#we’re just out here convincing all of the friends to read books

[mercurialskiies]

since finishing vicious a year ago, i have convinced around two-three other people to also pick up the book and read it

spreading the word, as intended

[jungwnies]

F1 GRID | being caught together

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, & charles leclerc (click here for part two) ୨ৎ : synopsis : being caught together after telling everyone you guys weren't even dating...

୨ৎ : genre : comedic romance ୨ৎ : tws : cursing ୨ৎ : word count : 1695

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : part one will always include: verstappen, hamilton, russell, sainz, and leclerc. part two will always include: lando norris, oscar piastri, kimi antonelli, ollie bearman, and yuki tsunoda! <3 (every f1 grid story is released on saturdays @ 8pm and @ 10pm est)

ʚ・max verstappen

for weeks, max had been insistent, borderline aggressive, in denying any and all accusations that he and you were together.

"you guys are basically dating," lando said, arms crossed.

max scoffed. "we are not together."

"really?"

"yes," max snapped. "i do not like them that way!"

silence.

lando’s smirk was immediate. "dude. you’re blushing."

max’s jaw clenched. "no, i��m not."

"yeah, you so are."

"it’s just warm in here."

"we’re outside."

max stormed off, fuming, but later that night, he hesitated before texting you:

max: dinner tomorrow? just us?

you: yeah, of course.

it was fine. totally normal.

until you were at dinner, mid-conversation, and max followed your gaze—straight to lando, charles, and liam, all staring, lando already pulling out his phone.

a notification popped up immediately.

lando norris tagged you in a story.

max groaned before he even opened it.

"‘we’re not dating’ – max verstappen, 24 hours ago."

you bit your lip, trying not to laugh. max shot you a glare.

"this is your fault."

"my fault?"

"you said yes to dinner!"

"you asked me!"

max exhaled sharply, shaking his head. then, after a pause, he stole a fry off your plate like it was second nature.

like he hadn’t just unknowingly confirmed to himself, and everyone else, that yeah, maybe you were dating after all.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

it wasn’t supposed to be this complicated.

a simple group trip, a well-planned itinerary, and a definite understanding that you and lewis were just friends—despite what everyone seemed to think.

but then, as everyone was checking into the hotel, things took an unexpected turn.

"alright," george said, skimming the room assignments. "charles, max and liam, me and kimi…"

he paused, eyes narrowing slightly as he read the last booking.

"and…" he cleared his throat, "lewis and y/n?"

a beat of silence.

then, simultaneously:

"what?" you and lewis both said.

lando’s grin was immediate. "oh, that’s interesting."

max raised an eyebrow. "you guys booked a single room?"

lewis frowned, already pulling out his phone to check the reservation. "i didn’t book it—"

"wait," you interrupted, looking at him. "i thought you booked it?"

lewis looked at you. "i thought you booked it."

you both stared at each other for a second, realization slowly dawning.

"oh my god," liam muttered, "you two are ridiculous."

lando was practically buzzing at this point. "so just to clarify," he said, barely containing his laughter, "you guys accidentally booked one room… together?"

george exhaled dramatically. "this is a logistical nightmare."

kimi, on the other hand, looked entirely amused. "or it’s fate."

you groaned, rubbing your temples. "we’ll just get another room—"

the front desk staff chose that moment to appear. "ah, mr. hamilton, ms. y/n, i assume you’re checking into the honeymoon suite?"

silence.

max choked.

lando wheeled away in laughter.

lewis ran a hand over his face, exhaling sharply. "brilliant."

you wanted to die.

"we are not together," you tried to explain, but no one was listening.

the damage was done.

and the worst part? the hotel was fully booked.

you and lewis exchanged glances, his lips twitching like he was already preparing to tease you about this later.

"guess we’re sharing," he murmured, shaking his head.

you sighed, dragging a hand down your face.

"of course we are."

ʚ・george russell

you and george had worked very hard to convince everyone that you weren’t dating.

the teasing from the grid? unbearable. the constant speculation online? exhausting. the smug looks from lewis every time you were together? infuriating.

so, you both stuck to the same script: we’re just friends. we spend a lot of time together, but we’re just friends.

it had worked.

until his parents completely ruined it.

you were visiting george’s family for a quiet weekend—just a casual trip, nothing suspicious at all. at least, that’s what you thought.

it was all going fine—dinner, stories, light conversation—until his mum suddenly sighed in relief, setting down her wine glass with a content smile.

"oh, finally!"

you blinked. "finally?"

george frowned. "finally what?"

his mum waved a hand between the two of you. "you two finally told everyone! we’ve been waiting for ages!"

silence.

you turned to george. george turned to you.

"told everyone what?" he asked, very, very slowly.

his dad chuckled. "that you’re dating, of course."

george nearly choked on his drink. "we’re not dating!"

his mum gave him a knowing look. "oh, come on, george. you told us months ago!"

your stomach dropped.

george froze. "i—what?"

"you called your father and me and said, and i quote—" she cleared her throat, lowering her voice to mimic his, "'mum, dad, i think i’m in love with y/n, and i don’t know what to do about it.'"

you gasped. george gasped.

his dad nodded. "you definitely said that."

lewis, who had been listening via facetime with his front-row seat to the chaos, wheezed.

"george?" you asked, still processing. "is there something you’d like to share with the class?"

george, fully malfunctioning, pushed his chair back abruptly. "i—uh—excuse me for a moment."

and with that, he got up and walked out of his own house.

you watched him leave, blinking in disbelief.

his mum sighed. "oh dear, i hope we didn’t fluster him too much."

lewis, still on facetime, cackled. "flustered? mate just ran away."

you were still stunned, heart racing.

because as shocking as that revelation was, the part that stuck with you the most was that george never denied it.

ʚ・carlos sainz

the plan had been simple—just a casual dinner with friends, nothing that would feed into the ridiculous rumors that you and carlos were anything more than that.

you had spent months dodging questions, brushing off teasing comments, and maintaining the perfectly crafted narrative: we’re just friends.

and it had been working.

until charles completely ruined it.

you didn’t even notice when he took the picture—probably because you were too busy laughing at something carlos had said, leaning into him like it was second nature, his hand resting lightly on your knee under the table.

it was a good picture. a great picture, actually.

unfortunately, it was also a terrible picture because charles, in his infinite wisdom, posted it with zero context and tagged you both.

and then? the comment section exploded.

f1updates: nah this is so soft??? sainzstan99: tell me why they look more coupley than actual couples 😭 carlosfangirl: so we’re all just accepting that they’ve been dating this whole time, right? charles_leclerc: 😊👍🏼 you saw the post at the exact same time carlos did.

your stomach dropped. "oh. my. god."

carlos ran a hand down his face. "you have got to be kidding me."

you immediately went to untag yourself, only to realize that it was too late—the internet had already run with it, edits were being made, tiktoks were going viral, and worst of all, carlos’s own family members were commenting.

reyes.sainz: 🤔 carlossainz55: …interesting. you turned to carlos in horror. "your dad just commented."

carlos sighed deeply. "of course he did."

you both sat there, staring at the screen, knowing there was zero chance of talking your way out of this one.

then, finally, carlos turned to you, a slow smirk creeping onto his face. "well," he said, amusement lacing his voice, "i guess there are worse people to be fake dating."

you scoffed. "oh, shut up."

carlos chuckled, casually throwing an arm around the back of your chair. "should we at least give them something to talk about?"

and the worst part?

you didn’t exactly hate the idea.

ʚ・charles leclerc

you and charles had perfected the art of denial.

the teasing from friends? ignored. the way charles always sat next to you, no matter how many other seats were available? totally normal. the lingering stares, the soft smiles, the fact that he always found an excuse to touch you? just friendly behavior.

it was fine. everything was under control.

until it wasn’t.

it happened in the ferrari garage, where you were waiting for charles after a media session. he walked in, still slightly damp from the post-session shower, running a towel through his hair before spotting you.

his face lit up instantly. "hey," he greeted, walking over. without hesitation, he reached for your hand—like it was second nature, like it was something he did all the time—and laced his fingers through yours as he leaned against the counter next to you.

and the problem wasn’t that he grabbed your hand.

the problem was that he didn’t let go.

neither did you.

it wasn’t intentional. it wasn’t anything, really. just a comfortable, absentminded habit, his thumb gently brushing against your skin, your fingers loosely intertwined as you talked about his session.

at least, until lewis walked in.

lewis, who stopped dead in his tracks, staring at your joined hands like he had just caught you both committing an actual crime.

you immediately froze. charles did too.

then, realization hit.

lewis tilted his head, looking far too amused. "am i interrupting something?"

you and charles immediately pulled away, but it was too late—the damage was done.

lewis’s smirk was instant. "ohhh, so this is what’s been going on?"

"it was nothing," you tried.

lewis crossed his arms. "that’s funny, because it looked like something."

charles, traitor, just ran a hand through his hair, biting back a smile.

lewis chuckled, shaking his head. "mate, i knew ferrari was full of surprises, but i didn’t think this was one of them."

you groaned, covering your face. "lewis."

he held up his hands, stepping back. "don’t worry, i won’t say anything."

you peeked through your fingers. "really?"

lewis grinned. "no. of course not. i’m telling everyone."

and with that, he disappeared.

you sighed, turning to charles, who looked way too entertained. "this is your fault."

he raised an eyebrow. "my fault?"

"you were the one holding my hand!"

charles smirked. "and you didn’t let go."

you opened your mouth to argue, then closed it.

charles leaned in slightly, green eyes flickering down to your lips for just a second before murmuring, "maybe we should give them something real to talk about."

and that was when you realized, maybe getting caught wasn’t so bad after all.

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[wildwestdean]

transposition

summary: a spell goes wrong and ends up with you and sam switching bodies. neither of you tell dean, which ends up being the greatest decision you ever made

pairing: dean winchester x witch!reader; best friend!sam winchester x witch!reader (platonic, obvs)

word count: 6.3k+

warnings: swearing, mentions of magic use, misunderstandings, miscommunication, angst, secrets, accidental love confessions, awkward idiots, mutual pining, friends to lovers, fluff, cliches, minor use of [y/n], (female pronouns/descriptors used)

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Sam grunted under his breath, continuing to powder the contents of your mortar with more force than necessary. “If Dean finds out about this-”

“Dean asked me to do this,” you defended, eyes skimming over the page in front of you before looking up at him. “Okay, maybe not verbatim, but he asked!” you added upon seeing the look on Sam’s face. 

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m sure he did,” he replied sarcastically, slamming the pestle down with enough force to make you flinch. 

“Would you be fucking careful!” you hissed, glaring at him. “That thing isn’t indestructible and it’s important to me, it was a gift-” 

“From Dean,” he finished for you. “I know. Sorry,” he added, and even though his tone was sincere, you just knew he rolled his eyes anyway; and you chucked the closest thing you could grab at his back in retaliation. 

“Dick,” you muttered, going back to reading the passage before you. 

It wasn’t often that you used your powers - more so when it came down to a last resort option - and when Dean first discovered that you had magic, it wasn’t intentional. The two of you were on a hunt together, and it was - of course - not going to plan. You were on the brink of consciousness, having no choice but to watch defenselessly as Dean became outnumbered by Vamps. The spell came out of nowhere, nothing more than a primal instinct to protect him, and before anyone knew what was happening, the two of you were left alone with nothing but piles of ash where the monsters once stood. Dean first thought that Rowena had somehow stumbled upon them to save the day once more, though once he realized the spell came from you, he damn near lost his mind. You would have rather he yelled at you, smashed things around, anything compared to what he did. Once he made sure you were okay and had you checked out, he simply acted as if you didn’t exist; you were completely frozen out of his life. He never needed to say anything, you could see it in his eyes every time he glanced at you: How could you be a witch? He hated witches, and you knew that- it’s half the reason you never told him in the first place. He only started coming around with Sam’s convincing- and even then, it took an incredibly long time for him to trust you again. Then, one day, he came to realize that no matter what happened, he could never hate you. So, he came to you with an open mind and a peace offering- the exact mortar and pestle you had once told Sam that you wanted, because it reminded you of your mother’s- and the two of you worked on putting the pieces of your friendship back together. 

“Ass,” Sam retorted, turning and walking over to you with the freshly crushed ingredients. 

“You know,” you started, taking it from his hands. “You can’t really be against this all that much, otherwise you wouldn’t be here helping.”

“I’m only here so you don’t get yourself killed.”

“Oh, come on,” you urged with a chuckle. “You love doing this, and you know it.”

He gave you a sarcastic smile before taking the book from you. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Fine,” you huffed, snatching the book right back. 

With one final glare at each other, you started the spell. Everything was going well… until it wasn’t. 

You aren’t exactly sure where it went wrong. You don’t know if it was the ingredients, the way you said the spell, or just a mixture of everything, but before you even knew what was happening the bowl before you exploded in a cloud of yellow and sent both you and Sam flying. 

“Oh, god,” you groaned, holding a hand to your head as your ears rang. “What the fuck?” you wondered aloud, feeling strange beyond comprehension. 

“What the hell happened?” Sam croaked out.

“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said through a fit of coughs. “You?”

“I don’t know. Something feels wrong,” you declared, sitting up. It was at that exact moment you realized why you felt so different. “Sam?” you asked meekly.

“Yeah?” he questioned, sitting up. “Wait-” 

“I’m-” you began, unable to finish as you stared at your hands; were they even your hands? 

“You’re….” Sam tried, staring at you then down at his body; your body? 

“You’re me!” you exclaimed, gesturing between the two of you. 

“You’re me!” he echoed, scrambling to stand.

You followed suit, using the wall behind you to help you stand. “God, how do you live like this?”

“Me? What about you? I won’t even be able to reach the upper cabinets in the kitchen!” he countered, flailing his arms around. 

“At least you’ll be able to fit on your bed! My feet are gonna dangle!” you huffed, folding your arms over yourself. 

“You need to fix this,” Sam declared, stepping towards you. You couldn’t help but take a few steps away- this was way too weird. You’ve seen shifters take your image before, but this was actually you. Only it wasn’t you. You felt like your head was about to explode. 

“Gee, you think, Sam?” you snapped, narrowing your eyes at him. “I thought we’d just stay like this forever!” 

He opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the door swinging open. You both flinched, turning to see Dean peering into the room. 

“What the fuck’s with all the yelling?” he asked, glancing around. “The hell is going on?” 

“I- uh-” you tried to answer, but nothing came to mind. 

“Just, uh…. experimenting,” Sam supplied, and you sent him a glare. 

“Experimenting?” Dean repeated, raising his eyebrows at you- or rather, at whom he thought was you. 

“Yeah,” Sam said with a shrug, not sure what else to say. The two of you shared a look, silently agreeing not to breathe a word of what was really going on. 

Dean’s face softened, and he sighed. “Don’t tell me you’re actually doing that spell. Sweetheart, we can get by without it.” 

“We don’t-” you started to argue, before Sam interrupted you with a clearing of his throat. 

Right. Dean wasn’t exactly talking to you right now. 

“Thought it was a good opportunity to practice,” Sam replied, sounding more like he was asking than telling. 

“Right,” Dean said, eyeing your body wearily. 

Oh, god. He was gonna pick up on something being wrong, it was only a matter of time. 

“You can leave any time now,” you spoke up, more irritated than you meant to sound, but you were severely on edge.

Dean turned to you with a look of surprise. “‘Scuse me?”

“I just- you know, we’re in the middle of something,” you continued, doing your best to stand your ground. 

“Yeah, I can see that,” he quipped, taking a step towards you. “What the hell were you thinking? Why are you letting her mess around with this stuff? Better yet, why are you helping her mess around with this stuff?” 

“It’s just a simple spell,” you argued, your head swirling with the fact that you were looking down on him, instead of being dwarfed by his frame like you normally would be. 

“A simple spell?” he repeated, fury and irritation dancing in his eyes. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”  

“Last I checked we could make our own decisions, Dean!” you exclaimed, glaring at him. 

“Sure,” he placated with a nod. “So long as they’re not stupid ass decisions!” 

“Can we go ten minutes in this place without a fight happening?” Sam pitched in, already exasperated with the situation. 

“Yeah, sure,” Dean grumbled, glaring at you. “Food’s ready.”

“We’ll be there in a few minutes,” Sam announced, earning a glare from you in return. 

“Don’t you think we should finish-” you tried to ask, but were quickly cut off by Dean. 

“No, you guys are done in here,” he declared, shaking his head. “Let’s go.”

“Dean-” you tried once more, only to be cut off again. 

“Sam,” Dean warned. “I’m not kidding. Whatever you two were doing, it’s done.”

“Fine. We’ll be out in a few minutes,” you relented, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “We need to clean up!” you added upon seeing the look on Dean’s face. 

“Five minutes,” Dean agreed pointedly. “Or I swear, I’ll drag both your asses out of this room.” 

“Yeah, five minutes, got it,” you huffed, watching him as he hesitantly left the room. 

You waited a few moments before hastily making your way over and all but slamming the door, turning to look at Sam with wide eyes. 

“We are so screwed,” he declared, matching your expression. 

“What are we supposed to do? He’s gonna figure out something’s wrong!” you exclaimed, slumping against the door behind you. 

“We just…. I don’t know, pretend?” Sam suggested with a shrug. 

“Pretend?” you repeated incredulously. “Sam, this is insane! We can’t just pretend to be each other!” 

“It’s not like I meant permanently!” he defended, holding out his hands in surrender. “But until we can find a way to fix this, we have to at least play the part in front of Dean.” 

“Fine,” you agreed with a huff. “But I am not going on your crack of dawn jogs.” 

“Oh, come on-” he started to argue, though quickly stopped when met with your glare. “Yeah, okay, that- that’s fine.” 

“Great. Now let’s go before Dean gets even more pissy,” you declared, opening the door with a flourish. 

With a quick nod, he followed you down the hall, the two of you lowly bickering about the situation all the way to the kitchen. 

“I feel like a baby giraffe with this fucking body.”

“You look like a baby giraffe, do you not know how to walk?” 

“Yeah, I know how to walk! I know how to walk with normal legs!”

“Normal? You’re short enough to get in anywhere with a child’s pass!” 

“Keep up with the attitude, Sam. Maybe I’ll go have a really nice salon visit and cut all this hair!” 

“Fine, then maybe I’ll call up that guy from your ‘worst date ever’ and ask to catch up!”

“Fine by me. You’ll be the one he’ll be groping and hitting on the whole time.” 

“Yeah- well-... look, just don’t cut my hair!” 

“What are you two all hush hush about?” Dean asked curiously, eyeing you both as you entered the kitchen. 

“Nothing,” you both quickly replied, taking a seat at the table. 

Dean stared at you both for a moment before nodding curtly. “If you say so.” 

Choosing not to reply, you both quietly watched as he joined the table, taking his regular seat next to you. Which, of course, meant he was currently next to Sam, and you watched in amusement as he shifted nervously while Dean got too close for his comfort. 

Attempting to stifle a laugh, you took a bite of the burger that was placed in front of you, only to grimace in response. “What is this?” you asked through a mouthful, meeting Dean’s confused gaze. 

“It’s… the same veggie burger you force me to make you every time I make burgers?” he replied, looking at you as though you lost your head. 

Fucking Sam, you thought bitterly. “Oh, right. Right, it just- it tastes different, I don’t know,” you stammered, sparing a quick glance across at Sam as you hurriedly took another bite. 

“You two are weirder than usual tonight,” Dean muttered to himself before eating his own food. 

The three of you ate in stifling silence, you and Sam both internally trying to find a way out of this mess, before Dean spoke up again and pulled you from your revere. 

“[Y/N], do you want just the usual from the store? I was gonna make a run before our movie night,” he said, turning to look beside him with a soft grin. 

You felt your stomach drop as Sam cleared his throat, looking between you and Dean for a moment. “Movie night?” 

“Yeah,” Dean said, his eyebrows furrowing in even more confusion. “Like we have every Friday?” 

“Oh, right!” Sam exclaimed, chuckling nervously. “I didn’t realize what day it is, I, uh- I’m actually not… feeling too hot, do you mind if we skip it tonight?” 

“You wanna skip it?” Dean asked quietly, making your heart shatter as you watched the hurt and disappointment flash across his face.

After the two of you made up from your falling out, you started a tradition of spending extra quality time together at least once a week. This resulted in having a movie night every Friday, no matter what. Whether that meant catching a random movie on a motel tv or settling into the Dean Cave, you both always found a way to make it. Knowing you had no choice but to skip out this time almost made you want to tell him what happened right then and there; but you didn’t. 

“Yeah, I just… I think it’s best if I just head to bed, you know? I’d hate for it to get worse,” Sam said sheepishly, playing with the glass in front of him as he met Dean’s gaze halfheartedly. 

You were glad that if you had to mistakenly swap bodies with someone, it was Sam. Given that he became your best friend from just about the moment you met, he had your behaviour down pat; you just hoped you could do the same and make this all a little easier. 

“Well what do you mean, what’s wrong?” Dean asked worriedly.

“I’m just feeling run down is all,” Sam said, shrugging lightly as he stood up, taking his dishes to the sink. “Maybe we can watch something tomorrow,” he added, turning back to Dean with a shy smile. 

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” Dean agreed softly, averting his gaze to the beer in his hands. “Don’t worry about it, just get some rest.” 

“Sure. Uh, goodnight, guys,” Sam replied awkwardly, shooting you a pointed look before leaving. 

You stayed in uncomfortable silence for a moment, studying Dean as he pouted at his bottle. 

“You alright?” you asked tentatively. 

“Yeah, just… first time she’s bailed on me,” he replied indifferently, downing the rest of his beer before heading to get another one. 

“She didn’t bail on you,” you argued firmly. “It’s not like she chose to go bar hopping or something, she’s sick.” 

“Didn’t seem so sick when she was huddled up with you,” Dean said curtly, leaning against the counter as he sent you a cold stare. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked confusedly, shifting in your seat to look at him better. 

He remained silent, lips pursed as he studied you for what felt like hours, before he finally shrugged. “Doesn’t mean anything.” 

“Then why say it?” you asked in irritation. 

He remained silent once more, simply raising the beer bottle to his lips and taking a long sip before standing upright. “Night, Sammy.” 

“Dean-” you tried to press, but he only ignored you as he continued across the floor, leaving the kitchen without saying another word. 

You sighed in exasperation, quickly cleaning everything up before heading to your room, catching almost no sleep as you dove deep into researching for a reversal to your mistake.

“You need to shave,” Sam said, staring at you from across the table. 

“What?” you asked, caught off guard by the declaration. 

“Your beard - my beard. You need to shave it,” he clarified. “It’s been over a week.”

“And?” you asked, arching an eyebrow at him. “I doubt you’re taking care of all my housekeeping.” 

“That’s because I’m doing everything possible to not look at you! Like you asked!” he hissed in return. 

You rolled your eyes in response, returning your attention to the book in front of you. “I have more important things on my mind than shaving your stupid facial hair - which looks fine, by the way.” 

Sam huffed, shifting in his seat. “Yeah, well you can at least take five minutes for me!”

“I don’t even know how to shave a beard, Sam!” you argued, closing the book in exasperation. 

“Then just let me shave it for you!” he begged, leaning over the table. “I’m serious, [Y/N], you can’t just leave me all unkempt.” 

You met his gaze and sighed softly. “Damn, you can even pull off the puppy dog eyes with my face. That’s a talent, Sammy.” 

He couldn’t help but laugh, for what felt like the first time since this whole thing happened. “You can do it better than I can,” he chuckled. “At least when it comes to Dean,” he added with a smirk. 

“What does that mean?” you asked curiously. 

“Nothing,” he said, shrugging dismissively. “C’mon, let’s get you- me- whatever, all taken care of before Dean gets back with dinner.” 

“Fine,” you begrudgingly agreed, getting up to follow him.

Before you knew it, you were standing in front of him as he sat on the bathroom counter, because: “How else are we supposed to do this? These arms aren’t gonna reach that face comfortably without some help.”

You fell into a comfortable silence as he did what he needed to do, the only words spoken being his occasional nagging for you to quit moving, as you were both lost in your own thoughts about the last few days.

“I’m really sorry, Sammy,” you said suddenly. You weren’t sure whether your voice was so quiet due to the shame you felt, or for the fear of breaking the silence that surrounded you. 

“It’s not your fault,” he said simply, reflexively. 

You sighed, gently shaking your head; which earned another scolding glare from him as he steadied you. “It’s entirely my fault. I fucked up big time, and we both know it.” 

“Look, it was an accident,” he urged, wiping away the remnants of the shave one last time. “Assigning blame isn’t going to change anything.” 

“Why aren’t you mad at me? You should be furious! I practically ruined your life,” you pressed on frantically. 

“Okay, that’s being dramatic,” he chided. “Yeah, this isn't an ideal situation. Though weirdly, it’s also not the weirdest situation I’ve been in. And you know what? It’s not even the first time I’ve been in this situation! Remember when that kid switched bodies with me? Trust me, you’re a much better person to be switched with.” 

“Yeah, I remember,” you said, chuckling softly. “Still, I’m really sorry.” 

“I know you are,” he said softly. “I also know you’ll find a way to fix this.” 

“You really believe that?” you asked hesitantly. 

“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “‘Cause it’s you, and I’ll always have faith in you. You didn’t mean for this to happen, [Y/N]. It’s okay.” 

“No, it-” you started to argue, but he cut you off. 

“Stop,” he urged softly. “I’m not mad at you, okay? Maybe I was at first, but I’m not anymore.” 

“Promise?” you asked meekly. 

“I promise,” he said firmly.

“Okay,” you relented, not fully believing him but not wanting to push the topic any further. 

“Okay,” he repeated, gently wiping away one of your stray tears. 

“Maybe we should just tell Dean,” you suggested hesitantly. 

“Tell me what?” Dean’s voice suddenly cut through the room.

The two of you jumped, and you moved away from the counter as calmly as you could, knowing how the predicament you were in must look to him.

You turned to the doorway and came face to face with Dean staring intently at the two of you, his mind working into an overdrive as he tried to make sense of the scene he just walked in on. 

“Dean, I- when did you get back?” you asked nervously. 

“Tell me what?” he asked again, ignoring your question. 

You and Sam were both at a loss. You spent so much time trying to figure this whole thing out, yet neither of you thought to come up with some kind of story should you be cornered like this. 

“[Y/N]?” Dean asked softly, looking over to where he thought you sat on the counter. 

The look of hurt and confusion that flashed over his face and the waver in his voice all but sent a fresh wave of tears washing over you. 

Dean waited impatiently a few moments before shaking his head with a scoff. “Whatever, food’s in the kitchen.”

Before anyone could say anything else, he turned on his heel and left, leaving you and Sam stunned in his wake. 

The dynamic between the three of you began shifting even more ever since that night, and you could feel Dean slipping further and further away from you with each passing day. 

You noticed it every time Dean would catch you and Sam huddled up and whispering low; when he would stand and stare before leaving with a quiet grumble of forgetting why he was there. 

You noticed it when he started spending more time in his room or tinkering with Baby in the garage; finding any and every excuse possible to spend time outside of the bunker and away from you and Sam. 

You and Sam tried to ignore it, promised yourselves that you’d explain everything once you managed to set things right - or, if you discovered you were over your heads and couldn’t fix everything. 

The thing you hated most about this whole thing was that it was becoming easier and easier to lie to Dean; and the worst part about that was not knowing whether you and Sam really became more convincing, or if Dean just didn’t care enough to question you anymore. 

Which is exactly why you found yourself sitting in the war room, waiting for Dean to make his way through to the kitchen, in order to try and talk things out. 

You weren’t expecting him to appear with one duffle bag over his shoulder and another by his side - and he wasn’t expecting to see you, either. 

“Didn’t think you’d be up,” he declared after a moment of hesitation, continuing on his path to the stairs. 

“Where the hell are you going?” you asked hotly, standing from your seat. 

Dean sighed, throwing his head back in frustration as he considered his response. “Donna’s cabin.” 

“What? Why?” you asked, eyebrows drawing together with confusion. 

“I can’t do it anymore,” he said tiredly. “I just can’t, okay?” 

“Do what?” you asked wearily, taking a tentative step towards him. “What are you talking about, Dean?” you pressed, feeling your chest tighten with the rising nerves and fear.

“Don’t do that,” he demanded, shaking his head. “Don’t play coy. You think I don’t know what’s been going on around here?” 

“What-... what’s been going on?” you asked curiously. “The hell are you talking about?”

You weren’t sure if or when he figured out what happened, and you also weren’t sure why it would make him feel the need to leave. 

“I’m talking about you and [Y/N]!” he shouted, throwing his bags down and stepping towards you. 

“Me and [Y/N]?” you wondered, taking a nervous step backwards. 

“I’m not an idiot, okay?” he spat, his jaw ticking. “You think I haven’t noticed? Think I couldn’t figure it out?” 

“Okay, look,” you began, holding out your hands defensively. “I can explain.” 

Dean let out a humourless laugh, running a hand over his mouth before glaring at you once more. “Explain,” he echoed with a chuckle of disbelief. “Don’t waste your breath.”

“Why are you so pissed off about this?” you asked in bewilderment. “I mean, I know we kept it from you, but we figure it’d be easier for you.” 

“Easier for me?” he repeated, voice raising. “What about this entire situation makes you think it’d be easy for me?”

“Well because it-... I mean it doesn’t really affect you, Dean,” you replied, unsure of your own words. 

“It doesn’t affect me?” he repeated with perplexion. “Of course it affects me! You know how I feel about her!” he exclaimed, taking yet another step forward. 

“What?” you questioned, thrown off by his response. 

“Don’t “what” me,” he snapped. “I want to be happy for you, Sammy. I really do, but I just-... I don’t think I ever can be.” 

“Okay, I-... I am so lost,” you admitted.

“You stole my girl, Sam!” Dean all but screamed. “You know that I love her. You know I was gonna tell her, and you know how much I want to spend whatever’s left of my god forsaken life with her! You swore you didn’t feel that way about her. You- I mean how to hell could you do this to me, Sammy? I can’t even stand to look at you anymore.” 

You remained silent, staring at him in shock and confusion for what felt like hours. Your mouth opened and closed a few times as you tried to formulate a response, but all that came out was a broken whisper of his name. 

“Don’t sweat it, Sammy. Not like I can blame you for falling for her, right? I mean hey, I sure did,” he sassed, smiling sarcastically. “Not surprised she chose you, either. She deserves someone better than me. But I’m not sticking around anymore to see it first hand.” 

You watched in stunned silence as he turned to gather his bags, trying and failing to think of anything to say. What the hell were you supposed to do? The man of your dreams just admitted he felt the exact same way, and you were trapped in his brother's body. Even if you told him the truth right now, would he even believe you? 

“Do me one favour, though,” Dean said from the foot of the stairs, effectively pulling you from your thoughts. “Don’t tell [Y/N]. Don’t tell her anything. I’ll think of something to tell her during the drive and call her tomorrow.” 

“Dean-” you finally began to protest, only to go unheard by him as he started up the steps. 

“Later, Sammy,” he announced with finality, disappearing out of the bunker. 

“You have got to be kidding me. I mean honestly woman, how stupid can you be?” Rowena’s voice rang through the war room as she made her arrival known to you and Sam.

“Did you not get in enough insults over the phone?” you asked in exasperation, not bothering to move from your spot in the library as you watched her approach.  

“I don’t think there are enough insults for this situation, dear,” she said sweetly, smiling innocently. 

“Either be helpful or leave, Rowena,” you replied solemnly. 

It had been three days since Dean left, and over two weeks since the whole debacle happened. You had never been more determined to find a solution, nor had you ever felt more defeated. 

“Alright, fine. No need to be cranky,” Rowena tsked, taking a seat across from you. “Go on, then. Walk me through everything.” 

“Fine,” you sighed, steadying yourself before recounting the situation. 

“Let me get this straight,” Rowena declared, holding a hand up. “You actually let him leave? After what he said?” 

“Is that seriously your only take away from this?” you asked angrily, glaring at her. 

“It’s not my only take away, but it’s certainly a big one,” she said calmly, accompanied by a half shrug. “This is the spell you used?” she asked, looking over the book you gave her during your explanation. 

“Yeah, that’s the one,” you confirmed sheepishly. 

“Well, don’t you worry. We’ll have you and Samuel right as rain in no time, dear,” she comforted, eyes never leaving the pages in front of her.

It took another four days, but ‘No time’ finally came. You were practically itching to get this all over and done with as the three of you finished setting everything up. You didn’t even care about being in your own skin again, all you cared about at this point was getting Dean back in your life. He did everything possible to avoid talking to you or Sam each time either of you tried contacting him, and you were missing him more and more with each passing hour.

“That should do it,” Rowena declared, snapping you back to attention. “You know what you need to do?” 

“Yes,” you said quickly, urging her out of the room; the last thing you needed was for her to be around and have the spell go wrong again, resulting in all three of you being scrambled around. 

“Don’t rush it!” she cautioned. “I know you want him back, but you need to take this slowly. You can’t afford another screw up!” 

Her statement made you pause, and you knew she was right. “Go slow, I got it,” you confirmed, shutting her out of the room. 

“Ready?” Sam asked, looking at you eagerly; albeit nervous beyond belief. 

“More than ever,” you declared, taking your place at the altar. 

You began the spell, doing everything slowly and precisely so there was no room for error. Once you had finished, however, nothing had happened. You were just about ready to scream with all the emotions boiling inside of you when suddenly the bowl before you exploded in a cloud of yellow, sending both you and Sam flying. 

“Oh, god,” you groaned, holding a hand to your head as your ears rang. “This again?” you wondered aloud.

“Did it even work?” Sam croaked out.

“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said through a fit of coughs. “You?”

“I think so,” you declared, sitting up. It was at that exact moment you realized what happened. “Sam?” you asked breathlessly. 

“Yeah?” he questioned, sitting up himself. “Wait-” 

“I’m-” you began, unable to finish as you stared at your hands; your own hands.

“You’re….” Sam tried, staring at you then down at his body; his very own body.

“You’re you!” you exclaimed in glee, pointing at him.

“You’re you!” he echoed, scrambling to stand.

You followed suit, taking a moment to steady yourself on your own feet. “I need to go,” you announced, not giving him time to reply before you ran out of the room. 

“You’re welcome!” Rowena called after you, watching you run by. 

“Thank you!” you called back absently, hurrying out to your car. 

The drive took longer than ever before; at least, it felt like it did. You spent the whole time trying to think of what to say, of how to explain, but nothing seemed right. Nothing seemed like enough. All you could hope for was that everything would magically come to you once you stood before him. 

If he ever decided to open the goddamn door. 

“Dammit, Dean! Open the fucking door before I break it down!” you yelled, banging your hand against the wood for the upteenth time. 

You opened your mouth to yell once more, but before you could even make a sound a voice boomed out from behind you. “What are you doing here?” 

You turned with a start, coming face to face with Dean as he stood at the bottom of the steps. “I came to talk to you,” you said simply, taking a few steps forward. 

He quickly averted his gaze, focusing on wiping the grease from his hands with the rag he held. “Coulda just called,” he countered gruffly. 

“Why?” you asked, laughing dryly. “You’d just ignore my calls.” 

He stilled his ministrations for a moment before shrugging, glancing back up at you. “Maybe ‘cause we got nothing to talk about.” 

“Dean-” you tried to argue, though you stopped short when he rolled his eyes and turned away from you. 

“Look, I know all about you and Sam, okay?” he huffed, storming across the drive and to where Baby was parked, hood still open for Dean to continue working on her.  

“Oh, for god’s sake, Dean. There is no me and Sam!” you exclaimed with a groan, quickly following behind him. 

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he placated, picking up his previously abandoned ratchet. 

“Just listen to me,” you pleaded, watching his face scrunch with a mix of frustration and concentration as he dove back into his work. 

“You don’t need to explain,” he said distractedly. “I get it. He’s good for you. I just-... you didn’t need to hide it, [Y/N/N]. I thought we were closer than that.” 

“We are! That’s not what we were hiding, just let me explain!” you said desperately, stepping closer to him. 

“You can quit the act, okay?” he snapped, stopping what he was doing as he stood up, finally turning to look at you. “I have eyes, I saw what-” 

“Sam and I fucking switched bodies!” you yelled over him, effectively rendering him speechless. “Alright? When you walked in on us doing that spell the other week… it went wrong, Dean. Sam and I, we just-... we switched!”

“You… switched bodies?” he asked slowly, scepticism starting to present itself on his face as he processed what you said.

“Yes,” you confirmed softly. ”I was Sam, Sam was me.”

He nodded, shifting uncomfortably as he anxiously tapped his fingers on Baby’s exterior. “Well, isn’t that just a great story,” he muttered, leaning under the hood once more. 

“It’s not a story,” you argued desperately. “It’s what happened.” 

“Then why not tell me?” he challenged, not missing a beat. 

“Because,” you began lamely. “You always have so much on your plate, Dean. We didn’t want to shove this stupid thing on you and add to your worries.” 

“So you lied to me for my own good?” he asked harshly, gaze not straying from his hands as he worked. 

“We didn’t lie, we just-”

“Avoided the truth,” he finished for you. “Same thing, if you ask me.”

“We thought it was for the best,” you admitted quietly. 

“Oh, yeah,” he agreed sarcastically, throwing his tools down. “Sneaking around, icing me out. Definitely for my best interest, huh?” 

“Dean, please,” you pleaded. “I didn’t come here to fight with you.” 

“Then why did you come, [Y/N]?” he shouted, shutting Baby’s hood. “What did you think was gonna happen here?” 

“Well, I thought-... I just-... I wanted to clear the air,” you stammered. “I wanted to explain.” 

“Well, you explained,” he muttered, busying himself with tidying his mess. 

You watched him silently for a few moments, trying to think of your next move. You decided to ask the question that’s been on your mind since he left: “Were you really planning on actually telling me one day?” 

He let out an irritated sigh, picking up his belongings and moving around to the trunk. “What are you talking about?” 

“Were you really gonna tell me?” you repeated, quickly taking a few steps to meet him at the trunk.  

“Tell you what?” he huffed, irritation oozing off of him as he slammed the toolbox down. 

“How you feel!” you blurted out, taking yet another step towards him. 

“The hell are you talking about?” he questioned, feigning cluelessness. Though the way his body stiffened as he idly messed with the stuff in the trunk betrayed him; he knew what you meant.  

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you replied softly. “Were you?” 

“I don’t know!” he huffed, shutting the trunk. “Maybe,” he added, walking away from you once more. 

“You said-” 

“I know what I said!” he interrupted, clearly irritated. “Can we not relive it? I don’t want to talk about this.” 

“Well I do!” you argued, exasperated. “Why the fuck else do you think I’m here, Dean?”

“To clear the air,” he sneered, repeating your earlier words as he made his way back to the cabin. 

“To tell you I love you!” you shouted after him, stopping him in his tracks. “I didn’t choose Sam. How can I choose him when I’ve loved you for years? How can I choose him when my entire world stopped spinning the day you shut me out of your life all those years ago? How can I choose him when I didn’t feel like I could breathe until you finally spoke to me again? How can I choose him, when having to watch you walk away the other day was the most terrifying thing I had to do, because I didn’t know if I’d ever get you back this time? You can put us in any timeline, in any universe, or in any realm, and I will always choose you. I love you.”

You were met with silence for entirely too long, and you watched the unsteady rise and fall of his shoulders as he kept his back to you, standing tense as ever with his head down low. 

“Will you just look at me, please?” you pleaded shakily.

As soon as the words left your mouth he spun on his heel and marched towards you, closing the distance between you two in seconds. He grabbed your face in his hands, letting a moment of hesitation pass by before crashing his lips against yours. It was harsh yet delicate, slow but needy. It was gentle and all consuming. His hands strayed from your face, one sweeping to the back of your head to hold you steady while the other slipped to your waist and pulled you close. Your hands found themselves gliding up his arms, resting on the base of his neck for a moment before settling on his cheeks. 

When the two of you finally pulled away to catch your breath, it seemed like neither of you wanted to go too far; foreheads pressed together and noses brushing as you both giggled quietly, shy smiles on your swollen lips. 

You stood like that for a few minutes, basking in each other's presence in ways you never could before, until your gentle whisper cut through the silence: “Please come home, Dean.” 

“My sweet girl,” he said quietly, planting a delicate kiss to your forehead before completely wrapping you up in his arms, holding you closer than ever. “I am home.”

tagging: @winharry

dividers by @firefly-graphics and @saradika

[lipstick-and-libraries]

New Dorm, New Chance? PT. 1

𓋜 Pairing: Minho (XO, Kitty) x fem! Reader

𓋜 Series: The Roommate Exchange

𓋜 Summary: You are Kitty's new Roommate, after she decided to switch Rooms to avoid Yuri and Juliana, and it's not long until you get the opportunity to meet her first roommates.

𓋜 Notes:

Hey <3

I don't know if anyone is gonna read this at all, but I decided to get back into writing, and due to Season Two coming out, I have an unhealthy obsession with XO, Kitty. So, I sat down, saw the lack of XO, Kitty fics and created a little something, I hope you enjoy! I'd be grateful for any kind of feedback

The second semester at KISS was off to a chaotic start, as usual, but for Kitty Song Covey, things were finally starting to settle down. After pleading with the principal, she’d managed to switch dorms and move in with a close friend of hers, (Y/N). It was a decision that made perfect sense—Kitty needed a break from the awkward tension of her old room, and (Y/N)’s calming presence was exactly what she needed to focus on her whirlwind of romantic and academic entanglements.

(Y/N) had been nothing short of the perfect roommate. She was effortlessly chic, deeply intuitive, and, unlike most students at KISS, refreshingly down-to-earth. Kitty often marveled at how (Y/N) could command attention without even trying. The girl had a natural elegance that seemed to enchant everyone she met.

One Saturday afternoon, Kitty left their shared dorm to meet up with Yuri to continue the search for her family. “Dae, Minho, and Q might stop by later,” she called over her shoulder. “I told them they could hang out until I’m back.”

“Got it,” (Y/N) replied, lounging on the kitchen counter with a book in her hands.

When Minho, Dae, and Q arrived at Kitty’s new dorm, Minho was mid-rant about his latest gym mishap.

“Who even uses the elliptical when the treadmill’s free? It’s practically a crime—”

“Minho,” Q interrupted, rolling his eyes. “You’ll live. Just knock on the door.”

Minho sighed dramatically before rapping his knuckles against the door. When no one answered, he opened it cautiously.

“Kitty? We’re here—”

But it wasn’t Kitty who greeted them. Instead, they were met with the sight of (Y/N) sitting on the kitchen counter, one leg crossed over the other, a book perched casually in her hands. The sunlight streaming through the window seemed to frame her like a painting, catching the soft waves of her hair and the slight smirk on her lips.

Minho stopped mid-step, his usual self-assured demeanor faltering.

“Oh,” (Y/N) said, glancing up from her book. Her voice was smooth, effortlessly composed. “You must be Kitty’s friends.”

Dae offered a polite smile. “Yeah, I’m Dae. That’s Q, and… Minho.”

(Y/N) nodded, her eyes flickering briefly to Minho, who was still standing frozen by the door.

“Kitty mentioned you might drop by,” (Y/N) said, closing her book and hopping off the counter with a grace that made Minho’s heart stutter. “She’s out snooping with Yuri again, but you’re welcome to wait here.”

“Cool, thanks,” Q said, settling onto the couch. Dae followed suit, but Minho hesitated, still trying to gather his thoughts.

“She’s—” Minho started, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. He coughed, trying to sound casual. “She didn’t say her new roommate was…you know, you.”

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” She wasn't exactly popular by any means, but she also wasn't completely unknown. She leads a couple of language and study courses, and word spread that its not only brains, but beauty too that convinced people to visit her student courses.

As the afternoon wore on, Minho found himself increasingly distracted. While Dae and Q scrolled through their phones and chatted, Minho’s attention kept drifting to (Y/N). There was something about her thsn threw him off, and not in a bad way. Where most people at KISS seemed eager to impress or compete, (Y/N) seemed content just to exist in her own world.

She didn’t try to fill the silence with small talk or flashy gestures. Instead, she moved with an easy confidence, offering the occasional witty comment that left Minho scrambling for a clever response.

At one point, she caught him staring.

“Something on your mind?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.

Minho flushed. “Uh, no. Just…trying to figure out what book you were reading before.”

(Y/N) held up the cover—an old, leather-bound edition of Wuthering Heights.

Minho blinked. “You’re reading…that? Isn’t it, like, super depressing?”

“It’s beautiful,” (Y/N) countered, a faint smile playing on her lips. “And complicated. Kind of like people. You should borrow it sometime”

Minho didn’t know how to respond to that, so he settled for an awkward nod.

After an hour, Q and Dae decided to head out to grab food. “You coming, Minho?” Dae asked, already halfway out the door.

“I’ll catch up,” Minho said quickly, waving them off.

(Y/N) lead the two boys to the door, giving them the spare key Kitty had told her to give to them, and apologizes for Kitty being this late. Once the door closed, the room fell quiet.

Minho shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to say.

“So…how do you know Kitty?” he asked finally, leaning against the back of the couch.

“We met at orientation,” (Y/N) replied. “She’s…unlike anyone else. In a good way.”

Minho chuckled. “That’s one way to describe her.”

(Y/N) grabs her book and puts it away on the small shelf standing in the living room and looked at him, her gaze steady but not intimidating. “And what about you? How do you know Kitty?”

“She’s…” Minho hesitated, then shrugged. “Complicated.”

(Y/N)’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “You should know a thing or two about that, based on what i've already seen from you”

For the first time, Minho felt like someone had peeled back the layers of his carefully curated persona. Most people saw him as the charming, confident playboy, but (Y/N) seemed to see through all of that.

The turning point came when (Y/N) decided to make tea.

“Want some?” she asked, holding up a kettle.

“Sure,” Minho said, joining her in the kitchen.

As they stood side by side, he found himself relaxing for the first time all day. (Y/N) handed him a mug, her fingers brushing against his. The brief contact sent a jolt through him, but he played it off, sipping his tea like nothing had happened.

“This is good,” he said, gesturing to the tea.

“Thanks,” (Y/N) replied. “It’s an old family recipe.”

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” she said, her smile teasing.

When Kitty returned later that evening, she found Minho still in the dorm, sitting on the couch with (Y/N). They were deep in conversation, their laughter filling the room.

“Am I interrupting something?” Kitty asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” Minho said quickly, standing up. “I was just—uh—leaving.”

As he walked past (Y/N), he hesitated for a moment. “See you around?”

“Maybe,” (Y/N) replied, her tone light but her eyes warm.

After Minho left, Kitty turned to (Y/N), a knowing grin spreading across her face. “What was that about?”

(Y/N) shrugged, but her cheeks flushed slightly. “Nothing. Just talking.”

Kitty didn’t buy it for a second. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

(Y/N) gives her a grin of her own and links her arm with Kitty's.

"While we're on the topic, how'd your little date with Yuri go?"

Kitty's eyes go wide, nudging (Y/N) playfully while laughing

"Hey! I'm the one asking Questions, not you!"

That night, as Minho lay in bed, he couldn’t stop thinking about (Y/N). The way she smiled, the way she seemed to see right through him, the way her laugh made his chest feel lighter.

For the first time in a long time, Minho felt something real—something that scared him but also excited him.

Part 2

[marauder-misprint]

Book Club

James Potter x gn!reader (also pretty house neutral too)

1.7k words

cw: fluff

“Where you off to, Prongs?” Remus asks as James suddenly gets up from his spot on the common room couch and headed for the portrait hole.

“Library.”

Remus tilts his head. “What for?”

“Book club.” 

Lily giggles from a table nearby. Sirius and Peter sport confused looks and Remus looks simply unconvinced. 

“You’re in a book club?” Lily asks. Her amusement is obvious in her voice.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t believe you,” Sirius says with a wide crooked grin on his face. He has suspicions. “Where you really off to?”

“The library, I swear,” James answers.

“As a punish for McGonagall or something, yeah?” Peter asks.

“No. Because I want to.”

They all stare at James with varying degrees of confusion and disbelief so James pulls out the assigned book from his bag. He branishes it for them to see. 

“Huh,” Sirius says. “Have fun, I guess.”

That had been none of his suspicions. The group watches in silence as James leaves the common room. None of them quite believed that he had joined a book club on his own accord. But he had. 

He had specifically asked if he could join. You had turned toward him from the small group of people you had been talking with. James thought his heart stopped beating when you smiled at him and said that of course he could join, the book club was open to all. He joined your small circle as you rehashed which book was next and when you’d be meeting. James had stood with you until everyone else had left. He asked you more about the book club, if there was anything he was supposed to be looking for in the book, like themes or character archetypes or seeing if it matched a hero’s journey method of storytelling. You laugh sounded like wind chimes after he asked that. You assured him that you were reading for fun and anything he got out of the book and wanted to talk about was enough. Even if he had nothing he wanted to talk about, he should come to the meeting and listen. You explained that maybe someone else’s insight might make something connect for him.

James knew he was probably imagining it, but it really felt like you wanted him to come. Like you had been waiting for him to ask if he could join. Afterall, you hadn’t given him the confused or disbelieving look everyone you were talking with had given him, the same looks his friends gave him when he left the common room. That left him with two options: either you knew absolutely nothing about him and were just that excited about your book club, or, and this one is far more desirable for him, you knew James wasn’t really a bookworm but you were excited that he was interested in joining your club. He convinced himself it was the second because how could you not know anything about him? And if you were that excited for him joining his club, maybe you were as interested in him as he was in you. 

“James!” your voice called from the upper level of the library almost as soon as he walked through the doors. 

You are standing at the bannister with your torso half leaning over it. Even from below, James could see the death grip you had on the railing to prevent yourself from possibly falling forward as you wave at him. He waves back up at you and heads for the stairs. Just hearing you call his name and waving with such vigor brought a massive grin to his face. You wait for him to walk the length of the library back to you. James flexes his fingers at his side, trying to squash the urge to reach out and grab your hand.

“We’re just over here,” you say as you lead him into the shelves. 

There’s a circular table that has two open chairs. One for you and one for James. To his delight, they are right next to each other. After sitting down, James looks around the table, seeing who he’s agreed to spend his evening with, besides you, of course. Everyone from the group you had been talking to the day he asked about the club is there, along with a few more students. Mostly older students, although he thinks there is a third year on the opposite end of the table, sinking further into her chair. She was definitely feeling intimidated by the older students. The students were mostly Ravenclaw, with a few Hufflepuffs and a Slytherin. James feels slightly out of place as a Gryffindor. 

“Everyone read the book?” you ask, taking your copy out of the bag that was slung over your chair. 

There were affirmative murmurs around the table. 

“Great!” you exclaim, clasping your hands together like an overexcited teacher about to lecture on their choice passion subject. “What’d we all think? Lovegood, you want to go first?”

A blond boy, a seventh year James thinks, sitting next to the young girl, looks up at you and nods. He clears his throat before his light voice breaks into a monologue about how he doesn’t relate to the main character at all, but he feels very akin to a character who was only in two chapters. 

James doesn’t listen to much of what the Ravenclaw is saying. He keeps shifting his gaze between you and his book. His fingers fiddle with the worn pages. You had told him that Madam Pince had more than enough copies of this book in the library for the group, but you wouldn’t let that deter your selection of future reads. You would be more than happy to lend James your copy of a book, as long as he didn’t mind your notes in the margins. He couldn’t wait until you assigned a book that he could oh-so-casually borrow from you. 

Right now, you appear to be listening so intently to Lovegood. Your eyes don’t leave his direction and you’re leaned ever so slightly over the table, nodding every so often. James thinks you’re soaking in every word, waiting for him to stop talking so you can pipe in with your thoughts. But when he stops talking and looks around the table expectantly, it’s one of the Hufflepuffs who goes next. Her takeaways build off of Lovegood’s, but in a way that James finds much more relatable. He finds it almost difficult to care though; the only one at the table whose thoughts he actually wants to hear are yours. So he leans back in his chair. He’d wait for you to speak. 

James’ eyes continue to flicker between his book, which he’s taken to holding in his hands and flipping through the pages as if looking for a passage he wants to comment on, and you. As the Slytherin speaks, you twirl some of your hair around your finger in a repetitive way. James can’t see the semi-glossed over look in your eyes or how absentminded you’ve become listening to the others at the table. You had started the session with actually listening, but as your peers droned on and on about the book you’d chosen, you find yourself caring less and less about what they said. You wish that James would speak up. You want to know what he thought of it. You have to keep telling yourself that it’s because he’s new to your book club and that’s all.

By the time Madam Pince approaches the table to tell you that she’s closing the library soon, neither you nor James had given thoughts. The group gets up almost simultaneously. James offers some small talk to the Ravenclaw on his other side.

“I’ll have the next book picked out by Thursday,” you say, pushing your chair in. “It’ll be posted on the bulletin board, like usual.”

Members of the club break into smaller groups as they leave with their friends. You linger by the table like you usually do. You like to give members a chance to talk to you after meetings if they want to. The only one lingering with you is James. He walks side-by-side with you as you make your way to the stairs.

“Didn’t hear your thoughts on the book,” you muse as you walk together.

“Bit nervous for my first meeting,” he replies, running a hand through his hair. “I did like the book, really.”

You nod and smile. 

“You didn’t talk either,” James points out. “I mean, between when you started the meeting and ended it.”

“I was a bit distracted,” you say softly with a chuckle. “And I’ve read this one like a hundred times. Think I talked everyone’s ear off when I picked it.”

“My ear didn’t get talked off.”

You give James a small smile. “Because you joined after I picked it.”

“So? I think I’m still entitled to having my ear talked off.” James pauses, his eyes lighting up as he had an idea. “Are your thoughts in the margins of your book?”

“Uh… yeah, they are. I always write in my books when I own them…”

“Then can I borrow yours? I’ll reread it! I’d love to know what you think of chapter seven.”

Your eyes widen. You stop walking so you can turn fully toward James. You haven’t even left the library yet and you know Madam Pince is eyeing the two of you from somewhere in the shelves. 

“You really want to borrow my book to reread it?” you ask in disbelief. “But you’ll have a new one to read in a day or two.”

James shakes his head, sporting his own small smile. “I know, but I want to know what you think about this one.” He waves his library copy in front of your face. “And then when I’m done, we can meet over coffee or tea or something and discuss. Because, you know, you didn’t get to hear my thoughts on it either.”

Your smile grows slowly as you reach into your bag to retrieve your copy.

“I’d… I’d like that,” you say, holding out the book for James, although you jerk it back just as he’s about to grab it. “But! If you lose this book, I will murder you.”

He snatches it out of your hands with the widest smile you’ve seen on his face. 

“I wouldn’t dream of losing it.”

James places the library copy in the return cart before he follows you out of the library. He’s feeling very satisfied and confident. He’s more convinced than before that your excitement for him joining your book club was for spending time with him rather than an overall love of books. 

[sweetdispatch]

Step 1 - L. Hughes

Seven Steps pairing: Luke Hughes x fem!reader summary: You went to a party and met Luke with whom you decided to leave the house warning: none

It took a lot of convincing for your friends to take you out on a party. You weren't a fan of them. Much more you preferred to stay at home and read a book. This was your friend’ boyfriend's birthday party and after a couple days, you agreed to go with them. You went shopping to buy a gift for him. The last thing you wanted was to show up with empty hands. 

You promised yourself to stay there for two hours and get back home. You weren't much of a drinker and you couldn't understand how people can get drunk at every opportunity they have. Your friends were drunk dancing on a dancefloor. Meanwhile you were standing in a kitchen with a beer in your hand. 

“You also don’t want to be here?” You heard an unfamiliar voice.

“Yeah but the birthday boy is my friend’ boyfriend so I showed up” You took a sip. 

“I’m Luke” He reached out your hand to you. You shook it and looked up at him. 

“I’m Y/N” You smiled at him. 

“How about ditching the party and going somewhere else?” Luke proposed but you were sceptical. 

You didn’t know him but eventually you agreed. You put the cup down and left with Luke the house. He told you that not far away from here is a McDonalds that is open 24/7. You nodded and you two were walking there in silence until he spoke again. 

“So Y/N, what are you doing?” Luke asked you. 

“Currently I’m walking” Luke laughed at your answer. “I’m working in my mum’ shop and trying to enjoy my boring life. How about you?” 

“I’m an athlete and all I’m doing is training and playing” Luke answered. 

“Let me guess. Since we’re in New Jersey I’m guessing you’re a hockey player” You joked but Luke agreed with you. “Oh, that’s cool. I don’t watch hockey but my brother loves this sport and is at every game” 

“But you’re not a fan?” Luke asked you again.

“Not really. I mean I’ll watch a game with him from time to time but it’s not my cup of tea. Does it mean you hate me now?” You joked. 

“Actually, no. It made me like you even more” Luke said to you and you felt your cheeks burning. 

After 10 minutes, you two arrived in front of the McDonalds and Luke opened the door for you. He insisted on paying for your order too but you didn’t let him. When you two get the food you started eating and the conversation was coming so naturally between both of you. 

“You’re stubborn” Luke said and took a bite. 

“I know but I don’t want you to pay for me when I have my money” You shrugged. 

“Coming back to the hockey topic, do you like any other sport or you’re not a fan of it?” Luke asked you. He wanted to know. 

“I like running and that’s basically the only sport I do but to watch, I like soccer. I used to play it in high school and sometimes I watch games” You took a sip of your drink. “You? Do you like other sports or is it just hockey?” 

“I like golfing. I like to watch football and baseball but hockey is pretty much my whole life. My parents played and now me and my brothers are playing” Luke told you. 

“Wait, you said your brothers” Luke nodded, not sure where the conversation was going. “You’re one of the brothers who plays in New Jersey?” 

“Yeah. Me and Jack play here and Quinn is in Vancouver” Luke replied. 

“That must be cool to do the same profession as your brothers” You said but noticed the weird look in Luke’ eyes. 

“It is but it’s also tiring. As the youngest, I’m all the time compared to them and sometimes it's annoying” Luke admitted to you. 

“I get it. Back in school, I was all the time compared to my brother and I was so mad at everyone for this” You told him and continued eating. 

You and Luke sat there for a couple hours. The conversation was coming naturally between you two. There was no small talk and you learnt a lot about him and he learnt a lot about you. It was so nice to have someone to talk to without being judged. You had a lot of laughs together too but you were sure that it’s one time thing. 

“I need to get back home. I promised to be around midnight but currently it’s 3AM” You told him and stood up.

“Let me walk you home. I don’t want you to get back alone when it’s dark” Luke proposed. 

“I live like 30 minutes from here. I don’t want you to walk this distance. I’ll call the cab” You told him but he stopped you. 

“I drove here in a car. We can go back to the house where the party is and I can drive you home” Luke insisted. 

“I don’t want to bother you” You looked at him and saw that Luke won’t let it go. “Okay, thank you” 

After a quick walk, you sat on the passenger seat of Luke’ car. The whole drive was quiet. You two felt comfortable in each other's company. It wasn’t an awkward silence but something both of you needed. He parked in front of your house and you sat there a little longer. 

“Thank you for the night and thank you for the drive. It was really nice to meet you Luke” You told him and grabbed the car door handle. Before you could open the door, he stopped you. 

“Can I have your phone number? I don’t want this to be a one night thing because I had a fun time with you” Luke asked shyly. 

“Sure” Luke handed you his phone. You quickly type your number. “Thanks again for tonight” 

You exited the car and walked into your house. You ran upstairs to get ready for bed. After 30 minutes you left the bathroom and laid in your bed. You grabbed your phone and noticed a message from an unknown number. You knew it was Luke and quickly you sent him back a text. You placed the phone under your pillow and fell asleep.

Step 2

[girllblogging777]

𝐹𝑅𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐹𝐿𝐼𝑅𝑇𝐴𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁

↳ mattheo riddle x fem!reader (best friends, flirting)

↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : 1.4k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : exploring a haunted house isn’t very pleasant… except when your flirty best friend mattheo is with you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

you never should’ve let the boys convince you to sneak out after curfew.

the slytherin common room had been buzzing with energy earlier, filled with laughter and stories about the supposedly haunted house at the border of the forbidden forest. you’d been reading your book, half listening to what your friends were saying as they argued about whether or not they believed in these rumours, or if it was just another one of the castle’s unsolved mysteries.

“it’s not even that far,” theo had said casually, grinning. “we’ll be back before anyone notices.” and of course, you didn’t wanna be the only one to back out. not when you were the only girl in the group, always trying to prove yourself to them. not when you wanted to keep that confident and fierce image you had. and especially not when mattheo riddle was watching you with that usual smirk of his, his dark eyes practically daring you to say no.

✩✩✩✩

so here you were tonight, standing outside some old crumbling building that once had been called a house. the full moon hung high in the sky, casting eerie shadows around you and the boys. the air was colder here too, sending shivers down your back and under the knitted sweater you were wearing. but, of course, you weren’t gonna let anyone know that.

enzo and blaise were already thrilled when they pushed open the door, making plans and chatting excitedly about the little nighttime adventure you were having. draco and theo strode confidently behind them, following them inside and leaving you standing next to mattheo, who was staring at you with crossed arms, looking calmer than you’d even seen him.

“scared yet ?” he asked, his voice low and teasing. you rolled your eyes and scoffed, pretending you didn’t notice the way your heart rate sped up - from the alluring boy or the frightening house next to you, that you didn’t know. “please. this place is barely standing. the only thing i’m worried about is the roof caving in.”

he chuckled at your answer and leaned closer “don’t worry. if it does, i’ll protect you.”

your stomach flipped, and this time you knew it had nothing to do with whatever ghosts were inside that house. the brunette boy was the only human being who had such an effect on you, and you hated it. “ghosts be damned,” you muttered, shaking your head as you followed the others inside. “i don’t need your protection.”

“that we’ll see, love” mattheo said behind you, barely above a whisper.

inside, the house was somehow creepier than you’d imagined. there was dust everywhere, and when the floor creaked beneath your steps, you understood why all these rumours had been invented in the first place. despite the darkness, you could see the faded paintings on the wall, following you as you walked down the narrow hallway. at some point you could’ve sworn one of the figures on the portraits moved, but when you turned to look at it, nothing.

a couple of feet away, blaise was laughing at something draco had said, but you were too busy scanning the dark corners of the house to listen to their conversation. theo was already taking about splitting up, which of course, only managed to make the anxiety tighten in your chest.

“everyone, make groups !” the boys declared, clearly excited and proud of their idea. “makes it more fun”

before you could protest, mattheo was at your side again. you’d been hyper aware of his presence behind you for the past couple of minutes, and now there he was, grinning down at you as your shoulders brushed. “well, looks like we’re partners, then.” you shot him a look. “convenient.”

“hey, you’ll thank me later,” he said with a wink, and it took everything in you not to make another sarcastic remark. still, you couldn’t help but feel a little relieved now, knowing you wouldn’t walk through this scary place alone.

the two of you silently ventured down another hallway, away from where the others were heading. the floorboards creaked with every step you took, the shadows of your tall figures stretching out against the wall as you moved deeper into the house. it was unnervingly quiet, but the sound of mattheo’s steady breaths and confident footsteps reassured you a little.

the brown eyed boy glanced at you, his pupils gleaming with amusement. “you’re quiet, getting nervous ?” you muttered a barely audible “i’m fine” though you couldn’t ignore the quickening of your pulse. you hated haunted places, or even darkness in general, but you’d rather get crucio-ed than admit that to him.

he moved closer, his warm breath hitting your neck, and you found yourself unconsciously leaning towards him when he spoke, “you can hold my hand if you get scared.” you glared at him, grateful the obscurity of the scene hid the blush on your cheek, “in your dreams.”

he laughed softly but he didn’t push it, still, his presence was oddly comforting. it made you feel a little less like something was about to jump out from the shadows, and a little more like you wanted him even closer.

somehow, the air in the house seemed to grow colder the further you walked. every once in a while, you’d hear something : a creak, a whisper, maybe just the wind, but it sets your nerves on edge.

suddenly, a loud bang echoed from one of the rooms down the hall and you jumped, grabbing mattheo’s arm without even thinking. your heart raced, and you cursed under your breath when you realised what had just happened.

“told you” he said, a grin slowly spreading across his face as he looked down at where your hand gripped his hand. you scowled, quickly letting go. “that was just instinct.” still smiling, he nodded “sure, sure…” but then his gaze softened, and his voice dropped. “don’t worry, i’ve got you.”

something in his tone made your breath catch, and for a second, you forgot where you were. the haunted house, the cold, the creepy portraits, all of it faded as you stared up at him, trying to figure out if he was being serious or if this was more of his usual flirting.

before you could say anything, another loud sound echoed from upstairs. this time, it wasn’t just a bang. it was footsteps. slow, deliberate footsteps moving across the ceiling. you froze, every muscle in your body tensing as you looked up. riddle stepped in front of you, his usual playful expression gone and replaced by something more serious.

“stay close,” he whispered and you nodded as you followed him up the creaky stairs , ignoring the tightening in your throat. each step felt heavier than the previous one and the closer you got to the top floor, the louder the sound became. you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone, or something, was watching you.

mattheo’s hand brushed against yours again, and this time you didn’t pull away. you were too focused on the shadows that seemed to move on their own, on the way the cold seemed to press in on you from all sides.

“do you trust me ?” he asked quietly. you looked up at him, surprised by the seriousness in his voice. he’d always been flirty and playful when it came to you, blurring the lines between friendship and more. however, tonight, things felt different. despite everything, you nodded “yeah…”

he squeezed your hand lightly, his hand never leaving yours. “good, because i’m not letting anything happen to you.”

“oi !” theo’s voice echoed through the hall, startling the both of you and shattering the blissful bubble you were in. you quickly dropped mattheo’s hand and stepped back, but it was too late.

theo was grinning, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, looking far too amused for someone in a haunted house, and for your liking. “well, well, well… look at you two getting all cozy up here.” your face heated up immediately, but mattheo just smirked, clearly unfazed. “jealous ?” theo proceeded to snort, “of you ? never.”

he glanced between the two of you, and the teasing look in his eyes made you wanna disappear. “we’re heading back, this place is more boring than we thought it would be. meet us downstairs and don’t get lost… or, you know, distracted.”

with that, he turned around and disappeared back down the dusty stairs, leaving you and mattheo standing there in awkward silence. you could feel your chest thumping as you tried to figure out what to say, looking at the old wallpaper that was falling apart instead of meeting his gaze.

“see ?” he whispered, leaning down just enough for you to hear. “told you i’d protect you. even from theo’s terrible sense of humour.” you groaned and pushed him slightly, the banter between you settling back down, “shut up !”

you may have hated haunted houses, but the truth was, you kind of liked the way his hand felt in yours.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a/n : hey ! this is me making my weekly appearance on this app, cause i just HAD to write about this request

please comment and reblog ! tag list (comment if you wanna be added) @tateshifts @redeemingvillains @helendeath @jolly4holly @larmesdevanille @dexoq @reys-letters @shiftingwithmars @shiftingwithleah @fbvreadingblog @moonlightreader649 @bellatrix-lestrange5 @sp7-mr @sunkissedscribbles @chelawrites @myunperfektstorys @iris-qt @yikesitslush @clar2aa @deadsnakey @deadghosy @slut-for-fictional-men @romantasyreader28 @witchsrecs

[cameronsbabydoll]

TUTOR POPE HEYWARD x BIMBO KOOK READER

Pope was convinced he had the patience of a saint.

He had to, or else he wouldn’t still be sitting here, rubbing his temples as you mindlessly chewed on the end of her pen, staring at the open textbook in front of her like it was written in some ancient, impossible language.

“So,” Pope tried again, voice strained but calm, “if x is equal to five, what’s y?”

You hummed, tilting your head like he’d just asked you to recite the Declaration of Independence from memory. Your manicured nail tapped against the page, following the numbers with an exaggerated pout. “Mmmm... seven?”

Pope inhaled slowly. “No. Look at the equation again.”

You groaned, collapsing onto the desk like a wilted flower. “This is so hard, Popey. And boring. Like, sooo boring.”

His jaw ticked. “It’s not boring. You just have to focus.”

You peeked up at him, chin resting against your folded arms, all big doe eyes and a slow, dramatic blink. “But that’s the problem,” you whined. “Focusing is sooo hard.”

Pope pressed his fingers against his temples. He should’ve known what he was signing up for when your family insisted on overpaying him for these tutoring sessions. He’d told himself the money was worth it. That he’d suffer through a few hours a week of your ridiculous little distractions and be done with it.

But he hadn’t accounted for the way you were.

The lip gloss that always shined just a little too much under the light. The perfume that was so sugary sweet it lingered even after you left. The way you knew you could get away with anything with a well-placed pout and a flutter of your lashes.

And worst of all? The fact that you did it all so naturally.

Pope gritted his teeth and pointed back at the book. “Try again.”

You groaned, straightening up, tapping your pen against your lip. “Can’t we just, like... take a break?”

“No.”

You pouted. “You’re so mean.”

Pope exhaled sharply. “I’m your tutor. Not your friend. Not your—”

Your phone buzzed, and before he could even finish his sentence, you gasped dramatically and snatched it up, giggling at whatever message just came through.

Pope snapped the textbook shut. “We’re done.”

You blinked. “Wait—what? But I still have, like, twenty minutes with you.”

“Not anymore.” He shoved the book into his bag and stood up. “If you’re not going to pay attention, I’m not wasting my time.”

You huffed, crossing your arms as you leaned back in your chair. “You have to tutor me, Popey. My dad already paid you so much money.”

Pope’s eye twitched at the nickname. “Yeah, well, I’ll send him a refund.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and left before you could bat those lashes at him again.

—

The Chateau was supposed to be Pope’s safe place. His escape from the sheer headache that came with tutoring you.

But, of course, the universe had other plans.

“Popey!”

Pope’s entire body tensed. No. No way.

JJ and John B, who were halfway through an old deck of cards and a case of beer, looked up at the sound of the sickly sweet voice. And then, like hyenas, their heads turned toward Pope at the exact same time, watching his soul leave his body.

You were here.

Strutting into the Chateau like you owned the place, a designer tote slung over her shoulder, your little outfit was just as ridiculous as it your been during tutoring. A short, flowy skirt that was all but begging to ride up and a tight, pastel crop top that looked like it had no business covering someone who needed tutoring in basic math.

JJ was the first to react, his face splitting into a slow, devilish grin. “Ohhhh, no way,” he muttered, elbowing John B. “This is her?”

John B let out a low whistle. “Dude. Why didn’t you tell us?”

Pope groaned, slumping against the kitchen table. “What are you doing here?”

You beamed, dropping your tote onto the counter with a dramatic flourish. “I had to come see you! I read something sooo interesting, and I knew you’d love it.”

Pope frowned, glancing at JJ and John B, who were looking at each other like this was the best thing to ever happen to them.

“You... read something interesting?”

“Uh-huh!” You perched herself onto the seat next to him, crossing your legs slowly, deliberately, like you were waiting for someone to notice.

JJ did. He was barely holding it together, shaking his head with a smirk.

Pope sighed. “Fine. What was it?”

Your whole face lit up. “This amazing Vogue article!”

Pope just stared. “You—you came all the way here to tell me about a Vogue article?”

You nodded, flipping your hair over your shoulder. “It was about, like, colors and how pink is actually, like, a power color? And I immediately thought of you.”

JJ lost it. He threw his head back, laughing so hard he nearly fell off the couch. “Oh, Pope,” he wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes, “this is so much better than I ever could’ve imagined.”

John B, barely holding it together, clapped a hand on Pope’s shoulder. “Man... you’re so screwed.”

Pope pressed his forehead against the table, defeated.

But, of course, JJ and John B weren’t done.

JJ straightened up, clearing his throat before flashing you his most charming, easy grin. “That’s actually so interesting,” he said, voice dripping with faux sincerity.

You perked up immediately, turning to him with wide, excited eyes. “Right? It’s, like, sooo crazy. Like, I always knew pink was, like, iconic, but apparently, it’s, like, a psychological thing? And I just know it would look so good on Pope.”

JJ nodded, resting his elbow on his knee. “Yeah, yeah, totally. I always tell Pope he should wear more pink. Right, John B?”

John B, barely containing his amusement, played along effortlessly. “Oh, yeah. He’d rock it.”

Pope glared at both of them. “You two are actually the worst.”

JJ ignored him completely, leaning toward you like you were the most fascinating person in the world. “You know, we were just talking about how we need more color in our lives.”

John B nodded. “Totally. And you seem like the perfect person to help us with that.”

Your face lit up. “Omg, yes! I love color coordinating outfits. Like, fashion is so important. I could totally help you guys.”

Pope sat up abruptly. “No, no, we’re good. Thanks.”

But JJ was already grinning like a devil. “Nah, man, I think you should totally hang out for a bit. Y’know, help us out. Maybe you can give us makeovers.”

Your gasp was so loud it echoed. “Wait—stop. You guys would let me?”

John B nodded sagely. “You are the expert.”

Pope shot daggers at both of them, but they didn’t care.

You clapped your hands together, practically bouncing in your seat. “Omg, yes! I love this idea. Okay, okay, we have to start with, like, basics. JJ, I totally see you as, like, a golden brown, warm-tones kind of guy. But Pope? You have to wear something softer, like a pastel.”

JJ threw an arm around Pope’s shoulders, grinning like he’d just won the lottery. “Hear that, Popey? Pastels. Power colors.”

John B leaned back, watching the absolute misery unfold on Pope’s face with pure amusement. “Damn. Who knew tutoring gigs came with perks?”

Pope just exhaled sharply, resisting every urge to throw his friends and you out of the damn house.

This was actual hell.

And the worst part?

You didn’t even notice.

[perlelune]

Training Wheels | Coriolanus Snow | iii.

Your mother's macabre work never appealed to you as you always preferred the comfort of your books, but when her apprentice takes a special interest in you, your safe, quiet world is flipped upside down.

Warnings: DUB-CON, NON-CON, Gaul!Reader, Shy Reader, Manipulation, Parental Neglect, Drinking, Peer Pressure, Hazing, University set, Loss of Virginity, Dumbification, Insecurities, Abusive Relationship, Degradation, Suicide Attempt

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

“So what’s your deal?” Festus Creed asks out of the blue. 

Your mouth opens in shock, a nervous laugh slipping out. “My deal?”

A mocking sneer twists his features. “Yeah, Coriolanus kept trying to get you to eat with us but you were being weird about it. If you hate us, just say so.”

While some snigger at the table, Coriolanus stares daggers at him. The mirth instantly vanishes from Festus’ face.

Clemensia bumps her elbow into his rib, chiding him, “Festus, come on,”

“I don’t…hate anyone,” you defend, your voice hardly above a whisper.

Clemensia flashes you a reassuring smile.

“Of course, you don’t. Coriolanus said you’re very sweet.”

Livia rolls her eyes.

“Ugh, whatever. Can we get back to discussing the Yuletide Ball?”

Surprise flutters through you. The name bears vague familiarity. It can be found in the archives detailing the history of the Capitol University. But it’d since long become a frivolity amidst concerns such as quelling the uprisings in the Districts. What’s a students’ dance in the face of war and famine?

“The Yuletide Ball? I thought this was an abolished tradition…I mean since the war.”

Excitement illuminates Livia’s face.

“We’re bringing back the tradition this year, thanks to Coriolanus here. He convinced the new dean.”

Coriolanus lowers his head in apparent humbleness.

“I just made a few good points and he couldn’t refuse me,” he shares. He turns to you, blue eyes sparkling.  “I’m pretty persuasive when I need to be.” A chill dances through you at his low, suggestive tone. 

To your relief, his attention switches to the rest of the table.

“It’s important to not let District scum ruin our way of life. Traditions must return.”

Livia smirks. “Spoken like a student body president.”

Coriolanus waves a dismissive hand but a hint of smugness lingers in his tone as he says, “Please, elections are only in a month.”

“And it’s obvious you’ll win,” Clemensia states.

He gives a light shrug.

“We shall see.”

Clemensia pivots to you.

“Ivy, Liv and I are on the Ball committee,” she preens, her face brightening. “You could join us if you want.”

You lick your lips. “I don’t know if I’d find the time with midterms coming up soon…”

Coriolanus’ fingertips graze your arm as he offers, “You should do it, angel. It’d be a good way to expand your social circle.”

“You mean her nonexistent circle,” Festus gibes.

The blond’s jaw clenches.

“Talk to her like that again and see what happens, Creed.”

Festus cowers, nervousness flickering on his face. He clears his throat.

“Sorry,” he says to you.

“It’s fine.”

Coriolanus’ fingers latch around your wrist as his steely gaze cuts into Festus.

“No, it’s not fine,” he articulates. 

Undisturbed by the altercation between the boys, Clemensia prattles on about the ball.

“We meet up every Saturday morning. We’re working on winter-themed decorations right now. It’ll be so fun. It takes forever to do though.” She looks at you with emphasis. “An extra set of hands would be really welcome.”

“Clemensia…”

“Call me Clemmie,” she interrupts. “All my friends do.”

Friends? You study her hand clasped around yours. The concept is a little foreign to you. You also ponder why someone like Clemensia, with her perfect silky mane and smooth, blemish-free face would want to befriend you. She is the girl everyone gravitates towards. Charismatic, smart and nice to boot. And you might as well be a fly on a wall, ignored on the best days.

You are so stunned that it takes a shamefully long time for the words to fall back on your tongue.

“Clemmie, I’m usually busy on Saturday.”

“Oh.” She deflates, her hold on your hand loosening. “I get it. Sorry I asked.”

The excitement on her face plummets. Immediately, you feel terrible. You’ve never missed a single Saturday of studying, using that time to break down your more complicated courses of the week. But Clemmie looks crestfallen.

Perhaps, this one time, you can adjust your plans a little. One Saturday won’t make a difference in the entire year.

“But…I can try to free up some time,” you offer.

She perks up with your response.

“Great. We’ll be expecting you then.”

Lunch then proceeds, the table resuming the lively debate they were having before you showed up. Festus maintains facts about his family’s role in the reconstruction after the war while Clemensia rolls her eyes. They go back and forth and you observe them, slightly fascinated by the exchange. It’s such a rare occurrence for you to be around others that you soak every bit of their interaction. You get the inkling this happens a lot between them, them ruffling each other’s feathers. Ivy and Livia get wrapped in their own secret conversation you don’t catch a single word of. Meanwhile, Coriolanus watches all of them, taking a bite of the food on his plate every once in a while. The way he eats is slow, nonchalant, almost like he couldn’t care less what’s on his plate. Even if he doesn’t interject at any point, he looks right at home at this table. Unlike you. You recline into silence, letting every minute fly by as you wait for lunch to be over. When it finally is, relief surges inside you. 

You mumble a quick goodbye and gather your things. Clemensia beams and waves at you while the others barely acknowledge your departure. 

You head for the hallways, trying not to allow your mind to linger on the strange, uncomfortable lunch. Still, your mind swirls. You curse yourself for every blunder and awkward moment. You told him you don’t belong, that you’re an outsider, and always will be. It’s painfully obvious. From the way you dress, talk, carry yourself, you have nothing in common with girls like Clemensia or Livia. There’s a vast chasm between you and them. He should have listened. It astounds you that you even let yourself get roped into joining Clemensia’s committee thing. Though perhaps that won’t be too much of a hassle. You’ll show up to keep your word, then sink back into your rigid study routine.

Coriolanus’ deep voice, a sound you’re now oddly familiar with, erupts behind you.

“Let me carry those for you,” he says, swiping the books in your arms before you can protest. He falls in pace with you, a gentle expression decorating his  handsome face.

You frown, the uncanny emptiness of your arms swelling your discomfort.

“You don’t have to-”

“I insist,” he interrupts, chuckling lightly when you try to reach for your books and he dodges you with ease. Your shoulders sag. Your strides hasten, an urgency limning your steps now. 

Coriolanus meets no issue with your escalating cadence. He easily keeps up with you, a subtle hint of mirth lurking in his cobalt gaze. 

“It wasn’t too much, was it?” he inquires. “I know they can be a lot but they’re all good people. I promise.”

A myriad of words weigh heavy on your tongue but you diplomatically swallow each, settling for a safe, innocuous remark.

“Clemmie was nice.”

The corners of the blond’s lips quirk skyward. 

“I told you she was.”

The statement hovers between the two of you for a while. Clemensia seems nice indeed. The rest of his friend group…perhaps a little less so. Possibly a bit more cutthroat and self-absorbed. Though you surmise it is a requirement to be a member of Panem’s elite.

No other word is traded between you and him as you make your way to the lecture hall. 

“This is me,” you announce.

You turn to Coriolanus, hands stretching towards your books. He makes no move to give them back. Your forehead creases.

He gives you a sluggish once-over before offering, “What if I drove you back home after your classes?”

You nibble your bottom lip, dismayed by his proposition. You’ve caught glimpses of his fancy new car, as you’re sure most have at the University. As heir apparent to the Plinth fortune, he gets to spend money as he likes. 

“I usually walk. It’s okay.” 

He gets a little closer. “Come on, angel. Just let me do something nice for you.”

You shrink until your back hits the wall, stunned when Coriolanus follows each of your steps.

“My last lecture is…Professor Bellweather tends to ramble,” you mumble, his proximity unnerving you. “I don’t…I don’t know when he’ll be done.”

He licks his lips.

“I’ll just wait for you, angel.”

He utters the words like it’s obvious. You gawk at him. It takes you a few minutes to retrieve your speech.

You scratch your arm, your frown accentuating.

“You really don’t have to. Like I said, walking home is fine.”

The gaze trained on your form sharpens.

“And I’m offering to take you home so you don’t have to exert yourself.” He bends over you, invading the already insufficient space between the two of you. “Has a friend never done something like that for you?”

“N-No,” you admit. 

His tone’s heavy with suggestion as he rasps, “So let me be your first then, angel.”

Your heart stumbles inside your chest. 

“I’m gonna be late for class,” you blurt out, attempting to brush past him. 

Coriolanus’ hand darts out, swiftly cinching around your wrist to stop you from leaving.

“I still don’t have an answer,” Coriolanus says.

You glance from his hand, tight around your wrist, to his determined gaze. Your throat goes dry.

“Okay, you can d-drive me back home.”

He releases your wrist and returns your books, a smile ghosting over his lips.

“Wonderful. I’ll come get you later, angel.”

Clutching your books against your chest, you watch him glide away.

As promised, Coriolanus is waiting for you when you exit from your last class. You don’t even think to hide your shock as you find the blond leaning against the wall. A smirk unfans on his lips, your reaction seeming to amuse him.

He doesn’t say much to you as you walk side by side and head to his car. When you’re outside, he surprises you by opening the passenger door for you before you can even lift a hand. 

“T-Thanks,” you stammer. You plop down on the plush seat. The leather smells new and expensive.

Your nerves thrum as he takes the driver’s seat and starts the car. You’ve never been alone in a car with a boy before. Uneasy, you let your eyes roam outside the window. The Capitol’s high buildings blur past you rapidly. 

You’re lost in your thoughts when you notice the prickling sensation over your flesh, The burning, unwavering weight of Coriolanus Snow’s scrutiny. 

Your head whirls.

Bashful words quake through your lips.

“Do I have something on my face?” Your hands reach to touch it, just in case.

He chuckles.

“No,” he replies, shrugging. “It’s a nice face that’s all.”

The casual compliment sends a wave of heat through your body. 

“Can you drive?” he asks, curiosity lighting his features.

You shake your head. Getting your license has never been a priority. Besides, it’s only a thirty minute walk to get to the University. You don’t mind it, often using that time to sneak in some reading.

“No.”

“I could drive you if you like,” he offers, his gaze holding yours. “Anywhere you want to go.”

Your cheeks warm. “I’m okay.”

Coriolanus nods, his focus shifting back to the road.

“You always say that…” He hums low in his throat. “I’m just not sure I believe it, angel.”

You’re so nervous the entire drive that you don’t even notice when he arrives at your house. You stare at him, mouth agape. You haven’t given him a single instruction on how to get there.

“You know where I live?”

As he opens the door for you, Coriolanus simply replies, “You told me earlier.”

Your brows furrow. You don’t remember telling him but his tone harbors no doubt. You rummage through your brain, seeking the moment. Nothing comes up and you grow confused. 

You blink up at him.

“I-I did?”

“Yes, you did, angel.” He snorts as if your line of questioning is beyond ludicrous. “How else would I know?” He slams the door of the car as you rise. “Besides…Dr. Gaul is my mentor. Of course, I know where she lives.”

You nod. That makes sense and it didn’t even occur to you.

“I…”

He cocks his head. “What?”

You fidget beneath his stare, discomfort flaring in the pit of your stomach. 

“Nothing. Thanks for driving me home.”

He flashes you a wide smile.

“My pleasure. See you soon, angel.”

He starts the car and drives away. You don’t feel quite at ease until his car’s gone from view, heading towards the Corso.

Walter zooms across the room as soon as you enter the large apartment. Your eyes wander about. As usual, the place is empty besides you and Walter. Mother rarely spends any time here nowadays, her work occupying all of her time. 

Walter rubs his furry head against your ankle, twirling around you as he meows. He then stands on his hind legs and starts gently raking his claws across your leg. A way for him to demand that you pet him. A small smile tugging your lips, you pick him up. The orange ball of fur purrs, curling against your chest as you carry him in your arms. You make your way to the kitchen and pour a mix of leftover meat and fish in his bowl. 

You set him down on the floor. His tail wiggles as he hops to his food.

You crouch next to him.

“You wouldn’t believe what happened today, Walter,” you say while giving gentle pets to his back. “I was invited to their table.” The orange cat pauses his eating to stare up at you blankly. “Yes. Theirs,” you repeat as if he could understand you. He gives a long meow before focusing on his bowl again. You sigh. “I know. I thought the same thing.”

Once Walter’s emptied his bowl, you pick him up again and make your way to the living room. 

You collapse on the couch.

“And then…Coriolanus Snow drove me home. Yes, the Coriolanus Snow. I didn’t even think he knew I existed.”

For a while, you remain on the couch, stroking Walter’s fur as he sits on your lap. His tail whips the air, his eyes closing as you pet him. His soft rumble of content reverberates against your belly, amplifying when your fingers drag behind his pointed white ears. You lean back, a blanket of peace settling over you. 

Walter’s not just a strange-looking cat, he’s also a rescue…from your mother’s experiments. A kitten mutt with mismatched eyes, one blue and one yellow, his mushed, wrinkled face gives him a passing resemblance to a rodent. Pets like him are a rarity in today’s world as most creatures such as him were eaten during the First Rebellion. 

Your mother finds him appalling. In her eyes, he is a failed experiment. Like you. Perhaps it’s why you have such kinship with the creature. You still recall her unsettling glance in your direction the day she asked the entire class of nine-year-olds at the Academy if they had pets they were sick of. She then proceeded to burn the flesh off a lab rat to demonstrate her pulsed energy laser.

This moment is burned into your mind forever, your mother’s clinical tone chilling your blood.

You stole Walter from the Citadel and took him home that same day.

You were careful to hide him, though you suspect your mother figured out what you did. She likely added it to her long list of disappointments when it comes to you.

Sometimes, you envy Walter. The simplicity his days hinge upon. His obliviousness to the woes of the world. His uncanny ability to sleep through the chaos of it, ignore the disarray. Walter’s world consists of food, play and cuddles. 

What a blissful existence. You bet Walter never had a vexing thought in his short life.

The train of your thoughts is interrupted by the shrill ringing of the phone.

You carefully remove Walter from your lap. He meows in protest and jumps off the couch. You pick up the phone, chest clenching as a familiar face fills the flickering screen.

“Mother,” you greet. “How are you?”

She ignores your question, curtly stating, “You’re falling behind in Molecular Cell Biology.”

You know that tone all too well, the warning laced within it so achingly familiar.

Your fingers twist around the phone cord, your voice becoming small.

“I’ll get my grades up, I promise.”

Silence hovers between you and your mother for a while. Faint hope sparks within you. Perking up, you decide to tell her about your day.

“Oh, mother, today-”

“I must go,” she interrupts. “It’s time for my milk and cookies.”

Your spirits plummet. You nudge a hollow smile onto your face.

“Right. I didn’t realize,” you say, checking the clock hanging on the wall. “I’m sorry.”

She heaves out a deep sigh, her lone blue eye narrowing.

“Focus on your studies. And try not to be even more of an embarrassment to me than you already are.”

“Y-Yes, mother,” you reply, your heart shriveling inside your chest.

As she hangs up, you feel silly and horrible. Silly for trying to strike up a normal conversation with your mother. And horrible for letting her down once more.

“You came!” Clemensia exclaims as she rushes to you. You try not to tense as she gives you a tight hug. Ivy and Livia linger in the background, their eyes lifting from the crafts’ table. 

You wave at them and are surprised when Ivy wiggles her fingers at you. Livia is more withdrawn, nodding to acknowledge your presence but quickly returning to her task.

You step out of Clemensia’s embrace and flash a quick smile.

“Well I promised you that I would,” you reply nonchalantly. You take a look around the room. Various decorations and posters are propped against the walls, while snowflakes cut-outs and what looks like moon dust are scattered on the table. It seems the girls have been busy.

You turn to Clemensia. “What’s the theme again?” 

Ivy surprises you by answering cheerfully, “Well, it’ll be like a Winter daydream and we were thinking of making it a masquerade.”

Excitement sways in Clemensia’s bright eyes. “What do you think?”

“Sounds nice.” Your trite answer draws every gaze in the room to you. Awkwardly bouncing on your feet, you correct yourself, beaming at Clemensia. “I meant amazing.”

“I think so too,” she chimes.

She shows you the empty chair next to hers. The both of you sit down and she starts rambling about the theme and all the ideas she has to decorate the ballroom. You grow dizzy with all the information, trying to follow along her instructions at the same time. 

“We’ll need to find you a date,” Clemensia says. 

You shake the can of blue paint before spraying over the tree cut-out.

“It’s okay. I probably won’t be going anyway,” you respond absently. 

The pencil in Livia’s hand snaps. Your head rises. The blonde’s gaping at you. You then realize…the same look of disbelief is etched on all the girls’ features. A frown mars your brow. Did you say something wrong? You didn’t realize this was such an important event. 

A nervous laugh peals off Clemensia’s red-painted lips.

“No, but you have to,” she says, “It’s the first Yuletide Ball in over a decade. Everyone will be there.”

You shrug. “It’s four months away, Clemmie.”

Her onyx gaze shimmers.

“Well, a lot can happen in four months,” she sings, a mysterious smile spreading onto her lips.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Hi there, what's your take on Lupin's atitude towards Harry and their relationship

I think that the scene at Grimmauld Place, on deathly hallows is a very cathartic one. Harry is seeing one of his last father figures fall from a pedestal, and for me Harry acted on the right here, what do you think?

Like, their relationship is one that I'm a little weird about. Like, I'm not a big fan of Lupin, as I mentioned here. And I kinda hate when fanon treats him like Harry's cool uncle or similar to Sirius in his treatment of Harry. That is so not the case with Lupin. Like, Lupin is an expert at messing his social life up, so any relationship he's part of can't be simple.

I saw another post once that stated that it's telling that Harry calls the Mauraders: James, Sirius, Lupin, and Wormtail in his head, and yes, that is telling. The fact he keeps calling him Lupin even after Lupin makes him his son's godfather is telling regarding their emotional closeness — or lack thereof.

Harry doesn't trust Lupin the way he trusted Sirius. During 3rd year, he's the one pressing Lupin and chasing him to teach him the Patronus Charm. Lupin never mentions, in all their interactions that he knew Harry's parents. In the movies, Lupin was much more paternal towards Harry than in the books. Book Lupin is having a mental breakdown every time he looks at Harry and sees his dead friend. He lives in a constant state of guilt and I think, in book 3 he has no idea how to even approach Harry and this topic since he knows it'll bring up uncomfortable questions such as: "Where were you for 12 years?" along with digging up memories of his past that Lupin doesn't seem interested in reminiscing about until Sirius forces him to.

“All this year, I have been battling with myself, wondering whether I should tell Dumbledore that Sirius was an Animagus. But I didn’t do it. Why? Because I was too cowardly. It would have meant admitting that I’d betrayed his trust while I was at school, admitting that I’d led others along with me . . . and Dumbledore’s trust has meant everything to me.

(PoA, 356)

He says the above regarding Sirius, but the same is true for anything else in his life. Especially when it comes to his treatment of Harry. He wants to reach out, he wants to say something, but then he gets stuck wondering if he should and ends up not doing anything. He chickens out, basically.

Then Lupin disappears for, like, the entirety of book 4. Harry's in a death tournament? well, Lupin doesn't seem to care. Like, I think he does care, in a general sort of way, but he got wrapped in his own guilt and indecision that he just never makes an appearance. He probably convinced himself Harry would be worse off if Remus was there because that's what he does. He made joint appearances with Sirius and the Order in book 5, where he's clearly saying everything he needs to say to please as many people as possible because he wants to be liked. I do want to note this scene from book 5 that I feel is overlooked:

“Excellent,” said Lupin, looking up as Tonks and Harry entered. “We’ve got about a minute, I think. We should probably get out into the garden so we’re ready. Harry, I’ve left a letter telling your aunt and uncle not to worry —” “They won’t,” said Harry. “That you’re safe —” “That’ll just depress them.” “— and you’ll see them next summer.” “Do I have to?” Lupin smiled but made no answer.

(OotP, 54)

I hate this passage so much, you don't even know. Like, in my most recent reread of OotP once I read this line I closed the book and took a month-long break from my reread. Like, reading this is chewing glass for me. Because the only question on my mind is: "How could you, Remus?"

Like, I just can't imagine having an ex-student of yours, or even worse, the son of your dead best friend, tell you they don't want to go back home, that their relatives would rather they won't be safe — and all you do is give a cryptic half-assed smile.

Like, if we go with the most generous interpretation of Lupin's character, we can say he does feel awful about it but he, again, is trapped in his own indecision. Dumbledore gave him orders, and according to them Harry must return to the Dursleys, but he also cares about Hary's well-being in a vague sort of way. So, that smile we see here is Lupin trying to be reassuring through his guilt and failing miserably.

Then, of course, we can go with less favorable interpretations of how he, like many other characters, is a product of his society and upbringing. The Wizarding World doesn't really have the concept of social care and they don't really see abuse the way we do. That he honestly thinks Harry is speaking in hyperbole and is smiling because he thinks Harry's being dramatic like James used to be.

I think the truth is somewhere in between these two options, tbh.

Then he has his romance with Tonks, but Harry isn't really privy to most of it and it doesn't really concern him.

Then, we get to book 7 and that scene you mentioned.

Now, obviously, I think Harry is in the right. I think Lupin is, once again, being an indecisive cowered. Something he is very aware of. I think Harry is right in calling him out, although, perhaps it could have been done better. Both Harry and Lupin lost their tempers a bit during this scene and it shows. But, still, Harry is right about everything he says and Lupin knows this. That's why he gets angry enough to actually attack Harry. Because he has no way to argue against the truth.

“Tonks is going to have a baby.” “Oh, how wonderful!” squealed Hermione. “Excellent!” said Ron enthusiastically. “Congratulations,” said Harry. Lupin gave an artificial smile that was more like a grimace, then said, “So . . . do you accept my offer? Will three become four? [...] “Just—just to be clear,” he said. “You want to leave Tonks at her parents’ house and come away with us?” “She’ll be perfectly safe there, they’ll look after her,” said Lupin. He spoke with a finality bordering on indifference. “Harry, I’m sure James would have wanted me to stick with you.” “Well,” said Harry slowly, “I’m not. I’m pretty sure my father would have wanted to know why you aren’t sticking with your own kid, actually.” Lupin’s face drained of color. [...] “You don’t understand,” said Lupin at last. “Explain, then,” said Harry. Lupin swallowed. “I-I made a grave mistake in marrying Tonks. I did it against my better judgment and I have regretted it very much ever since.” “I see,” said Harry, “so you’re just going to dump her and the kid and run off with us?” Lupin sprang to his feet: His chair toppled backward, and he glared at them so fiercely that Harry saw, for the first time ever, the shadow of the wolf upon his human face. “Don’t you understand what I’ve done to my wife and my unborn child? I should never have married her, I’ve made her an outcast!” Lupin kicked aside the chair he had overturned.

(DH, 184)

He knows Harry is right, but he also truly believes marrying Tonks was a mistake for how she and the yet unborn Teddy would have to live their lives with him being a werewolf. He feels guilty and awful and he's trying to do here what Lupin always does — run away from his problems. Except, in the above scene, Harry doesn't let him have a pretty excuse for running off. Because when Lupin runs from his issues, he always makes sure to have an excuse. Somehow the excuse is always: "I'm a werewolf, and I'll make everything worse". I mean, he quit being the DADA teacher before they could fire him. All he does is run before the other shoe drops. Because Lupin is convinced the shoe is there. He lived all his life with this constant fear. The moment Lupin sniffs an uncertain situation he bolts in the other direction.

Like, I know some call Pettigrew the cowardly Maruader, but, really, it's been Lupin all along. (Peter is also a coward, but a very different flavor of coward).

And I think, later in book 7, when Lupin makes Harry Teddy's godfather, that's his way of apologizing for the past 16 years. He's apologizing to Harry for wanting to run away from Tonks, (and Harry, and everything else). This decision is a sort of 'thank you' to Harry for convincing him to stick around and not be a coward for once in his life, and it turned out good. It's also a decision that basically promises Harry Lupin isn't going to disappear from his life again. That, to me, was Lupin's character development and apology. It's him saying he's stopping with his guilt-ridden indecision and that he is settling down. He isn't running anymore and he wants Harry as part of his and his son's lives.

But, we didn't really get to see that happen, if he'll really stick to it or run away again because he died.

[withlovemark]

all of the moments that led me to you.

warning: steve's black eye (nothing new), violence, mentions of blood, a fight between steve x billy

pairing: steve x reader, light billy x reader (not really, this isn't a love triangle lol)

words: 4.5k+

summary: the title speaks for itself -- a series of moments with steve harrington

an: i was going to post everything as one fic but i kind of hit writer's block in the middle of year 1985 so i'll post this for now instead and hopefully gain some inspiration to continue :)

-

yr. 1984

i. the first meeting ft. dustin henderson

the words “code red” hitting your ears every five seconds, the stomping of feet running around the house, the back door opening and closing several times - babysitting is weird. not one kid is ever the same, some are easy-going, others can be a real pain in the ass. 

you hoped you got an easy kid today. one that just stays in front of the television, binging on crackers and occasionally asking for your help. obviously, you were wrong. 

if it wasn’t for the fact that it pays well while simultaneously allowing you to do some of your own studies and looking good on your college resume, you wouldn’t even be here.

but you are here. seated inside the henderson household. 

“hey y/n, can you please drive me to my friend mike’s house?,” dustin runs into the living room, an exasperated expression on his face, interrupting your reading. 

“are you okay?” you ask, worried about the kid you just met when his mother called an hour ago trailing on about how she saw your babysitting flyer some time back. and even though she knew that she had to book a date at least two days beforehand, she still asked if you could watch over her son. 

“just for today” she said, as she needed to look for her missing cat. her promise of double pay, convincing you to accept her request. 

“i’m fine, i just really need you to drive me to mike’s,” dustin says hurriedly, eyes hopeful that you wouldn’t ask anymore questions. 

“why?” you ask and the boy’s shoulder slumps, doing his best to not roll his eyes at your persistence. he’s obviously not used to  asking for permission. 

“i uhm forgot my book there and i really, really need it to study for my exam tomorrow,” he sends you a toothy grin, trying to convince you that that was all there is to it. you’re no fool. you notice the slight change in his voice, his fingers anxiously playing with his pockets, right leg slightly bouncing up and down - indications that he’s lying.

“you know your mom’s not paying for my gas, right?” you reason, not wanting to give in to his request and hoping you could just have a calm afternoon.

dustin sighs, his smile disappearing, “fine. i’ll just go behind your back and bike there and if i end up missing or in a ditch somewhere then it’ll be your fault,” he counters, personality quickly switching from the boy who said “please.” 

you sat there, flabbergasted, “are you…blackmailing me right now?” an eyebrow raising, you couldn’t believe how diabolical the curly headed boy is. 

“i’m not blackmailing you. i’m simply telling you what's going to happen if you don’t drive me,” he smiles, an almost devilish smile, tone hardening with every word and you truly do not know whether you’re terrified or impressed. 

letting out a quiet chuckle, you shake your head, “alright, c’mon kid,” you say, grabbing your car keys off the table, “but we’re going back as soon as you get it.”

——

you should’ve known not to trust him, finding yourself hurriedly getting into the back seat of the car of the last person you ever expected to interact with - steve harrington. 

pushing his forgotten red roses towards the other end of the car, you take your seat in the middle. 

“wh-what are you doing?” dustin turns from the passenger seat, facing you as steve takes in your presence, eyes on his rearview mirror, a confused expression evident on his face. 

“y/n l/n?,” he questions, finally remembering where he has seen you before, “you’re in nancy’s grade?,” he asks, more a question for himself than you. 

you nod, “steve harrington,” acknowledging his presence for the first time. 

 “why are you with dustin?” he wonders. he didn’t know much about you. only that you and nancy were sometimes studying in the library together. she’s told him before that you always get the top grades in class and she wanted to be around more motivated people like you. 

“i’m his babysitter and i’m coming with,” you simply answer his question, keeping the explanation short. it’s weird enough that you were inside the car of hawkin high’s famous “king.”

“since when did you have a babysitter dude,” steve reverts his attention back to dustin. 

“i'll explain later,” dustin reassures him quickly before turning back to you,  “and uhm, you don’t have to come, i have steve now,” he points to the guy in the driver seat like you don’t see him. 

from what you’ve heard about steve, you’re not sure you trust leaving the young boy with him. he’s known for being notorious, having bad company and overall, just a guy with the money, the looks and the popularity that somehow has every girl wanting him and every boy wanting to be him. you’re not sure how that guy can be trusted with kids.

subconsciously, you eye steve suspiciously, causing him to put two hands up in surrender “hey, i have no idea what’s happening either,” he defends, shrugging nonchalantly. 

snapping out of your daze, you focused your attention back on dustin, “look dustin, steve isn’t the one being paid to watch you right now,” you start to explain.

“hold on, you’re getting paid for this?” the older boy interrupted.

you ignore him, attention still on dustin, “if something were to happen to you, your mom would be looking for me. i’m responsible for you kid, i-,”

“fine! there’s no time,” he cuts you off, obviously in a rush. 

“you can come, just,” dustin contemplates, already regretting the words that slipped from his lips, “just don’t blame me for getting you into this thing.”

at that, steve snaps back to reality, “wait, wait, wait, if this ‘thing’ is about ‘that’ then she definitely can NOT come,” steve declared, his voice laced with a seriousness you didn’t think he could have. 

“well, are you going to drag her out of the car so she doesn’t find out about this thing?,” the younger boy replies, a sarcastic tone evident on his lips. 

“guys, i can hear you,” you piped in, eyes going back and forth between the two boys, having absolutely no clue what they’re referring to. 

“dustin, im not joking ok!,” steve ignores you, “we can’t tell people about this,” a serious expression appearing on his face, one you’ve never seen on him before, “we’ll get in trouble, you know that. besides, we shouldn’t involve anyone else into this anyway!,” he protested. 

he didn’t sound like the steve you would hear about at school. he sounded responsible, protective. he sounded like…a babysitter. 

“i know that steve, that’s why i told her to leave!,” dustin shouted. 

“well, she’s clearly still sitting in the backseat of my car!,” steve’s voice raises with every syllable. 

“can someone just explain what’s happening?” you try butting in, rolling your eyes, completely fading into the background as they continue their bickering.

“i don’t see YOU trying to do anything about it!,” dustin throws the argument back to steve, his patience on thin ice.

“she’s YOUR babysitter!,” steve points out yet again, ears turning red, veins popping and finally pushing the young boys’ limit. 

“fuCK!, we don’t have time for this steve, we really have to go NOW!” dustin shouts, losing his temper. 

steve, ready to reprimand him, before you decide you’ve had enough.

the series of “thing” and “this” has your mind spinning and your curiosity getting the best of you.  

“SHUT UP!” gaining the two boys’ attention, their bodies turning towards you, “both of you. shut. up.” you enunciate, loud and clear.  

“i promise i won’t blame you…or you,” glancing at the two boys, “for whatever the hell this thing is…just put your seatbelts on and drive,” ending their argument as you sat behind the passenger seat, clicking your own seatbelt into place. 

steve gives up, letting out a sigh, “fuck it,” before finally stepping on the gas. 

ii. the babysitters and an angry billy hargrove

you should have never picked up mrs. henderson’s call and you definitely shouldn’t have agreed to babysitting. what was the point of having your own terms and conditions when you didn’t even follow them yourself?

you should, however, have listened to steve and dustin when they told you to leave.

the day isn’t even over yet and you’re already questioning everything you knew. in a span of a couple of hours, you have been introduced to a world you couldn’t even imagine. having to pinch yourself a couple of times to make sure you weren’t just dreaming. 

everything was strange. 

you’ve spent the whole afternoon dropping meat, trying to bait something called a demogorgon. met steve’s spiked bat. got questioned regarding your relationship with billy hargrove from his very own red headed step-sister. came face to face with the said demogorgon, who, by the way, had demogorgon friends and were actually a pack of demodogs. almost died in a junkyard. walked in the dark woods just to end up in a creepy laboratory. felt the awkward tension between steve, nancy and jonathan. understood why will byers was called the zombie boy. stood behind steve while holding a random kitchen knife you grabbed from the byers’ kitchen — and to top it all off, encountered a little girl who flung the finally, very dead demogorgon through the window then unlocked the front door, all using only her mind. 

in conclusion, monsters and superpowers aren’t just a thing people read in their comic books.

“how are you holding up?” steve breaks you out of your thoughts, your eyes snapping to his voice. 

everyone else has left, leaving you the only two teenagers to act as the adults once again. 

the strangest thing of all of this was somehow, steve harrington went from being the popular jock to a guy whose simple presence can provide you comfort. everything you knew about him has changed. 

it’s amazing what shared trauma could do. 

you shoot him a small smile, “well, i definitely wasn’t expecting all this,” you look around the mess around you, “to be a part of that thing” you refer back to the boys’ banter, trying to keep the energy light despite everything that happened. 

he gives you a sheepish smile,  almost like he was sorry, regretting that he allowed you to be a part of this. 

“it’s not your fault. i chose to come,” you say, reading his thoughts and putting an end to them. 

“where did you put the demogorgon?” you continue, changing the subject, reassuring him that you were ok. at least, as much as anyone could be ok in this situation. 

“we stuffed it in the fridge,” he shakes his head, arms crossing, like he couldn't believe it himself, “‘for science’ dustin said,” steve quotes the younger boy with a grin.  

“right, of course, all the important things,” you chuckled, matching his grin as the two of you continued to clean the broken fragments that have scattered around the house. 

you thought it was over, that you could all just wait for everything else to unfold in peace but after a few minutes of silence, the kids were back on their feet, ready to "get off the bench.” you’re not sure how steve has the energy to continue arguing with them when you’re completely exhausted. 

the sound of an engine brings a silence to the house, max running towards the blinds recognizing the car that has made an appearance in the driveway, “shit, it’s billy, he can’t see me,” she says frantically, eyes meeting yours, a silent call for help. 

“i got it, just hide,” you hushly ordered, quickly making your way to the front porch. steve tried pulling you back but you were out the door before anyone could protest, resulting in him looking through the peephole. 

billy’s momentarily confused expression at your arrival wasn’t lost on you and if you were in his shoes you’d probably have the same one on, “hey sweetheart, what are you doing here?,” his husky voice taking up space in the cold, night air.

standing a couple steps away from him, his hand immediately finds a spot on your waist, pulling you closer. you placed a hand on his chest to keep some distance between the two of you, aware of the audience you have, “i’m babysitting a kid, his friend lives here,” you explain, smiling sweetly at him, hoping that he won’t suspect anything and leave as soon as he came. 

“have you seen my sister?” he asks breathily, face inching closer and closer to yours, a smirk on his lips. if it was any other day, you would have enjoyed his attention, maybe even be up for some fun. right now though, you just want him as far from max as possible. 

“no, why would she be here?,” feigning innocence, you hope he believes your lie. 

“she’s been hanging out with a couple of kids here, a bunch of bad influences,” he huffed, eyes quickly glancing around you before pulling you even closer.

“i haven’t seen her, she’s probably at the arcade, have you checked?,” you hope he doesn’t hear the shakiness in your voice. 

“you know what i like about you sweetheart?,” he muttered, placing a harsh kiss below your ear, his grip on your waist starting to dig into your skin. you know he has caught you. 

“you can’t lie for shit,” pulling you away from him, gaze darkening, he howled with laughter as you followed his line of vision, seeing four kids peeking through the window — one, with very bright red hair. 

frustrated curses slip from your lips as you shoot them an angry glance before billy grabs your wrist, dragging you right behind him as he pounded on the door, coming face to face with steve. 

“harrington, am i dreaming or is that you?,” he mocks, his hold on your wrist tightening. 

“yeah it’s me, don’t cream your pants,” steve rolls his eyes, hands on his hips like a disappointed mother. 

steve notices you wince under billy’s hold, “let her go man,” he orders, taking a step towards the wider boy. 

billy focuses his attention back on you, for a second you see a feeling of betrayal flash through his eyes but that was quickly replaced with a snarled expression, like he was completely disgusted with the thought of you. 

“is there a reason why you both are here alone?” his dark voice causes goosebumps to rise throughout your body. 

you’ve heard of how violent he can be but until right now, he has never shown that side to you. 

“what are you saying?,” you almost couldn’t recognize him anymore, breath hitching in your throat. 

“are you fucking him behind my back, sweetheart?,” billy’s voice grew menacing, “you know i don’t like to share,” he continued accusing you, his free hand coming in contact with your neck, forcing you to look at him. 

“dude, no. we’re babysitting,” steve answers for you and motioning towards the kids like it’s the most obvious answer in the world.  

“you’re hurting her,” he emphasized, “just let her go,” gently stepping closer, steve has his arms slowly reaching for you, hands up, a signal that he comes in peace. 

steve hopes billy will focus his attention on him instead, just wanting to get you out of there. he feels responsible for your safety and well-being. 

“gladly…” billy shot him an evil smirk, “you can’t trust bitches anyways right, harrington?,” he scowled, violently throwing you against the wall. 

your head makes a direct impact with the concrete, causing you to fall to the ground, a whimper slipping through your lips. you hear the kids' screams and a punch being thrown as you feel your vision slipping between darkness and light.  

you make out dustin running towards you and grabbing your hand, trying to get you to sit up. a couple of unsuccessful tries, he pleads “i’ll come back okay, just stay alive,” as he makes his way back to his friends. 

the proceeding events were all a blur and it felt like you were watching it through static television. one moment you can hear victorious cheers. the next moment, you hear something break and steve is suddenly lying on the floor a couple feet away from you, bloody faced and barely breathing. billy continuously throws his punches and the kids scream in fear. you try to get up but your body betrays you, only allowing you to reach out your arm towards the brown haired boy. 

somehow, the sound of the punches halted and billy fell to the ground. a sigh of relief escapes from your lips while the slow rise and fall of steve harrington’s chest becomes the last thing you see as you completely fade into the darkness.

—

the next time you open your eyes is to another set of screams, waking you up from your much needed slumber, if you can even call it that. you ignore the pounding in your head as you try to regain your vision. the first thing you feel are the strong arms in front of you, acting as your seatbelt, as you try to piece it all together. 

a couple minutes of confusion later, you finally recognize what’s happening, joining steve in full babysitter mode. the yelling of “no’s!,” and “stop the car’s!,” filling the tiny vehicle. 

“great, now they’re both awake!, i told you we should have just left them!,” mike cursed dustin annoyingly. 

“we were not going to leave them there, mike!,” dustin retorted, “c’mon guys i promised you’ll be cool, okay? just calm. down,” he softly ordered, like he was the babysitter and you two were his children. 

you scoff, “dustin, don’t fucking tell me to calm down!,” somehow fearing for your life now more than ever. 

“everyone just shut up, i’m trying to focus!,” max yells as lucas yells the directions in her ear. 

max makes a harsh turn causing a chorus of screams to rise. your hand immediately clutching around steve’s arm, face burrowing in his neck, seeking for protection, afraid of the crash that luckily never came. 

you’re not even too sure what happened the rest of the night but somehow you all made it out unscathed, besides the fact that you and steve are probably suffering matching concussions. 

iii. the heart-to-heart

in the tiny bathroom of the byer’s house, you find yourself standing in between steve harrington’s legs. his body feels familiar now, especially after you seeked comfort in each other in the dark tunnel, the two of you thinking it would be your last breaths. in some way, the miracle happened and the screeching demogorgons ran straight past the two of you, like you weren’t even there. 

you remember looking up at his golden, brown eyes. being that close to him, you noticed how beautiful they actually are and finally understood how he has charmed every girl at school. 

‘i guess it wouldn’t have been too bad dying in steve harrington’s arms.’ you thought to yourself.  

brushing those thoughts away, you bask in the moment of solitude within the commotion that is taking place behind the bathroom door. everyone reunited here, checking up on each other.

“does it hurt?” you ask him as you gently pat the alcohol covered cotton pad around his eye, cleaning up the bits of red that have stained them.

he slightly winces, hoping you didn’t notice, “i’m fine, this isn’t my first rodeo,” he assures, sending you a wink before completely regretting the tiny action, a frown briskly replacing his smile, causing small chuckles to slip between your lips. 

“you know, you should really stop getting into fights, i could’ve sworn you had a black eye just a year ago,” you remember it like it was yesterday - steve harrington walking the halls of hawkins high without his two minions for the first time, looking like he had fallen off his throne as the hushed whispers grew louder until they finally made its way throughout the school in a matter of minutes. 

you could tell he wasn’t at all the person he was trying to be and for a second, you saw yourself in him. you wanted to get to know that steve. the steve that may understand you. but that second didn’t last long. 

“so you were watchin me?” he teases, a smirk on his lips resulting in a playful shove and an eye roll from you.

gently grabbing his chin, you stare straight into his eyes, “of course i was. you’re steve harrington,” you remind him, “everyone watches you,” stating the facts before letting go and going back to removing all the dried up blood from his pretty face. 

he clears his throat, shrugging his shoulders, playing it cool, “yeah, i guess you’re right,” he says dumbfoundedly, making you laugh. 

“you’re ridiculous,” you quietly comment, a smile still on your lips. steve focuses on your light touches, trying not to wince every time you get near his open wounds. you notice his knuckles going white, gripping the toilet seat he was sitting on and ever so gently, hurried your actions. 

“there, all clean,” you softly declare as you slip from his space, turning around and putting all mrs. byer’s first aid kit back into place. he quietly thanks you, leaning his head back a bit to rest, his eyes shutting for a second. 

“thanks, by the way,” you break the silence “for protecting me earlier… with billy and all the upside down things,” you explain, looking at steve through the mirror. he nods, not entirely sure he’s deserving of your gratitude. you protected him as much as he protected you. 

“is he always that violent with you?” steve asks, an eyebrow going up. 

you immediately shake your head,  “no, he’s never laid a hand on me, i don’t know what came over him,” you say honestly. 

“why billy hargrove?” he asks, causing you to pause your actions, paying attention to him.

“what do you mean?” you reply, turning around to face him once again, your back against the tiny kitchen sink. 

“well, you didn’t leave dustin alone even though you just started babysitting him today, you care about having seatbelts on, you immediately covered up for max and just now, you took care of me when you should be taking care of yourself,” he points out, “you’re responsible and kind and you care and, well, billy is just a huge dick,” he finished, a hand flailing in the air as you stare at him, stunned at his observations.

you compose your thoughts for a while, not at all ready to have a heart to heart with steve harrington in a bathroom. 

instead, you throw the question back at him, “why nancy wheeler?” 

“you cannot possibly be comparing billy to nancy,” he replies quickly, a disapproving tone laced in his voice.

“i’m not,” you say defensively, “i’m just saying, she hurt you too but you’re still with her, you-”

“i-i don’t know if we’re actually still together,” he sadly replies, cutting you off, eyes dropping to the floor and you think back to the woods earlier that night — nancy emerging with jonathan right by her side. 

“but you still love her,” you continue, “even though she’s hurt you, you still love her,” you finish, trying to make a point.

“so, you’re in love with billy?” he concludes.

you scoff, wanting to say yes and finally drop the subject but the mere thought of agreeing with that sentence makes you visibly wince. 

“god no, i’ve been on a couple dates with the guy, it’s far from love,” earning an even more confused steve to face you. 

“i don’t know if it’s because i got my brains punched out or i really am just dumb but i completely lost you there,” he admit, a tiny smile on his lips and all you could do is sigh. 

heart to heart talk it is. 

“you’re not dumb, i just-” taking a deep breath, you prepare yourself.

“we all have our own reasons why were with someone,” you begin, “i’m just so tired of the perfect good girl image that has been imposed on me, it's like people just see me as that and nothing else,” as soon as you start, the dam breaks, flowing. 

you find yourself entrusting your deepest thoughts to him, “i can’t be fun because good girls aren’t supposed to be, i go to parties and people are confused that i'm there. you know, i even joined the cheerleading team so people can see me as something more? but all that does is fuel the assumption that i can do everything and still get shit done...that im not capable of mistakes and bad decisions. that i’ll turn out to be something great when really i’m just so damn scared all the time,” your voice breaks but before he could comment, you cleared your throat and continued. 

“i guess being with him makes people finally see me out of my stereotype” you confess, waiting for him to say something. the silence becomes overbearing and you feel completely vulnerable under his gaze. 

“oh,” steve responds, before bursting into laughter and you feel like a complete idiot, eyebrows shifting downward. god, you’re so ready to dramatically walk out of this bathroom and slam the door against his face but before you could do that, he notices.

“hey wait,” he says, gently grabbing your arm, asking you to stay as he arranges his thoughts.

“i’m sorry, i’m just relieved that you’re not actually in love with him because you deserve a lot better than billy hargrove,” he says charmingly, his cool facade still on display. 

“i know,” you agree, stopping yourself from rolling your eyes, “is that all?” you ask, still annoyed. 

“yeah,” steve starts, “i-no,” you give him time. you know that he’s having a war in his mind right now, the same one you just had. 

he avoids your gaze, thinking to himself, until finally, he puts his defenses down, “i understand you,” he confesses. 

“if it makes you feel better, it’s not at all greener on this side, i wished people looked at me less, i wish i didn’t have to go to all these parties just for people to respect me,” steve rattled on, feeling the weight fall off his shoulders with every word that falls off his lips, his facade disappearing bit by bit.

“i completely gave up on school because everyone has already expected me to fail and i started to believe them…it’s tiring having to pretend i’m this ‘king’ steve,” he quotes, “when really i am spiraling and have no fucking clue what i even want in life...i’ll probably just end up having a stupid job i hate and being as bitter as my father,” he sadly chuckles.  

“i’m just as scared as you,” he ends with a small smile, eyes meeting yours. he feels lighter after having said it all out loud for the first time and he can’t quite comprehend how he feels so safe sharing his saddest truths with you. 

but as you cast him a kind smile, the words “fuck stereotypes,” making its way to his ears, he can’t help but be thankful for the spilled truths and ajar doors. 

steve mirrors your expression and you’re glad you finally got to meet him. not “playboy” steve harrington and definitely not steve “the king” harrington. 

just steve. 

-

next: yr. 1985

an: a lil bridgerton reference there hehe ... thank you for reading! let me know if you're interested in reading the other moments i had planned :)

feel free to inspire me by dropping your thoughts, comments, suggestions, etc. here <3

[queenbrucewayne]

Happy Valentine’s?

A/n: so I’m kinda a sucker for little valentines fic, but work has been hell the past few days which is why this was late… oops Happy Valentine’s

The whole school was contagious with today. It was red and pink everywhere, cupcakes and flowers all around.

Glitter was scattered in every corner, the cookies and chocolates were passed around by every girl to every boy in the whole school. It was PDA central.

You hadn’t given the day much thought. Every year was like this, sometimes worse…

The teachers weren’t much help, they embraced the holiday, and it was all the week lead up too. Nothing could beat the celebration of love.

You were sat on top the school roof. It was one of the only places not covered in pink and hearts, and it was quiet. Most times you would come up here for lunch, especially since you made friends with one of the custodians who was nice enough to give you a spare key to get up here.

This time though you were finishing some math homework since the library was full of couples who apparently didn’t have enough shame to not throw themselves on each other.

It was peaceful…until it wasn’t.

Just when you thought you could finally have some peace to yourself, you heard the roof door swing open with a loud creak. A boy quickly came thru, looking to be a bit out of breath. He looked around a bit panicked, his eyes landing on yours. Both of you stared intently at each other, clearly not expecting the other to be there.

Just then you heard the sound of shoes clanking up the metal stairs, the boy looked panicked again.

Ah…now you understood.

“Hey.” You spoke up, “Up there.” Pointing to around the corner, he noticed a rusty looking ladder that was resting on its side. “Use that to get up to above me, they won’t notice, I promise.”

The boy hesitated for a moment, but when the sound echoed louder behind him it didn’t really give him much choice. He quickly ran by you to pick up the ladder. Resting it on the side of the wall you were leaning against, he made his way up, laying flat on his stomach and away from the edge.

You stood up and quickly set the ladder back down on its side, quickly taking position to how you were sitting before.

Just when you settled, about five girls busted out the roof top door. You pretended to keep doing your homework, ignoring the girls who were looking around confused.

“Hey! Did you see Bruce Wayne come this way?” One of the girls spoke up.

You glanced up from your book, “Who?”

As if you cursed at them they all gasped.

“Bruce Wayne! Hello?!? You can’t seriously not know who that is?” Another girl chimed in.

You did know who he was, but only by reputation. Both of you were in the same grade, and because this was a school you could only enter by scholarship or money, it was a small class. Based on these girls reaction you could only assume you had offended them by saying you didn’t know one of the biggest names to go here.

“I’m sorry, I don’t- I don’t really have time to focus on boys. Wish I could help.” Your tone was flat, just enough sass to make one of the girls roll her eyes at you.

“You’re kidding.”

You just shrugged, looking back down at your book, as if you were gonna start reading again.

One of the girls scoffed, not seeming too convinced. “Every girl knows him, billionaire hottie, a bit quiet but also so sweet. He’s a junior.”

Another girl quickly jumped in. “Don’t tell me you’re so engrossed in your studies, you seriously can’t know who the prince of Gotham is?”

You smirked, glancing back up at the group again. “Ohhh, so he’s a prince now? Wow… and yes, I study, it’s kinda what our parents pay so much money for.”

“Whatever… let’s go, we’re wasting time with her.” The first girl said, she clearly was trying to present herself as more intimidating then she actually was.

“You all have fun looking for your prince, although I doubt he’ll find it charming of a bunch of freshmen girls chasing after him like lost puppies.”

They all turned to you shocked for a moment.

“How did you know we were freshman?” One girl asked.

You rolled your eyes, looking back down to your math book again. “Your attitudes are a dead giveaway, but if you really wanna know? It’s the uniforms. No junior or senior still has freshly pressed uniforms, it kinda gets old after awhile, also-“ glancing back up again. “You’re supposed to wear the vests on friday, you’re all wearing the cardigans. That’s a common freshman mistake.” You smirked, seeing as all the girls quickly looked at one another to see you were right, nobody there was wearing the vest and now they all started to get flustered.

A couple of them scoffed and started to walk back downstairs, another girl looked embarrassed, and the last two just looked annoyed with you.

“Ugh, whatever. Like I said, you’re a waste of time.” And with that, the rest of the girls walked back downstairs to the school.

As soon as the door closed behind them, you got up to put the ladder back on its feet. The boy- Bruce, had started to climb down right away.

“Wow, I didn’t expect you to get them to leave so quick.” He praised.

You shrugged, sitting back down to your regular position. “They knew it would be a waste of time staying up here to talk to me, they would rather find you.”

He nodded in agreement, glancing down at his uniform he spoke up again. “I didn’t know about that vest rule on Fridays.”

“That’s because I made it up.” You stated.

Bruce eyes widened, “Wait…what?”

You laughed, looking up at him smug. “Yeah, there is absolutely no rule at the school that states we have to wear our vest on Fridays… I made it up to mess with them.”

Bruce face quickly turned from confused to a smile, and then he started busting out laughing. “Wow. I cant believe that! That’s great!”

Hmm he really had a contagious laugh.

“So…” you started slowly. “Prince of Gotham?” You grinned, watching as his expression now was irritated.

“Please don’t call me that.” He looked a bit pouty now.

“Your royal highness gonna get upset?”

He rolled his eyes. “I didn’t come up with the name… it’s just what they call me.”

“They?” You asked.

“The school… the whole city, I don’t know. Someone posted it in the newspaper and…. It just stuck.”

“Oh. So you really didn’t try calling yourself a prince on purpose.” You questioned

“Of course not!”

“So…” you continued. “Do you always have to run away from a bunch of girls on Valentine’s Day?”

Bruce sighed in frustration, seating himself across from you crisscross. “Every year, it’s always a new group of freshman who always act crazy, trying to give me chocolates, heart shaped cards, or maybe some balloons…. It’s exhausting.”

You smiled. “Sounds like you have it rough.”

He frowned. “Are you being sarcastic again?”

“Sorry. Force of habit.”

“So… Why are you up here?” He asked.

“Homework, It’s quiet.”

“That’s it?”

You started writing down more notes. “Yep.”

“You don’t have a valentines?”

You couldn’t help but laugh out, thinking he was joking. However when you looked up his expression looked confused.

“Oh, you’re serious…”

He scoffed. “Well, yeah. Isn’t this one of the school’s favorite holiday. You don’t celebrate?”

“I don’t know… it’s just not my thing I guess. I don’t really have a valentines.” You shrugged.

Bruce thought to himself for a moment. “And… what about the ones you’ve gotten?”

“Umm.” You shifted in your spot. You knew what he was asking wasn’t meant to be mean, he was genuinely curious. You brought your math book up trying to cover a bit of you face. “I don’t get those.”

“What? Really?” He looked genuinely shocked, and you really couldn’t figure out why.

“I don’t really care, it’s not really my thing.” You couldn’t see what kind of face he was making, but you knew he was probably taking pity on you.

When he didn’t say anything back, you peaked up from your math book. He was thinking intently about something, almost like he was trying to solve a problem to a test question. Suddenly he stood back up, dusting a bit of dirt off his uniform pants.

“I’ll be right back!” He quickly said, making a dash for the door.

You didn’t even have time to stop him before the door slammed shut behind him. Not sure what to do next, you went back to taking math notes.

He did say he would be back.

It was probably about 10 minutes later when you heard the echo of shoes getting louder to the roof door. Not bothering to look up when the door opened, already guessing who it was.

“Hey.” He spoke up.

Glancing up to respond, you stopped yourself by the scene in front of you.

He had a white rose in one hand and a plastic sack in the other. Sitting back down across from you, he started to pull out all the things from the bag. Two sodas, a couple of candy bars, and two bags of chips. The last thing he pulled out was a box of band-aids that had hello kitty on them.

Taking a soda and candy bar for himself, he handed you the rest, along with the rose.

You slowly reached out and took it from him, looking at him wide eyed now. Twisting the white rose in your hand you looked back up to him.

“What’s this for?”

“Valentine’s.” He said, casually opening the can of soda and taking a swig.

“Uhh, I’m confused… you-“

“I got you a valentines, the candy and soda from the vending machines, bags of chips from the cafeteria, and the white rose is from the school garden house I snapped off.” He explained, smiling brightly like he just achieved a task.

You looked at the band-aids. “And Hello Kitty?”

“It was the only thing that had hearts on it that wasn’t a school decoration.”

Examining the items and looking up to see his proud expression, you started to smile, a genuine happy smile for the first time ever on this holiday.

Bringing the rose up to your nose you inhaled, smelling the sweet scent that came off of it. It really did bring you joy. Glancing up, you saw Bruce had been starting at you the whole time. “Thank you.”

His eyes widened, looking a bit nervous. “Uh-I” he cleared his throat. “You’re welcome.” He finally got out.

Setting the rose aside, you cracked open the soda he got you, taking a sip. “Even if it was out of pity, it was still a cute gesture.”

Not saying anything for a moment, Bruce started to rotate his soda mindlessly. “It wasn’t out of pity…” he said softly, you almost didn’t catch it.

Just that one sentence, really made you happy. You didn’t know why, but that was exactly what you wanted to hear.

The rest of the time you were up there, you both discussed all kinds of stuff, finding out Bruce had more in common with you then you originally thought. It actually felt like you knew him as a person and not by just reputation.

When the finale bell rang, you couldn’t help but be disappointed. Bruce helped you with your stuff and you both made your way down to the school.

Getting to the bottom, all the hallways were packed with students trying to leave or show off what they got from their Valentine today.

“Let’s go out this way.” You reached out to grab Bruce’s hand and tugged him behind you, sneaking pass the crowd and even avoiding the group of girls you interacted with earlier.

Coming out the side door, you managed to avoid any extra attention. Slowing down your pace, you both started to walk away from the school building and towards one of the school gates. Already seeing parents or drivers here to pick up students.

“Wow, you really know the ins and outs of this school. I didn’t even know that side door existed.” Bruce praised, walking with you side by side now.

“Yeah… I try to find a lot of different places to hide.” You weren’t sure if that was a strange thing to do, but Bruce didn’t seem to be phased. He also hadn’t said anything about you still holding his hand, at some point his grip tightened as if he was worried you would let go.

He started to walk a bit ahead of you, leading you now to the open school gate and sidewalk. When you got there, a black shiny car started to slow down and pull up beside you and Bruce. Coming to a stop, an older man in a nice suit got out of the drivers seat and walked around to the back door, opening it he waited patiently not saying anything.

“That’s my ride.” Bruce said, waving to the gentleman who smiled and waved back.

You suddenly felt disappointed. This was probably the last you would get to hang out, especially since you two sat at opposite sides of the class room. Even though you hadn’t really known anything about him previously besides a name and a face, it was clear you were on completely opposite social standings.

However, your time with him was nice, and nothing like how you expected. A lot of the kids had backgrounds of family’s who were doctors, politicians, or CEO of big businesses, so most of their attitudes were very Im better then you. There was only a few who got here on scholarship, you included. So it only made sense someone as big of a name as Bruce Wayne wouldn’t ever take notice to you.

“So, same time Monday?”

You jumped at the sudden break of silence, not realizing you were stuck in your own head.

“What?”

Bruce smiled, “Monday? Roof top again?” When you didn’t respond right away he suddenly looked nervous. “Uhh, unless you don’t want hang out, I just realized I crashed one of your hiding spots… if you don’t wanna be bothered-“

“No!” You suddenly shouted, causing him to jump a bit. “I mean..” you cleared your throat, “yes, Monday, same spot. That would be fun…”

He suddenly smiled again. “Okay!” Letting go of your hand, he rushed over to his driver. He started saying something to him you couldn’t hear, but you could only assume it was about you since the man looked back to you and smiled big again.

Putting up your hand you waved nervously to him. Seeing Bruce turn to you now and giving a wave himself. He got into the car, his driver closing the door behind him. The man walked around to the drivers side, getting in and driving away.

He wanted to hangout… again. He expected to hangout again… He had fun.

You stood there for a moment, turning around to start your walk home. A smile started to creep it’s way onto your face… this was the best Valentine’s Day ever… you couldn’t wait for Monday.

Tag: @christianbalefanatic

[fourth-wing-stories]

Mirrorball - Part 3

Pairing: Ridoc x OC

Words: 1367

Summary: Ridoc is falling, and falling hard. And when will Sawyer start to read the room?

Masterlist

A/N: I´m so excited for you guys to see the next part xoxo And might change fancast but I do love him, just not a lot of gifs to work with off him. This is more like a filler off them and their relationship to give you a good feel of them.

Part 2 || Part 4

I also make ship imagines, check bio.

Tags: @sweetsugarcoffee

Requests are OPEN, check bio

The classroom at Basgiath was always filled with the sounds of scribbling quills and murmured discussions, but Ridoc had gotten used to another sound — the gentle whoosh of a warm breeze brushing past his ear. He grinned to himself, not even looking up from his notes. He knew exactly where it came from.

Iris was sitting a few rows back, pretending to be fully absorbed in her studies, but Ridoc knew better. Whenever the lectures dragged on too long, Iris couldn’t resist using her magic to stir things up. A warm breeze, subtle but noticeable, always floated past him, sending a shiver down his neck and making him turn his head. It was her way of saying, I'm here.

Today was no different. As soon as Ridoc began to relax into the dull drone of their professor’s voice, he felt it — that familiar breeze, like a caress on the back of his neck. He turned around, eyes narrowed playfully, searching for Iris. She didn’t look up, her face calm and composed as if she was focused entirely on the lesson. But Ridoc saw the tiny smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

He shook his head, amused. As he switch his focus back on the professor his quill fell to the floor. He blinked in surprise and leaned down to retrieve it. Violet beside him gave him a look, like get it together before Rhiannon yells at us kind of look. Just as he picked it up, another soft breeze swept by. He smiled, of course, he should have known. Iris.

Ridoc bit his lip to keep from laughing. He turned, catching her eye this time. She was barely suppressing a grin, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Her fingers twitched slightly under the desk — a clear giveaway that she was the one summoning the wind to mess with him. She practically glowed when she smiled like that. Damn he loved that smile.

"Really?" Ridoc mouthed, raising an eyebrow. But Iris just tilted her head innocently, feigning ignorance.

"Alright, you win," he mouthed back, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

But as soon as he bent down to pick up the pencils again, a stronger gust blew his quill right off his desk once more. Ridoc let out a low groan, but he couldn't stop laughing.

"Ridoc, shut it!" Rhiannon snapped from the other side of Violet. He did but the smile remained.

---

Later that day in Ridoc room

“Alright, spill,” Violet said casually, her legs stretched out in front of her. “What’s going on with you?”

Ridoc raised an eyebrow, playing dumb. “Just being my normal charming sexy self, what going on with you?” He said looking up from the book he was reading.

Violet closed the book she was holding and gave him a look, her eyes narrowing. “Don’t give me that. You’ve been acting different lately — ever since you started hanging around Iris.” She leaned forward slightly, her tone teasing. “You’ve got a little crush, don’t you?”

"A little jealous Violet?" he shot her a wink avoiding the question, but Violet wasn’t convinced. "I see the way you look at her."

Ridoc paused for a second before answering. “We’re just good friends. Sparring partners, study buddies, that’s all.” He said leaning back on the bed avoiding eye contact.

Violet wasn’t buying it. “Please. When the two of you are together you’re practically in your own little world.”

Ridoc hesitated for a moment, as if considering what to say. His usual bravado faltered slightly, and Violet caught the briefest glimpse of uncertainty in his eyes. “I don’t know,” he admitted after a long pause. “It’s different with her. She’s... different.”

Violet smirked, leaning back against the wall. “Yeah, different as in you like her.”

"Shut up, like you weren´t pining over our wingleader the whole of our first year" He laughed then shot her a half-hearted glare, but there was no real heat behind it. “It’s not that simple,” he muttered, his voice quieter now. “We just... get each other. I don’t know. It’s easy with her.”

Violet nodded thoughtfully she could tell this wasn’t just some casual flirtation for Ridoc. “She challenges you,” Violet said, her tone softening. “I get it. You like that.”

Ridoc didn’t respond, but the look in his eyes told Violet everything she needed to know. He was in deep, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

“Just don’t mess it up,” Violet added with a grin, nudging his shoulder. “I like Iris, I don´t wanna have to stop haning out with you if you fuck it up, cause I will choose her” She says jokingly elbowing him gently.

“Ey, why do you assume I´m gonna be the one most likely to fuck up” He says happy that their serious moment had passed.

Violet didn’t push any further. She knew Ridoc would figure it out in his own time. But she couldn’t help but feel a little amused by it all. It wasn’t often that Ridoc got caught off guard, especially by feelings, and seeing him wrestle with something as messy as love was oddly endearing.

---

It was one of those rare moments when everyone managed to gather around the same table in the dining hall, the sounds of clattering dishes and lively conversation filling the space. Iris, Ridoc, Rhiannon, Violet, Sawyer, Sloane, Imogen and Aaric were seated together, sharing stories from the day and exchanging playful banter.

But the atmosphere shifted when Sawyer, as blunt as ever, turned to Ridoc in the middle of a conversation and asked, "So Ridoc whatever happened with you and that guy from third year? I saw you two talking the other day."

Ridoc visibly stiffened, his usual laid-back demeanor faltering for just a second. His eyes flicked toward Iris before quickly looking away, his discomfort evident in the way he tensed. "Uh... nothing," Ridoc muttered, clearly caught off guard by the question. "Just... we were talking about training."

"Didn't look sound nothing. It-" Violet then stepped hard on Sawyers good leg. "Auch, wtf vi--" He stopped as soon as he met Violets death stare.

Iris tried to keep her face neutral, but her heart sank as she picked up on the unease in Ridoc’s voice, he was lying, something had happened between him and the third year. She didn’t want to sit here and listen to whatever it was Ridoc didn’t want to admit, especially with the strange weight between them still hanging in the air.

Iris couldn’t sit there any longer, feeling like the tension between them was becoming more visible to everyone at the table.

"I actually forgot I have some things to take care of," Iris said quickly, forcing a small smile as she stood up from the table. "I’ll catch up with you guys later."

The group glanced at her, some surprised by the sudden departure. As Iris left Rhiannon shot a pointed look at Sawyer and then, without warning, elbowed him sharply in the ribs. "Way to go, Sawyer," she hissed under her breath, shaking her head. "Read the room."

Sawyer blinked, clearly confused. "What? What did I say?"

"Seriously?" Violet whispered back, rolling her eyes. "You’ve got no tact sometimes, you know that?"

Ridoc remained silent, staring at his plate, his mind clearly elsewhere. As Iris walked out of the hall, he fought the urge to go after her, torn between his feelings and the growing weight of his own fears. He knew this wasn’t just about a stupid misunderstanding—it was about everything that had been simmering between them for so long. But admitting it out loud, especially in front of everyone? He wasn’t ready for that.

Rhiannon sighed, exchanging a glance with Violet. "Honestly, men are idiots," she muttered.

"Agreed," Violet said with a small smirk, though her eyes lingered on Ridoc, sensing that something much deeper was going on beneath the surface.

As Iris left the dining hall, her chest tightened with frustration and confusion. She didn’t know what was happening between her and Ridoc, but she knew one thing—she was not gonna be some second choice or wait around for Ridoc if he didn't feel the same way. She should have known. She almost laugh at her own stupidity. Ridoc flirts with everyone. But two can play that game.

[intricatechaosofyou]

Can This Be a Real Thing, Can It?

Pairing: Fives x f!reader

Fandom: The Clone Wars; Star Wars

Summary: During a rotation on a snowy planet, Fives’ blanket cocoon is infiltrated. Turns out, it’s the newest mechanic who wants to show him something beautiful and convince him the cold isn’t that bad after all.

Using the prompt: “Want‬‭ to‬‭ see‬‭ something‬‭ amazing?”‬‭ (reader takes clone to see Aurora Borealis)

Also, the title is a Taylor Swift reference!

Warnings: n/a

Author’s note: I had the pleasure of writing for @urfriendlyneighbornightfury. I think this is the second fic I’ve written for you, but I hope you enjoy this one! Your prompt made me think of Snow on the Beach by Taylor Swift! Happy holidays and I hope your end of 2024 is fantastic! And of course, thank you to @ghostofskywalker / @cloneficgiftexchange for hosting this exchange! Second annual life day exchange in the books!

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Fives hated the snow just as much as Anakin. After being created on Kamino and suffering through endless rotations of nothing but rain, the clone hated any kind of precipitation but especially the cold kind.

His brothers, namely Hardcase and Jesse, found a childlike wonder in the snow. Kix and Echo, on the other hand, saw it as a perfect opportunity to catch up on some reading on the holopad. No matter what their fancy was, the white powder never failed to bring a grin to the faces of the 501st. Except for Fives.

While his other brothers in the 501st enjoyed snowball fights and warm beverages they hardly ever indulged in on their few hours of downtime, Fives uncharacteristically preferred to stay in their bunks, buried under the thin regiment blankets and a frown on his face.

So when you had asked Rex where the Arc trooper was, you were confused when he laughed at you like you were left out of a huge secret.

“He’s where he always is when we’re on these planets,” Rex said, a husky laugh bubbling out of him.

“What do you mean?”

“Fives hates the cold,” Jesse chimed in.

You tilted your head, brows furrowing at the information. This was news to you. Sure, you hadn’t been with General Skywalker and the 501st for long, but it this was common knowledge, why didn’t anyone tell you?

“He hates the cold?”

Jesse and Rex nodded, glancing at each other like they were exchanging a secret. And you hated not being in on it.

Fives had been a longtime friend crush and the fact everyone seemed to know about his distaste for the cold except you left a bitter taste in your mouth—worse than the one the rations gave you.

“So where is he?” You asked.

Another pointed look was exchanged between the two clones before Jesse answered you. “Check his barracks. Probably under the pile of blankets.”

You nodded and gave a nod to the two men before setting off on your mission to find Fives.

And lo and behold, when the door to his barracks slid open there was a pile of blankets on his bed.

A soft smile found its way onto your face and a warmth spread in your chest despite the cold of the base.

“Well, doesn’t this look comfy?” You questioned in an exaggerated voice as you stepped into the room. “I could take a nap in this big pile of blankets.”

You watched, but there wasn’t a movement from the pile so you continued your ploit.

Faking a yawn, you stretched out before unceremoniously flopping right onto the pile of blankets and heard it scream.

“Gah! Hey, get off!”

You laughed as the pile of blankets squirmed underneath you, and as the fuzzy blue one on top was pulled back, you finally saw the face of the man you were searching for, his characteristic goatee and tattoo making you grin.

“Gotcha,” you grinned.

“What’re you doing here?” He asked.

Your reply was simply a little shrug. “I was looking for you and a little Captain told me that I might find you here.”

An uncharacteristic groan came from Fives. Usually he was the most cheerful person in the room, but at the moment, he was even grumpier than General Windu.

“Why the frown? You’re grumpier than a wampa.”

Another groan echoed through the room. “Didn’t Rex tell you? I-“

“Hate the cold, yes, yes,” you interrupted. “But c'mon, don’t you want to see something amazing?”

Fives simply huffed and pulled the blankets over his head again, nearly knocking you off his little cocoon in the process.

“Fivessss,” you whined, getting up and standing next to his bunk. “You’ll love it! Please?”

“No.”

Fives was stubborn but you weren’t going down without a fight. With a swift tug, you pulled the pile of blankets off of him.

The man gasped and reached out to try to grab the fuzzy garments back, but you dragged them out of his reach.

“Nuh-uh. C’mon, Fives. Let me show you something!”

With a groan, Fives ran his hand over his face. “Then I get the blankets back?”

You nodded, teasingly waving the blankets in your hand.

“Fine,” Fives agreed begrudgingly. “Let me grab my coat.”

You grinned victoriously, tossing the blankets back in the bed as Fives gathered his coat and gloves.

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself,” Fives scolded.

You simply laughed and grabbed his arm, tugging him out of the barracks and towards the bay doors.

“I’m not gonna like this,” Fives protested as you neared the snowy entrance.

“You’re gonna love it.”

“I doubt it,” he mumbled under his breath as you finally pulled him outside into the cold night.

Your breath froze in the air as you exhaled, making your eyes light up in excitement. Keeping a tight grip on Fives’ arm, you brought him to a nearby hill, ignoring his protests and complaints.

“Look,” you instructed, nodding to the sky.

With slight reluctance, Fives looked out to the horizon, and he gasped.

The sky was lit up in brilliant green and blues and purples. The colors merged together and swirled across in effortless waves that entranced the clone.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, scared to speak as if the sparkling colors and twinkling stars in front of him would suddenly vanish.

“What- what is it?”

“The aurora borealis. It’s caused by something or other with the atmosphere,” you whispered, eyes fixated on Fives as he stared at the sky.

“It’s beautiful, cyare, absolutely beautiful.”

A swell of pride filled your chest. “I knew you’d like it.”

“Thank you.”

“Cold isn’t so bad anymore, is it?”

And for the first time that night, a small chuckle left Fives’ mouth and he felt like himself again. “No, not at all.”

With a smile, you wrapped your arm around the man’s middle and leaned into him as you stared at the sky, the cold forgotten for a single moment the two of you got to share.

[prythiansprincess]

kiss with a fist | chapter six.

home | chapters | playlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: w.i.t.c.h. - devon cole

author's note: some cute soft fluff cause i'm in a tender mood.

In all your years at Hogwarts, you could count the amount of times you’ve attended a quidditch game on one hand and you wouldn't even need to utilize all of your fingers. Needless to say, you weren’t really into the rowdiness and belligerence of sporting events, but a bargain was a bargain. You were just glad to have Luna with you. Even if it meant enduring Pansy Parkinson’s presence. 

“Be nice,” Luna warned as you approached the stands. 

“I won’t bite if she doesn’t,” you murmured back. 

Luna nodded, knowing that it was the closest thing to an agreement she was ever going to get out of you. Despite your surliness, your friend seemed to brighten the minute she spotted Pansy. In a sea of blue and gold, the dark haired witch was the only one clad in green and silver. Your housemates kept exchanging wary glances at the Slytherin in their midst, but they were wise enough to keep their mouths shut. 

You watched quietly as Pansy and Luna exchanged pleasantries. While your friend was generally a bubbly person, she seemed extra giddy as she spoke. There was something about the way that she softened that convinced you to ease up on the scowls. It must have been contagious, because Pansy actually smiled and it wasn’t a derisive sneer or a smug smirk, but a genuine smile. You didn’t even know the witch was capable of it. 

Finally, she seemed to take stock of your presence. The dark haired girl jutted her chin out proudly, her aristocratic features schooled into forced neutrality. It occurred to you that Pansy probably received a similar warning to attempt decency. 

“Y/N,” she said. 

“Pansy,” you replied. 

The two of you eyed each other. Sizing up your opponent. The eagle versus the snake, claws against teeth. The staredown was purely psychological warfare. 

You squinted. Hurt her and I’ll maim you. 

The silent warning didn’t seem to offend Pansy. Instead, she gave a subtle nod of her chin and made way for you and Luna to sit. You settled in, trying not to peer down at the drop. Heights had never really been your thing. 

Pansy observed you curiously as Luna patted your arm. “Y/N’s not a big fan of heights.” 

“Oh?” Parkinson asked. 

“I generally prefer solid ground. It reduces the chances of me falling and breaking my neck.” The corner of Pansy’s mouth quirked. “What about you, Parkinson? Are you keen on flying?” 

“A bit.” 

Luna brightened. “She’s being modest. Pansy here is a very talented flyer. She’s got an Abraxan named Circe.”

“The most powerful witch to ever live,” you noted. “She used to turn men into swine.” 

“A lost art, really.” 

You smirked. “The classic femme fatale. A personification of the dangers of femininity. They always paint powerful women in a terrible light, don’t they?” 

“Perhaps it makes the men feel better about their own inadequacies.” 

“We’re always making men feel better about their inadequacies,” you answered thoughtfully. “Convenient that the myths fail to mention that Circe was one of the first pharmakis. Modern magic would not be what it is without her extensive knowledge of herbs and plants and yet she’s rarely credited in any potions books we read.”

Pansy nodded, eyeing you in amusement. “I can see why Nott has taken a liking to you.” 

You turned to Luna who immediately shook her head. Pansy laughed. “Don’t worry, Lovegood didn’t tell me a thing. She didn’t have to. Theodore never stops talking about you, you know.” 

There was no hiding the flush that crept up to your cheeks. “We’re both vying for the top spot in Slughorn’s class. I assume he has a lot to say about his competition.” 

“It’s more than that,” Pansy said. “I’ve known Theodore since birth and I’ve never seen him put this much effort into anything. He’s always been naturally talented at potions, given his mum’s background, but you challenge him. For the first time in a long time, he’s found someone who’s actually up to par. I, for one, enjoy watching you put him in his place.” 

You smiled. “I quite enjoy it too.” 

Luna looked at you, then at Pansy before a huge grin graced her lips. It was obvious that she was pleased at the sight of her best friend and her…potential more-than-friend getting along.

The game started not long after. Your comprehension of the rules were rudimentary at best, but Luna made sure to explain as best as she could. From what you gathered, there were four positions: seeker, beater, chaser, and keeper. The chasers attempted to score as many goals as they could by throwing the quaffle through the posts, which the keepers guarded. The beaters used the bludgers to disrupt the other players. The seeker, on the other hand, needed to catch the golden snitch. All while floating on a broom hundreds of feet in the air. 

This match, Pansy explained, had been anticipated to be the most brutal of the season. The enmity between the Gryffindors and the Slytherins translated very clearly on the field. While there had always been a divide of support between the other houses, you could tell that the majority of the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff stands were cheering for the Gryffindors. 

You wondered how that made the Slytherins feel. Three houses against one. After the war, Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic droned on and on about the importance of unity and reconciliation. Professor Slughorn even delivered a speech during your first potions class, but the disparity between words and actions were painfully obvious. 

The rest of the school still mistrusted the Slytherins. If any of them cared, you wouldn’t have been able to tell. Especially not as they played. The quidditch team was deadly. You watched as green and silver robes whizzed past, familiar names sprawled on the jerseys. Malfoy, Zabini, Riddle, Berkshire, Warrington, Rosier, and Nott. 

Theo winked as he flew past your portion of the stands. You rolled your eyes, but held your breath as he careened towards one of the goal posts. Ron Weasley stood guard, squinting suspiciously at Theo. The flash of the quaffle was too fast for your eyes to follow, but it sliced the air all the same, slipping through an opening above Ron’s shoulder. The redhead cursed as Theo gave him a mocking bow. 

Pansy was the lone witch in your section to cheer for the Slytherins. Luna joined her in solidarity when the crowd grew quiet. Suspicious glances were cast in your direction, which you rebuffed with a menacing glare. They all found something else to look at rather quickly. 

Displeasure rippled over the crowd as the Slytherins kept scoring. Theo was an unstoppable force. Warrington and Riddle flanked him at each side, throwing bludgers at anyone who attempted to thwart his efforts. The other two chasers, Berkshire and Zabini, circled around them in an aerial formation that confused the opposing team. The Gryffindors grew increasingly frustrated when Evangeline Rosier kept rebuffing their attempts to score. 

Both teams played well, but the Slytherins were ruthless, tactical, and efficient. They used the opposing team’s weaknesses against them. The Gryffindors tended to be over reactive and Theo used it to his advantage. He baited them into making rash plays, which left openings for him and the other chasers to exploit. 

By the end of the game, it was Berkshire who scored the winning goal. The discrepancy between the cheers and booing was insurmountable, but Pansy didn’t seem to care. She cheered for the team louder than anyone. As the win was formally announced, you heard murmurs coming from below you. 

“Stupid Death Eater bitch.” 

From the corner of your eye, you saw Pansy tense. Luna’s mouth hung agape as she wheeled around to identify the foul mouthed culprit. You were quicker. 

“What did you just say?” you asked in a deathly quiet voice.

The conversations around you stopped as you faced Romilda Vane. The smug faced witch crossed her arms, her scarlet and gold scarf billowing in the wind as she looked up at the three of you. 

“You heard me,” Romilda said in a haughty voice. “Her father was one of the Dark Lord’s staunchest supporters. As were the Malfoys and Notts. Not to mention Riddle. How he was allowed back at school is a mystery to me. They should all be in Azkaban.” 

Your ears began to ring. The crowd parted as you descended the bleachers, bringing you face to face with Romilda. “I wasn’t aware that you’d recently earned a place in the Wizengamot. For all your prattling, you’d think you were the Chief Warlock.” 

She cowered under your glare, but doubled down as she looked towards her friends. “I’m only saying what everyone else is thinking. As far as I’m concerned, the Slytherins should be punished for their crimes.” 

“I hardly think you’re speaking from any moral high ground, Romilda. Didn’t you try to dose Potter with Amortentia in sixth year?”

Romilda reddened as she sputtered nonsense. The students around you snickered, but all you could hear was the rush of blood in your ears. You clenched your fists so tightly that your nails dug painfully into your palms. If you hadn’t, you might’ve punched that stupid smirk right off of her face. 

But you knew that physical violence was not the answer. There were far more strategic ways to land a blow and you were an expert in this type of warfare. 

“I suppose Harry’s lucky that your potion making is about as incompetent as your critical thinking skills. Now move before I make you.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing getting tangled up with all those snakes. They’ll sink their teeth into your back the second you turn it.” 

“One of them is worth ten of you. At least the Slytherins fought to defend the castle instead of running off like a coward. They may have teeth, but at least they know how to use them. You’re all roar and no bite.” 

“You’re a bitch, Y/N.” 

You reared back, baring your teeth. “Oh you have no idea, Vane. But I’d be glad to demonstrate.” 

Romilda held her ground. For a split second, you weighed the consequences of harming a fellow student versus the satisfaction of pummeling Romilda to the ground. Luckily for the idiotic Gryffindor, Luna gently gripped you by the elbow. 

“It’s not worth it, Y/N.” 

You looked at your friend who wore an expression of concern. Beside her, Pansy didn’t say a word. She was utterly silent, almost resigned like she encountered this treatment on a daily basis. We all pay the price, Theo had said. 

Without another word, you nodded and bulldozed through Romilda as you exited the stands. It was only when the three of you reached the ground when you finally realized that you were shaking from anger. 

“Are you alright, Pans?” Luna asked, clasping Parkinson’s hand. 

Pansy shrugged. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me, Luna. If I let the opinion of an airheaded twat affect my day, I’d never have a good one again.” 

“Are you sure—” Luna fretted. 

Pansy smiled gently and squeezed her hand in assurance. “Truly, I’m alright. The only thing upsetting me at the moment is that I’ve left my scarf up there running from those hags. Would you mind getting it for me, Lu?” 

Your friend still looked worried, but she nodded and made the trek back up. You and Pansy stood in silence, watching as the last of the crowd trickled out of the stands. 

“Vane had no right to say that,” you said. It came out harsher than you expected. 

“At least she had the gall to say it to my face,” Parkinson stated with a shrug. “I don’t know if that makes her brave or stupid.” 

“Gryffindors often have trouble making the distinction.” 

The dark haired witch laughed. “You didn’t have to do that, you know. As moronic as she is, Vane is right. She was only voicing the opinion of the masses."

“But you fought in the final battle. I saw you rallying the others against the Death Eaters. Romilda wasn’t even there. She didn’t even fight.”

Pansy sighed. “A lot of good that did. I had to watch my friends duel against their own parents and yet this entire school still mistrusts us. I suppose I can’t blame them. The majority of the Dark Lord’s followers were produced by our house.”

“Not all Slytherins are bad. The world isn’t so black and white,” you said adamantly. “Most of us operate in the gray areas, whether we admit it or not. The only difference is that you lot don’t try to hide it.” 

“Yes, but a snake is a snake. Even when we shed our skin, they still see deception when they look at us.” 

“And you’re willing to just accept that?” 

Parkinson gave you a pointed look. What choice did she have? What choice did any of them have? 

After a beat of silence, you cleared your throat. “Are you sure you’re alright? Luna’s worried.” 

“I assure you, being villainized isn’t anything new to me. I suppose that’s why I named my horse after Circe," Pansy mused thoughtfully. "It’s better for them to believe that I’m some sort of evil sorceress than to realize that I am more shackled by my circumstances than I could ever be at Azkaban. My family name is a collar around my neck, waiting to choke me at any moment, but they’re so blinded by their own misconceptions that all they see are my teeth. I prefer it that way.”

“Oderint dum metuant.”

"Let them hate, as long as they fear." A faint smile bloomed on Pansy’s lips. "That’s awfully Slytherin of you to say. Are you sure you’re in the right house, Y/N?”

You chuckled. A beat of silence followed as understanding passed between you. Perhaps you had more in common with Pansy Parkinson than you thought. 

When Luna returned, the two of them tried to convince you to join them at the common room party, but you declined. You weren’t really in the mood to be around people. 

“You two go ahead. I’ll catch up later.” 

As the sun set over the school grounds, you found yourself at the Black Lake. Dusk tinged the horizon with pink and purple and the fluffy white clouds hung low enough to kiss the dark water. You settled at the end of the dock and dipped your toes into the lake, watching as the motion made ripples across the surface. Maybe it was unwise to linger here given that the lake was home to the merpeople and the giant squid, but they would be far in the depths and you were honestly too knackered to care. 

Sighing, you pulled out a silver flask from your robes. You had initially brought it for the after party, but it would’ve been a shame to let the firewhisky go to waste. 

“Illegal contraband?” A familiar voice teased just as the wood gave way beside you. Theo bumped his shoulder against yours as he sat. “I didn’t know you had it in you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, well maybe your idiotic tendencies are rubbing off on me.” 

“I’d like to rub more than just my tendencies on you.” 

You rolled your eyes and handed him the flask. “Just fucking drink, Theodore.” 

He grinned before taking a swig. You chuckled at the face he made from the burn of the Ogden’s. “That is straight up liquor," Theo remarked through his coughing fit. "You're out of control, diavolina. Should I be concerned?”

“We’re celebrating,” you said. “At least you should be. That was quite a win out there. I didn’t expect you to be so….efficient.” 

“Careful, Y/N. That was almost a compliment.” 

You shrugged. “To be fair, I haven’t been to a game in years. You could’ve been absolutely rubbish and I’d still think it was a feat that you managed to stay seated on that broom.” 

“Well, it is a pretty important component of quidditch. Did you at least attempt to enjoy yourself?” 

“It was a brutal game. There’s a lot more strategy and planning that goes into quidditch than I initially thought. It’s like chess, but you’re allowed to hit people. I had a blast.” 

Theo chuckled. “I should’ve known you’d get a kick out of all that violence.” 

Warmth spread through your body as you took another swig. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating your win at the party?” 

His fingers brushed yours as you handed the flask back to him. “I’m where I want to be.” 

This time, you weren’t sure if it was the firewhisky or Theo’s presence making you flush. The two of you kept drinking in silence as you peered up at the sky. Back home in London, you never would’ve been able to see the stars this clearly. They glittered in the night sky like tiny diamonds etched through the darkness. 

“I heard about what happened earlier,” Theo said after a moment. 

You weren’t surprised. Word traveled fast around this school. “Luna told you?” 

“No. Pansy did.” He shifted, turning over to look at you. Like a moth drawn to a flame, you did too. “You did a good thing, Y/N. You stood up for Pansy. I can’t thank you enough.” 

“I was only doing what anyone else would’ve done.” 

“No. You weren’t.” Theo set the flask down. “No one else would’ve come to her defense. Pansy, she’s the strongest one out of all of us. Draco, Mattheo, and I, we can always resort to punches when we’re insulted, but Pansy doesn’t have that option. She just has to sit there and take it. It means a lot that someone spoke up for her.”

“I did the bare minimum.”

“It still meant a lot.” 

“There’s no need to thank me for—”

Theo sighed in exasperation. “For Salazar’s sake, will you just take my gratitude without arguing?”

You bit back a smile. “Fine. I acknowledge your gratitude.” 

You downed the rest of the flask as Theo lit a cigarette. The flame from that curious Zippo flickered in the darkness as smoke filled the air.

“So,” Theo started, taking a deep inhale. “Are you ready for the slug club dinner next week? I’m not even invited to the bloody thing and yet I still know every detail thanks to McLaggen’s incessant prattling. What a twat.” 

“Cormac is kind of a twat, isn’t he?” you asked, giggling as the alcohol started taking its effect. “I heard that he kisses like a fork tongued lizard.” 

Theo’s eyes flashed. “You better not know that firsthand.” 

You wrinkled your nose. “I wouldn’t go near McLaggen’s mouth with a ten foot broom.” 

“Good. I can rest easy that you won’t be replacing me with a reptilian snogger.”

“You can rest easy either way. I’m not going to that dinner.” 

Theo paused, the cigarette hanging haphazardly from between his lips. “What do you mean you’re not going?” 

“It’s a pretty straightforward sentence, Nott. I will not be attending Professor Slughorn’s ridiculous dinner.” 

“You have to go,” he declared firmly. 

“I’m confused. Do you want me to snog the lizard or not?” 

Theo frowned. “Do not snog McLaggen unless you want me to turn him into an actual reptile.” He exhaled and smoke curled around his lips. “You can’t miss that dinner.”

“I have no interest in attending.” 

He stared at you, his gaze fixed with determination. “Is this about what Slughorn said the other day?” 

You picked at your fingers, avoiding his eyes. “It’s probably going to be boring, anyways. Just a pissing contest for us to compare our grades and achievements like we’re puppets on a string.” 

“You should still go.” 

“Why?” you asked, a bit irritated that Theo was pushing for this so hard. You would’ve thought that he of all people would understand your choice. “Why would I subject myself to be part of something that judges people based on prejudice rather than merit?”

Theo’s expression softened. “Because it’ll raise your chances of joining the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers. That’s your dream, isn’t it?”

You reeled back in surprise. “How do you know about that?” 

He rolled his eyes. “You only talk about it a thousand times a day.” Theo raised his brow in challenge. “Slughorn’s one of the most influential members. If you go to the dinner, it might solidify a formal invitation.” 

Theo was right. You didn’t want him to be, but he was right. Under any other circumstance, you would’ve sabotaged and plotted and schemed for a way in. This was an opportunity to distinguish yourself from your fellow classmates, so why were you hesitating?

You knew why. You were looking right at him.

“I’ll drag you there myself if I have to,” Theo declared. 

You sighed. There was no way he was going to let this go. “Fine, I’ll think about it.” 

Theo smiled triumphantly. You kicked at the water, sending a wave across the still lake. “You know, if Slughorn knew that you were a Marchesi, he’d probably fall all over himself to recruit you. Hell, anyone would. You’re practically guaranteed a place at the Society, too.”

Theo shrugged nonchalantly. “Where would the fun be in that?” 

“I’m serious, Nott. It could open up doors for you.”

He sighed. “That’s exactly why I’ve kept the knowledge to myself. I’m tired of everyone judging me based on my family, good or bad. I want to accomplish something that’s solely mine. Not Nott, not Marchesi. Just Theo.”

“That’s uncharacteristically noble of you.”

“I told you, I’m not just a pretty face. I’m also rich, witty, intelligent, athletic, etc. Honestly, the list goes on and on.”

You snorted. “Just don’t expect humble to be part of that little myriad, Theo.”

Theo paused. The moment of silence swelled between you like an errant wave. Then, a huge smile broke out on his face. 

“What?” you asked. 

“You called me Theo.”

“Well, that is your name. Has quidditch concussed you so severely that you’ve forgotten?

He responded with an eye roll. “I’m perfectly lucid, thank you very much. Well, besides the firewhisky. I’m a little bit sloshed from that, but not sloshed enough to not notice you call me by my actual name. Not Theodore, not Nott, not twat, not oh god—”

“I get it, Theo.”

His grin grew wider. “There it is again. Theo.”

“It’s just a name, nothing special.”

“It is when you’re the one saying it.” 

“Oh, shut up.”

The satisfied smirk on his face refused to budge even as the sky grew darker. The two of you sprawled out on the dock, staring up at the sky and enjoying the comfortable silence. Theo toyed with his lighter, rubbing his thumb over the spark wheel, which caused the flame to flicker on and off.

You stared at the lighter, vision blurring from the alcohol. “Why do you have that thing?”

“I told you, Mattheo’s a little thief.” 

“No, I mean I know the reason. But I just can’t figure out why.” 

Theo scrunched his brows in confusion. “Are you sure you’re not the one concussed?” 

“Would a concussed person be able to do this?”

You propped yourself up on your elbows and slightly flipped to the side. The action made your hair come loose. 

“What in Merlin’s name am I supposed to be looking at right now?” 

“I’m obviously doing a cartwheel,” you deadpanned. “Aren’t I?” 

Theo chuckled. “You are one drunk witch, Y/N.” 

“M’not drunk.” He raised a brow. “Fine, maybe I’m a tiny bit bevved, but you’re the one avoiding my question.”

“Sorry,” Theo said rather unapologetically. “I’m a bit distracted at the moment.” 

“By what?” 

“Your hair,” he murmured softly. Theo reached out and toyed with a loose strand, twisting a long lock between his fingers. He swallowed thickly, his voice lower and huskier than it was a minute ago. “You should wear it down more often.” 

“It’s a hassle.” 

He swept it over your shoulder, knuckles brushing your cheek. “It’s beautiful.” 

Your cheeks warmed. Whether from the alcohol or his touch, you couldn’t differentiate. “Stop deflecting, Nott.” 

Theo rolled his eyes. “Relentless witch. Can’t you see I’m trying to have a moment here?” 

You gave him a pointed look. Theo sighed before handing over his lighter. Up close, you could see that the silver was worn and dented. It looked much older than you initially thought. To your surprise, Theo silently waved his wand and the lighter transformed into a heart shaped locket. 

“When my nonna gave me the grimoire, it came with this. It was Alessandra’s old locket. She treasured it more than the grimoire itself.” 

“What’s so special about it?” 

“Open it.” 

Your fingers stilled. “Are you sure?”

“Don’t get shy now, diavolina. You wanted to know and now I’m telling you.” 

You hesitated for a moment before curiosity got the best of you. The locket popped open easily. Inside was a picture of a dark haired woman standing next to a man with watercolor eyes and thick brown curls. The couple looked at each other with love and adoration in their eyes. 

“That’s Alessandra, obviously. The man was Damiano, her closest friend, the mad scientist of the village, and the cleverest muggle she’d ever met. He helped author the grimoire.” 

“I never knew that Alessandra had help with her inventions.” 

Theo nodded. “As my family intended. They didn’t approve of her relationship with Damiano, but she didn’t care. They fell madly in love and eventually married.” 

“How is it possible that no one knew about him?”

“Damiano was born with a unique illness that was incurable even with magic. Alessandra poured years of her life into finding a cure, but in the end he succumbed to it. She passed away only a year after him. My nonna said that she died of a broken heart.” Theo took the chain and traced his fingers over the picture. “They left behind two young children who were eventually raised by Alessandra’s parents. Their son and daughter grew up not knowing who their father was. The Marchesis did everything in their power to keep the knowledge to themselves. They didn’t want anyone to know that their great bloodline was tainted by a muggle.” 

Theo bowed his head in shame. He avoided your gaze, choosing to look out at the Black Lake instead. “There it is. The secret that my family has guarded for centuries. The sad part is that some of them still hold those bigoted beliefs, so when people assume the worst of me, I can’t blame them. The Marchesis, the Notts, either way you look at it, there’s bad blood coursing through my veins.” 

“That’s not true, Theo,” you said softly. “You know I don’t think that of you, right?” 

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did. Everyone else does.” 

“Well, I don’t,” you said firmly. “You said it earlier. Family isn’t all that a person amounts to. When I look at you, I don’t see a Nott or a Marchesi. I just see Theo.” 

“I don’t deserve that,” he whispered. The saddest part was that you were sure he meant it. “My great great great grandmother fell in love with a muggle and how did my family repay her for it? They blotted him out of existence.” 

The starlight caressed his forlorn expression with its silver glow, painting a heartbreaking depiction of Theo that you had never seen before. It reminded you of that day in the potions lab when he was talking about his mother. There was such an openness and vulnerability in him then that was present now as well and you realized why he looked at you the way he did that day. 

Theo hadn’t been waiting for you to give him an out. He wanted—no, he needed a friend and you had been too scared to step up then, but you weren’t now. You could be that for him. You wanted to be that for him. A friend. 

Without second guessing yourself, you reached out in the space between you and grabbed hold of his hand. Theo stared at your intertwined fingers in surprise. 

“The love between Damiano and Alessandra lives on,” you said with a small smile. “In their children and their children’s children. In…you.” 

Those watercolor eyes, the very same ones that you had grown so familiar with shone with emotion. Unlike the day in the lab, Theo didn’t put up his mask of cockiness and arrogance and you realized with a start that you didn’t want him to. 

He smiled and squeezed your hand gently. “Yes, I suppose I inherited Damiano’s affinity for cruel, brilliant witches.”

"Affinity is putting it lightly," you said teasingly. "Admit it. You're obsessed with me, Nott."

You blinked as Theo hovered over you. The weight of his body pressed against yours ignited a flame of fiendfyre in your core. He dipped his head down, his curls tickling your nose. "No, not Nott. Not Theodore. Try that again, diavolina."

You wriggled underneath him, but Theo held your hips in place. He brushed his lips against yours and smirked when you tried to kiss him. His low rumble of laughter sent shivers down your spine. "Say it. Say my name again."

"If I say it, will you stop being a tease?"

Theo kissed your neck and laughed when you pouted in response. "Only one way to find out."

"I'll knee you in the crotch if you do that again, Theo."

He grinned. "There's a good girl," Theo said rather suggestively. You fought the urge to squirm at his words. He peppered kisses along your neck, your jaw, and your cheeks while you burst into a fit of drunken giggles. "For the record, I am obsessed with you, but I think you're a little bit obsessed with me too."

"You wish, Theo."

"You're going to be the death of me," he said huskily as he unbuttoned your cardigan. Theo's eyes were full of mischief as he dipped between your breasts, sucking on your flesh and leaving marks in his wake. "But I'm willing to die a happy man, Y/N."

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GO TO HELL

[Lucifer Morningstar x Fem!Reader]

➨ Prologue

Next: Chapter One

Premise:

You love your friends. You really do. But sometimes it needs reminding when one of them accidentally sends you to Hell.

Despite falling into the hands of Hell’s loveliest princess, finding a way back to the world of the living proves difficult as you tiptoe around its king.

Warning(s): blood, future nsfw (possibly?)(not in this chapter)

If you'd prefer to read on Ao3, here is the link:

Otherwise, enjoy!

♡ ♡ ♡

PROLOGUE

You were careful not to puncture the plastic biohazard bag as you struggled to fit it in your backpack. Your friend owed you big time for this one.

You enjoyed your job, but having to stay overtime was not the way you would typically choose to spend the free hours of your day. Unfortunately, one of your overachiever coworkers was closing as well, so you had to wait even longer than expected. She only left after you insisted on taking over her closing duties.

It took some convincing. You had to thoroughly explain how desperate you were to get out of some macho-man movie the guy you were seeing insisted on watching with you. It was a half-truth. You had no plans to spend any amount of time with him that night, but he had been heckling you for the past week about that fucking movie. Regardless, it did the trick since your coworker’s fiancé was obsessed with the same one, and she proceeded to go on a full rant about how much she loathed it.

All that matters is you successfully got her to leave, finished closing in record time, and finally got that damn biohazard bag zipped up safe in your backpack. With that, you were out the door and on your way to help your friend in their “time of need.”

Which basically translated to, “I need materials that are hard to acquire ethically, and if you love me, you’ll help.”

When you asked what on Earth they would ever need such a thing for, they told you they recently decided to dip their toes into the occult. What exactly that meant, you weren’t sure, and you didn’t want to know. You were just eager to drop off the biohazard bag and head home. You could see a nice hot bubble bath in the near future. Maybe a book and a fun little drink as a treat.

The brief walk to your car was surprisingly pleasant. You didn’t feel as though you were heading home in the middle of the night anymore as the days were growing longer. And it was that perfect temperature where you could wear a t-shirt or a sweater and still feel comfortable. Spring was at last beginning to bloom.

The sun was just about to set as you pulled up to your friend’s apartment building, which was thankfully only a short drive away from your workplace. You scaled a few floors until you got to their door. There wasn’t even a chance to knock before it swung open, and you were yanked inside by the collar of your shirt.

The room was dark save for a few dozen pillar candles that were lit around nearly the entire perimeter of the living room. The kitchen countertop was littered with all kinds of spices, some in containers, some in ominous Ziploc baggies, and most just spilled out across the faux granite. Looking closer at the floor in the center of the open room, there was a star with a circle around it drawn out in what looked to be salt or sugar. In the middle of it was a large black candle with a pile of what you assumed were the herbs from the counter surrounding it.

“Do you have it?” Devon asked as they pulled your bag from your hands. “We’re almost out of time. I got as much ready as I could, but this is the longest step.”

“I’m sorry. We? There is no we when you’re trying to sell your soul to the devil or- Look, I don’t know what you’re doing, but I’m not taking part,” you said as you helped them carefully remove the plastic bag, bringing it to the weird seance circle-thing. You dreaded the moment they opened it. Some of its contents were rather fresh, but some were a week or two old.

“Nobody is selling anybody’s soul,” your friend scoffed, tearing open the plastic after failing to undo your rather tight knot. You were not about to have that shit leaking out onto your personal belongings.

They instantly recoiled. You’ve never seen their face so shriveled up before. You wished you had your phone out to take a picture. They sat there for a moment before taking a deep breath and reaching their hand towards the bag’s opening.

You were going to gag.

“Stop! What are you doing?” you shrieked, stepping up to their side to stop them from actually dipping their fingers in. “Don’t you have gloves or something?”

“Did you bring me gloves?”

“You didn’t ask me to bring you gloves.”

“Then no, I don’t have gloves.”

“Can’t you just leave it in the bag?” you asked, shaking your head in disbelief. Sometimes you seriously questioned your taste in friends.

“No, the book says I have to use it to draw these symbols around the pentagram,” they said, sliding you the crustiest, dustiest book you had ever seen in your life. When you picked it up, you were worried it would crumble away from the way it crunched as you gripped the pages. Many of the words were blurred, including a portion of the title, which appeared to be in Latin.

You couldn’t understand it, but you remembered them saying it was something to do with summoning a demon. According to Devon, they can help you out with finances, academics, romance… You couldn’t help but imagine some horned monstrosity threatening your boss into giving you a raise or breaking into your teacher’s office to change your test scores.

“I can’t believe you’re actually doing this.” You carefully handed the book back to them and walked over to their desk where you knew they kept some basic art supplies. A paint brush should work fine so long as they sanitize the living hell out of it afterwards.

You sat down beside Devon and watched them slowly dip the white bristles into the biohazard bag. The paint brush came out nearly black, as if they were painting with tar, but as it was pressed to the apartment floor, it left behind streaks of crimson. You had to lean away from the overwhelming stench of it. Iron and rot.

Devon had explained to you that they were initially going to use whatever blood they could squeeze out of a steak from the supermarket. The only problem was the ritual specifically required it be human. Obviously, that only left them with two options: Prick their own finger (though they doubted that would be enough) or murder.

That was, until they remembered what you did for work.

You landed yourself a job in a medical facility testing blood samples for all sorts of diseases. Sometimes you only had to determine the blood type or whether it would be viable for donation. Once the testing was done, the blood would be discarded.

To Devon, this meant you had unlimited access to such a valuable ingredient in their twisted little plan. It took quite a bit of convincing before you finally agreed. You were worried about the possibility of losing your job. Can you believe that?

The final symbol was drawn out, and you were wondering why you were still there. You told yourself you would be in and out. You wanted nothing to do with this. Maybe it was just morbid curiosity? Never in your life, would you have thought you’d be helping your friend with some demonic ritual.

You decided it was finally time to take your leave as Devon began chanting in Latin. That was enough fuckery for one day. God knows you want no part in whatever their little séance results in.

You were barely able to get to your feet when the lines of salt began to glow an ominous red. The floor within the pentagram started to crumble away into what looked like a void as you noticed your shirt being gently tugged in its direction. You backed away, not taking your eyes off of it.

There was a blinding flash, then the room was filled with a shrill, ear-piercing noise. It was as if a thousand souls were screaming out at once. You’re sure you yelled out in alarm, though you couldn’t hear it. Covering your ears did little to dampen the volume.

You were jerked forward suddenly as the soft pull on your shirt grew fierce. Glowing red chains manifested around your waist with matching pairs of shackles around your wrists and ankles. Your eyes followed them as they led back to the pentagram. Whatever they were attached to on the other side was a mystery.

“Devon!”

Your cry went unanswered, and you spared a glance towards your dear friend. Their eyes appeared to have rolled back in their head, still chanting mindlessly.

The chains around you grew tighter, causing you to whine in discomfort. To your horror, they continued to pull you closer to the void. You tried with all your might to fight against it, throwing your weight back, legs stiffly digging into the plastic wood flooring in front of you. It was all for naught as your socks deprived you of any traction.

You only slid closer and closer to that gaping hole.

You screamed. You fell. You clawed at whatever you could get your hands on.

Then the ground beneath you vanished, and the world went silent.

Next Chapter