#she realizes because she picked up a book on it from the library and read it

[writingpandagoth]

hi! I want to say that I really really love your job and I'm reading almost all of them!! I had an idea for request and I was wondering if you could do it.

So, this is in the marauders era, and Y/N potter is James' little sister and when she arrives to hogwarts she literally loved Severus from the 1st sec, and eventually they start what could be a "relationship" but james find them. While they were """busy""""

I have been looking for something like this but i just dont find anything 😭😭😭😭😭

I started writing it. Changed my plans for the storyline in the middle of it and thats what came from it😂

I hope you like it!❤️

In The Shadows of Us

You don't even make it to the Gryffindor table before James has you in a headlock.

“Gryffindor! I knew it!” he crows, practically dragging you off your feet. “Brilliant choice. Inspired, really. I mean, it’s in the blood.”

“Gerroff, James,” you hiss, elbowing him hard enough that he finally lets go, laughing.

Sirius Black whistles down the table. “Another Potter. We’re doomed.”

You roll your eyes, fixing your robes as you drop into the only open seat. It’s only your first night, and already, you’re ‘Potter’s little sister’ to everyone who matters. You pick up your goblet and drink deeply, wishing you could vanish into it.

Thats when you spot him.

Not because he’s loud or smiling or trying to be seen but because he isn’t.

He sits alone at the Slytherin table, shoulders hunched, dark hair hanging like a curtain around his face.

His plate is mostly untouched. His head is bowed. He looks...out of place.

Like he’s already figured out the world has no interest in making space for him.

James is beside you, laughing loudly with Sirius about something you barely hear.

You’re supposed to be celebrating.

You’re supposed to be excited.

Instead, your eyes keep flickering back to the boy in green and silver.

You don’t even know his name yet.

But your heart tugs strangely in your chest—sharp, unexpected.

Like you’ve just stumbled onto something you’re not meant to touch, but can’t look away from.

In your first Potions class, you learn his name.

Severus Snape.

He sits three rows down, ink-stained fingers moving quickly over parchment.

He’s good.

Brilliant, actually.

You notice how fast he jots down notes. How his brow furrows in concentration. How his mouth twists, almost smiling, when Slughorn praises him.

No one else notices.

They’re too busy snickering behind their hands, throwing paper at each other, whispering names you don’t like.

You find yourself defending him before you even realize it.

When Sirius makes a joke about greasy hair, you snap, "At least he’s paying attention."

James throws you a look—half confused, half amused.

You ignore it.

You don’t care.

Not when Severus looks up, just for a second, and you swear he smiles.

The first real moment happens in the library.

You drop your Charms textbook with a loud thud, wincing as Madam Pince glares from behind the desk.

Before you can bend to pick it up, someone’s already there.

Long, slender fingers brush the spine.

Severus Snape straightens, holding the book out to you without a word.

Up close, his face is sharper than you expected. Pale, serious, with eyes that seem to burn right through you.

"Thanks," you mumble, flustered.

He gives the smallest nod.

Almost like he’s not used to being thanked.

Almost like he’s not used to being seen.

You open your mouth—say something, anything— but he’s already gone, disappearing between the stacks.

Still, the warmth lingers in your chest long after he’s gone.

You find yourself looking for him after that.

In the corridors. In the library. At meals.

Sometimes you catch him staring too, quickly looking away when you notice.

Sometimes you imagine what it would be like to sit beside him instead of across the Hall.

Sometimes you wonder what he’d sound like laughing.

James teases you about daydreaming. Sirius makes faces behind your back. You let them.

You don’t tell them your daydreams have nothing to do with Gryffindor Quidditch victories or pranks on Slytherins.

You don’t tell them your heart races faster when you think about a boy with ink-stained hands and tired eyes.

You keep it quiet.

It's weeks later when you’re wandering back to Gryffindor Tower after a disastrous study session (you still can’t get that feather to bloody float properly) when you spot a sliver of candlelight spilling out from under the library doors.

Curious, you push them open.

There he is. Same table. Same hunched shoulders. Same deep focus.

You hesitate. This is stupid. You should go.

Instead, you slip inside and take the seat across from him.

He looks up slowly, suspicion flashing across his face.

“You’re James Potter’s sister,” he says.

“Unfortunately.”

Something flickers in his eyes—amusement? disbelief? You’re not sure.

“Shouldn’t you hate me?”

You shrug. “Maybe I should. But I don’t.”

He huffs a small, disbelieving laugh, then ducks his head, hiding it behind a curtain of hair.

You smile to yourself and crack open one of your books.

You don’t say another word for the next hour, but somehow, you leave feeling like something important just happened.

It becomes a pattern.

Unspoken meetings in the dead hours of night. Shared silences. Snatches of conversation about classes, spells, potions. His sharp wit makes you laugh. Your stubbornness makes him roll his eyes in fond irritation.

You keep it hidden from James, from Sirius, from everyone.

Not because it’s wrong. Because it’s yours.

Because you know no one else would understand

And that’s how it all began.

--

It’s been five years now since that night in the library. Since he looked at you like he didn’t know what to make of you, and you smiled anyway.

Five years since your little crush turned into love for him. 

Five years of stolen moments. Quiet laughter. Shared secrets.

Five years of friendship no one knows about.

Not James. Not Sirius. Not Remus, even though you think he suspects.

Certainly not Lily, who’s been drifting further from Severus with every passing term.

But you—you’ve stayed. Even when he pulled away. Even when he said he didn’t deserve to have anyone.

The library is nearly empty, the candles burned down low to nubs, the sky outside ink-black.

You’re supposed to be studying.

Instead, you’re sitting too close to Severus, knees brushing under the table, pretending not to notice how he’s looking at you.

"You're not concentrating," he says, voice low and dry.

"Neither are you," you shoot back, trying for lightness but failing miserably.

His lips twitch—half a smirk, half something softer.

He leans in a little, close enough that you can smell the faint sharpness of potions clinging to his robes, the worn leather of old books.

You tilt your chin up without thinking.

The world shrinks to the space between your mouths—an inch, a breath, a heartbeat.

You could kiss him. Right now.

You want to.

He freezes, studying you like he’s memorizing your face, like he's terrified and desperate all at once.

For a second, it feels inevitable.

Then a floorboard creaks somewhere in the stacks.

He jerks back like you burned him, eyes darting to the door.

You sit there, heart hammering, lips tingling with a kiss that didn’t happen.

The moment slides between you, thick and heavy and undeniable.

Neither of you says a word.

You turn back to your books, pretending your hands aren’t shaking.

He does the same.

But it’s too late now.

You both know something's changed.

The next day, James corners you after lunch.

“You’ve been off lately,” he says, arms crossed. “Everything okay?”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, James. Believe it or not, the world doesn’t revolve around you.”

Sirius laughs. Remus doesn’t.

You feel their eyes on you long after you walk away.

Later you find yourself sitting with Severus in the old greenhouse, knees bumping under the low wooden bench, the only light coming from your shared wand resting on the windowsill.

The world outside is silent. The castle's asleep. But you’re wide awake.

You're arguing—again.

About something stupid. Some half-forgotten Potions theory from class.

"You’re wrong," you insist, poking him in the ribs.

He catches your hand easily, fingers wrapping around yours in a slow, deliberate movement.

You should pull back.

You don’t.

Instead, you stay like that—caught between stubbornness and something thicker, something heavier that you’ve both been pretending not to feel.

His thumb brushes across your knuckles absentmindedly.

It’s such a small thing.

But it makes your whole body go still.

You look up at him.

He’s already looking at you.

The argument dies in your throat.

All you can hear is the rush of your own pulse.

He leans in a fraction.

Enough to make your breath hitch. Enough that you could pretend it’s nothing if you wanted to.

You don’t want to.

Your free hand lifts instinctively—tracing the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his cheekbone. His skin is warm beneath your fingertips.

He closes his eyes like he’s in pain.

When he opens them again, you see it—laid bare for the first time.

Want. Fear. Hope.

"You should stop me," he says, voice rough and uncertain.

You don’t move. You just whisper, "Don't stop."

And that’s it.

He closes the distance.

The kiss is nothing like you expected.

It’s clumsy. It’s too hard at first, teeth bumping awkwardly.

You both laugh, breathless and nervous.

Then he tilts his head, and you tilt yours, and suddenly— it's right.

His mouth moves against yours with a kind of desperation, as if he's been holding back for too long and doesn't know how to be gentle about it anymore.

You slide your hand into his hair, tugging him closer.

He groans quietly into your mouth, his other hand finding your waist, holding you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.

You kiss him back like you’re afraid you’ll never get the chance again.

When you finally pull apart, he keeps his forehead pressed against yours.

Neither of you speaks. There’s nothing to say.

The first kiss should have been enough.

It should have been a fluke—a mistake to laugh off, bury under awkward silences and mumbled excuses.

It should have ended there.

But it didn't.

Instead, it ignited something.

Something that had been smoldering between you for years, waiting for the right spark.

Now, every look lingers too long. Every brush of hands feels electric. Every stolen second alone turns dangerous.

You crave him like oxygen. always have.

And judging by the way Severus watches you when he thinks you’re not looking, the way his hands twitch at his sides like he’s fighting himself—he craves you too.

It starts small.

A kiss stolen in the shadows of a stairwell. A hand slipping under your robes to squeeze your hip before disappearing into the crowd. A whispered, "Meet me tonight." against the shell of your ear that makes your knees go weak.

You both know it’s reckless. You both know it can’t stay hidden forever but it’s already too late.

You’re too far gone.

And the taste of his mouth still clinging to yours is all the excuse you need to chase it again.

The corridor is abandoned except for you and Severus, hidden half behind an ancient suit of armor.

Your back slams lightly against the stone wall as he presses into you, mouth moving hungrily against yours, hands braced on either side of your head.

You wind your fingers into his hair, tugging him closer, swallowing the broken sounds he makes against your lips.

Footsteps echo from somewhere down the hall.

You both freeze—lips still barely touching, breaths harsh against each other's skin.

Severus pulls back just enough to whisper against your mouth, "Later."

You kiss him once more anyway, fierce and reckless, before darting away in opposite directions.

And again.

You slip into the back corner of the library, pretending to search the dusty shelves.

Severus is already there, hidden in the shadows between towering bookcases.

No words.

Just his hand catching yours, pulling you into the gloom.

He cages you between the shelf and his body, kissing you before you can even breathe.

It’s slow, deep, burning.

Your hands slide up under his open robe, tracing warm skin and the sharp bones of his hips.

He bites back a low sound when your hips brush.

You both know this is insane. You both don't care.

And neither of you is going to stop.

The greenhouse is humid, the air heavy with the scent of damp earth and blooming moonflowers when he asks you to be his girlfriend. You barley have said yes before Severus grabs your waist, hoisting you up onto the long wooden worktable.

You wrap your legs around him automatically, pulling him flush against you.

His mouth is frantic against yours, fingers digging into your thighs.

Your hands trail under his shirt, feeling the sharp contrast between damp fabric and burning skin.

A pot clatters to the floor behind you.

You both freeze, staring at the door.

When no one comes, he just growls low in his throat and kisses you harder.

Like he can't stand being careful anymore now that he can call you his.

--

You push open the portrait hole as quietly as you can.

The Fat Lady mutters grumpily under her breath, but you slip through before she can scold you properly.

It’s nearly midnight.

The common room is dark, save for the dying embers in the fireplace. Chairs pushed askew, books forgotten on tables. Silent.

You breathe out slowly, easing toward the girls' staircase—

"Where were you?"

The voice cuts through the dark like a knife.

You jump, spinning around.

James sits in one of the armchairs, half-sunken into the cushions, arms crossed over his chest, eyes glinting in the low firelight.

Waiting.

Watching.

"I—I was in the library," you lie, too fast.

He arches a disbelieving brow. "Library closes at ten."

"Studying," you mumble, heat prickling at the back of your neck. "Lost track of time."

James stands slowly, unfolding himself to his full, infuriating height.

"You've been disappearing a lot lately," he says carefully, like he's testing the waters. "Skipping meals. Staying out after curfew. Coming back looking like—" He gestures vaguely at you—your wrinkled robes, your tangled hair, your flushed cheeks.

You cross your arms defensively.

"So what? I'm not allowed to have a life?"

"Depends who's in it," he says, voice sharp.

You meet his gaze stubbornly.

He narrows his eyes. Searching your face for something you won't give him.

Finally, he shakes his head, disgusted.

"Whatever," he mutters, brushing past you toward the boys' staircase. "But if you think I'm not paying attention—you’re wrong."

The words hang behind him like a curse.

You stand there long after he’s gone, heart hammering.

James is suspicious.

Too suspicious.

--

James lounges in one of the worn-out armchairs in the Gryffindor common room the following night, tossing a Chocolate Frog in the air and catching it lazily.

You’re supposed to be upstairs.

Asleep. Safe. Instead, you’re nowhere to be seen.

Again.

"You know," Sirius says, grinning as he drops into the chair beside him, "if you’re so worried about her sneaking off, we could just check."

James frowns. "Check what?"

Sirius smirks, pulling a folded, worn piece of parchment from his pocket.

James' stomach sinks.

The Marauders' Map.

"Always knew you were paranoid, Prongs," Sirius says easily. "Now you can prove it."

James hesitates—guilt flickering in his gut but not enough to stop him.

He taps the map once with his wand.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

The parchment comes alive under his hands, black ink curling into familiar hallways and stairwells.

Dots labeled with names begin to appear all over the map—some clustered in dormitories, some roaming late through the castle.

He scans quickly.

No sign of you in Gryffindor Tower. Not in the library. Not in the Great Hall.

His stomach knots tighter.

Then he sees it.

Severus Snape Y/N Potter

In an abandoned classroom.

Far from everything else.

He doesn't think. He shoves to his feet, knocking the chair over, map clutched tight in his hand.

"Where are you going?" Remus asks sharply.

James doesn't answer.

He’s already gone, heart hammering, fists clenched.

Already sprinting down the stairs, across the courtyard, through the darkened halls.

Already knowing—knowing—that whatever he finds won't be something he can ever unsee.

Already furious.

--

You had once again sneaked out to meet Severus in the abandoned classroom where you always meet now. You had found it by accident after looking for a quiet place to make out in peace.

He’s already there, leaning against the desk, arms crossed over his chest, hair falling into his eyes. He looks every bit the dark, dangerous secret he’s always been—and he is all yours.

You slip inside without a word. His wand flicks. The door shuts with a low thunk.

You set your books down noisily, pretending you don’t see him watching you.

Pretending you’re not vibrating with the need to touch him.

He crosses the room in two long strides.

“You’re late,” he says quietly, but there’s no real bite to it.

“Did you missed me?“ you tease, smirking.

He shakes his head, that small, private smile you love flashing across his face.

“You have no idea how much.”

His fingers skim your sleeve first. Testing. Asking.

When you don’t move, he steps closer.

His hand slides down your arm slowly—slow enough to make you shiver—and tangles his fingers with yours.

The kiss is inevitable.

You lean into him, your mouth finding his easily, naturally, like you were made for it. His hands come up to cup your jaw, tilting your head just right, deepening it.

And when he kisses you properly—really kisses you—you forget how to stand.

Your back hits the desk. His robes are cool against your legs as he presses between them. His fingers slip under your shirt, tracing your ribs lightly, making you arch into his touch.

He breathes your name against your throat.

You tug at the buttons of his shirt, frustrated when they don’t come undone fast enough. He laughs—quiet and strained—and pulls it over his head instead, leaving him gloriously rumpled and flushed.

You run your hands across the planes of his chest, savoring the way he shudders under your touch.

"Severus," you whisper, pulling him closer.

He groans low in his throat, like he’s barely holding himself back.

He lifts you onto the desk properly, standing between your knees now, and drags his mouth over your jaw, your neck, the hollow at your throat. His teeth scrape lightly over your skin, making you gasp.

His hands are everywhere—your hips, your back, your thighs. opening your shirt.

You cling to him, kissing him harder, needing more.

Your shirt is pushed open, your skirt hitched higher around your waist. You feel him against you, hard and trembling with restraint, and it hits you how close you are to not stopping this time.

He breaks away long enough to mutter, "Tell me to stop."

"I don't want to," you breathe, pulling him back.

You want this. You want him.

Completely.

His hand slides up your thigh, hesitating only a second before moving higher.

You gasp against his mouth.

He curses under his breath—your name twisted into something desperate—and then he is laying you back against the desk with heartbreaking care.

You feel his hands fumble with the button of your skirt—

The door crashes open with a bang so loud it rattles the old windows.

You barely register the sound—too wrapped up in Severus, in the heat of his mouth on your neck, the desperate clutch of his hands on your hips.

You gasp, shoving Severus back instinctively.

He freezes.

And you turn—already knowing.

Already dreading.

James stands in the doorway, wand drawn, face contorted with something worse than rage.

Betrayal.

James' gaze flicks between you, taking in every disastrous detail. And then he moves.

Fast.

He barrels across the room and shoves Severus back with both hands.

"GET YOUR BLOODY HANDS OFF HER!" James roars, voice cracking.

Severus stumbles but doesn’t fight back, hands raised, palms open.

"James, STOP!" you cry, scrambling off the desk, yanking your shirt closed with trembling fingers.

He doesn’t even look at you.

"You slimy little bastard," James snarls at Severus, wand jabbing at his chest. "How long has this been going on, huh? How long have you been sneaking around with my sister like some—some filthy—"

"Don’t!" you scream, shoving James back now, standing between them. “It’s not what you think—”

"Not what I think?! I caught you practically shagging Snape on a classroom desk!“ He got even more furious saying it pulling you away from Severus and bringing himself between the two of you again.

"We're together, James!” you shout, chest heaving. “We've been friends since my first year. We didn’t expect to catch feelings.“

James flinches like you hit him.

"You—you let him touch you For Years?! That greasy git?!"

„Don’t talk about him like that! I love him!" you shout.

It rips out of you before you can stop it.

The words hang heavy in the air.

Severus speaks then, voice low and broken: "I love her too I won’t hurt her…“

James rounds on Severus.

"You think loving her matters?" he spits. "You really think that matters?! after what you said to Lily?! You truly think you are worthy of my Sister!? You think loving her makes you deserve her?!You don't even deserve to breathe the same bloody air as her!“

Severus recoils.

Not from James.

From the truth he already believes.

You see it hit him like a curse.

Hard.

Final.

You step toward him, desperate, reaching out.

“Sev—”

He shakes his head once. Sharp.

He bends to scoop up his shirt from the floor with shaking hands, not meeting your eyes.

"Severus," you plead, grabbing his arm. "Please. Don’t—"

He pulls away like your touch burns him.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have..." he says, voice cracked and broken.

And then he shoves past you both and bolts out the door.

You lurch forward without thinking.

"Severus—!"

You’re halfway to the door when an arm wraps around you, dragging you back.

"Y/N, STOP!" James snaps, voice urgent, tight with anger.

You thrash against him, struggling, fighting to break free.

"Let me GO!" you scream, kicking and shoving, but he won’t loosen his grip.

"Just listen to me!" James hisses into your ear. "He’s not good for you. You’re upset—you’re not thinking straight. Whatever he told you it was just to ruin you."

"I’m thinking clearer than I ever have!" you sob, fists pounding uselessly against his chest. "And you—you’re the one who ruined it!"

James pulls you back harder, trying to force you to face him.

"You’ll thank me someday," he says, voice trembling. "I—I had to. I couldn’t stand there and watch you throw your life away on—on him."

You whip around, shoving him back with both hands.

"Thank you?" you repeat, voice rising. "You think I’ll THANK you for this?"

You step forward, shaking with fury and heartbreak.

"You didn’t save me, James," you hiss. "You broke me."

James' mouth opens—maybe to defend himself, maybe to argue.

You cut him off.

"You have NO right," you shout. "No right to decide who I love. No right to tear him down in front of me. No right to rip apart the one thing that made me feel like I wasn’t just—just some extension of YOU!"

Your voice cracks completely, the sob ripping out of you.

"He loves me," you choke out. "And you—you made him think he was a monster for it."

James grabs your wrists, trying to steady you, but you wrench away.

"He left because of YOU!" you sob. "Because you couldn’t see anything but your own damn hatred!"

James looks stricken.

"Y/N—"

You turn away from him, chest heaving, heart aching so badly you don’t know how you’re still standing.

"I love him," you whisper again, broken and quiet now. "And now he’s gone because you made him believe he shouldn’t have ever touched me. Like being with me and loving me is wrong…“

--

The Gryffindor common room is nearly empty when James hauls you through the portrait hole.

The fire burns low, casting long shadows across the floor.

Sirius is slouched on one of the couches, tossing a Gobstone from hand to hand.

Remus sits nearby, a book forgotten in his lap, brows furrowed.

They both look up when you enter and freeze.

You’re pale. Empty. Your clothes rumpled, your hair a mess, your face so hollow it doesn’t even look like you anymore.

You don’t say a word. You don’t even look at them.

You just walk—no, stumble—across the room and up the girls' staircase without stopping.

The dormitory door clicks shut behind you.

The silence you leave behind is deafening.

James stands there for a second, fists clenching and unclenching, breathing hard like he’s just fought a war.

Maybe he has.

"What the bloody hell happened? Who did she sneak off with?" Sirius demands, sitting up straight, the Gobstone forgotten, rolling onto the floor.

James turns, jaw tight.

"Snivellus" he spits.

Remus' eyebrows pull together sharply.

Sirius whistles low. "Snape? Seriously?"

James paces, dragging a hand through his hair.

"Had her pinned against a bloody desk," he snarls. "Half-dressed. Hands all over her—"

Sirius swears loudly, jumping to his feet. "You should’ve cursed his bollocks off!"

James shakes his head violently. "I should’ve killed him."

Remus stays silent. Watching. Thinking.

"He must have messed her up badly the way she looked like" Sirius presses, jaw set.

James doesn’t answer at first. When he finally speaks, his voice is raw.

"She said she loves him."

The words hang in the air, ugly and unbelievable. Sirius looks like he’s about to vomit. Remus just sits there, silent, pale, staring at the stairs you disappeared up.

Not at James.

Not at Sirius.

"She’s not thinking straight," James insists, half to them, half to himself. "She’s innocent. She doesn’t know what she’s doing. He—he’s twisted her around."

Sirius nods fiercely, fanning the flames. "Exactly. She’ll realize. She’ll thank you for saving her."

James nods along with him, desperate for someone to agree.

Remus just watches the fire crackle and die, his mouth a thin, worried line.

Finally, he speaks—quietly, too quietly.

"I don’t think she’s going to thank you, James."

James freezes.

"What the hell’s that supposed to mean?"

Remus looks at him—really looks at him—and sighs.

"I think you just broke something you can’t fix."

No one says anything after that.

The fire guttered low. The common room swallowed in shadows. The world tilting under their feet—and none of them knowing how to stop it.

And upstairs, behind a closed door, you cry into your pillow for the boy who ran—and the brother who pushed him away.

Next morning everywhere you go, one of them is there—leaning against the corridor wall, “casually” reading a book by the portrait hole, “just happening” to walk into whatever room you’re in.

If you so much as glance toward the dungeons, Sirius is suddenly cracking a joke, slinging an arm around your shoulders and steering you in the opposite direction.

If you take too long at dinner, James nudges your plate toward you, frowning like you’ve committed a crime by not eating.

You can’t breathe. You can’t think. You sure as hell can’t slip away to find Severus.

At first, you try.

You sneak toward the library after dinner:

Sirius appears two corridors over, yawning theatrically.

You slip out early from Charms:

James is waiting outside the classroom door, arms crossed.

It’s suffocating.

Eventually, you stop trying.

You stop talking. You stop laughing. You become a ghost in your own life—going to classes, eating mechanically, staring through people when they speak to you.

You exist but that’s all.

You don’t even bother looking for Severus anymore.

Because when you catch the briefest glimpse of him—across the courtyard, by the greenhouses—you see it.

The wreckage.

He’s thinner, paler. He doesn’t eat. Doesn’t speak unless forced. Doesn’t meet anyone’s eye.

If he sees you in the hallway, he turns sharply and disappears down another corridor.

Like you’re poison now. Like loving you hurt too much to bear.

The castle feels wrong without him. Without you.

Without the part of yourself you gave him and can’t get back.

One evening, after a long, miserable dinner where James and Sirius chatter loudly about Quidditch like everything’s fine, you excuse yourself early.

You climb the stairs alone, footsteps hollow on the stone.

You reach the dormitory, shut the door softly behind you, and collapse onto your bed.

You lie there fully clothed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the laughter drift up from the common room below.

It doesn’t feel like your laughter anymore.

You don't even recognize the girl they think they’re protecting.

And miles away in the dark corridors of the castle, Severus Snape leans his forehead against the cold stone wall and wonders why letting go hurts worse than holding on ever did.

--

It’s another miserable evening in the common room.

You sit by the fire, pretending to read, staring at the same page for half an hour.

James and Sirius are across the room, laughing too loudly about something stupid, like the world hasn’t cracked open and swallowed you whole.

You don’t laugh. You barely breathe.

Remus watches you. He watches the way your shoulders sag lower every day. He watches the way your eyes stay dull, unseeing, unfocused. He watches the way you shrink smaller and smaller until you barely take up space at all.

And finally, he’s had enough.

He stands up abruptly crossing the room and sits down across from you.

When you glance up, startled, he says it—simple and quiet:

"Go to him. He is at the old Astronomy Tower."

You blink.

It takes a second to even register the words.

Behind him, James and Sirius whip their heads around like they’ve just heard a curse word.

"What?!" James explodes, half-rising from his seat.

"Have you lost your mind, Moony?" Sirius demands.

Remus doesn’t even turn. He keeps his gaze steady on you.

"You heard me," he says calmly. "Go to Severus. I saw him go there after dinner I am sure he is still there."

You open your mouth—whether to argue or cry, you don’t know—but James storms over before you can speak.

"Remus, you can't be serious!" James hisses. "After what he did—after what she almost did—"

"He didn’t force her," Remus cuts in sharply. Still quiet but deadly.

James flinches.

"You two," Remus says, voice low, "have been watching her like a bloody hawk. Controlling her. Smothering her. And look at her now."

He gestures to you.

You sit frozen, hands clutching the book in your lap so tightly your knuckles are white.

"She's not better off," Remus continues. "She's not happier. She's breaking apart. It's YOU she needs saving from and not Severus"

James' mouth opens.

"She is perishing in front of us. Obeying you and it's killing her." Remus says, louder now, anger crackling just under the surface. "And you call that protection? Her being heartbroken just so You can be happy?"

Sirius shifts uncomfortably, looking away.

James stares at you like he sees it for the first time—the hollowness in your eyes, the defeat carved into your face.

It hits him like a blow.

Remus stands, taller than you’ve ever seen him, voice steady and firm.

"You love him," he says to you. "And he loves you."

You shake your head, tears burning in your eyes. "It's to late...He left—"

"Because he thought it was what you needed," Remus says gently. "Because James made him believe it."

He steps closer.

"You deserve to be with the one you love, happy." he says, soft but fierce. "Not trapped in someone else's idea of who you should be."

He glances at James now, full of steel.

"Go. Be with him and if anyone tries to stop you again," he adds, voice dropping dangerously low, "they'll have to answer to me."

James stiffens. Sirius stares at the floor.

Remus turns back to you.

"Go," he says simply. "Don't waste another bloody second and don't ever let go again."

And for the first time in weeks—

You feel like you can breathe again.

You don’t say thank you. You don’t say goodbye. You just run—faster than you ever have—out into the night, chasing the only thing that’s ever made you feel whole.

The castle is dark and empty when you run. Corridors blur past you.

Your chest aches with every breath, shoes slap against the cold stone floor but you don’t stop. Not until you reach the place you need.

The old Astronomy Tower.

The one place where the world always felt just a little farther away.

You shove the heavy door open and spill onto the stairs.

Up and up, higher and higher, heart in your throat.

And there slumped against the far wall, knees drawn to his chest, head bowed—

Severus.

For a long moment, you just stand there.

Frozen.

He looks so small. So broken. So far from the boy who once argued with you over Potions essays and sneaked kisses behind dusty curtains.

You take a trembling step forward. He doesn't look up.

You whisper, "Severus?"

He flinches like you hit him.

"You shouldn’t be here," he says hoarsely, voice raw from disuse or crying—you can't tell.

You move closer anyway.

He finally lifts his head. His eyes are bloodshot. Haunted.

And full of so much guilt it nearly floors you.

"I left," he says brokenly. "I left so you could find better. You should Hate me."

You shake your head furiously, blinking away the tears blurring your vision.

"I could never hate you," you whisper.

He laughs then—a terrible, hollow sound.

"You should," he mutters. "Your brother was right. I’m—I'm nothing. I’m—"

"Stop," you say sharply, dropping to your knees in front of him.

He tries to look away. You grab his face between your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze.

"Don't you dare," you whisper fiercely. "Don't you dare let him make you believe that."

Tears spill down your cheeks, but you don’t let go.

"You are mine," you say, voice shaking with the force of it. "You are good and you are brilliant and you are everything to me."

His hands tremble as he grips your wrists.

"You deserve better," he chokes out.

"I don’t want better," you snap. "I want you."

Something crumbles in him then.

You feel it. The last wall cracking and falling apart between you.

He surges forward, crushing his mouth to yours—desperate, broken, real.

You kiss him back just as fiercely, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, closer, closer until there's no space left between you.

Tears mix with the kiss, but neither of you cares.

Not anymore.

You’re here. He’s here.

And that’s all that matters.

When you finally break apart, panting, foreheads pressed together, you whisper the only thing that matters:

"I love you."

You feel him shudder against you.

"I love you too," he whispers back, voice wrecked.

"And I’m not leaving," you promise. "Not ever again."

He pulls you into his arms then, holding you so tightly it nearly hurts.

You hold him just as tightly back.

Two broken pieces, fitting back together.

And for the first time in weeks—you feel whole again.

--

The grass is cool beneath you, the spring air sharp and fresh.

You sit cross-legged under one of the big oaks near the lake, a book open across your lap. Severus leans against the trunk beside you, close enough that his knee brushes yours with every shift.

He’s reading too—or pretending to.

Mostly, he keeps glancing at you from under his lashes, as if still half-convinced you might vanish if he looks away too long.

You lift your head and catch him staring.

"What?" you tease, cheeks warm.

He just shakes his head, smiling in that small, secret way only you ever get to see.

"Nothing," he says. "Everything."

You reach up and brush a strand of hair out of his face.

He leans into your touch without thinking, eyes fluttering shut.

You kiss his forehead—slow, lingering.

He wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you closer until you’re half in his lap, laughing breathlessly.

"You’re ridiculous," you murmur against his temple.

"You chose me," he reminds you, voice full of wonder.

"Always," you whisper.

For once, there’s no fear. No hiding. No need to look over your shoulder.

Just you and him.

And the sunlight weaving between you like a blessing.

You don’t even hear them at first. The crunch of footsteps across the grass. The shift in the air.

Severus stiffens beneath you.

You twist to look.

James. Sirius. Remus.

Walking back from the Quidditch pitch, laughing and loud—until they see you.

Then everything stops.

Severus’ body tenses even more under your hands. You feel the old fear rising in him—automatic, instinctual. He shifts, like he might pull away.

You don’t let him.

You tighten your grip around his waist, leaning in, pressing a kiss just under his jaw.

You stay.

You don’t hide. You hold him in the open and dare anyone to take him from you.

James' mouth tightens. Sirius’ jaw clenches.

Remus lingers back, watching, unreadable.

Severus doesn't move. Neither do you.

After a long beat, James looks away first.

He turns, stiff and silent, walking on without a word. Sirius follows, slower, frowning.

Only Remus pauses.

He meets your eyes across the space.

And he smiles. Soft. Certain. Proud.

He nods once—small but full of meaning—before jogging after the others.

Severus slumps slightly against you, breathing out shakily.

"They didn't—" he starts.

You kiss the corner of his mouth.

"They won't," you promise.

He threads his fingers through yours.

And together, you watch the lake sparkle in the late afternoon light.

Free.

Seen.

Loved.

At last.

[irisinluv]

Isekaied as the Yandere Villain!? Pt 2

Part one

It was almost 2 minutes before I realized I was still dragging the crown prince behind me. I quickly dropped his hand and looked at him, not able to hide the embarrassment on my face. Listen- I’m committed to the bit. I WILL be the crazy jealous fiancé. But… I’m still human ok. I just dragged a full grown man down several halls and a flight of stairs while I spaced out thinking about how I’m gonna buy my cat premium wet food once I get back home to her.

It’s fine, I’m not flustered at spacing out about my cat, my characters just flustered because she’s been holding the hand of the man she’s obsessed with, that’s all!

“Well…. Did you still want to dine and take that walk?”

I expected him to scold me for my mistreatment of Cressida, grow irritated from me dragging him along like this. Instead, he chuckles and threads his arm in mine, and begins escorting me down the hall.

“Absolutely, have you dined outside by the roses yet? There’s this lovely pavilion that I am eager to hear your thoughts on.”

And that’s how I found myself under an impressive array of roses, all trained up and around a cozy dining area, creating a canopy of green and pink over an intimate tea table. The food was equally impressive, I had to keep reminding myself that the other me is used to this lavish lifestyle, to not gawk at the fancy tiny sandwiches and deserts.

“Well? Is everything to your liking? ”

I’m going off script here, how am I supposed to know how the villainess would react to a romantic scene like this?? If my “evil crazy” side isn’t supposed to be directed at him, and she’s usually kinda distant and unsure around him…. That means I should probably respond pretty curtly, polite, yet not really engaging. But…. I’ve already messed that up…. I guess I can be more genuine when it’s the two of us like this. He can think that this version of me is the facade, that I’m pretending to be pleasant, and then will start to see what a jerk “I” truly am when Cressida’s around. Besides…. I almost feel bad for the villainess. She really just seems like she was shy. Who knows- maybe, if given the opportunity, she really would have opened up more. It’s clear she loved the prince, and just didn’t know how to show it. So, with that thought, I made up my mind.

“It’s breathtaking! Roses are my favorite flower, and I’ve never seen so many kinds in bloom at once…. Plus the food and company leave little to be desired.”

There you go- slip in some subtle flirting! I’m not quite sure what time period this is supposed to be, but I get the impression flirting as bit more high class here, and I think I can have some fun with that.

“I’m glad, to be honest I was a bit flustered asking you to dine with me… you caught me quite off guard today, but in a good way.” He reaches his hand across the table and places it on my own, “I’d like to do this more often, you and I. I feel like the confines of our current arrangement have left us practically strangers, despite being engaged for several months already. I’m enjoying just being companionable with you, even if it’s just existing comfortably in the same room.”

Ohhhh, I know I’m the villain in this story but I can’t help but root for him- what a sweetheart! It’s so obvious he’s been lonely, I can’t wait for him and Cressida to fall in love and have a couple of kids that they’ll spoil rotten. And in the meantime…. Maybe I do have a bit of evil in me, because I’m going to selfishly enjoy this handsome man treating me to lunches under roses and reading in cozy libraries while I can.

“I know exactly how you feel your highness. Now, you mentioned a walk?”

We spent the afternoon laughing and chatting, and it felt nice to chat without worrying too much about my role. He asked me about that book I picked out earlier, and listened attentively as I caught him up with where I’m at in the plot. In turn, I asked about what papers he’s been signing, documents he’s been drafting, etc.

The only thing I had to do was send glares to any young ladies we passed, settling my hand on his arm possessively, and I saw their eyes widen and faces disappear behind fans as they whisper to one another. I can picture this illustrated in a manhwa- the nasty princess sinking her claws into the gullible prince… hopefully all these ladies will start gossiping and we can really cement this evil persona of mine now that Cressida’s here.

When we returned to our separate apartments, I explored my rooms a bit until servants came to get me ready for dinner, and I slipped back into the frigid bitch persona. The servant girls dressed me in a slightly stuffy gown, but I had to admit, I looked gorgeous. I sat stiff and straight as they did my hair, forcing myself to be the very picture of cold indifference. I then dismissively thanked them for their help, then sat there awkwardly as they stared at me like I was crazy.

Ohhhh shit…. The original story hadn’t prepared me for this. My character was a villain, yes, but a side character for the most part! How was she supposed to act towards her servants? I went over what I knew- the novel showed the villainess alone quite often, usually obsessing over Eric and plotting/stalking. It showed her with Eric, and how distant and awkward their relationship was when together. And then of course the numerous scenes with Cressida where the Villainess did all sorts of heinous things to the sweet girl. But… it never depicted her with servants, or even any friends or other nobles. Just… Eric and Cressida. Was other me not actually a bitch all the time? Am I being unnecessarily rude right now? Oh god I’m such an idiot.

The story is told through Cressida’s point of view- of course there’s more depth to my own character than I initially thought! The Villianess must be a misunderstood introvert! Unsure of how to act around her crush, she’s fiercely insecure and jealous of this new girl who doesn’t struggle the same way she does. When she notices the prince slipping from her grasp, she acts out against Cressida because she can’t bear to lose Eric!

As someone’s who’s worked minimum wage jobs and struggled with social anxiety most of my life, I try to be nice to the people just working to survive, but here I am acting like these poor women are the dirt beneath my shoe…. Ok. Um. Well they’re still standing there in shock, I can fix this….

“You really did a lovely job… my hair has never looked so gorgeous, you’re truly talented! And I think the prince will be very pleased with this choice of ribbon!”

There- I was nicer, and I brought it back to Eric, so I’m still the lovesick fiancé whose entire world is waiting for her in the dining room. I frowned as the servants scuttled out of the room with hurried excuses, all of them looking like they were about to faint. Damn it… I can’t believe I misread the relationship between us. I probably just ruined their night by being uncharacteristically rude. I’ve gotta learn their names next time…. Maybe ask them to help me eat some fancy pastries as an apology…?

I didn’t know it, but while I was lamenting how wrong I was about the Villainess’ character, the servants were all gossiping to the others about what had just transpired.

“You’re telling me she said THANK YOU!?”

“Yes!!! And then you should have seen how nervous she got! She just rambled, blurting out such a sweet compliment, and she even tied it back to the prince!”

“I had no idea how precious she was… I can’t believe I never realized she’s just shy! In a new place, all alone aside from her new fiancé…. Who I gather she’s got a bit of a crush on! Poor dear.”

“Ohh our sweet girl, I’m sure it must be hard bonding with the prince, when all you do is sit yards apart and hardly speak …”

“Well I may have some news about that… and it’s no wonder she was a bit flustered today, because I saw the two of them in the gardens today! They were both nothing but smiles- absolutely smitten with one another!”

“Such a lovely girl, and we never knew it all this time!”

Apparently, I had it backwards. The real villainess truly was a 2D, basic character. She was insecure and possessive over the prince, bullying Cressida half to remind her who Eric belonged to, half for the fun of it. But she didn’t let on to anyone about the true depth of her love for him. She didn’t gossip to her handmaid, didn’t ask the servants which dress he would like better. Simply acted as if they did not exist, hardly saying a word to them.

While I thought my blunt “thank you” was colder than they were used to, and then tried to smooth things over…. It was more words than they’d heard from me in the whole time I’d lived in the palace. They lapped it up and declared me their own shy little dove after that.

When I arrived to dinner, I realized why daily dinners weren’t exactly a bonding activity for the villainess and Eric. The table was massive, and only held two chairs, one at either end. It felt so…. Cold?

Eric had beat me there, and quickly stood up from his seat, waiting until I sat and a servant pushed in my chair to retake his own seat. He smiled at me and said,

“Good evening, princess.”

He had to project his voice slightly. It wasn’t like he was shouting or being loud, it was just the manner of speaking you use when talking to an elderly relative, clearer, and enunciating better so they could hear you.

I replied back, projecting my voice similarly, and found the conversation was, in fact, more awkward than it had been earlier. We ate our food mostly in silence, occasionally one of us would say something and the other would stop moving their utensils on their plate, listening closer as they ask,

“What’s that?”

By the time dinner was over and we each went to bed, I felt drained. I could have just been louder I suppose- but it’s so hard to keep up a conversation like that. I know we get along- we had chatted all afternoon after all. But some part of me realized it’s probably good to keep a bit of distance between us, even if I’ve rewritten things to be a bit chummier between the two of us. Cressida needs to swoop in and steal him from me… and my job is still to leave that room for her to do so.

It’s hard trying to be someone else, yet also making sure you lead the plot in the right direction- it’s exhausting! I feel like both director and actress!

It’s with this in mind that I launch myself into the softest bed I’d ever felt, and passed out. My first day as princess consort, the Yandere fiancé, complete.

While I was getting acquainted with my feather bed, Eric was speaking with the head waitstaff.

“Yes, tomorrow, would you mind adjusting the seating situation? I’d like for the princess consort and I to be closer together from now on. Yes, and ask my assistant to arrange my schedules like so, I’ve detailed it here. Thank you.”

At the same time, Cressida was recounting her run in with the prince and I to her handmaiden as she finishing unpacking and settling into her family’s guest apartments. Which, unbeknownst to me… was right across the hall.

Series discontinued- sorry my loves. Ik y’all wanted more but the good news is that I’ve seen several really talented authors picking up this idea and executing it wayyyy better than my sporadic mood writing ever could.

[iris-qt]

Are we getting more of theo whom has a staring problem

The Boy Who Folded First

-> Part Ⅰ - The Boy Who Stares

You’re halfway through outlining your Arithmancy essay, peacefully nestled into your usual spot in the library (the cozy alcove by the window that smells faintly of dust and lavender polish) when you hear the faintest sound of someone… hesitating.

It’s the sound of feet shuffling. A bag being adjusted. A breath being held.

You glance up, expecting Madam Pince or maybe a first-year in crisis.

Instead, you get Theodore Nott, frozen like a deer caught mid-scheme, holding a stack of books and trying very hard not to look like he’s here for you.

He is.

You blink. He nods. It’s weirdly formal, like you’re about to conduct business negotiations.

Then, very carefully, he slides into the chair across from you. He places his books on the table with reverent precision. Doesn’t say a word.

You go back to your essay. Or try to.

It’s been twenty seconds. He has not opened a single book. He has, however, started watching you with the expression of someone seeing a rainbow for the first time.

You glance up.

He quickly looks away. Opens the wrong end of a book. Realizes it. Flips it. Doesn’t read it.

You pretend to focus, but your quill slips. “Theo.”

His eyes flick up, startled. “Yes?”

“You’re not even pretending to study.��

He freezes. Then, slowly he flips a page in the upside-down book and says, “I am.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Your book is in Latin.”

“It’s a universal language,” he replies, far too quickly.

You try not to smile. “Are you here to read or stare?”

He’s quiet for a moment. Then he rests his chin on his hand, looks at you, and says, very softly, but with complete sincerity

“Both.”

Cue the butterflies. Stupid, ridiculous, flapping butterflies.

Your face warms before you can stop it. “That’s not very productive.”

He leans in slightly, his voice just a whisper above the quiet: “It is for me.”

Silence. Except for your heartbeat, which is now doing some kind of interpretive dance in your ribcage.

You look away, biting the inside of your cheek. “You’re very weird, Theodore Nott.”

He gives you the softest, smallest smile, one that tugs at just one corner of his mouth like it’s shy about being there.

“I know,” he says, eyes never leaving yours. “You make me that way.”

You drop your quill.

And for once, he doesn’t panic. He just picks it up, sets it gently in front of you, and goes back to flipping pages in his very, very upside-down Latin book.

And you, utterly doomed, go back to pretending you’re not falling for the boy who stares.

…

You don’t expect to find anything strange in your Arithmancy notes the next day.

You really don’t.

You sit down in the library like always, armed with a steaming cup of tea and the vague hope that numbers will one day make sense.

You flip open your notebook.

And there it is.

A folded piece of parchment tucked right between your notes on logarithmic spell sequencing and wand length correlations. Neat. Crisp. Very much not yours.

You pause. Pick it up. Look around suspiciously, like the paper might explode or insult your handwriting. No one seems to notice.

Your name is written on the front in tight, slanted script. Theodore’s script. Oh dear.

You unfold it carefully.

And you gasp.

Because it’s not a note. It’s a letter. A dramatic, charming, deeply earnest letter, written with the kind of emotional intensity that could only come from someone who once stared at you in class for thirteen entire minutes and forgot how to blink.

To the girl who doesn’t know she’s being watched, I should clarify: not in a terrifying way. Hopefully. Just… in a “you exist like sunlight through old stained glass and it’s very distracting” way. You sit there, every day, with your quiet focus and your ridiculous pens and your little crease between your eyebrows when you're thinking too hard. I’ve watched the way you annotate like you're solving a mystery. I’ve watched the way you smile to yourself when you get something right. I’ve watched the way you make silence feel like a conversation. And I’m utterly, irrevocably— (Ridiculously, foolishly, sincerely) —smitten. You make it very hard to concentrate. You make it very easy to feel seventeen and doomed and soft all at once. I’ve rewritten this five times. Probably because I’m terrified. You’re very smart. I’m mostly composed of sarcasm and dramatic eye contact. But if you’ll have me, even just for a walk by the lake, or a shared study table, or something unspeakably wild like holding hands, I’d very much like that. —Theo (P.S. I know you saw me walk into a door. I’m trying to block that memory out. Please let me have this.)

You stare at the letter for a full minute, brain short-circuiting, heart doing small backflips.

And just as you’re about to burst into tiny flustered sparkles, you hear the soft scrape of a chair.

You look up.

Theodore Nott is standing there.

He looks like he wants to flee the country.

“Hi,” he says, voice unusually hoarse. “So. You found it.”

You hold up the letter with both hands like it’s Exhibit A in a very dramatic trial. “You left me a love confession in my Arithmancy notebook.”

His ears go red. “You weren’t supposed to find it until after exams. I was buying time to work on…bravery.”

You raise an eyebrow, suppressing a giddy smile. “You rewrote it five times.”

“I panicked,” he says solemnly. “And I was out of parchment.”

You try to hold back your smile, but it breaks through anyway, soft, real.

“I’d very much like that walk by the lake,” you say.

Theodore’s eyes go wide. Then soft. Then stunned.

“You would?”

You nod. “On one condition.”

“Anything.”

You grin. “You have to stop pretending your upside-down French book is useful.”

He groans. “I knew you noticed.”

And just like that, the boy who stares officially becomes the boy who blushes, babbles, and very gently takes your hand like it might be the most important thing he’s ever held.

Spoiler: it is.

A/N: manifesting this, big thank you to everyone for all the love :)

[luvyeni]

DEMURE GIRL ,, 이희승

pairings ‎⸝⸝⸝ acquaintances!heeseung x shy!reader wc. 4k

genre. smut

🦢◞  includes ... first kiss, oral sex ( fem. receiving ), unprotected sex

「 authors note 𖹭 」 i had to use this word at least once im sorry.

❪ masterlist! ❫

you liked to live a simple life; you liked routine; going to class, then back to your dorm to study or catch up on reading your favorite books; this was your everyday life , except when you were running around a frat party trying to make sure your roommate doesn't take her shirt off— for the third time that semester.

“i told you yn i’m not drunk , im completely sober.” her words slurring, and inability to walk straight told another story. “okay , i believe you, just drink this.” you handed her some water, she took a sip, some of the water dripping down her chin, you wiped it. “you're so kind yn , i love you so much.” she drunkenly held you. “oh there's jake! hey jake!” she yelled over the music. “let's go yn there's jake.”

she dragged you over to the group of boys you often found yourself hanging with because of your friend's obsession with one of the frat members, jake sim, you sat her down on the couch next to the equally drunk boy. “she dragged you out to another party?” sunghoon asked, you nodded. “please she loves these parties, it's the only fun she has in her life.” your friend slurred. “well besides those books she reads.”

“what books?” you froze up hearing the voice; the voice that made your little heart jump. “heeseung man you made it.” jake got up, giving the boy a handshake. “yeah decided to stop by.” he sat down , right down next to you. “glad i did too.”

the sad thing about your crush on heeseung; is that everyone knew about it, it wasn't a secret , even heeseung knew it — it's just that you could stay in the same vicinity of the man before you started breaking out in a cold sweat , so you never gave him the time. “hey yn.” the boy smiled next to you. “h-hi."

when heeseung found out about your crush on him; he didn't think anything about it, he was popular around campus , he was used to having pretty girls having crushes on him; but your crush on him — he never had someone so shy and modest and closed off to themselves have feelings for him, so he started to watch you, the way you would sneak off by yourself; he followed you once; not in a creepy way, he followed you into the university library, you were studying or reading a book, he couldn't remember, he was too busy watching you.

the way you'd absentmindedly pick at your skirt, or you'd smile at something in the book— before he could realize, he'd been sitting down for 30 minutes watching you , and you were getting up walking out the building, he tried to follow behind you , just so he can say hi , but you were already gone.

he would've given up chasing you; but he soon found himself crushing on you, even though you only gave him a shy hello or a meek goodbye in passing; but to heeseung, that was all he needed from you in order to be utterly obsessed with you— that's the reason why he was even here, he heard you were here with your friend, and he just had to be here. “her books are all she cares about, books and her school work.” your friend slurred. “it's been like that our whole lives, you know she never even had her first kiss.”

your eyes widened, you'd strangle your best friend if she wasn't drunk and there weren't any witnesses. “you've never had your first kiss?” the question floated around the air, your ears heated up in embarrassment. “well…”

“i can help you with that.” heeseung spoke up, everyone turned to him. “unless you're waiting?” your friend; whom you definitely were gonna strangle with a pillow once she was sober in the morning spoke up. “no she isn't , she just doesn't leave the house enough to realize how many guys are fighting to even be in her presence.” that made heeseung jealous, he didn't even want to think about another man touching you. “yn?”

you shrugged, maybe this was just a really good dream and you'd wake up with a red face. “su-sure.” heeseung stood up. “where are you going?” jay asked. “well i'm not about to kiss her in front of you guys, come on yn.” he held his hand out for you to take , a waiting smile.

once you grabbed his hand, he helped you up, guiding you away from the group. “hey , don't worry i won't do anything you don't want me to do.” he said as he guided you up the steps. “besides it's just a kiss right?” he said, holding the door open to a room. “i-i guess.”

you sat down on the bed; he closed the door, the sounds from the party muffled, but you could hear your heartbeat as he got closer to you, sitting down next to you. “now before i kiss you, i want you to tell me this is what you want.” he said. “i won't pressure you into doing something just to please your friend.” he held the side of your face , making you look at him. “yn?”

“i-i do.” you said, “you can kiss me.” he smiled. “that's the most you've ever said to me.” he said, holding the side of your face. “im not gonna bite , don't worry okay?” he leaned in, his lips dangerously close to yours, almost touching. “you're safe with me.” he closed the gap between you; his pillowy lips on yours , it felt like fireworks were going off inside your stomach, you closed your eyes, he softly caressed your cheek— he was fighting every demon inside to not stick his tongue into your mouth.

unfortunately you both needed oxygen; so he slowly pulled away, he chuckled as your lips chased after his. “hey, hey calm down.” his kissed the tip of your nose. “you want another?” he whispered, you nodded. “you can speak can't you darling?” his other hand come to your knees cap, rubbing gently. “all i need you to say is yes.” he waited patiently until you softly muttered a yes, and his lips were back on yours.

your hands shaking, picking at your skirt; he grabbed your wrist , pulling away. “you can touch me it's alright.” he guided your hand to his face, his skin soft. “good girl.” he said, smirking. “your lips are all swollen now, you liked that?” you nodded, your cheeks hot. “you're so cute, i can see in your eyes you want more.” he said. “but you don't even know what you want do you?”

“i-i don't.” he tilted his head to the side. “you want my help?” you wanted something from the boy, but losing your virginity wasn't something on the top of your list so you never thought about it; what if that was something that made him uncomfortable. “i see the gears turning in your head, if i didn't want this, i would've gotten up after kissing you the first time.” his hands were now easing up your skirt. “i can make you feel good.” he whispered, kissing your ear, blowing on it. “just give me the okay.”

he was holding back for you; he didn't want to scare you, but he couldn't deny the heat burning in his stomach, or the tightening below his belt buckle. “angel i don't mean to rush you, but fuck you're killing me with this silence.” he dry laughed. “i kinda need an answer.”

“o-okay.” he got off the bed, ridding himself of his shirt, unbuckling his pants. “can you take your shirt off for me?” his eyes lowered as you slowly lifted your shirt up; his cock twitching in his pants , it felt like his was a dream he had once or twice. “good girl.”

he gently laid you back on the bed, sunghoon was gonna kill him, but in the end he didn't care, he wasn't waiting any longer to have you. “i got you.” he was in between your legs, looking down at you all laid out for him, you looked like an angel , skirt above your waist — he almost felt bad for the things he was about to do to you. “let me do all the work.”

his hands came to your shoulders, lowering your bra straps, his hand was under you, undoing the back of your bra, sliding it off your body, revealing your perfect tits. “fuck, i dreamt of this for a long time baby.” both his hands were up your skirt, pulling down your panties. “gonna keep these.” he smirked, you whined. “keep making those pretty noises.”

kissing both of your breasts, making his way down your stomach, holding your legs wide open for him. “pretty little pussy.” he kissed in between your thighs. “bet you she tastes real good.” then you felt the sensation of his tongue on your heat. “o-oh.” you gasped. “you like that?” he licked another stripe , your hand came up to his hair, you balled your fist up. “pull it , i like that baby.”

he didn't say anything else before diving straight in, your cunt dripping on his tongue, like candy , so sweet he wanted nothing more than to drown in you. “h-heeseung.” you moaned out , he smirked against your heat , exactly what he wanted to hear , he couldn't help but grind against the bed, his tongue prodding against your hole , he groaned at the feeling of you tugging at his hair as he pushed his muscle inside you.

heeseung knew the inside and out of a girl, he could tell you were about to cum , you tore your eyes from the ceiling , below making eye contact with heeseung as he brought his lips to your clit , sucking on it — before you could even announce anything , you felt the knot in your stomach snap , you let out a moan that you only heard on videos you've watched a couple of times , your legs shaking as heeseung buried his head deeper inside you, cleaning up everything that came out of you , you were so sensitive you had to pull his head away. “it hurts.”

“sorry baby, you just taste too good.” he kissed the inside of your thighs. “i got a little caught up.” his normally put together hair was all messy; his lips were red and he was heavily breathing. “did you like it?” you nodded. “i-i did.”

he was addicted, he needed more from you, he needed to feel more of you. “you wanna feel even better baby?” you nodded. “you've been so vocal this entire time love , you know what i need.” you whimpered. “pl-please , i want you inside me.” he closed his eyes to calm himself; you sounded so desperate. “you want me inside this tiny pussy?”

he quickly rid himself of his jeans, he was just as desperate as you; he felt like a virgin himself , ready to feel you; he's thought about it since the day he saw you in the library. “he-heeseung.” your soft voice , it did everything to him , he could get off to that alone. “yes baby?” you whimpered hearing him calling you that. “will it hurt?”

“for a little bit.” he was in between your legs again, pushing his waistband down , freeing his cock; it was intimidatingly big, red and leaking with pre-cum, bobbing against his abs. “but not for long baby.” you could feel his tip against your hole. “don't worry , i won't hurt you okay?” you felt his tip entering , you hissed at the burning sensation as he filled you. “fuck , fuck baby you're so tight.”

he was losing his mind with how slow he was going; ready to just plunge his cock inside you. “he-heseung.” he kissed your lips. “shh shh , -fuck- baby it's okay, it's okay it's almost over.” he slowly worked himself , until he was fully inside you. “you-you're so big.” he smirked. “yeah baby i know.”

“m'gonna pull out now okay?” you nodded, he slowly pulled out of you , his tip still stuffed inside you. “you ready?” you nodded, he pushed himself back inside you much faster than before. “fuck.” he cursed , moving his hips; your fingers digging into his forearm as he thrusted into you. “f-faster.”

“you -fuck- you sure?” you moaned out a plea, that's all he needed before he was speeding up , sweat beading down his forehead; your cunt squeezing him like a vice, he was in heaven. “you feel so good baby , this pussy is perfect.” he groaned. “only i can touch it , isn't that right baby.” his thumb came to your clit , rubbing harsh circles. “only man to touch you like this , see your pretty face all fucked up.”

he was losing himself fully , his pace picking up, thrust deeper , hitting your cervix. “tell me baby, tell me this pussy is all mine , no man can ever touch you.” you were a moaning mess , eyes closed. “baby look at me.” he said. “look at me baby.” he repeated , his cock slowly dragging inside of you.

you force your eyes open; he was smirking. “good girl, keep looking at me.” he gave your lips another kiss. “tell me who this pussy belongs to.” you whimpered. “yo-you.” he cursed. “exactly baby.” you could feel yourself about to cum. “you gonna cum?” you nodded. “good girl , cum all over my cock.” you moaned out your legs wrapping around his waist. “fuck baby , if you don't unwrap your legs , im gonna cum inside you.”

you moaned out. “you want that baby , want me to cum inside you?” he was about to blow his load. “fuck baby i need a answer , or you need to unwrap your legs.” he cursed holding himself back from cumming. “pl-please cum inside me.”

his eyes rolled to the back of his head, as he came, you can feel him empty inside of you. “shit, baby.” he twitched. “you okay?” you were a little sore , but you'll be fine. “sunghoon is gonna kill me.” you chuckled breathlessly. “i-i'm sorry.” he shook his head. “no don't worry about it baby, let's just worry about getting you home okay , getting you cleaned up , i'll make sure your friend gets back to your dorm safely after okay?” you nodded , he help you get dressed. “why are you being so nice to me? did you get what you want?”

“baby , if you took one look up from those books you're always smiling at , you would've noticed me looking at you.” he said. “i told you i wouldn't have brought you up here if i didn't want to.” you smiled shyly , he caressed your cheek. “okay.” you whispered , he held his hands out. “come.”

“lets get you home baby , i’ll stay with you.”

©LUVYENI

[hcneymooners]

best friends mom ambessa? perchance? love ur fics 🤍

⋆ you made me crazy, you made me wild.

best friend's mother!ambessa x curvy!f!reader. men & minors dni.

synopsis: a psychic once told you you'd have the kind of love that would mark you for the rest of your life. did it have to be with your best friend's mother?

cw: milf!bessa, age difference, older woman/younger woman, modern au, you and mel are best friends, long rich people vacations, curvy!reader, reader is implied to be a woc but you can still read regardless, forbidden love, sneaking around, vaping bc i have an oral fixation however i have never once smoked i just like the vibe i fear, non-sexual intimacy, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, overstimulation (bessa!receiving, r!recieving), multiple orgasms, tribbing, cunnilingus (bessa!receiving), you go to town on her my god, squirting (bessaaaa does it), tender sex, floor sex, manhandling, light angst, friendship breakups, angst with a happy ending.

notes: perchance is killing me. thank you so much for being so sweet mami. hope you enjoy. also, don't vape kids!

you and mel haven't spoken in three weeks.

the thought sits heavy in your chest as you perch on the window seat of your boutique, one leg tucked beneath you, the other dangling lazily. your cream silk camisole rides up your belly, catching on the velvet cushions behind you. outside, venice beach awakens like a lioness stretching in the sun, all languid and golden.

the brass bell above your door chimes softly in the morning breeze. your fingers find your vape – a delicate thing of gold, engraved with climbing roses – and bring it to your lips in a motion as natural as breathing.

the sweet ghost of vanilla mango curls around you like a familiar lover. you've always needed something between your lips, a fact that amuses your friends and once made ambessa raise an eyebrow in that way that sent heat flooding through your body.

the recent mornings have been sadder and slower than most, though objectively one wouldn’t be able to tell. you keep waking in fits, your body heavy with mourning. your reflection in the shop window shows what you've become in her absence: curves nestled in vintage, mussed hair tumbling past your shoulders, lips stained the color of crushed berries.

a crystal pendant nestles in the soft valley between your breasts, and your rings catch the light as you fidget with the hemline of your denim cutoffs. there's nothing calculated about your appearance today – no performance or intention. it's as honest as you can muster this morning.

the wooden floor creaks beneath your bare feet as you move to arrange a display of moonstone rings. your own fingers are adorned with gold bands, each one telling a story of who you were before that summer in england. before mel, before her mother and that library with its leather-bound books and muggy afternoons, before you watched her, endeared as she peered at her phone with those sunglasses perched on the top of her head.

before you realized that the soft animal of your body had found its home in the worst fucking lineage alive.

your phone lights up again – another message from mel. her name on the screen sends a fresh wave of guilt through you, but not regret. never regret. not about the way her mother’s hands felt on your waist in the conservatory, not about the first kiss that tasted of chlorine and whiskey, not even about the screaming match that ended with you on a plane back to california.

you take another long drag from your vape, watching the morning light fracture through hanging crystals into rainbow patterns across your skin. the salt air mingles with your perfume – something expensive and european that ambessa had picked out because she liked to dress you like a little doll, build your body up.

a customer pushes open the door, sending the brass bell into a symphony, and you unfold yourself from the window seat. your reflection shows a woman who knows exactly who she is – soft-bodied but steel-spined, tarnished but holding out for healing.

you tuck the vape into a vintage ceramic dish beside your register, next to the rose quartz crystal your psychic insisted would bring your true love back to you. you're not sure you believe it, but you keep it close anyway, just in case the universe is listening.

the customer's voice hits you like a wave – crisp, cultured british vowels discussing the merits of different pieces. it's nothing like ambessa's voice, really, but it's enough to send you tumbling back into that summer, that first day when everything changed.

𓇼

mel had been waiting at heathrow, practically vibrating with anxiety, her locs spun into a tight chignon at the nape of her neck—a nervous habit since childhood. you'd fallen into each other's arms like you always did, all tears and high laughter, ignoring the disapproving looks from passing businessmen. it was the same way you'd hugged since you were five, sharing grape juice boxes and childish fantasies on the playground.

"it's just a little cottage in the countryside," mel had said on facetime, twisting her initial necklace. "very quaint, very english. you'll probably think it's charming." what she hadn't mentioned was that her "cottage" was actually a sprawling estate that made downton abbey look modest.

honey-colored stone stretched towards the sky, windows gleaming like diamonds in the afternoon sun. the gravel drive seemed endless, winding through gardens that swallowed the sun within their towering walls. it must’ve been a dream to grow up here, small feet tumbling through the mazes and nothing but the entire world before you. your hand was still clasped in hers on the gearshift of her vintage mercedes, just like always, but you could feel her fingers trembling slightly.

"mom's probably in the library," mel said, killing the engine. "she's got this thing about afternoon light."

she chewed her lip, a habit you recognized from exam days and first dates.

"just… don't take it personally if she's a bit… well, you know. she can be kind of intense. dad always says she's an acquired taste."

you remember adjusting your dress, a red-and-white gingham number that clung delicately to your stomach. the bow at the bust had come undone at least three times that morning, and the skirt, airy and flared, fluttered in the slightest breeze. it felt a little too simple, too worn for the looming grandeur of mel’s childhood home, but you hadn’t thought to pack anything else. besides, something was grounding about it—the way the cotton pressed against your skin, the familiar weight of the straps on your shoulders, like it was trying to remind you who you were.

you followed mel through halls lined with oil paintings and antiquities. your sandals clicked against marble floors, echoing off high ceilings. everything smelled overwhelmingly of jasmine and time passed, the atmosphere practically bloated by money’s touch.

and then there was ambessa.

she stood in a shaft of golden light, tall and elegant in a cream linen suit that probably cost more than your entire wardrobe. silver threaded through her dark hair which was braided down into a neat, long plait and when she turned, her eyes caught yours with an intensity that made your knees weak. your psychic's words echoed in your head – "your palm reads of a love that will shake you. stand fast, girl." – and something in your chest shifted, like tectonic plates realigning.

"mom, this is my best friend," mel was saying, but her voice seemed to come from very far away. you noticed how she shifted her weight from foot to foot, how her fingers twisted in the waistband of her maxi skirt. "the one i've been telling you about."

ambessa's handshake was firm, her skin warm against yours.

"welcome to our home," she said, and her voice – god, her voice was like honey over gravel, like smoke and leather. "i trust you'll find everything… adequate."

you managed to say something appropriate, probably, though you couldn't remember what. all you could focus on was the way ambessa's eyes lingered on the wide basket of your waist, the delicate line of your collarbone, the pearl drop nestled between your breasts. it felt like a cigarette dragged slowly across your skin.

later, sprawled across mel's massive bed like you used to do at sleepovers, both of you tipsy on expensive wine stolen from the cellar, mel talked about her latest boyfriend drama – some posh boy from oxford who couldn't commit – while you traced patterns on her linen sheets. but your mind kept drifting to the library, to ambessa's knowing smile, to the way she'd looked at you over dinner like you were a deer she very much wanted to fell.

you didn't know then that those looks would become your undoing.

𓇼

you couldn't sleep that first week, your body stubbornly running on pacific time. the massive house creaked and whispered at night, all those endless corridors filled with shadows. you'd taken to wandering, padding through the halls in your cotton shorts and an old guns & roses tee, your thick hair piled high in a silk scarf that your grandmother had taught you to wrap just so.

that's how she found you the third night, curled up in the window seat of the informal library (because of course there were multiple libraries), reading the beautiful and damned by phone light. your bare legs were tucked up under you, painted toes peeking out, a half-eaten peach leaving sticky fingerprints on the pages.

"fitzgerald at three in the morning?" her voice was rough with sleep, but still commanding. ambessa stood in the doorway in a black silk robe that made your mouth go dry, her hair loose around her shoulders. "how terribly american of you."

"can't sleep," you drawled, your accent thick and lazy in the quiet. "time zones are, like, totally brutal."

the ghost of a smile touched her lips at your exaggerated californian lilt, and something warm unfurled in your chest when her eyes lingered on your face, studying you with a naked interest that made your skin prickle.

it became a ritual after that – you in your sun-faded pajamas, her in sophisticated sleepwear that probably cost more than your rent. she'd pour two fingers of sherry ("none of that silly wine you girls keep stealing." “yeah, sorry about that.”), and you'd talk about everything and nothing.

you told her about your boutique—at the time—dream, about learning to make jewelry from an old hippie who read tarot cards on the boardwalk. she spoke of art acquisitions and board meetings, but sometimes, when the night grew soft and heavy around you, she'd share pieces of herself that felt like an easy glimpse into your future.

mel noticed, of course she did.

"mum’s different with you," she said one afternoon, watching you apply coconut oil to your sun-warmed skin by the pool. her voice was careful, measured in a way that made your stomach twist. "she actually laughs at your jokes. she never laughs at anyone's jokes."

you hummed noncommittally, pretending to be absorbed in moisturizing. but you could feel mel's eyes on you, the same sharp gaze she'd inherited from her mother, taking in how you'd started wearing your nicest pajama sets to your nighttime wanderings, how you'd borrowed one of her expensive face creams "just to test it out."

during the days, you'd lounge in the massive gardens with mel, your skin deepening to further in the english sun while she talked less and less about her boyfriend's drama and more about how strange it was to see her mother so… present. but at night – at night you belonged to the library, to raspy-voiced conversations and loaded silences, to the way ambessa's eyes would trace the crescent of your folded body, the arch of your neck, the fullness of your lips.

"you're nothing like i expected," she said one night, two months in, her voice low and intimate in the darkness. you were sprawled on the persian rug, head tipped back against a leather armchair, humming some alternative song under your breath. your skin glowed warm and rich in the lamplight, a sharp contrast to the pale marble and cream walls surrounding you.

"oh?" you looked up at her through your lashes, feeling brave from the whiskey and the late hour. "what did you expect?"

"someone more like mel's other friends. polished. proper." her lips curved around the words as if they amused her. "not this beautiful little creature in threadbare pajamas, so full of freedom and self-assuredness. you hold your own."

beautiful. the word hung in the air between you, dangerous and flickering. like the growing tension you felt whenever mel watched you both at dinner, her eyes narrowing at each shared glance, each lingering moment. you sat up slowly, your movements sluggish and dream-like.

"i don’t. not really. you make me nervous, but i learned early on how to fake it."

her eyes met yours in the dim light, and the air flooded with something thick and heady. your body felt electric. behind you, a floorboard creaked – mel, you'd realize later, watching from the doorway with dawning understanding.

but in that moment, all you could see was ambessa, all you could feel was the weight of what was building between you, an avalanche you were both choosing to let bury you.

in a matter of minutes, she had her hands on you, your back against her firm chest with two fingers tucked inside of your cunt. your legs sprawled open, your pussy blossoming with arousal like rain on roses.

she was softer than you’d imagined, but it was almost relieving. the tenderness did more for you anyway, sent your pulse more freely throughout your body.

you bucked your hips as heat spiraled up from the base of your spine. ambessa pressed you back down, fingers gripping deeply into your thighs.

“no,” she murmured. “stay down.”

you were nestled into her lap, her fingers milking you gently as you arched. your voice seemed caught in your throat, your neck extended in expectation of a kiss. she indulged you, mouth capturing yours while her thumb slipped past your thatch of curls to play with your clit.

the kiss was wet and sloppy, uncoordinated as a result of your jerking body. still, she fed from you reaping kiss after kiss, suckling at your tongue. she groaned into your lips as you threaded a harsh hand into her hair, pining her face against yours.

in response, she inserted a third finger. you let out a high moan at the added stimulation, rooting a hand around her neck to better fuck yourself down. she laughed lightly at your desire, pumping faster until your cunt dribbled gratitude down her knuckles.

“there you go, sweet girl,” she cooed and you shivered.

you suddenly understood cults and their leaders, how special you could feel when their attention was laved over you. you were trying your best to remain quiet, thick thighs trembling as she fucked you a little harder. your tits were bouncing as you met her thrusts and she hid her face into your neck, sucking and biting lightly.

with a muffled squeal you came, squirting lavishly all over where the two of you were locked together. true to her nature, ambessa didn’t give you a moment. with an efficient maneuver, she slid you around and on top of her. it was then that you realized she was naked, robe hanging open at her sides. you weren’t given a second to admire her.

instead, she tucked you into her and kissed you as she extended her legs out and settled you onto her warm cunt. you collapsed fully into her, face buried in the soft crevice of her heavy tits. she let out a slight hum of satisfaction as she slotted your clits together, hooking a leg over you to better increase the spread of your puffy pussy. eventually, you understood the intention and began to rock steadily against her.

the friction was heavenly and you clutched her tightly, burrowing into her broad body as you chased your pleasure. ambessa was just as frantic, snapping up with a hand anchored into your hair. your silk scarf had fallen long ago but you didn’t worry about it. all that mattered was her deep groans of pleasure and the way she kept fucking up against you.

“fuck, honey,” she murmured and you wanted to tell her that you knew, that you understood.

but you couldn’t. you were rendered pathetic by the threat of your second orgasm and settled for cumming inside of her with a wet wail. you could feel her legs shaking but you knew she hadn’t finished, and with a great groan you slid off of her.

stumbling slightly, you stood and rearranged so that you were kneeling in between the apex of her legs with your ass high in the air. as you dripped onto the carpet you began to lap at her and reached a hand up to twist and pinch at her nipples, alternating between her tits.

her breath began to shudder, her chest heaving as she ground down on her tongue. it only took a couple more broad strokes up her pussy and a relentless circling of her clit for her to finish, the liquid dowsing your nose and chin. the spray was thick and warm.

pleased, you hummed into her and started the whole thing up again. she cried out, legs closing around you in a suffocating crush.

not once did you let go.

𓇼

the fight had been brutal. even now, the memory makes your stomach churn—leaves you flinching, sick, and unsteady.

“jesus, [name],” mel’s voice had been sharp, cutting through the quiet. “you’re playing house with my fucking mother.”

“mel—”

“no!” she snapped, her words laced with disbelief and venom. “i can’t believe you. what? are you just desperate? taking whatever scraps you can get? ‘but i love her, melly!’”

her voice pitched high, mocking, cruel in a way you’d never heard before.

“i mean, my god, just go to therapy. don’t go fucking my mother!”

your hand cracked against her cheek before you even registered the motion.

“fuck you,” you spat, trembling, the tears hot and blinding.

she staggered back a step, wide-eyed and disbelieving. you mirrored her shock, your palm still stinging. the silence that followed was suffocating, broken only by the harsh sound of both your breaths. ambessa had stepped out moments before—it was just the two of you now, suspended in the aftermath.

her lips parted as if to say something, but no words came.

your ticket was booked that afternoon, your bag packed by evening. you were gone before the sun had fully set.

𓇼

you close the shop early, your hands moving automatically as the weight of the day presses down on you.

the steady drag on your vape blurs the edges of your thoughts, a small comfort that does nothing to ease the growing ache in your chest. by the time you arrive home, the haze has lifted, but it leaves behind a sharp clarity: you’re alone. sadder than anything. the kind of heartbroken that settles deep in your bones and brings you down, quiet and constant like a low hum you can’t escape.

so you’re surprised when you’re met with a sleek range rover loitering in the parking lot outside your apartment complex.

you didn’t expect to see her this soon. or ever. didn’t want to. three weeks of silence, of space between you both, and you thought you were okay with it. you’d been fine with the quiet, with the absence. but there she is.

mel is right outside your building, sitting pretty and cross-legged in the backseat, the car’s headlights casting long, soft shadows over the cracked pavement. ambessa is sitting in the passenger seat, her face illuminated by the glow from the dashboard, and something about the way she holds herself makes it clear that she’s on the edge. she probably didn’t even want to do this. maybe she’d flown here for mel. maybe mel had flown here for you.

your chest tightens as you stand there, frozen for a moment, caught between the impulse to walk away and the need to understand what’s brought them here. you don’t move, just watch.

the undiscovered truth is that ambessa’s done this for both of you.

mel’s been struggling without you. she’s noticed it; this is her daughter after all. mel hasn’t said it outright, but ambessa can see it in the way her shoulders slump when she talks to anyone else, the small, tired smiles that don’t reach her eyes. she’s miserable without her best friend. and then—gradually—ambessa realized how much she needed you, too. wanted you.

the air between you and the car is heavy with guilt and longing. you can see it in mel’s face, too—how much she loves her mother, how she wants this to be different, even if she doesn’t quite know how to fix it.

and you? you feel a bit numb. maybe it’s the dredges of your vanilla buzz. the sadness in your chest, the loneliness, the quiet hope that maybe—just maybe—this could still work? it’s half dead, half living. you can’t tell if you’re ready to talk, to face what’s been left unsaid for so long. but you know one thing for sure: you’ve missed them both.

you keep standing there, rooted to the spot, watching the car like it’s some kind of omen. the silence feels louder than anything you’ve heard in weeks. ambessa remains in the passenger seat, her gaze distant, like she’s trying to work through something too. you don’t know what it is—whether it’s the weight of her possible regret or the silent pressure she’s putting on her daughter.

mel shifts in her seat, and then, before you can even brace yourself, she’s out of the car, the door slamming shut behind her. she’s standing in front of you now, her eyes wide with something that looks like hesitation.

“i didn’t know where else to go,” she says, her voice quiet but raw.

you don’t know what to say. the words that have been sitting in your throat for weeks suddenly seem impossible to spit out. you want to scream, to ask her why she didn’t come sooner, why it took so long. but all you can do is stand there, your chest tight and aching.

“you don’t have to say anything,” mel continues, her eyes darting between your face and the ground. “i just… i didn’t know what else to do. my mom’s…” she trails off, and there’s something in her voice—something that sounds like both love and frustration.

“she’s been miserable without you. i’ve been miserable without you.”

the admission hangs between you, thick and vulnerable. your breath catches in your throat. you didn’t know how much you missed her until this moment. you want to reach out, to pull her close, but you don’t. the ground between you both feels too fragile. finally, you speak.

“you deserve an apology too,” you croak out. “i shouldn’t have gone behind your back and i sure as hell should have never fucking hit you. it was unacceptable and i’m sorry, melly.”

her eyes grow bright and glassy with tears. she nods.

“i’m not going to say it’s fine because it’s not. but thank you for apologizing.”

you nod, resigned to another night of crying yourself to sleep.

i realized,” mel says wetly, “before this whole thing i’d never—i’d never seen you in love. i’ve never seen you that happy. i’m sorry for mocking that especially since you’ve never had that before, and it’s all you’ve ever wanted.”

you shrug, looking away.

“it’s how i’ve been living.”

before mel can say anything else, ambessa opens her door and steps out of the car. she’s quiet, her movements deliberate, but there’s something gentle in the way she walks toward you. she stops just a foot away, and without a word, she closes the gap and cups your face in her hands, her palms warm against your skin.

you blink, the shock of her touch overwhelming.

“i can’t believe you’re here,” you tell her, your voice cracking down the middle. “have you even been to california before?”

and it’s so stupid to say when you haven’t fucking seen her in months, haven’t stopped loving her for days, but ambessa only smiles. her eyes soften as she leans in, her lips brushing your forehead in a delicate.

“i’ve only ever tasted it,” she murmurs, her breath warm against your skin.

© hcneymooners.

⚚ special taglist: @astarcalledtala @sugrcookiiee @16novvs @tnash-tammy @dyk3miffy @iwasholic @fruitfulfashion @absandsevikasgirl @blackdykegirlblogger @fortluocha @neganwifey25-blog @rottngrl3

[yikes-aemond]

Hello!!!! How are you? Are you willing to do a Benjicot X Tully!Reader oneshot?

Benji being a little puppy in love with a serious, blunt, very introverted and book-loving Tully, since they were children, and that is the reason why he often bothered her. Tully! Reader has a habit of throwing things at his head when she loses her patience.

Many hugs 💖💖💖🤗🤗🤗

You can hear it in the silence.

pairing: Benjicot Blackwood (fancast!Kieran Burton) x Tully!fem!reader (no physical descriptions of reader)

warnings: none, pure fluff

summary: You and Benjicot Blackwood meet as children and proceed to hate each other for years. Until one day, you didn't.

word count: 3.1k 

author note: Thank you so much for the request! I’m sorry it took me a little while to complete it, but I hope I did your story idea justice. I’m hesitant to say this because I should be working on the next part of “I love you. It’s ruining my life.” but I have an idea for a part 2 to this story, so let me know if there is interest! Love you babes. Happy reading! 

On your tenth name day, Benjicot Blackwood put a frog in your bed.

First light had not yet broken. You floated in that hazy space, not quite dreaming and not quite awake, content to stay beneath the warmth of your covers. 

You had stayed up too late the night before. After stealing a half dozen honey cakes from the kitchens, you had wandered to the library, seeking comfort from the rows upon rows of books until the hour of the wolf ushered in your name day. 

You did not recall how you made it from the library to your bed. Your father most likely. 

Lord Elmo Tully was prone to sleepless nights, and often took to walking Riverrun at night to ease his troubles. On more than one occasion, he had found you face down on a study table, cheek pressed into the page of a book, after spending too many hours lost in tales of knights and princesses and children of the forest. And each time he found you, he would pick you up gently, careful not to wake you, and carry you back to bed.

Elmo Tully was not always the most present father. But he did not discourage your preferences for reading over needlework. He defended you when the Septa scolded you for ink-stained hands and unkempt dresses. And he did not try to force friendship between you and the other ladies your age.

You would not call yourself a lonely child. Although you often kept your own company, you did not mind the solitude, did not mind the quiet and peace compared to the noise and chatter that often accompanied children your own age. Sure, there were those in Riverrun who called you strange when they thought you and the rest of the Tullys were out of earshot, never daring to speak too loudly when your grandfather was the Lord Paramount. 

Not that the whispers bothered you. As long as you had books and honey cakes, you were happy to be alone. 

A fact that you were rudely reminded of when you rolled over in bed on the morning of your tenth name day, seeking out the touch of your favorite doll. But instead of feeling the soft, plush doll, you felt something slimy and cold and wet. And then you heard a distinct croak. 

Screaming, you leapt out of bed, sheets twisting around your body. Frantic to get away from whatever creature had scurried into your bed. You landed on the floor with a harsh thud. From your vantage on the floor, you saw a frog leap from your bed toward the window on the far side of the room.

Frogs were not an uncommon sight at Riverrun. After all, your home was surrounded on all sides by rivers and moats and marshland. But never in your life had you heard of a frog sneaking into someone’s bed. 

Only when you heard laughter on the other side of your chambers’ door did you realize what had happened. 

You cheeks flashed hot as you picked yourself up off the floor. Seeing red, you threw the door open, a glare so disapproving on your face that it would have turned a lesser man to stone. 

But not the idiots who stood before you. 

Your brothers, Oscar and Kermit, were clutching onto each other, eyes nearly in tears from the force of their laughter. You would have words with them later. You knew the real culprit behind the prank. 

Leaning against the wall with an insufferable smirk on his face was Benjicot Blackwood. Heir to Raventree Hall, your brothers’ best friend, and the bane of your existence. 

“Something amiss, my lady?” He had the audacity to ask. 

At the age of two and ten, Benjicot was tall for his age. He had not quite grown into himself, all long limbs and sharp angles. Despite his prowess with a dagger and sword, he had not yet matured out of his love for boyish pranks. 

And he especially loved tormenting you.

Benjicot had no younger siblings. His aunt Alysanne was the closest relative to his age, but she had little patience for Benjicot, preferring her bow to most people. A sentiment you shared. 

You first met Benjicot when you were seven, and he was nine. For the last three years, Benjicot had spent a few weeks in the high summer months as a ward at Riverrun, training and sparring and hunting with your brothers. The three were thick as thieves—Oscar and Kermit had loved Benjicot instantly. All close in age, all young and eager to prove themselves.

You had never been close with your brothers. You had little in common with them. But when Benjicot came to stay, and when you watched them laugh and joke and share secrets, you felt that sharp pang of otherness. Felt the sting of always being on the outside, both from your own family and the rest of those who resided at Riverrun. 

And now he had dared to pull a prank on you on your name day. 

“The only thing amiss is your presence here, Blackwood. Were you not supposed to return to Raventree Hall yesterday?” 

Benjicot shrugged. “I wouldn't dream of missing your name day.” 

You wanted to launch yourself at him, tackle him to the ground and remove that insufferable smirk from his face. You resisted the urge, but just barely. 

“The best name day present you could have given me would have been your absence.” You sneered. 

Huffing a laugh, Benjicot straightened and grabbed your brothers by the shoulder, nudging them away from your chambers. “Sorry to disappoint. I had rather hoped you would have liked the frog.” 

Turning away from you and following your brothers, Benjicot called out over his shoulder, "Perhaps you should have kissed the frog, my lady. Could have turned it into a prince like in all those fairytales you love so much.” 

You clenched your fists and tried to think of clever response. But nothing came to mind, so you settled for slamming your door closed. You could still hear the echo of their laughter in the hallway. 

Back against the door, cheeks hot and flushed, you slid to the floor and wrapped your arms around your legs, bringing your knees to your chest. 

It was not the first time Benjicot Blackwood made you cry. 

No matter how hard you tried to ignore Benjicot during his yearly visits, you were never successful in escaping him. Every year he managed to find you, tease you, get under your skin and stay there. 

There was the year he hid rotting fish in the floor boards of your chambers. The smell was so unbearable that you had to move rooms. 

Or the time he startled you when you were helping a kitchen maid carry a sack of flour, sending the sack flying and leaving you looking like a ghost. 

Passing you the salt instead of sugar for your tea, causing you to spew tea all over the dining table at breakfast. 

Hiding your favorite books in the armory. (When you finally discovered the books, you chased Benjicot around the training yard, hurling the books at his head, much the amusement of your father and brothers.) 

Sending you on false errands on supposed orders from your father, resulting in you interrupting a meeting of the River lords that left you so embarrassed and humiliated that you refused to come out of your chambers for three days. 

Benjicot never went too far, never did anything so terrible as to warrant true ire from your father and grandfather. Each time you voiced your hatred for Benjicot and his pranks to them, begging them to send him back to Raventree Hall, they patted your head, said boys would be boys, and moved on. 

With each passing year, your tolerance for the pranks grew less and less. Even if you had come to expect them. 

So, on your fifteenth name day, you were not surprised when Benjicot sought you out in the library. 

You knew he had arrived for his stay earlier in the day. He was delayed in returning to Riverrun this year—a skirmish with the Brackens had resulted in weeks of tension and negotiations amongst the River lords. 

At seven and ten, Benjicot was nearly a man. He had grown into his height and filled out in his shoulders, lean and strong and, if rumors were to be believed, now lethal with a sword and dagger. 

Never backed down from a challenge. Fearless in a fight. Ruthless to those who crossed him. 

Your brothers, with all the cleverness in their heads, had nicknamed him Bloody Ben. 

You could not quite merge the two Benjicots in your mind—the boy from your childhood who teased and taunted but was quick to laugh and joke, with the man who had taken his first kill with a smile on his face. 

When Benjicot appeared before you, leaning over the table where you sat with your book, you were not sure what to make of him. 

Snatching the book from your hands, you watched as his eyes skimmed the first few lines on the page, before he smirked down at you. “A romance? I did not take you for a simpering romantic.” 

You rolled your eyes and grabbed the book back. “And I never took you for a deaf half-wit, Blackwood. I distinctly remember telling you at the last assize that I never wanted to see your face again.”

Last year’s assize had been rather uneventful. That is, until the closing feast when Benjicot had teased you relentlessly for reading a book at dinner that you felt compelled to throw the book at his head. Of course, you missed his head, instead hitting a poor servant who was tasked with carrying the roast pig, sending both the servant and pig to the floor. 

Your father and grandfather had been less than pleased. 

Benjicot looked at the ceiling to hide his amusement before glancing back at you. With a smile on his face, he said, “You wound me, my lady.”

You narrowed your eyes, shooting him a look of disbelief. “And you annoy me, my lord.” 

Rather than be put out by that insult, Benjicot looked delighted. He leaned a little closer into your space, so much so that you felt the hair on your arms stand to attention, your skin turning to gooseflesh at his proximity.

For as much as you hated Benjicot, hated the way he teased you, hated the way he sometimes made you feel like an outsider in your own family, he was one of the most handsome boys you had ever met.

Dark, wavy hair that never seemed controlled. Eyes that turned green in the sunlight. A small scar on his upper lip that somehow made him look distinguished. 

You hugged the book to your chest and tried not to fidget under his gaze. You exhaled slowly before asking, “Why are you here?” 

Benjicot held your eyes for another beat before breaking the contact and straightening to his full height. Reaching into the pouch fastened at his hip, he said, “I have a present for you.”

You leaned back in your chair and crossed your arms. “I have never much cared for your presents. They tend to crawl or smell.”

Laughing, Benjicot pulled a necklace out of the pouch. “You will be pleased to know this gift neither crawls nor smells.”

You were stunned to say the least, eyes wide and mouth parted in surprise. You probably looked like a fish, but you could not help it. 

The necklace was beautiful. A delicate, silver chain with two gemstones at the end. A mud-red ruby and a blue sapphire—the perfect representation of House Tully’s colors. Simple and elegant. You were at a loss for words, and you felt your cheeks flush at the gift. 

Your heart skipped a beat as Benjicot approached you. The smile he was giving you was one you had never seen before—warm and soft. All traces of teasing gone from his demeanor. 

He stopped just before you. Holding out the necklace for you to take, he asked, “Do you like it?”

You stood, heart hammering as you took the necklace from him. You turned the necklace over in your hands, admiring the detail in the braided chain and the quality of the stones. Your throat felt parched, but you managed to say, “It’s lovely.” 

You glanced back up at Benjicot to find his eyes already on you, face closer to yours than you remembered. “I’m glad you like it, my lady.”

You had never seen Benjicot like this. Had never seen him be this sweet or shy before. You were not even sure he was capable of being sweet. 

Of course, there were moments over the years when he had shown you kindness. He was not always playing the jester. 

When you had twisted your ankle while walking in the godswood, Benjicot had insisted on carrying you to the maester, even when you protested that you were fine and perfectly capable of walking on your own. 

When you had gotten sick with a fever two years ago, leaving you bedridden and delirious for weeks, Benjicot had brought you dozens of books from the library, anything to keep your mind sharp and spirit strong.

And when you had mentioned that your favorite sweet was honey cakes, Benjicot brought you a batch from the cooks at Raventree Hall, claiming that Raventree’s cakes were superior to all others. (They were.) 

You had never felt more aware of yourself than you did at this moment, standing before Benjicot. You were in uncharted territory. Heart thumping in your chest. Palms beginning to sweat. Cheeks warm and flushed. You were nervous. And you had never been nervous in front of Benjicot before. 

You smiled, small and shy and a little embarrassed. You did not know where you found the courage, and you could not hold his gaze, but you found yourself asking, “Will you put it on me?”

Benjicot’s smile widened, nodding eagerly as he took the necklace back, your hands brushing in the exchange. Only for a moment, but enough to send a small jolt through your arm. 

You turned, giving him your back so that he could not see how deeply you were affected by the brief touch.

But with your back to him, you did not see how Benjicot looked at you. Did not see the way his eyes softened and traced your form. Did not see how his own cheeks flushed. Did not see how he had to swallow his nerves as he gently moved your hair off the nape of your neck. 

You felt the cold press of the chain against your neck and chest, felt the warmth of Benjicot’s fingers as he fastened the clasp. His touch lingering perhaps a second or two longer than necessary. 

You turned before Benjicot had a chance to step back. Your chests nearly touching with how close the two of you stood.

You had never been this close to a boy before. Had never felt your breath mix with another. Eyes locked on each other, gazes searching. 

Benjicot slowly raised his hand, fingers leaving a feather-light touch against your cheek as he moved a lock of hair behind your ear. 

You watched as his eyes shifted down to your lips before returning to your eyes. There was a question in his gaze, one you were not sure you knew how to answer. 

You had read about kisses in books. Kisses shared between a knight and a fair maiden after a daring escape. Secret, daring kisses between two lovers caught on opposite sides of a war. Passionate kisses. Sweet kisses. Slow and deep, or fast and hot.

You had never been kissed before. Had never given much thought to who would claim your first kiss. You had assumed the kiss belonged to your future lord husband, as propriety demanded.

But in that moment, in the quiet of the library on your name day, you wanted to give that kiss to Benjicot.

Maybe somewhere in your heart, hidden and buried deep, you had pictured the kiss being with Benjicot all along. He could have easily been another brother to you, with his obnoxious pranks and teasing smiles.

Except that you never thought of him as a brother.

He was Benjicot Blackwood. Someone who was always there, even when you did not wish for him to be. Strong and dependable. A force to be reckoned with, one who demanded your attention and settled for nothing less. You could not imagine a world in which he did not exist in your life.

You licked your lips and slowly closed your eyes. 

Benjicot took your cheek into his hand, tilting your head slightly to the right. You felt his other hand pull at your waist, bringing the two of you even closer together. 

You knew what was about to happen. Knew that despite all the teasing and hostility and pranks, you were about to have your first kiss. You had never dreamed of this, never thought you would ever be in this position. But the moment felt right—

“Benjicot!” 

You had never moved so quickly. The two of you leapt apart, both breathing heavily as you turned to see Oscar and Kermit stick their heads into the doorway of the library. 

When they spotted the two of you, they smiled, completely oblivious to what they had interrupted. 

You had never hated your brothers more. 

“Come on, Benji!” Kermit shouted, gesturing for Benjicot to come join them. “Father wants to see you.” 

Benjicot nodded, and you watched as he transformed into his usual easygoing demeanor and started toward the door. But at the last moment, he seemed to change his mind.

Turning to you, his back to your brothers, Benjicot reached for your hand and brought it to his lips. A quick press of his lips to the back of your hand had you flushing red all over again. 

“Happy name day, my lady,” he whispered. 

And then he left.

You did not know how long you stood there, unmoving and still as a statue. At some point, you returned to the table, leafing through your book without comprehending a single word. More than once, you caught yourself reaching for the necklace, seeking confirmation that the gift was real, that the moment with Benjicot was real. 

You finally gave up on reading your book, moving to lean against the windowsill and watch the sun set over the training yard. 

You replayed the afternoon over and over in your mind. And the longer you sat with the knowledge that Benjicot wanted to kiss you, and perhaps more surprising, that you wanted to kiss him, the more you wished that your brothers had waited a few moments longer. 

Just before the last light faded and gave way to night, you spotted Benjicot walking across the training yard with your brothers trailing behind. You watched as Oscar gestured wildly, apparently recounting some unbelievable tale to Kermit and Benjicot. Even from a distance, you could see Kermit roll his eyes, exasperation clear on his features. You watched Kermit shove Oscar playfully, causing him to lose his balance and fall into the dirt. 

And while Kermit and Oscar continued to pick at each other and squabble, Benjicot’s gaze shifted to where you sat at the window. Any surprise he felt at finding you watching them quickly dissolved into a wide grin. Ignoring your brothers, Benjicot lifted his hand and waved. 

You answered his wave with one of your own. A soft, secret smile on your lips as you held his gaze. A thousand unspoken words between the two of you. 

A happy name day, indeed. 

final author note: I hope you enjoyed! Any feedback is greatly appreciated. (I think everyone in the taglist below asked to be tagged in all my Benjicot/Davos Blackwood fics, but if I'm wrong, please let me know!)

taglist:

@alifeinspiredd @crownofdecitreadingrespectfully @altaircc

@someblessedgal @devildelilah

[filthygalli]

The Unseen Observer

One shot: F!Reader x Professor! Hwang In-Ho

Main Masterlist

Squid Game Masterlist

Warnings: Age gap, Forbidden relationship, student librarian x teacher relationship, light smut, teasing, sexual innuendo, office sex, manipulation, innocence, not proof read

Word Count: 2741

Author’s Note: Originally a fiction story for my Contemporary professor because he reminds me of byung hun’s character from the picture above.

Y/n stepped into the hushed sanctum of the college library, a realm that had always whispered promises of knowledge and escape. The grand wooden shelves stretched out like welcoming arms, beckoning her deeper into their labyrinthine embrace. She was no stranger to books, but this particular sanctuary felt different, alive with secrets waiting to be uncovered. Today marked her first day as the new librarian, and she couldn't suppress the thrill of excitement that coursed through her veins.

The morning passed in a blur of introductions and orientations, her fingers tracing the spine of books that held galaxies of wonder. She was shown the ropes by Martha, the elderly librarian whose eyes sparkled with wisdom and stories untold. Y/n listened intently, soaking in every detail, her symphony of nerves and anticipation beginning to crescendo.

As the day wore on, Y/n found herself in the spacious reference section, the allure of old treasures too strong to resist. She was lost in the murmurs of decaying paper and faded print when she heard it - a laugh, deep and resonant, echoing from the adjacent lecture hall. Intrigued, she stepped out into the corridor, her gaze drawn towards the source.

Through the window, she saw him. In-Ho, she'd been told, was his name, the new history professor with an engaging smile that could ignite a thousand ships. He was pacing, hands gesturing wildly, his voice weaving words into magic as he spoke about the Reformation. His eyes, intense and vibrant, held the students captive, drawing them into his narrative. Y/n found herself captivated too, her heart pounding in rhythm with his crescendoing oration. When he caught her staring, she quickly ducked back into the safety of the library, cheeks aflame.

The rest of the day was a flutter of heated glances and chance encounters. Y/n found herself reaching for her necklace, a small silver locket that housed a picture of her late mother, a ritual she employed when nerves ran high. Each time she crossed paths with In-Ho, she felt a spark, a silent conversation passing between them, igniting an invisible flame that danced on her skin.

As the sun began its descent, casting warm hues through the stained-glass windows, Y/n found herself alone in the library once more. She was rearranging a stack of books when she noticed something peculiar - a section of the history aisle seemed out of place, the books not quite aligned. Curiosity piqued, she stepped closer, running her fingers along the spines. Her touch paused at 'The History of the French Revolution,' a thick tome that felt oddly hot to touch.

As she pulled out the book, a small, folded note fluttered to the floor. Picking it up, she noticed it was addressed to 'In-Ho.' With a growing sense of trepidation, she opened it, her eyes scanning the intimate words written within. It was a love letter, passionate and raw, detailing stolen moments and whispered promises. Intrigued, she turned it over, her eyes widening at the signature - 'Ellise.' A quick internet search revealed Ellise to be one of In-Ho's students, a pretty girl with doe eyes and a flirtatious smile.

Y/n felt a pang of something - jealousy, perhaps, or maybe it was just the realization that In-Ho, this man who'd set her heart aflutter, wasn't as unattached as she'd hoped. She placed the book and the note back, stepping away as if burned. Just then, she heard footsteps, and In-Ho appeared around the corner, looking every bit as surprised as she felt.

"Y/n," he started, his voice a low rumble, "You're still here."

"Could say the same for you, Professor," she replied, her voice steadier than she felt.

He smiled, a slow, guarded smile, and she felt that spark again, lingering, fiery. "In-Ho," he corrected, stepping closer, "Please, call me In-Ho."

She nodded, her gaze flicking to the bookshelf, to the letter hidden within. "I was just... arranging the books," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze followed hers, lingering on the shelf before returning to her. "You're thorough," he commented, his voice laced with an unspoken challenge.

Y/n felt a blush creeping up her neck, her mind buzzing with questions. She wanted to ask about Ellise, about the heated words in the letter, but she couldn't find the courage. Instead, she simply nodded, stepping away from the shelves, from the temptation they presented.

As she passed him, their arms brushed, and she felt a jolt, a zing of electricity that left her breathless. She could see the same reflection in his eyes, a sizzling heat that spoke of unspoken desires and late-night whispers. With a final glance, she walked away, leaving him and the library's secrets behind, her heart pounding a rhythm of anticipation and dread. Little did she know, this was just the beginning, the first page of a story that was yet to unfold.

Y/n tossed and turned in her bed, the echoes of In-Ho's voice and the hint of illicit words from Ellise's letter refusing to leave her mind. The dance of his fingers against the spines of books, the way his gaze had held hers, it all felt like a secret language, a seductive whisper from behind the dusty tomes. She woke with the sun, her body thrumming with an anticipation she couldn't suppress.

The library was her sanctuary, but today it felt more like a battleground, each aisle a potential encounter, each book a silent witness to her racing heart. She lost herself in the comforting rhythm of organizing returned books, her fingers tracing their worn covers, until a familiar, resonant voice broke her concentration.

"Y/n," In-Ho's voice echoed through the shelves, smooth and inviting, like velvet draped over a blade. She turned to find him leaning against a bookshelf, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. "Planning to stay hidden amongst the books all day?"

She flushed, the implication clear. "I'm working, In-Ho," she replied, her voice steadier than she felt. "Unlike some people who seem to have too much time on their hands."

He pushed off from the shelf, stepping closer, his eyes gleaming. "Oh, Y/n, always so serious. Allez, let's have some fun. Tell me," he paused, his gaze flicking to the book in her hand, "what's your favorite book? The one you'd bring to a deserted island."

Taken aback, she chuckled, the unexpected question disarming her. "White nights," she admitted, noting the surprise in his eyes. "You?"

"'Les Liaisons Dangereuses.' It's... educative," he said, his tone laced with suggestion, his eyes holding hers captive.

Y/n swallowed hard, the title sending a shiver down her spine. The books were a code, a language of their own, and his choice was as bold as a kiss. She could feel the heat radiating off him, see the pulse at his neck quicken. He was playing a game, and she wasn't sure she wanted to play, yet she found herself drawn in, a moth to a flame.

"You know," he continued, his voice a low murmur, "They say libraries are the most erotic places. All these hidden worlds, waiting to be discovered." His gaze drifted to her lips, then back to her eyes, the silent promise clear.

Y/n felt her breath hitch, her heart pounding. The library, their little game of words and inferences, it was intoxicating. She wanted to challenge him, to match his boldness, yet she found herself at a loss for words, her mind blank except for the relentless hammering of her pulse.

In-Ho took her silence as an invitation, stepping even closer, his hand brushing hers as he reached for a book. The touch was electric, a spark that shot straight to her core. She could see the reflection of her desire in his eyes, the pupil dilating, the iris aflame.

"They say knowledge is power," he whispered, his lips brushing her ear, his breath sending shivers down her spine. "But I say, understanding the rules is power. And you, Y/n," he paused, his gaze holding hers, "you're either a master at playing this game or a novice eager to learn."

Before she could respond, he stepped back, a smirk playing on his lips. "Think about it," he said, then turned and walked away, leaving her breathless and wanting.

Y/n stood rooted, her body humming, her mind racing. In-Ho was dangerous, his flirtations bordering on manipulative. But there was no denying the attraction, the thrill of their silent dance. She was stepping into uncharted waters, but somehow, she knew she was willing to dive in, to explore the depths of their shared passion, one word, one touch, one stolen moment at a time.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of restless anticipation. Y/n found herself constantly stealing glances at the lectures hall, catching glimpses of In-Ho in his element, his voice weaving tales that captivated not just his students, but her as well. Each time their eyes met, she felt a jolt, a silent conversation passing between them, a dance of tension and longing.

As the sun began to set, casting the library in a warm, golden hue, Y/n found herself in the rare books section, her fingers tracing the spines of ancient tomes. She was lost in thought, her mind a whirlwind of In-Ho's words and the echoes of their illicit encounters, when she heard footsteps. Turning around, she found In-Ho standing there, his eyes reflecting the warmth of the setting sun.

"Still hidden amongst the books, I see," he said, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Or maybe you're not hiding at all. Maybe you're just waiting."

Y/n raised an eyebrow, her heart pounding. "Waiting for what?"

In-Ho stepped closer, his gaze never leaving hers. "For the right book to find you. Like this one," he murmured, reaching past her to pull out a thick, leather-bound volume.

The sudden proximity made her breath hitch, her body tingling at his closeness. She watched as he opened the book, revealing beautifully illuminated pages. It was a collection of love poems, words that whispered of forbidden desires and stolen moments.

"These are..." she started, her voice barely above a whisper, her mind racing.

"Erotic," In-Ho finished for her, his gaze holding hers. "A perfect reflection of us."

She could feel the heat radiating off him, see the pulse at his neck quicken. The words on the page seemed to dance before her eyes, mirroring the tension between them. Unable to resist, she leaned in, her gaze lingering on his lips.

In-Ho closed the distance, his hand cupping her cheek, his thumb tracing her jawline. His lips met hers in a soft, hesitant kiss, a question more than a statement. Y/n leaned into it, her eyelids fluttering closed, her body humming with desire. His other hand found her waist, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss.

The world around them faded away, the ancient words around them a symphony of their shared passion. His lips were firm, commanding, yet his touch was gentle, exploring. She matched his urgency with her own, her hands tangling in his hair, his shirt bunching in her fists. When they finally broke apart, they were both breathing heavily, their foreheads resting against each other.

"You taste like answers," he whispered, his voice ragged. "And questions. So many questions."

She smiled, her heart pounding. "Maybe we should find a place to... discuss them," she suggested, her voice laced with innuendo.

In-Ho chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down her spine. "My office," he said, stepping back, his gaze holding hers. "Ten minutes. Don't be late."

As she made her way to his office, Y/n couldn't help but feel a thrill of anticipation. They were playing with fire, their passion fueled by the forbidden, their desire to their shared love of literature. Yet, she found herself eager to burn, to explore the depths of their shared passion, one word, one kiss, one stolen moment at a time.

When she stepped into his office, he was waiting, his eyes reflecting the dim light, his lips curled in a smirk. He closed the door behind her, the click echoing like a promise.

"Now," he said, stepping closer, his hand reaching for hers, "where were we?"

Y/n sat across from In-Ho in his cozy office, his desk lamp casting a soft glow on the books stacked haphazardly around them. They were both breathless, their earlier encounter in the rare books section still lingering in the air like a tangible promise. In-Ho reached for a glass of wine, his hand slightly trembling, and topped off their glasses. As he handed her the glass, their fingers brushed, and she felt that now familiar spark.

"You know, Y/n," he began, his voice soft, "you're not what I expected."

She raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of wine. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Good. Definitely good. You're... refreshing. A breath of fresh air in this stuffy old institution."

Y/n felt a warmth spread through her at his words. "Well, I could say the same about you. A history professor with a penchant for romance novels and illicit liaisons in the library. You're full of surprises, In-Ho."

He smirked, taking a sip of his wine. "You have no idea, Y/n. No idea at all." He paused, setting his glass down, his gaze turning serious. "There's something I want to show you. Something I've never shown anyone here."

Intrigued, Y/n watched as he stood up, walking over to a bookshelf filled with an eclectic mix of books. He pulled out a thick manuscript, bound in plain paper, and placed it on the desk in front of her. It was titled 'Memoirs of a Lost Love.'

"What's this?" she asked, her fingers tracing the letters.

In-Ho sat back down, his gaze never leaving hers. "That, Y/n, is my past. A part of me I've kept hidden from everyone here. It's a...Lessons learned, so to speak."

She opened the manuscript, her eyes scanning the first few lines. It was raw, intimate, a tale of love and loss, told in In-Ho's signature resonant voice. She looked up, her eyes wide. "This is...this is beautiful, In-Ho. You're a writer."

He smiled, a genuine smile that reached his eyes. "I was. I am. History has been my mask, literature my soul."

Y/n felt a profound connection in that moment, their shared love for words binding them together. She leaned over, her lips meeting him in a soft, tender kiss. When they pulled away, their foreheads touched, their breaths mingling.

"I want to know you, Y/n," he whispered. "All of you."

She smiled, her heart pounding. "And I want to know you, In-Ho. The writer, the professor, the man."

Their conversation flowed like a river, their words intertwining, their laughter echoing in the small office. They talked about books, about their dreams, about their fears. They talked about the first time they fell in love, the first time they got hurt. They talked until the sun began to rise, their shadows intertwined on the wall, their bodies barely inches apart.

And then, they didn't talk at all. Their lips found each other again, their hands exploring, their bodies pressing closer. Their clothes fell away, discarded pieces of a puzzle they were fitting together. In-Ho's touch was gentle yet commanding, his fingers tracing the curves of her body like he was memorizing a map. Y/n matched his intensity, her hands exploring the hard lines of his muscles, her lips leaving trails of fire on his skin.

When they finally came together, it was with a shared groan, a testament to their restraint, a celebration of their release. Their bodies moved in sync, their rhythm a dance they'd choreographed without words. They paused, their gazes locking, their breaths hitching in unison. Then, with a silent agreement, they continued, their bodies building towards a crescendo, their hearts pounding a shared melody.

In the aftermath, they lay entwined, their bodies slick with sweat, their hearts still pounding. Y/n rested her head on In-Ho's chest, listening to his heartbeat, feeling it slowly return to its usual rhythm. She felt at peace, content, a feeling she hadn't experienced in a long time.

[corroded-hellfire]

My gorgeous soulmate. The love of my life. I can’t stop thinking about Reader waiting for a ride and accidentally overhearing Eddie talking to the Hellfire guys about some beautiful girl and how he’s afraid to ask her out. Reader assumes it’s someone else and leaves because she’s upset and doesn’t want him to see her. Bonus points for wingman Dusty Bun, but not necessary. Okay love you byeeeeee xoxoxo @munson-blurbs 💚

Hello, my darling dearest. I hope you enjoy this and I love you too! 💕

Words: 1.5k

Band practice ran late, but that didn’t matter one bit. Your older brother was always running behind to pick you up, leaving you the lone person sitting outside the school, waiting. Usually, you had a book with you, but you’d finished your last one and hadn’t gotten a chance to check a new one out of the library today. Honestly, the fierce autumn wind may have prevented you from reading anyway; the pages would be obeying Mother Nature, not you. The wind whistles and whips so viciously that you slide off of the brick wall you’re sitting on top of and seat yourself on the cold sidewalk, pressing as close to the wall as you can to avoid the harsh blowing.

Luckily, the gust eases up and you only end up having four leaves stuck to your clothing. As you’re picking them from your gray sweater, you hear the telltale squeak of the main doors of the school opening. Your brow creases in confusion because you didn’t realize anyone else was here this late. The dark evening has your mind floating back to the dozens of slasher movies you’ve seen that started with this very scenario. Taking care to be as quiet as possible, you tuck your legs up against your body as you hug your backpack to your chest.

“Damn Eddie, I’ve never heard you talk this way before.”

The voice is vaguely familiar. Nancy’s brother maybe? Right! He’s in Hellfire with Eddie Munson, who must be the Eddie he’s speaking to. An involuntary smile curls on your lips at the boy you’re head over heels for being just a few feet away. The closer they get, the easier it is for you to hear the thunk of the metalhead’s boots coming down the sidewalk. 

“Ugh, I know,” Eddie says, a hint of a whine in his happy-go-lucky voice. “But she’s so fuckin’ beautiful.”

The butterflies in your stomach sour, churning at hearing Eddie talk this way about some girl. He’s not doing anything wrong, and logically you know that. He doesn’t owe you anything. But irritation bubbles up in you as a defense from the heartbreak you’re desperately trying to run away from. Your fingers dig into your backpack as you squeeze your eyes closed to prevent the tears from leaking out.

“Ask her out!” That voice was Jeff’s—from your history class.

Eddie scoffs and you can just picture him shaking his head, his frizzy curls swaying back and forth. The thought of Eddie asking a girl out forces the hot tears to leak down your face, despite how tightly you’ve been keeping them closed. 

“Like she would want to go out with me,” he says. 

Now your heart also breaks for Eddie. Who could be so stupid as to not want to go out with him?

“Aww, I think you’re scared,” another voice goads. Probably the curly-haired boy that’s friends with the Wheeler boy. 

“I’m not scared,” Eddie says. “I’m just…afraid.”

“That’s the same thing!” Wheeler says before you hear a thump and the boy mutters an, “Ow!”

“Shut it, Wheeler. I don’t want to hear shit from you or Henderson on girls. Both of your girls live far away. Huh, kind of convenient, isn’t it?” Eddie asks. “They’re probably as real as the damn hair on top of Higgin’s head.”

“Hey!” Wheeler shouts.

“That’s bullshit!” the boy who must be Henderson shouts at the same time.

“You guys are letting him change the subject,” Jeff says. “When are you going to ask her out?”

Instead of giving an answer, you can hear Eddie grumbling under his breath the closer they get to you. It won’t be long now before they’ll walk past the wall and see you sitting on the ground. Waiting for a ride is easy enough to explain, but the tear tracks running down your face are a different matter. 

Before the group of guys can get any closer, you carefully push yourself onto your knees. Balancing yourself against the wall with one hand, you seek out somewhere you can hide. The corner of the wall is pretty far away, you’d never be able to crawl there fast enough. If you stand up though, you could walk that distance. Realizing crouching down so far is going to kill your back, you push up to your feet and keep your torso and head low as you speedwalk to the corner of the wall. 

Luckily, it’s just a grassy lawn on the other side of the wall, so you throw yourself down on it and catch your breath. Unluckily, you hear the piercing whine of your brother’s car pulling up towards Hawkins High. Fuck. Of course he comes now. 

You peek out from your safe space around the wall and see that Eddie and the rest of the Hellfire gang are climbing into Eddie’s van. A rush of breath leaves your lungs and you’re sure your adrenaline is about to come crashing down.

Your brother pulls up to the curb and you push yourself off of the grass and quickly slide into the passenger’s seat. 

“Uh, you okay?” your brother asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Fine,” you huff. “Just go.”

Like the piece of gum you’d stepped in last week, the sharp pains in your heart stay with you much longer than you’d like. The next day, right before last period, you’re at your locker, switching out your books and hoping your eyes don’t look as puffy as they feel.

“Uh, hey.”

The voice makes you jump and drop your biology book. You don’t have to turn around to know who it is; you’d know that voice anywhere. It’s just never been so close to your ear before.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” Eddie says as he bends down to pick up your book. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, it’s okay,” you manage to say as you turn around to face him. “Thank you,” you say as he gives you your science book back. 

Eddie clears his throat and glances over his shoulder before looking back at you—or rather, your shoes. Curious, you follow the line of sight where Eddie had just looked, and you see the curly-haired boy from Hellfire peeking around the corner. Henderson. As soon as he notices you looking, he pops back out of sight. 

“I, uh,” Eddie says as he finds the courage to meet your eye. “Hey.”

“You said that,” you say with a shy smile. “But then I freaked out, so…hi.”

The smile Eddie gives you isn’t his biggest by far, but it still makes your knees go wobbly. 

“You’re in band, right?” Eddie asks, reaching up and scratching the back of his neck. 

“I am.”

“Yeah. So, I was wondering if maybe after the game this Friday you might want to grab a bite to eat? With, um, me?”

The world freezes around you, time completely stopping. Your body is locked in place as you stare at Eddie with wide eyes. He just asked me out, you think. Why would he ask me out? He thinks that other girl is beauti—holy shit. I’m the beautiful girl he was talking about? This defies all that you thought you knew in the world. Is this a parallel universe where guys actually like you back? You realize you’ve just been staring at him since you spoke.

“Yeah. T-That sounds nice,” you say.

“Really?” Eddie’s eyes light up and your heart comes to a halt inside your chest.

“Yes,” you say with a small chuckle.

“Wow. Awesome. Okay, wow.” His disbelief shocks you. How in the hell was he afraid to ask you out? You’re just…you. He gives you a wider grin now before tugging up the sleeve of his leather jacket. “Do you have a pen?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah!” You grab a pen from your locker and write down your number on Eddie’s pale skin, right below a colony of inked bats. 

“Great,” Eddie says as he pulls his sleeve back down. “Um, I’ll wait in the gym after the game?”

“Sure. It’ll only take me a few minutes to change and get everything put away.”

“Awesome,” Eddie says again, and seeing him acting this nervous just tickles you pink. You’re not sure you’ve ever heard him say “awesome” before and now he’s said it twice within the last minute. “I guess I’ll see you in English tomorrow.”

“Sounds good. Oh, Eddie, wait. You’re going to go to the game?” You raise your eyebrows in disbelief. “I thought you hated basketball.”

“Oh. Well, I do,” he says with a chuckle. “Easier to take you out after the game if I’m there, though. And, uh, you know, Sinclair’s been bugging me to come see him play.”

“Right,” you say. 

Eddie’s cheeks turn a light red as he gives you a bashful smile. 

“See you later, beautiful,” he says. He doesn’t give you time to even react to his words before he’s heading down the hall. 

“Holy shit,” you whisper to yourself. “I make Eddie nervous?”

A jovial giggle slips past your lips as you close your locker. You feel like you owe the Hellfire guys a thank you. 

[twisted-dork]

Batfam x Spider-Man Crossover But With a Twist?

OKAY, so I’ve been reading if Peter Parker was in Gotham (most notably the ones where Dick Grayson is his bio dad) and I also went to TikTok to scroll through some of the skits which are mostly him in the Lazarus Pits when it hit me

What if (MCU) May Parker was the one to come out of the Pits and is now protecting her Meta nephew or she was able to survive NWH and goes (tells Strange and Peter off for even thinking she would let Peter do this alone) with Peter to another dimension where Spider-Man doesn’t exist but she inherits Peter Spider DNA from either the transportation of going to a new dimension, Peter donating his blood to save her from dying, or simply because the universe thought that would be fun.

+Image she and Peter got de-aged to 20’s and 5-8 years old so now she is looked as a single mother

(I’m going with the second idea cause I thought of it more later on but anyway’s)

So now she’s got to take care of little Peter while also dealing with the fact that she’s now Spider-(Wo)man (and even though May Parker as Spider-Man is Spider-Ma’am I feel like she would go by Spider-Mayhem solely because Peter came up with because he never really got to choose it and he just came up with it off the top of his head and she was like okay) at least she’s not the one and only Spider-(Wo)man but now she’s got to deal with a kid crawling on walls for fun.

To make it even better can you imagine that before she made herself known as Spider-Mayhem or realizes that she now also has spider abilities Peter gets kidnapped by The Joker (cause of Parker Luck) and Aunt May (now younger but still protective) was not going to let that slide finds out where Joker and Peter are and starts beating the sh*t out of Joker with a baseball bat (that randomly got off the streets and the bat was so far the safest option that led her to question why the street filled with so many weapons?) while all the Joker’s goons do is watch because Aunt May most definitely have the Mom Glare and if the goons know one thing is if a mom cares enough about her kid to go after THE JOKER of all villains and doesn’t seem to care if she’s caught then she’s a woman they are not fighting. So Aunt May beats the Joker up until he’s immobile (paralyzed) Peter is just sitting in the chair tied up sighing as he shakes his head he did try to warn the guy because while Spider-Man doesn’t kill, Aunt May would kill for Peter especially since he’s all she has left (of Ben). When May is done with the Joker she unties her nephew and picks him up to sit on her hip before leaving she kicks Joker where the sun don’t shine and then makes her way off.

The next day she was able to go to work at Gotham’s Library which surprisingly had good pay that she hopes Peter will be able to go to school soon and maybe she might be able to get her soup kitchen running again or at least help some of these people out a bit more. As she’s stacking books back on the shelves (with little Peter holding the next book as he follows her around to help) she notices that a tall man keeps staring at her but whenever she looks back at him he looks back at his book embarrassed. She only chuckles at him before continuing her work but she was able to see the white strands of hair in front and his green eyes.

[starlightslvtt]

summary: Y/N and Lu’s fierce academic rivalry takes a turn when Lu’s harsh words in the tension of the moment leave him filled with regret. His heartfelt apology & attention to Y/N’s passions sparks an unexpected shift from enemies to something more. As tension turns to longing, they realize their competition was only the beginning of their story.

tropes: enemies to lovers, academic rivals, introver(ish) reader x extrovert luigi, mean/bully luigi, fluff, slow burn romance!

୨ৎ authors note:omg this fic is my first ever one so hopefully i wrote it well. I’ve had this scenario running in my mind for so long & now I’ve finally wrote about it! also this song reminds me of lulu soso much?! hopefully you all enjoy reading it. if anyone has any tips on how I can improve my writing please do share! anyways happy reading! ily all sm!!

“Studying again, Y/N?” Lu drawled, his smirk laced with condescension as he plopped down at the desk beside hers in the library. “You do know there’s an entire world outside of textbooks, right?”

Y/N didn’t even glance up from her notes. “And you do know that stuffing your face with food while pretending to be an academic weapon doesn’t actually make you one?”

His jaw tightened, a flash of irritation flickering in his caramel-brown eyes. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you.”

Y/N finally turned, leveling him with a cool stare. “And neither does arrogance, Mangione.”

Lu huffed, crossing his arms. “Call me that one more time, and I swear I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” she challenged, raising an eyebrow. “Beat me in our next exam? Oh wait, you’ve never done that before.”

The tension between them was suffocating, their unspoken rivalry a fire that never seemed to burn out. For years, they had been at each other’s throats—vying for the top spot, trading barbed insults between lectures, and tearing each other apart in debates. It wasn’t personal. Or at least, that’s what Y/N had always told herself.

Until one day, Lu took it too far.

“You know, Y/N,” he said, leaning against the hallway lockers, his voice laced with something crueler than usual, “it’s kind of pathetic how you spend all your time studying. No friends, no social life—what’s the point of being the smartest in the room if there’s no one around to care?”

Y/N froze, her fingers tightening around the books in her arms. The words stung more than they should have. Maybe because there was truth in them.

Lu’s smirk faltered. He hadn’t meant to say it like that, hadn’t meant for the flash of hurt in her eyes. But it was too late.

Later that evening, regret clawed at him as he sat at the dinner table, picking at his food. His mom and sisters exchanged a knowing look.

“What’s wrong?” his sister, Maria, asked, nudging him.

“I… I said something really awful to Y/N today.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know why. We were just—caught up in the competition, I guess.”

His mom frowned. “Apologize properly, like a man. Own up to your mistake, and she will forgive you.”

Lu nodded. “Yeah. I was thinking… she likes homemade cookies.”

“and how do you know that?” Luciana his other sister asked.

“I heard her talking to someone once, on the phone. She was talking about all the things she likes to do but doesn’t have time for any of it.” he mentions.

Which is how he found himself standing outside Y/N’s house the next afternoon, a baby pink container with a ceramic bow on top holding freshly baked cookies in hand, and his mom hovering beside him with a too-pleased expression. His friends—because of course they had to come and witness his misery—stood nearby, grinning.

Y/N opened the door, her eyes narrowing at the sight of him. “Mangione?”

He cleared his throat, shifting on his feet. “Uh. These are for you. I—” He sighed. “I was an ass. I shouldn’t have said that. I know you work hard, and—look, I just, I’m sorry.”

Y/N glanced at the cookies, then at his mom, then back at him. Slowly, she took them. “You made these?”

“With help,” he admitted. “But mostly me.”

His friends erupted into teasing remarks.

“Wow, Mangione’s got a soft side.”

“Just date already.” Tracy his friend yelled out, teasing.

Lu groaned. Y/N rolled her eyes, but a faint pink dusted her cheeks.

And somehow, after that, everything shifted. The insults became playful. The rivalry felt lighter. The long nights of studying became shared instead of solitary. And somewhere between the stolen glances, the laughter, the way their fingers brushed when they reached for the same book.

They stopped being enemies.

And they started being something else entirely.

[whizzing-fizzbee]

XOXO, Anonymous

Sebastian Sallow x F!OC

Rating: Explicit/MDNI (smut, profanity); all characters are 18+ Words: 6,323 Tags: friends to lovers, Valentine's Day, love letters, misunderstandings, mutual pining, angst, fluff, Seb is extra stupid in this one

Summary: Sebastian Sallow has been hopelessly in love with Annalisa Lark since the day they met during fifth year. So when he discovers a love letter to Ominis seemingly sent from her, he begins a downward spiral. Once the truth comes out, he'll realize actions sometimes speak louder than words.

Notes: This one's split into two parts in case you want to skip the smut. Part I is angst and fluff. Part II is smut. All characters are 18-year-old seventh years. MC in this one is a Ravenclaw named Annalisa Lark.

Read on AO3 or both parts below the cut.

Part I

Sebastian Sallow trudged into his dormitory, exhausted after a particularly grueling quidditch practice. The room was empty, presumably because all his roommates were already elbow-deep in their dinners. 

Sebastian would have gone straight to the Great Hall to join them, but he’d been neglecting a Potions essay that was due in the morning. He just needed to grab a book and he’d head to the library for a few hours of writing.

Except Sebastian’s Potions book was nowhere to be found. He cursed under his breath as he realized he’d left it in the locker room. With no desire to make the trek all the way back to the quidditch pitch, Sebastian decided he’d merely borrow Ominis’ book. Surely Ominis had completed the essay ages ago.

The book sat on the desk next to Ominis’ bed, resting on its back atop a neat stack of parchment. Sebastian picked it up and moved to gather some parchment and quills of his own when a folded sheet slipped from the book’s pages. It fluttered to the floor and landed face-up, open, as if its contents were meant to be seen.

Typically, Sebastian wouldn’t dare read his friend’s mail. He would never willingly violate Ominis’ trust, not after it had taken him two years to regain it after the events of fifth year. But a few choice words scrawled on the parchment caught Sebastian’s eye as he bent down to retrieve it. He paused, his hand hovering above the letter until he finally gathered the nerve to pick it up and read it.

His tired pout morphed into a full-fledged frown.

Dearest Ominis,

Your last letter made me smile. You have such a way with words that I always find myself re-reading your letters over and over again. I hope they never stop, even if we can one day be together.

Speaking of, have you given any further thought to discussing our potential relationship with Sebastian? I know you’re worried it could sever your friendship, but please don’t. He cares about both of us far too much, and I truly believe he merely wants to see us happy.

I love you, Ominis. I love you, and I’m tired of pretending I don’t. After everything that happened to me during fifth year, I’ve realized life is far too short to be separated from the ones we love.

Please give what I said some more consideration. See you soon.

XOXO, A.

It took a moment for Sebastian to realize his hands were shaking. His palms were sweating and his stomach churned. He couldn’t even pinpoint which emotion had taken charge of his body – disbelief, surely, but what about the betrayal? And the pain… my god, the pain. It slammed through Sebastian’s chest, knocking the wind from his lungs.

He read it again. Call him a masochist, but he had to be sure he understood correctly. He prayed his eyes had somehow managed to trick him, that it had all been a projection of his own deepest fears, or perhaps some cruel prank Ominis cooked up.

But Ominis wasn’t a prankster. And he would never joke about something as complex as Sebastian’s feelings – not when it came to her. Or so he thought. 

Sebastian had loved Annalisa Lark since the day she absolutely dismantled him during a duel in Defense Against the Dark Arts class. She was stunning to him in every sense of the word, and while their friendship was sometimes turbulent, Sebastian flocked to her like children to candy. He’d never admit to it, though. The only person who seemed to understand was Ominis.

But now, it seemed Ominis understood more than he’d let on. Sebastian stilled himself, the letter still in his hand. Had his best friend really stolen the love of his life? Perhaps that was a bit dramatic. She wasn’t Sebastian’s to steal. He was certain she didn’t even have those kinds of feelings for him. Still, surely Ominis knew about that unspoken gentlemen’s rule about not romancing your best friend’s love interest.

Sebastian’s shock shifted to fury. His conniption swelled as he mulled the situation over. His best friend had swooped in on her. The one and only girl he couldn’t bear to lose. 

He had to toss the letter aside to stop himself from crumpling it into a ball. Knives clouded his vision. He could choke Ominis until the life left his eyes. She said she loved him. She told Ominis the only words that could likely save Sebastian from a tragic demise.

And worst of all, they’d kept their romance a secret from him. They didn’t deem him worthy of sharing their secret. They thought it’d be easier to keep him out of their equation. He wasn’t meant to be a part of their secret society. 

Sebastian sank onto his bed, his gaze wavering in and out of focus. He didn’t know what to do. Should he storm down to the Great Hall and demand answers from them? Should he keep quiet and pretend he didn’t know? Should he make a last-ditch effort love declaration in hopes of stealing Annalisa back to her rightful place?

All of those options made sense in Sebastian’s mind, but Sebastian Sallow rarely made sense when it came to the most important matters of the heart.

Dinner and Potions essays be damned, Sebastian decided to retreat to the Undercroft.

---

“Sebastian! There you are.” 

For the first time in nearly three years, Sebastian was dismayed to find Annalisa in the Undercroft. She was curled up on a sofa she’d conjured during their fifth year, a book open across her lap.

Even from where he stood, Sebastian could see it was a romance novel. She was always reading those, as if she enjoyed the escapism into a world of longing stares and declarations of desire. She didn’t know she was living inside one of those novels; though this one was currently creeping toward an angst-ridden, tragic ending as far as Sebastian was concerned. The trope of his life was morphing from secret pining to the one that got away.

“There you are,” Sebastian replied. It was their routine greeting, a symbol of their bond since they were fifteen. Even in crisis, he wouldn’t stray from it. He needed its familiarity. 

“Where’ve you been?” Annalisa asked curiously as she shifted to one side of the sofa to make room for him.

“Quidditch practice.”

“Did you eat? I didn’t see you at dinner. I have some apples in my bag.”

Sebastian shook his head as he took the other half of the sofa. His posture betrayed him. He typically slouched into his seat, his knees parted while his hands absentmindedly twirled his wand. But tonight, he was rigid, his spine far too stiff and straight to fool her. “I’m not hungry.”

Annalisa frowned, her book now forgotten as she set it aside. “Since when have you ever turned down a meal?” she demanded with narrowed eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Sebastian lied.

Annalisa scowled at him. “Sebastian Edward Sallow, do not play with me.”

Sebastian nearly barked a laugh at the irony of it all. If anything, she was the one playing with him; sneaking around behind his back with his own best friend, penning him passionate love letters while Sebastian had been none the wiser. 

He wanted to be disgusted with her, to lash out and demand answers. He wanted her to know how hurt he was by her decision to omit him from such a significant portion of her life. Even if she didn’t choose him, she could have at least filled him in on her stirring new romance – especially since it involved their mutual best friend.

But Sebastian could never be repulsed by her, even if he felt slighted. She was too much of all the good things Sebastian admired in life – a stunning little spitfire compressed into five feet of fearless conviction. She was compassionate and complex; she didn’t view the world in black and white the way so many others preferred to. She understood the frayed seams between good and evil and light and darkness. 

That realization was the moment Sebastian was certain he loved her. She stood by him after Solomon’s death and offered him unwavering support, because she knew the nuances of right and wrong. She had blood on her hands, too. The difference in their bloodshed was hers was an effort to quell darkness; Sebastian’s bloodshed had embraced it.

Still, Annalisa understood Sebastian at a level that transcended mere friendship, and because of that, Sebastian had grown certain she was his soulmate. But now, he wasn’t sure he knew her at all.

“Sebastian…” Annalisa was still peering at him expectantly. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” he insisted, his tense posture still exposing his discomfort. “I’m just exhausted, is all. 

Annalisa opened her mouth, fully prepared to interrogate him into a confession, but the entrance to the Undercroft clanged open again, revealing Ominis’ arrival. Sebastian stiffened even more.

“Ominis!” Annalisa greeted. “Sebastian here was just about to tell me why he’s so moody.”

“Sebastian, moody? I can’t imagine,” came Ominis’ dry reply.

Sebastian was in no mood for teasing remarks. Not when he was the third wheel to the two people he thought he trusted most. His irritation surged, and before he could suppress it, he was on his feet.

“I’ll just leave you two to it then, yeah?” he snapped. 

“Sebastian, what-” 

Sebastian brushed past a stunned Ominis and sulked from the Undercroft.

---

Sebastian hated Valentine’s Day. What a stupid, sordid excuse of a holiday, he thought. He slouched over his corner of the Slytherin table in the Great Hall as he watched his classmates exchange jovial greetings and giggles over romantic gifts. It was positively nauseating. The arrival of Ominis taking the seat across from him didn’t sweeten the day.

“Brooding in the corner on Valentine’s Day,” Ominis mused. “How very cliche of you.” Sebastian didn’t reply. Ominis sighed and set his stack of books on the table between them. “Going to share with the class what’s had you so bent out of shape?”

Again, no reply. Ominis was no stranger to Sebastian’s tempestuous moods. They always became particularly stormy when Annalisa was inundated with attention from their classmates. Today, she sat at the Ravenclaw table with a short stack of valentines and an assortment of sweets surrounding her. Truthfully, Sebastian could cope with that – he’d witnessed their classmates’ attempts to court Annalisa on countless occasions. He was used to that. He wasn’t used to the nauseating knowledge that his own best friend was the one who had secured her heart, and in secret nonetheless. 

“Alright, mate,” Ominis sighed as he gathered his books again and stood. “But Cupid’s arrow isn’t going to find you while you’re commiserating by your lonesome self in a corner.”

As he retreated toward the doors of the Great Hall, Sebastian considered chucking a potato at his head. But something else stole his attention.

Another letter. Ominis must have left it accidentally in his haste to flee Sebastian’s orbit of agony. Sebastian snatched it off the table immediately, took a quick glance around the Great Hall, and read.

Dearest Ominis,

Happy Valentine’s Day, love! Thank you for the gorgeous flowers. They look positively stunning at my bedside. I look forward to gazing at them as the last thing I’ll see before I fall asleep. You are always the last thing on my mind at night anyway.

I am so looking forward to seeing you tonight. I hope it will be just as special for you as it is for me. See you at 7:00.

XOXO, A.

The edges of the parchment curled inward as Sebastian’s hands shook. They had a secret date planned for the night. They were going to have a romantic night together and neither of them felt any obligation to tell him. Their friendship was no longer a trio. They were a pair, plus one, single fool.

Sebastian crumpled the letter and stashed it in his pocket. He prayed Cupid would choke on a pumpkin pasty.

---

Sebastian’s sour mood didn’t stop there. It devolved by the afternoon, until all who crossed his path were at risk of a terrible lashing. 

Finally, Annalisa found him pouting beneath the Transfiguration Courtyard fountain.

“Sebastian,” she said sternly, her green eyes drilling him with impatience. “What is the matter with you? Ominis says you’re positively insufferable. What has happened?”

Of course Ominis called him that. Ominis was a treasonous, back-stabbing traitor who was too cowardly to even admit he was in love. If Sebastian had Annalisa, he’d tell the whole world, and would burn it down if anyone dared to question him.

“Ominis knows exactly what he’s done,” Sebastian snapped. 

“Clearly not,” Annalisa challenged him. “All we know is something has you upset. Stop isolating yourself and tell us. Tell me, at the very least.”

How rich. She was begging him to tell her, when she hadn’t bothered to tell him about her new little love affair.

“Tell you what,” Sebastian said, rising to his feet as he gazed at her with a pointed stare. “I’ll tell you my secret when you tell me yours.”

Annalisa blinked at him. “Secret? Sebastian, I don’t know what you’re on about.”

Sebastian slipped past her to head inside the castle in search of someplace more secluded. “Then neither do I.”

He wasn’t proud of his prickly behavior. It was reminiscent of his fifth year, when his obsession with curing Anne’s curse pushed him into a manic state, void of any logic. He wasn’t that far gone now, but he certainly was allowing his emotions to control him.

Fine. If Ominis and Annalisa were so into writing silly little love letters, he’d do the same.

Sebastian retreated to his dormitory, where he was relieved to find himself alone. He sat at his desk with two blank sheets of parchment in front of him.

Ominis,

It has come to my attention that you have entered into a romantic partnership with Annalisa. To say that I feel betrayed and slighted is an understatement. I thought you were aware of my feelings regarding our mutual friend and would use better judgment. It’s clear the two of you have chosen each other over me, so consider this my resignation from our friendship.

Sebastian E. Sallow

He snatched the parchment up and crushed it in his hand. This was meant to be a deeply personal declaration of deception and distress, not a polite invitation for afternoon tea.

He tried again.

Ominis– 

I know your secret. Consider this the final fallen pillar of our friendship.

See you in hell, Sebastian

Much better. One down, one to go. But the second one wasn’t as simple. 

Sebastian was certain he could be romantic, right? He’d been on his fair share of dates, had plenty of experience with girls. In truth, he had his pick of most girls at Hogwarts. Sure, he didn’t have the family name and wealth that Ominis had to offer, but he had a bright future as an early acceptance into the Ministry of Magic’s Auror program. He was charming and intelligent, charismatic enough to sway most people he encountered to his side.

Surely he could pen one simple love letter. But for as silver-tongued as he was when it came to getting himself out of trouble or convincing his classmates to help him with various endeavors, Sebastian had no idea how to tell a girl he loved her.

He sat glued to that spot for a good hour until the reject pile of letters not good enough for Annalisa’s eyes had formed a small stack on the desktop. No words could convey what he felt for her. No words were pretty or poignant enough. 

Annalisa,

I know you’re in love with Ominis and I don’t want to stand in the way of the happiness you deserve. But if there’s any chance I could ever compete for your heart, please know that I won’t go down without a fight.

I’ve loved you since that first day in Hecat’s class. I know I haven’t made life easy on you, but loving you’s been the easiest thing I’ve ever done. 

Tell me I have even the slightest shot at being yours and I promise you’ll always have my full effort.

Forever yours, Sebastian

It wasn’t good enough, but it was the best he could manage. He wasn’t meant to craft eloquent prose like Annalisa’s favorite romance novels. Because this was real, not a fictional work intended to entertain the masses, and Sebastian wanted to be sure she knew that. This was his brutal honesty, raw and real.

He sighed as he decided these two letters would have to do. He pocketed Annalisa’s and placed the other on Ominis’ nightstand before slinking off to the kitchens to eat dinner in solitude.

By the time he was finished, his pocket watch indicated it was 6:30. Ominis and Annalisa would be heading off to their date soon, likely at some romantic restaurant where they could cozy up to one another away from prying eyes. Sebastian couldn’t stand to picture it.

He had originally planned to send Annalisa’s letter via owl, but impulse control was never Sebastian’s strength. So in an act of desperation, he trekked up to Ravenclaw Tower and lingered outside the common room.

In a serendipitous act of fate, Samantha Dale was just returning from dinner.

“Samantha,” Sebastian breathed in relief. The Ravenclaw stopped in her tracks and lifted an eyebrow at him.

“Sebastian? What are you doing here? Meeting Annalisa?”

“Oh, er, yes. Except I was hoping to surprise her,” Sebastian said, hoping he was convincing.

“Ooh, are you finally taking her on a date?” Samantha squealed. “It’s about time.”

“Oh. Um, yeah, but it’s a surprise. Can you let me into the common room?��

“Of course, right this way.” Samantha led Sebastian inside and gestured toward the girls’ dormitories. “Pretty sure you’ve been up here before, yes? You remember the way?”

Sebastian nodded and thanked Samantha, who continued into the common room. He strode hastily toward Annalisa’s dorm, praying she’d still be there. He knocked gently and felt his stomach contort at the sound of her voice inviting the visitor inside.

“Sebastian?” Annalisa blinked as he creaked the door open. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

Sebastian was more confused than her. She was wearing pajamas and she sat up in bed, cozied beneath the covers with a book open. She certainly did not appear to be preparing for a romantic date.

“What are you doing here?” Sebastian asked stupidly. Annalisa snorted.

“Sebastian, I live here.”

“But… you have a date.”

“I do? That’s news to me.”

That’s when Sebastian also realized there were no flowers on her nightstand. What was going on? Was this some sort of prank? A bizarre dream – perhaps an astral projection? He felt sick.

“But… but you and Ominis…”

Annalisa tilted her head, perplexed by the entire interaction as her eyes narrowed in concern. “Ominis? What does he have to do with this? Sebastian, what is going on? You’ve been acting so strange lately.”

“I…” Sebastian’s entire frame deflated, his shoulders slumping forward and his knees threatening to buckle. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

Annalisa motioned for him to sit on the side of the bed. She watched him carefully as he did so, his hands resting atop his knees. He looked exhausted. 

“What’s this date you were talking about?” Annalisa asked as she tossed her book aside.

Sebastian sighed. There was no recovering from this. Even if he wanted to get out of this, to sweet talk her with some excuse, he knew he’d only leave with despair in his heart. “I thought you and Ominis had a date,” he said.

Annalisa looked like he’d slapped her. “You’re not serious.”

“I saw the letters. Your letters.”

“What letters?”

“The ones you wrote to Ominis.”

Annalisa felt dizzy, which was alarming because she was certain Sebastian was the one who’d gone loopy. “I didn’t write Ominis any letters,” she said. “Why would I? I see him every day. I don’t need to write him.”

Sebastian’s chest constricted. A flush crept from his neck into his cheeks. His lungs screamed for air. He didn’t understand.

“You’re not dating Ominis?”

“What?!”

Oh no. Had he really gotten it all wrong? How? He’d seen the letters with his own eyes. It all added up in his head. Had he really let himself spiral into an episode of assumptions and self-doubt? 

“Sebastian,” Annalisa continued, her voice a breath of laughter and perplexion. “What the fuck are you on about? Who told you I was dating Ominis?”

“No one told me. I accidentally saw letters written to him – love letters.”

Annalisa was clearly intrigued, another indication that she had nothing to do with said letters. “Love letters? To Ominis? From whom? And what made you think they were from me?”

“I only saw two of them, but they were both signed by the initial A,” Sebastian explained. “And one of them talked about a date tonight.”

“Well, clearly it wasn’t me,” Annalisa laughed. “This book is my hot date for the night.”

“But then, who…” 

Annalisa giggled, her eyes glinting with a facetious, knowing smile. “Sebastian, come on,” she said. “Think.”

“But I don’t-”

“Anne!” Annalisa continued.

“Anne?”

Sebastian froze as all the mental pieces shifted in his brain. Merlin. It made perfect sense – more sense than Ominis and Annalisa.

“You mean Ominis and Anne are in love?”

“Yes, silly,” Annalisa snorted. “Anyone with two eyes can see it.”

“But Ominis has two eyes and can’t s-”

“Sebastian, that’s beside the point.”

“Right, sorry. But… you knew? About them?”

“Not for sure,” Annalisa said. “But it’s always been pretty obvious that those two love each other. They share everything and they really only trust each other… they’d do anything for each other. Of course they’re in love.”

“Oh.”

Annalisa stared at him with exasperated eyes. “You really thought I’d date Ominis?”

“I mean, the two of you adore each other.”

“Yes, because we’re great friends. Surely you know we’d never consider each other romantically.”

“I didn’t think so, but then I saw those letters and… I just thought maybe I’d overlooked something between you two,” Sebastian explained.

“Well, you thought wrong,” Annalisa said. “Obviously I’m not on a hot date with our mutual friend. I didn’t have a date tonight, so I’m enjoying a cozy night in.”

“Oh.”

Annalisa’s brow furrowed as her gaze locked in on the folded parchment in Sebastian’s hand. “What’s that?”

Sebastian swallowed. There was no going back, he reminded himself. But this wasn’t how he wanted to tell her. He wanted to woo her with melodic words and grand gestures symbolic of his feelings. He wanted to make a case for himself she couldn’t refuse.

But if he had to convince her to love him, it wasn’t the right kind of reciprocation anyway. Still, his nerves were getting the best of him. 

“It’s nothing, spare bit of parchment,” he tried to say with a shrug. Annalisa shot him a look. 

“What is it?” she demanded. 

Sebastian frantically scanned his brain for the right words. He only had one shot at this. He had to get it right. 

“It’s a letter.”

“One of Anne’s letters to Ominis?”

“No. A letter from me to you.”

Annalisa tilted her head quizzically. “What do you mean? Why? What does it say?”

Sebastian averted his gaze, his eyes on the parchment in his hands. “Before I hand this to you, before I allow you to read it,” he started. “I want you to know that it was a result of a severe misunderstanding. When I thought you were in love with Ominis… I felt like I was going mental.”

“Is that why you stormed out of the Undercroft and have been sulking so much?”

“Yes.”

“Sebastian, why didn’t you just say something to us?”

“Because I thought you were trying to keep it a secret from me.”

“Why would we do that?”

“To avoid my wrath, apparently. Judging from the letters, it sounds like Anne wants me to know but Ominis is afraid to tell me.”

Annalisa’s lips curved in another knowing smile. “To be fair, I can’t say I blame him,” she said. “This is your sister we’re talking about here.”

“I know, but if there’s anyone I do trust to date my sister, it’s Ominis. He’s the only person I’d trust with her.”

“Well then, it sounds like you both have been making some inaccurate assumptions,” Annalisa mused. 

“I suppose so.” Sebastian raked a hand through his hair. “Look, when I thought you and Ominis were together, I didn’t handle it well, and I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Sebastian,” Annalisa laughed. “I just don’t understand why it had you so upset.”

“Because I don’t handle jealousy well,” Sebastian answered.

“Jealousy? Sebastian, don’t tell me you’re struggling to find a girlfriend. You-”

It was a good thing Sebastian was absolutely smitten with Annalisa, because for as brilliant as she truly was, she could be quite dense when it came to personal matters of the heart. “I thought Ominis had taken the only person I’m interested in,” Sebastian cut in. He maintained his gaze on the parchment, terrified to watch as the understanding settled within Annalisa. 

“Sebastian,” she breathed.

“Here,” Sebastian said as he extended his arm to offer her the letter. “Now you can have this.”

Annalisa reached tentatively for the letter, as if she knew reading it would change everything. Sebastian didn’t look as he listened to her unfold it. The room fell silent as her eyes scanned his penmanship. When he heard her inhale sharply, Sebastian considered flinging himself out the window.

He wasn’t prepared for her reaction. He had long accepted the reality that she could never possibly love him mutually. She might love him as a close friend, but she’d never understand the magnitude of her presence in his life. She was more than his shoulder to lean on and partner in crime; she was the gravity that grounded Sebastian to this world. If he lost her, he’d lose the anchor that kept the sea of dysphoria from sweeping him away again.

Sebastian decided he’d start by apologizing. He’d tell her he never meant to jeopardize their bond. He hadn’t even meant to fall for her. But he wasn’t sorry for loving her. It was the most genuine emotion he had. 

Then he’d assure Annalisa that their friendship didn’t have to change. He was determined to maintain it. He’d fight every one of his emotions tooth and nail for her. She had to understand that he’d never expect anything more from her than the privilege to merely be a part of her life.

“Sebastian,” Annalisa breathed. He finally turned to look at her and was stunned to see tears welling in her eyes. “Sebastian, why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s not really a casual topic for dinner discussion.”

“Sebastian, really.” Annalisa sniffed. “You should have told me.”

“I’m sorry.” Sebastian averted his gaze again, riddled by guilt and fear. He fiddled with a loose thread on the blanket while both seemed to be at a loss for words.

“Sebastian,” Annalisa repeated. She slipped from beneath the covers to sit next to him. Sebastian fought desperately to think about anything other than the way her silk pajamas clung to her body. “Sebastian, look at me.”

He exhaled slowly as he turned to face her, awaiting his fateful sentence. He assumed she’d let him down gently, tell him they were better off as friends. She was far too kind to raise her voice at him, though she was also fiery enough that she might slap him.

Instead, she threw her arms around him. Sebastian’s lungs deflated as he stilled, stunned by her sudden embrace. 

“Sebastian, you fool. You know I love you too,” she mumbled, her words muffled against his neck. It ignited a new heat that coursed through his limbs. He swallowed as her words clashed with the feeling of her soft lips against his skin. It was a staggering juxtaposition of sweet relief and untamed desire.

She loved him? Had he really managed to overlook that major detail in his life? Had there been signs? Sebastian blinked in disbelief. He'd orchestrated his fair share of stupid events, but this one took first place.

Annalisa closed her eyes as she continued to cling to Sebastian. “You really thought I was in love with Ominis?”

“Ominis is brilliant,” Sebastian offered with a shrug. “Girls seem to like that whole polished and proper thing he has going on.”

Annalisa snorted against his neck and Sebastian couldn’t help but smile in spite of his nerves. “Sebastian, when have I ever been the prim and proper type?” she murmured. The more she spoke and the more her lips buzzed vibrations across his skin, the more Sebastian squirmed.

“That’s true,” he answered, forcing his words until they sounded steady. “You do seem to have a proclivity for chaos and dramatics.”

Annalisa drew away just far enough to peer upward at him with a pointed gaze. Her green eyes gleamed with coquetry. “It’s not like I go looking for chaos,” she huffed. “It just seems to find me… sort of way you found me. Sometimes it’s good to attract chaos.”

“Are you calling me chaotic?”

“Are you denying it?”

Sebastian chuckled. “No. Can’t deny that.”

“Sebastian?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you so tense?”

“Because I just confessed to being in love with you and now you’re pressed up against me.”

“Sebastian?”

“Yeah?”

“Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

Oh. Oh.

“I… don’t know.” 

Annalisa offered him a bemused smirk. “Boy, Seb, between that letter and all of this, you sure have a way with words,” she teased. “Lucky for you, you won me over years ago.”

“Years?”

Annalisa rolled her eyes, her impatience evident. “Yes, years,” she said matter-of-factly. “Which is why you should have told me.”

“You could have told me!”

“And ruin the absolute spectacle of you making a fool of yourself because of a couple love letters to Ominis? Never.”

That was enough talking, enough words for one day. Sebastian had spelled it all out, albeit rather awkwardly, but the swell inside his chest made it all worth it. He finally kissed her, which told her more than any stupid letter ever could.

Part II (Smut warning)

“Sebastian,” Annalisa whimpered. “Sebastian, please.”

Her hands were presently tangled in Sebastian’s hair as her legs were tossed over his shoulders. 

Annalisa was quickly learning that Sebastian may not always have a way with words, but he was certainly skilled with his tongue. His letter to her lay on the floor, having fluttered off the bed amid the frenzy of hungry hands and greedy kisses.

“Sebastian, don’t stop,” Annalisa begged as his tongue pressed patterns over her clit. He hummed in response, certain he’d go mad by the way she begged him for more. Her whimpering pleas, the taste of her arousal and the aftermath of their declarations of love had Sebastian teetering on the edge of an insanity that could only be stoked by adoration.

Sebastian’s tongue traced tiny heart shapes across her clit until Annalisa’s thighs tensed and the pitch of her moans spiked. “Oh fuck, Sebastian!” she cried as her nerve endings seared with pleasure. Her back arched off the bed and her fingers tugged at Sebastian’s hair until her orgasm subsided, leaving her chest heaving and her entrance soaked.

Sebastian, still stunned by the day’s revelations, sat back on his heels to admire her. She wasn’t in love with Ominis – his own sister was. But he’d wrap his mind around that part of the story later. The part that mattered now was Annalisa had been his the entire time, and she was eager to prove it to him. After he kissed her for that first time, she had practically climbed into his lap until they were tearing their clothes off.

Once she had caught her breath, Annalisa sat up to pull Sebastian into a long kiss. “Stand up,” she ordered. 

Sebastian blinked. He was enthralled by this bossy new side of her. Of course, one doesn’t save the world from a goblin rebellion by being a timid pushover, but Sebastian hadn’t anticipated this level of dominance from her. It made his cock twitch desperately.

He obliged and scrambled to his feet, holding his breath as he watched Annalisa fall to her knees on the floor in front of him. She took him into her mouth and tightened her lips around his shaft. Sebastian had to lean one hand on the back of her desk chair to support his weight. The suction pulling against his cock was dizzying.

“My god,” he groaned as he gazed downward to watch her work. Her hands snaked their way to the backs of his thighs, fingers pressing into his flesh as she used only her mouth to make him moan. 

Annalisa’s lips released their vice grip to make way for her tongue. She dragged it from the base of Sebastian’s cock upward, over and around the tip, leaving it slick with saliva. Sebastian whimpered at the sight of it. 

“Annalisa, please,” he begged. “Let me have you.”

Annalisa nodded in understanding and rose to her feet to pull Sebastian into a kiss. She nudged him backward to guide him toward the desk chair. 

“Sit,” she commanded. Sebastian obeyed and dropped into a seated position. Annalisa climbed over him, hands clutching his shoulders as she lowered herself. She held her breath, astounded that her quiet Valentine’s Day was ending in such a way. Much better than any of her romance novels.

Sebastian’s fingers dug into her waist as he felt his cock make contact with her entrance. He tensed as she sank slowly, a low whine escaping her throat as she stretched around him. “Sebastian, you’re big,” she whimpered.

“Take it easy,” Sebastian said gently, though every nerve ending in his body was electrified. The scorching heat surrounding his cock was surreal.

Annalisa lifted herself and dipped downward again. The friction made both of their breaths hitch. Sebastian fought to control his body’s response while Annalisa found a steady pace, her cunt gliding over his cock until the room echoed with the sounds of their slick union.

“I love you,” Annalisa whispered, her eyes meeting Sebastian’s as she studied his expression to ensure he was content. 

“I love you too,” Sebastian growled, his hands still pressing into her sides. He marveled at her; the way her full breasts bounced, her cheeks flushed, and her tight walls embraced him. He was desperate to feel her release. He had to know how she’d feel when she collapsed on top of him, her thighs shaking and cunt swollen from the intrusion of his cock.

Annalisa’s eyes fell shut as she worked, her hips rising and grinding as she rested her palms flat against Sebastian’s chest. The chair creaked beneath them. 

“You feel so fucking good,” Sebastian breathed.

She rocked her hips and let out a sharp moan as Sebastian’s cock speared her soft, sensitive spot. “Oh, right there,” she groaned. She repeated the motion, her teeth tugging at her bottom lip as she lost herself in the sensation stimulating her core. “Sebastian, I’m close.”

Poor Sebastian was hanging on for dear life. His mind was presently reviewing spell patterns he’d learned in Charms class to divert his attention. He didn’t find himself in such a drastic dilemma very often, but this was pure desperation.

Annalisa slammed herself hard down onto him, driving the depths of her walls around Sebastian’s cock until she could feel the familiar flutters. She squeezed and rocked until her walls gave way to her climax, throbbing with relief as she wailed and threw her head back. She collapsed her full weight into Sebastian’s lap, allowing the tip of his cock to settle deep inside her until the final twitches of her cunt evoked his orgasm. He swore as he gripped her hips and spilled within her, earning one final moan from her.

The room’s erotic echoes were replaced with their recovering breaths. Annalisa slumped against Sebastian, her body exhausted from bouncing on top of him, and her head hazy.

Sebastian was utterly spent. His forehead rested against Annalisa’s bare shoulder as the weight of the day’s overwhelming epiphanies settled within him.

Things had taken a turn for the better; a monumental shift in events that he never could have predicted. He felt foolish and guilty for his presumptive behavior, but elated that, finally, for once, things had worked in his favor.

Annalisa was watching him with soft eyes. “Alright?” she asked. Sebastian grinned, his hands tracing light lines up and down the small of her back.

“Alright,” he answered. “Just… thinking about how mental this day was.”

“Only because you’re mental,” Annalisa said as she climbed off him and began fetching her pajamas from the floor.

“Sorry,” Sebastian said with a sheepish smile. “I guess I owe you and Ominis an apol-” He froze, his eyes widening until Annalisa drew back in alarm.

“What is it?” she demanded.

“Ominis,” Sebastian said hastily as he scrambled to his feet and began redressing. “I- I wrote him a letter too. I have to go. I have to get rid of it before he sees it.”

“Surely it can’t be that bad.”

Sebastian flashed her an apologetic grin as he buttoned his shirt. “I might have told him we were no longer friends and to go to hell.”

“Sebastian!”

“In my defense, it was all for you, love.”

“It was downright foolish.”

“I know. Apologies, love. I’ll just go fetch and destroy it and then I’ll come right back, yeah?”

Annalisa sighed and crawled back into bed. “Yes, alright. I’ll be here.” 

Sebastian pressed a kiss to her forehead and sprinted back to the Slytherin dungeons.

[thebibliosphere]

From what I've seen, I think the Batkids would like your book.

Hunger Pangs? You flatter me.

But also, yes thank you for this particular strain on self-indulgent brain rot. I am going to be absolutely abnormal about this.

I’d like to imagine Dick picks it up at an airport somewhere on his way back from a trip and becomes hooked on the “clever, pretty, jumps-from balconies-for-the-thrill-of-the-fall vampire and goes, “oh, same.”

The fact that it’s got a rugged, soldiery werewolf with a heart of gold who enforces self-care as a form of kink-play is also doing stuff to his brain. (That’s a thing? He can… he can ask someone for that? Who does he ask for that? It’s been weeks since he slept more than a few hours and ate more than cereal for dinner. Seriously, who does he ask? How much is it? He’s got money. He’ll pay.) The uh, the need for validation and the budding praise kink is also hitting a little too close to home.

As is “all powerful witch with the power to pick you up with her mind and throw you around like a rag doll.” (LiStEN, he spent a large chunk of his formative years surrounded by tight spandex suits, villains with sexy mind control pollen and getting kidnapped and tied up every other week. It’s not his fault he’s Like This.)

He’s not mad about it, though.

*

Babs catches him re-reading it during downtime. She’s not even that interested, more asking what it is to be polite, but the way Dick jumps and turns red, like he didn’t even realize she was in the room is… intriguing.

“I can see why you like it,” she says, several days later, casually drinking her coffee while Dick stares straight ahead, willing the floor to open up and swallow him whole. “Magic, politics. Saving the world from certain doom with the power of knowledge and ecological preservation.” She glances sideways at him. “Vlad’s got some interesting quirks.”

“Shut up.”

“Are we sure you’ve not been compromised?”

“Babs, I mean it.”

“Mean what?” Tim appears in the kitchen as though from nowhere, pouring a red bull into the coffee pot.

No one tries to stop him.

“Dick’s reading a new book,” Babs says, ignoring the murderous look Dick sends her way.

“Oh? What book? Is it any good?”

“Uh, yeah, uh.” Dick rubs at the back of his neck, glaring daggers at Babs as she rolls out of the room, cackling. “It’s uh, romance. Kind of silly actually…”

“Oh?”

Dick nods. “It’s got a vampire and a werewolf. Two guys. And a… well she’s just sort of magic. They break into a library to save the world from ecological disaster. They’re all bi. Together. Or they will be in the next book. This one’s more about the vampire and the werewolf getting together. Um...”

Tim’s gone very still in the way he does when his brain has caught hold of something and he’s absolutely about to let it consume him. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Dick shrugs. “It’s got some kink in it,” he warns, not wanting to expose his younger brother to something he’s not ready for. Which is ludicrous because he’s Robin. And from the way Tim’s not drinking his ‘coffee’ he can tell this is only going to go one way no matter what he says. He brightens, remembering something. “But there’s, like, a non smutty version too? Or a less smutty version, I guess? I don’t know, I haven’t read it yet. I could, we could go to the bookstore, maybe stop at the art store too…”

“I’ll meet you in the car.”

*

“So,” Jason says, and Dick can already tell where this is going by the shit-eating grin on his face. “Vampires, huh? Or is it more the werewolves you’re into?”

“Who told you?” Dick bemoans. “Was it Babs?” He bets it was Babs. Fucking Babs.

“Oh, no one told me anything Boy Wonder. Tim found out the author has a go-fund-me for some medical shit that exceeded his monthly allowance and he’s been harassing Bruce to “fix it” for several days now. He’s down in the cave making a nuisance of himself right now. Apparently he quote “needs more of the bisexual monster books Dick told him about” unquote, and the author can’t do shit if she up and fucking dies because this country’s a fucking for-profit shit hole.”

Dick places his head in his hands. “Oh, God. Is Bruce mad? He’s mad, isn’t he?”

Jason shrugs. “Couldn’t tell you. Last I heard, Tim was playing him the audiobook over the bat computer to make his case.”

Dick let’s his head thump against the table. This is it. This is his villain origin story. He’s going to run away and join the Rogues. Or maybe he’ll go back to the Circus. Either option is better than the idea of having to meet Bruce’s eye later over the dinner table.

“Personally, I thought the plot was a little weak but the characters are compelling,” Jason says, sipping his herbal tea. “I liked the chill necromancer doctor. I feel like he’d be able to fix me.”

[ophelisstuff]

Paige bueckers × reader who loves books.

BOOKWORM | P.B X READER

authors note : i’ve been procrastinating on this big time srry if it’s not the best.

requested by : @paqerings

summery : Paige, someone who isn’t a fan of books finds herself tolerating all because of the person she’s fallen in love with.

word count : 808.

warnings : fluff that’s it

You and Paige had met at Uconn’s library on a rainy day. You being there to check out books for fun and Paige being there to find text books because she had no other choice.

A stack of books in your hand, you walked through the isles of bookshelves — looking for anything else that caught your eye. Unaware that the odd amount of books in your hand had caught Paige’s.

“Are you really going to read all those books?” The blonde questioned, disregarding the fact you were a complete stranger. Focused on finding out why there were so many books in your hand.

“Every last one” You replied, knowing that you wouldn’t be returning to the library until the pile of books in your hand were all completed.

“That’s impossible. no human is reading that many books.” Paige shrugged, finding it unbelievable that a person would optionally spend their time buried in a book.

The blonde just couldn’t understand it. What was it about books that grabbed everyones attention but hers?

Paige hated the idea of reading a book so much, she found herself on the brink of tears when having to study.

Even daring to pay classmates or bribe friends to complete reading assignments because she’d rather be out or playing basketball for fun.

“It’s definitely possible” You muttered, confusion building as you wondered why this familiar blonde was following you around all of a sudden.

It wasn’t like you didn’t know who she was. Everyone on campus knew of Paige Bueckers and admired her athletic talents.

However, you couldn’t get over the way she just talked your ear off and walked alongside you.

Disregarding any thought of you being a stranger and talking as if you two were the closest of friends. “Have you ever read a book?”

You asked, stopping in front of the mystery section — eyes drifting from book spine to book spine for something eye catching.

“No- well yes - duh. Just not a chapter book of any sort. It’s never been my thing so i’ve never tried to”

The blonde admitted, standing beside you — watching as you became fixated on the book titles.

“Well, find the right book and when you do, get back to me” You encouraged, sending the girl a short lived smile.

Picking up a final book as you headed to the front desk in order to check out.

Leaving the blonde with curiosity and confusion as she watched you walk away. Realizing she hadn’t even gotten a chance to introduce herself — let alone ask your name.

However, the blonde decided to take your advice and find a book that suited her — determined to impress you in the future.

present day —

“Can you hurry up! I wanna know what happens to Lucy Gray!”

Paige shouted, growing impatience as she sat on the couch — holding a copy of her The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes in her hands.

Finding herself obsessed with the Hunger Games book series — the blonde had managed to ‘read’ all three books from the series. And having you read the forth to complete it.

In all honesty, Paige still hadn’t read a full book on her own. Often times listening to the audio version of it or having you read a chapter to her daily.

The confusion for your love of books remained the same, however she’d grown to admire how fixated you were on them.

Growing use to how you always carried a book on you, reading whenever you could wherever you could.

Often times venturing to Barnes and Noble’s when you go book shopping. Her interest drifting to the lego sets while you walk the endless shelves of books.

“Give me a second! I’m finding a blanket”

You yelled back, picking up the throw blanket off of your girlfriends bed. Placing your reading glasses on your face as you walked down the hallway and to the living room.

“Finally! took you long enough” She muttered with a smile.

Throwing the blanket on Paige, you smiled laid beside her. The blondes head instantly becoming situated and comfortable on your shoulder.

“Oh whatever, hand me the book”

You joked, taking the story book out of her hand. Unaware of how a complete stranger who hated books turned into your girlfriend who tolerated certain ones.

You found solace in books, and being able to read them to your girlfriend — cuddled up on the couch brought you even more peace.

You nor Paige would trade this experience for anything else in the world. Often times expressing how you were both grateful for that interaction at the school’s library.

“Chapter eleven. Lucy Gray’s words stung but, on reflection, were well deserved.”

You began, Paige becoming silent as she listened to your soothing voice. Eager to hear the story being told.

[inksoakedparchment]

Theodore Nott misunderstood Y/N’s words

pairing: theo x fem!reader (slytherin house)

genre: fluff

tw: my english

word cunt (ik it’s count): 1073

summary: theo found your notebook in the library after the study session and he read through it

a/n: this is my first one shot (and work) in english, so i’m sorry for the bad grammar<3 (maybe it’s gonna be good bc @sunkissedscribbles read it and corrected it)

After the study session with your friend group, - Theo, Mattheo, Enzo and Cassiopeia - you accidentally forget your notebook on the table as you hurriedly leave before the others. After that, Theo notices the little black book and decides to take it.

He quickly goes to his dorm, hops on his bed and starts to read your 'diary'. Because of some of your poems, one-line-long deep thoughts, tears start running down his cheeks. He doesn’t realize how those salty water drops are just coming and coming from his eyes. It only hits him after one falls on one of the pages.

He’s raising his eyebrows after he sees the lots of cat drawings in the notebook, and the short monologues based on how much you like cats and how bad you'd like to have one. Especially black cats. He immediately shuts the book and leaves it on his bed, running out of the castle.

He knows where the stray cats are 'living' so he sits down in the grass, with treats in his hand, waiting for the adorable creations to approach him. He’s drowning in his thoughts while feeding the baby and adult cats when a night-black cat snuggles against his leg. Theo’s eyes lighten up when he notices it and gently picks it up and when the cat looks in his eyes, he gasps. Gorgeous green eyes just like Y/N’s. He checks, and he thinks the cat is a girl. Keeping the cat in his hands, he stands up and walks back into the castle, straight to your dorm.

“Yeah? Come in!” you shout from your bed when you hear the knock on your door, then sit up with a book in your hands.

“Hey, it’s me” Theo smiles at you gently, after he closes the door behind him.

“What’s up, Theo?” you tilt your head with a confused expression, seeing his nervous look.

Theo starts biting his lip, then he takes out the cat under his robe, watching your reaction. Your eyes widen in shock while you jump up from the bed, and approach Theo and that little baby.

“It's a girl,” Theo says softly.

“Wh-What? How? From where?” you start to caress her. She purrs under your touch, wanting to climb over to your hands, and he lets the kittie to you.

“I know a place that’s full of stray cats,” he smiles with an amazed look.

You put - now - your baby on your bed and hug Theo tightly, holding into his robe, because he’s the one who can make you smile anytime, even when you’re at your worst. You start to sob and then burst out in a heavy cry.

“Y/N? Did I do something wrong?” he gently pushes you away and puts one hand on your cheek, wiping away your tears.

“No, of course not. It’s just.. no one did something this big to me, but.. how did you know? It’s my biggest dream,” you mutter the last line.

“I found your notebook and I swear I wanted to give it back, but something made me keep it and read it and-”

“What?!” you cut him off “You read my notebook which is actually my diary?” you step back from him.

“I swear i didn’t wanted to, Y/N, please..” his voice cracks.

“No, Theo! Those are my personal thoughts and feelings, you just read everything! You read me!” you say hysterically.

How could he do this to you? You thought he was your best boy friend, he was always by your side. He got your back when the others couldn’t do it. He saved you from many detentions and...

“Why did you bring her to me?” you ask quietly.

“Because-” the words stuck in Theo’s throat, as he is staring into your soul. His greyish-blue eyes are full of fear and guilt. “Because I love you Y/N” he looks away, fidgeting with his fingers.

“Wha-” you gasp and look at the kittie who’s watching you two maybe with curiosity in her eyes.

“I love you Y/N! I‘ve loved you since fourth year!” he bursts out when you’re still silent.

“Why? Why didn’t you say something?” you shake your head in disbelief.

“Would it have meant anything?” he swallows, looking into your eyes.

“You said you read my notebook, Theo! What the fuck are you thinking about my poems where I wrote about love? Didn’t you notice all of them about you?” your face becomes pale when you realize you have just admitted your feelings for him.

“They looked like they were all about Mattheo” he bites his lip nervously. “He loves to smoke, mostly when I light his cig./Why didn’t he notice that’s the only spark I can give him?” these two lines are burnt into his mind. You’re smiling now. He's noted two lines from your favourite poem. Fun fact; these lines are your favourites too.

“I always light your cig last. Because you always light mine with yours,” you sigh. “And I'm always next to you, Theo because I feel safe when you’re around, and when I’m with you it feels like home,” you step closer to him and take his hand, stroking it with your thumb.

“I never noticed it,” he says quietly, squeezing your hand a little.

“I love you too, Theo. And Apollonia means a lot to me,” you smile and kiss his cheek, right after that he blushes

“I love you, Y/N. I mean it. But who’s Apollonia?” he looks at you with a confused expression.

“The kittie” you roll your eyes with a smile.

Theo takes his chance and slides his hand on your cheek. He leans closer and when he gently presses his lips to yours, you immediately kiss him back. He brushes your lip with his tongue, begging for permission to meet your tongue for a sweet, slow dance, which you quickly give to him. In this kiss, you two are going through every sweet moment, every shared cig, the pain that you caused each other while staying silent about your feelings and the love that you two feel.

He leans his forehead to yours with a sweet smile.

“I’m only yours Cara Mia, and I’ll do everything I can to make you happy” he kisses your forehead.

You smile at him and gently pull him to your bed, where Apollonia is curled up, asleep. You two are just cuddling and talking about the signs that the other didn’t notice.

[alwaysanundertone]

Ah hello~ :3 I heard you were looking for requests and uh I got an idea but its Remus x reader :"3 if that's alright?

So the idea is... Remus has this chocolate thing right? And he knows everyone's favorite chocolates... But no one knows his. Reader (who is a Ravenclaw) observes him and realizes what his favorite flavor is :3. So she first tries it by leaving a stash of it on his book in the library one day to which Remus LOVES. Then... Idk you do the rest 😅 I want them to interact in the end tho 🤧 like he discovers or like she gets caught dunno aha

Pomegranate chocolate | Remus Lupin x reader

LOVED this idea had to start writing as soon as I could, hope you enjoy this’

fluff

You had always had a crush on Remus. While everyone seemed to be lusting over Sirius’s bad boy vibe, or falling for James’s outgoing behaviour, you had always found Remus’s calmness endeavouring and kind of intimidating at the same time.

You never were the one to initiate things, could barely speak to people you didn’t know, but this time, you wished you could. You wished you could just tap Remus’s shoulder and introduce yourself like every other girl in Hogwarts did. You wished you could have his attention, even for just a few seconds, even if it meant being made fun of. But you couldn’t.

So, you kept on watching him like a stalker. You knew that it was creepy, and kind of out of character for you, but having a crush on the same person for three years straight makes you do crazy things. You knew his favourite book because he always seemed to read it in the library, at least once a month. You knew his favourite classes and his least favourite ones by noticing if he was there or if he was skipping them to go smoking in the astronomy tower. You knew his favourite chocolate, of course, and you noticed that it had been a while since he last bought it. Every time he went to Honeydukes, he came back with his friends’ favourite chocolates, never his, and it seemed quite sad.

That explained why you were now standing in front of the cashier, three stashes of pomegranate dark chocolate piled in your hands, sheepishly handing them over, your face the one of a thief who had just been caught.

You didn’t even know what to do with them, you didn’t know Remus, you couldn’t just come up to him with his favourite type of chocolate like a desperate schoolgirl, begging for attention. You just knew you wanted him to be happy, you wanted to see the scars above his lip crinkle, his eyes light up, and that cute little dimple showing, knowing it was you who made him that happy.

You walked back to the library, bag secured, and looked inside from shelving unit. It was then that you spotted Remus leaving, probably going to smoke, as he always did. You looked around: no one was there, it was Saturday night, after all. Slowly, you got up from your hiding spot, positioning the chocolate on his book; you didn’t stop at that, though: you picked up one of his pens and draw a little heart on a piece of paper, positioning it right above the sweet treat.

You weren’t  stupid, you knew he couldn’t know it was you who draw that heart, still you wanted to accompany the gift with some type of card. You decided to go back to your dorm, staying in your hiding spot would have been to risky.

What you didn’t see was Remus reaction to your little surprise. As soon as he saw the little heart, immediately knew it was you, his little obsession. He smiled down at the gift, finally you were showing him some interest. He had been making everything in his power to get you to like him back: looking at you in class just to see your cheeks becoming the sweetest shade of red, spotting you on the bleachers during practice only to use the hem of his jersey to wipe his face, showing his six pack. His heart swelled: he was going to make you his sooner than he expected. A plan slowly started to take form in his head.

After a week, you still had two other boxes to give to Remus. You decided to leave one of them in front of his locker during Quidditch practice, and the other one on his desk right before potions. Every time you gave him the sweet treat, you always draw an heart on the box, just so he knew that it was the same person who decided to gift him his favourite candy.

When he came back from his smoking break, you watched as he looked down at his desk, his face lighting up as he saw the chocolates, making your lips curl into a little grin. What you didn’t expect, though, was for him to be looking around, spotting you. In mere seconds you had become redder than the sweetest cherry, you looked down, praying he didn’t see your reddened cheeks from across the room, sprinting once the bell rang.

You decided to spend your day in your dorm room, too afraid of running into him. Sure, he couldn’t be knowing that you had a massive crush on him, right? You had been so careful, he couldn’t have seen you. You heard a knock on the door, and as you went to open it, right under your eyes were five boxes of white raspberry chocolate, your favourite.

No one had ever gifted you anything before, and no one knew your taste in chocolate, so that left you kind of surprised.

You gasped loudly, and then you saw Remus coming out from a corner, making you nearly faint.

“I know what you did” He was smirking down at you, the height difference making you feel even more powerless. You decided to play it off.

“And what did I do now, Lupin?” He chuckled, one of his hands coming to cup your cheek, making your false bravado fall as fast as it came.

“You gifted me chocolate. Three boxes, to be more specific. Always with those little cute hearts. My favourite type of chocolate, no one knows what my favourite type of chocolate is, but you do. My smart girl” He was staring into your eyes, his hand preventing you from looking away, even if you wanted to. “My question is, why?”

“Could ask you the same question, Lupin. No one knows my favourite type of chocolate, either.” He chuckled.

“I know why I did it. I really like you, Y/N, have been sporting a massive crush on you for a while. Are you insinuating that you feel the same about me?”

Your mouth opened, you widened your eyes. He was kidding you, this must have been a joke. “I- Is this some type of marauder prank? Because I’m not falling for it, Lupin, take your spiked chocolate away from me” 

“You’re so cute when you get mad” He caressed your cheek with his thumb, his face now dangerously close to yours. “I mean what I said, you know that?” He whispered, right above your lips.

“How did you know it was me, though?”

He smiled. “You always draw those little hearts on your books while you read them. Been observing you for a while now, I could swear there isn’t one of your books who has blank margins.”

Your heart swelled. The idea that he had been as obsessed with you as you were with him making you dizzy. You reached up for his collar, pulling him close to you, pecking his lips. He groaned loudly, his hands gripping your hips as he devoured your mouth, while you reciprocated the kiss with as much fervour.

After a while, you took a big breath, pulling away from the kiss. He licked his lips, making you blush once again. “So, Friday night at Hogsmade? How does that sound?”

“Good” You pulled him once again close to you, afraid he would vanish in thin air if you didn’t.

tag list: @sxmnc

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

(Genshin Impact) Navia, Yae, Lisa, Furina, Lumine, Hu Tao, Xinyan, and Shenhe's S/O getting scared by a story

No one requested this, I just wanted to write this scenario after rewatching Marble Hornets and I am TERRIFIED of closing my eyes now. I also feel incredibly old mentioning Marble Hornets. Did you know that web series is almost 15 years old now?

Navia has watched many theatre productions, but nothing regarding horror.

She personally isn't affected and finds them entertaining! (Because she's already dealing with the horrors of her normal life)

Her S/O on the other hand...

(Navia) "Archons, S/O! You're shaking! Was the story that scary?"

(S/O) "N-No I'm not...!"

Navia honestly can't help but laugh, not at S/O's terror, but just how cute they looked!

Plus, it made them sleep even closer to her, so no complaints are gonna be made!

Navia wraps her arms around S/O tightly.

(Navia) "Don't worry, S/O! I'm sure my gun can stop whatever tries to grab you in the night!"

(S/O) "I told you I'm not afraid! P-Plus, I don't think guns can stop a ghost- Wait, why are you making it sound like something will come?!"

(Navia) "I'm just saying for them to hear!"

S/O rolled their eyes as Navia laughed at their reaction.

Navia finds the whole situation makes S/O even more adorable in her eyes.

(Yae) "My goodness, S/O. If you had a tail, it'd be shooting straight up right now."

Yae didn't realize that S/O would be that affected by a simple scary story.

She could hear their heart racing as they tried to battle mentally that there were no such things as ghosts and whatnot.

Yae is half tempted to tell them what's around Inazuma, but figured that S/O doesn't need to die of a heart attack.

Not when she can inflict that herself.

(Yae) "Well if you are so brave, would you like to stay overnight by yourself at the Shrine? I am told you can see many things-"

(S/O) "P-PLEASE DON'T!"

Yae's hand covers her mouth as her eyes close from laughter.

(Yae) "I jest, little one. I am not that cruel."

(S/O) "Ugh, I knew you were just gonna tease me about this..."

(Yae) "Rest assured I will not frighten you anymore than I am right now...More than likely anyway."

Surprisingly, Yae does have them close to her whenever they are in private, holding them and making sure they're comfortable.

It takes every fiber in her being not to startle them and hear S/O yelp.

The things one does for love, but it'd also be really funny.

At that point it's a 50/50 whether Yae would terrorize or comfort S/O.

Horror wasn't a genre Lisa normally reads in the Library, but she does see the appeal of why people liked it.

S/O on the other hand despised the story they read.

Not that it was terribly written. Evidently it was too well written, since S/O was sleeping with candles lit in their bedroom.

(Lisa) "Dear if you're so scared, why did you read it?"

(S/O) "W-Well, I...thought I'd look braver if I finished it."

Lisa giggled and held their hands.

(Lisa) "It certainly is making you cuter.~"

Out of curiousity, she did start reading the book they had picked up whenever they were in bed together.

She could see S/O's eyes widen at the book and trying to refocus their attention away.

Meanwhile, Lisa was analyzing the book and seeing what had gotten them so scared.

(Lisa) "Is it because the story is supernatural, S/O?"

(S/O) "I mean, you can fight monsters! What do you do against a teleporting entity?!"

Lisa chuckled at their panic, and made sure to have one arm holding them.

When they were sleeping, S/O held onto Lisa for dear life.

Something she had no problem with. Maybe she should get them to read scary stories more often.

(Furina) "Aaaaw, are you scared, S/O?"

Furina teased, making S/O pout.

(S/O) "I-It creeped me out a lot, alright?! Just don't rub it in my face."

(Furina) "Come now, S/O! I will not take lightly of your mental affliction from this story! In fact, I will read it tonight and show you that you have nothing to fear!"

ONE SCARY STORY LATER

Furina and S/O sat quietly on the bed, with an aquatic familliar emitting a bright light nd illuminating the room.

Even though it was time for bed.

(Furina) "..."

(S/O) "...It freaked you out too, didn't it?"

(Furina) "D-Do not be absurd! I simply just think that the room was too dark-"

The door suddenly creaked open, which made the two of them immediately hold each other in absolute terror.

(Furina) "H-Hey, S/O! Um...I think tonight is an amazing time to become closer as lovers by never letting go, do you not agree?"

(S/O) "Y-YUP!"

The two of them shivered the corner of their bed, essentially sleeping with one eye open, and a gaggle of hydro familiars guarding the door all night.

They could not sleep properly for nearly a week, but it did bring them closer.

In which that they did not leave each other alone for a single second the moment the lights when off due to being scared out their minds.

(Lumine) "I didn't know you liked scary stories, S/O."

(S/O) "I don't..."

Lumine raised an eyebrow at the book, then put it down on the bedroom drawer.

(Lumine) "So, why did you read it?"

(S/O) "I thought it'd be interesting to talk with you about a story! I know you've always told me about your adventures and...I wanted to tell you a story."

Lumine's heart melted, bringing in S/O for a kiss on the cheek.

(Lumine) "I appreciate it S/O. Anyways, what's it about?"

S/O gained a confidence boost after the kiss and began telling her what the story entailed.

Only to watch their reaction drain as they explained it, recalling the bits of horror and Lumine being able to tell what part exactly terrified them.

(Lumine) "Hah, I think that's enough S/O. Honestly, it's kind of freaking me out too-"

(Paimon) "Yeah, now's not the time for-"

(S/O) "AWUAAAGH!?"

S/O leapt from the side of their bed and into Lumine's arms after Paimon had suddenly appeared.

(Lumine) "WOAH!"

(Paimon) "ACK! S/O, it's just Paimon!"

(S/O) "D-DON'T DO THAT WHEN WE'RE TALKING ABOUT GHOSTS!"

(Lumine) "Huh...I guess Paimon is like one-"

(Paimon) "Paimon is very much alive!"

Lumine lovingly held S/O close to her chest, ensuring that they were safe.

She was the traveler, and she could take on ghosts!

Lumine did have to leave out the fact she actually fought ghosts in Tevyat, however.

Especially Tsurumi Island. Her entire adventure there would probably convince S/O to never leave the teapot ever again and stay glued to Tubby 24/7.

Hu Tao, being the gremlin she is, would love to scare S/O further.

(Hu Tao) "You're afraid of ghosts? I can introduce you to a few and dispel that notion!"

(S/O) "H-HU TAO, I SWEAR TO THE ARCHONS, I WILL-"

(Hu Tao) "Woah, woah, woah! No need to be like that! They just want to socialize!"

She absolutely loves seeing them trembling whenever she mentions the story. It was both cute and extremely amusing.

They tried to hide the fact that they were scared from her, but S/O was a terrible liar.

And Hu Tao wants to kick it into overdrive by cosplaying the monster that scared them.

But she was also sure that would result in her getting dumped, both figuratively and literally into the Harbor by S/O.

Shockingly, Hu Tao does employ self restraint if she recognizes that S/O was getting genuinely distressed by her pranks regarding the story.

Instead, she'll have to sadly deal with the very comfy and tight cuddles S/O gives to feel better.

How tragic.

(Xinyan) "You're scared a by a story, S/O? Sheesh, the heck was in that thing?"

Xinyan is a bit confused on how someone could get that terrified by a book.

But whatever, she can't judge.

Most people were afraid of her simply looking at them.

(Xinyan) "Hey, S/O! C'mere a sec! I got a nice song that'll blast all those scary thoughts away!"

Xinyan distracts S/O by playing her songs and just being in their vicinity more than normal.

Something she could tell they appreciated as they calmed down, especially in the dark.

Her hand grips around their arms strongly, giving them a reminder that she ain't afraid of no ghost!

And especially since it meant extra cuddles, Xinyan was willing to indulge them.

(S/O) "I hope this isn't too ridiculous, Xinyan-"

(XInyan) "Nonsense, S/O! This ain't that big'a deal. Besides I...think it's a bit cute."

(S/O) "What was that last part?"

(Xinyan) "A-Ah, don't worry 'bout it!"

Shenhe didn't like seeing S/O be afraid, regardless of the source.

Her focus becomes razor sharp and thinks S/O is being frightened by an actual ghost.

Upon realizing ghost-murder was not needed, Shenhe instead has S/O with her at all times.

(Shenhe) "If I may ask, why are you so afraid of a fictional story?"

(S/O) "It's...kind of hard to explain. Just the concepts in there terrify me..."

(Shenhe) "I do not fully get it, but I will do my best to make you not scared anymore."

While it is unfortunate S/O feels unease, it does bring her great comfort that S/O finds her mere presence comforting enough to not be afraid.

Maybe it was because she can perform exorcist arts, or because she was their lover.

Regardless of the reason, Shenhe will not falter for a single moment, always on alert for S/O's mood.

She seemed to distract them well, one of her methods proving highly effective, which was hugging them tightly.

That seemed to do the job everytime as she felt them relax into her hold.

Part of her wished it was an actual ghost so she could make them pay for making her S/O feel so scared.

If she could murder a ghost, she would.