#but sometimes we can see the beams of light of affection shining through the way he describes Eli

[kusakiguzen]

Hello 👋 um I don't know if your request is open, but could you do yandere Shanks x female reader headcanon. Like how Shanks meet the reader, how he got obsessed, etc. (Can you make it where shanks crew is obsessed with the reader too, not in a romantic way and helps shanks)

A/N: It took me a while to get a good enough idea and i have two. I feel this is soul less but i did my best with my degrading mental health right now. I hope you enjoy.

I'm not really familiar with the crew except Benn so i did include him. I don't think this is my best work and i honestly hate it and will probably try again once in a better headspace.

I apologize if its not up to your taste

Warning: Has a shit ton of grammatical mistakes, I'm so sorry

Thank you for stopping by

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the Red force. Laughter and the sounds of clashing swords filled the air, a reminder of the crew’s relentless spirit. You were nestled in a corner of the ship, blissfully unaware of the darker truths that surrounded you. As Ben Beckman’s little sister, you had grown up sheltered from the harsh realities of the world, always finding comfort in your brother’s protective presence.

Your first encounter with Shanks was a vivid memory. It had been a fateful day when your brother brought you on the infamous captain aboard the Red force for a visit. You had been playing with a few of the younger crewmates, their laughter echoing around you, when Ben approached, his usual calm demeanor slightly overshadowed by a hint of excitement.

“Y/N, come here! I want you to meet someone special,” he called, ushering you toward the main deck.

You followed, curious and eager. As you stepped into the sunlight, your eyes landed on the man with red hair, his grin wide and inviting. “Hey there! You must be Ben’s little sister. I’ve heard so much about you!”

Your heart raced at the sight of him. He was everything stories had described—a charismatic figure whose presence lit up the room. “Hi! I’m Y/N,” you said, beaming.

Shanks smiling while holding your hand, his playful nature shining through. “I hear you love adventures. How about we have one together? I could use a partner in crime!”

You giggled, completely taken in by his charm. “Really? That sounds amazing!”

That day marked the beginning of your bond with Shanks. He took you on a mini adventure around the ship, showing you the ropes and regaling you with tales of his travels. You listened, wide-eyed, as he spoke of battles and treasures, unaware of the underlying dangers that came with such a life.

As you laughed and explored, you felt a sense of warmth and safety that enveloped you. Little did you know that Shanks, even then, had been captivated by your innocence, seeing you as a light in a world filled with shadows.

Fast forward to the present, and Shanks was still a constant figure in your life, always by your side, watching over you with a mix of affection and an intensity that you couldn’t quite place.

“Hey, Y/N!” Shanks called out one afternoon, striding over with that signature grin. “What are you up to?”

“Just watching the waves,” you replied, your eyes sparkling with innocence. “It’s so peaceful!”

Shanks’ heart raced at your words. He loved how you saw the world, so untouched by the dangers lurking just beyond the horizon. “You know, the world isn’t as safe as it seems,” he said, his tone shifting ever so slightly. “But I promise to protect you, no matter what.”

You giggled, brushing off his concern. “I know! Ben would never let anything happen to me.”

At the mention of your brother, Shanks’ expression softened. Ben was fiercely protective, almost possessive, and the crew had come to share that sentiment. While they all adored you, their affection had a darker edge, something you remained blissfully unaware of.

“Ben’s always looking out for you,” Shanks agreed, stepping closer. “But sometimes, you need to rely on others too. Like me.”

You smiled, oblivious to the way his gaze lingered on you, filled with intensity. “Of course! You’re my favorite big brother figure!”

Shanks chuckled, though a hint of frustration bubbled beneath the surface. He wanted more than just the role of a guardian; he longed to claim you as his own. But he also understood that you were naive to the world's cruelties. That innocence was something he cherished, and he’d do anything to keep it intact.

Meanwhile, Ben watched from a distance, arms crossed, his eyes narrowed. He’d seen the way Shanks looked at you, and though he trusted his captain, an unsettling feeling gnawed at him. He would always prioritize your safety above all else, even if it meant keeping you sheltered from the crew's darker inclinations.

“Y/N!” Ben called, stepping forward. “How about a game? Just the two of us.”

You perked up, grateful for your brother’s attention. “Sure! What should we play?”

As you wandered off with Ben, Shanks watched, his expression conflicted. He loved you dearly, but he knew that your brother's presence would always be a barrier. Later that evening, as you prepared to settle down for the night, Ben and Shanks found a moment to speak privately.

“Shanks,” Ben began, his tone serious. “We both care about Y/N. We need to keep her safe.”

Shanks nodded, his expression hardening. “I agree. The world is dangerous, and we both know it. But together, we can protect her.”

Ben’s eyes narrowed. “We need to be vigilant. No one can get to her without going through us.”

“Exactly,” Shanks replied, a determined glint in his eye. “We’ll make sure she never sees the darkness of this world. We’re in this together, Ben. We’ll keep her innocent and happy, no matter what.”

Days passed, filled with laughter and adventures on the high seas. Yet, as you explored, the crew’s obsession grew, entwining around you like a vine. You remained blissfully unaware, believing the crew’s protectiveness stemmed from love and friendship. Little did you know, their hearts were tied together by a darker thread, one that bound them to you more tightly than any affection could.

One night, as the stars twinkled above, you sat on the deck, lost in thought. Shanks approached, leaning against the railing beside you. “You okay, Y/N?”

“Yeah! Just thinking about how lucky I am to be with you all,” you replied, your eyes shining with sincerity.

Shanks’ smile faltered for a brief moment, replaced by a more serious look. “You have no idea how lucky you are… or how dangerous this world can be.”

You tilted your head, confused. “I mean, I’ve heard stories, but it doesn’t feel that way here.”

“Exactly,” Shanks said, his voice low. “And that’s how it should stay. As long as we’re here, you’ll always be safe.”

You grinned, completely missing the intensity behind his words. “I know! You all make me feel so protected.”

As the night deepened, Shanks’ hand brushed against yours, an electric jolt that sent a thrill down your spine. You looked up, meeting his gaze, still unaware of the storm brewing within him.

The next day, Ben noticed the lingering touches and exchanged glances. He felt the urge to intervene, to remind Shanks of the boundaries. But deep down, he understood the allure of your innocence—the way it made everyone around you feel alive, almost compelled to keep you close.

“Let’s go on an adventure today!” you suggested, breaking the tension.

“Count me in,” Ben replied, masking his unease with a smile. Shanks nodded, but a flicker of possessiveness gleamed in his eye. He wouldn’t let anyone take you away from him.

As you laughed and played with your brother and the crew, you remained blissfully unaware of the intertwining shadows of yandere love that surrounded you. The Red-Haired Pirates had claimed you as their treasure, and they would go to any lengths to protect you, even if it meant shielding you from the very truths of the world that would shatter your innocence.

In the embrace of their twisted affection, you danced on the edge of a dangerous precipice, blissfully ignorant of the love that could turn to obsession at a moment's notice. And so, the sweet story of your life with the yandere Shanks and Ben continued, a delicate balance of joy and darkness that only time would reveal.

A/N: I didn't particularly like this piece but i still posted it.

Umm i hope you enjoy reading it @wereallmadhere666

Stay Safe, Healthy and Hydrated

[stellar-constellations]

Star Patient: Chapter 1 (FINISHED SERIES)

WARNING: This series will include; possible inaccurate medical procedures and medical setting, gore, toxic relationships that should NOT be replicated in real life, murder, yanderes, cursing, suicide mentions, implications of misandry (male misogyny), and possibly more.

Inaccurate canon-timeline (this is before Ashley and Andrew murdered their parents).

Reader has a small fear of adult men/rape and has a history of suicide attempts.

Incest is not Wincest.

Amnesiac! Obsessive! Patient! Andrew Graves x Yandere! Nurse! Reader:

Wordcount: 8,390 words (I am so sorry for how long the first chapter is).

Chapters: Current chapter, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, chapter 7, chapter 8, final chapter.

Want to listen to music while reading? Check out the Star Patient's Official Playlists! Multiple different playlists and genres!

         “Can you say ‘aaaaaah?’” (Y/N) drawled out.

        Her patient, little eight-year-old Lou, opened his mouth widely like a lion and ‘aaaaaah’ed for her as she shined her mediscope light down into his throat, checking his tonsils, uvula, throat's lining, gums, and tongue.

        “Mmm, I see. You can close your mouth now. Good job, Lou!” she cheered as the kid beamed. “He has enlarged tonsils. Do you hear him snore at night?” she questioned, turning her attention to the concerned mother.

        “He snores so loud he’s woken us up from across the house.” His mother sighed. “Is that bad?”

        “Does he have problems focusing in school because he’s tired. Taking naps that are over an hour multiple times a week?” (Y/N) asked.

        “Yes. His teacher complained just last week about him sleeping in class during a spelling test.” Lou's mother confirmed.

        “I see. Lou, do you have any problems sleeping? Like do you wake up multiple times a night?” (Y/N) questioned, looking over towards the small boy.

        “Maybe once or twice a night…” Lou muttered as he thought to himself.

        “And does your throat hurt when you wake up?” (Y/N) questioned.

        “Sometimes.” He responded.

        “How often do you get sick?” (Y/N) questioned.

        “Honestly, we’ve lost count. This past year he’s been sick at least three times.” His mother admitted.

        “And it’s June. I see.” (Y/N) nodded, grabbing her clipboard of papers and a pen. “Lou is experiencing obstructive sleep apnea due to his enlarged tonsils affecting his sleep, which is affecting his daytime behavior and is the cause of why he gets sick so often. I do recommend surgery to remove them. I’ll write down some children hospitals near your area that specialize in pediatric surgery, that way we can get the right surgeon for the job.” She explained, writing down hospitals, where they’re located, and doctor names specializing in tonsil-study.

        “Does this all sound about right, Doctor Ryan?” she questioned, turning her attention to the corner of the room where the doctor and her instructor stood, observing her performance. 

        “Absolutely phenomenal. You got everything right.” He praised, giving her a teethy smile that belonged on a Colgate commercial while a bubble of pride formed in her chest at his praise.

        “Oh thank you, Ms (L/N)!” Lou’s mother smiled as she clutched her hands together.

        “No worries. Here you go.” (Y/N) spoke, handing Lou's mother the papers. “Check out will be on your right when you walk out. There will be some ring pops too, go get yourself a reward for behaving so good today, Lou.” (Y/N) smiled as she rummaged through her cabinet for a sticker.

        She found one and handed it to Lou's open hand. 

        “You were my star patient today, bud! I’ll see you in a few weeks for your next check-up.” (Y/N) smiled.

        “Thank you again.” Lou’s mother smiled as she held Lou’s hand. "What do we say, Lou?"

        “Thank you! Bye bye!” Lou cheered.

        “Fantastic work today. We have one more patient before you can head out, okay?” Doctor Ryan spoke.

        “Yes, sir!” (Y/N) smiled, excited of who she'd be working with next.

        She loved kids and she loved helping them. It made her happy to be able to care for them and help them on their recovery to healthiness and happiness, hence why she's studying to become a pediatrician.

        “They’re a bit on the older side, but we’re really short-staffed at the moment so I need you to take care of them.” Doctor Ryan explained.

        “How old?” she questioned, noticing they were leaving the hospital’s pediatric branch and going to the elevators.

        They both entered the elevator and Doctor Ryan pressed the 4th floor button. The doors closed as (Y/N) held the handle, feeling a little nauseous at being in a closed space with a man. She doesn't mind Doctor Ryan, but she doesn't like being trapped in uncomfortable proximity with a male—just a fear that was installed into her when she was young. Th elevator moved up two floors before the ride finally ended.

        “Well… they’re twenty-two.” The doctor sheepishly smiled.

        “Sir, I’m training to be a pediatrician, not a regular nurse.” (Y/N) stated firmly as the elevator doors opened, allowing them to walk out into the psychiatric branch of the hospital (must to her relief). 

        “Yes, but like I said, we’re short staffed. We just need to you re-evaluate his wounds and do a check-up on his physical health. He’s on suicide watch.” Doctor Ryan explained.

        She opened her mouth to complain before hearing his last words.

        Damn it, suicide watch? I don’t want them dying on my watch. Not only that, but I have experience in that field so I’m decent help for it. She thought. 

        “I… Yes, sir. I’ll get him checked out.” (Y/N) sighed, caving in.

        "Thank you! You know it's been with the shortages of nurses and all, especially for the psychiatric branch." Doctor Ryan sighed out, in relief rather than reluctant-acceptance that (Y/N) did.

        "I understand..." She sighed again.

        Yes, I understand that the psychiatric branch is full of unstable patients with crazy-strength if set off. How do they expect me to hold up on my own against a fight with these guys? (Y/N) thought to herself.

        They walked to the branch's help desk, scurrying through papers before Doctor Ryan made a noise of acknowledgment.

        "Ah-ha! Here you go." He smiled, giving the paper packet to (Y/N).

        (Y/N) grabbed a chair with wheels and moved it behind her, sitting down and reading the information. 

        "Like I said, just quickly re-evaluate his wounds and do a check up on his physical health. If he has any information on why he tried to commit suicide, write it down. It can help us with finding a therapist or at least a hotline for him. I'll go and write a report for Lou's visit, get that off your plate." Doctor Ryan explained, turning and walking away. "It's sad how young these kids are when they think all hope is lost..." he sighed.

        Twenty-two? That's a pretty normal age for suicide. Try eleven, Doc. (Y/N) thought sarcastically. Well, no time to mope about. Let's get this over with and hope for the best. (Y/N) thought, dreading the interaction.

        She wanted to be a pediatrician not only because she liked kids, but because they were much easier than adults. Adults live in a world where they're made to believe their pain is insignificant because elders and children are much more vulnerable to pain and suffering, so adults constantly fight their pain and hide it from others. Adults hide their pain to avoid pity, to avoid the expensive medical bill they don't want to pay. (Y/N)'s morals may be questionable, but if there's anything she believes as a nurse and upcoming-pediatrician, it's that you can't put a price on life. Kids have no shame telling someone if they're in pain, adults act as if they're dishonoring their family's reputation and pride if they tell someone they have a cough.

        Not only that, but she doesn't want to work with adult men. It's been proven that some perverted adult men cause injuries to themselves so they can be in the care of gentle women, who they take overpower and advantage of. Of course, women can do the exact same thing too, but it's more prevalent with males. (Y/N) hates working with adults because she doesn't want to be apart of their sexual fetishes or apart of the statistics.

        (Y/N) read through her patient's information, gathering the details she needs to access the situation:

Patient: Andrew Graves, 22. Room 402. Reason for admission: Jumped from a third-story building and ended up landing on his legs. By miracle, no injury to spine other than minor bruises. Both legs and ankles are shattered, needs multiple surgeries. Stitches on ankles, change bandages every 4-8 hours. Minor concussion and possible amnesia.  Precautions: Patient isn't very cooperative. Use restraints if necessary. Has a sister that is extremely uncooperative and violent, has threatened other nurses. Use extreme caution with patient and sister to prevent any pain or stress that would worsen patient's condition. 

        (Y/N) put the paper packet down on the desk and sighed, shoving her hands into her face and groaning.

        Of course! Not only an unruly patient, but an unruly visitor too? God, if you're real, is this your way of telling me it was a mistake being a pediatrician? (Y/N) thought to herself. Let's just get this damn thing over with, after this, I can go home and rest.

        She walked to a medical supply closet in the staff room and took some bandages and anti-septic cream, along with checking to make sure her stethoscope and mediscope was all there. She grabbed two water bottles from the mini fridge and shoved it into her bag along with two mini-bags of pretzels from the snack cabinet. 

        She shut the staff room's door and locked it, shoving her key and lanyard under her lilac purple nursing scrubs in case some pocket-picker (or someone stupid enough) tries to steal her key. She made sure her bag's strap was secure against her firmly and walked towards room 402.

        (Y/N) stopped at the patient's door to collect her breath. She heard voices inside, only dreading the next few minutes once she realized how angry the voices sounded.

        "Damn it, Andrew! You just had to fuck shit up like you do with everything else, huh?" a girl's voice rang through the room.

        "Isn't this what you wanted? You make no sense..." a boy's voice, Andrew perhaps, sighed.

        "I didn't expect you to take me seriously, dumbass! What if you actually died? You'd leave me all alone to deal with the shit you caused!" the girl shouted.

        "Keep your voice down! And the shit I caused? You're the one that started it all! If it weren't for you, we wouldn't be on the run!" Andrew hissed.

        "Oh, so eating the neighbor was my decision? Is that what you're saying! No, you're the one that fucking said it!" the girl exclaimed.

        "You implied it!" Andrew retorted.

        "I did nothing! But even then, we would've starved in that damn apartment! Is that what you wanted? And you're the one that killed the warden, then the damn lady!" the girl claimed.

        "Hey, the lady was self-defense and you're the one that made me kill the hitman! I killed the warden because you got caught! We would've both been fucked at that point!" Andrew reasoned.

        "WE ARE FUCKED!" the girl screamed.

        "Ashley! Calm down!" Andrew spoke, raising his tone.

        "ME CALM DOWN? HOW CAN I BE CALM AT A TIME LIKE THIS?!" the girl, Ashley screamed, sounding crazy enough to potentially be pulling her hair out.

        "Well you're going to have to! Someone might discover we're on the run!" Andrew hissed through his teeth.        

        "Don't you realize, stupid?! If you died, you would've left me all alone in this shitty world. I can't live without you, Andy..." Ashley muttered.

        "My name isn't Andy, Andy is dead. It's Andrew." Andrew stated firmly.

        "Fuck you, Andrew! I hate Andrew! I want Andy back! At least Andy still liked me!" Ashley shouted, her tone sounded like she was close to breaking down in tears.

        "Ashley, come on... We've gone over this. I like you." Andrew sighed.

        "Yeah right! You tried sleeping with that lady at the apartment complex!" Ashley accused.

        "Damn it, Ashley! I already told you, she tried to kill me so I killed her! What part of that involves sex?" Andrew hissed.

        "I don't want to hear it, you bastard! The second you get a girlfriend, I become invisible to you!" Ashley complained.

        "As if! I was always ditching Julia for you! Even then, you fucking convinced her into breaking up with me!" Andrew huffed.

        "I was weeding out the whores that sprout their legs open! She doesn't deserve someone like you, Andy!" Ashley shouted, then took a deep breath. "I'm your sister, Andy. I know what's best for you! I know who's best for you! She wasn't shit!"

         "You're stressing me out, Ashley..." Andrew groaned, his voice muffled (presumably shoving his face into his hands). "I don't want to talk about this... I don't even know how we got on this topic but just shut up about it... We'll leave as soon as I heal up some." 

        "That'll take too long. We can leave now!" Ashley whined.

        "And what? You want me to run on two broken legs? Are you going to carry me?" Andrew spoke, verbally knocking some sense into her. 

        "I-I'll find a damn wheelchair! We'll put you on a wheelchair and run." Ashley spoke, suddenly not sounding as confident and aggressive as she was previously. 

        "Run where? There's no where we can go! Mom doesn't want us and we can't just live on the streets forever. This is a good opportunity for us to rest here and think about our next move." Andrew explained.

        "Says you. You get a nice bed and food provided to you while I'll be stuck outside, cold and alone while I rot away outside." Ashley snapped, exaggerating her voice on the last bit.

        "I'm sure you'll figure something out. You have a way with getting what you want." Andrew huffed.

        "Not all the time..." Ashley muttered. "I still think we should take a wheelchair and-"

        "Leave, Ashley. Visiting time is over." Andrew spoke firmly.

        "But-" Ashley started, but was cut off.

        "No buts, Ashley. Leave... You're just making me feel worse..." Andrew sighed in frustration.

        Good, stand your ground against her. I don't know their full story, but Ashley sounds really manipulative to me, but Andrew definitely doesn't sound like a victim either... (Y/N) thought to herself. 

        "Fine, I'll leave and I'll never come back! You can't live without me, Andy!" Ashley shouted before walking towards the door.

        Sounds like a threat... (Y/N) thought. 

        Damn it, she's infuriating. As expected of her though... Andrew thought to himself.

        (Y/N) realized that Ashley was coming her way. She didn't want to seem nosey so she quickly ran to an open hospital room, making sure to redirect her weight to her legs so her footsteps wouldn't make noise in case it alerted Ashley. She heard Andrew's door open before slamming close, then footsteps walking past the room (Y/N) was in.

        (Y/N) held close to the wall where the door was, hiding herself in case Ashley peeked into the room on her way out. (Y/N) waited a minute after the footsteps vanished, just to be sure that Ashley wasn't on her way back. She walked back to the door before stopping, realizing what the siblings revealed to her.

        They're murderers. Not only that, but cannibals too. They both confessed. I have to be careful about this guy, two broken legs or none, he's dangerous. (Y/N) thought to herself, then held her fist up to the door.

        She gently knocked three times, then opened the door, not caring for a response back. She saw Andrew staring out of the hospital's window (one without bars, (Y/N) believes that's a stupid decision since this is a known suicidal branch on the fourth floor). His reflection showed his eyes closed, his eyebrows pinched in frustration.

        "I said leave, Ash—" Andrew's head turned to look at the nurse and his eyes only hardened, as if seeming more mad at the nurse than at Ashley who ran off.

        Watch it, buddy. I can make your death look like an accident... (Y/N) thought inside of her head, only proving her dislike of caring for adults.

        "Expecting someone else?" (Y/N) spoke, forcing a polite smile on her face. 

        I'd rather not have to try and fight him into restraining him against the bed. She thought. 

        Andrew stayed quiet as he glared at her.

        The previous nurses that entered his room weren't very kind to him, they were old and seemed annoyed to care for their patients. They got an earful from Ashley. Not only that, but they sure were rough with re-doing his bandages, sloppy too. He didn't want to deal with anyone else today, he just wants to go to sleep.

        Maybe a permanent sleep like jumping out of this window... At least I wouldn't hear Ashley complain so much. Andrew thought to himself.

        To be honest, Andrew doesn't exactly remember much. For some reason, he only has memory of the past three months and that's it. All of his memories consisted of being locked in an apartment with little food, to no food, for three months with Ashley, rotting away. Then Ashley had the bright idea to eat the neighbor after breaking into his apartment and seeing him fail a seance to a... demon? As crazy as that sounds.

        Well, she didn't exactly say it, but she placed the thought into Andrew's head then forced Andrew to say it to make it seem like it was his idea. Then she started chopping the neighbor up to eat him, then the warden came and Ashley got caught, which resorted in Andrew having to kill the warden so the warden wouldn't contact any other wardens with his walkie-talkie. Ashley had the bright idea to escape the apartment complex by completing the seance and offering live human. Andrew eventually agreed to it.

        Then they ran from the place and ended up in a lady's apartment. Turns out she whored herself to get food from the wardens, so they used her to escape. While Ashley left to do the seance, Andrew had to hold her hostage so she wouldn't try to call for help from the wardens. He made the mistake of taking his clever away from her neck and letting go of her, but she got ballsy and tried to kill him with a nail gun, resulting in Andrew killing her. Then Ashley came back and started to freak out, saying that Andrew was trying to get in the girls pants (however she came up with that conclusion, Andrew is unsure). 

        They completed the seance by sacrificing a warden and escaped the apartment complex, finding themselves on the run as wanted felons. It was then when Ashley and Andrew got in a fight and Ashley told Andrew to kill himself, to make it easy for her and the police. Andrew was fed up of running and listening to his sister's idiotic (and borderline psychotic) ideas that he actually did jump (to which Ashley brought him here instead of just letting him bleed out, much to his dismay). 

        But before all of those events, everything else is blurry. He has no recollection of himself or his family after all the horrid memories trapped in his head.

        (Y/N) felt a little unsettled under his very judgmental gaze, remembering that he confessed to killing at least two people (possibly even more).

        Is he sizing me up to be his next victim? (Y/N) briefly thought before pushing that thought away. No, he said that they would've starved in their... apartment? What did they mean by that? 

        As much as she wanted to find out, she didn't really feel like wanting to die either. Her college debt would go to her family, and it'd be too bothersome to die. Too much time wasting on dying (she'd be too impatient to die slowly). 

        “I’m a student studying nursing, please call me (Y/N) despite the name tag.” (Y/N) smiled. 

        I'd rather not tell him I'm studying pediatric nursing. I don't want him freaking out or anything since I'm technically out of my field. She thought.

        “They couldn’t bring a real nurse or doctor?” Andrew huffed.

        Great, if she makes any mistakes, he might have to stay here longer than necessary, and Andrew does not want that.

        “Unfortunately, we’re short-staffed at the moment. No one here likes working the night shift.” (Y/N) sighed. “But, luckily for you, I happen to be a very good student. I even dare to say better than some of the other nurses here.” (Y/N) joked, a smile on her face to try and brighten up the murderous aura surrounding Andrew.

        Andrew stared at her in silence, unamused.

        “Tough crowd…” She muttered. “Alright, let’s get this over with first.” (Y/N) spoke, walking closer to Andrew (whose guard only raised even more at this). “How many fingers am I holding up?” she questioned, holding up two fingers.

        “Four.” Andrew huffed, crossing his arms.

        “And now?” she questioned, holding up one.

        “Two.” Andrew answered.

        “Last time.” She commented, holding up two fingers again.

        “Four.” Andrew spoke.

        “Okay, are you thirsty right now?” (Y/N) questioned.

        “I guess…” Andrew muttered.

        “Here.” (Y/N) spoke, digging into her medical bag and grabbing the bottle of water she shoved in there from earlier. “Hungry too?”

        “No.” Andrew answered, resulting in her placing a bag of pretzels and water on his nightstand.

        “They're for later. It’s important not to have them now even though you’re thirsty. Just trust me.” She spoke before continuing her little survey. “Feel any pain anywhere?”

        “My legs.” Andrew spoke, pointing out the obvious in a ‘duh’ tone.

        “Other than there?” (Y/N) added. “Such as a headache? Behind the eyes?” 

        “Both.” Andrew answered.

        “Have you vomited? Do you feel nauseous at the moment?” (Y/N) questioned.

        “Haven’t thrown up, but I feel sick” Andrew admitted.        

        “Have you or your sister noticed any gaps in your memory? From today to a few months or even more?” (Y/N) asked.

        “Yeah, actually…” Andrew muttered.

        (Y/N) took a few steps towards him, basically hovering over him.

        “What the hell are you doing?” he snapped, but didn’t pull away or shrink from her.

        “Calm down. Are your hands clammy?” she questioned.

        “A little...” Andrew muttered, not breaking eye contact from her.

        She broke the eye contact as her eyes swept through his face, looking at his disheveled black hair and electric green eyes, a beautiful combination, she noted. She also noted how pale his skin was along with the sweat running down it.

        “Andrew, open your eyes wide for me, please.” She spoke, reaching into her bag and pulling out a mediscope.

        Andrew complied with a little bit of hesitancy, allowing her to watch as his pupils shrunk from the light. She looked closely at his retinas to make sure there was no tear along with the hydration in his eyes. They did seem a little blurry, she noted.

        “Open your mouth, please.” She requested.

        Andrew sighed but listened as she did. She checked his tonsils, throat lining, tongue coloring, gums, and uvula. 

        He felt awkward having her do all these procedures and asking all these questions, whether it was her job or not. He wouldn’t deny it, she was pretty, prettier the woman at the apartment complex he murdered.

        Wow, nice thinking… Andrew internally scolded himself as he looked away from the girl. Comparing your nurse to a dead girl you killed really isn't a sign of insanity or detachment.

        At least he was self-aware?

        “And real quick, let me look inside your ears, please.” She requested.

        Andrew stood still as she shined the light in his ear, checking through the tiny camera to see if there was any ear infection or something out of the ordinary. Nothing.

        “Last thing.” She spoke, placing her mediscope in her bag and switching it for her stethoscope. 

        “Can I ask why you’re doing this? All these questions and procedures?” Andrew questioned, adverting his eyes from her as she started listening to his heart.

        There was a moment of silence as she focused, looking at her watch as she listened to his pulse.

        It's 102 beats per minute, a bit quick for his age, but it's not too worrying and it can be easily caused by the stress and trauma of his situation, she noted. 

        “Are you telling me the other nurses didn’t do all of this to you?” (Y/N) asked as she responded his question from earlier surprised and a little concerned.

        “Nope.” Andrew replied lazily. 

        “Ugh… elders.” (Y/N) muttered quietly, earning a small smile from Andrew (one he quickly hid with a cough as he adverted her gaze). “They’re supposed to check you for any possible illnesses or worsen conditions. I know you came in here because you jumped a three-story building, but it can be linked to serious health concerns. You can develop future problems we can identify and fix right now if we take the time to look.” She explained.

        “So what did you discover, doc?” Andrew questioned in a monochrome tone (she wasn’t exactly sure if he was making a joke or being serious or even sarcastic).

        “Well, you have internal bleeding.” (Y/N) spoke, not bothering to even try to sugarcoat it or break it to him lightly.

        “What? How bad?” Andrew grimaced, afraid of the reaction Ashley would give when she hears this. 

        “How much blood did you lose when you fell? Were you conscious when you hit the ground?” (Y/N) questioned. 

        “I mean, I was conscious till I hit the ground. After a couple of minutes I woke up and was in pain, understandably so, until my sister dragged me to a hospital. So I was probably out for five maybe ten minutes.” Andrew explained. 

        That’s not good, along with all the other symptoms he’s experiencing. She thought to herself.

        “How about this. On a scale of 1-10, how much blood did you think you lost?” (Y/N) rephrased.

        “Seven, maybe eight.” Andrew huffed. “I don’t really know.” 

        “No worries. It’s not a big deal. They said you shattered the bones in your legs so you’re going to need surgery for it. Luckily they were able to reposition and place back your ankles.” I explained. “You’ll be bedridden in the hospital for a couple days, then you're going home and being bedridden for six months, minimum.” (Y/N) emphasized the last word to show the most importance to it. 

        “Fuck... What about the internal bleeding?” Andrew sighed, dreading the lecture Ashley would give him.

        "For your severity, you'd need surgery. It'd take a couple weeks for you to heal, but your internal bleeding should be healed by the time you're discharged." (Y/N) explained. “Now, bear with me for a second. I’m going to level your legs and it’s going to hurt.” She spoke as she walked to the tall hospital cabinets, taking three soft and limbless pillows from it.

        “Ugh…” Andrew groaned, already dreading that part as she walked back to him.

        “Take a deep breath.” She instructed.

        She waited for Andrew to audibly breathe in. He did what she requested, his chest and shoulders rising (he ignored the shock of pain that came with it, but she noticed and figured it was due to the internal bleeding).

        “Hold it in.” She spoke, then lifted his heavily bandaged legs with one hand (with a bit of struggle) and placed the pillows under him.

        She gently rested his legs onto the pillows and looked at Andrew face, seeing his eyebrows furrowed and his fists clenches tightly.

        “Breathe, darling. You’re all done.” (Y/N) instructed, letting out a deep breath for him to mimic too in case the pain was too much.

        Andrew let go of his breath, regaining control of his lungs after a few manual breaths. 

        “You did so well, my star! Do you want a sticker?” (Y/N) questioned.

        Andrew adverted his eyes from her smile, his face red from what he wants to be because of holding his breath, but it was instead caused by her praise and pet names (or maybe both).

        “No…?” Andrew muttered.

        “Mm. What color do you want? Gold, pink, blue, red, purple, or gray?” she questioned.

        “Why do you have a gray star?” he questioned.

        “Good choice!” (Y/N) spoke, rummaging through her bag for her stickers. 

        She found them and searched for a gray star, finding one and undoing the paper back. She sticked it on Andrew’s chest, clothed with the blue hospital gown. 

        “Tah-dah! You were my star patient today!” (Y/N) beamed. 

        “Are you done?” Andrew sighed dully, adverting his eyes to hide his blush.

        “Nope! I have to redo your bandages. This’ll also hurt, but I’ll be gentle with you.” (Y/N) explained.

        “Hurry up.” Andrew huffed. 

        “So soon to have me leave, huh?” she sighed jokingly. “Hurts my heart.” 

        She reached into her bag and grabbed bandages, gauze, and anti-septic cream. 

        “So, Andrew. Kinda curious, what made you jump?” (Y/N) questioned, remembering her superior's words as she started undoing Andrew’s bandages on his legs.

        “Why would you need to know that?” Andrew growled, becoming defensive.

        Ah, I pissed him off. But this is important information for his health, murderer or not. (Y/N) thought to herself.

        “You know, I tried killing myself too. I was eleven. Failed multiple times. But you had the courage to jump. I didn’t do that.” She explained.

        “How’d you try?” Andrew questioned, a spark of curiosity in him.

        “I’m not giving you any ideas, mister.” (Y/N) laughed, giving him a playful yet stern expression before switching her gaze to study the stitching on his ankles. “But, I gave up and made an oath to never harm myself in that way again because it really affects the people you care about. Your sister was probably very sad when you jumped.” 

        At least the surgeons did that good, so no worries there. Luckily the swelling is just from the breakage and replacement of bones, so his stitches aren’t infected. She thought to herself. But let’s add anti-septic cream just to be safe.

        "How long ago was that?" Andrew questioned, ignoring her comment about his sister.

        "Ten years ago." She hummed.

        She must be around the same age as me. Andrew thought.

        “Did it get better?” Andrew questioned as (Y/N) applied the cold cream onto his wounds.

        The temperature of the medicine barely even got a reaction from Andrew since he was so focused on the conversation they were having. 

        “At the beginning? Of course not, in fact it spiraled downhill from there. Overtime I started picking myself up and it helped. It helps to surround yourself with people who cared about you. And if you have no one who cares, then learn to care for yourself. Your confidence in yourself will attract others to you.” (Y/N) explained. "We humans need to be there for each other, you know? We're social creatures after all."

        “Hm.” Andrew hummed in acknowledgement, not really paying attention to her optimistic speech.        

        It's not like he had anyone to turn to. He remembers his girlfriend breaking up with him on the phone while he was rotting away in his apartment. Ashley had verbally abused her enough that she didn't want to see him or Ashley anymore. He doesn't have any other family than his parents who rejected him because "he and Ashley were too close and had to learn independence" his mother said on the phone during their last phone calls in quarantine. He's not exactly sure what she meant by it (especially with his memory gone), but so far all Ashley's done is pissed him off these past months he's remembered, so he really doesn't want to see her again anytime soon. He doesn't remember if he has friends or not either.

        “Andrew, what do you like to do? What do you do in your free time?” (Y/N) questioned.

        Andrew thought about her question. The three months that he remembers, all he did was sleep, starve, and watch TV (all with Ashley). He read books from his parents room out of boredom before losing the energy to even try and keep acting like he was actually remembering the plot—it took too much energy remembering the events that happened in the book. 

        When Ashley and Andrew did talk to each other during the time, it was to bicker and complain to each other about food and the other’s company (Ashley always started it).

        “I don’t have any… None that I remember at least.” Andrew admitted.

        “Don’t stress it. Your concussion could be affecting your ability to remember. We’ll find some new hobbies for you.” (Y/N) reassured. “Maybe books, card games, video games? I’ll find something.” She spoke as she redid the bandages on his ankles.

        “Why are you even bothering?” Andrew sighed. “After some months I’ll be gone.” He pointed out.

        “Yeah, but I wouldn’t want you to be bored the entire time. Personally, I would hate being bedridden with nothing to do.” (Y/N) admitted.

        What a sympathetic girl... Andrew thought.

        “Whatever…” Andrew muttered, crossing his arms. 

        “Voilà! Whaddya think?” she questioned.

        “It’s tight…” Andrew admitted, it didn't hurt much, but it did feel a bit annoying.

        “That’s to keep your ankles in place. Your bandages aren’t bleeding much, so you should be ready for casting. I’ll leave a note for that.” She explained. “Any requests before I go?” (Y/N) questioned.

        “You’re leaving?” Andrew questioned, sitting up and straightening his back before cringing at the pain shooting up his legs (and the pathetic tone in his voice).

        “Yeah, my shifts almost over...” She paused and checked her watch. “It’s actually been over for 20 minutes now.” 

        Andrew muttered something under his breath, adverting his eyes as he looked away from her.

        “You’re coming back tomorrow, right?” Andrew questioned.

        “Ah… I don’t know. I don’t work in this branch, I work with kids in the pediatric branch.” (Y/N) smiled nervously.

        I hope I’m not upsetting him. She thought to herself.

        She tolerated Andrew’s company, for a man of course. It was surprisingly refreshing and the atmosphere is much more comfortable than it was when she first entered.

        Andrew huffed, looking back at her.

        “I like you better than the other nurses.” He admitted, crossing his arms and looking away again so she wouldn’t notice his red face.

        “Aw. I’m sure you’ll enjoy Penelope tomorrow, she’s a wonderful nurse!” (Y/N) smiled. “I’ll make sure to visit you tomorrow before I leave work and check in on you, make sure you’re still intact and dandy, okay?” she smiled.

        It’s like I’m making a promise to a child. She thought to herself. 

        Her thoughts were backed up by the spark in his eyes as he looked back at the nurse.

        “Okay…” he muttered, pushing down the urge to smile.

        “I’ll see you later, star!” she smiled, referring to his sticker on his chest. “Door open or closed?” she questioned.

        “Closed.” Andrew answered.

        “Alrighty! Click the button on the side of your bed if you need a nurse or need to ask something. In an hour you can drink a little bit of the water, but hold off on the pretzels until tomorrow. Make sure you get good sleep! Body’s natural way of healing.” She explained, flashing him a smile. “Goodnight, Andrew.” 

        She closed the door and took a silent breath in.

        That went surprisingly well… She thought to herself.

        She walked back to the staff room and unlocked the door, opening it to find Ruby, an old and stern nurse who worked day shift.

        “You’re clocking out late.” Ruby gruffed. “Heard they were understaffed tonight.”

        “Ah, yes. I had to go to patient 402’s room.” She smiled politely despite it being very draining to.

        It's hard acting so happy all the time with her patients and coworkers. She liked work, but her face wasn't friendly, so she had to resort to smiling a lot (as annoying as it was for her).

        “The moody patient with the psycho sister? How’d that go?” Ruby questioned.

        “How did you know?” (Y/N) questioned, sparing her a glance.

        Ruby’s day shift, so she comes in at 7 am and leaves at 7 PM. How would she knows about Andrew? she thought to herself.

        “Penelope was in near tears when she clocked out. Told me how closed off the boy was and the sister was screaming and yelling at Penelope, talking about how she’s trying to steal her brother away from her—something like that…” Ruby muttered the last part to herself.

        Psycho sister indeed. (Y/N) thought to herself.

        “The girl wasn’t in there when I entered. The boy is reserved at first, but if you keep talking to him he’ll respond. Just be patient.” She spoke, shoving her leftover medical supplies into the supply closet.

        “I swear, Penelope gets too butt-hurt about these patients. And I don’t understand how you can deal with those kids, snotty and crying all the time.” Ruby complained as (Y/N) snagged a computer seat and sat down, typing up her report on Andrew Graves condition.

        “The kids are just scared. Give them a lollipop and it’s like Christmas.” She laughed, straining a smile. “Good talk rubes, but I’m going to head out.”

        “See you tomorrow.” Ruby responded lazily.

        “See ya. Good luck on your shift.” (Y/N) spoke.

        She walked out of the staff room and locked the door behind her, taking the elevator to the first floor. She exited the elevator and walked out of the hospital lobby, walking to the staff parking lot to her car. She grabbed her keys from her scrubs pockets and unlocked her car, opening the door and buckling her seatbelt before driving off.

        The drive is longer than she likes from her apartment but at least her thoughts plagued her so she didn’t have to be bored.

        A murderer and a cannibal? Not one but two! Should I call the police? I mean, they must have reasons. They were locked in an apartment and resorted to eating their neighbor? Why would they be locked in an apartment? I’m sure if they went to the police they would’ve been understanding, I mean it was life or death and one dead is better than two. What am I thinking? I shouldn’t be thinking that at all, I’m a nurse. (Y/N) thought. 

        “Ugh…” She groaned. 

        She made it to her apartment and unlocked her door, opening it and closing it behind her, making sure it was locked before she walked into the kitchen.

        I don’t feel like cooking, I don’t have the time for it anyways. She thought, opening her freezer. 

        She grabbed a quick microwaveable meal and put it in the microwave, setting it at the box’s desired time before walking away and grabbing her computer.

        She checked her emails then started her medical essay for pneumonia and bronchitis. The microwave ringed and she grabbed her food and some drink, walking back her to computer and continuing her work while eating.

        She finished her dinner and the final touches of her essay before sending it her college professors at her university. She stood up and stretched, walking to the kitchen and cleaning her dirty dishes before going to her room and picking out a nightgown. She walked to her shower and undressed, washing her hair and allowing the water to relax her nerves and sore legs from standing all day.

        Check-ups tomorrow should be Rachael Gardener and Joseph Stall. I'll meet a new patient, Lily Wells, since she's switching healthcare. After that, it's walk-in's from there. I'll pay a visit to Andrew thirty minutes before my shift ends and check up on Hailey. (Y/N) thought in her head. 

        Andrew. He's sure a special case at the moment. Nurses are going to have to keep a watchful eye on him to ensure his condition doesn't worsen or cause any harm to himself or others. (Y/N) thought. Two broken open-fracture ankles and complete fractures in his legs. Just thinking of that pain makes me squirm. She cringed, stopping herself from washing her hair to shake the imaginary chills she created.

        Not to mention his internal bleeding from his brain, his concussion from his fall must've caused that. Luckily he doesn't have any other injuries otherwise I'm pretty sure he would've been dead. She thought as she stepped out of the shower, drying her hair and body.

        I should find some video games and books to keep him from being bored. I need to get some new books for Hailey to read too, my bookshelf is going dry for her. She thought as she started getting dressed. I'll also do a quick google search of Andrew and Ashley, get some information out of their situation (or at least the most of it).

        .

        .

        Andrew woke up and stared out of his window blankly, watching as people walked in and out of the hospital, some in wheelchairs and some in casts. In a while, that'll be him leaving this place.

        Or with the pace Ashley wants, tomorrow. Andrew thought, a frustrated huff escaping his mouth. 

        Who could blame him? He tries to kill himself and all of a sudden he lost basically all of his memory from when he was born to three months ago, that's almost twenty-two years of his life lost in just a flash!

        Ashley told me to jump too. I shouldn't have listened to her and her damn rants, it would've caused so much less trouble, but I was going insane listening to her. Andrew thought. 

        Andrew's been wishing a lot of things lately. He's been wishing he could remember everything about himself, wished he never drank that supposed contaminated water that got him locked in the apartment which got him here in the first place, and wished he could get up and walk out of here.

        Ashley visited him earlier. Something in him was happy to see his sister, but dread filled his stomach at seeing her walk into the room.

        "Thought you said you weren't ever coming back?" Andrew spoke, recalling what Ashley said yesterday.

        "I might've been a bit hasty... and inconsiderate" Ashley huffed, crossing her arms and glaring at Andrew. "I found a hotel nearby. I'm staying there until you get better."

        "How will you pay for it?" Andrew questioned.

        "Easy! I'll just kill people and take their wallets!" Ashley beamed, getting an glare sent her way.

        "Don't do that, idiot. You'll get caught easily without me." Andrew sighed, already finding himself frustrated at their conversation so early in.

        "Well, I could stay here! I'll stay in the bathroom when the nurses are in the room. I can keep you company and sleep in the same bed as you as we used to." Ashley teased.

        "I have two broken legs, remember?" Andrew pointed out.

        "I'll be extra careful." Ashley smiled, as he looked at her unamused. "Hmph! Be that way!" Ashley huffed, giving attitude as she crossed her arms. "Was it lonely without me last night? Did you have any nightmares?" Ashley questioned, her tone teasing with a hint of suggestion.

        Nightmares? About what? Andrew thought. And what's with her damn tone?

        He paused as he thought about anything the past three months.

        "No. Why would I have any nightmares?" Andrew questioned

        "Did you hit your head when you fell?" Ashley teased harshly, poking his cheek roughly. "Your nightmares! About that girl we killed back then? What was her name?" 

        "I don't remember." Andrew admitted. "Wait, we killed someone else?!"

        "Wow, you must've actually hit your head hard." Ashley spoke, a little surprised.

        "A nurse said I had a concussion and internal bleeding, so my memory isn't sharp at the moment." Andrew explained, still worrying about who else he's killed in his past.

        "Ugh. That'll only slow us down..." Ashley sighed. "Would you like to know?"

        "Might as well." Andrew sighed.

        "You killed that girl when we were young! She had an asthma attack in a box and it was hilarious!" she cackled.        

        "That doesn't sound funny. She was a kid, wasn't she...?" Andrew murmured.

        That nurse, (Y/N), she works in the pediatric branch. I don't think she'd be happy if she heard that. Andrew thought to himself. Why am I caring about her all of a sudden? I think I really need my brain checked out... hopefully by her... 

        "She had it coming though! She liked you and she was trying to separate the two of us!" Ashley tried to justify, noticing his reaction.

        "Whatever you say, Ashley." Andrew sighed.

        "I don't like this... I miss you, Andy! We were really close! You didn't need a girlfriend because you had me by your side!" Ashley whined. "It's because of one of these slutty nurses, huh? They're just holes for you to stick your dick into! You don't need them like you need me! I'm all you need!" Ashley started shouting.

        Andrew's really starting to think their sibling-ship is bordering to relationship the way Ashley's been acting and saying. 

        Gross... Andrew thought.

        He remembers the downright suggestive comments Ashley spoke in the apartment (and just a few minutes ago), along with the overprotectiveness he's experienced at times with her. Even if, just a bit, if their relationship was that (incest-like), it hasn't gotten physical since he places money that they would've done something while trapped in that apartment for three months. Andrew let out a sigh of relief, glad their relationship hasn't escalated to that point. 

        So there's still a turning point to get out of that. Andrew thought to himself.

        It's simple really, separate from Ashley. 

        That's all he has to do, but with her co-dependency, it won't make it easy. Unless, all he does is reject Ashley's advances towards stepping-up their relationship and trying to escape the hospital.

        "Andy, fucking listen to me!" Ashley shouted into his ear.

        Andrew was snapped out of his thoughts as the world around him spun. Ashley was holding his hair and shaking his head back and forth, creating a headache behind his head and eyes.

        "Ashley, let go! What part of concussion and internal bleeding didn't you understand?!" Andrew shouted, grabbing her hands as he fought them away from his hair.

        He succeeded in pulling her hands away, but she didn't want to let go without locks of hair in her fists.

        "I hate you, Andrew! I hate you! You and this stupid hospital and those stupid damn nurses! I hate it I hate it I HATE IT!" she screamed loudly.

        The hospital door opened and three nurses came in, their hair disheveled and bun's messy from racing down the hallway.

        "Ma'am, calm down. Otherwise I'm going to have to ask you to leave." One of the nurses spoke, their name tag reading Penelope.        

        "DON'T YOU TELL ME TO CALM DOWN, BITCH!" Ashley screamed at the poor woman, her finger jabbed into the nurse's chest. "I bet it's you! Yeah, you! You're the bitch manipulating my brother! I'll fucking kill you!"

        "Ashley!" Andrew sternly shouted, catching her attention long enough for the three nurses to tackle the girl.

        Ashley kicked and screamed as they got her, two nurses dragging her by her legs out of the room as the other nurse ran to go call security to escort her out (and keep her out).

        Andrew watched as all the women crowded out of his room, a little surprised.

        Well, she won't be coming back soon... that was surprisingly easy... Andrew thought to himself. Step one, separate Ashley from me. Complete.

        Ten minutes went by and someone stepped into his open-doored hospital room. It was Penelope, the nurse from earlier (and yesterday). 

        "M-Mr. Graves. Would you allow me to check--?" she was harshly cut off.

        "Get the hell out." Andrew growled, glaring at her with his vibrant green eyes.

        She nodded and quickly turned around, about to leave before he spoke up.

        "Wait." he spoke, effectively stopping the nervous girl as she turned around, fiddling with her hands. "When's that nurse coming back? (Y/N) (L/N)?" Andrew questioned.

        "(Y-Y/N)...? I don't know... She's not in our branch." Penelope muttered sheepishly.

        "Well, find out!" Andrew snarled. "I refuse to accept treatment from anyone else but her!"

        "Okay!" Penelope exclaimed all too quickly (glad to no longer be taking care of Andrew) and ran out of the room.

        He really meant it too. Any time a nurse tried to come into his room, he'd shout and throw anything nearby at them. It was a drastic change from yesterday's silence. Some nurses assumed he was scared as potential memories reappeared in his head, or perhaps he needed a higher dose of pain killers. They regretted entering the room after getting hit by pens and notebooks from the nightstands, he even threw his pillow.

        "I hate working in this damn branch! Where the hell is (Y/N)?" Ruby shouted in the employee's only room, the elder asking for her help from her inferior. 

The first chapter for this is done! This series will also be posted on AO3 and Wattpad! This series won the poll after a close tie, and I'm so glad it did because I was internally rooting for this to win! Don't worry, the other series' will be posted too after this one is completely posted for what I have so far.

Want more Andrew Graves content? Check out the Andrew Graves masterlist!

Inbox is OPEN for questions about the story and new plotlines/ideas, not for request!

Chapters: Current chapter, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, chapter 7, chapter 8, final chapter.

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[catt-leya]

I have an idea for your smutty may! Can you write something for cocky/horny Rick x innocent reader? She's a virgin, but she suprises rick by her dirty mouth.

Prompt 98. X 76.

Innocent (18+) || Rick Grimes

I may have gone a little too far with the innocence, but I just felt like writing something like that (there's no getting around the fact that I think Rick would really go for it) 💅🏼

Trigger: light slapping, dirty talk

Groaning, I straighten up again and look up at the sky.

The sun shines pleasantly on my skin and I direct my gaze back to the meadow in front of me. For a long time, I have collected the flowers on the lawn and woven myself a flower crown with them and now my knees just don't cooperate anymore.

Satisfied, I put the daisies on my head and beam all over my face.

When I was younger and the world was not yet full of walkers, my mom used to braid a crown for me in the field in front of our house and call me her little princess.

Then, when I got older, she showed me how to do it myself and I kept it up, even after she died.

Unfortunately, most of the flowers have already been trampled by people and walkers and I really had to search forever until I found suitable flowers.

Lightly stroking my fingers over the small flowers on my head, I hear the voice of my companion behind me, "What are you doing?"

Still with the bright smile on my lips, I turn to him and look into his blue eyes.

Rick is standing maybe five feet away from me on the lawn as well, looking down into my face from my crown.

I was asked to join Rick on a run today and since I was eager to leave the confines of Alexandria anyway, I said yes right away.

Admittedly, I am also extremely happy to be out on my own with him and feel incredibly safe. That's also why I started weaving the crown. I know that he will take care of me.

Waiting, he looks at me and that's when I realize I haven't answered his question, as I bridge the few feet that separate us and grab his hand to lead him off the lawn and cheerfully say, "I just wanted to braid a crown."

A little hesitantly, Rick slips the fingers of his left hand through mine and follows me to the little cabin we were looking at before Rick went to check something in the bush and I saw the meadow.

When we're not alone, I see the looks the others give us when Rick and I are holding hands because we're not together or something.

Rick and I are just friends, but sometimes I'm still a little surprised that he always goes along with my attempts to hold his hand.

It's kind of my way of showing him my affection and the first time, he seemed surprised, but even then, didn't reprimand me and held my hand, which has now become second nature.

Again and again, he holds my hand in his, although it is always me who still grasps his hand. It is like an unspoken law that I take his left hand so that he, as a right-hander, can reach for his weapon if something should be.

What I particularly like, though, is how much we complement each other.

Rick is quite a bit older than I am, and intrinsically much tougher and colder, whereas I am relatively young and extremely lighthearted.

That's probably why some people are surprised at how well Rick and I get along. But as arrogant and calculating as Rick is with others, the kinder he is to me.

My best friend also sometimes teases me that Rick would have a crush on me and I always deny it, even though my heart always stops for a moment.

Briefly, I look behind me at Rick and bite my lower lip. It's ridiculous that he has a crush on me, but I've clearly fallen for him.

Rick's eyes roam the woods and I let my gaze wander over his body.

His light brown shirt stretches over his shoulders and his pants hang low on his hips. I could even swear they would just slide down if he wasn't wearing his belt.

Because I'm practically turned toward him, I trip over a protruding root and immediately he jerks his head around and grabs me by the waist to keep me steady.

Gratefully, I smile at him, "It's all good. I just wasn't looking at the ground."

I know he's suppressing an eye roll and murmurs, "Figured as much, baby."

Immediately my eyebrows go up, but Rick is already looking back at the cabin, so I pull on his hand to get him to look at me again, but he lets go of me and is already pulling me toward the cabin. That's why I just ask, "Why did you just call me 'baby'?"

If I didn't know him so well, I wouldn't have even noticed, but his shoulders tense briefly before he quickly says, "I didn't."

With all my strength, I brace myself against him and he actually stops.

It seems to be really uncomfortable for him to have given me this nickname, so I want to tease him a bit and chuckle softly, "I heard it exactly."

Some might consider it silly but I take a small step towards him and slip the fingers of my free hand through his belt loops.

Playfully I tug on it and he weakly staggers another step toward me and I cheerfully say, "I'm not saying I think it's bad, Rick. I just want to know how you suddenly came up with it."

I have to put my head far back in my neck to look him in the face, but he keeps avoiding my gaze. Sighing, I rest my chin on his chest and could swear he flinches before finally looking me in the face and muttering, "Just forget it."

I pull my fingers out of the loop and place them on his lower belly. Now I'm certainly not imagining it, he tenses and says hoarsely, "You better get your hand out of there."

Irritated by the change of subject, I don't move an inch and pull my eyebrows together, "What? Why?"

His eyes dart over my face and it looks like he's trying to assess what to say now.

Involuntarily, my hand slips to his belt buckle and he bites his full lower lip before making his decision and whispering, "You want me to show you?"

I can't gauge what he means and just nod.

Gently, he takes my hand resting on his belt buckle and slides it lower until my small hand is on his hard crotch.

I'm unable to break eye contact or pull my hand off his hard cock, though his grip on my hand is so loose I could easily pull away from him.

His normally bright blue eyes are much darker due to the arousal I'm giving him and completely fixated on my face to notice every movement.

Slowly he guides my hand over his crotch and my mouth hangs open as he elicits a guttural sound with my hand.

The surroundings around us fade completely into the background and my head shakes completely as I stroke the denim more firmly of my own accord and he drops his hand with a soft gasp, "You want to finish it, baby?"

Slightly dumbfounded, I just nod again and he growls harshly, "You'll have to say it."

The bra I'm wearing feels way too tight as I take a deep breath and mutter, "I want to jerk you off."

He immediately bites his lower lip again and moans, "I never thought I'd hear you say that, fuck, that's hot."

Impatiently, I break away from him and reach for his hand and he immediately intertwines our fingers together, then pulls me behind him into the cabin he'd secured earlier.

With wobbly legs, I stumble after him as he drops onto the old sofa in the 'living room' and pulls me astride his leg.

Surprised, my eyebrows dart up as my most sensitive spot pleasant hits his thigh.

As impractical as it may be, I totally love to wear dresses and because I didn't expect anything drastic today, I reached for one again this morning.

That's why it's only my panties that offer some resistance and Rick knows that.

Unsure what to do with my hands, I clasp them behind his neck and say softly, "Rick...I..."

Patiently waiting for me to say something, I sigh softly, "You have to show me what to do. I've never done it before. None of it."

Gently, he leans forward, more reminiscent of the man who lets me hold his hand just to have me close. His face hovers in front of mine and he turns his head slightly to breathe a light kiss on my cheek like I did before and whispers, "Have you ever kissed anyone?"

Silently I shake my head and hear him laugh softly and harshly, "You just told me you want to jerk me off, but you've never kissed anyone?"

Embarrassed, I close my eyes and he purrs against my ear, "I didn't think you had such a loose mouth, baby."

He lowers his head a little and his perfect nose brushes my cheek, making me wince pleasantly.

When our eyes meet again, I know that today is going to be intense and I want to reach for my crown on my head with my hands, but before I can even touch it, he grabs my wrist and puts it back on his neck.

Questions I look at him and he murmurs with his eyes firmly fixed on the flowers, "I hope you don't think it's totally weird now, but I like it when you wear the flowers on your beautiful hair. It makes you look even more innocent and delicate than you already are."

I can't help but laugh softly and playfully peck his cheek, "You can admit that my flower crown makes you horny."

He acts annoyed and rolls his eyes before correcting me, "Don't bullshit the flowers. It's the way they highlight your essence that turns me on."

It feels good the way he lightens up the situation and still makes me all chirpy on his leg. That's why I tug lightly on the short hair at the back of his head, "Now will you show me what to do?"

Instead of giving me an answer he pulls me close to him. So close that my thigh presses against his hard crotch and before I can react, his lips are already on mine.

I have absolutely no idea what I'm supposed to do and whether I'm being a total idiot, when Rick whispers to my mouth, "Relax."

With that, his hands slide down my neck thighs to my sparsely covered butt and presses me harder against his leg, eliciting a soft moan and allowing him to explore my mouth.

It's probably not the best kiss Rick has ever had, but I do my best to loosen up in his arms and mirror what he's doing.

Apparently, I'm doing something right, because I can feel his breathing getting bumpy on my sensitive breasts.

Gently I pull his hair and as I do so he moans against my lips and I gush with pride that I am able to elicit these sounds from Rick Grimes.

Slowly I let my body do what he sees fit and I grind against his leg, bumping against his cock again and again.

I can barely think straight as he lightly bites my lower lip and growls, "You do what I tell you, understand?"

Hectically, I nod and stare at his swollen lips as he leans against the back of the couch and whispers, "I want to see you come." My gaze is questioning and he adds, "On my leg."

My eyes dart down to his cock, which is clearly visible through his pants, and I ask hoarsely, "Don't you want me to jerk you off?"

Gently, he takes my chin between his fingers and directs my gaze back to his face, "I'm going to fuck you. You don't have to jerk me off on that one, baby."

The fact that he doesn't ask me, but simply states that he's going to fuck me sends a pleasant shiver down my spine.

I push some of my hair strands behind my ears and then rest my hands on his shoulders to steady myself and then nod, "Okay."

Gently, I start swaying back and forth on his leg, trying to find the right spot I so desperately need.

Cockily, he lets his eyes slide over my body, down to where I'm making his pants wetter and wetter.

Rick has always been a huge temptation to me and didn't expect me to approach him the way I do.

But now that I can properly interpret his gaze, I notice something.

That's why I whimper softly, "You've looked at me like that before."

It's a simple statement that makes his head lift and he blinks several times before asking, "What?"

At that moment, I thrust my hips forward enough to moan softly before I can answer, "I've never understood it, but you've always looked at me like that, like right now."

Gasping, I lean forward and press my lips to his as I say, "I bet you jerked off more often thinking about me."

Jerking his hips up uncontrollably, he emits an animalistic sound, "Fuck, way too often."

I know he wanted me on his leg but my whole body practically craves him and I can't help but whimper, "Fuck me. Be my first."

Immediately I notice his cock on my leg responding to my words and he tenses completely as he moans, "Are you sure? Once I start, I won't stop."

I nod frantically, the crown on my head slipping slightly and he grabs it before I can.

Gently he straightens it and his voice is soft as velvet, "Doesn't change the fact that you're only getting my leg first though."

I hoped that I would make him fuck me immediately, but I see in his face that there is no point in arguing with him.

In his face I see that it has no sense to argue with him and let my movements on him become more violent.

My eyes are glued to him as his cheeks are flushed and his hair sticks out in all directions due to my hands.

He's never looked more beautiful.

With fingers trembling with desire, my hands slide to his chest and I undo the buttons of his shirt and when my palms finally touch his warm, broad chest everything inside me tightens.

I can barely see sharply and am about to climax when I hear the groan of a walker from outside.

He must have heard us and is scratching at the door.

Panicked, I tear my eyes open and am about to push off Rick when he grabs me by the waist and continues to navigate me on his leg, "I didn't say anything about stopping."

I stare at him, "But outside...there could be more."

Amused, he raises his eyebrow and purrs, "Then I guess you'll have to keep it down, baby. Either you keep going or I won't fuck you and then jerk off to your sweet sight again. You decide."

I don't even have to think for a second and press a hand over my mouth as a precaution to stifle my moan, but Rick pulls it away from me and pushes me down to him by the back of my head until my lips are on his neck and he's muffling my whimpers.

Again and again, he runs his hand through my hair, praising me for how compliant I am.

How beautiful and horny I am just for him.

How I need him and how much he wants me.

The walker behind the door fades completely into the background and I bite down hard on Rick's neck as the tension in my stomach releases and I come shaking and gasping on Rick's thighs.

It feels like I'm melting in his arms and I collapse weakly in his arms. My legs feel like they're made of rubber and I'm high on Rick's scent enveloping me.

I can't run another step, I'm sure of it, pressing me closer to him as his hands move to my butt and he whispers, "Good girl."

Gently I start sucking on his neck and his grip tightens, "You know I'm holding back from fucking you over this kitchen counter, don't push your luck."

My heart hammers in my chest as I lick over the hickey now glowing on his neck and whisper, "Don't hold back."

It takes maybe a second for him to realize what I just said before he pushes me onto his hip and effortlessly stands up with me.

I quickly wrap my arms around his neck and let him carry me to the kitchen counter.

With each step, his hard cock rubs against my dripping wet center and he bites down hard on his lower lip to keep himself somewhat under control.

Briefly he sets me down on the floor, then quickly turns me around and pushes me down on the kitchen counter in his fluid motion.

My nipples, already hard anyway and clearly stale under the thin dress, almost hurt as I lie with my upper body on the cold counter.

For a brief moment, I remember the walker outside the door again and am much more relaxed because I don't hear him anymore and he must have moved on.

I cross my hands under my face and lie down on them so that I can see Rick out of the corner of my eye.

His eyes are literally glued to my ass and he's slowly pulling the thin dress to my waist now before he looks me in the face and asks, "How hard do you want it?"

Waiting, I push my ass towards him and whisper lasciviously, "Just because I'm a virgin doesn't mean I can't take it hard. Rick, hit me."

Gasping, he closes his eyes and braces himself left and right next to my hip, "You act so innocent and yet you're so fucking depraved."

Instead of answering him, I press my butt off his twitching cock and gasp, "Fuck, I've wanted you to take me for so long I can't see straight. Rick, every time I think about what it would be like to have your cock inside me instead of my fingers, when I do it to myself and dream about you being there. Please make my dream come true. Please."

Gently, he pulls down my panties and runs his palm over my ass before he lunges a little and complies with my request and slaps me.

My whole body jerks forward and I groan loudly.

Again, he lunges and slaps me on my other butt cheek and hisses, "You can really act like a whore."

It feels kind of dirty that I'm so turned on by him calling me that, but the answer slips easily from my lips, "I'm your whore."

I close my eyes and enjoy the sound of him undoing his belt and murmuring, "I can get used to having your bare ass in front of my cock."

My heart tightens at his words because it sounds like a promise of something longer and just emit a 'please' before he presses his tip lightly against me and I give in.

His knuckles around the kitchen counter next to me turn white as he hisses, "Fuck, you're wet."

Unable to do anything productive, I just whimper another 'please' and don't care how pathetic and submissive it makes me sound.

All I want to do is feel Rick inside me and I almost completely snap when he asks seriously, "Are you sure?"

Impatiently, I look back over my shoulder at him and hiss, "Damn it, Rick. Yes, I want you."

Far too gently, he pushes my legs even further apart before slowly entering me.

The feeling of having his big twitching cock inside me and being stretched by him is incredible.

As good as it feels, it's still unfamiliar to me and I could kiss him right back when he asks in a clenched voice, "Are you okay?"

Groaning, I nod and my mouth hangs wide open as he pulls back a little and enters me a little harder this time.

I hear his rasping breath and whimper softly at his next thrust, "I want to touch you. Take me from the front."

His big warm hands settle on my hips and in one fluid motion he spins me around to face him and slides back inside me as he pushes my ass a little on the counter.

I immediately push his shirt off his shoulders and dig my fingernails into his shoulder blades.

The vein on his neck stands out clearly and his whole face looks like he's holding back. That's why I gasp, "Harder."

Immediately, his lips settle on my mouth and his cock penetrates me deep and hard, making my insides tighten and I wrap my arms around his neck.

His beard scrapes across my chin and the hand that is not holding my dress up slides between us. The first contact with his hand already brings me to my climax and without warning my muscles contract around him.

Rick's hand grabs my chin and pushes my head back enough for him to push his tongue deep into my mouth and I pull hard on his hair.

Softly he mumbles against my lips, "Do you want me to come inside you? Do you want me to mark you as mine, baby?"

I quickly cross my legs behind his back and pull him close, "Do it."

It only takes him two more thrusts before he gives me everything he's got.

We're both sweating and clinging to each other, but I've never been so happy in my life as I am at this moment, looking into Rick's eyes as he pulls out of me and gently reaches for the flowers to arrange them on my head.

Silently, we look at each other before he reaches for my hand and intertwines our fingers. A smile forms on my lips and I ask him softly, "Did you like it?"

Surprised, he looks at me and replies harshly, "I've been dreaming about it for months and it was better than anything I imagined."

He then leans forward slightly and kisses me lovingly on the nose, "I hope it doesn't just last that one time."

@positive-squid @hail-yourselves @mrsxreeves

[sukirichi]

— just the two of us

request: I almost read all of your jujutsu kaisen writings and I love it. Your writing is really good! I do not know if a request about a fics🥞 about satoru gojo who is really in love and not very possessive with an oblivious reader. It will be fun to see Satoru try to flirt with her and she doesn't get it🤣

pairings: gojo x oblivious! reader

notes: THIS IDEA IS SO CUTEEE I absolutely loved every second of writing it! thank you for the request and I hope you like this! 🥞 breakfast has been served!

word count: 3.3k

warnings: none, other than this is unedited and written humorously rather than seriously~

masterlist !

Gojo doesn’t know whether he’s lucky – or completely cursed – over the fact you’ve got no idea he’s so in love with you.

It’s a bright sunny morning, perfect for outdoor training, and he walks with you all the way to school with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. You stretch your arms out in the sky to bask in the morning glow and warmth of the sun, sleeves pushed up to your forearms to “get that vitamin D.”

Satoru snickers at your statement, because you’d totally be getting a different kind of Vitamin D if only you’d notice him. Sometimes he wonders, if maybe you’d inherited the Six Eyes instead of him, would you finally be able to see him – or would you still remain unaware?

He doesn’t even know where it began. A year ago, Yaga introduced you as the newest staff member. You’d been so fidgety and nervous then, unsure of what to do and worried if maybe the kids wouldn’t love. They did, of course, how could they not. Not only were you extremely fun to be with, you’re also caring, fretting and even crying whenever one of the students got injured over a mission.

Shoko reminds you all the time that this should be normal for you by now, but you always cry every time, sobbing that they’re still only kids and should be out having fun.

Yeah, maybe that’s where it began. Your kindness struck a chord in Satoru’s heart, and before he knew it, he was falling for you. Hard. Next thing you know, he shows up five minutes before you leave for work, mock-saluting you before inviting you to breakfast. He does this every damn day, and you still don’t get a single thing.

“That café was really good,” you muse, fingers stretching outwards and giggling as the sun peeks through the spaces. Satoru sighs beside you, wanting nothing more than to slip his fingers through those softer ones. “We should go back there sometime. Maybe even take the kids with us this weekend so we can all have breakfast together!”

Satoru masks a snicker with a cough. It reminds him of the time Megumi called you mom and dad by accident, to which you happily responded with before tackling the boy in hugs, while the strongest jujutsu sorcerer only flushed in embarrassment.

Him being him though, Satoru played it off cool, flipping his hair before striking a pose. “Huh, a dad?” he smirks, “The only person who gets to call me daddy would be no one else but Y/N.”

The raven haired first year student immediately recoils in disgust. Meanwhile, the innuendo flies straight through you, and you peer up at him innocently with your head tilted to the side. “Daddy? Why would I call you my dad? My father is still alive and well, and I don’t see you marrying my mom or anything,” Just as Megumi nearly howls in laughter – another evidence that you’re really something else to get the usually stoic boy to lose his composure like that – you snap your fingers, the light bulb above your head practically shining. “Oh, I get it! You prefer younger women and you want them to call you that! Kind of like the hype for onii-chan nowadays.”

Hopeless, Satoru wants to say, you’re absolutely, utterly hopeless.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Satoru shrugs nonchalantly, sending a smirk your way. It usually drives everyone crazy, but you only smile back up at him in the same way you smile with everyone, and he tries his best to not show his shoulders are deflating. Nevertheless, he doesn’t give up. “How about you and I go out somewhere this weekend? The movies, perhaps?”

Say yes, say yes – please say yes.

Really though, he’s waiting for that ‘no’ already. Satoru knows you always go out of town during the weekends to visit your family in the countryside, only coming back on Monday the next week with a basket of fruits and traditional goods that isn’t so easy to find in the city.

But then you clasp your hands together in excitement, lashes fluttering delicately as you beam up at him. “Really? You’d like to go to the movies with me?”

“Of course I would,” Satoru tries not to stutter, hiding the fact that he’s completely taken aback. He’s the Gojo Satoru for heaven’s sake, he shouldn’t be this affected by anyone’s presence. “What makes you think I wouldn’t want to?”

“Oh, nothing, I just thought you were busy. This Saturday, then?”

Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap, it’s actually happening – his mind was barely functioning at this point, and he even slapped his cheeks to snap him back to life. “I thought there was a fly,” he lied with a chuckle, “But yeah, Saturday. I’ll pick you up?”

“Yeah, sure!”

Satoru wouldn’t stop smiling the whole way to the school. Even when Yuuji had face planted into the ground and Megumi sprained his ankle from training, he wasn’t able to get rid of the ridiculously big smile that stretched across his lips. He’s floating in cloud nine, flowers erupting from his ears and heart-shaped emojis bursting in his background.

“Well, you look creepy,” Shoko commented in the faculty room the moment you excused yourself, “Did you land a date with her or something?”

“That I did,” he stated proudly, even banging his fist on his chest like a deranged form of King Kong.

“I can only hope Y/N makes it out alive,” Nanami announces from behind the newspaper he’s reading, legs crossed over another before he peeks above the paper, narrowed eyes dead set on the blindfolded man. “Don’t be too wild with her, Satoru. She’s a gentle soul despite being a sorcerer – I humbly suggest you don’t mess with her feelings.”

“Are you kidding me? She’s the one messing with my feelings by being so fucking cute all the time!”

“Who’s cute?”

Shoko nearly spits out her coffee the moment you enter, glancing around the room and sitting down next to a shock-still Satoru. Nanami only huffs in his seat with a shake of his head. It doesn’t take long before Satoru regains his confidence and recovers from his shock – he’s turned to you with his torso completely facing your way.

You bask in the attention, mimicking the gesture until your faces are mere inches from one another. The fact you’re so responsive and attentive to him yet still painfully naïve strikes a mental war of himself debating whether he wants to kiss you or knock your head upside down. Satoru chooses neither options as he leans closer, his smile growing wider when you don’t pull away, and he doesn’t stop moving until his lips are right beside the shell of your ear.

“You’re cute.”

Shoko shudders at the same time Nanami just gives up on everything, folding his paper and lying that he’s got someplace to go with Ichiji. Satoru patiently waits for your reaction; for you to crumble this time around.

You’re silent for a moment, brows almost right across each other when you register his words. Satoru ends up holding his breath for your next words, wondering: is this it? will she finally understand what I feel for her now?

Even Shoko ends up sitting at the edge of her seat, silently watching the exchange with interest barely hidden in her sparkling eyes. Satoru watches as your lips open, his eyes transfixed on the way the soft flesh moves. They tilt upwards, revealing a set of a wide smile – the smile he can never get enough of. “Thank you!” you giggle at his compliment, “You and Shoko are very cute too! And the kids too, especially Toge! Not that I’m saying he’s my favourite—”

“He’s definitely your favourite student,” snorts Shoko who is ignoring the way Satoru turns completely gray beside you.

It turns out you still haven’t figured it out after all.

“The kids this – the kids that,” the tall, lanky man whines, his head falling back on the back of the leather couch. He looks so utterly defeated you can’t help but lean over him to check if he’s okay, but Satoru pouts and hides his face under his uniform instead. “Why can it never be just the two of us?”

“Sorry, what did you say?”

This time, you’ve kneeled on the couch to hover him. You even pluck one side of his blindfold off to see how he’s doing, and suddenly thankful you can’t see the way his cheeks are absolutely flaming right now. 

“Nothing,” he assures, his smile hidden behind his shirt. You look absolutely adorable hovering over him like that – eyes wide and lips pouty – what he wouldn’t give to kiss those lips right now, but it isn’t the right time, and Satoru just needs to find a better way to tell you how he feels. “It’s nothing.”

It’s absolutely not nothing.

Saturday couldn’t come faster.

Satoru finds himself willing time to go faster. Once the awaited day finally comes, he wastes no time in choosing his best outfit; an oversized black shirt tucked into black skinny jeans before styling his hair up the way he likes.

He winks at his reflection in the mirror, going ooh and aah at how hot he looks. It’s another reason why he can’t comprehend why you don’t like him yet, when, uhm, he knows he looks damn good? He’s pretty funny too – and his strength and power is already a no-brainer. Satoru can’t wrap his head around any possible reason why you wouldn’t like him; it’s basically a life or death mission at this point.

With that end goal in his mind and a spritz of perfume later, Satoru sashays out his apartment. Even though it’s already dark outside and he spent the whole day walking back and forth in his room trying to come up with ways to confess to you, he acts coolly all the way to your apartment.

This time around, he’s more than confident. He’s going to have you wrapped around his pretty little finger, “Wow,” is the first thing he says, pulling his blindfold down just to look at you.

Satoru feels blessed in that exact moment to witness how the heavens took their time with you, creating only the best out of the best and birthing the most magnificent person ever. Suddenly, he grows an urge to run to the countryside and thank your parents for going funky one night and creating you, because you’re an absolutely magnificent gift and it really baffles him how you’re real.

“Wow,” he repeats again, and you chuckle when he shakes his head. “You look beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you look him up and down, smiling in satisfaction. “You look very handsome yourself.”

Satoru’s been called handsome a million times before that it’s gotten too much in his head already, but hearing it come from your lips hits different. If he was excited before, it’s nothing compared to what he feels now when you loop your arm through his, dangling off his arm like you were a lover.

He knows it’s not real and this is probably just a friendly date for you – something he intends to clear up later – but it doesn’t stop him from puffing his chest up a bit, almost as if bragging to everyone around you that he was the one you’re with, and that he was the one you’re going to the movies with.

All your babbles about everything goes straight into one ear and out the other. He wants to listen to you, he really does, but he’s so intoxicated with your voice that he just ends up nodding at everything you say; his attention mostly on how sweet you sound and smell.

His feelings only intensify a hundred times more when you finally make it to the theatre. Not only is it dark, but you’re sitting right next to him, arms and thighs brushing against each other. He takes note of every little movement you make, smiling to himself when you don’t pull away from his thigh flush against yours.

In this close proximity, your perfume overwhelms his senses. He finds himself leaning closer just to get a little more taste of it, his arm resting on the armrest beside him and placing his cheek on his open palm.

He doesn’t even know what the movie is about. All he can see, hear, feel and recognize is you – nothing and no one but you. Just as he wanted, it’s just the two of you.

Satoru reaches out to the bowl of popcorn in his lap to distract himself from the need of kissing you already. He was so smug that he’s on this date with you; now he feels like the world is laughing and mocking at him because you’re so close yet so far away. The last thing he wants is to say something weird and have you running for the hills. It’s clear you don’t like him, after all.

You end up reaching for it the same time he does, making your fingers brush. It sends a jolt of electricity down his spine and he immediately retracts it.

Looking up at him with an apologetic smile, Satoru knows he’s messed up. “I’m sorry,” you blurt out, raising your hands in surrender with a nervous chuckle. “I should’ve gotten my own bowl instead.”

Satoru stares at you through his blindfold. You’re close enough that he can count your lashes – both top and bottom row – and he’s so stupefied at this point that he just says the first thing that comes to his mind; absolutely anything just to get your attention. “Cold,” he shows you his hand, “I’m cold.”

“Oh,” you nod and slip your fingers through his. Satoru nearly gasps at how electrifying the sensation is from having your smaller, softer fingers collide with his, your hands fitting perfectly in his bigger, calloused ones. Then, you close your intertwined hands and smush your cheek with it to transfer your heat – completely unaware that Satoru feels like he’s floating in his own Infinite Void right now. “Feel warmer now?”

“Yes,” he replies. “Extremely.”

Something beast-like wakes within him after that. Now that he knows you don’t mind touching him at all, Satoru can’t help but want to take out all his playing cards and just go fuck it. So he does – and he might regret, he might not – who cares? It’s just the two of you, and you’re the only one he ever cares about this much that he’d pretty much let you do anything at this point.

“You know,” Satoru begins, shifting until your joined hands are resting on top of his chest. His heart is just about ready to burst through its confines at this moment, but he holds back. It’s now or never. “Shoko and Nanami are annoyed that I talk about you all the time.”

Your eyes widen at his statement. “Really? Do you talk badly about me or something?”

“No,” he nearly groans in frustration, “You’re really pretty and cool. You’re amazing during missions, too, when you fight, it’s like I’m witnessing a warrior princess. So cool.”

This makes you laugh until the person sitting behind you rudely shushes you. You bow your head in apology, turning to Satoru with a softer smile this time; one that looks reserved and private compared to your big grins. “Oh, no,” he closes his eyes even behind his blindfold, “Don’t smile at me like that. I don’t think I’ll still be cool if I end up stuttering over my words.”

“Satoru!” you whisper-hiss, although your chest is filled with so much giddiness too that you’ve both forgotten about the movie; unaware that the entire theatre was crying over the main character’s friend’s death. “What are you going on about?”

He wants to laugh so damn hard. He thought confessing his feelings for you would end up in a pitiful heartbreak that you’d be weirded out and push him away. For a moment, he forgets it’s you, and that nothing is ever difficult or painful with you – other than, of course, you being oblivious, but that isn’t something he can’t fix. He’ll get you on the train one way or another.

“I have a confession.”

“Yeah?”

“I was practicing how to ask you out for a whole hour in the mirror,” Satoru whispers, careful to not ruin the melancholic mood of theatre. It doesn’t even surprise him that his world is filled with nothing but sunshine even if the world around you has descended into grief and loneliness. “I also called Nanami on first date tips.”

“Nanami?” you echo with a gasp, “Why Nanami?”

“Because he’s married, that’s why. Mans know some tips for sure.”

“Wait, so,” you chuckle nervously, and Satoru waits, waits for you to pull away or push him back – anything that would indicate discomfort. He’s patient the whole time, watching carefully as you only squeeze his hand and gesture to the both of you with your free one. “This is a date? Our first date?”

“Only if you want to be,” Satoru shrugs, grimacing afterwards at how sappy he sounds. “Well, I actually consider this our first date and I’ve been waiting for this for like forever now, so I sure as hell hope you want this too. I didn’t dress myself up today only to come back home crying.”

Satoru’s heart – if possible – only beats crazier and sings the syllables of your name when you start laughing harder to the point you have to muffle it by burying yourself in his bicep. He feels like his muscles and nerves could erupt at any moment. It’s crazy – absolutely insane – how you have him wrapped around your finger like this. He doesn’t complain though; he never will.

“I’m glad,” you mumble through his shirt, your erratic heartbeat matching kiss when you take the first tentative step of kissing his jaw.

Satoru stiffens underneath you, a low growl ripping from his throat. He’s feral, wild, drunk at the sight and scent of you. You make him feel like he’s fluctuating between dimensions, all the planets just crashing on one another until the stardust is left in your eyes because what else could be an explanation for what he’s feeling other than a supernova collision of hearts?

“You always make me feel so happy when you’re around that I still can’t believe you feel the same way. I was so worried that maybe you wouldn’t get my hints.”

Satoru groans, “What the hell? How long have you liked me?”

“I guess when you started bringing flowers to Megumi randomly just to piss him off.”

Satoru wants to rip his hair out. That was just a few weeks after you’ve started working with him, meaning you both have liked each other this whole time and he’s been suffering and feeling stupid just for nothing?

“God, Y/N,” he mutters to himself, “You really do know how to make a man go crazy, huh?”

That innocent smile on your face lets him know that as usual, you’re oblivious of everything. Satoru is right; he still can’t decide whether he wants to whack you in the head upside down. With a sigh, he ends up choosing the latter, nearly falling over his seat when you let out a surprised yelp at the feeling of his lips on yours.

It doesn’t take long before you grab onto his shirt and cling to dear life, laughter bubbling through your lips as you kiss. The sound is so precious he wants to bottle it up and keep it treasure for the rest of his life, but Satoru doesn’t rush anything.

With you and only with you is he ever capable of feeling like it’s just the two of you in a world filled with chaos and destruction.

[yoooespinosa]

could you please write a draco x reader fic, where the reader is hopelessly in love with draco, and she's not afraid to show it. but draco doesn't feel the same. and draco being draco, he rejects the reader with no remorse. then when the reader finally comes to the realization that she deserves better, she started seeing new people (not necessarily dating, but more like talking), then that's when draco feels a bit jealous now that the reader isn't all over him anymore. the rest is up to you, love! just something really angsty, you could end it in any way you'd like.

also, sidenote. you're an amazing writer and i love you!!

a/n: Thank you for your request! ily <3

To say you had a crush on Draco Malfoy, was an understatement.

You couldn't help it, you couldn't just stop the feelings you developed every time he came around.

When he walked into the room it was butterflies breaking out of their cage, palms growing sweaty and your heart racing so fast you were scared you'd be able to see its indentions.

It was scary at first, to have such feelings at only thirteen years old. So you did your best to ignore them. You did your best to stay out of his way.

That only worked for so long.

When you are friends with Draco and the people that surround him, it becomes very hard to stay out of his path.

So it was only inevitable that your crush on him would become so much more. Especially as the years went on.

He hadn't made it much easier. Sometimes you felt as if, maybe, he returned your feelings. How could you think otherwise? With the way he walked with you to class, carried your books at times and spent time with you. Just you. Alone.

How could you not fall in love with him.

With all that simmering in you, you finally let it out. You made your affections obvious, not afraid to show Draco how you felt for him. You had thought it was welcomed. You thought that the feelings would be returned.

It seemed as though he could only tolerate you for so long. Yes, that was the right word for it, the only thing he had for you was toleration.

Your shoes sounded on the stone under you, on your way to the Slytherin common room. You had just got out of detention with professor Snape. You suppose it was well deserved, you had seen Draco almost put the wrong ingredient in his potion, so you being you had wandered to his table and helped him, much to Snapes dismay.

Whispering the password, you made your way through the dim passage. Chattering of people from all years and faint laughter was heard all around.

You spotted your friends right away, seated by the green flamed fireplace, as usual.

"She just can't take a hint." You heard Draco grumble, you paused your steps, you didn't mean to eavesdrop but it seemed as if your feet had a mind of its own.

"Wait," Blaise closes the book he had in his hold. "who are we talking about again?"

Pansy sighs, seeming they had been on the topic for some time. "We're talking about y/n."

Your brows furrow. Going back to the first thing you heard Draco say, she just can't take a hint, what was that supposed to mean. What hint?

"Why can't you just tell her how you feel?" Theo adds, his voice is laced with annoyance, maybe this isn't the first time they've talked about this.

"I thought how I felt would be obvious enough, without having to say anything." He huffs.

"Well," Theo sighs. "apparently not."

You were becoming anxious. What were they talking about and what exactly was Draco feeling? There was streak of hope in you, maybe he'd confess right here that he felt the same.

"What do you suggest I say then, oh-wise-one?" Draco asks teasingly.

"Easy, just say exactly what you tell us." He clears his throat dramatically, adopting a mock version of his voice, "Y/n, you have to be one of the most annoying girls, I have ever had the dissatisfaction of meeting. Please, oh please take the hint and leave me alone because these attempts at getting at me are getting more pathetic each time." He finishes with a clumsy curtsy.

The other Slytherins try to stifle their laughs.

You hadn't even noticed the gasp that escaped your throat until four heads turned to your direction.

"Y/n, I didn't kn-" You cut of Theo's words and apologetic stare.

"Is that true?" You ask Draco, your voice low, laced with hurt. Your nose was stinging and your bottom lip hung heavy, but you refused to cry in front of them. You wouldn't give them another weakness to laugh about.

Draco managed to keep his face blank, no emotions shining through. He shrugged, "Pretty much summed it up."

You almost flinched. He didn't even care about the hurt those words brought you.

You left without a look back. Leaving behind your friends call of your name. They weren't the ones you wanted an apology from. They had known how much you felt for him and didn't even bother telling you that it was definitely not mutual. They even laughed, like it was a joke, like your heart was a comedic topic.

The cold air hit your face, freezing against the tear stain tracks. You sat on a lone stone bench in the court yard, letting those tears make a home on your cheeks.

It wasn't obvious--his dislike to you. If it was, you would have gave up long ago. But a part of you felt that there was hope and you had chased after that.

Why couldn't he have just told you when you first let your affections known, it seemed that he had encouraged it back then, with lingering touches and soft smiles.

Looking back now, you notice that those advantages had slowly disappeared. You had been too caught up in his silky hair, those gray eyes filled with mirth and mischief, his angular face with high bones that no one could compare to, that you hadn't notice everything was unrequited.

A sick part of you even felt honored to have your heart broken in the hold of his beautiful hands, the part that saw him do no wrong.

Maybe that was the first problem, you put him on a pedestal, so high up you weren't able to see anything negative of him. You weren't able to see his cruel reality of his feelings towards you.

And he didn't even seem sorry. He didn't even look bothered by the damage of his words.

You were so nice and considerate to him. You would support him at every quidditch game, cheer the loudest even when he lost. You bought him presents for every one of his birthdays and even Christmas, each one sentimental and thoughtful. You had comforted him when he got those letters, that he despised, from his father. You had voiced encouragements when he showed a little tell sign of his insecurities. You had been there for him.

And he treats you like this, like you can be so easily dismissed. You didn't deserve that, you didn't deserve to be called pathetic for having normal feelings and then being laughed at for it.

The longer you sat on that cold bench, the angrier you got. A bitter feeling growing in your stomach, melting away those knots.

You wasted all this time and effort on some guy who didn't even deserve it, some guy who didn't appreciate you. It wasn't fair.

"Hey, you okay?" A familiar voice sounded through your revelations.

You looked up and met green eyes framed with circular glasses.

"Yeah. I was just thinking." You mumbled, the bitter taste was stuck on your tongue, you wanted rid of it.

"Mind if I sit and think with you?" Harry asked, he was nervously scratching the back of his neck, smiling warmly at you.

You offered him a smile, welcoming his genuineness. "Go ahead."

He sat there with you for hours. Surrounded by the sound of wind. It was nice and comfortable. The bitter feeling leaving you completely. You were content now, even if you could still feel the ache in your arms from holding onto Draco for so long.

Weeks had passed. Weeks of no signs of you. The first week Draco hadn't been worried, a little curious, but that was all. The longer it went on though, he became a little more than curious. Not because he cared, cause he didn't, just that if something happened to you, it would be his fault. His rejection was the reason you ran off like a fool to who knows where.

Which is the only reason he went looking for you. He already got a lot of shit from the others, he didn't need more problems stacking up.

He checked all of your favorite places. Starting with that tree down by the black lake that you enjoyed to lean on and watch the sun go down, the sunset wasn't near so he should've known you would not have been there.

He then went to the gardens, there was a bench there that was next to a small pond. It was filled with odd creatures and was home to your favorite flowers, lotus's. You weren't there either.

Lastly, he went to a certain abandoned hall. You had to be there. You went there to be alone with your thoughts, you had taken him with you there a few times. There was a big window there with a thick ledge, streams of sunlight beamed through and tiny rainbows would reflect on the opposite wall due to the cracks on said window.

He heard you before he saw you. A soft laugh reverberating through the empty hall, a laugh he had always found annoying. Hearing it now though, just made him want to get closer to you.

So he did, walking with light footsteps. He froze, you were not alone. Sitting there in the space he once accompanied, was Harry fucking Potter. What kind of sick joke was this?

Why were you sitting with him? And does that mean you just laughed at something he said?

Your laugh sounded through again, once piercing now melodic. It was a bitter feeling, Potter shouldn't have the honor of dragging that sound out of you, he shouldn't even witness it.

Draco left the hall before either of you saw him, he needed to get himself in check.

More weeks passed. Weeks of you hanging out with Potter. You were doing things with him that you had done with Draco.

It was on purpose, you had to be doing it on purpose. You were simply trying to make him jealous and it was annoyingly working.

But how could you be doing that when you didn't even look back to see a reaction.

Draco didn't know what to think. He didn't even know what to feel, or more like let himself feel. Something had changed in the weeks you were away from him.

A revelation of sorts. He missed you. Missed what you would do for him. He regretted what he said and what he never had the chance to say. Because maybe deep down those feelings had been returned, but he was just too stubborn to show.

And now he's seeing you realizing that you deserve more than blurred lines and assumptions. And he's realizing maybe Potter is that more that you deserve.

Draco doesn't like that one bit, he can't even stomach the thought. So he promises to himself that he will do everything in his power to win you back. Even if that means saying that he was sorry and admitting that he was in the wrong, something he's never had to do before.

But if that makes you his again and gets you away from Potter, then its worth it.

Part 2

[minty-malfoy]

“would you still love me if I turned into a worm?” | blurbs

🌱 pairings: reader x blaise zabini, cedric diggory, draco malfoy, fred weasley, george weasley, harry potter, hermione granger, luna lovegood, neville longbottom (sorted in alphabetical order)

🌱 warning tags: language, probably

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Blaise Zabini

“A what, now?” your boyfriend asks, halting the movements of his quill to look up at you; brows furrowed as if it’s the most absurd thing he has ever heard in his entire life.

“You know, those wiggly things that—”

“I know what worms are, (y/n). But what the hell?”

“Dunno,” you shrug. “I’m bored.”

“So you thought about what it’d be like to turn into a worm?” his eyes narrow out of pure bewilderment, blinking once, twice, as he finally turns back to his unfinished essay. “Sometimes I wonder what goes on in that head of yours.”

“Not my fault you’re taking so long with that assignment,” you grumble as you begin to shift on the puffy couch, feeling somewhat annoyed by how cold and empty it is without the other boy in it. “And besides, you love me.”

An amused chuckle escapes his lips. “Can’t say that I don’t.”

“Even as a worm?”

“Will you stop asking if I said yes?”

You nod happily, giving him the answer he needs— or well, wants, really. Even though Blaise couldn’t quite understand the pointless question, he knows it’s significant to an extent.

“Yeah, alright. I would. Now give me five minutes and we can get out of here. Deal?”

A glint of satisfaction flashes through your eyes as you give him a hum in return, thinking to yourself that maybe the silly questions could be more useful than you thought.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Cedric Diggory

The moment the words leave your mouth, Cedric's first reaction is to laugh. He didn't mean for it to come out in a condescending way. He hadn't even meant to laugh, to begin with. But judging by the way you pout with both arms crossed, that might just have been how it came accross.

"I'm sorry," he offers sheepishly. "you were saying?"

"You heard me. I said what I've said," you grumble, despite not being genuinely upset at the hufflepuff boy you've grown to love.

"Wait, I need to get this straight," he takes another breath of air. "You're serious?"

"What do you think?" you pout once again, turning away slightly from your boyfriend. This only seems to ignite his amusement as much as it does his guilt. A second or two later, his arm finds its way around your shoulder, the other brushing a few strands of hair behind your ear.

"You really haven't figured it out yet?" he asks with a genuine grin on his face. You begin to eye him curiously, appreciating the charm of his pearly white teeth as you wait for the boy to go on. Soon, he pulls you into his lap where his arms craddle you lovingly.

"Sunshine," he begins. "I'm surprised you still have to ask. But if that's one way of putting my love for you, then yes. You'd be my favorite worm in the entire world."

"Promise?" you present your pinkie finger as a final means to seal the deal.

With one last chuckle, he wraps his fingers around yours. "Promise."

Everything that happens next is a flurry of innocent pecks and kisses planted along your skin, coupled with the security of two warm arms holding you in place.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Draco Malfoy

"And what exactly do you expect me to say to that?" comes his first response after a long moment of trying to figure out just how in Merlin's name your mind came up with that question.

You, on the other hand, can't help but giggle at the slytherin boy's confusion. "Whatever's on your mind right now will do."

"Well, to be honest with you, I can't quite stomach the idea of my own girlfriend turning into a bloody worm." he nearly spits the words out, softening his edge only when your eyes meet once again. "If you were expecting a different answer, I suggest moving on to the next bloke."

Draco wasn't lying about that first bit. Worms have always been an insignificant, unseen creature in his world; wiggling in the muckiest of places where they could easily be stepped on. Hence, he doesn't like to imagine you—someone so perfectly ethereal and quintessential in every single way; the only source of light shining into his pathetic excuse of a life—to be compared to a dirty worm, of all things.

"That doesn't mean I don't love you, though," he adds in a bit of a guilty tone; voice much, much softer this time. He brings your hand to his lips, dropping a few kisses on its skin. "I just much prefer having you as you already are."

You snuggle deeper into him, indicating that you already know exactly what he means.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Fred Weasley

“A worm!” Fred exclaims, nearly forgetting the food on his plate altogether. "What a brilliant idea!"

A few seats away, you can already see Ginny clamping her mouth shut as to not burst into fireworks of laughter. You mirror her gesture, eyes now on Fred once again, watching him announce this idea of yours to your entire group of friends.

Ron, who's not that thrilled to see his brother's public displays of affection, lets out a groan. "Wouldn't have asked him that if I were you."

"You think so?" comes your reply. "He seems to be having a lot of fun with this." you both glance at Fred, who is indeed already coming up with some sort of thrilling plot.

"Did you hear that, George?"

"Sure did, Fred."

"I reckon we could come up with a potion for that," he muses, turning back to look at you. "Give me a week or two and we can start living out that worm dream of yours, love."

"Wait, Freddie, you're getting it all wrong," you begin explaining, tugging on the boy's sleeve slightly to keep his attention on you, "It was just a silly little question. I don't actually plan on turning into a worm or anything like that."

At this point, you half expect his enthusiasm to die down from the grounding effect of your words. In reality, it doesn't.

"S'that so?" he replies, earning a nod from you. "Looks like you're missing the bigger picture to me, (y/n). Isn't that right, George?"

"Right you are, Fred." the said boy affirms. "Sorry, (y/n). I'm with him on this one."

With a sigh, you turn back to Ron, who's busily stuffing his mouth with a look on his face that says I told you so. You shake your head with a small smile at your boyfriend's shenanigans. You're not sure how you can both dread and anticipate the day of his worm adventures.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

George Weasley

"That's a new one," he asserts with an amused laugh. The boy rests his head against one of his palms, feeling instantly intrigued by your proposition. "Now tell me more about this worm business of yours."

"That's about it, actually." you admit sadly.

George frowns at this, wishing he could hear more worm stories and whatnot. Mostly he's just happy to see the way you talk about things passionately. Makes him feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside in a way he can't ever get enough of.

"That's quite alright. I'll do the talking, then." he offers, rubbing his chin to think of what to say next. You light up in your seat, eyes wide in anticipation. Now it's your turn to eagerly wait for his response once again.

"I've got an idea. We could run off and start a new life— as worms!" he beams all of a sudden. You raise a brow for him to go on, not exactly complaining about your boyfriend's excitement towards the topic. "I'm only turning into a worm to make sure I can properly take care of you, of course. Wouldn't want to—er—squash you between my big human fingers, now do we?"

You both erupt into a chorus of laughter at the conjectured image, melting into one another like two fitting puzzle pieces. When you finally catch your breath again, you pose the main question once more, "So I'm concluding you're still going to love me, then?"

"Love you?" he repeats. "Oh darling, I'll be marrying you in a grand worm wedding!"

You can't hold back the gasp that escapes your lips, more than thrilled to have the first mention of marriage between you. Not too long after, you transform into a complete fit of giggles when George continues. "Then we'll happily live our worm lives, 'till death do us apart. Or when, you know, some bloke accidentally steps on us. Whichever comes first."

You lean into him lovingly to steady yourself after all the laughing. Taking a deep breath in, you mumble a soft, "You always know how to make me laugh, Georgie."

And the truth is, he wouldn't have it any other way. Worms or not.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Hermione Granger

"I'm sorry, I don't think I understand the point of this question."

"Which part, exactly?" you inquire, watching your girlfriend pull out another book from the wooden library shelves.

A few seconds pass before you get your answer. "You're not a worm," she states simply, eyeing you up and down as if to prove her point.

"Yes, thank you for pointing that out, 'Mione," you follow her to the next section. "Which is why I said if I turned into a worm."

The girl looks at you again, analyzing your words and expression briefly before coming to another conclusion. "I still don't understand." she pauses to think. "Unless you might be interested in becoming an Animagus? Even then, opting for a worm wouldn't be very... effective."

You roll your eyes, speeding up to block the girl's way. She lets out a non-committal "Hey!", only for you to quickly muffle it with a warm kiss. A moment or two later, you pull away with a smirk that makes her heart melt. "Just answer the question, would you?"

Still slightly caught off guard from the contact, Hermione finally caves in. "Alright, you cheeky flirt. I love you. Even as a notional worm."

Satisfied with her answer, you plant another peck— this time on her cheek, before announcing a gentle "I love you, too."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Harry Potter

The way his lips purse into a straight line tells you that Harry doesn't exactly understand the question. Not really, at first. Aside from being an entirely foreign concept to his ears, it also seems like an odd thing to ask someone, unless— "Oh! You're an Animagus!"

The smile on your face instantly drops at this. "What? No—"

"Why didn't you just say so, (y/n)?" he begins what—at the time—you don't know is going to be a nearly endless ramble. "I was planning on telling you this for a while now, but I know someone who's an Animagus, actually. In fact, I think you two would get along fantastically!" he lights up at the sudden idea, flailing his arms in the air out of excitement. "Yes, maybe I can try getting the both of you to meet up. No promises, of course, but what do you think?"

"I think you've got it all wrong," you frown; knowing you would have to disappoint your boyfriend and how you're not very fond of the idea.

"What do you mean?" he asks, albeit barely giving you a second to reply. "(y/n), it's alright, really. You know you don't have to hide yourself from me. Besides, I think it's brilliant!— what you can do, I mean."

The smile he gives you is the epitome of love itself, and now you're not quite sure how to handle the messy situation without pulling out the rug underneath Harry's feet. All you can do is squeeze his shoulder with a guilty smile, promising to talk about it again after dinner.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Luna Lovegood

"Of course. Worms are lovely, don't you think?" she says with a dreamy smile. You gape at how easily the answer could be pried from your girlfriend; no questions asked. But then again, it's not like you hadn't expected this exact outcome already.

"Really?"

"Mhm," comes her gentle hum as she begins to stir her honeyed chamomile tea. A soft smile stays glued on her features, as if she's enjoying the conversation. "What kind of worm would you like to be, (y/n)?"

"I haven't really thought about it that far," You admit. "Are you sure, though? We won't be able to hold hands or anything like that."

You can't tell if you had just imagined the almost-frown tugging on her lips, because when she looks back up at you again, her sweet signature Luna smile is back in its place. "I suppose you're right. But I could carry you around everywhere with me. Wouldn't that be lovely?"

"It would be," you nod. "but can a worm even fit into that pocket of yours?" you question, noticing how hers are stuffed with unknown items; blades of grass sticking out ever so slightly. Flowers, perhaps.

"Oh, there's nothing to worry about. See?" she pulls out a couple of daisies and fairy foxgloves to reveal a now empty pocket. "Now, would you like some tea?"

You eagerly join her on the table, snuggling against your girlfriend ever so slightly as you both begin to talk about your day. The entire worm ordeal is slowly slipping out of your mind already.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Neville Longbottom

Neville stops in his tracks at your question, taking a moment to toss the idea back and forth in his mind before he can give you a proper answer. You nearly giggle when his face scrunches up, brows knit and lips parted as he innocently asks, “But why would you turn into a worm?”

"Neville, love, no. It's a hypothetical question."

His entire body relaxes at this, releasing what you assume is a breath of relief. "Oh. I thought you were being serious for a moment there."

You shake your head with a giggle, taking a step closer to adjust the scarf around your boyfriend's neck. "I'm just curious is all. Would you still love me, then?" you ponder.

"Yes! Of course!" comes his instant reply, hands balled up into fists that match the determination on his face. "I would get you a nice worm house with all your favorite flowers in it," he bends one of his gloved finger inwards, beginning to keep count of this hypothetical to-do list. "Would you still be able to have human food? Well, either way, I promise to feed you every single day!"

He pauses, only for a second or two. "Oh! And I'll sing you worm songs! Or maybe we can sing them together? I don't know if you would still be able to talk as a worm though."

You swiftly pull him into an affectionate hug, effectively bringing his rambling—as well as the entire worm topic—to an end. His hands sheepishly find their home around your waist, where he places them softly as if it's his first time hugging you. After all the months of being together, it certainly isn't.

"What was that for?" he dares himself to ask, avoiding your eye contact shyly.

"For being the most loving and adorable boyfriend I could ever ask for," you lean in to plant a soft, gentle kiss on his cheek. You don't miss the way he pulls up his scarf to hide the blossoming blush afterwards.

I have no idea why I wrote this either lol <3

🌷 draco taglist: @arossebyanyothername @kawaii-angelanne @thefandomplace @yuosmi @bbeauttyybbx @mywellspringoflife @slytherinsunrise @avatarbeeb @scarlet-says-hi @lunars @coldlilheart @beiahadid @justmimithings @soundsquid27 @youknowiloveyou-so @n3ssm0nique @ochrythum @explxsion @yaanasluv @autumnpleaves @booksmione @drxcomvlfx @the–queen-of-hell @aspiringsloth20 @runninglownad @snitches-at-dawn @badfvith

🌷 harry taglist: @teheharrypotter @badfvith

[etherrreal]

“when you pass out at practice”

Pairing: tsukishima x reader ; kyotani x reader ; aone x reader Genre: comfort-fluff ; drabbles & headcanons Summary: the reader hasn’t been taking care of herself which leads to her passing out at practice  Word Count: 2295 Warnings: fainting, or passing out, from sleep deprivation/not eating/heat exhaustion, some explicit language because i’m an adult A/N: thanks for the fun request! i took a little bit of artistic liberties with the scenario to keep it from being so repetitive so I hope you don’t mind! -Luna

it was rare that you had a beautiful sunny day on a weekend with no chores to attend to or work to complete

so when your boyfriend Tsukishima texted you and asked you to come join him for casual volleyball practice outside, you decided to take him up on that opportunity

however, not even a cap and some cold water could stave off heat exhaustion

Despite it being 95°F and so humid that the air feels thick when you breathe, it is a beautiful day outside. The sky is completely clear of clouds; the sun is shining directly on you as you, your boyfriend, and Yamaguchi head out to practice at the open field nearby Karasuno. The change of scenery was refreshing and even with it feeling just as hot as it usually does inside the school gym, the occasional breeze and lack of sweaty stench was a huge welcomed change. 

There’s very little shade provided by the trees, but you lay out a small blanket under the nearest one anyway. You become the bag and bottle keeper when Tsukishima and Yamaguchi hand you their items, your boyfriend dropping it haphazardly onto the blanket while Yamaguchi delicately places it down with a ‘thank you.’ 

You usually don’t get to see Tsukishima practice, seeing as his normal practices run until the dead of night, so it was fun watching them set and serve the ball back and forth. When the occasional ball lands by your feet, you get the chance to enjoy setting it back to them, even if it often falls short or misses the target completely. 

“Thank god you’re not on our team,” Tsukishima teases, as he watches the ball you set fall 6 feet away from him.

“Yeah, because I’d kick your ass. I know I’m a threat, and you should fear me,” you retort sarcastically. Before he turns away to retrieve the ball, you see him crack a small smile at your tomfoolery. 

However, after a few hours of getting up and down repeatedly to send the balls back under the beating sun, your head starts to pound. Your body is radiating so much heat it makes you want to remove your skin. You know it’s just a matter of time before you start feeling physically ill, as well. You loosen your cap and drink some cold water in hopes that it will relieve some of the tension, but you just feel the same.

You decide to lay down on the blanket, cap laid over your face to block out the sun. You don’t know if you passed out or if you simply tuned out everything around you for a bit, but you jump when you suddenly feel something wet and cold touching your neck.

You reach up to swat it away, thinking it was a bug when you hear Tsukishima’s voice. “Stop that. I’m trying to help you, dummy.” 

Relief washed over you to know that it wasn’t a beetle crawling up your neck but instead your stoic boyfriend pressing his plastic water bottle there to cool you down.

“Yamaguchi thought you died,” he brought up suddenly. “He actually ran to the store to get some more water after I told him to stop overreacting.”

You chuckle, picturing Yamaguchi already mourning over your body just because you were lying down with a cap over your face. “It’s sweet that he cares though, in his own weird way.”

Suddenly, the sky and Tsukishima’s crouching figure are in full view as he flicks the hat off of your face, feeling annoyed that you praised his friend and not him. “What do you think I’m doing, huh?” 

“Aww, do you want me to tell you how you’re the bestest, sweetest, most handsome boyfriend I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing, and that I’m so grateful that you’ve graced me with your help?” you whine in a sarcastic tone, making grabby hands at the tall blond hovering over you.

He slaps your hands away, knowing that if you get your hands on him, you’d squeeze his cheeks and ruffle his hair like you always do. “Well, that’s the last time I ever take care of you.” 

You know he doesn’t mean it and that, if you were ever in some form of peril, he would casually stroll rush to your rescue to make sure you’re okay. You hope that when you look up at him he can see how much you appreciate his efforts.

“Thank you, Kei,” you say sincerely.

“Yeah, whatever.” He sounds dismissive, but you can tell by the scrunched eyebrows and soft look in his eyes as he gazes down at you how much he worries about your well-being, and you’re genuinely grateful to have him be your unofficial nurse. 

you heard from some classmates that your math teacher was seen printing out math quizzes

*cue studious panic*

 you decided to completely skip lunch and use that time in the library to hit the books hard

your stomach was rumbling, your head was hurting, and your vision would become spotty if you stood up too quickly

you completed your quiz at the end of the day, but by then, you were starving and ready to get something to eat

in your panic, you forgot that you were supposed to meet kyotani after school so you could force him to go to practice that day (or else Iwaizumi would have your ass)

he heard your stomach make monstrous noises and when you let him know you hadn’t eaten, he looked more upset than usual to see you not taking care of yourself

“Let’s skip practice and get some food,” he suggests.

“What? So you can skip out on one of the few practices you go to? Absolutely not!” you reprimand.

“But you need to eat.”

“Look at you being a sweet boyfriend who cares,” you tease, watching him roll his eyes like he’s annoyed, but the pink hue dusting his cheeks says otherwise. “I’ll be fine. I should have an extra granola bar in my bag somewhere.” 

"Whatever, if you say so." He turns his body diagonally, a gesture you know means 'walk with me.' Kyotani has never been keen on PDA, but one thing you have noticed is that he prefers for you to walk directly by his side at all times. To others, it may look like he’s uninterested in you, but you can tell by how often his arm brushes yours that it’s his way of showing affection. 

You stroll across campus together, enjoying a quiet conversation with Kyotani about your day thus far. It doesn’t take long for you to reach the gym entrance, already hearing the balls slamming against the ground inside. You both switch out your shoes before walking in, him going to join his teammates and you finding a seat on the sidelines, seeing Iwaizumi give you a thumbs up for your job well done. 

You take a moment to search through your bag for that granola bar you mentioned earlier. After sifting through books, loose notes, and forgotten pencils and pens, you realize you have no snack to tide you over until the end of practice. 

The market is just down the road. I could probably go pick something up and be back quickly.

You wave Iwaizumi over, figuring you’ll tell him your plans while Kyotani is distracted so he won’t follow you out. You see his back turned to you as Oikawa speaks to the rest of the team, gesturing wildly with a volleyball in hand. 

As Iwaizumi gets closer, you stand up and immediately begin to sway. Your vision grows spotted, and your head feels like it’s floating. 

You hear Kyotani yell out your name before everything goes black.

When you wake up, the lights are beaming overhead as you lay in some sort of bed. Once you’re coherent enough, you sit up, looking around to see that you’re in the school nurse’s office. You pick up your hand to hold your still aching head when you notice a very angry Kyotani attached to it, already glaring at you.

Your mouth opens and closes repeatedly, not quite knowing what to say after you just passed out in the middle of practice.

"I told you that we should've gotten something to eat," he starts, growling out each word.

You shrink into yourself, feeling embarrassed that you've upset him and couldn’t even take care of yourself properly. "I'm sorry, Kentaro.”

He notices you plucking the lint off your shirt to avoid direct eye contact with him. His eyes close as he collects himself, realizing that now’s not the time to lecture you for something you couldn’t have predicted.

He sighs, standing up slightly to lean over your slumped figure, laying a kiss on your temple. He mumbles a quiet apology against your skin, feeling bad for snapping at you when he should’ve been more kind. He’s working on that, slowly but surely.

“Let’s go get something to eat,” he says, holding your hand while you stand slowly from the bed. You wobble slightly, Kyotani quickly wrapping his arm around your waist to stabilize you. You give him a nod when you’re firmly on your two feet.

“From now on, if you’re hungry, tell me.”

You agreed reluctantly, not exactly wanting him to worry so much but knowing he wouldn’t let you leave without your compliance. 

From then on, he always makes sure to check on you to check if you've eaten or if you need one of the many granola bars he now carries, and while sometimes it's annoying to have him acting like a mother hen, it's also very heartwarming to know that he cares about you that much. Not to mention, he’s saved your ass many times when you have to study overtime for another intense math quiz. 

the end of the semester was coming to a close and you were scrambling to get everything done on time

there weren't enough hours in the day to study for finals, finish projects, complete homework, and also take care of your human needs, like eating and sleeping

so, you just didn't sleep one night, opting to stay up with some caffeine to power through all of your work

at the beginning of the next day, you felt energetic and peppy, but as it went on, the sluggish feeling started to settle in

by the end, you were feeling absolutely exhausted and ready to drop at any moment

however, you still wanted to accompany Aone to practice that day, as it was your favorite part of your week

aone initially insisted that you head home without him, but he realized it might be safer to go with him after practice, just in case you fell asleep on the train

It feels like it takes ages, but eventually, practice begins to wind down, soreness seeping into each and every team member’s muscles after hours on their feet. A few of them are still practicing quick attacks with each other, but Aone is one more move away from passing out from exhaustion.

He walks over to you sitting on the sidelines, watching you take longer and longer between each blink. Yet, when he gets close enough, you still manage to give him a small smile that kicks his heart into overdrive, his face, no doubt, resembling a tomato because of the gesture.

He sits on the creaky folding chair beside you, taking gulps of his water to try to cool himself down. He almost chokes when he feels your head press up against his shoulder, hand resting on his forearm gently. Sitting still as a rock, he tries to take his mind off his cute partner cuddling up next to him.

"We should stop somewhere and pick up some food on the way to the train,” he suggests, doing his best to ignore the warmth filling his cheeks. “Do you want anything specific?"

You're silent beside him. At first, he thinks you're contemplating what to eat, seeing as you're very particular with your cravings. But when two minutes pass, and there's not even a peep from you, he looks down carefully to find you knocked out against his shoulder, face squished uncomfortably and mouth parting with each deep breath you take.

Aone never pictured this happening to him –mostly because he didn't think he'd ever have a partner who'd feel comfortable enough around him– so he didn't quite know where to go from here. He could wake you up to at least bring you home, but if this is the first time you've slept in over 24 hours, he didn't want to deprive you of more necessary sleep.

The only way Aone can think of bringing you home is to carry you all the way to the train station and... Well, that's as far as he manages to get, but future Aone will figure the rest out.

He asks Futakuchi to gather his things for him because he doesn't want to risk waking you. After some light teasing, he hands Aone his packed duffle and helps put on his jacket with minimal stirring from you.

Aone thanks his friend with a nod before turning to you and slipping his arms under you, one beneath your knees and the other behind your back. He freezes when you begin shifting around, but relaxes once you settle into him.

Aone waves at his team on the way out, with what movement he is allowed, and begins his trek to the train station nearby. 

His arms are aching after hours of practice, but it doesn’t matter, because you nuzzling into his neck with an adorable sigh gives him enough strength to carry you halfway across the country if he needs to. 

Written by: Luna

[outercrasis]

Sessions

Pairing: College!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: None (let me know if I missed something!)

Summary: Everyone is talking about the mysterious new guy on campus

A/N: I had a ton of fun writing this extremely self-indulgent AU and I have plans to keep writing more about these two. It won’t be an actual chaptered fic, but at some point I’ll throw together a masterlist with a chronological order to things.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Introductions

The semester had only started four weeks ago and he was already a legend around campus. Almost everywhere someone could be found whispering about him. You'd even heard faculty speculating, wondering about the rumors they overheard their students sharing.

You first heard of him in your literature seminar, some of your fellow classmates discussing a recent rumor about the now fabled man. Something about a motorcycle and a child caught your ear, prompting you to interrupt and the girls in front of you who they were talking about. 

The looks you received from the pair were incredulous at best. “You mean you haven’t heard about him?”

“Heard about who?” you asked, genuinely confused. It had only been the first week of class at the time and you were too caught up with your own busy start to check in on the rumor mill.

“Mando, obviously. He’s all anyone is talking about.” From there the girls had happily filled you in on all the latest sightings and rumors. 

Mando, as they called him, was shrouded in mystery. He'd popped up on Corellia University's campus when the semester began and no one knew a thing about him. He hadn't gone to Corellia before, internet searches turned up nothing, and even the skull-like symbol on the back of his leather jacket wasn't familiar to anyone. Any information on him was conjecture at best and there was plenty to go around. Once the rest of the class caught onto what you three were discussing, theories began to fly.

People discussed how he’d been spotted downtown, beating on some guys in a back alley. He’d also been seen uptown the same night though, strolling through Basalt Park. One girl was nearly certain that she’d gone to elementary school with Mando, but he’d mysteriously disappeared one day without explanation. Someone else was confident he was just a cop trying some weird shtick to go undercover. Then one person insisted he had a kid with him sometimes while another was trying to explain that he was actually a murderer. The rumors only became more ludicrous from there.

By the end of the discussion you only ascertained two things for certain. He went by the name Mando and he wore some kind of special helmet. Information you could have gotten by watching him pick up a drink at the Java Hut. Not nearly enough to warrant this level of fervor in your opinion.

From there, hearing about Mando was inescapable. You got home that night only to have your roommate and best friend, Layla, launch into theories about him. Within the week someone set up a social media page to try and track his location around campus via DMs fellow students sent in. That had struck you as invasive and unsettling, but the messages about him kept flooding in.

By pure chance, you had yet to actually see him for yourself. There weren't even any creep shots for you to look at. People had been trying to take photos of him, but he was like a ghost. In the time it took them to pull up their cameras he'd disappear. 

There wasn't even more concrete information about him beyond what you'd learned that first day. Just more and more speculation, a good amount of it made up purely for the shock factor. Another week slipped by, the semester picking up, and Mando news became standard in your day. There was always something new going around about him and as much as you tried to avoid it and focus on your studies, you couldn’t help but wonder about him yourself.

Who was this guy? Was this all some stunt or ‘social experiment’ that would be revealed by a sociology student at the end of the semester? Or was he a legitimate peculiarity, doomed to stick out like a sore thumb? You weren’t sure if you should hate him for making a big deal out of himself or pity him for all the unwarranted attention. Either way, you were sure that whenever you met this enigmatic Mando, you’d know.

×××××

You grumble looking at the submission form. The name and student ID information is blank again. You told Todd last week those fields needed to be made mandatory. How else were you supposed to know who to email when you end up with a no-show for the hour?

Looking further down you're pleased to note that they're at least a grad student. Despite the unfinished form, graduates almost never skip sessions like these. You're thrilled to have the opportunity to discuss something other than freshman composition for once. It's fun helping the wide-eyed freshies, but you can only go over basic comma rules so many times before you start to lose it a little.

There's a knock at the study room door and you look up only to be rendered speechless. It's him. Mando. With a kid on his hip. So Alissandra hadn’t been lying when she told you about the toddler she saw with him. Interesting. Continuing to take him in, you can’t help but focus on the obvious - the only thing you knew about him other than his supposed name, the helmet. 

It’s unlike anything you've seen before. You're fairly certain it's a motorcycle helmet, but it's been modified. Rather than the typical rounded shape, his is all sharp angles and flat at the front. It’s colored a sleek, shining chrome that gleams under the washed out fluorescent lighting. Most arresting is the way he's changed the face of the helmet. The cheeks dip inward at a sharp angle, creating deep, curved contours. His visor is a T of black glass in the center, entirely impossible to see through. It's intimidating and… kinda hot?

The little boy he's holding starts to wiggle in his grasp, physically demanding to be set down in the study room. Once his feet touch the floor, he immediately runs over and climbs into the chair next to you. He's a welcome distraction from his father’s? brother's? guardian's? commanding presence in the room.

The boy can't be older than three, smiling up at you with a wide toothy grin. His hair is covered by a green beanie with large floppy ears sewn onto it and he's wearing a little brown jacket with a sherpa collar. Maybe a bit too heavy for the early autumnal weather, but if the rumor that the kid rides on a motorcycle with Mando is true, it’s perfect. His eyes are large and brown, shining up at you with a slightly mischievous glint.

"Hello, what's your name?" you ask, smiling back at the child.

"Grogu," comes the reply, not from the kid, but from Mando.

You arch an eyebrow at him. He can't be serious with that name. "Grogu?" you ask.

He shrugs, placing his bag on the table. "I came home one day and he told his babysitter that was his name now. He won't respond to anything else. So, Grogu."

You look back to the bouncing toddler. He's still grinning, nodding along with what's been said about his name. They must not be lying then. Either that, or it was some elaborate prank between them and you would never be in on the joke. 

"Well okay, Grogu it is." 

You extend your hand out to Mando, offering your name alongside it. He offers a leather clad hand in return, giving you a firm handshake. You're pleased when he only gives your hand a gentle squeeze, not crushing it like so many other students have done. His gloves are unique as well, black with orange fingers, the leather well worn in. It's warm to the touch, his body heat radiating through the thick fabric. 

"Mando," he says, officially introducing himself as he takes the seat on your other side, across from Grogu.

"Mando," you repeat, cementing it as a truth from the rumor mill. "Got any other names?" You hope that comes across as casual and not intrusive. He hasn't even gone to remove his helmet, telling you he isn't a man who cares much for people prying into his business.

"No. Why?" Mando cocks his head slightly as he asks, the helmet adding an exaggerated look to the movement. He reaches into his bag, pulls out some crayons and a pad of paper, pushing them over to Grogu.

You shrug, trying not to think about how you heard his name might be David from someone in your composition course. "Just thought I'd ask. One hears many things around campus and it's hard to tell what's true or not."

"What do you mean?"

That question makes you pause. Surely he knows. Part of you is still convinced he’s doing this act on purpose, trying to gain notoriety for some reason. The way he asked though, something about it tells you that the poor man is clueless about the buzz he's caused.

"Mando, you're like the talk of the town right now. We only just met but I've heard plenty about you," you explain. It's hard to tell with the helmet on, but you're fairly sure he's shocked underneath. Grogu ignores you both, excitedly scribbling away on his paper.

"I'm fairly sure most of it's just rumor and speculation, but still. You're like a thing around campus," you add.

He's quiet for a moment, his laptop only half out of his bag. "Oh," he finally says. "I didn't know."

Grogu gives a happy shriek not a second later, breaking the awkward tension that had begun to creep into the room. He's beaming, holding up his crayola masterpiece. On the paper there is what appears to be a hastily drawn frog using every color in the box.

Mando returns to himself, pulling his laptop the rest of the way and continues to get set up. "Great job, kid. It looks good."

Most people would have said that dismissively, a platitude to get their child to stop bothering them. When Mando says it though, the authenticity is palpable. He said six words and you can hear the pride lacing them all together. It’s sweet, the obvious affection this clearly private man has for the toddler. 

You can’t help but wonder what his connection to Grogu actually is. The way he spoke just then, if you had to put your money on it, you’d say father. The kicker then though is if he’s biological or not. And if not, then how else does a grad student get strapped with a three year old? Thinking about all the potential scenarios is enough to make your head hurt.

You’re also left wondering where all the more violent rumors about him are coming from. His tenderness is so readily on display that it’s hard to imagine the man before you choking someone because they cut him in line at the local froyo shop. He’s mysterious and gives off a vaguely dangerous vibe, sure, but less than five minutes around him and the kid and it’s obvious he’s no threat to you. He’s just a guy trying to get his assignments done for class, same as everyone else.

Your stomach still catches in your throat as Mando starts unexpectedly tugging off his gloves. From what you’d heard, he never takes anything off: not his jacket, not his gloves, and certainly not his helmet. All anyone knows of his true appearance on campus is that he’s obviously male with rumors flying around about everything else including simple attributes, like the color of his skin. Now, here he is, casually revealing this groundbreaking information to you.

His hands move fluidly, pulling off each glove in just a few easy tugs. His skin matches the heat you felt from them just minutes ago, a warm golden tan, with a few faded lines of scars worn in. Watching him type, pulling his paper up for you to discuss, you feel a deep and sudden ache to have his hands touch you again. A simple handshake is no longer enough. Every stroke of the keys is measured, deliberate, and leaves you wondering how he would use those fingers on you.

“This is what I have so far.”

His voice snaps you back to reality, a quick wave of shame washing over you. Where did all of that come from? It was just a man’s hands for heaven’s sake, certainly not something you should be horny about at two in the afternoon. Not to mention that he came in here looking for your help, not wanting you to start fantasizing about his hands expertly working you over.

You clear your throat and tear your eyes away from the offending appendages. “Great, let me just read the introduction here so I can get an idea for what you’re writing about.”

You settle into working with him easily. His paper is already well-written, just needing tweaks here and there to bring it to the next level. It’s nice working with him. He’s attentive, clearly listening to everything you have to say and taking it into account. He doesn’t even try to challenge you as some of the more macho male students are wont to do. By the end of the session, you can’t help but wish all of your time as a tutor was that easy.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely, tucking his laptop away. “You really helped.”

You smile at him, thrilled with his genuine complement. “Of course, that’s what I’m here for.”

He finishes packing up his and Grogu’s things, with you silently lamenting as his gloves slide back on. It still feels like a ridiculous thought, but he really does have beautiful hands. There’s a small tap on your arm and you look to your left to see Grogu patiently waiting. He’s offering something to you, paper outstretched in his little hands.

“Thank you,” you say, taking the sheet from him. You look at it to see a frog carefully drawn on the page. It’s not the same as the first one he showed you and Mando, this one more deliberate and thoughtful. The colors are still just as varied, but it’s obvious he took more time to think about where he was using each one. You can’t help but smile at his small masterpiece.

“It looks great, buddy. I’ll keep it forever,” you tell him. Grogu beams at your praise, excitedly looking over to Mando. 

Mando nods at the kid. “Yeah kid, I heard her too.” He turns his head towards you. “Thank you again. I’d take good care of that drawing. He’ll never forgive you if he finds out you got rid of it.”

“Does that mean I’ll be seeing you again?” Your own boldness takes you by surprise. You have no idea where that came from, how those words spilled without a second thought. Part of you is already cringing at Mando’s potential reaction.

He surprises you once again though, holding a hand out for Grogu to take. Shouldering his backpack, you hear an amused huff of air from under the helmet. “Yeah, mesh’la, I’ll see you around.”

There isn’t a chance to reply as Mando turns, escorting his tiny charge out of the room with him. You’re a little dumbstruck, now equally surprised with him as you had been with yourself. 

And what was that name he just called you? Mesh’la? You don’t even know what language that could have been, much less the meaning. Something about his tone when he said it tells you it’s a good thing though, that he’s not secretly calling you rude names in some unknown language. You can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever get to find out.

.

.

.

taglist: @honestly-shite

[keilemlucent]

daddy keigo: christmas special

mostly sfw, suggestive content

warnings: daddy kink, christmas, gift-giving, keigo getting a wittle weapy, uwu

...

hello! better late than never, here’s my little christmas drabble for the day. enjoy loves!!!!

...

“Daddy, come on, I gotta get up!”

You hoped Keigo would be unsuspecting, as it was quite early in the morning for you to be hauling yourself from bed. How hard would it be to convince your mostly-asleep partner that you just needed to piss-- obviously, there wasn’t anything else going on.

Keigo grumbled, wings fanned out and rippling in his sleep as he reluctantly let you go from his arms. 

���Get back here soon,” Keigo said into the pillows, eyes still shut and body still slack. “Miss ya’, little bird.”

Your heart squeezed with glee as you gave him a final kiss before beginning your mission.

...

Keigo had been spoiling you. Gifts, treats, and presents for the past month as Christmas loomed. Despite all of the many treasures he purchased for you on the spot, a large pile of well-wrapped gifts had been appearing under your tree as the snowy month has gone on. Whenever you tried to worry about it, insist to Keigo that, “I know you’re my daddy, b-but isn’t this a lot--?”. 

He was always quick to quiet you, quick to hush you with greedy hands and knowing words, “You’re daddy’s good little bird, and daddy knows best.”

He did know best, you trusted him and knew that he did, but that didn’t mean you didn’t have your own plans for the holidays up your sleeve. The compulsion to make this holiday a particularly special one ran strong, as this was your first holiday together and able to celebrate it properly.

You flicked on the bathroom light and shut the door from the outside, hopefully fooling Keigo in his sleepy-state. Slipping into the guest room, your dropped onto your tummy, fishing with open hands under the bed. One by one, you pulled out wrapped gifts, one you’d collected and hid over the past several months, well and secretive. 

Keigo was kind enough to help you have an existence that didn’t require a job, not now at least. You’d dropped your full-time position sometime ago, after thorough discussion and a lot of internal turmoil. Keigo was more than happy to provide, feathers ruffling at even the opportunity to truly provide for you in such a way. Being home more meant Keigo could stop by at nearly anytime in his tumultuous schedule for a bit of welcomed and easily-given affection.

It also gave you time to spirit away during the day and gather presents and supplies for the holidays. 

You had an allowance to spend, one that you’d greedily gone all-out with in the weeks prior. There were more than enough enchanting markets and places to wander and gather from.

...

Pulling out the last gift, you carefully, quietly, began padding to the living room and positioning your new parcels under the tree. They joined the stacks already there, fineries and kindnesses Keigo had amassed. 

He deserved his own, of course.

You wondered how he did it. Keigo was one of the nations best heroes, who had the world on his shoulders most hours of the day, yet he still managed to make time for you, have energy for his little bird and all of your whims, so often mutually held. 

You wanted to spoil Keigo as well. 

He deserved it and you decided to provide if you could.

Once you arranged everything as you liked, you clicked the lights on and finished your own preparations. Slipping into a soft two-piece set (coordinating with one for Keigo, wrapped under the tree) and knit stockings that you settled at your mid-thighs, you started slipped away once more to make coffee.

Notably, it was early for you to be awake, especially after such a... long night before. Once or twice while you were on your knees arranging the gifts, you nearly gasped at your residual aches and pains. But, it was all worth it, even with your soreness and sleepy eyes.

It caught up with you as you yawned in the kitchen, patiently waiting for the gurgling coffee machine to finish brewing.

You gaze went wide as arms looped around your waist, clasping between your ribs. 

“Thought ya’ said you were coming back to bed,” Keigo whined against your neck. “Not making coffee. It’s too early, we need more sleep.”

You let a smile play on your lips, one he wouldn’t be able to see. 

“But I wanna open presents,” you whined, facing him with a spin and nuzzling your nose into his. “... Please?”

Keigo rose to his full height, eyebrows raised and looking as stunning as ever. Despite the bedhead and T that littered his shoulders the neck, he was still as effortlessly gorgeous as always.

He gave you a grin, golden and glowing and all for you, “Greedy, and this early too?”

You pushed out your bottom lip, giving him a sweet frown, “It’s Christmas, Kei’, please?”

Keigo dropped a quick and sharp slap to your outer thigh, one that had you falling against him with a yelp.

“Only because you’re so cute.”

He has no idea.

...

And Keigo didn’t. 

You dragged him by the wrist to the living room, decorated and fragrant with the lingering smell of evergreen and cedar candles. He slowed as the tree, something not-too grand but decorated with a hodgepodge of shared and crafted ornaments, came into view. 

Reverently, you watched his expression shift. He was most honest through his wings.

His hand squeezed your own, thumb rubbing yours as his wings fluttered a few times behind him, unbridled and unhindered in your presence (no pun intended.)

His gaze was glued to the extra stacks of gifts, done up with your own glimmering wrapping paper and handmade bows, “... What?” 

You couldn’t contain yourself any longer. 

You tugged him to the tree, dragging him down to the soft fabric at its base. Keigo was still somewhat frozen, almost rigid in your grip. Swallowing down any potential anxieties, your shifted so your knees touched, parallel.

“I am a little greedy, but I mostly wanted to surprise you,” You beamed, grabbing one of the most flimsy gift from the top of the stack. “You should open to this one first.”

Keigo’s gaze was still wide and owlish as he accepted the parcel from you, “... Why?”

“Look and see, daddy. I think you’ll like it.”

...

And fuck, did he. 

It was a simple set, just a soft long-sleeve and bottoms, lightly patterned with faint stars and moons. Still, Keigo noticed immediately as his gaze flickered from the fabric stretching over your thighs and the bundle he held in his hands.

“They... match?” Keigo wondered aloud, unable to stop the way his jaw fell open.

You beamed even brighter, if that was possible, “They do! So we can match today, and that’s just one of the things I got you!”

And Keigo got it. That entire fucking mountain of presents that rivaled the one he’d amassed for you belonged to him. 

He must’ve been staring at his, mouth still agape, for sometime.

Your wobbling voice pulled him from his stupor, “... Is t-this okay, daddy?” 

Keigo perked up, breath catching as you pawed at your face, eyes shining with little tears, “I wanted to surprise you, but I-I understand, t-this is a l-lot--”

“Hush,” Keigo quieted you, trying to keep his voice firm and authoritative enough while his wings flexed and trembled behind him. He gave his own shaking breath, tsking under his breath, “My little birds been planning and hiding such a big, precious secret from me? And got away with it? I’m impressed.”

You sniffled, tears already drying, “I was r-really sneaky. You had no idea.” 

He didn’t. Keigo had hardly noticed any sneaking around, and surely what he had picked up on, he didn’t connect to the sweet pile of gifts you acquired for him and the matching fucking pajamas--

His breath caught in his throat, eyes welling with his own tears, rare and precious. 

You wiped a bit of wetness off his cheek with a thumb, giving him a little, ever-attentive smile, “Do you want to change into those? Then we can open the rest?” 

Keigo tugged you forward, into his lap, thighs over his own to tuck you cheek into the crook of his neck, “I’d like that a lot, little bird.”

(You took care of him, as much as he took care of you, even if it was more implicit.)

And he hoisted you over one shoulder, starry loungewear over the other, carrying of with a flourish of high giggles and excitement for the day. 

[andraaste]

I am not your enemy - Lance fanfiction part 10

Well finally, chapter 10 is here sooner than expected ! Happy reading my friends 💕

Chapter 10 : You are very far from the account, my beautiful

- I've been doing quite a bit of research on the powers of aengels and dragons since the other night, and there is something I would like to try. But for that, you have to trust me a minimum.

- All right, tell me what to do.

Without warning, Lance grabbed my hand and held it in his, this one made slightly rough by its semi-transformation. He had no say in letting me understand what he was waiting for. Closing my eyes, I focused on the now familiar tingling sensations of the contact of his skin against mine. The latter, still weak, ran through my fingers with a pleasant feeling. It was soft, almost natural, as if my palm had only waited for this contact to finally feel completely itself.

Locked in the cold huge cage of his tanned hand, my fingers began to vibrate slightly as the comforting warmth of my powers began to roam my arm. One against the other, our palms seemed to constantly counterbalance two radically opposed temperatures, struggling to find a happy medium. Strangely, I felt soothed by this sudden contrast akin to a duel of fire and ice. It was a reflection of our interactions, at Lance and me.

Complex, yet intense.

When my light finally diffused through our fingers, I felt its quiver slightly as it gradually grew more confident. I visualized it penetrating his skin, running through his muscles, up to his arm. Exactly like his ice had done on my body two days earlier.

A slight breath escaped his lips, which made me open my eyes again and, for a moment, I couldn't take my gaze from the smile that marked his face.

A proud smile, and above all sincere.

I couldn't stop my lips from echoing his. My powers thus awakened, I felt fully myself, and it was powerful, exhilarating. My light took on vividness, of a color with equally warm hues, marking the skin of the dragon in multiple streaks similar to mine, like a multitude of beams of light. I could see my energy pouring into him, running through his veins, marking every one of his pores.

Suddenly, his ice mingled with my heat. The fine lines of lights that ran through his arm multiplied into new ones in bluish hues, these seeming more vivid than mine. With astonishment, I discovered them running through me in turn. Slowly, as if trying to perfectly marry those already existing, mingling with dissonance on my pale skin.

I was totally hypnotized by the spectacle that presented itself to me, so much so that it took me a while to notice that Lance had loosened his grip to come and let his fingers run languidly over my wrist, thus tracing invisible shapes against my skin. Several shivers ran through me under his slow movements and I wasn't sure he himself noticed what he was doing. Closing my eyes for a moment, I focused on the gentle, yet sure, movements the dragon made. So, as with Leiftan, I thought I felt an emotion that was not mine. A light feeling, close to admiration. Confused, I opened my eyelids and looked into his blue eyes.

Lance hadn't taken his eyes off me.

He suddenly understood what had just happened. Pulling on my wrist, he pulled me closer to him, bringing his lips to the hollow of my ear.

- Who allowed you to enter my head, little human ? he whispered to me.

His voice, both sweet and teasing, sent a shiver running down my spine. So I could feel his breath against my neck and knowing him so close to me made me both nervous and languid.

- It's you who is far too easy to read, I had nothing to do with it.

His weak laugh, with much more hoarse intonations than usual, grabbed all my attention.

- How did you do that ?

- I don’t know how to explain it. It happens to me sometimes in Leiftan's presence since we fought together, but I didn't think it was possible with anyone else.

The dragon imperceptibly contracted its jaws at the hearing of the aengel's first name.

- I see. Again, it's probably because of this exchange of powers, he told me, pausing a little before resuming, a slightly more sullen tone. So does that mean you feel his emotions ?

- It happens sometimes, yes, I answered him innocently.

He let out a much less jovial laugh as he leaned on the dresser behind him, his back arched slightly in my direction. Never breaking the link between our skins, he nonchalantly put his hand that still held mine on one of his thighs, his palm up, leaving me free to withdraw it if I wished.

- I guess he's still overflowing with sweet feelings for you.

I gave him a heavy look, which he answered with a vague shrug.

- Don't look at me like that, you had to be blind not to see what he felt for you. I remind you that I spent a lot of time with him and I can assure you that he only had your name in his mouth.

It’s true that Ashkore and Leiftan had been allies, there was a time.

I realized that, when he behaved so relaxed around me, like a moment ago, Lance sometimes managed to make me forget this tumultuous past that we shared. And I had to admit that these moments, however fleeting they were, were sometimes pleasant.

- Nothing ever happened between Leiftan and me, his feelings have always been one-sided and to be honest, I think he felt that much because I was like him. What's more, I was with Nevra at that time.

My interlocutor observed me for a moment without saying anything.

- Andraste, you can believe me when I tell you that he fell madly in love with you the moment you arrived. It's not just a matter of race, although I can understand that it sounds appealing. I myself was curious as to why you were so important to him, but I came to understand that he was just really infatuated with you. On the other hand, I'm intrigued that you still feel his emotions if this phenomenon dates from the battle, he added.

I pondered his words. Leiftan's feelings for me troubled me, I didn't know what to think.

- I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe spending the last few years together in the Crystal has brought us closer together, who knows ?

Lance winced slightly at hearing the theory that didn't seem to please him much, it seemed.

How was it possible that I could feel their deepest emotions, and most importantly, why didn't they seem to feel mine in return ? I didn't understand a thing. I had convinced myself that this was the result of our aengel powers, but why was this also happening with the dragon ?

Our conversation having distracted me, I realized that my light still continued to shine weakly on his skin, running under the sleeve of his top. And it was... simple. Without any effort to provide. I then remembered a detail. During our training several days ago, when my powers had reactivated as anger had risen in me, their color had turned whitish, totally cold. While at this precise moment, the latter shone a much more orange hue, pouring a pleasant sensation down my muscles. Did my emotions interfere with the process ?

Catching me off guard, Lance pulled on my wrist and pulled me even closer to him. So brought together, I could make out every detail of the scales that dotted her neck and jaw, they bewitching me with their almost unreal shades.

- I don’t hide from you that I don’t hope that it’s the case, he said to me in a deep and low voice, making my heart beat a little faster without me knowing why.

- And why is that, exactly ?

His gaze became more penetrating. He raised an eyebrow as I leaned in a little more, until I in turn came to press my lips close to his ear.

- Oh by the way, if you could stop calling me "little human" when you light up the room with my powers, I added lower.

I felt his lips widen against me as he slid a hand through my hair to reposition it behind my ear.

- A human with two or three powers, at most. I wait a little better to be blown away.

Angered, I pulled back to slap him on the shoulder with my free hand. Lance rubbed the affected area before laughing frankly at my daring.

- You are easily offended.

- And you should avoid letting your guard down in my presence, you know that I tend to get carried away a little.

- I thought I noticed it, indeed. But I guess I tend to like it myself, he said with a mischievous sneer.

We stared at each other for several long seconds, a silly smile stuck on our faces as our hands seemed unwilling to let go. Positioned in this way, our bodies standing far too close to each other to remain conventional, I felt strangely relaxed. And when his eyes suddenly drifted lower, peering down at my mouth with some undisguised curiosity, I found myself wondering what would happen if our lips met. If the simple contact of our skin had such virtues, what would it be in the face of more privacy ? I had the impression that each of my emotions was heightened tenfold in his presence, and like an addiction, I had this impression always wanting more, never to be entirely satisfied.

Lance seemed to recover and I was surprised to see his scales slowly resorbing.

- We're going to stop there for tonight, he said softly as he began to regain his human form.

His skin finally returned to its usual appearance and quickly, no more draconian attributes marked Lance's body.

Cautiously letting go of my hand, he let his fingers run along my skin until only emptiness caught up with me. The broken link, our powers diminished in liveliness, descending the lines drawn on our respective skins in the opposite direction, to the tips of our fingers. Disappearing totally, I felt a cold suddenly embrace me as the warmth of my light and the coldness of his ice no longer caressed me.

I was cold for the first time since waking up, and I felt that as I left Lance's coolness.

The dragon leaned a little more against the edge of the dresser and observed me for a moment without saying anything, as if lost in an internal reflection that he didn’t seem to want to share with me. Suddenly, he raised an arm and came to rub a loving hand through my hair, catching me totally off guard.

- Well done, Andraste. I had my doubts you'd make it, but ultimately I'm impressed, he told me as he slowly pulled his fingers away from my scalp, pouting mockingly.

I crossed my arms, an eyebrow raised in annoyance.

- You really don't have any hope in me, actually.

His soft laughter echoed again as he finally pulled away from his prop. Leaning over me once again, his large figure towering over me completely, he whispered to me, like a secret :

- If you knew what I think of you... you are very far from the account, my beautiful.

(Chapter 11)

[lovelytarou]

fixer upper — sero hanta

pairing: sero hanta x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1.5k

a/n: i'm sorry this took so long, but this got longer than intended and i'm proud to announce that i am a sero simp now 🤧 part 6/7 of the event!!! also sorry for the header my braincells run out and it was p last minute, this is also not proofread

having sero as your lover has been amazing. he's a gentleman, he's patient with you, he understood you, and most of all he cares for you more than he liked to admit. 

your relationship consisted of showing each other your endless affection through actions, words and in many ways you both possibly could. one of your favorites about sero's way of showing his love to you is by paying attention to the smallest disarray in you and fixing it. 

you admit that you loved it when he doted on you, fussed over you like a mother hen would. but it just shows even in the trivial things, you see that he cared. 

it made your heart race and beat wildly inside your ribcage that prisoned your restless heart whenever he does so. leaning close to you unknowingly, his breath fanning your face and mingling with yours, feeling his warmth, seeing the crease in his eyebrows as he tried to fix whatever it is he found in your physique. 

you'd thank him right after. claiming that 'you didn't notice' and proceed as if nothing happened. as if what he just did didn't make you fall for him harder and as if you didn't do it intentionally. 

that's why you took your date night as the perfect opportunity to 'test' your boyfriend and see just how far his limits go with him being caring for you. call it a little social experiment without his knowledge. it's not to take advantage of him, but more like, a challenge perhaps. 

before exiting your shared bedroom, you made sure you let one strand of hair untucked and the necklace that he gave you lie on top of your collar bones in the wrong way.

you greeted him with a smile, ready and giddy for tonight. he looked handsome as ever with his usual self. hell, he can wear whatever and you'd still find him gorgeous and breathtaking. 

“wow,” he breathed out in shock as if he just saw you for the first time. “you look stunning,” 

“thank you, you look...hot.” you complimented him back, not without your face feeling hot which he so definitely noticed. 

he stared at you in awe for a minute or two. you counted in your head, it was only a matter of time before he's unable to resist himself. the slight movement of his hand caught your eye and it was already moving to tuck the loose hair behind your ear, beaming at you with a starry gaze. 

“let's go?” he offered his arm for you to take and you both walked out of the house. 

and it was the perfect opportunity to execute the second step of the plan. it was rather chilly out that night, good thing you purposely left your coat inside the house and now as you're rubbing your arms, sero definitely noticed how you shivered in your bones. 

“i told you to always bring a jacket, my love.” he had a worried frown on his face but nevertheless, took off his own jacket and placed it on the top of your shoulders like the gentleman he is. your heart just about celebrated inside your chest at the action even though you had planned it all along. 

 his jacket and his shirts that you loved to wear even if sometimes they don't fit you, offered their services when he was busy during work and he wasn't there to cuddle you. they became your secondary source of comfort while he's away. 

“i know, but i love it when you lend me yours.” you smirked up at him, snuggling close. “plus it smells better, smells like you.” it smells like home, is what you wanted to say.

“you're lucky you're cute,” he teased, kissing your temple as you both walked towards the designated place you're going to have your date. 

it was a lovely retro looking restaurant. granted, not many people are around at that time but it's because sero may have slipped in a coin or two just so no one else will bother you. it took your breath away – the scene can only be seen from the movies or posters alike. they even have old songs playing inside the diner and the staff have uniforms that fit the theme. 

“hanta, this is amazing!” you giggled like a child on christmas. it truly was amazing, they even had their own jukebox at the corner, and the decors are what you really loved. you made a mental note to take a photo here later. 

“it definitely is,” sero mumbled back, eyes focused on you as yours roamed with newfound wonder at the place. he loved that awestruck look on your face, immortalizing it in his mind and happy that he get to be the one to put it on your beautiful visage. 

he led you both to a booth and sat down. not a moment longer, a waitress walked up to the two of you to get your orders. after that, you were both left alone as you waited. 

you stared back at sero in slight confusion, patiently waiting for him to bite into your next plan which he still hadn't noticed yet. 

that was an exaggeration, obviously, but you were thankful for this date night tonight. you were just adding a bit of spice to it per se. 

“how did you know about this place?” you attempt at small talk, anything to divert yourself from talking about your motives for tonight. you're not going to lie, you appreciated that he made time for the two of you to have a date despite him being busy all the time with his work that he barely get to squeeze in this date night without going through so many obstacles and yet here you are, analyzing him like a scientist pointing a magnifying glass on an ant. 

“oh, i once stopped here for some coffee then i thought i should probably get you here someday because this place is awesome and you definitely need to try their food!” sero enthusiastically explained, eyes sparkling in excitement as he animatedly moved his arms while talking.

on that note, the waitress was back carrying a tray of food you ordered. after thanking her, you both digged in and started eating. sero was right, their food was worth trying. 

“this is so good!” you moaned after taking mouthfuls of your burger.

“i feel like i'm in heaven,” sero added, eyes closing as he bite into his. 

“we definitely need to go back here again, babe.” their burger was like a luxury and you wanted to savor every last moment of it. your tastebuds and senses were clearly satisfied and you can't wait to go back for more. 

“wait,” he put down his burger and grabbed a few napkins. he leaned across the table to gently hold your face in place, the other holding a napkin dabbing softly at the mess you have made on yourself while eating. 

at last, he had succumbed to the next step.

fighting back a smile, you thanked him and proceeded to eat. the both of you stayed at the diner for as long as you could, mainly to not disturb the ambience you both created and because you still wanted to stay there longer with your lover.

once you're completely satisfied, you both walked out and basked in the chilly night air. sero's arm hugged you close to his warm body as you strolled peacefully as if you have all the time in the world. well it was peaceful until he turned to you with a focused expression. 

“i can't believe you'd go out looking like that,” he clicked his tongue in mock annoyance, shaking his head as he leaned closer and he finally, finally noticed the necklace that's been sitting on the wrong way dangling on your neck. 

you can't help the smile stretching your lips at his kind act, letting him do his thing. his soft, gentle fingertips arranging the cold metal of his initial on your neck before sliding up the necklace and onto the side of your neck. 

you were no longer smiling as the spaces between you two became smaller and smaller. he stared deep into your eyes, his searching and absolutely in awe of you no matter how frazzled you look, you know he's ready to fix it in a heartbeat. the moonlight shining from behind him along with the twinkling stars truly provided a romantic, dreamy and magical background to the same thing you are feeling right now. 

he took your breath away for the nth time that night – his plump (and burger tasting) lips met yours, massaging and moving against each other in a slow dance, caressing it softly and then you felt his wet tongue poke at the corners of your lips and you can't help but mash it with your own, the kiss turning passionate as you slid your arms up – wrapping it around his neck while his own hands went down to your waist. 

it felt like eternity after he pulled away, eyes hazy and a faint blush you weren't able to see due to the low lighting of the place but you certainly felt the heat emanating from it. yours were heating up from the passionate kiss you shared, smiling at each other filled with nothing but affection. 

“you had ketchup on your lips,” sero chuckled before pulling you close as you walked home. 

general taglist: @chibishae34 @bukojuiice @heyheysey

[shokami]

Just like Honey

featuring ; akaashi ( 1k+ words )

genre ; valentine’s day, post time-skip, domestic fluff.

warnings ; mild suggestive content

Everything was so warm. The pure cotton of the sheets, unimaginably soft against your skin as your legs tangled in the endearing safety it offered. The quilt that dangled over your body, barely hanging on as it threatened to spill to the floor. The breath that fanned over one of the many pillows that surrounded you, ricocheting back into your face softly with ease. The rays of the morning sun, enveloping you whole as it meant to stir you from your sleep. Sometimes you had wondered if the sun would ever be mad at you. Everyone else in the world would roll over, strings of groans and whines leaving their lips from exhaustion as they cursed the flaming star in the sky. You, however? You basked in the warmth that it offered, closed your eyes tighter, stretched your arms in the array of blankets, and moved closer to the beams of light that peaked through the curtains. The environment was so warm, and inviting— surely you could just drift back to sleep.

Your limbs once again stretched out, followed by a squeal-ish yawn. Just a few more minutes, you thought to yourself. The extra moments you sought shattered when your fingertips grazed the spot next to you in bed. Empty. Why was it empty? Maybe Akaashi had an early meeting that you had forgotten about. He could have mentioned it. In the past several years of your relationship, it was never unusual to wake up without Akaashi by your side. Most times he would sneak back into your bedroom, and give you the sweetest lingering kiss before he went off to work. That was one of the curses of being an editor for Shonen Jump Magazine. Always busy, always editing. Other times, however, you would wake up with his side empty due to you enjoying sleeping in a little later than he did. You were both early birds, but Akaashi still had you beat by an hour at least. You always found him hovering over a freshly brewed coffee, or editing a new piece. Aside from the habit not being unusual for either one of you, it was still Valentine’s day...

Valentine's day was meant for the two of you sleeping in together.

The thought of spending the day alone crossed your mind momentarily, you couldn’t focus too hard on the topic as your eyes slowly drifted shut once more. The spreading warmth lulling your back to your deep slumber.

You weren’t sure how much longer sleep consumed you, but you could only assume it wasn’t as long as your body tried to convince you. A soft weight pushed down a side of the mattress, and you could feel a presence looming over you. The smell of bacon and pancakes wafted through your nostrils, luring you out from underneath the pile of bedding that devoured you.

Cold fingers brushed against your cheek, pushing a single strand of hair behind your ear. “Pretty girl, it’s time to wake up,” Akaashi mumbled, just loud enough for you to hear.

With a confused noise, you lifted your head and glanced up to see your boyfriend staring down with a look of adoration. “‘kaashi? I thought you left.”

Sitting up slowly in the bed, you pulled all the covers around you and snuggled further into the pillows against the headboard. You knew your assumption had been wrong now, as you notice Akaashi still wearing the clothes he fell asleep in the previous night. With yet another yawn, you made room underneath the blankets for Akaashi while he slid into the bed next to you; pulling the tray of breakfast foods in front of the two of you. Your hand flew to your mouth, trying to silence the laughs at the sad attempt of heart-shaped pancakes with blueberries in the center. They were poorly shaped, but your heart swelled with warmth at the sheer effort he put into your relationship constantly. He always tried to do little things like this for you, it didn’t matter to him if it was Valentine’s day or not. The holiday was just an excuse for him to spoil you even more.

“Don’t laugh, Yn. I thought it would have been easier— but shaping pancakes is no easy task.” Akaashi complained at your laughter, but he still smiled at your reaction despite it.

You shook your head, quickly chewing a bite of the fluffy pancake before you tilted your head to look at him. “They’re cute, kaashi! I love them, and I love you even more!”

Akaashi gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, holding your attention for longer than you attended. “Did you really think I would leave you all alone, during Valentine’s day love?” His thumb traced the outline of your bottom lip, enticing you completely.

That was the thing about him. Akaashi never had to do anything specific to jumble your thoughts and spread that warmth to your cheeks. He did it almost effortlessly, and most times he didn’t even mean to! The simplest gesture could turn you to putty in his hands, as long as he did it just right. He adored that about you, really. His sweet little girlfriend, all innocent and cute— yet so affected by the small things. He swore he could re-fall in love with you every single morning, harder than the day before. You reminded him of honey, tooth-rotting sweetness, that was so delicious. Yet, you also reminded him of a winter morning. You shined so brightly like the sun, but in an elegant manner. He was the snowfall, and your rays of light warmed right through him. Being so absorbed with literature his entire life, Akaashi could find a thousand different words to describe how he felt... He could describe the emotions that ran through his body every time he laid his eyes on you, with a million more. My sweet honey.

“No,” You began to finally answer his question, distracted by the way he devoured your essence with his eyes alone. “I just thought that perhaps you had something work-related to take care of... We usually sleep in, and you weren’t here when I woke up.”

Akaashi rolled his eyes. Releasing your chin, he poked your nose before looking down at the plate in front of him as he began to eat his own breakfast. “I wouldn’t leave without telling you, Yn. You know that.”

“Shut up, I know! I was just sad.” You replied, dramatizing your words. “I think your pancakes are dumb!” you couldn’t help but laugh, knowing it wasn’t true.

Akaashi considered saying nothing, and not entertaining your antics. Your flair for dramatics always so high, after he teased you. “You think they’re dumb, hm?”

“... Yes,” you mumbled.

Before you processed that he was confiscating your breakfast, you just watched him pick up your plate and empty the food into his own. “KEIJI WHAT THE HELL?!”

“You said you hated them, love. So I’ll eat them for you, instead.” He glanced over at you to see your reaction and smirked at your outburst. You sat up on your knees beside him, glaring.

“You know what else I hate? You.” You took the plate from his grasp, sitting it back on the tray, and moving it to the nightstand. After anything breakable was set aside, you jumped on-top of Akaashi and knocked him down against your growing pile of pillows.

“Do you really hate me though?” He asked with a fake pout, both of his hands coming to rest underneath your jaw.

“Yes, I do,” you stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

A hum of disapproval, “That’s not what you said last night.”

“AKAASHI KEIJI!”

“No, no. I think it sounded more like, ‘Keiji, please!’” Akaashi couldn’t help but to smirk, you were too easy to get a rise out of. He loved it, and he knew he could have you blushing and babbling for him in seconds if he really wanted to.

“Wrong, actually! I moaned out ‘kaashi, not Keiji. I can do that for you tonight though.” you stated. Now it was his turn to blush. You usually didn’t fight back against his endless teasing, but it always came as a pleasant surprise.

Akaashi smiled at you. He was at such ease and peace within this phase of his life, he could live in this movement forever. With a soft kiss, you closed your eyes and caved into the warmth of his embrace.

Just like honey...

“Happy Valentine’s day to us.”

© All rights reserved by SHOKAMI. Do not modify, repost on any platforms, plagiarize, or claim as your own.

[sevlgi]

don’t want to see you

requested: yes

group: blackpink

pairing: jennie x fem!reader

genre: angst, questionable fluff

contents: fashion designer!au, rough breakup

warnings: none

synopsis: After your terrible breakup 4 years ago, you’re the last person Jennie wants to see at her dream job.

a/n: I accidentally did 4 years instead of two but eh... I’m glad you enjoy my writing!

word count: 2.4k

“This is it, huh?”

Jennie laughs as Jisoo wipes a fake tear away, pouting as she opened her arms for a hug. “Stop pretending to be sad, unnie, you know you’re glad to be rid of me.”

“Never!” the older girl protests, arms wrapping around Jennie. Under the cold winter sky, Jisoo is a source of familiarity and warmth that’s all too hard to let go of. “But I am glad you got this position. It’s been your dream for such a long time, and you gave up your first opportunity for… her.”

As soon as the mention of you slipped out of her mouth, Jisoo winces; she knows that over 4 years after your breakup, Jennie’s still not over you, not in the slightest. The younger girl forces a smile, hitching her designer bag up her shoulder a bit as she detaches herself from her friend. “Yeah. Thanks for sending me off, I’m off to be a successful adult now.”

“Rude!” Jisoo calls out, hands on her hips but a smile beaming across her face. She hopes that Jennie isn’t too affected by her words, and that nothing spoils the day her friend has been looking forward to for years. “I’ll have you know I’m a perfectly successful actress!” She continues waving until she’s just a tiny dot, her younger friend passing through the building’s gate.

Even the air smells fancy, Jennie notes as she steps through the revolving doors. She’s glad she wore an expensive outfit, no matter how cold the skirt is-- name brands are practically glued onto every person in the building. Filtered sunlight shines off of silk scarves and glimmers over fine dresses, heels clicking on the glossy marble floors. Various colognes and perfumes mix in the air, and Jennie inhales with a grin. This is her new life, the one that she’s wanted and worked for ever since she was a child.

The elevator ride up is lonely, of course, but she recognizes the frosted glass door she passes through to reach the office of the man who interviewed her for the position in the first place. “Ms. Kim,” Taehyung greets her, his voice deep and gentle. “Good to see you.”

“You too, Mr. Kim,” Jennie bows politely. Despite the fact that she’s only a year younger than him, he’s interestingly intimidating. “Ah, I thought you said my partner would greet me today?”

Taehyung nods, hands fidgeting with the Gucci blazer he wears. “Yes, we decided your new partner yesterday. Y/N’s just a bit busy, though, so she sent me to greet you first. Come with me to the elevator, your studio’s on another floor.”

Y/N. Jennie’s blood runs cold at your name even as she scurries to keep up with the man’s long legs, memories of screaming and slamming doors suddenly fading into her mind. She does her best to shake it off, though; it’s not like you’re the only person ever with that name. The world doesn’t revolve around her, never mind her shitty relationship from years before. “Oh. I see.”

Professional chatter about work fills the elevator ride; Taehyung’s already a senior at the company and a prodigy with fashion. Honestly, he could be a model as well as a designer, Jennie thinks as he smiles politely, opening her new office door for her. “Please.”

To no surprise, the studio is gorgeous, with floor-to-ceiling windows and sparkling modern furniture. Gorgeous swaths of fabric are displayed on benches all over the room, golden mannequins draped with clothing. Jennie doesn’t stop an exhilarated gasp from escaping her lips as she reaches to touch one of the designs splayed out on the table, and she also doesn’t stop the horrified one when she recognizes the signature on the paper.

Just in time, Taehyung’s deep voice sounds behind her. “Y/N, glad you could make it.”

Jennie turns quickly to face the doorway, and her heart leaps up into her throat as a far too familiar face greets her.

You look a hundred times better than the last time Jennie saw you, she has to admit that. The fancy outfit, probably something you made yourself by the looks of it, suits you perfectly, and your makeup is probably professionally done.

At the sight of her, your jaw drops, though you recover quick enough that your shared supervising officer doesn’t have a reason to suspect anything out of the ordinary. “Hi. Y/N Y/L/N,” you introduce yourself as you stick a hand out to shake. “You must be Jennie Kim.”

“That’s me,” she breathes, still a bit horrorstruck at the sight of you. It’s so difficult to pretend not to know you when Jennie still remembers every inch of you; she almost shudders when she remembers the way your skin felt under her fingertips. “You’re my new partner?”

“Yep,” you nod, biting down on your lip. Jennie remembers that habit of yours; it got annoying sometimes, when you tasted of blood. “I am.”

Taehyung smiles, “Y/N, I expect you to take care of Ms. Kim. I think the two of you will get on well. For now, I’ll leave the two of you to become acquainted, and Jennie, take all the time you need to become comfortable. Please, ask me if you need anything.”

As soon as the elevator door closes again, Jennie relaxes and you go rigid. Her eyes widen as she hisses, “What’re you doing here? Since when are you a fashion designer, Y/N?”

“Oh, good to see you too,” you scoff, turning away and plopping into your desk chair. To her annoyance, you’ve already occupied the side of the room with the better lighting. “I see you’re just as rude as when we broke up, Jennie Kim. No tact or professionalism at all; how did you even get hired?”

“For my talent,” Jennie scowls, crossing her arms defensively. “And you really expect a hello after that disaster? Remember when you got me evicted from my apartment, and we fought for days in a row?”

You sigh and pinch the area between your eyebrows. “I told you time and time again, that wasn’t my fault. It’s just like you to blame me for your own failures, no wonder I got your dream position years before you did.”

An incredulous gasp escapes Jennie’s lips as she tosses her bag down on her desk. From the start, it was an insecurity of hers that you were more accomplished, more successful than her, and she still never expected you to throw it back in her face. “Real mature, Y/N. Did you really usurp my position just to spite me? How childish.”

“I didn’t usurp anything, Jennie.” Standing suddenly, you’re eye-to-eye with Jennie, and she can smell the familiar perfume you’ve always worn. Your eyes are narrowed in anger, nose scrunching in anger. “I have my own dreams too, aside of you, but you’ve never seen that. You’ve always seen me as an object, without my own capability of thought.”

“That-- that’s not true.” She curses herself for stuttering, drawing her chin up. You’re barely inches away from her face, nails digging into your biceps with your arms crossed. “You know what, Y/N? I hoped you changed in these past 4 years, and I hoped that we could stay civil, but you obviously have remained just as much of an asshole as you always were.”

Rounding her desk and sitting down in her chair with a huff, Jennie pulls her computer closer to her. It’s just her luck to see the person she never wanted to see again on her so-called perfect day.

Weeks pass without you and Jennie holding a real, full conversation; to be honest, she knows that any single word out of your mouth would sound rude and conniving, even if you didn’t mean it that way. You fight over the stupidest things- did Jennie take your stapler? Did you take hers? What about that nice sweater you left in the office overnight?

Suffice to say, it’s nothing less than miserable.

Jennie finds solace in Joohyun, who was the one to recommend her for the job. The older woman knows plenty about the disastrous breakup years ago, and is a perfect source of good advice.

“Are you sure you’re not still harboring feelings for her?”

Okay, maybe not-so-good advice.

Spluttering, Jennie coughs on the sandwich she was eating for lunch, Joohyun’s gentle taps on her shoulder not really helping. A few other coworkers stare as they pass by in the cafeteria. “What?”

The other woman shrugs, delicately sipping at a cup of coffee. “You’re obviously not over her, and she you, if you’re still fighting over stupid things. If you didn’t like her anymore and simply hated her, you’d just ignore her existence.”

Jennie scowls, patting at her lips. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. We were miserable in our relationship, Joohyun unnie, and she broke my heart.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t still love her.” The brunette sounds sage, as wise as the demure blue silk blazer she wears. “You need to have a good talk with her, without shouting or arguing. Get your feelings out in the open, no matter what they may be.”

The younger girl pouts, chewing contemplatively. It’s highly unlikely that you’ll ever agree to a talk with her, as hostile as you are. Maybe Jennie’ll just have to survive like this, arguing with her partner.

She can survive anything for her dream job.

Jennie stares in shock at the huge pieces of fabric missing from every single one of the 5 dresses she was working on, skirts and bodices alike ripped to shreds. “What. In the hell?”

She slams her coffee down on one of the desks, not caring of the brown liquid splatters all over the papers that just happen to be yours. Her eyes sweep the room, narrowing in rage when she finds all of your projects completely untouched.

“Holy shit,” she hears behind her, and swirls to find you standing in the doorway, mouth agape in shock. “Um, that’s an… innovative design?”

Lunging forward, Jennie’s hands connect with your chest, pushing you into the wall. “Did you do it?” she shouts, barely noticing that you flinch when she raises her voice. “I thought you were better than this!”

“I…” You’re lost for words, seeing the sheer anger in your ex-girlfriend’s eyes. “I didn’t! I swear! You have to believe me, Jennie, I wouldn’t stoop so low.”

Her forearm slams into your chest again; you wince, not at the pain, but just at how evil of a person you must be in her eyes. “I don’t.” Her voice is flat and cold as she seethes, “I get it if you hate me, but don’t sabotage me like this. You know better than anyone how important this job is to me.”

She lets go, stumbling back a bit as she stares at her hands. Your sound raw when you ask, “Is that what kind of a person you think I am? Jennie, I may have hurt you, but I’m not evil.”

The other girl bites her lip; some part of her wants to apologize, and another part of her- damn. Maybe Joohyun was right after all. “I don’t care. Stay away from me, Y/N. It doesn’t matter if we’re partners, I don’t want to see your face.”

“Ms. Kim?”

Taehyung knocks on the open door of the studio, stepping inside. His eyes widen at the sight of the fabric shreds that Jennie sweeps into a dustpan. “Ah.”

“Please, call me Jennie.” The girl bows and attempts at a professional smile, though she’s sure that anger still twitches in her eyebrow. “What can I do for you, Mr. Kim?”

“Taehyung, then,” he says kindly. “Someone reported that your designs were destroyed? I came to take a look and evaluate what should be done. This is much more serious than I thought it would be.”

Jennie frowns; she doesn’t believe that it wasn’t you, but she also isn’t the kind of person to be so petty as to ruin your career. “Yes. I’m not sure who did it, and I’d like to know who.”

Holding a shred of fabric between his forefinger and thumb, Taehyung raises an eyebrow. “You don’t have any suspicions at all? Not… your partner, perhaps?”

“Why would you say that?” Jennie lowers her dustpan, schooling herself to look expressionless as she says, “Y/N is just my partner. I have no history with her whatsoever.”

Sighing, the tall man turns with his hands in her pockets. “Jennie, Y/N came clean as soon as Joohyun suggested you for the position. She told me that you two have… a past, and that she feels terrible about it. She requested you to become her new partner, actually.”

Silence falls between the two designers, Jennie stepping back as if to shield herself from information she doesn’t want to know. “What? You must be mistaken. If Y/N told you that she’s my ex, you must know that she hates me.”

Taehyung walks a bit closer, a soft smile on his face when. “Look, Jennie, I know her. She regrets hurting you, I promise, and she’d never want to sabotage you like this. You need to talk with her.”

His shoulder just barely brushes up against Jennie’s as he walks out, pausing at the door to reassure her, “We are reviewing security footage, though, and I promise we’ll have an answer for you soon.”

Once he’s gone, Jennie’s left alone, staring at the shredded remnants of her projects on her desk.

Can it really be that you don’t hate her?

Jennie stares at the bowing employee, Taehyung smiling cheerfully at his desk. You avoid her eyes, counting ceiling tiles where you sit. “This is him, Jennie. He sabotage you. Would you like to tell why?”

The employee looks almost scared as Jennie crosses her arms, eyes flicking to yours and Taehyung’s. “I… was jealous. I wanted to be Y/N’s new partner. I should’ve been the first choice, not someone random that a senior recommended!”

Even as he explains himself, Jennie can only find herself staring at you; when your eyes meet, Jennie’s struck by just how much she’s missed you in the past 4 years. A soft smile from you elicits a feeling she hasn’t known since you left her, a feeling other than heartbreak or anger.

Taehyung fires the employee on the spot, and Jennie feels like she’s in a daze the entire time. After being kicked out of the office so that Taehyung can work, she avoids meeting your eyes in the hallway. “So…”

“I hope you don’t still believe that it was me,” you interrupt, stepping a bit closer to Jennie. “I know I hurt you, Joohyun told me how heartbroken you were. I’ve changed since then, Jen.”

The nickname’s nostalgic, and Jennie is startled when she feels a tear pricking at her eye. “I… I know. I’m sorry for thinking it was you in the first place, I should’ve known.”

Your hand brushes under her chin, tilting Jennie’s face up so that she can meet your eyes. Your expression is soft, no longer guarded, and emotion pulls at the corner of your lips. “I don’t blame you. Breaking up with you was the worst decision of my life, Jen. If you’d let me, I’d like to make it right.”

“What, you want to be together again? It doesn’t work like that, Y/N.” The other girl wipes furiously at her eyes with her hand, not caring if her makeup smears. “You might regret it, but you really did hurt me.”

“Yeah. I did. And I’m not asking to be together again.” You inhale, the corners of your own eyes a little bit wet. “I’m asking for you to forgive me, with time. Give me a second chance, just let me become your friend again. That’s all I want.”

A second chance. Do you even deserve a second chance? Jennie wonders. After everything you did to her, do you deserve to be let in her heart again?

But as you search her eyes for an answer, suddenly so much older and wiser than she remembered you, Jennie knows.

Her hand reaches for yours, soft fingers curling around yours as she smiles, “I’ll try.”

[whats-rambled-rambled]

Long Nights - part 7

Neil x Reader

Chapter 7: Wicked game

(see chapter 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1)

summary: it’s time to come back to life, and sometimes it involves Neil dragging you to a social event

warnings: 18+, language, alcohol mention (beer is considered alcohol, right?)

author’s note: 3k words. It’s not exactly what I had in mind for that chapter, but they have a mind of their own, as always. 

Almost there.

The song for this part is Stone Sour - Wicked Game (acoustic, live)

Enjoy and let me know what you think, please? All feedback is greatly appreciated.

——————

Tag list: @cxnnienikas​ @neutron-stars-collision​ @ergunbilge​ @invertedneil​ @wanderedaway​ @i-wanna-b-yours​ @wonderwoman292​ @buckysgoldenheart​ @townmoondaltwistle @theriverbeneaththeriver​ (please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list)

-----

It didn’t matter how many times you saw him do that, the effect the sight had on you was pretty much always the same. Filling your mind with thoughts that were quite counterproductive, one could say.

The veiny patterns covering hands and forearms. The long fingers running through the buttons. The tilted chin, extending the neck, drawing attention to that impossible jawline. The slight pout. The brows drawn together in concentration--

You smacked your tongue and shook your head

“Y’know what, those shirts of yours are so rude, but the way you wear them, the rolled-up sleeves?”

Neil looked at you through the reflection in the mirror, puzzled. “What about them?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely disrespectful,” you sighed heavily and leaned against the door frame.

Playful lights danced in the blue eyes. “Oh yeah?” he teased, giving himself a final glance-over before turning to you. “And what you’re gonna do about it?”

“Nothing,” - you shrugged, crossing your arms - “because you insist on dragging me to a social event.”

The faint resentment ringing in your last words didn’t get lost on Neil.

“So boring of me,” he said as he closed the gap between you, trying to keep a straight face. He put his hands on your waist and smirked. “But maybe after that we can come back here and continue the conversation.”

As you fixed his collar, a shade of smile hid in the corner of your mouth.

“Really wanna listen to me listing all the things that drive me mad about you, huh?” you asked smugly, gliding your fingertips along the delicate stripes of the greyish beige shirt.

Neil’s thumbs brushed over your hip bones as he hummed, “I have a feeling it might lead to a rather pleasant conclusion.”

When you let out an amused scoff, his lips captured the snarky comment that was bound to follow. He pulled you closer and lifted you up, and the next second you were sitting on the edge of a vanity cabinet, breathless from the kiss, tugging at the striped shirt.

A buzz right next to you.

You jumped, startled, and glared at the phone. “Is it too late to tell Matthias the Uber driver that we’re not going anywhere?” you asked without too much hope as you nuzzled your face to Neil’s neck, breathing in his scent, unwilling to let this moment end too quickly.

Neil chuckled and stroked your arms. “Come on, it’s gonna be fun.”

You still didn’t know where he was taking you - he’d assured you that it would be casual, and that was basically all you cared about. He knew you enough, and you trusted his judgement, after all.

“It better be,” you pouted, pulling back, but as soon as you met the bright blue eyes your heart sang in your chest. After spending all that time in the darkness, not sure if you’d ever see his face again, you caught yourself taking an extra second every now and then, just looking at him. How the light played on his features, now soft in the elaborately illuminated hotel bathroom. How his lips curled whenever he found your gaze. How utterly stunning he was.

Smiling gently, you ran your fingers through Neil’s disheveled mane, taming the blonde mess if ever so slightly.

“Let’s not keep Matthias waiting, then,” you sighed and slid off the cabinet.

-------

The afternoon was quite warm for late autumn. As you were arriving at your destination, you watched the sun shining through the scarce leaves left on the trees, adding vibrance to their colours. Too mesmerized to pay attention to the route, you recognized the place only when the car stopped. The training site. You turned to Neil in confusion, but he just wiggled his brows and proceeded to thank the driver and got out of the car. You followed him out and right through the gate of the now-empty paintball outdoor facility which served as a front for the agency’s base, hidden a bit further inside the forest.

“Picking up something on the way?” you asked, matching his pace as you strolled towards the training grounds.

Neil shook his head and smiled mysteriously. “Not really.”

“Alrighty then, keep your secrets,” you snorted, rolling your eyes. “Aren’t we a tad overdressed for a little playground fun, though?”

“A rematch?” he pondered and smirked. “Didn’t plan on that, but it’s tempting.”

Indeed. “I’m kinda out of shape, but keep those baggy trousers on and I’m game - wanna beat you fair and square again.”

Neil let out an exasperated huff. “Baggy?! They might be a bit loose but --”

You giggled at his offended expression as he got busy looking down at the target of your remark, ready to defend his fashion choice. Your laughter was enough to stop Neil in his tracks, and when he met your playful gaze, he reached out and drew you into his arms for a tight hug. After a brief moment of perplexity, you eased into his embrace, moved by the force of sudden affection.

When he pulled back, you touched his cheek. “What was that for?” you asked, searching the blue eyes, but finding nothing but joy there.

“Being cheeky.” He scrunched his nose while tapping the tip of yours. “And brilliant,” he added, and for a second you were sure there was something else he wanted to say; instead, he laid a gentle kiss on your lips. “And maybe stalling a minute longer before I’d have to share you with all these people.”

You gaped at him, about to ask what people, but Neil already grabbed your hand and led you around the corner of the building - and you heard them even before you spotted them.

“Oi, there they are!”

“Finally!”

“We’ve just considered sending a rescue party in case you got lost in the woods!”

The unexpected eruption of cheers and greetings made your fight-or-flight reflexes kick in, but as you instinctively took a step back, Neil squeezed your fingers reassuringly.  

A split-second exchange of looks.

All right?

When he saw your tiny nod, he let go of your hand, focusing on the team gathered at the makeshift chillout zone. “Not everyone has your poor sense of directions, Seb,” retorted Neil, flashing his teeth in a grin.

The young man’s protests got drowned in laughter as you approached the group together.

"Luckily not the case with our rogue here,” said Ives, elbowing his way in between other people. He shot you both a disapproving look, toned down by a smile dangling in the corner of his mouth. "Really, roofs? Didn't know you had it in you, mate."

"Me neither,” admitted Neil, going in for a clasp of hands and a brief hug. “When I saw that gap, I was sure that was it. Someone convinced me otherwise."

“The secret is to avoid looking down,” you shrugged, meeting the commander's amused gaze.

"Thanks for bringing our favourite nerd back in one piece." As Ives extended his hand, there was something serious about his expression, mixed with a sense of relief, and you realised he must have been in the response team Neil had called for help.

“My pleasure.” Beaming, you shook his hand. “Thanks for providing backup.” And scraping me off the pavement.

Neil’s gasp was almost theatrical. He smirked and nudged Ives lightly. “Aw, I’m your favourite?”

“Careful, that privilege may be revoked any minute,” grunted Ives in a weak attempt at keeping up appearances, but he couldn’t fool anyone. Now that you had a chance to observe them in the after-hours situation, the bond between the two men was clear as day, and your heart warmed up at the thought.

Waving back at Mahir, you scanned the group for other familiar faces. Wheeler, a couple of people you recognized from the HQ halls, and a bit isolated from the others - the big man himself, manning the barbecue station.

Overwhelmed by the attention you got from the team, you excused yourself and walked up to The Protagonist. You couldn’t help but smile at the confident vibe he radiated with as if he spent every weekend doing nothing but this.

“So dad of you, boss.”

He flopped a sizzling piece of meat to the other side, glancing at you humorlessly.

“How are you feeling?” he asked with polite concern.

“Grand, healed up nicely, thank you.” You circled your shoulder and grinned. “Not in a marathon condition, mind you, but that’s not exactly new.”

“That’s good, Neil was worried about you.”

Not sure if it was the lack of eye contact or something else in his presence, but you decided to stop ignoring the gut feeling.

“You don’t like me,” you said, tilting your head. A mere statement of the fact; you weren’t hurt, only curious. “It’s okay, you don’t have to, just been wondering why.”

TP sighed heavily. And when he finally met your gaze, the dark eyes were sad, only deepening your confusion.

“I’m sorry.” Then something cracked and a shiver ran down your spine, because suddenly, in front of you there was a man who’d seen a lot, suffered too much, and cared even more. The weight of it all slumped his shoulders, and for a short while, he seemed almost helpless. Taking a quick look at the hollering group, he sighed again. “It’s not your fault, it’s--“ he hesitated, searching for the right words. As he found them, there was no sign of the vulnerability from a moment earlier. “It’s a stressful business.” He sent you a crooked smile. “And I’m still mad about that watch.”

The lie was obvious. But the things you saw in his eyes made your chest clench painfully, and…did you really want to know?

Besides, that might have been a truce offering, and you weren’t bent on holding a grudge. Not with him, anyway.

“Hey, wasn’t it technically your idea?” you grinned, shrugging off the weird sense of dread.

A smile finally reached the dark irises. “I guess it was,” he admitted and patted you on the arm. “There’s some beer in the mini-fridge, could you --”

“On it.”

When the clank of bottles sealed your peace treaty, you caught Neil’s happy stare. You pointed at the beer in your hand in a question and he nodded, so you grabbed one more and joined him and the others.

That unfortunate mission must have been some sort of rite of passage in these guys’ eyes because out of the blue, you were no longer an outsider. The Cavalry accepted you with open arms as one of their own, and you couldn’t wrap your head around it. It was a nice feeling, though. Like you belonged. You saw some curious glances, but they came from a good place, and even the suspicious voice in your mind gave in under the cordial, jovial energy of the group.

Soon enough, you were joking with a young medic, having a balancing stand-off with Wheeler, or listening to crazy stories from some old operations, until everyone had enough booze in their systems that allowed them to direct some of the questions to you, as well.

“So is Neil a decent locksmith now?”

You puffed out your cheeks in a musing grimace, but when you spotted Neil’s raised brow, you started laughing. “I’d say even more than decent. Honestly? I don’t think there’s much more that I can teach him, he needs to polish his skills in real life now.” Mocking a teary sniff, you added, “They grow up so fast!”

Nobody would know that you did so while actively ignoring a faint sting in your heart.

You refrained from meeting the attentive blue eyes, though. Just in case.

“Oh cool, then what about a little contest?” Seb clapped his hands cheerfully. “You versus Neil, we could time you, and to make it fairer we could put a blindfold on you --” as he stopped for a breath, he realized - with some help from Wheeler’s elbow to his side - the slight faux pas.

But you barely acknowledge a curse and a mumbled apology cutting through the awkward silence, too busy exchanging amused looks and stifled giggles with your student.

“Neil, would you like to explain?” you asked, schooling your features.

He bowed his head as if he was accepting a great honor. “Gladly.” Neil took a deep breath and his eyes lit up. “See, my dear friend, had you known anything about lockpicking, you’d learnt that sometimes it’s easier to do that with, for example, your eyes closed. You need to listen to what the lock has to say because it’s all about feedback--”

You watched as Neil gave a full lecture, citing your own words from what seemed to be a lifetime ago. He did it with passion and understanding of the craft you’d never dreamed to see in someone else, and yet was so familiar when it came to him. Absentmindedly, you placed a hand over your chest, as if it was enough to stop it from bursting.

You couldn’t be more proud.

Neil finished his rant and looked at you, only to be met with all the appreciation and validation in your gaze, and he beamed even wider.

“All right, damn, we can cover Neil’s eyes then,” sighed Seb, a total resignation in his voice sparking a roar of laughter from the group.

----

As much as you enjoyed the energy of the team, your social batteries were getting drained, and you needed a moment for yourself before you could carry on.

Walking right outside of the periphery of light from the garlands, you let your gaze slide across the training equipment, now barely visible in the moonless night. The leaves crumbled under your feet as you smiled at the memories. Maybe one day you would actually complete the full run? You pulled on the sleeves of your sweater, hiding your hands from the cold evening air.

“Mind if I join you?”

You glanced over your shoulder at Neil, keeping his distance, ready to give you space. With him, it was always in the details he’d picked along the way, effortlessly weaving them into everyday life. “Not at all.”

Neil perked up and joined you in the shadows, inhaling deeply.

“Funny how the scent of the forest changes with the seasons,” he mused and you grinned, turning his way.

“That’s what I call a pick-up line,” you snickered and drew a long breath. “But you’re right, it’s too easy to forget that once you become a permanent city creature.”

He chuckled and lightly rubbed his hands up and down your arms.

“Are you warm enough?” he asked softly, fixing your oversized scarf.

“Yeah.” You brushed your cheek against his fingers, longing for his touch, now that you were somewhat hidden from the prying gazes. “You?”

Neil moved closer and wound one arm around your waist, then cupped your face gently, pressed his forehead to yours, and murmured, “Now I am.”

You hummed happily and slid your hands under his open jacket, resting them at his chest, and closed your eyes. Only then realizing how tense you were, you relaxed in his embrace, savoring his closeness. A steady heartbeat under your palms. The warmth carrying undertones of Neil’s cologne. A featherlike graze of his thumb over your cheek. His nose nudging yours.

But soon enough, you had to break a stolen moment. Trying to stifle a yawn, you hid your face in his shoulder to muffle the sound.

“Oh, my poor baby,” he cooed, biting back a giggle. “That tired?”

“I’m fine,” you mumbled against him on the verge of another yawn.

“Sure you are.” He kissed your temple. “The party’s almost over anyway, judging by decreasing amount of idiotic ideas per hour. Gonna call us a cab soon, all right?”

As you nodded, Neil tightened a hug and reluctantly let you go.

“Be right back, I’ll check if there’s any coffee left,” you said, gesturing towards the tables with beverages.

As your luck would have it, there was just enough for one sip.

A sudden sneer was enough to wake you up, though.

“Hell froze over.”

Mahir walked up to the mini-fridge to grab a beer and you met his mocking stare with furrowed brows.

“Vincent must be chattering his teeth now,” you joked, unsure where the conversation was heading. “Why?”

Mahir scoffed at the remark about your old associate, but he was still studying you closely, confusing you further. “Congratulations, by the way.”

“Dude, you’re killing me today,” you sighed, wiping a hand through your face. “Thanks, but what for?”

“You and Neil?”

And when you shot him a puzzled look, he waved his bottle at the place where you stood together a moment before.

Breaking out in a cold sweat, you deadpanned, “Oh.”

Bloody hell.

“I thought you weren’t doing the whole love thing anymore.”

The pulse pounded in your ears, although not loud enough to tune out the sirens blazing in your head.

No.

It came out harder than you felt it. “I’m not.”

No, no, no, no, no.  

Mahir grimaced doubtfully. “Uh-huh.” He looked over your shoulder at the team gathered together in the distance and raised a brow. “Does he know that?”

You couldn’t force yourself to follow his gaze. The panic drained your face of all colour, and that was enough of an answer for your friend.

“I see.” Mahir shook his head, losing the enquiring manner. His features softened as he patted your arm. “Neil’s a good guy.”

Please, no.

“They always are,” you choked out bitterly.

Not again.

“You know what I mean,” insisted Mahir, searching for your eyes.

That the history was not gonna repeat itself?

...or that he didn’t deserve any of it?

“Yeah. Maybe.” You faked a smile. “Excuse me.”

Pushing past him, you went inside the building. You needed to be alone.

Oh, the irony.

Weeks of deliberately avoiding the topic. Tricking yourself into thinking that you can keep it casual. That it didn’t matter that much. That it was nothing but a self-indulgent fling.

You couldn’t breathe.

Lesson learnt, huh?

Barging into one of the restrooms, you got to a sink. Clenching your hands on the cold ceramic, you fought nausea tearing through your body.

Pathetic.

The gasp for air turned into a sob.

...and then everything went quiet.

You raised your eyes to the mirror.

Your reflection was staring back at you with determination.

It was time.

(next chapter ->)

[mytwistedhome]

𝓝𝓮𝓲𝓰𝓮 𝓛𝓮𝓫𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓱𝓮 ~ 𝓦𝓲𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓐𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓥𝓪𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓮'𝓼

Gender-Neutral Reader ; written in present tense & second person pov

I, personally, adore Valentine's Day no matter my relationships, but I know that this day is associated with loneliness for a lot of people, so... this particular story was written for that feeling in mind. I hope you all are able to find love and allow it into your hearts every day in any way.

You're standing at the edge of the wishing well, with beautiful clothes and your hair done well. The air is warm for the coming of March, and the sun melts away the last mounds of shimmering snow on this final February morning.

And, with snow in mind, you remember Neige, whose name and essence is that of snow. He was the one who asked you here just a week ago. It's the reason why you're dressed so nicely right now—he insisted upon a day with you soon, and of course, a day with him by your side was reason enough to look your best. This morning, however, you found it difficult to put the effort into getting ready. There was a hesitance weighing you down upon rising from your bed; an identifiable feeling that made it hard to do much of anything. But, once you started, you found yourself being lifted into a better mood, and you tried to enjoy the process of getting ready and pretty.

Indeed, you look so pretty, but you don't quite feel so as you stare at your reflection in the water of the well. Though your mood as slowly gotten better over the last couple weeks, you still feel a weight at your chest. The loneliness that Valentine's brings when you spend it void of company or gifts.

You wonder if Neige had noticed you down because of that day of love... He had, after all, asked you out after seeing you sad for several days. You appreciate his thought, but you hate to think that this was out of pity, for if it's done of pity, than it isn't sincere.

But... you trust that Neige's intention isn't as such. You know him to be genuine and honest—too sweetly simple to be anything but. You know he only would ask to be with you if he, himself, truly wanted to. He had to.

You let out a breath, a deep exhalation that clears your thoughts, and you focus your gaze back to the water of the well. Slight ripples and waves are made with every small vibration that the water seems to sense, though you don't know what it could possibly be. Something so subtle to make the water tremble?

Oh, but it doesn't matter now. You look up from the well and onto the earth around you. Much of the trees are still bare from having suffered through the winter, but in just a few more weeks, everything would bud and grow green again. Everything will be full of life. You don't quite know if you're excited for or dreading this year's spring. What is spring even like in Twisted Wonderland? You realize, now, that you do not even know.

But, before you can ponder further on the things you still have yet to learn of wonderland, you a familiar voice echoing gently through the barren woods. Soft and beautiful, but projected clearly... how pretty.

The voice grows louder as the prince approaches. It is a song of no words, just voice moving up and down to create a wonderful melody—one that could entrance you for all eternity.

Louder, still, you're able to hear exactly where the voice is coming from. Your turn your head toward a clearing between the trees, catching the shadow of a young man coming into view.

"Neige!" you call out to him and wave your hand in greeting. A wide smile unexpectedly spreads over your lips; you wouldn't have guessed that you'd be as happy as this.

Neige beams when he sees you, his expression so bright it could warm any frigid winter day. Running to you, he exclaims, "I'm so happy you came!"

The joy is shared, you say in your head as Neige gets near. He does not hesitate to hug you at once, embracing you tightly as if he'd missed you dearly.

You hug him back and inhale a sweet scent of apple and daisy. He feels so warm within your arms, and you are so grateful for even this brief affection.

But, of course, the moment cannot last forever, and Neige pulls away, still standing close. "How are you?" he asks, "I know it hasn't been long since I last saw you, but it really seemed like it. You look beautiful!"

"I've been good!" you answer him. It is a white lie, or, perhaps, the goodness you feel within this moment is enough to make all of February become a fond memory. Your heart is beating fast hearing that he missed you enough to feel a drawl in the time spent away from you, and you find yourself smiling ever wider. "How has your week been?"

"It's been really good," he answers with a smile as he leans over the well, "Though, this month has not been the most fun."

Your own smile falters upon hearing that. You had been feeling the same way, and it made you sad to think that Neige could be feeling any similarly...

"Oh, no! Please, don't get the wrong idea!" he rushes to correct his words upon seeing your face fall. "It hasn't been bad at all, just less fun compared to the month before. Winning VDC was such a wonderful moment, but the weeks that followed have felt empty in comparison. That doesn't mean I didn't enjoy them." His sweet expression returns, "What about you? I know you managed the team for Vil. You did a wonderful job! But it must have felt lonely to no longer have rehearsals."

You fluttered your eyelashes, surprised how just spot on he was... The weeks have, indeed, been extremely lonely. You no longer have so many friends at your dorm, and having that companionship you didn't even realize you loved so much stripped away made for such a lonely month, and led to sulking Valentine's. Yes, "lonely" is the perfect word.

You are honest when you answer him, though you try to phrase it in a way that isn't so distressing. "Yes, you're exactly right... I miss the rehearsals and seeing everyone so often. It is lonely without them. I miss them a lot sometimes."

Neige's expression softens into one of understanding and compassion. "I completely know how you feel," he reassures you, "There's always an emptiness when we're no longer able to see the people we've become close to, but that leaves you room to get comfortable with just yourself. You don't have to feel lonely when you're alone!"

"Yes, you're right... thank you, Neige," you say, so appreciative of his kind words. Someone like him must never feel alone... There's enough love in his heart to entertain himself forever. Perhaps there was something to learn from that.

Neige takes your arm and pulls you closer toward the well. "How about we wish to never feel lonely ever again?" he smiles brightly, "I read in a story long ago... if you sing a wish into a well, and it sings it back, than it means the well has heard it, and it's sure to come true."

Your cheeks flush slightly in embarrassment, hesitating to sing in the middle of the woods. "Oh... I'm not sure..." is all your able to muster out, but of course, Neige insists.

"There's nothing to worry! Wouldn't you like to make a wish?" he laughs a little upon saying that, "I guess it is a little silly, but there's no harm in trying. Here, I'll go first."

You watch as Neige leans further over the wall, stretching gracefully with his arms gripping the stone. "I'm wishing~" he sings, his voice a perfect melody. And then, quickly, he turns his ear to the water, eyes growing wide as the well echoes his voice. "Did you hear that?" he asks you, "The well can hear us!"

You nod your head enthusiastically, showing him a beautiful smile. Wonderland is full of wonderful things... Perhaps this well is magic, too.

Neige continues with his song. "I'm wishing~" he repeats, waiting for the well's reply, and then, "For joy when I'm alone~"

The well echoes him perfectly, and you gaze down at the rippling water with so much hope. A small part of you may still doubt the magic that Neige promises, but even just believing, just pretending, is enough for you to enjoy.

"It's your turn...!" he says to you gently, beckoning you not to be shy.

You nod your head bend over the well, pressing your lips together as your heart begins to race. You hesitate a moment, but eventually find the courage to repeat the words he sang. "I'm wishing~" your voice comes out meek and soft, but there is still a faint echo that whispers back.

"Yes!" Neige exclaims, "Keep going!"

You take a breath and, with a bit more confidence, you sing, "For joy when I'm alone~" The well repeats your words clearly, assuring you that it heard, providing you with a hope that it just might come true.

As you straighten yourself beside the well, you feel a blissful lightness at your chest, and you smile true happiness. All the weight of the month sees to slip away, tumbling and drowning into the water below, leaving you with a serenity well-deserved.

You turn to Neige and smile. "Thank you. That was wonderful."

He grins in return. "I know! It's one of my favorite things to do, and you were wonderful."

Your heart flutters, and the two of you laugh together, simply happy to be with each other's company.

Neige soon breaks the pleasant stillness as he reaches his arm out to you. "Come on; we can't stay here all day. Let's take a walk together."

You nod your head and take his arm gently, linking it with yours. You walk together side-by-side across the stony pathway that led out of the woods and into the courtyard of RSA. "It's really a beautiful day," Neige says as he glances at the mounds of melting snow. "I love when the sun shines during winter. Everything is pretty."

You giggle to yourself lightly, "Yes, I agree! It's easy to be happy on a day like this." And you walk on with him, knowing that this will be a wonderful day.

[wondernimbus]

ottery st. catchpole — cedric diggory

pairing: cedric diggory x female!reader

request #1: Hi! Do you mind writing a Cedric x reader fic where y/n loves and is the best baker? She hands him a treat and he finds himself slowly falling for for her (idk smth really cute please!) Thanks :))

request #2:  Can you write Cedric and the reader sharing their first kiss together? 🥺

a/n: decided to combine two requests since i thought they’d work well together! 

The muggle village of Ottery St. Catchpole was a fascinating place.

The first time Cedric had gone there at age eight, he'd thrown on an odd assortment of muggle clothes: a pink strawberry-patterned shirt, overly large bell-bottoms from his father's closet, and a pair of flip-flops. He learned quickly that that was not the kind of attire that would get him unnoticed by the Muggles—rather the opposite, actually, as he earned odd stares everywhere he went. But there were no "ordinary" Muggle clothes in his closet and nor did his father, so the next time he went to the village and came across a clothesline hanging unguarded outside of a Muggle house, he snatched himself two shirts and a pair of jeans and made sure to leave a thank you note under their door.

Free to wander the village without skeptical stares of Muggles following him everywhere, curious, eight-year-old Cedric made sure to explore every inch of it from the park to the chapel to the tavern.

But his most favorite, perhaps, was the bakery.

It was a quaint little place, tucked away in the corner away from the bustling main road. Its battered sign read "Old Corner Bakery", and underneath it there was a window display of the most delicious, succulent-looking pastries Cedric had ever seen in his life. It looked—though he would never let her hear him say it—even better than the ones his mother would make at home.

And so one day, Cedric, oblivious to the workings of the Muggle world and the fact that their currency was very much different from theirs, walked through the door, marched right up to the counter where his tiny head only barely peeked out from, and held up a single golden galleon. "One of those, please," he told the old lady behind the cashier, pointing at a mouth-watering custard tart on display.

The old lady reached out for the galleon, baffled. "What is this?"

"For a custard tart," replied Cedric, handing it to her.

"I've never seen anything like this," she said in wonder, holding the galleon up to the light. "Good grief, is this real gold?"

Cedric frowned, puzzled. "It''s a galleon."

The lady's face fell. Scowling, she handed it back to him. "So it's a toy," she sniffed. "I would tell you to scram, but I've seen you pass by here ogling at my pastries once or twice before. I'll give you one for free. What was it you wanted again?"

Cedric, although a little confused by how she wouldn't take his galleon, beamed in delight. If it was for free, he wasn't going to complain.

And so Cedric walked out of the bakery a few moments later with half a custard tart in his hands and the other half already snug in his stomach. He wondered to himself if all Muggles were like this; if he went to that shop near the town square, would he get more stuff for free?

He tried, and needless to say, failed.

The next day, Cedric came back to the bakery bearing two sickles. As happy as getting free food made him, something about exploiting an old woman's kindness didn't sit right with him. If she didn't want the galleon, maybe she would take a sickle instead.

But when he walked through the bakery doors, he found that the old woman was nowhere to be seen. Instead, in her place behind the cashier, there was a little girl about his age.

"Welcome to Old Corner Bakery!" she beamed, childish face shining brightly. "How may I help you?"

Cedric drew towards her, a pout on his face. "Where's the old lady?"

"The old lady?" she asked. "Oh, you mean grandma!"

He nodded.

"She's in the kitchen—baking, you know. I handle customers like you when she's too busy and I'm not doing homework," the little girl explained, grinning.

"Oh," said Cedric. "In that case, I want a cauldron cake!"

She tilted her head to the side, brows furrowed. "What's that?"

"A cauldron cake," he repeated. "Have you not got those here?"

Bottom lip jutting out in thought, the little girl scratched her head and hopped off of the stool she was apparently standing on to look over the cashier; as soon as she did, she disappeared behind the counter and into the kitchen. "Grandma!"

The familiar voice of the old lady replied, "Yes, dear?"

"Do we have cauldron cakes?"

"What?"

Cedric waited patiently by the counter, hands fiddling with the two sickles he held in his hands. "Cauldron cakes, grandma!" the little girl yelled louder.

"Never heard of 'em!" the old lady replied from the kitchen.

A moment later, the little girl was clambering back onto her stool behind the cashier. "I don't think we have those here," she told Cedric, and then, in a curious tone, "They sound delicious, though! What are they?"

A wide smile stretched across Cedric's round face—he looked as though he'd been waiting to be asked that for centuries. At a rapid pace, he began to gush, "They're chocolate cakes shaped like cauldrons and they've got melted chocolate in them and sometimes my mum uses this spell so that the chocolate doesn't run out and you can keep eating forever. She takes off the spell sometimes, though, because she says if I keep eating I'll get as fat as dad."

The little girl giggled, but then, with her eyes wide, asked, "Did you say spells? Like magic? The kind wizards and witches use?"

Cedric's eyes grew as wide as, if not even wider, than hers. He took a quick step back and cleared his throat, eyes darting around the bakery in panic. He'd forgotten, for a moment, that she was a Muggle—he'd almost revealed the secret of the wizarding world to her and defied his parents' warnings!

"Um," Cedric stammered, stuffing his two sickles back into his pocket. "Nevermind. Sorry!"

And just like that, he dashed out of the bakery, leaving the little girl staring after him, thoroughly intrigued.

—

Cedric did not go back to the village the next day under the irrational fear of accidentally revealing the wizarding world's biggest secret; that magic existed. Obviously, an eight-year-old wizard letting such a thing slip to yet another eight-year-old Muggle would little affect the wizarding world, but Cedric, childish and oblivious as he was, did not want to take any risks.

And so it took him a week before he mustered up the courage to go back into the village. He hadn't been planning to go into the bakery—he only hoped to catch a glimpse of the pastries by the window—but he found that the little girl was sitting outside on the front steps, munching on a piece of bread.

Mere seconds from legging it, the girl looked up and their eyes met. "Hey!" she called out, perking up. "I know you!"

Cedric froze from where he stood several feet away. He thought it'd be rude to bolt when she'd already noticed him, and so he walked forward tentatively, half-expecting her to start badgering him with questions about wizards and witches and magic. But she only patted the empty space next to her and beckoned him to sit down, that same cheery smile on her face that Cedric had seen a week ago.

He sat next to her on the stone steps, crossed arms propped on his knees as he turned his head to look at her. She was tearing the bread she held in her hands into two halves, the other half of which she handed to him.

"Thank you," said Cedric, taking it.

"You're welcome!" the little girl replied, face positively glowing with the warmth of a thousand suns. Taking a bite out of her now considerably smaller chunk of bread, she tilted her head and said, "I don't think I've ever seen you at school before."

He took a bite out of his own, eyes skittering away to look at the pavement. "My parents teach me school stuff at home," he told her. It wasn't a complete lie, although he guessed that the things that she learned in her Muggle school were a stark contrast to the magic he learned from his mum and dad.

"Oh, that sounds fun!" the little girl said, beaming. "Don't you get sad, though? Not having any kids your age to play with? Assuming you don't have siblings."

"I don't," replied Cedric through a mouthful of bread. It was some sort of strawberry crumpet. "I'm an only child. I suppose it does get lonely, sometimes, but that's why I go out here—to the Mugg—I mean, the village."

She nodded, mouth moving to form an o shape. "Neat. So you don't have homework?"

He shook his head. The girl's shoulders slumped and a frown quickly found its way onto her face. "I wish I didn't get homework," she said sullenly. "They give us a whole stack of it over the summer. I hate it."

Cedric bit the inside of his cheek. He didn't quite like the frown on her face; something about it made him feel unsettled, like something had gone wrong in the world. He nudged her shoulder with his. "It can't be that bad," he said, offering her a tiny smile. "There's.. there's worse things than homework. Like—I don't know—losing ekleksiti or whatever you call it.. or unintentionally fumbling with the Quaffle and messing up your team's goal.."

"You mean the football?"

"Yeah.." Whatever that was.

She giggled, turning to smile at him. "You're funny."

There was something about her tone of voice—along with the overall aura that she carried—that awfully reminded Cedric of summer days playing Quidditch outside with his family and warm wind in his face and lying in the grass seeing the clouds drifting above him.

It was that feeling that made it easy for Cedric to forget almost immediately about his illogical fear of exposing the magical world. It was what had him smiling back at her, round face just as bright and filled with the kind of mirthful innocence only children would have.

—

Cedric came back to the bakery the next day. And the day after that. And the day after that. Both the little girl—who he learned was named [Y/N]—and her kind, albeit slightly cranky old grandmother, grew fond of him. The latter would make sure to bake him his favorite custard tarts, and [Y/N] would sit with him by the front steps of the bakery, talking about every tiny thing their brains came up with.

"Have you got a favorite movie?" [Y/N] asked him one day.

"A favorite what?"

"A movie. Don't tell me you've never seen one!"

Cedric scratched the back of his neck, abashed. "I don't think so. Is that a Mu—I mean, what is it?"

Looking utterly astounded, [Y/N] began to ramble on about moving pictures and fairytales and stories.

"I've seen moving pictures—but you're telling me they don't talk to you?" quizzed Cedric dubiously.

Frowning, she nodded. "The pictures talk to each other. Sort of. Although it would be cool if they talked to us, don't you think?"

Still trying to wrap his head around the concept of images that don't talk to you but talk to other images whilst following a story of sorts, Cedric rubbed his forehead. "This is giving me a headache."

[Y/N] giggled, shoving the last of her custard tart into her mouth. "Let's go see one one day! A movie, I mean. It'll be fun!"

Prying his palm away from his face, Cedric nodded and couldn't help but grin right back at her. The excited gleam in her eyes shone with the promise of more than just one day seeing a movie; it glowed with the promise of a friendship that would last for a long, long time. That gleam of promise was reflected in Cedric's own gaze, and rest assured it would stay there in the rest of the years to come.

—

Three years seemed to pass by in a blur of endless chatter, ridiculous inside-jokes, and shared pastries out by the bakery's front steps. The pair grew and their friendship did so along with them. Cedric learned to grow cautious about what he had come to call his "magical secret", although he suspected that [Y/N] had started to grow skeptical along the way despite her never bringing it up.

When his letter from Hogwarts arrived, Cedric knew that he had to tell [Y/N]—that, or make up some excuse. Or perhaps invent something akin to the truth, but not quite.

And so it went like this: "My parents are sending me to school."

[Y/N]'s eyes widened. They were sitting in their usual spot out by the bakery's stone steps, identical biscuits in their hands. Out of nowhere, she smacked Cedric's shoulder; he turned to face her, clutching the spot where she'd hit him. "What was that for?" asked Cedric, eyes as wide as hers.

She smacked him again, bouncing with the excitement of a five-year-old child waking up on Christmas day. "That's great!" she squealed, stuffing her biscuit in her mouth and chewing frantically. "I can introduce you to all my friends and we'll get to see each other everyday and not just on the weekends!"

Cedric's heart sank. "Um.."

"And we can do homework together and I won't have to walk back home alone and—"

"[Y/N], I'm not going to your school."

She paused. Her face fell and drooped into a frown so disappointed that Cedric had to tear his gaze away. "What—where are you going, then?"

He scratched the back of his neck, lips pressed together in a weak grimace. "Somewhere far."

[Y/N]'s brows were furrowed. "Where?"

"I don't know. Somewhere in Scotland, I think. I'll be back home for the summer, though."

Her shoulders had slumped, and so had Cedric's. The disappointment was evident in the sulky lines of her face and it was making Cedric feel all sorts of things he normally wouldn't feel around her; incredibly downcast being one of them. He'd known this day was coming one day or another, and so would the day he'd have to leave and not see her for several months—the day that loomed only a week from then.

"When are you leaving?" asked [Y/N], gaze fixed on the pavement, a pout on her tiny face.

"Next week," replied Cedric.

He couldn't bear it. He poked her side, which immediately led to her jumping up and frowning at him. (He'd discovered over time that it was a big tickle spot of hers.) Once he'd gathered her attention, he said in a quiet voice, "I've got a secret. Do you want to hear it?"

Still looking somewhat sullen, she nodded. [Y/N] would never pass up a chance to discover some big, mysterious secret, no matter her mood.

And just because he wanted to cheer her up, along with the fact that he knew he couldn't keep this from her—his best friend of three years who knew everything about him from his favorite pair of socks to his biggest fears—he leaned in, eyes wide, and whispered in a hushed tone, "I'm going to a school for wizards."

She drew back, brows pulled in together in the middle in pure incredulity as said, "You're joking."

"No," said Cedric, grinning. And then, in that same hushed voice, "You have to promise me you won't tell anyone, okay?"

Still looking utterly bewildered, [Y/N] nodded slowly, gaze locked with his.

"I can show you magic, if you like."

At this, her eyes grew wide and a moment later she was nodding excitedly. "Where? When? How?"

"Right now!" replied Cedric, relieved at the smile that split her face and replaced the disappointed frown from before. "Wait here, okay? I'll be back!" And then he sprang to his feet and dashed off.

Cedric was true to his word; he came back half an hour later bearing a mysterious purple package in his hands. [Y/N] was still sitting patiently where he'd left, and she looked up at him calling her name.

"What is that?" she asked, hands reaching out for the box, which Cedric handed to her. Turning it over in her hands, she saw the words "Chocolate Frog" written across the paper lid in shiny golden letters.

"Open it!" Cedric urged, sitting down next to her.

And so she did. Carefully opening the lid of the octagon-shaped box, she let out a loud shriek as a chocolate-colored pair of squirming frog legs poked out from behind it. Out of surprise, the package fell from her hands and onto the pavement, but Cedric's instincts were quick; he hurriedly hopped off the steps to grab the package, hands firmly clamped around it as he brought it back to her with a wide smile on his snickering face.

"Guess you don't scare easy, huh?" he grinned, teasing. "It can get away if you don't hold onto it as soon as you open the package. See, watch."

Heart still beating rapidly, she leaned over with wide eyes and a curious gaze, watching as Cedric carefully opened the lid. He caught something that, sure enough, looked like chocolate—but it was moving in his clasped fist.

"A chocolate frog," said [Y/N], eyes the size of golf-balls.

"Yep," said Cedric, bringing the still struggling treat to his lips and taking a huge chunk out of it. "Don't worry—it's not an actual frog. Just shaped to look like it."

Gobsmacked, [Y/N] stared as he handed her the bottom half of the chocolate frog, the legs of which was still squirming. "That's—woah," excitement bubbling in the pit of her stomach at having witnessed actual magic (albeit in the form of the so-called chocolate frog), she brought it to her mouth, where it instantly stopped moving and dissolved into a creamy mess of delicious chocolate.

Eyes glinting with the same elation that was in hers, Cedric sat down next to her and pulled a card out of the box. He handed it to her.

[Y/N] stared down at the small card in the palm of her hands. "Woah," she said again, voice a stunned whisper. Imprinted on the card was a photo of an old man whose beard stretched all the way down to his waist. He was wearing sparkling magenta robes and looking straight at her, a gentle twinkle in his wizened, old eyes. An odd name was emblazoned under his picture—"Albus Dumbledore"—but then he reached up to adjust the spectacles on the bridge of his nose, and [Y/N] let out another surprised gasp. "He moved!"

Cedric was grinning. "Magic, I told you!"

Exhilarated, [Y/N] looked back down at the card in her hands. The old man—Dumbledore—winked at her through his half-moon spectacles. "Is he—" she swallowed, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart, "Is he a wizard?"

Cedric nodded, beaming. "And so am I."

For a few seconds, [Y/N] could do no more than open and close her mouth in pure shock. All of this was a lot to take in—but perhaps her being of the mere age eleven helped, because while the ordinary Muggle adult would have downright refused to believe it, an imaginative young girl like her who had yet to discover the world took the news kindly.

"I'd show you more magic," Cedric said bashfully, "But I don't really know how to yet. That's why I'm going to Hogwarts—the school I was talking about, you know—so I can learn how to use magic. Spells and potions and all of that stuff."

At this, [Y/N]'s lips once more drooped with the threat of yet another painful frown, but she picked it back up with a small smile. "Here," she swiveled around to face him on the steps, knees knocking with his. Holding her pinky finger up between them, she said, "You promise me you'll write, okay? And you have to tell me about all the stuff that you learn there and all the other wizards and witches you meet—there are witches, right?"

Cedric nodded, lips pressed together in a tiny smile as he laced his pinky finger through hers. "I promise. Expect there'll be owls knocking on your window every week or so."

Her eyes widened once more. "Owls?"

He grinned. "We use owls to send letters and stuff around."

"Oh. Neat."

They broke out into a fit of giggles. "Okay," said Cedric, pulling his pinky finger away. "But you have to promise me you'll keep it a secret."

[Y/N] nodded earnestly, a look of the utmost seriousness crossing over his face as she pressed her palm to her chest like she was swearing an oath. "I'll take it to the grave with me, Ced," she said, eyes sparkling. "Trust me."

—

And trust her he has done, for the past few years of his life. Cedric would leave on the first of September every year, but not before bidding her farewell and promising to write at least once a week. To make up for the time they've lost, he would spend almost every day of the summer and winter break with her. His parents understand; he has long since told them about the Muggle girl at the bakery who his heart has grown close to. And perhaps it is his parents who first notice when the friendship that he has with her begins to blossom into something else. Something more.

"Out to meet with your friend already?" asks his father upon catching Cedric already on his way out of the front door. It's his first day back home from his fifth year at Hogwarts, and he has barely even finished unpacking his bags.

Cedric grins. He is a young man of age sixteen now, no longer the tiny eight-year-old boy he once was when he first met [Y/N] all those years ago. And yet despite all that has changed—despite his broader stature and the fact that he now towers over his father—he is still the same compassionate boy he has always been; the one who has always had a love for pastries and a certain girl at the bakery, although he doesn't quite know it yet.

"She's waiting for me," says Cedric, oddly exhilarated. His heart beating with the anticipation of seeing her for the first time in several months, he waves a brief goodbye to his father and dashes down the hill leading to the Muggle village of Ottery St. Catchpole.

He goes down the same path he always has; past the small patch of trees at the foot of the hill, through the town square, and finally, in front of the bakery. The door is propped open as though it has been waiting for him to enter, and voices waft out onto the street from the inside.

A smile already having found its way onto his face, Cedric takes the front stone steps two at a time before stepping inside.

"Be careful, grandma—oh, no—no, let me do it."

"It's fine, I can—Cedric, dear boy, you're back!"

A tray of freshly-baked cookies are set aside on the counter before a familiar elderly Muggle woman rushes at him and envelops him in a hug, mitten-covered hands wrapping themselves around his middle—the farthest she can reach him at his tall height and her own short legs. Cedric meets [Y/N]'s gaze over her grandmother's shoulder; she is leaning on the counter, lips pressed together in a barely-suppressed smile as her eyes shine with the kind of light that reminds Cedric of everything good in the world.

It takes a while for [Y/N]'s grandmother to stop fussing over him. When she does, she disappears behind the kitchen with the promise of coming out with a fresh batch of his favorite custard tarts.

And then he and [Y/N] are left alone in the bakery, where Cedric wastes no time and hugs her as close to him as he can. He wants to tell her that he'd missed her—terribly so—but he knows that she knows, and so he just holds her to him and hopes that the words come across alright.

A moment later the two of them are outside of the bakery, sitting on the same stone steps they've perched themselves on so many times before.

"So let me get this straight: you intentionally didn't write about the fact that there was a mass murderer inside your school because you didn't want me to worry?"

"Well, the matter was taken care of—"

"And there were soul-sucking demendoids or whatever you call them roaming the castle and you didn't mention it to me in your letters because you—"

"I didn't want you to worry, yes."

[Y/N] stares at him, deadpan. "And I suppose if you suffer a horrible death you won't care to write to me either because you don't want me worrying."

"Well, if I were dead, I'd hardly be able to write to y—"

"Oh, you get my point!" says [Y/N], rolling her eyes, but she's laughing as she shoves him lightly on the shoulder. Sighing dramatically, she shakes her head. "You learn a few magic tricks and suddenly you cut me out of your life."

Cedric scoffs, but his annoyance is only about as convincing as [Y/N]'s, as he has a smile of his own on his face. "I leave a few details out of my letter and suddenly you want to end our friendship."

"I don't want to end it," protests [Y/N]. "I just don't want you keeping out the bad stuff from your letters just because you don't want me to worry. If anything, I want to hear more about the negatives than the positives so I'll know that I'm not the only one having a hard time."

Cedric raises his brows, the smile on his face drooping as he angles his head to look at her face from where she's leaning on his shoulder. "Why? Tough time at school?"

She shrugs, shifting a little. "Kind of. It's ridiculous, actually. My best friend—well, second-best, since you're first—thinks that her boyfriend," she makes a face, "likes me. She didn't talk to me at all during the last few months of school and I highly expect she'll still be an arse about it when we come back after summer. Rubbish, really." Cedric has fallen silent. When she looks up at him, she finds that there is a frown on his face, so immediately she reassures him by saying, "You don't have to worry, Ced. I've got other friends. Better friends—wizard friends. Or friend. Just the one."

Cedric raises his eyebrows at her. His mood has dampened a little; it shows in the disappearance of the crinkled smile lines around his eyes and the way his lips have tugged down.

"Oh, come on," says [Y/N], sitting up straight. "Don't look so bummed. I've told you it's not a big deal."

He looks away, and then, quietly, "I just don't like the idea of you having a hard time."

A grin slowly stretches across her face. A moment later, she starts laughing. "Always so caring, aren't you?" she teases, reaching out to poke his cheek.

Cedric rolls his eyes, clutching her hand and prying it away from his face. "Whatever," he mutters, making a face at her. She giggles and does one right back, and just like that, they're laughing again.

It's incredibly easy for the innocent, youthful part of Cedric to come to the surface during times like these, when he sits down in front of the bakery with his best friend at his side as they return to their naive, childish shelves and bond over everything and nothing with all sorts of pastries clutched in their chubby hands. Cedric finds that, no matter how much time has passed, [Y/N] still feels the same: warm and comforting and reminiscent of home.

—

Time passes as it has always done, and sooner than both Cedric and [Y/N] would have liked, the day of September comes looming above them a mere week away.

They are on one of the many hills surrounding the village of Ottery St. Catchpole—their favorite one, actually; the one that has a perfect view of the village if they sit at the very top, which is what they are doing. The night sky looms above them as they do as they have always done: talk. And whenever they lapse into silence, they bask in the comfort they have always found in one another.

At present, they are laying on their backs on the grass. Usually, they'd be pointing out random shapes they each notice in the clouds, but it is nighttime and only wisps of smoke from the village chimneys drift across the dark blue canvas. There are only a few stars visible through the pollution hanging in the air; "I could count them all on one hand," says [Y/N], arm stretched upwards as though reaching for the sky. "Bit sad, really. I remember when we were kids there were still a lot of them. Sort of."

Cedric, with his gaze similarly glued to the stretch of sky above them, lets out an exhale. "We can see the stars at Hogwarts," he tells her quietly like they're sharing a secret, which, in a way, they are. "We don't even have to go to the Astronomy Tower to see them—when we look up, they're right there. Right above us. It's.."

He trails off.

"Ethereal?" [Y/N] suggests, tone hushed.

Cedric nods. "I wish I could take you to see them, but. You know."

"I'm a—what was it you guys called us lame, non-magical folks again?" she rolls onto her side to face him, arm tucked underneath her head as her eyes narrowed playfully.

"A Muggle," Cedric says, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. "And that doesn't make you lame. It just makes you.."

"Non-magical," she snorts.

"Doesn't matter," mumbles Cedric, shifting to turn on his side as well. "You've got a different kind of magic." And his tone is teasing, but there's a hint of underlying emotion hidden beneath that he wonders if [Y/N] picks up on.

"And what's that?" [Y/N] asks, feigning a haughty look. "Is it my—let's see—supernatural charms? Or my mystical beauty?"

Cedric laughs. "Something like that."

Facing her, mere centimeters away, Cedric sees that moonshine is dancing across the skin of her face; he sees the very stars they were speaking of gleaming in her eyes, and all of a sudden the atmosphere changes and he can't quite breathe properly.

The look on his face doesn't go amiss. The playful smile on [Y/N]'s face falls and reveals underneath it something more—something that has Cedric's heart beating wildly in his throat and his lungs seizing up in his chest.

Ethereal, Cedric thinks to himself as his gaze locks with hers and he finds himself drowning in the sea of constellations inside her irises. The stars at Hogwarts hold no competition to those which he sees in that moment in [Y/N]'s eyes. He wonders if they have always been there, waiting to be noticed, or if they have only just surfaced now.

And then Cedric finds himself leaning in and somewhere in the middle, she meets his lips with her own.

They pause for a moment, as though giving each other time to pull away if they want to, but neither of them do. And he really can't quite tell who moves first—him or [Y/N]—but they let each other's lips begin to whisper over one another's in gentle, slow carresses. They string up, unhurried and soft, one kiss flowing into the next with endless patience and want, and [Y/N]'s lips are inviting and alive and Cedric almost doesn't want to pull away, but he has to, eventually, and so he draws back, eyes blinking open.

He wonders, for a moment, despite the fact that she'd kissed back, if he had gone too far. If he had crossed the line that had always rested between them that made the difference between friendship and.. whatever this was.

But then familiar crinkles appear around [Y/N]'s eyes as she smiles at him. "I believe I've discovered my magic."

Cedric takes a brief moment to respond. Letting out a quiet exhale, he keeps his gaze fixed on hers as he furrows his eyebrows a little and asks with a tiny smile of his own, "What's that?"

She grins and jokes in a hushed, almost theatrical tone, "Seduction."

Cedric's face relaxes into a proper smile and he leans forward, pressing his mouth against [Y/N]'s for the second time. He feels the happy curve of her lips and feels his own curving up in response until they aren't really kissing anymore; just smiling against each other's mouths.

Ethereal, Cedric thinks to himself again, not for the first time that day. Absolutely bloody magical.

—

The muggle village of Ottery St. Catchpole was a fascinating place, but perhaps the reason why Cedric thought so was not because of the buildings and the bustling streets themselves, but because of the little bakery owned by a Muggle grandma and a girl whose heart Cedric knew even better than his own.

When the first of September comes around and brings with it the inevitable need to say goodbye, a pair of friends bound together by the passing of time sit on the front steps of the Old Corner Bakery, joking and talking and making promises to write. [Y/N]'s grandmother has insisted on Cedric bringing along snacks in case he gets hungry during the train ride, hence the paper bag full of custard tarts he clutches in his hands.

"I think she loves you more than I do," says [Y/N], watching her grandmother disappear back into the bakery, weeping.

Cedric laughs. "Tell me something I don't know."

And then suddenly it is time to say their farewells, and Cedric is hugging her goodbye but it doesn't feel like enough, so he pulls away, places his hand on the back of her head, and presses a kiss to her forehead. He would press their lips together but he knows that will make it harder to say goodbye, so for now, he settles for this.

"You promise me you won't leave the bad stuff out of your letters, okay?"

"You can count on me."

So Cedric waves goodbye to her with the same gleam of promise from all those years ago sparkling in his eyes like stars that have yet to die out. He can't promise to stay, but he can promise that he will come back—and he will. He always will.

a/n: whether or not cedric comes back to ottery st. catchpole next year is entirely up to you (cough triwizard tournament cough)