Chronically bad at titles

There is something uniquely exhausting about loving someone who is kind to everybody. You figure this out slowly, the way you figure out most things that hurt. It starts as a small, warm feeling somewhere in your chest whenever Trey Clover smiles at you from across the Heartslabyul kitchen, flour dusted along his forearm, the scent of something buttery and sweet already filling the whole room. It is easy, at first, to let yourself enjoy it. His smile is one of those rare things in life that feels like it was made specifically for you, even when your brain quietly reminds you that it was not.

Trey smiles like that at Riddle when he sets a perfectly iced tart in front of him. He smiles like that at the first-years when he catches them looking overwhelmed before exams. He smiles like that at you, and at Ace, and at Cater, and at just about every person who wanders through the Heartslabyul gates on a slow afternoon. His warmth has no ceiling and no particular address. It is simply there, available, generous, and completely impossible to read. This, you decide one Friday evening while watching him pour tea for literally everyone in the common room before himself, is the problem. You cannot tell if he likes you. You cannot tell if he likes you any more than he likes the potted rosebush by the front entrance, which he also tends to with remarkable care. You have spent weeks collecting tiny moments and turning them over in your hands like sea glass, trying to find the edge that makes them special.

The time he noticed your headache before you mentioned it and slid two pain tablets across the table without a word. The afternoon he walked you back toward Ramshackle after a Heartslabyul visit ran late, just because, he said, the path gets dark quickly and he had nowhere urgent to be. The way he remembers your favorite flavors without being asked and somehow always has something ready that matches them.

But then you watch him do the same, softer, different versions of all those things for other people, and the sea glass loses its shine. It is not his fault. You know that. Trey Clover is just built this way, steady and attentive, the kind of person whose care comes out of him like breathing. He does not mean to confuse you. He probably does not even know he is doing it. That almost makes it worse. So you do the only logical thing, which is to quietly, carefully, start putting distance between yourself and the problem. You stop dropping by Heartslabyul on weekday afternoons. You keep your responses in the group chat friendly but short. When your paths cross in the halls between classes, you give him a wave and a smile and keep walking before your chest can do anything stupid. It feels a little like holding your breath underwater. Uncomfortable, but manageable. You tell yourself you just need time to sort out your own feelings without his gravitational pull making it impossible to think straight.

For about two weeks, it works. Sort of. You sleep better. You stop overanalyzing his texts for hidden warmth. You eat your meals without looking up every time someone with brown hair and glasses walks past. What you do not account for is Trey noticing. He shows up at Ramshackle on a Saturday afternoon, right in the middle of the golden hour when the light comes through the dusty windows and makes everything look like an old photograph. You open the door and he is just standing there in his weekend clothes, a covered dish balanced in one hand, looking at you with something in his expression that you do not immediately have a name for. “I made lemon tarts,” he says. “You haven’t come by in a while.”

You step back to let him in because you are not made of stone, and also because you genuinely do not know what else to do. He sets the dish on the table in the main room and sits down like he belongs there, which, after all this time, he kind of does. “I’ve been busy,” you say, which is mostly a lie and probably sounds like one. Trey looks at you for a moment. He has this particular way of looking at people, careful and unhurried, like he is in no rush to reach a conclusion and is content to just observe until the right answer shows up on its own. You have always found it comforting. Right now it makes your pulse jump.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he says. It is not an accusation. His voice is even, almost gentle, which somehow makes it harder to deflect. You sit down across from him and look at the covered dish instead of his face. “I haven’t been avoiding you.” “You walked the long way around the main building three times this week.” You look up. “How do you even know that?” “Because I was coming the short way and I kept almost running into you.” The corner of his mouth lifts slightly. “You’re not as subtle as you think.” The embarrassment that moves through you is significant and immediate. You consider briefly whether the floor could just absorb you, and when it does not, you decide there is really nothing left to do but be honest. The distance was not working anyway. You are still just as in love with him as you were two weeks ago, maybe more, because apparently absence does not cure this particular problem, it just makes it louder.

“I was avoiding you,” you admit. “I just…” You stop. Start over. “It’s hard to be around you sometimes.” Trey’s expression shifts. Something in it becomes more careful. “Why?” “Because I can’t tell what you mean.” The words come out quieter than you intended. “You’re kind to everyone. You remember everyone’s preferences and you check in on people and you notice things that nobody else notices, and I never know if I’m just another person you’re keeping track of or if…” You trail off. “It’s easier to not think about it if I don’t see you.” The room is quiet for a moment. Outside, a bird calls once from somewhere in the overgrown garden and then goes silent. “What do you want it to be?” Trey asks. You look at him. He is watching you with that same unhurried attention, but there is something underneath it now that you have not seen before, or maybe have seen and talked yourself out of every time. Something that sits in the space between careful and hopeful. “I want it to be more,” you say. “I want you to look at me the way you look at everyone else, except also somehow different. I want to be one of the things you actually keep.” You exhale slowly. “I know that’s not a small thing to ask.”

Trey is quiet for long enough that your heart starts doing something unpleasant. Then he reaches across the table and takes the cover off the dish, revealing a small stack of lemon tarts, each one precisely iced, each one the exact style you mentioned offhandedly months ago when he had asked what your favorite dessert was. “I made these specifically for you,” he says. “Not for Riddle. Not for anyone else. I made them because you hadn’t come by and I kept thinking about whether you’d eaten anything you actually liked today.”

You stare at the tarts. Then you look at him. “I think about you differently,” he continues, and his voice is quieter now, steady but quieter. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to say that without making things strange between us. You’re not just someone I keep track of. You’re someone I keep coming back to.” He pauses. “You’re someone I wanted to come find today.” Something in your chest loosens all at once, like a knot that has been pulled tight for a very long time finally releasing. “I’m in love with you,” you say, because it feels important to say it plainly, out loud, where there is no room for misreading it.

Trey looks at you for a moment, and then he smiles. Not the open, easy smile he gives to everyone. Something softer than that. Something that does not look like it belongs to anyone else. “I know,” he says. “I think I’ve been in love with you too. I just didn’t want to assume.” You laugh before you can stop yourself, a short and slightly disbelieving sound, because of course. Of course Trey Clover, who notices everything, who keeps track of everyone, who shows up at your door on a Saturday with a dish of lemon tarts made precisely to your taste, would not assume.

“You could have just said something,” you say. “So could you.” He has a point. You concede it with a small nod, and he slides the dish toward you, and you take one of the tarts, and for the next hour the two of you sit in the golden afternoon light and talk the way you have always talked, easy and unhurried, except now his knee is close enough to yours that they are almost touching, and every time you glance up he is already looking at you.

It feels different this time. It feels exactly like what you asked for.

You are someone he keeps coming back to.

And he is, it turns out, someone you do not have to figure out anymore.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

“And not because you want to spend a night with me?” You pouted at him, pretending to be upset. His cheeks turned from pink to red as he attempted to cover his face with his hand, the color still clearly visible on his neck and ears. 

“I-I…I DID NOT SAY THAT.” His words were a bit muffled due to how he was covering his face, but it was still easy to understand him given his natural talking volume. 

You kind of felt bad for teasing him so much when he had clearly been building up the courage to ask you, but you couldn’t help yourself! He’s just too cute! “So you do want to spend a night with me, huh? That makes me happy.” 

“YOU-!” He started, his face betraying his inner turmoil. “Be at Diasomnia tonight and don’t be late!! I MUST ATTEND CLASS NOW.” He turned on his heel and left right away, his strides rather long. 

“Maybe he didn’t realize that he didn’t tell me what time?” You said to yourself, watching as he walked away. 

♡♡♡

When you receive a rather demanding text from Sebek, you can only giggle before making your way to the Mirror Chamber, (he admitted he had forgotten to tell you a time, but he assured you dinner was already over). 

It’s already late in the evening when you arrive at Diasomnia, so there’s not too many who notice your sudden presence except for the few students lingering in the common area. When you spot Sebek, you have to stifle your giggles; he’s standing in the corner next to the staircase, his posture abnormally rigid as he smoothed his hair over with his hands. He had already changed into his pajamas, and you found it a bit endearing how they matched his hair color, (although you’re questioning the hat…does he really need a hat to go to sleep?). 

He only notices your presence when you’re directly in front of him, his eyes momentarily widening at how you playfully let out a ‘boo!’. “When did you get here?! You should have said something!!” 

“Relax, I just got here! I didn’t wanna keep my popsicle waiting too long~” 

“YOU…” Heads turned when Sebek’s voice unintentionally got a bit louder, to which he cleared his throat awkwardly, lowering the volume again. “I am not a popsicle!! As I said, this is only for the purpose of-of survival!” 

“If you say so,” You teased, making Sebek narrow his gaze at you in his very serious way, (he’s so cute even if he’s looking at you like this). 

“I do!!” He began walking up the stairs with you following, leading the both of you to his room. 

Perhaps his request had been so surprising to you since he hadn’t even let you into his room yet, stating that you would ‘distract’ him from sleeping or studying if you were there, (which you could tell was a bit of a thing for him to admit, so you decided not to tease him about it). You had to admit, you were pretty curious about his room decor…were there portraits of Malleus everywhere? 

Oh, there’s just one. That’s better than I was expecting. 

“Pff, Sebek…” You giggled, pointing at his bed. 

“W-What?!” 

“Hehe, did you match your sheets to your hair color?” He sputtered at your words, his words suddenly coming up blank. 

“I, uh…I…LILIA CHOSE THEM FOR ME.” He stammered, crossing his arms and huffing. 

“Yeah?” 

“YES,” 

“It’s cute,” 

“Cute?!” He exclaimed, a light blush dusting his cheeks as he looked at you in shock. “You think it’s cute…” His eyes widen even more as you tap his nose playfully. 

“Yup. Are you ready for me to melt you now?”

“Melt-?! Wha-?!”

“‘Cause you’re my super sweet popsicle who freezes without me, apparently.” Sebek gaped at your teasing, seeming unable to form words as you flopped on his bed, making yourself comfortable. “If you’re gonna stand there all night, it’ll hurt my feelings.” 

“You’re on the whole bed!!” 

“Oops.” You scooted yourself over, making room for him as he walked over rather robotically, seating himself on the very edge of the bed. 

“Well!!” He started, turning off the lamp. “Fairest of nights to you, rest well!!” His body weight shifted in the bed, and from the dim outline in the dark you could tell he was laying as close to the edge as he possibly could, laying completely flat like a wooden plank. 

“...You’re gonna stay all the way over there?”

“This is a suitable spot.” 

“You don’t want to be closer to me?” There was silence for a bit, your question hanging in the air as you patiently waited for his answer. 

“I don’t wish to make you…uncomfortable.” 

“Would I have agreed if I thought I was going to be uncomfortable?” There was silence from him, and you knew you’d won. “Exactly. Now come here, I know you’re freezing.” 

He stayed still for a few moments before awkwardly shuffling over, stopping when he was just shy of actually making any contact with you. Even without touching him, you could feel the chill that was radiating off of him. You could only smile quietly to yourself at how he was trying to respect your boundaries, (that you didn’t even set) as you cuddled into his side, pulling your leg up to rest over him. His skin was ice cold against yours which made a shiver go down your back, but you kept close to him, knowing your heater-like warmth would kick in soon. 

You let out a soft ‘brr’, resting your arm across his chest. “Wow, you’re actually freezing. How did you sleep before?” 

“...I would stoke the fireplace until there was enough heat to reach my bed.” He explained, though there was a sheepish tone to his voice. “Lilia has told me I’m no longer allowed to do that.” 

“I’m kind of scared to ask, but why not?” 

“The carpet caught on fire.” 

“Oh. Yeah, that’ll do it, I guess…” You trailed off, silently laughing, (and subsequently failing). 

Sebek was a bit stiff at first, but the more you cuddled into him, the more relaxed he seemed to be. Eventually, he even put his arm around you, pulling you a bit closer to him under the guise of ‘being cold’. His chest rose and fell with each of his breaths, and you could feel him getting warmer the more you clung onto him. Despite his hesitation at first, his arm was like a wall against your back, making sure that you stayed close to him and didn’t pull away. 

“Good night…” He mumbled, seeming to be on the edge of sleep. 

“G’night, sleep well…” 

♡♡♡

“Oho? What’s this?” Your eyes opened at the sound of a voice, your vision blurry and unfocused. You pushed yourself up a bit, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, and-

“Gah!! Lilia?!” You yelped, which only made him laugh directly in your face as he floated above you, his hair hanging down. 

“I wasn’t aware we were having sleepovers now!” He smiled down at both of you, Sebek still sound asleep at your side. 

“Sebek invited me since he couldn’t sleep from being so cold.” You explained, a bit embarrassed at being caught by Lilia. You weren’t necessarily doing anything bad, but still…

“Ahh, the rug incident. I suppose that’s fair then. Well, breakfast is ready whenever you’d like, little ones!” With that threat, he disappeared, leaving you alone with Sebek. 

You contemplated waking him up to try and salvage breakfast, but the way he looked when he was sleeping…his face was so relaxed, and he seemed so comfortable…

You laid down next to him, snuggling into his side again. 

Just five more minutes. 

a/n: Hiiii thank you so much for requesting !! i ended up making it gender neutral just bc i didn't end up using any gendered terms :P hope thats alright !! this is a bit of a shorter one, just because ... idk. my brain . hehe . I HOPE YOU ENJOYED HEHE OK BYE

The jacket is red —deep, rich red, the kind that looks expensive— with gold embroidery running up the front and along the sleeves in elaborate curling patterns. The collar sits high and neat against his throat.

And his hair, still that sandy-blonde that refuses to lie flat, still a little tousled at the crown in a way that probably can't be helped. But someone has taken the front section and pinned it back. Three small clips over his bangs, tucking his bangs just enough to open up his face.

There's something on his lashes too. Something subtle, just enough to make his eyes look sharper. He's leaning against the wall with his cheek propped in one hand, watching you take all of this in, and the expression on his face is one you recognize intimately.

"You're starin'," he says.

"I'm looking," you say, which is not a defense.

"Same thing."

It is, unfortunately, the same thing. You are very much looking.

"Your hair," you say.

Something flickers across his face. Not quite embarrassment, but almost. "What about it.”

"You look good…" you start.

He smirks. Of course he does. He probably stood in front of a mirror with those pins between his fingers and thought ‘yeah. This'll do it.’ The smile at the corner of his mouth has that particular smug smile. Speaking of his lips, it looks incredibly delicious, lip gloss lightly shining under the room’s lights.

“We’re done with the shoot, right?”

You could tell he was caught of guard because his ears stood slightly “…yeah, why?”

“I’m going to ruin your make up.” You take his face in both hands and kiss him before he can reply.

He makes a sound against your mouth —surprised, a little breathless. He tenses up for a moment then you feel him smile against your lips. He kisses you back properly. He tasted faintly sweet, the lip gloss transferring soft and slick between you.

You press closer. His back against the wall. His hand finds from your wrist an it trails up your arm, he tilts his head, and the kiss deepens without either of you deciding it. His teeth catch your lower lip and you make a small sound before you can stop it.

You feel him exhale through his nose. Satisfied. Insufferable. You bite back. You hear him let out a small moan, the sound coaxing out a grin from you.

He pulls away just enough to look at you, eyes half-lidded, lips parted and considerably more wrecked than they were a minute ago. He frowns slightly at your comeback but teases anyway,

“got you a little excited, huh?”

You roll your eyes at his comment, then tugs at his jacket, "This jacket is a problem."

“Careful that’s expensive.” You see his lips turn into a frown again, you double down with a pout of your own.

“Now that look’s just cheating. You want it off or somethin’?” Oh that smug smile is back, the smile that makes you want to devour him —or the other way around. Anything works.

“You’ll take it off?” You take him up on his offer.

He moves fast, slips out of your grip and flips your positions in one smooth motion, your back meeting the wall with a soft thud, his arm braced beside your head. "Whoa there," he snickers. "Calm down."

“Stop playing around.”

You see his ears fold slightly, seemingly taken aback by your stern tone. Oh dang you were serious about ruining his make up.

“Don’t have anymore shoots here. But you’re going to have to compensate me, yeah?” He shrugs, you could feel his breath against your skin with how close he is.

“Doesn’t sound like a problem.” Your mirror that smug smile of his, gaze locking on him. Then his eyes flutter close as he leans in to kiss you again.

As if sent by that very hope, Ruggie had shown up. He came in like he always did, a smirk on his face and a gleam in his eye that announced who his next target was. He didn’t have an umbrella, but he seemed to have nabbed someone’s coat because the one he held above his head was much larger. 

“Heya, Prefect.” He greets, walking up to you with the practiced confidence of an experienced salesman preparing to sell you the worst set of knives and magic rings in your life. “What’re you doing out of the dorm, huh?” He questioned. 

“Grim wanted to come here earlier, so I gave him the key but now he’s sleeping and I can’t get in…” You grumble, gesturing at the window. Grim was there, curled up like the tiny cat he was on the couch. You could probably wake him up, but you’d have to yell, and you weren’t ready to deal with cleaning up the firepower produced by a spooked Grim. 

Before you could consider if you should find a broken window to jump through, Ruggie bumped your shoulder into his. “You know where the door’s not locked? Savanaclaw.” He did jazz hands with only one hand, a halfhearted attempt at adding some excitement into his mocking. You frowned at him, making him laugh some more. “Hey, hey, I’m just offering!” 

“What’s the catch?” You deadpanned. Nothing he did came without something in it for him, but he still feigned hurt by placing a hand over his chest.

“Me? A catch?” He dramatically asked, before smiling again. “Well, I am a catch, thank you for noticing. And all you have to do is one tiny little task for me!” He grinned, “I’ve been meaning to groom myself, but it takes a bunch of work. You’ll do it for me, won’t you? Just like brushing a dog.” He offered, “I’ll even convince Leona to buy both of us dinner with that big wallet with us.” He winked like it was a joke you both were in on. 

You waited for only a second and a few more drops of rain to fall on your head before you agreed, walking with him under that big umbrella of his. Shelter was shelter when it was raining cats and dogs. 

You wondered for a moment if grooming had any greater meaning to beastfolk, before deciding against it. Then, you decided you didn’t care. Free shelter was free shelter, and the idea of swindling Leona into buying you dinner was more than enough to convince you to follow him. 

The second time, it’s a bit stranger. You’d assumed he was more selfish than that– You’d assumed all of NRC was pretty selfish, in fact– But it seems that he wasn’t. Or, at least, he was waiting until you had a debt so large to him you’d do anything he wanted. Either was plausible. 

Still, he handed you a donut while you were in the library. You take it from him cautiously, sniffing it once. “Poison?” You ask, as if he’d actually tell you if it was. Instead, he just laughs and shakes his head. 

“Nah, don’t you worry your pretty little head. I’d choose better means to poison you if I wanted to.” He smiled, his sharp canines on display, and you waited for a moment before speaking up again. 

“What do you want in return?” You question, unable to let go of your suspicion. He shrugs. 

“I’ve got this bad itch on my tail, been there all day. Can you get it for me, Prefect?” He asked, batting his eyelashes in feigned innocence. Well, it was a good enough deal for you. 

You pat your lap, a silent gesture for him to get on. He raises an eyebrow, but willingly takes a seat and waits for you to pet his tail. 

You finish the donut and go back to studying before he moves, and even then, it’s only to adjust his grip from your shoulders to your waist. You’re not sure what PDA rules the school has, but you’re sure you’re breaking at most of them. 

Still, you like your partner in crime, and he’s fluffy enough that you don’t mind petting him while you get your work done. 

By the third time, it’s a pattern. You raised an eyebrow when he approached you, all grins and snickers. He crouched down next to you, putting a hand on either side of his face like it would make him look cuter. It kind of worked. 

“So, what’cha doing down there, Prefect?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. You groaned, rubbing your back. You didn’t even want to remember it… 

“Goose.” You bitterly muttered. It was a horrible, horrible goose. You’d been peacefully eating lunch outside when it had appeared, all feathers and talons in its evil, webbed feet. They were more wicked than the platypus, more murderous than Grim when you pet his tiny little belly a bit too much. They did nothing but kill and steal, and this one had done its work remarkably efficiently. 

It had stolen your sandwich. Your precious, amazing sandwich. It was a delicious sandwich, the best sandwich in the world. It was a gift from Crewel after you helped him that morning since none of the other ungrateful students here would assist. It had layers of flavor. Beautiful flavor. 

And the goose had stolen it from you. It didn’t even hesitate. It had taken it and killed your will to live within minutes. You didn’t even need to tell Ruggie the entire story. He just looked in your eyes and knew that you would never be the same. 

But like an angel descended from heaven, he put an energy bar in your hand. You stared up at him, unable to vocalize your true thankfulness at his kind gesture, but it’s okay. He ruined the moment anyway when he sat next to you and opened his big, fat mouth. 

“You lost a fight to a goose? Really?” He snickered, before leaning over to you. You glare at him and open your energy bar, taking a bite. Ruggie, without warning, plops his head into your lap. 

“What are you doing?” You poke his head. He grabs your hand and moves it toward his ears, tsking you like you’re a stubborn child. 

“It’s the petting tax. I’m doing you a favor, just don’t get crumbs on me.” He got settled again, stuffing his face into your thigh. 

You give him a few scratches on his ears and play with his hair, and it only takes him a few minutes before he’s melted into your lap. You giggle quietly, trying not to interrupt his relaxing time. His tail was wagging. 

The fourth time he does it? You hardly bat an eye. This is your routine now. He just walks in and hands you a couple of items, sometimes actually useful, sometimes not, and you pet him. 

Your bag when you forgot it in the library? There’s head pats for his trouble. 

Food because you skipped lunch to help set up an unbirthday party? Scratches behind the ears for you, King. 

The notes you missed because you were too busy cleaning up after Ace and Deuce's most recent absolute disaster? You would die before denying the chance to brush his tail. 

When he brings you potted plants full of flowering vegetables and helps you set them up in your kitchen, you’re pretty sure he’s about to frame you for stealing, but you accept them anyway. It would just feel wrong not to. 

Besides, he has good taste in movies, and you don’t really need to listen to them as long as you’re holding him on the couch. He falls asleep midway through most of them, anyway. 

You don’t think you’re that comfy to sleep on, but he purrs in his sleep, so you guess you’re doing something right. 

By the end of the month, he doesn’t even need to ask. He just walks up to you and plops onto your lap in the center of the cafeteria, placing a single candy bar onto your, admittedly pretty plain, lunch of rice and the cheapest soup on the menu. None of the other first years even had the chance to make their usual show of giving you “leftovers” that definitely hadn’t been bought just for you before your hands were on Ruggie, petting his ears like he was your childhood pet. The first years, currently just Ace and Deuce due to everyone else having to help their housewardens out or study for exams, didn’t even take a moment before staring at you like you’d grown a second head. 

“So,” Deuce coughed, preparing to engage in casually hinting at a subject to get the other person to say more. It was a very advanced kind of social interaction. Unfortunately for Deuce, he was very bad at social interaction. “Ruggie, huh?” He asked. The second-year in question opened his eyes lazily to squint at the hopeless boy. 

“Yeah?” He asked, yawning. 

“You exist!” He announced to the room with so much excitement it was like he was announcing his firstborn child. Ruggie just shrugged. 

“What else am I supposed to do?” He asked, leaning his head against your shoulder. You began petting his ears, a mostly subconscious gesture. 

“Not exist there.” Ace unhelpfully supplied. Ruggie snorted. 

“Guess I’ll just take my Prefect over to Savanaclaw instead.” He stuck his tongue out at Ace. It would have been a show of childishness, if Ace hadn’t stuck his tongue out back and proved that everyone in this school was a child. 

You flicked his forehead in retaliation. “Don’t be mean, Ace…” You muttered, opening up your candy bar to begin eating. You offered Ruggie a bite, which he took with the flair of someone fully prepared to start a war at that lunch table. 

“I’m not being mean!” The redhead insisted, “I’m just pointing out the obvious! Juice and I–” 

“His name is still Deuce.” You interrupted. He glared at you. 

“Mr. Koolaid Man and I are your best friends, and we’re not allowed to sit on your lap and eat your chocolate! The last time I tried, you bit me!” 

“I’d do it again.” You affirmed, nodding at his points casually. You bit into your chocolate bar again, and Ruggie just wrapped his arms around you, holding you like a koala. “Ruggie’s just special.” 

“So, are you, like, dating or what?” Ace asked, rolling his eyes like the concept of someone else being allowed to eat your food personally offended his entire worldview. 

“Nah.” You replied. Ruggie nodded against your neck, his ears tickling your chin. You were pretty sure he was only half paying attention, but you didn’t mind much. After all, he fell asleep on you all the time. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. 

Ace and Deuce didn’t seem to believe you, but they let it slide, at least for now. You were silently a bit grateful for that. They were your friends, but they could be a bit nosy sometimes. 

That night, Ruggie is laying on your couch again, cuddling you like he always did. You were scrolling on your phone, both staring at it mindlessly. There wasn’t really a need for 

“Hey,” He started, “I saw this new café is opening in town. There’s a discount for students.” You tossed your phone onto the couch, dutifully ignored once something more interesting came up. 

“You wanna go?” You asked, leaning into the top of his head. He smelled kind of like pine needles and burnt caramel. It was uniquely him in a way that you had always liked. 

“Nah. We’re both broke.” He replied, shoving his face into his chest. He was very cuddly today, more than he was most of the time. You kissed the top of his head absentmindedly. 

“Cool,” You remarked, “Maybe I’ll make you something.” Ruggie snorted. 

“I bet you’re a horrible cook. You look like you burn everything you touch.” You hit him lightly, just enough to make him snicker, his warm breath against your collarbone. 

“You’ve never had my homemade meals, Mr. Gourmet. I could be the best chef you’ve ever met.” 

“Come on, you were supposed to ask me why I thought you’d burn it!” He insisted, grinning despite the hit. You smiled and nodded, letting him continue. “It’s ‘cause you’re hot.” He winked teasingly. You put a hand over his mouth, laughing with your head tilted back. 

He put his face back into your skin and just rested there, feeling the vibrations of your voice wash over his face. By the Seven, you were oblivious… 

You’re trying your best here, you really are, but it’s really hard to focus on History of Magic of all things when Sebek is sitting right across from you, his eyebrows slightly pulled together in an adorably confused expression. The end of his pencil was resting on his cheek, making it squish just the right amount that you swore he was acting cute on purpose. 

It had started with small things that you could excuse at first: the way your heart stuttered when he called your name in his rather loud voice, the way you couldn’t help but admire the shine in his eyes when he talked about Malleus, the way he secretly was a big softie to his horse, (which you probably weren’t supposed to see, but you were so glad you did). 

You’re not sure when it happened, but somewhere along the way you had realized that the margins of your notebooks were filled with little doodles of Sebek and with countless prints of his name, and embarrassingly enough, they were also filled with your name paired with his last name. 

Yeah, you were down bad. 

When Sebek had invited you to study with him in the library a few weeks prior, of course you accepted almost immediately! It was rare for you to be able to spend time with him without the rest of the first-years, so you had jumped at the opportunity. It had been a lovely study session, with Sebek having to speak in a lower tone due to being in the library, (which did something to your heart) so you considered it very successful! 

Minus the fact that you didn’t actually complete any work. 

When he had proposed weekly study sessions ‘for productivity!!’ you of course immediately agreed again, fully knowing that you would just be spending three hours in the library unable to focus every single time. In your defense, you really do try but…

“I must perform perfectly…for Waka-sama…” Sebek mumbled, his eyes completely focused on the pages in front of him. You had to press your lips together to keep from smiling, your gaze now fixed on him instead of your textbook. It was a rare sight for you to see Sebek so silently focused on something, given he was usually quite talkative and loud, (which you found rather charming). 

Focus, (Y/N)!

Your eyes flitted back to your own workspace, your measly three sentences in your notes reflecting how distracted you really were. It was a bit embarrassing to think that you were crushing on Sebek so hard you couldn’t even study, but at the same time, it was nice to have a sense of normalcy in your life outside of running errands for Crowley or dealing with whatever disaster the school goes through next. 

You quietly tapped your pencil on your paper, biting the inside of your cheek. The library was relatively empty at this hour, with most of the students returning back to their dorms for the night, leaving you and Sebek alone in the section of the library you two were in. 

Oh, there goes my motivation…

“Urgh…” Sebek groaned, his hand going to his forehead in what seemed to be distress. 

You looked at him in concern, setting your pencil down. “Sebek…are you okay?” 

“No!” He exclaimed, his voice echoing throughout the library. A ‘shh!’ from the direction of the librarian desk made him grumble, his ears turning pink in embarrassment. “I…can’t focus.” You giggled at his words, (did he have to be so cute all the time?!) making him glare at you. “What is so funny?!” He whisper-yelled, doing his best to keep a lower volume. 

“Nothing, sorry! I can’t focus either though…” You admitted, shrugging your shoulders at him. “It happens. Is it a topic you don’t understand, or you’re just done for today?” 

Sebek seemed to think for a moment, his eyes looking over at his notebook. The confused look on his face was priceless to you, but…

You stood up from your chair, walking around the table to Sebek’s side and leaning down on the table next to him to peer over his textbook. “Defensive Magic, huh?” You murmured, flipping through some of the textbook’s pages to see what topic he was struggling with, (perhaps your arm brushing against him was a bit too much, but you couldn’t help yourself). “Even though I can’t use magic, I still understand the concepts pretty well. Do you want me to explain some of-?” 

“I-I do not require assistance from you!” Sebek interrupted, scooting his chair away from you. You frowned at this, putting your hands up in defeat. 

“Hey, I was just asking.” You pouted, a bit disappointed at his reaction. “Let me at least take a look at your notes, I can add some things that helped me…” You reached for his notebook, unable to see the sudden panic in his eyes as he tried to grab it back from you. 

“W-Wait! I did not allow you to go through my things, human!” He exclaimed, his voice echoing throughout the library once again. 

“Relax, Sebek. I won’t make fun of you for drawing Malleus all over your notebook, if that’s what you’re worried about.” You teased, reaching for a pencil as you flipped through to where his notes started for Defense Magic. 

“I don’t-?! Nevermind, give it back!”

“It’s just two sentences and I’ll give it…back…to you…” You trailed off as you stared at the pages of his notebook. While there were regular notes on them, the margins were full of your name in his neat, loopy handwriting. You looked down at him, surprise evident on your face as you felt heat begin to rush into your cheeks. 

The sight before you was one you wanted to burn into your memory. 

Sebek had a hand covering the lower half of his face, his slightly squished cheeks and ears now a bright shade of red as he kept his gaze fixed on the ground, doing everything he could to not look at you. 

“You…” 

“Give it back!” You let him snatch the notebook away from you, still staring at him in shock. Sebek closed the notebook quite forcefully, abruptly standing up from his chair and beginning to pack his things rather quickly. 

“Sebek-” 

“I have duties I must attend to, so I will be taking my leave now!” 

“Wait!” 

“Farewell-”

“I said wait!” You interrupted, grabbing his wrist to keep him from leaving. While he most definitely could have released himself from your grip, he didn’t. When you were sure he wasn’t going to move, you leaned over the table to take your own notebook, flipping through it until you reached a somewhat mild page, (a page only including his name, you weren’t sure you wanted to show the extents of your daydreaming just yet). You thrust it in his direction, forcing him to look at it. 

“What…what is this…?” He questioned, his voice a bit shaky as his eyes examined the page. 

“What do you think?” You remarked sarcastically, waiting for him to realize. “Why do you think I haven’t been able to focus?” He doesn’t say anything in response, instead staring at the margins of your notebook. You swore you were having heart palpitations right now; this was not the turn of events you were expecting, and you had no idea what his reaction would be. 

Please don’t think I’m weird…

“You…” Sebek started, then stopped, his lips pressed together. 

“I?” You questioned, trying to urge him to say the rest of his sentence. He shook his head, running his hand through his hair in what seemed to be distress, (how he was able to do that with all the hair gel in it, you’ll never know). 

“You…would you…like to accompany me to Sam’s…? I require ingredients for dinner…” He managed to get out, stumbling over some of his words. He still refused to look at you, his embarrassment quite evident from the rosy hue on his face. 

“Sure.” He finally met your gaze when you agreed, his eyes wide with shock. You only smiled at him, feeling as though you were walking on the clouds of heaven. “What are you waiting for?” 

“Wha…Right…Yes! Let’s depart!” Sebek stumbled over his words again, but puffed up at the last moment, his usual proud smile back on his face as though nothing had happened. You tugged on your notebook that was still in his hand, but he still held it firmly in his grip, making you raise an eyebrow at him. 

“Can I have my notebook back?” 

“Are there more pages?” He suddenly asked, keeping the notebook in his hands. 

“Uh…” You trailed off, a bit hesitant to answer his question, (the gleam in his eyes was so cute though…). 

“May I see?” 

“M-Maybe later…?”  

“I will hold you to that, human.” He let go of the notebook, a satisfied smile on his face. 

He’s so cute. 

a/n: AAHH my first request in soooo long ty for requesting anon !! i've actually never written anything for sebek, so hopefully this is alright !! i feel like if he had a crush on a human he would try and hide it, but if they like him back he would be super happy ^^ but since i don't have much experience writing him this is a bit shorter aahh also b/c i dont wanna write super long things rn w the jade story still in continuation :P EEKK ty for requesting anon you were the first request to come throughhh and this was so cute <333