfast passed in a blur. You kept your hands to yourself, but every glance, every comment, you sent his way held that same spark. It was enough to make him want to tug you into an empty corridor and—

“Ready for class?” Your voice broke through his spiraling thoughts, cheerful as ever. You rose from your seat, brushing crumbs from your skirt as if you hadn’t spent the last fifteen minutes planting suggestive landmines in his brain. He swallowed hard and nodded, pushing his chair back to stand.

Ominis muttered something about Sebastian being unusually quiet, but Sebastian waved him off, claiming he was still waking up. A complete lie—he was wide awake now.

As the three of you made your way to Charms, Sebastian tried to steel himself. He knew better than to let you get under his skin this early in the day. If he gave in to your antics now, you’d win—and you loved to win.

The moment you slid into the seat beside him, he felt the familiar brush of your knee against his under the desk. He told himself it was unintentional until you shifted just enough to press against him more deliberately. His gaze flicked to you, but you were already pulling out your parchment, looking perfectly innocent.

When Professor Ronen began the lecture, Sebastian attempted to focus. It lasted all of five minutes before you leaned toward him, your lips brushing the shell of his ear.

“Your concentration is admirable, really,” you whispered, the soft warmth of your breath sending a shiver down his spine.

His quill faltered mid-stroke, leaving a jagged mark across the parchment. He turned his head, intending to glare at you, but you were already sitting back, your expression unreadable as you scribbled down notes, head tilted in concentration, the very picture of academic diligence. But then he felt it—your hand, light as a feather, brushing against his thigh under the table. His breath hitched. You didn’t react, didn’t even glance his way. Instead, your quill kept moving steadily across the parchment as though you hadn’t just set his pulse racing.

Your fingers rested there for a moment, almost as if testing the waters, before you began to trace slow, deliberate circles against the fabric of his trousers. Sebastian swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he gripped his quill. He tried to will himself to focus, to block out the sensation, but you didn’t stop. In fact, you leaned slightly closer, your arm brushing his as you added a flourish to your notes.

“Comfortable?” you murmured, your voice low enough that no one else could hear.

Sebastian glanced at you sharply, his eyes narrowing in warning, but you didn’t look at him. The only sign of your mischief was the faintest twitch at the corner of your lips.

His hand twitched, tempted to grab yours and stop you before you pushed him any further, but he knew better. Drawing attention to what you were doing would only give you more satisfaction. So instead, he gritted his teeth and leaned slightly away, his voice a hushed growl. “Behave.”

You finally turned to him, feigning wide-eyed innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Seb,” you said, your tone sticky sweet. “I’m just taking notes.”

The corners of your lips quirked upward, and Sebastian let out a slow exhale. You were relentless, and this was only the beginning. He shifted slightly in his seat, praying for the class to end quickly before he did something that would land both of you in detention.

But then your hand slid higher, and all thoughts of self-control vanished in a haze of heat and frustration.

“Are you trying to get us caught?” he muttered, his voice strained. His hand moved under the desk to still yours.

You leaned in slightly, your lips close to his ear. “What’s the fun in that?” you whispered, your breath warm against his skin.

Sebastian’s jaw clenched, his knuckles white as he gripped his quill. He managed to hold on until Professor Ronen called for the end of class . You finally withdrew your hand, gathering your things with a pleased smile that only deepened the blush on his cheeks.

When Defense Against the Dark Arts rolled around, Sebastian had convinced himself that you’d already done your worst for the day. Charms had been a test of endurance, but surely you couldn’t keep it up through another class—especially not with Professor Hecat keeping a watchful eye.

You slid into the seat next to him without a word, a soft hum of a tune under your breath as you unpacked your things. Sebastian didn’t miss the glint of mischief still lingering in your eyes, but he chose to ignore it.

Professor Hecat began the lesson with her usual briskness, outlining the day’s activity: practicing defensive and offensive spells in pairs.

Sebastian exhaled in relief. Partner work meant he could focus on the task at hand, and spell practice was something he excelled at. He cast a sidelong glance at you, waiting for the inevitable quip about how you’d wipe the floor with him. But instead, you gave him an easy smile, looking far too composed for his comfort.

“Alright, partner,” you said, drawing your wand and stepping into position across from him. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Sebastian smirked, eager to reclaim some sense of control after the morning’s torment. “Ladies first,” he said, gesturing for you to make the first move.

You raised your wand, your posture flawless, but before casting, you paused. “It’s so warm in here,” you murmured, loosening your tie and pulling it free with a casual flick. You undid the top two buttons of your blouse, fanning yourself with your hand. “Don’t you think?”

Sebastian stiffened, his smirk vanishing. “I—what?”

You gave him a pointed look, as if waiting for an answer, before shrugging lightly. “Never mind. Let’s get started.”

He barely had time to blink before you cast Expelliarmus, your wand aimed with precision. The spell hit him squarely, sending his wand spinning out of his hand. You grinned triumphantly as you caught it midair.

“Not bad, huh?” you teased, your voice light and smug.

Sebastian huffed, running a hand through his hair to buy himself a moment. “Not bad,” he echoed, stepping closer. “Now, hand it over.”

You tilted your head, your eyes gleaming with playful defiance. Instead of returning his wand immediately, you held it up, forcing him to move closer. “Come and get it."

Sebastian gritted his teeth, closing the distance between you. His pulse quickened the moment he got close enough to take in the details: the faint flush across your cheeks, the way your chest rose and fell just slightly faster than normal, and—Merlin help him—the open collar of your blouse that gave him a perfect view of your collarbones and just enough cleavage to make his mouth go dry.

He hesitated for a fraction of a second, his gaze flickering to yours. Your pupils were blown wide, and that maddening smirk was still firmly in place. You smelled like your usual perfume, that subtle scent that had been driving him to distraction all day, mixed with the faintest trace of parchment and ink.

Sebastian’s hand shot out to take his wand, but you pulled it back at the last second, your smirk widening. “What’s the matter? You look a bit tense.”

He took another step closer, his chest nearly brushing yours. The air between you crackled with tension, and he was certain you could hear the rapid thud of his heartbeat. He locked eyes with you, his voice low and rough. “I’m starting to think you want me tense.”

You shrugged. "Not sure what you're talking about."

Sebastian’s jaw tightened, his patience hanging by a thread. He reached for his wand again, his fingers brushing against yours as he finally pried it from your grip. For a moment, his hand lingered over yours, his thumb skimming the back of it before he pulled away.

“Your turn,” you said, stepping back with a satisfied smile. “Let’s see if you can disarm me.”

Sebastian let out a slow breath, gripping his wand tighter. Focus, he told himself, though it was easier said than done with the way you were looking at him—like you were daring him to lose control.

“All right,” he said, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him. “Ready?”

“Always,” you replied, your smile unwavering.

He raised his wand, channeling every ounce of his frustration into the spell. Expelliarmus! The red jet of light shot toward you, and your wand flew from your hand, clattering to the floor behind you.

You sighed dramatically, shaking your head. “Well done,” you said, your tone dripping with mock defeat. “I suppose I’ll have to get that.”

Sebastian watched, helpless, as you turned and bent over to retrieve your wand, taking your sweet time as you reached for it. His gaze betrayed him, trailing down the curve of your back to your hips and further still. The hem of your skirt rode up as you bent, barely covering what it was meant to, and leaving absolutely nothing to Sebastian's already frazzled imagination.

He swallowed hard, dragging his eyes away with an effort that felt almost physical. Merlin, you were going to kill him. He could already feel the warmth creeping up the back of his neck, and he prayed to every deity he could name that no one else was paying attention.

When you straightened and turned back to him, wand in hand, your smirk was firmly in place.

“Enjoy the view?” you asked, tilting your head as if the question were perfectly innocent.

Sebastian couldn’t help the low growl that escaped him as he stepped closer again, his voice a quiet warning. “Keep it up, and you’ll regret it.”

Your grin widened, utterly unrepentant. “Is that a threat?”

For a split second, he considered saying something that would wipe that smirk off your face, but Professor Hecat’s sharp voice cut through the tension. “Back to your positions!” she barked, her gaze darting between the two of you. “Focus, Mr. Sallow, Miss—”

“Yes, Professor,” Sebastian said quickly, stepping back and trying to calm his racing heart. But as he moved into position, he could still smell your perfume lingering in the air, and the image of your teasing smirk was seared into his mind.

He was barely holding it together, and the day was far from over. But surely, over lunch and surrounded by friends, he’d have some semblance of a reprieve. You wouldn’t dare push things in front of an audience—or so he hoped.

He slid into a seat beside Ominis, who was already stirring a bowl of soup to cool it off. Garreth and Natty sat across from them, deep in a lively debate about the Honeydukes confections.

Sebastian exhaled a small sigh of relief as you arrived a few moments later, seating yourself between Natty and Garreth across from him. You greeted everyone cheerfully, plucking a goblet of pumpkin juice from the table with your usual grace. For a fleeting moment, Sebastian thought he might actually survive the meal unscathed.

He was wrong.

You reached for the fruit platter in front of you, selecting a piece of pineapple and popping it into your mouth with a content hum. Sebastian caught himself watching the way your lips curled around your fingers, quickly tearing his gaze away as heat crept up his neck.

He wasn’t fast enough. You noticed, of course, and your eyes gleamed with mischief as you plucked another piece of pineapple, holding it up thoughtfully.

“Sebastian,” you said, your tone far too casual, “do you eat pineapple often?”

His brow furrowed. “Uh, not really. Why?”

You shrugged, biting into the pineapple and chewing slowly before answering. “Oh, it’s just something I read once. Supposedly, it makes… certain things taste better.”

The words hung in the air for a split second before their meaning hit him like a Stupefy spell. His jaw dropped, and he felt the heat in his cheeks spread like wildfire.

Garreth, who had been mid-sip of pumpkin juice, choked and started coughing, his face contorted with suppressed laughter. Natty’s eyes widened before she covered her mouth with her hand, a muffled giggle escaping. Even Ominis, usually the picture of composure, pinched the bridge of his nose with a long-suffering sigh.

Sebastian, on the other hand, was frozen, torn between mortification and the desperate urge to throttle you—or kiss you senseless. “You—” he spluttered, his voice low and strained. “You can’t just—why would you—”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “What? It’s just a question. I’m curious.”

“Curious,” Sebastian echoed, his voice a growl. His grip tightened on his goblet, knuckles white as he tried to maintain some semblance of composure.

You grinned, clearly pleased with yourself, and went back to your meal as if nothing had happened. Garreth finally managed to stop coughing, wiping tears from his eyes as he laughed. “Merlin’s beard, Sebastian, you’re as red as my tie.”

“Shut it, Weasley,” Sebastian muttered, glaring at him before shooting you a dark look.

Ominis sighed again, his patience clearly wearing thin. “Do the two of you ever give it a rest? Some of us are trying to eat in peace.”

Sebastian gritted his teeth, forcing himself to focus on his plate. You, meanwhile, continued to eat with maddening grace, each bite more deliberate than the last. To anyone else, you seemed completely oblivious, but Sebastian knew better. The way your lips lingered on the edge of your goblet, how your tongue darted out to catch the stray drop of pumpkin juice, the slow way you licked your fingers after finishing a piece of fruit—it was all deliberate, and it was driving him insane.

When lunch finally ended, Sebastian practically leapt to his feet, eager to put some distance between you. But as the group began to disperse, you slipped up beside him, your hand brushing against his arm.

“What do you say we use our free period to get a head start on homework?” you suggested, your tone casual but your eyes sparkling with mischief. “The library’s quiet. Perfect for concentration.”

Sebastian narrowed his eyes at you, suspicious. “Concentration, huh?”

You tilted your head, looking up at him with faux innocence. “What else would we be doing?”

He exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. The library it is.”

Sebastian trailed after you, already regretting his decision to agree to this “study session.” He wasn’t walking to his doom—not exactly—but it certainly felt like you were leading him into a trap he’d willingly sprung. Every step you took ahead of him, your hips swaying just enough to catch his attention, felt deliberate, and his patience was wearing thin.

When you reached the secluded table in the back of the library, you slid into a seat with a satisfied smile, glancing up at him as if daring him to sit across from you. Of course, he did—because, Merlin help him, no part of him could resist you, even when you were driving him out of his mind.

“You’re awfully quiet,” you said, leaning forward to rest your chin in your hand, your voice laced with amusement. “Something on your mind?”

Sebastian opened his mouth to reply but quickly thought better of it, forcing himself to focus instead on pulling out his parchment and quill. He needed to get this essay done, fast—before you found another way to turn his brain to mush.

“Nothing,” he muttered, not looking up. “Let’s just work.”

You hummed in response, a light, teasing sound that sent a shiver down his spine. When he finally risked a glance at you, you were watching him with that knowing smirk, the one that said you knew exactly what you were doing to him—and you had no intention of stopping.

To your credit, the two of you did manage to work in relative silence for about an hour. It was a miracle, really, considering the way you had been tormenting him all day. The soft scratching of quills and the occasional flipping of pages filled the air, lulling Sebastian into a false sense of security. You even asked him a few legitimate questions about your arithmancy work, and he found himself easing into the rhythm of study.

But of course, it couldn’t last.

You tapped your quill against the edge of the table thoughtfully, drawing his attention as you tilted your head, a curious expression on your face. “Sebastian,” you said slowly, like you were turning something over in your mind.

He glanced up, cautiously optimistic that this might be a real question. “What?”

“If you cast Levioso on something heavy enough, do you think there’s a weight limit?”

Sebastian frowned, considering. “There’s a theoretical limit, I suppose. It depends on the skill of the caster and the strength of the enchantment. Why?”

You propped your chin in your hand as you gestured toward the sturdy oak table in front of you. “Can you cast it on objects to make them stronger, or is that a separate charm altogether?"

Sebastian blinked at you, trying to gauge where this was going. Your expression was innocent enough—curious, thoughtful—but he’d spent far too much time with you to let his guard down completely.

“That’s a separate charm,” he said slowly, leaning back in his chair. “Reinforcement charms can strengthen objects, but Levioso isn’t meant for that. It’s just levitation.”

You nodded thoughtfully, your fingers tapping lightly against the edge of the table. “Makes sense,” you mused. “I was just thinking… these tables have probably been here for decades, maybe centuries."

Sebastian frowned, unsure where your train of thought was leading. “I suppose so. Why?”

Your lips curved into a soft smile, and you tilted your head, your eyes sparkling with a mischief he recognized all too well. “Oh, no reason,” you said lightly, waving a hand. “I was just wondering how much weight they could handle. You know, hypothetically.”

The room seemed to still as your words hung in the air, and Sebastian felt his stomach drop. His quill froze mid-scratch, and he stared at you, his mind racing to keep up.

“Hypothetically,” he repeated, his voice flat, though his pulse was anything but.

"You know," You shrugged, leaning back in your chair with an air of nonchalance that was completely at odds with the gleam in your eyes. "Like the weight of two people."

Sebastian stared at you, half-convinced he was hallucinating. You were far too composed for someone who had just casually suggested something so completely inappropriate in the middle of the bloody library, yet here you were, twirling your quill like the picture of innocence. He wanted to say something clever, something sharp that would throw you off your game, but his mind was stuck on one thing.

Two people. This table.

Sebastian’s knuckles turned white as he gripped his quill, his patience dangling by a thread. He could feel the heat crawling up the back of his neck, and you noticed, of course. You always noticed. The way your eyes sparkled with mischief, that faint smirk tugging at your lips—you were daring him to lose control, and you both knew it.

But Sebastian was stubborn, if nothing else. He forced his gaze back down to his parchment, his quill scratching out nonsense as he tried to focus on anything other than the absurdly inappropriate image you’d planted in his head.

“Anyway,” you said lightly, your tone as innocent as ever, “I've had enough of arithmancy for the day. What was the essay prompt again for potions? Something about brewing methods?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “The efficacy of different brewing techniques for enhancing potion potency.”

“Right,” you said, nodding thoughtfully, a contemplative look crossing your face. “Hm… I think I know a book that covers this. It talks about how it’s all in the measurements. Every little thing has to be just right. You’ve got to be so careful with how deep you’re going in, or… well, the whole thing can become quite explosive."

Sebastian’s quill snapped in half.

He froze, staring down at the broken pieces in his hands as if they might somehow offer an escape from this torment. But when he looked up, your smirk was waiting for him, smug and triumphant.

“Oops,” you said sweetly, tilting your head. “Did I say something distracting?”

Sebastian gritted his teeth, his patience unraveling by the second. “You know exactly what you’re doing,” he growled, his voice low and tense.

“Do I?” you replied, feigning innocence. But the glint in your eye betrayed you. You leaned forward slightly, your voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Surely you'll get top marks on this essay... I think you know exactly how deep to go."

Sebastian stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor as he pushed it back. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and filled with a heat that made your smirk falter for the first time all day.

“Outside. Now,” he said, his voice low and commanding.

Your brows lifted in mock surprise, but the flicker of excitement in your expression didn’t escape him. You opened your mouth to say something—no doubt another teasing remark—but he wasn’t having it.

“Don’t,” he warned, cutting you off. “Just move.”

For once, you complied without argument, though the playful sway of your hips as you walked ahead of him made it clear you weren’t done yet.

Sebastian followed close behind as you weaved through the bookshelves, his chest tight with frustration and something far more dangerous. He didn’t know what he was going to do when he finally got you alone—but he knew he couldn’t take another second of this.

“You’ve been playing games all day,” he growled as you walked, his voice low and rough. “Do you think I didn’t notice? Do you think I’d just let it slide?”

You raised a brow. “I don’t know what you mean,” you said, tilting your head in mock confusion. “I’ve been perfectly well-behaved.”

Sebastian grabbed your wrist, his forehead nearly brushing yours as his hand came up to cup your jaw. “Well-behaved?” he echoed, his tone dripping with disbelief. “You’ve been driving me mad. Every look, every word, every touch—” He cut himself off, dragging a hand through his hair before pinning you with a glare. “Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to keep my hands off you?”

His grip on your wrist tightened—not enough to hurt, but firm enough to leave no room for argument. Without another word, he turned sharply, dragging you through the corridors at a pace that made it clear his patience had completely run out.

You didn’t protest, your steps falling into sync with his as he led you toward the one place he knew you’d have privacy: the Undercroft.

When you finally reached the hidden entrance, Sebastian didn’t even bother with his usual careful precision. He muttered the incantation quickly, his voice rough with impatience, and the hidden door swung open. He tugged you inside, the heavy door slamming shut behind you with a resounding thud that echoed in the quiet, secluded space.

The silence hung for a moment, broken only by the sound of your unsteady breaths as Sebastian turned to face you. His gaze was dark, intense, and utterly consuming as he stepped closer, backing you up until your spine pressed against the cool stone wall.

“Do you think this is a joke?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous, every word dripping with frustration and something far more primal. His hand braced against the wall beside your head, effectively caging you in.

Your smirk returned. “I think you’re overreacting,” you replied, your tone light but laced with a hint of defiance. “All I did was—”

“All you did,” he interrupted sharply, his other hand gripping your chin gently but firmly, tilting your face up to meet his eyes, “was make me spend the entire day trying not to lose my fucking mind.”

You didn’t back down, even as his chest brushed yours. “I was just having fun."

“Fun?” Sebastian echoed, his lips curling into a humorless smile. “You think driving me mad was fun?”

You tilted your head, grinning. “I think you like it."

Sebastian’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, the tension between you seemed to reach its breaking point. His thumb brushed over your jaw, a deceptively soft gesture that made your breath hitch. “Maybe you're right,” he admitted, his voice gravelly. “But don’t think for a second that you’re off the hook. You’re going to pay for every second of torture you put me through today.”

Your smirk widened, and you leaned up to brush your lips against his, your voice a teasing whisper against his mouth. “Promise?”

Sebastian’s answering smile was dark and full of intent as he guided you toward the sofa. “Oh, you have no idea.”