asphaltsugar

[asphaltsugar]

loved your tommy fic !!! 💗

i’m glad :)

[asphaltsugar]

a lover’s ruse — c.d. [1]

Summary: Your agonizing courtship and Cedric’s need to spite his ex are both ailments that have a very simple cure: a fake relationship, obviously.

⤷ [1] - in which prefect patrols end with a haphazard agreement being reached.

Requested: read the request here

Pairing: Cedric Diggory x fem!gryffindor!reader

Word Count: 3.9K

A/N: I'm so sorry guys. This has been such a long time coming, I'm not sure people are even waiting for this anymore. But this is the first part and I'm thinking of turning it into a full-fledged series. Second part of the fic WILL be out as soon as I'm done exams.

—

The first few dates were bearable enough  — if you squinted hard and counted the silence as a virtue. 

The next few were nothing short of painstakingly harrowing. And that’s being kind.

This one, however? It made you seriously contemplate lunging over the walls of the Astronomy Tower and meeting Death, himself, halfway. Little else could offer greater reprieve, in your mind, from this. 

The setting should’ve been romantic, in theory. The night was still, but not stiflingly so, and the moonlight danced around the top of the Tower teasingly, doing little to illuminate the dark. If he stepped into a crevice where the light didn’t reach his face and you tuned him out just enough, you might even call the view beautiful. But, you soon found out – only a few dates in – no view could be described as such when you have Trevor Selwyn standing next to you.

Trevor Selwyn should’ve been a perfect match, in theory. An avid member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight –  there was little else that could prove more pertinent to families, like yours, with snobby ideals of purity and the measures necessary to maintain it, generation after generation – a Slytherin, an athlete (he doesn’t like mentioning that he’s a substitute player, on his best days), and a prefect. And, as you soon found out – only one date in – he’s also an utter and complete idiot.

So, you should’ve said no, in theory. Kicked and flailed your arms like a petulant child, screamed and wailed and protested when your parents proposed a courtship between the two of you. You should’ve told Trevor himself that he possessed the tact of a Cornish Pixie and the wit of the dimmest of trolls. But, as you soon found out (after the wailing episode) – absolutely zero dates in – Trevor is nothing but persistent and your parents anything but unwavering in their resolve. 

“I’ve met the Minister once,” he remarks out of nowhere as he looks off, off of the edge of the tower with all the regality of an acclaimed emperor. 

You hum in response. You haven’t said a word all night and he hasn’t noticed a thing.

“Granted, I was only two but I recall the Minister telling my father –”

“I think I should head back, actually,” you interrupt before the anecdote can truly begin. There are a few things you’ve learned about Trevor so far but none of them are as glaringly consequential as this: if he starts talking about his father, he won’t be able to stop. Escapades from Uagadou, his adventures in Egypt warding off curses and serpents and the magical scrolls of Machu Picchu –

“Oh,” he furrows his brow as if deep in thought and you almost laugh. That boy has never had a thought in his life. 

“I don’t want to be late for prefect patrols is all,” a faux sweet lilt to your voice doesn’t do much to subdue the frown on his face. 

He nods curtly. “I’ll walk you back.”

Your refusal is automatic. “I think I’ll mana–”

“It’s no problem,” he starts walking towards the stairs and you’re left with no choice but to follow.

On any other occasion, the walk would’ve taken mere minutes. The hallways would’ve been something theatrical, a soft fusion of candlelight and the streaming moonlight at this time of night. With Selwyn by your side, however, the minutes seemed like hours, and the candlelit corridors, usually golden and warm, felt like the dull glow of a waiting room. Your shoulders ached from how stiffly you held herself as each step echoed louder than the last, as if the castle itself was sighing in disappointment and disdain.

“I had an enjoyable time tonight,” Trevor started when you finally reached and you tried your utter best to hide the discomfort when his clammy hand reached for yours. He brought it to his lips and pressed a single kiss on it before you gave him a tight-lipped smile. You expect him to then turn and go, to walk back down to his own common room but he stays standing there, his face blank. 

“Me too,” you smile, in hopes that this was the confirmation he was after. Another lesson you’ve learned about the boy has been this: nothing else pleases him as much as validation does. 

He gives some semblance of a smile back. You blink. The next thing you know he has started to lean in and his eyes are fluttering shut and his slightly puckered lips are mere inches from yours now and the ridiculousness of it all proves too much to bear – you guffaw in the most obnoxious way possible. A mixture of anger and hurt crosses his face before he retreats and you’re unsure of how to recover.

“I’m so sorry,” you cover your mouth and try to stop the laughter. “I– I just thought of a funny joke. I’m so–”

“Fix your hair, would you? It looked atrocious today,” he quips quickly to gain control of the situation back. The last thing you’ve learned about the enigma that Selwyn is is this: his superiority cannot be challenged. If it is, he will try to establish it again – by insulting you in the most seemingly hurtful manner. 

It doesn’t quite have the desired effect. You snort at his attempt and suddenly the laughter has returned. He exhales once out of his nose as he turns to go but not before calling out, “I will pick you up at the same time tomorrow night. Don’t be late.” 

The laughter dwindles at the thought of enduring this again. “I’m busy tomorrow!” 

“Don’t be late,” he calls again. 

“Charming,” you hear someone call from behind you and you can tell who it is without having to turn and look at his annoyingly perfect face. His clever quips usually carry the extraordinary ability to irk you to no end but after the night you’ve had, they seem especially akin to knives on a chalkboard. 

You can picture Cedric Diggory’s earnest yet irritating smile he seems to wear at all times, the kind that makes his honey-coloured eyes crinkle in the slightest way at the edges with no difficulty. You can picture his perfectly ironed robes, clad with pins and awards he has won over the years and his hair that falls in place like dominoes. There’s only ever one way to describe him: pristine. Always. 

Though you’d never cared much to exalt him to the status of an academic rival, it’d be foolish to call him anything else. He had a way about him that reeked of complete and utter competence at everything, which indubitably invited a certain degree of resentment from everyone. You were no exception.

And not only did the universe seem keen on making an already-horrible night worse by scheduling him as your prefect patrols partner tonight, it also seemed quite keen on wanting to humiliate you in front of him. 

“The gossip that you are, Diggory,” you huff with biting sarcasm as you finally turn to face him. “Using your patrols as a way to spy on unsuspecting young lovers. Classy.” The break of his grin is almost blinding and you have to avert your gaze to avoid damage to your visual field.

“Nothing else entertains me these days as much as your courtship, I’m afraid,” he jests, slipping an easy hand into his pocket. “If you need more time together, I understand. I’m perfectly capable of completing the patrols on my own tonight.”

With your face aflame, you shoot him a look and begrudgingly start walking beside him, arms crossed tightly over your chest like a shield and footsteps hitting stone a bit too sharply. 

“How kind of you.” You say curtly and make it a point to walk a few steps ahead of him. He doesn’t seem particularly perturbed by it: he follows a few steps behind you, but the smugness radiating off of him envelops you nonetheless. 

“You can laugh, you know,” you say again after a moment of silence. You have long-since learned that the best way to avoid embarrassment is to submit to it. You’ve been courting Selwyn long enough to know it – sheepish smiles exchanged with classmates when he pecks you on the cheek in the hallways, mortified but apologetic grimaces whenever he tries to clasp your hand in his as he walks you to your common room after supper. Judgment – if it must be served – is best served plainly. Overtly. 

He shakes his head in amusement as he finally catches up and walks in step with you. “Now, why would I laugh? That was the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen.” 

“That was humiliating,” you mutter under your breath before you can stop yourself. 

Cedric’s amused smile wavers as he glances at you with something you hope isn’t sympathy. And as much as you hate to say it, it wouldn’t be something you would put above him – for all the determined rebuttals and rivalries in class, Cedric has only ever been infuriatingly kind. “I think Selwyn might be a tad bit more humiliated than you, [Y/L/N].”

“Good. If he ever tries to kiss me again, I might hex him into oblivion and end up as a headline in the Daily Prophet.” 

His amusement returns and you’re glad. You’re not sure how to interact with him beyond the usual teasing remarks. “Would it be in bad taste to say that I'd quite want to see that?” His smile only grows when you roll your eyes. “Will you be doing that tomorrow night then? Shall I call the reporters?” 

You make a face. “You won’t be grinning that wide when I send a dementor after you from Azkaban, Diggory.”

“Send one after Selwyn. He’s in need of a good kiss.”

Your lips twitch at the joke and Cedric notices the slight movement. You press them together before a full-fledged smile can appear on your face and Cedric revels in it. “You’re not funny.”

“Yes, I’m sure Selwyn’s funnier,” Cedric teases. 

“Still not funny.” You take a few quicker steps to walk in front of him again, having had enough of his teasing for the night. 

He catches up again and has no particular difficulties keeping up, no matter how much you try to hasten your steps. “Forgive me for prying –”

“I won’t.”

“But, why Selwyn?” The question’s sincerity catches you off-guard.

“What?”

“I just mean – I find it hard to believe that you’re… devoid of options. So…why him?” He picks his words carefully, as if he’s weighing them in his mouth before letting them fall out. And perhaps it was due to the late hour or the undeniable warmth that Cedric’s eyes perpetually hold, but you actually considered giving him a sincere answer. 

“He’s–” you pause as you vow to yourself this would be the last display of vulnerability Cedric would be getting from you tonight. Your voice drops despite yourself, and you find your fingers fiddling with the edge of your sleeve. Something about Cedric’s quiet attention makes the truth feel heavier than usual. “He’s my parents’ choice. They want me to graduate with a prospect secured.”

His eyebrows wrinkle in confusion. “If a courtship is what you’re after, I’m sure you’d find better prospects in – pardon my bluntness – anyone else.” His teasing cadence has dropped altogether now and you wrinkle your own eyebrows in confusion as you consider the notion that Cedric might actually be trying to help you. 

“It doesn’t matter who–” you pause again. “I don’t plan on marrying him, Cedric.”

Cedric frowns. 

You go on, “I’m only ‘courting’ him until graduation to subdue my parents. I won’t marry him so it doesn’t matter who it is.” You squirm in guilt as Cedric stays frowning. “And I realize it’s cruel to string him along – I do – I just – I don’t know what else to do.” 

Cedric nods after a while – a slow, courteous nod that indicates he understands but wholly disagrees with whatever you’re saying. It’s a nod you’ve seen from him when he proposes a rebuttal to whatever alternate answer you’ve proposed in class, an alternate solution to a problem and admittedly, a much more pragmatic one.  He opens his mouth to voice it before the sound of giggles fill the empty hallways from around the corner.

You both exchange a prefectly look with each other, acknowledging the obvious student out of bed, awaiting a scolding for being out past curfew. Before you two can approach to see who it is, they turn the corner themselves.

“Evelyn,” Cedric breathes out in surprise as your gaze lands on the familiar brunette-haired girl in your year, her hands firmly clasped in Damien Avery’s, matching love-sick grins plastered on both faces and lipstick stains on the latter’s neck. With their hair dishevelled and robes askew, they blink in stunned silence.

You purse your lips as you look between the two, realization cresting at once. Though Cedric’s dating life was never a particular topic of interest, you immediately recognized the girl as his girlfriend, Evelyn Waters. 

Well, ex-girlfriend as of two weeks ago. 

“Ced,” his name falls from her smudged, lipstick-stained mouth softly, her eyes widening slightly. She hastily straightens out her robe and runs a hand through her hair. “I–”

Cedric clears his throat awkwardly as he shoots Avery a lingering glare. “It’s an hour past curfew–” He manages to get out, his voice unbelievably even. He keeps his eyes on Avery, not sparing Evelyn another glance. 

“I’m a prefect, Diggory. I think we’re fine,” Avery dismisses, stepping around him. He tugs at Evelyn’s hand.

Cedric steps in front of him again, towering over the shorter boy with ease. “Forty points from Slytherin,” he says simply, his eyes uncharacteristically stoic.

Avery scoffs and looks at Cedric in disbelief. “Yeah?” He sneers. “Are you going to take another forty for theft?” 

Cedric exhales heavily through his nose at the implication. The night air has suddenly chilled and the tension is so thick, it makes it hard to breathe.

“You know… considering…everything.” Avery smirks, gesturing subtly to Evelyn’s hand he still has clasped within his own. Evelyn watches the exchange silently.

“Considering everything, Avery,” you finally find your voice in the uncomfortable silence and step forward. “I’ll be taking another hundred points away from Slytherin for your misuse of prefect privileges. Expect to hear from Professor Snape tomorrow when I formally file a complaint.”

Avery turns to you, his goblin-green eyes staring into yours for a minute before he narrows them. “This isn’t your fight, [Y/L/N]. Stay out of it.”

“I think you,” you jab a hard finger at his chest, pushing him away slightly, “should stay out of the hallways after curfew. Now, if you’ll excuse us.” You grab Cedric’s arm and tear him away from the pair. 

He doesn’t protest when you begin to lead him down a random set of stairs to get away from the scene of the stiff confrontation. Cedric walks a few steps behind you wordlessly as you chance periodic glances to make sure he’s still following. After a few moments, you slow your gait so he can catch up with you.

“Hey,” you jostle him out of his thoughts which seemed to have permanently etched a furrow in his brows as he shuffled his feet across the stone floor.

He sighs, running a quick hand over his face and then stuffing it back into his pocket. “You didn’t have to enjoy that quite so much.”

You frown. “Enjoy what?”

“Do you not normally enjoy my humiliation?” He asks with a teasing lilt in his voice, but the humour stops short of his eyes. You can tell his mind is still stuck elsewhere, replaying that scene over and over. 

“I’m not a sadist like you,” you quip. 

He offers you a quick smile as if to confirm receipt of your well-intentioned humour, but doesn’t say much else. You walk in uneasy silence once again. 

“She’s an idiot,” you say finally. “Just– for the record.”

“Hm.” He smiles wryly again but his eyes hold a heaviness that you don’t like. You can tell the breakup took a greater toll on him than he has let on the past few weeks. And you’re not exactly sure why that weighs down on your heart.

“Seriously, Diggory,” you sigh. “She’s an idiot for breaking up with you and she’s an idiot for getting with Avery.”

He exhales a quiet laugh. “Yeah.” 

The heaviness still hung in the air despite your attempts at trying to provide Cedric an outlet to let out his frustration. You scoff internally at his staunch unwillingness to talk ill of anyone – not even his ex-girlfriend who moved on from him in a blink of an eye. You think again of Cedric’s genuine interest in your ‘Selwynian’ plight. You sigh once before shaking your head. Were you really about to help Cedric Diggory?

“You know what? You need to stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Acting like it doesn’t bother you,” you hit him lightly on the arm. “It bothers you, right?”

He holds your gaze for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. Suppose it does.” He admits quietly.

“Do you want her back?” 

He frowns at the question. “What–”

“Do you?”

“Yes,” he breathes out after a while and looks away, as if embarrassed at the confession. You can tell he’s fidgeting with his pockets nervously. 

“Then, make her jealous,” you say. “I saw how she was looking at you. She knows she made a mistake. But she won’t admit it because that’s not how it works. Make her jealous and she’ll have to admit it. It’ll get it out of her.”

He looks at you in amusement. “I can’t tell if you’re trying to help me or sabotage me.”

You scoff. “Accept the generosity before I change my mind.”

He shakes his head with a bitter smile, clicking his tongue against his teeth quietly. “That won’t work, anyway.”

“It will,” you assert. “Trust me, Diggory. It will.” 

He shakes his head again. “I don’t even know how to–”

“Date someone else,” you supply easily.

“I don’t like anyone else.”

You shoot him an unimpressed look. “No shit. We already established that you still like Evelyn.”

“So, I ask out a girl I’m not actually interested in?” He asks in disbelief, discomfort evident on his face. 

“Yeah,” you shrug. 

He frowns and pauses, glancing at you with confusion. “That’s cruel beyond belief, [Y/L/N].”

His admonition makes you pause, too. The familiarity of the proposal strikes you at once. It was exactly what you were doing – stringing along a clueless Selwyn until graduation and then breaking his heart without a second thought. The cruelty of it all had always been a nagging thought – but its noise had been distant and dull. It was now ringing in your ears however, your skewed perception of morality hitting you at once.

“It’s not– cruel.” You try to tell yourself, more than him. “It–”

“It’s heartless,” he says again, matter-of-factly. “This, and what you’re doing to Selwyn, by the way.” 

You sigh at his moral policing. You knew he was right, but Selwyn was a problem for another night. 

“Fine,” you relent. “How about a girl who agrees to be your fake girlfriend?” 

He scoffs lightly. “If that were so easy to find, wouldn’t you have gotten a fake boyfriend already?”

You both stop walking at the same time, your footsteps coming to a screeching halt simultaneously. It was almost as if Cedric’s words had materialized and turned into physical roadblocks. His gaze slowly turns to you, honey-brown eyes landing on yours, but you’re already watching him in stunned realization. 

“[Y/L/N] –” he begins thoughtfully.

“No. No. Absolutely not.” That look in his eyes — the one like he’s already decided. Like he’s already seen this through to the end. It makes you nervous in a way you can’t name. You start walking ahead of him rather quickly but he catches up to you with no difficulty once again. His long strides match your pace perfectly.

“This was your idea–” He tries to reason again, the sound of hurried footsteps echoing off the walls as he chases after you with a walking stride.

“My idea– was not for us to do that–” you huff out as you keep up the pace, unrelenting.

He finally catches up to you and reaches for your arm, his hand closing gently around your elbow. The warmth of his touch sends a jolt through you, halting your steps more effectively than his words ever could. “It makes sense.”

You blink, momentarily thrown. “No–” 

“You won’t have to be needlessly cruel just to keep a prospect around–”

“Cedric.”

“And I won’t have to heartlessly pretend to like a girl who doesn’t know I’m pretending,” his hands find your shoulders. “It makes sense. You know it does.”

“I won’t–”

“And no more nightly dates with Selwyn,” he interrupts. “No more dodging his kisses.” 

That finally shuts you up. You shake your head though you can’t find the words to protest anymore. Cedric decides to sweeten the deal further.

“No life sentence in Azkaban, either.”

“Shut up.”

His lips tug upwards slightly and your eyes can’t help but catch on the movement. You let your eyes roam over his face — annoyingly symmetrical, irritatingly warm — and suddenly it hits you how easy it would be to fall into this lie. How dangerously tempting it is to pretend.

“No one would even believe it,” you say weakly. “We hate each other.”

“You mean you hate me?” He smiles dryly. “Because I don’t recall ever hating you.”

You avert your eyes before you start tracing his smile lines again with your gaze. “I just mean– we’re always at each other’s throats.” 

“That makes it more believable, don’t you think?” 

You shake your head, closing your eyes. “It’s a bad idea–”

You don’t get to finish your sentence before a familiar owl flies overhead and perches itself on the ledge next to you, clutching a letter. It doesn’t take long for you to realize who it’s from – the intricate green envelope and Selwyn family crest catching your eye immediately.

Cedric raises an eyebrow as he holds back a smirk. You grumble under your breath before plucking the letter from the owl begrudgingly. 

“Aren’t you going to open it?” He questions as he stifles a smile.

“No,” you huff in annoyance. “He … sends these every night. A ‘goodnight poem’, he calls them.”

Cedric doesn’t say anything, his grin already revealing he knows what your next words will be. 

You glance at the letter again — Selwyn’s cursive looping like a snake about to bite. What were you even doing?

You sigh, knowing exactly what this meant. “Fine. Let’s do it.” You cast the ignition spell, watching the green wax seal curl into smoke. “Let’s date.”

He blinks. “Wait — really?”

 “Don’t make me change my mind.”

 His grin returns, slow and lopsided. “Pretend to date,” he corrects.

“What?”

“We’re pretending,” he says cheekily, your cheeks aflame at his teasing cadence. "Don’t fall in love with me, [Y/L/N].”  

With a determined roll of your eyes, you turn on your heel. “As if, Diggory.”

Second part coming soon!

[asphaltsugar]

𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | cedric diggory

cedric diggory x f!reader 2,733 words warnings; nothing except for fluff<3 summary; cedric diggory had an idea. that was never a good sign.

 He was staring again. 

 Out from the corner of her eye, she could see the bluish-gray of his irises, a rosy cheek squished against the heel of his palm where it rested, the fingers of his other hand drumming against the top of his desk. She shifted in her seat, color growing in her cheeks as she tried to focus on what Professor Trelawney was saying. Alas, between Cedric’s eyes boring into the side of her skull and the tedious Divination lesson, her attempts were aimless. 

 Her fingers curled around the edge of her parchment, her fists tightening with the paper balled inside them, her face so hot she was certain her skin would break out in a layer of sweat any moment. He was planning something. She could feel it. The only problem was, she had no idea what could possibly be going on inside that head of his. 

 The realm of possibilities were endless, and she found herself tapping her own fingers against the top of her desk, her opposite hand absentmindedly scribbling notes onto her piece of parchment in an attempt to ignore him. From the corner of her eye, she could see a blur of black and yellow as Cedric moved, and she blinked up to where Professor Trelawney stood at the front of the class, her back now turned. Cedric was leaning over the aisle now, his Hufflepuff scarf dangling in front of his chest, ignoring the looks he was getting from Fred and George where they sat behind them.

 She pouted. There was no way in hell the Weasley twins would let her live this down. 

 “Meet me in the South Wing at nine?” Cedric whispered in her ear and she narrowed her eyes, turning to eye his features. His lips were curved into a soft yet mischievous grin, a knowing glint in his eyes. Somehow, she had a strange feeling about this. “Nine o’clock?” She scoffed beneath her breath. “You are crazy, Cedric Diggory,” she shook her head. “You realize that I am not a prefect? I’ll be in trouble if I’m seen.”

 Cedric tittered and leaned in even closer, his breath a whisper against the shell of her ear and creeping shivers down the coil of her spine. “You know I’ll take care of you,” he murmured, her cheeks flooding with warmth. “Don’t you trust me?”

 It was then that the bells from outside began to chime, indicating that the period has ended, therefore finally, Divination was over. She practically sprung from her seat, nearly butting heads with Cedric as she pulled the strap of her bag over her shoulder, making haste towards the exit. 

 She began her descent down the ladder leading to the hallway outside the Divination classroom and as soon as her feet hit the ground, Cedric was calling her name. She picked up her pace, her robes flying behind her as she dashed down the corridor, making it as far as the top step of the staircase before his hand was latching around her wrist, tugging her back into him. 

 “Cedric,” she whined, turning to peer over her shoulder at him. He chuckled, “you’re awfully fast.” She huffed, blowing a strand of hair away from her face. “And somehow, not fast enough,” she muttered. Cedric’s grin widened and his hands rose between them, a few rolls of parchment spilling over his knuckles. “You forgot your notes.”

 Her chest heaved when she sighed and snatched the parchment from his hands, stuffing them into the knapsack at her hip. “So… you’re meeting me in the South Wing at nine, yes?” He said, hopeful as he swiped his tongue between his lips, eyeing the way she gleaned down to her shoes. She exhaled again, leaning her shoulder against the wall as students passed by and Cedric, too, leaned into the wall, stuffing his hands in his trouser pockets, awaiting her answer. Unfortunately for her, she was a sucker for Cedric Diggory.

 “Do I really have a choice?” She finally asked, pinching her bottom lip between her teeth as she looked back up at him, to which Cedric’s lips peeled to unveil his pearly whites, and he chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m afraid not,” he replied. “So, I take it I’ll see you then? Say… in the courtyard?”

 Her shoulders droop in defeat, but when Cedric draws in closer to her body until his toes were teasing the top of hers, she knew she couldn’t stay upset for long. She gazed up at the Hufflepuff boy, and it was then that she realized just how close he was, his breath looming over her skin. Her cheeks burned and finally, she tore herself away, taking steps backwards down the staircase. 

 “I’ll see you tonight,” she confirmed. “But if I’m caught, I’ll never let you live it down, do you hear me, Diggory?” 

 Cedric rolled his eyes as he watched her venture further down the stairs, “you shouldn’t worry so much. You’re in good hands!”

 Sneaking to the South Wing after curfew proved to be a lot more difficult than she had initially anticipated. She wondered if Cedric chose tonight on purpose, if he somehow knew that Snape and Filch and Mrs Norris would be around almost every single corner. She huffed as she pressed herself further into the wall, hoping the shadows were doing enough to conceal her as Mrs Norris pranced by, thankfully not looking her way. She exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding in as she turned into the– hopefully– empty corridor, looking around for Cedric.

 Where was that boy?

 She stopped in front of the door leading to the Clock Tower Courtyard to turn and peer over her shoulder, narrowing her eyes as she searched the end of the corridor to make sure the course was clear. She pushed open the doors as carefully as she could to avoid making noise, hoping that Cedric would be somewhere on the other side, waiting for her. She guided the doors closed behind her, wincing as they latched closed, hoping she had been cautious enough to not attract any attention. 

 She turned and blinked around the dark, empty courtyard, the boy in question still nowhere in sight. Her chest heaved when she huffed, crossing her arms as frustration swelled inside of her. It wasn’t like him to be late, but it was likely he could be messing with her. Cedric always loved playing games, but it was late and the wind had a chill to it, and the idea that she could be caught by Professor Snape had her on the very edge. 

 She turned around on her heels and was so close to slipping back inside the castle, but before she could even get her hands on the doors, a pair of arms slithered around her waist and her feet were lifted from the ground, the hairs on her body standing erect. Her lips parted and she nearly screeched, and she would’ve if she hadn’t realized who it was holding her close, her eyebrows knitted together when she turned to face Cedric, balling up her fist to give him a not-so-kind knock against the chest. 

 “Merlin’s beard, Cedric, don’t sneak up on me like that!” She whined, narrowing her eyes when he laughed. “It’s not funny. You know you happened to choose the night where nearly the entire teaching staff is on the prowl?” Cedric only rolled his eyes as he pressed her back closer into his chest, swaying them back and forth as he buried his lips in her hair. “You underestimate Cedric,” he murmurs into the top of her head, “Cedric is a lot more than a pretty face, you know.”

 She rolled her eyes and turned in his arms to face him and even in the dark of the night, she was still able to make out the gleam in his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re thinking,” she whispered, eyes surging into his, her lips twisting into a scowl. “But I already think I’m not going to like whatever it is.” 

 Cedric’s bottom lip jut out into a pout as she began to slip from her arms and he caught her hands before she could detach completely. “You’re no fun,” he groaned, squeezing her hands even tighter when she whined, trying to pull away. “But I’m going to prove you wrong.”

 She pursed her lips, giving up her attempts to tug her hands away from his to once again gaze up into the slate grayness of his irises, illuminated with mischief. Despite his claims that she should feel otherwise, she had a terrible feeling about this. 

 “Cedric…” she trailed off as he began to tug her forward by the hand, leading her through the moonlit courtyard, dread creeping down her spine and making her insides churn. “...where are you taking me?” She asked, her glare like a dagger against the back of his head. 

 If he could feel her gaze, he paid it no mind. 

 He led her outside of the courtyard and past the walls surrounding the castle, leading her further into the black of the night. “Cedric,” she whined, shaking his arm until his stride fell to her pace, glancing to where she walked beside him. “It’s cold. You couldn’t have chosen somewhere indoors?” She asked as he led her further down the hill until he came to a stop and she turned to gaze at the moonlit water ahead of them.

 And it was then that she realized where he had taken her. 

 “Cedric…” she murmured his name in a warning tone, eyeing him as wiggled his hand out of her grasp and knelt down to work at his shoes, tossing them off somewhere behind him. Her lips fell agape, “Cedric!” She shook her head. “You cannot be serious!”

 Cedric’s lips only curved into a crescent, beaming at her as he rolled his socks off his feet and began to shoulder his robe off of him. “What’s wrong?” He tittered, cocking an eyebrow to his hairline. “Scared?”

 She pressed her lips together in a firm line and crossed her arms over her chest, scoffing at the Black Lake, the moonlight rippling in its waving waters. “It’s freezing out here, Cedric,” she hissed between her teeth. “And there’s… there’s things in there.”

 Cedric chuckled, “I should know. I had to swim it to rescue you for the task last month, remember?”

 She scoffed again and rolled her eyes as Cedric finally stripped down to nothing but his undergarments, backpedaling towards the shore. “So? Are you coming?” He questioned, the water rolling around his ankles. She raised her eyebrows and scoffed, “you’re insane, Cedric Diggory,” she said, disbelieving the scene as it unraveled before her. She could still make out Cedric’s grin even as he waded further into the water until the lake swallowed his shoulders, leaving everything except for his head submerged. “Crazy! And there is no way that I am swimming in that freezing, creature-infested water!”

 Cedric rolled his eyes and leaned his head back against the surface, somehow reveling in the icy cold lake as if it were a warm bath. She shivered, chills littering her skin with goosebumps partly due to the breeze but also from just watching him. “You needn’t worry,” Cedric said as he rose to his feet, droplets of water dripping from his arms and chest as he gave her a little salute. “Your knight in shining armor is he–!”

 Her eyes widened in their sockets and her lips fell apart in a gasp as Cedric tumbled backwards as if something had grabbed ahold of him, tugging him below the surface. She stepped closer to the water, searching the surface for any sign of him, her search coming to no avail. 

 A string of panicked curses tumbled from her lips as she made quick work of ripping her shoes from her feet, quickly stripping her body of her clothes until she, too, was down to her underwear. Pursing her lips and puffing out her cheeks, she willed herself to wade into the water– which was just as cold as she had anticipated it to be. But Cedric still had not reappeared to the surface and she knew that if something had really grabbed him, it was only a matter of time until it was too late. 

 “Cedric!” She called his name, shivering as the water rose to her shoulders, ice frosting her limbs and making her muscles numb, every move she made harder than the last. “Cedric!” She called again, her feet no longer able to touch the sand below, her arms swinging as hard as they could to keep her head above the surface. Her heart began to drum against her chest– how long had it been since Cedric had been dragged down under? Was he alright? Was he still able to breathe?

 She squeezed her eyelids shut, trying to muster up all the courage she had to will herself below the surface despite her fears of whatever lurked beneath, despite how cold she was. Just as she had begun to take a deep breath, something latched around her ankle and dragged her down below the water, completely submerging her. Her mouth parted to release her scream as she snapped her eyelids open, still somehow to make out Cedric’s grin even below the surface of the dark lake. 

 She furrowed her brows as he circled his arms around her waist, trying to sneak his lips onto hers as she kicked and flailed, bringing them both back up to the surface. She gasped as air filled her lungs, her cheeks warm with anger as she watched Cedric brush his hair back away from his face, laughing as she pushed water into his face. 

 “You are such an arse!” She shrieked, her body trembling as the breeze hit her wet skin. “I thought something had you! I thought… I thought you were… ugh!” She kicked her way to an area where her feet could touch the ground, crossing her arms back over her chest as she turned away from him, glaring up at the castle. Cedric chuckled as he made his way over to where she stood, slithering his arms around her waist and dropping his chin to her shoulder, giving the wet flesh of her neck a few playful kisses.

 “Awe, are you mad at me?” He cooed close to her ear and she pressed her lips together tighter, yet, allowing herself to fall back into his warmth. Cedric pouted, planting more kisses along the curve of her shoulder. “Please don’t be mad at Cedric,” he said, knocking the pitch of his voice up a few octaves. “Cedric isn’t a bad boy. Cedric loves you very much.”

 She rolled her eyes again but couldn’t suppress the smile creeping up on her lips, breathing out a laugh. “You’re such an idiot, Cedric Diggory,” she tittered, twisting in his arms, his interlocked hands now pressing against the small of her back. She rested the sides of her fists against the slick skin of his chest as his forehead dropped against hers, scrunching his nose at her. “But because of my brilliant plan, you got in the water,” he muttered, shrugging his shoulders as he gently swayed their bodies back and forth. “So, you know, I’m not a total idiot.”

 She scoffed, but it came out as more of a laugh as he nuzzled his nose against hers, breathing in her scent, drawing her body closer to his. “This is nice,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss beneath her eye. She shrugged, “I could do without the ‘freezing my arse off’ part.”

 Cedric chuckled and the tip of his nose dragged down along her cheek until his lips were against hers, gentle as they captured them in a soft, chaste kiss, the pad of his thumb soothing over the skin at the small of her back. Her heart stuttered in her chest as they pulled away, and she blinked up at him, reveling in the reassurance that she was in her boy’s arms, and he wasn’t going to let her go. 

 With her still in his arms, he kicked back off the ground, leading her further into the lake. “It’s a beautiful night,” he whispered, brushing wet strands of hair away from her face and behind her ear. “Let’s enjoy it.”

a/n; OMG I FINALLY FINISHED AN IMAGINE! so sorry this one took so long to write up and post, i went to disney world and universal studios at the beginning of may for my birthday so i didn't have any time to write and then when i got back home, i just didn't feel like writing lol but! it's been awhile since i've written for the best hufflepuff boy and there's definitely not enough fics out there on this platform for him so here you go<3

[asphaltsugar]

la dolly vita (cool as ice cream)

tommy slater x counselor!reader — 1.5k

supervising capture the flag isn’t so bad when you’ve got company.

extras: tommy doesn’t get possessed bc i said so; kind of forced proximity; no use of y/n; to the anon that asked me to write a fic here it is; ending is kind of rushed so don’t mind if it has weird pacing; title really has nothing to do with the fic i just like the song with the same name from the smashing pumpkins

It was too quiet with the campers hiding. The wind took their space, the faint giggles you thought you could hear as they hid or ran brushing past the trunks and cabins that concealed their figures.

The dingy light at the doorframe bled a yellow onto his frame sitting at your side. Everything else was clouded with a balmy, sharp blue as the moon poised high, watching as your eyes scanned the campgrounds. As far as you could tell with what little you could see, you were the only counselors out on watch—Alice and Arnie could be anywhere.

In the uncommon still of the night with its pockets of mischief maneuvering closer to either flag of red and blue, you tried not to dwell on his humming every now and then, some tune you’d grown used to hearing from his pursed lips or the radio’s static from his cabin window.

It was like this summer wanted you and Tommy to be closer—physically.

Practically every chore you were assigned to was with his name written right next to it. Your group of campers would want to join with his for an archery competition or a game in the lake, to which he’d shrug and stand by your side until they were collectively coming over, groaning about lunch.

One of the counselors had chosen some sort of scary movie to watch for movie night last week, the scenes enough to keep their eyes either glued to the screen or hidden behind their hands. You were glad they were preoccupied; the creaking of the door would have definitely ruined the mood, even if it had made them jump.

There hadn’t been many spots left towards the back, save for one right next to him. He had given you a small smile as you sat down, mumbling a ‘hey’ under his breath and letting you know you didn't miss much of the movie. He had shuffled his legs so as to give you more room, his posture shifted a bit straighter. He had walked you back to your cabin once it was over, whispering a ‘good night’ you returned at your door.

Every past year you were at Camp Nightwing you had considered him a friendly face, one you were almost relieved to see when you stepped off the bus the first days of camp—it was only a matter of time before you found yourself aware of where he was—and perhaps what he was in your mind—in regard to you.

He didn’t seem to mind the seemingly constant pairing, to your relief. If anything, he was eager to offer company if you wanted it, and his energy was infectious once it dwelled. All the more reason to wonder if perhaps your eyes were consciously looking out for him in the mornings to when it was announced lights were to be put out.

A clearing of his throat made you glance over at him. The only two counselors in sight whose names might as well be carved into the adirondack chairs that stuck to whatever skin it touched.

“Who d’you think’s gonna win?” he asked, looking at his hands in his lap. If you were supposed to see the sly smile at his lips, you didn't point it out.

You tilted your head to give him a look of faux consideration. “Well, given we’ve already seen three-quarters of Shadyside brought over here, you tell me.”

“Hey, they could pull it off,” he said, putting his hands up in defense. “Maybe they’ve got some tricks up their sleeves.”

You smiled at that possibility; he was ever the enthusiast. “Maybe.” Your voice trailed off as one of the campers donning a blue shirt snuck behind one of the cabins in your line of sight. “Kids do have great imaginations.”

The night stretched on as campers were escorted by opposing teams to the designated areas reserved for the ‘jails’, some rescued with serious hushes and sneakers flattening grass with the pace they kept. A few would come up the steps asking for a bandaid after having tripped in the woods or scraped a hand, to which Tommy told them to stay put as he left; you would ask them how they felt about their position in the game, nodding along to whatever elaborate plan they had in mind, wished them good luck once Tommy returned with a bandaid and a generous smile, repeating your words with a hand to their shoulder.

As he sat back down, he looked around the grounds, tucking his hair behind his ears. You could barely hear him when he spoke after a while of quiet company.

“Are you hungry?”

With patient silence he walked you to his cabin, just a few feet from your own. When you went past a few kids hiding, he put a finger to his lips as to zip them closed and toss the key into the bonfire, no matter if they were wearing red or blue.

He let you in first, wooden steps just giving in to his boots, and closed the door softly behind him. He didn’t turn the lamps on, so the inside wore the same blue as the moon gave the campgrounds. He brushed past your waiting figure, a hand briefly meeting your elbow.

“I’ve got some stuff stashed from the kitchen earlier,” he whispered, gesturing with a nod of his head to follow him to a bed at the farthest end. “Hopefully it’s still here, anyway,” he added with a biting of his bottom lip, though more so to himself at his hand pulling the drawer to the table beside the frame open.

It wasn’t anything fancy. A few pastries in napkins he unraveled with a small hum of relief, a few bags of chips, two root beers near the AC. He gave you first pick, tips of his fingers brushing along your own.

You ate in between talk of plans over the fall, stories of instances at camp when you were at opposite ends that made you laugh as you drank from the rather lukewarm can and he recounted with low chuckles. You didn’t mind the warmth, welcomed it as you settled alongside him on his plaid sheets.

Maybe you welcomed it a little too much, because the next second you were a coughing fit, reaching over to place the drink blindly on the table. Tommy immediately took it out of your hand to do so himself and readjusted so he sat right in front of you, as close as he could without being practically on top of you with how small the mattress was and gently put his hands under your forearms.

“Hey, hey, arms up,” he whispered through a crooked smile, hands following suit as you did as he said. “There ya go. You ok?”

You nodded despite the burn that now crept along your throat. If he believed you or not he didn’t pry, instead waiting patiently for your breathing to even. This close you could smell the firewood in his hair.

The door then sounded with a crude creak. You both turned to the outline that stood blue and plain before it made itself known.

“Tommy, you sly dog, I didn’t think you had it in you,” Arnie’s voice crooned. “And during color war, too. Hell yeah.” With Tommy’s back to him and you sitting against the wall, you would have rolled your eyes if it wasn’t you he was referring to.

The pull of your features was involuntary; a curious half-smile at his state, a raise of your eyebrows and a clearing of your throat from the root beer. Though you could practically smell the weed that clung to Arnie’s clothes and tone of voice, you wouldn’t lie and say his words didn’t pique your interest.

There was a sigh from Tommy, his eyes dropping shut as his head was still angled away from you. A low ‘oh my god’ stumbled from his lips. “Arnie, shut up.” The slices of moonlight that lay upon his skin from the window showed his cheeks and ears flushed a ripe red, an afternoon sunburn in the late hours of the night.

He just giggled, stumbling into the cabin as he went over to his own bed, leaning over with loose limbs to slide a hand under his pillow. If he wanted to say anything in retaliation, it was slurred into the cool blue as he got whatever it was he came inside to get. It sounded more like an improvised tune, one made up as he went back to the door not without nearly tripping over his own feet or whatever lay on the floor, which Tommy had steered you clear of.

You did catch his last words, delivered with a childish whistle and whisper.

“The night is still young, Tommy!”

The door rattled at his departure, the scene returning to that of before. This time with a smile that tugged at your lips and a warmth not from the root beer. Your eyes glanced at his shifting at the head of his bed, rustling the sheets as he moved.

He let out a low groan at his quip, rolling his eyes before leaning back to sit against his headboard like before, lulling his head along the wall, his voice spoken through a sigh.

“I should have never told him.”

[asphaltsugar]

twilight on netflix, working on my last assignment, mother approved my getting a tattoo

[asphaltsugar]

thinking about cedric (yes again) pre relationship where you're friends and the common room is crowded and noisy as hell and you call him out to say something and he does that thing where he leans down so he can hear you better and and and

[asphaltsugar]

college!tommy slater x fem!reader

tommy’s willing to ease your pent up frustration. what’s a friend if not someone there to help?

extras: 18+ minors dni: thigh riding, tommy’s kind of awkward but he aims to please do not worry; no use of y/n; i am writing a longer drabble for him i was just plagued with this thought; also don’t mind if this is sort of choppy i have never written something like this so please bare with me anyways

He had been the one to bring it up in the quiet of the late night. You were both still awake, though the hour coaxed your lids to fall and his cadence to drop as if to not stir the summer air.

“Is there anything I can do?” spoken through a crooked smile, an innocent enough question to your complaints without their context at the moment, practically rhetorical, though he hoped you would say yes regardless. He knew of what you were talking about over the phone, and whether you were aware didn’t particularly matter.

You glanced over at him with suspicion in your glare, his eyes already on you. You responded with a shrug. “You tell me.”

After a moment he gestured with a nod of his head for you to meet him on the other end of the couch—you did, though not without an almost disbelieved smile you wondered if he could catch with the little light that slipped through the blinds.

Once close enough, he eyed you expectantly, light blues waiting for whatever you would say or do. He took notice of the way you sat—maybe you were waiting for him to move. He spread his legs.

Denim to cotton. You reassured him he didn’t have to do this if he didn’t want to.

“No... no,” he sighed—too quick, and a smile briefly tugged at your lips. “I don’t mind.” His upper half relaxed against the back of the couch. You caught the drag of his eyes along your figure in his lap, half lidded in a daze.

An ‘ok’ left your lips as you reached over to put your hands atop the couch. He leaned his head back so they were at either side, Adam’s apple flinching with a shaky breath that barely disturbed the space between his lips. You liked his hair this way, messy, strands weaving over blushed skin.

He watched as you moved, not wanting to disturb you—this was for your pleasure, after all. “Feels good?” he asked, though the cadence was barely audible, hands sliding to your hips; he doesn’t guide, just follows your movement. Metal circling his fingers left a cold tinge against your skin that you welcomed.

You nodded, breathed out a ‘yeah’. Tommy mumbled a ‘good’ under his bitten lip, not entirely realizing he’d adjusted his legs until your breath hitched at the reciprocating drag of his thigh. He paused for a second for your response, good or bad.

He could barely hear you when you muttered “do that again, Tommy”, but you didn’t have to ask him twice.

The rest was a continuous back and forth. He let his hands go from your thighs to your hips and back again while you moved, rings coming too, a grounding of sorts as you came down. He coaxed your movements with small mutterings between heavy breaths you could just catch: ‘there you go’s turned to a quiet mantra.

[asphaltsugar]

omg new tommy slater fic!!! i loved what you write. could you make a fanfic? fluff, any theme. I hope you keep writing, I just found your blog and I really liked it 💗

thank you! i definitely want to write one for sure, i just need some inspo but it will be done do not worry

[asphaltsugar]

can an app not try to be like tik tok for one second bc wtf is tumblr tv

[asphaltsugar]

there will be mature themes on this blog in terms of what i reblog and write! please be mindful of that if you are a minor—while i cannot control what you read, i do ask that you at least be respectful and do not interact with those posts.

📭 / CURRENTLY WRITING FOR,

fred weasley michael bluth from arrested development tommy slater from fear street a league of their own (1992 and 2022)

📬 / FOR ANY REQUESTS,

⋆ fluff and suggestive/smutty themes are fine. i am not comfortable with writing full smut—for me, this means p in v, i just don’t like writing it right now—or dark content of any kind, so please do not request it! if you’re not sure what counts as what, don’t hesitate to ask me :) please be mindful that i can also decline a request.

&. i am also not the best at writing angst—this is just a personal preference, so i tend not to write it as much—so i can’t guarantee a request of the sort will be my best work.

&. some hard no’s include: pregnancy, stepcest/fauxcest, self harm/eds, degradation of any kind, extreme gore, large age gaps or a very innocent reader . . .

&. i will not make any bots on c.ai, and i ask that you don’t take any character aus and make one yourself. if you want more content of a certain character, just ask me!

⋆ ‘x reader’s only; the reader will have no defining characteristics (hair type, skin color, etc.). i will write for gender neutral and female readers.

&. please only request characters and not the people portraying them.

⋆ drabbles and thoughts are always welcome!

─────────────────────── thank you! :)

[asphaltsugar]

TOMMY SLATER comes to your dorm after a baseball game. there’s dirt still rubbed on his cap and smeared on his cheek. his hair is messy, curling at his ears and the nape of his neck, reaching for the pink at the cartilage.

he’s giddy, no doubt. his canines show as he greets you at your desk, telling you he’ll take you out as a treat for your exam and his game.

your room is warm. there’s a buzz that comes from the window you managed to slide open a few hours earlier. the drag along your skin is familiar, a little heavy. his figure is much the same.

“wherever you’d like, whenever you’d like,” he smiles. he walks through your doorway, hitting the top of the frame with the palm of his hand before he’s out of sight. he closes the door behind him after sending you one last grin.

you sigh, lean back to stare at the ceiling, put your hands over your eyes. you have got to stop liking tommy slater.

[asphaltsugar]

tommy slater cannot stop looking at you.

he isn’t exactly making it subtle, either.

at the lake, he watches the shine of your skin when the water catches the light of the afternoon sun poised by its lonesome. a pretty sparkle that follows your frame, one he glances over for in between keeping his attention on the younger campers. he sits on the dock while you jump in with them, a harmless game they dragged you into (both literally and with their pleading).

when he isn’t looking, you notice he rolled his sleeves up, the sunscreen along his arms keeping it from a flush red. they look a bit bigger than last summer, and you almost feel invasive dragging your eyes down to where his hands are flat behind him, but it’s probably just the angle of the sun hitting his shoulders, forearms. the necklace underneath his shirt glints similarly to the lake stuck to your skin. his voice calls out through a smile for a few kids to be careful.

there are times when your eyes wander to their own accord, and he quickly averts his, squinting blues into whatever direction seems the most believable. even with the possibility you can’t really see him clearly from the glare atop the water, he isn’t taking any chances; you find it cute, boyish, wonder if he knows you don’t mind it.

[asphaltsugar]

added tommy slater to my list of who i’ll write for if anyone’s interested!

[asphaltsugar]

idk how to use tumblr, but I watched A league of their own (2022) a thousand years after everyone and now I have nowhere else to post drawings of these stupid lesbians

[asphaltsugar]

who was gonna tell me jason bateman helped produce hell of a summer.

[asphaltsugar]

dating fred weasley ˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡°

[asphaltsugar]

EVERY BREATHE YOU TAKE - II

ZIGGY KATS - (2022, When You Finish Saving The World)

pt1 ⌗ no use of y/n , not proofread

7:47 - about fifteen minutes since you’d left. Fifteen minutes since you’d dodged his dreadful kiss. Fifteen minutes since you practically spat your disinterest at his face in disgust. To say he was humiliated was the understatement of the century.

Ziggy lets out an exasperated, shaky sigh, rubbing a cold hand over his face in frustration. He just didn’t understand you. He’d caught your stolen glances before, he’d noticed the way your fingers lingered on his when he’d give you your earbud. He knew you’d stare at him, thinking he wouldn’t notice, but he did. He always did. He may be emotionally stunted, but he thought surely all those things weren’t meaningless, were they? Had he really misread everything THAT bad?

Either way, you’d dodged his kiss. For whatever reason. And now he was left on his bed alone, fingers digging into the sheets under him, clutching a handful of the fabric as he tries to make sense of what had happened almost half an hour ago now. New theories race through his mind, the silence that engulfed him somehow louder than before.

Had he really gotten it all wrong? Were you even friends now? He groans, throwing himself back onto his bed, arms shooting up to his head, resting over his face. “idiot, idiot, idiot.” He grumbles to himself, letting himself fully embrace the self-pity that had him in a chokehold. He tightens his arms around his head, his wails of frustration muffled.

He spends what seems like an eternity sulking in his confusion and doubt into the sleeves of his sweater before unraveling his arms, letting them fall beside him. He stares up at his stupid popcorn ceiling, the same ceiling you were both looking at moments before he had to ruin everything.

Unable to bear the sight, he turns his head, only to see his ipod sitting menacingly beside him with the earbuds you’d shared, still connected. His brows crease into a furrow, a frown falling over his lips. Why did everything remind him of you now?

He picks up the device, realizing that song had been playing on repeat. That stupid song. Now all he’ll think about when he listens to it is devastating rejection. His fingers curl around it, throwing it to the other side of his bed in childish spite. He couldn’t afford to think about you right now. He lays his head back onto his mattress, a long exhale following. He pulls the backs of his palms up to his eyes, as if trying to rub away his worry. He needed to be consoled.

He sits up, supporting himself with his elbows as he tries thinking of anyone but you who he could go to. Usually, if he felt like complaining and sulking, it was almost instinct to find you. But right now, you weren’t available. Though, he did have one other person. Unfortunately, the only other person. “fuck me” He mutters in defeat.

Reluctantly, he pulls himself away from his bed, leaving his room to seek guidance from his mom. Surely she’d have the solution to his unfortunate predicament.

—

“Right so, this is about—”

“Jesus, mom, yes. It is about … her”

He grumbles, rubbing his hand along the nape of his neck in humiliation. He hardly went to her for girl advice, especially when it was romantic. He stands in front of her desk, an annoyed frown drawn on his lips as he twiddles his thumbs.

“Honey, I can’t help you if you won’t tell me what happened.” She shakes her head, adjusting her glasses as she fixates her gaze on Ziggy. She has her hands clasped together sitting on the table as she waits for him to start talking. He sighs, closing his eyes as he squeezes the bridge of his nose with his index and thumb.

“okay, yeah, yeah. I guess so.” He rolls out the chair in front of her desk, sitting on it and making uncomfortable eye contact. He clears his throat, averting his gaze, knowing if he held it, he’d probably explode.

“I know we’ve been friends for years and stuff, but today just felt different, y’know?” he shrugs, his thumb running along the inside of his palm. “she was laying next to me and she was just.. there. she looked at my lips, i looked at hers, i thought she wanted it!”

She cringes a little at how that sounded, he catches on and immediately backtracks. “okay, wait no, no, like—“ He stammers helplessly “I thought she wanted to kiss, mom, okay?” He admits, cheeks redden as he sinks into the chair, arms crossing defensively. He sheepishly turns his head, swallowing harshly. His mother nods slowly, mouth gaping as if trying to form some sort of comforting gesture.

“well, did you?” She asks carefully, studying his expression with each word. He almost scowls, instead pressing his lips into a line and glancing at her, as if saying ‘are you kidding?’ She hums in response, reaching out to rest her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, Ziggy… what happened? did she get spooked?”

He hesitates, almost as if not knowing himself. He tilts his head, nose scrunching. “Well, um…” He inhales to speak, then pauses for a second to think, trying to recall how you’d reacted before. “She pulled away before we could kiss, then I panicked like a fucking…” He glances at his mom for a second, a small grimace on her face at his vulgar language, but stays quiet. “so um, I told her that it was a mistake, and uh, then she seemed upset and left.”

She lets out a sigh, fingers rubbing at the knot near her forehead. She hated that her son was so emotionally oblivious. “Right.” She responds, shaking her head before looking at him. “Did it occur to you that maybe she did want it, but after calling it a mistake, she was embarrassed? Maybe the poor girl wasn’t ready, Ziggy.” It was like a lightbulb moment for the boy. He runs a hand through his jagged half-curls, stretching a little on the chair while processing. “Wow, uh, no it didn’t...” He murmurs quietly, adjusting himself.

Silence fills the air for a little longer than it should have. He clears his throat, “Okay, well, how do I fix whatever this is? Do I text her?” He asks, leaning against the desk, rather desperate to get back to you somehow.

She wasn’t the best at giving relationship advice. The half-assed love she has for Ziggy’s father was a clear indication of it—but she was determined to salvage what you two had; You were the best influence for Ziggy and she enjoyed your company.

“Yes, yes text her,” she ushers him to pull his phone out and walks up beside him, “better yet, let me do it.” she insists. “God no!” He lets out a humorless laugh and furrows his brows as if she’d just said something absurd— which she did. She slaps his arm with no malice, frowning “Come on, i’m a woman, i know what she wants to hear. You wanted help and i’m giving it to you!”

He sighs, opening your contact and glossing over the last conversation you’d had,

‘wna come over?? i hab weed from the shady guy B)’

‘heellll yeaaahhhhh gimme like twenty minutes b rite there:)’

‘hurrypls’

You hadn’t been able to even touch it when you got there, you’d gotten preoccupied with the stupid song. He hand hovers above the weed message to cover it. “Just tell me what to say” He quickly says, his other hand pulling up the keyboard. She nods, hand resting on his chair as she thinks for a second.

“Right, well. Start with, ‘I apologize for my actions an—”

“Mom, there’s no fucking way I’d ever say that in the history of ever.”

“Jesus, Ziggy just type it! Trust me, i’m your mother. And stop cussing! nasty habit.”

He hesitates, staring at the blinking line above the keyboard before shaking his head.

“Yeah, no way. I’m no—“

She tears the phone from his grasp, speed walking to the other room.

“MOM, I SWEAR TO GOD.”

Ziggy shoots out of his chair and chases behind her. She quickly shuts the door and adjusts her glasses as she tries typing it in as fast as her facebook-mom fingers could.

He slams open the door and lets out a few exasperated breathes. She supported her elbow with her free hand, staring at the phone in anticipation. “You’ll thank me in a few years when your married.”

“You didn’t.” He glances at his phone.

She hisses playfully, nose scrunching. “I did…”

He snatches back his phone, hoping, praying, that she was lying.

Alas, there stood the cheesiest message in the world.

‘Ziggy here. I would like to apologize if my actions caused you any discomfort. It was not my intention to, and I hope you’ll forgive me. I respect and care for you a lot.’

Just as he finished reading, below it appeared the one word that made his heart stop.

read

“Oh my God.” He scrunches his hand up into his hair, letting out a loud groan. “She didn’t want to talk before, now she’ll completely just…”

You were typing.

He exhales heavily, hand dropping from his hair to his forehead. His mom looks over his shoulder at the phone, putting her hand on his other shoulder and squeezing it. “Just watch, she’ll forgive you and comment on how respectful you were!”

‘hi mrs katz’

Her expression fades. “What the hell? How’d she know it was me?” Ziggy stares at her blankly. The phone buzzes again, both gazes immediately drawn.

‘sorry to make you worry mrs :(( i mafe a misyake it’s not ziggys fault’

“Oh, she’s a sweet thing.” She frowns, shaking his shoulder. He rolls his eyes, rolling his shoulder to brush away her hand. His thumbs hover over the keyboard, doing a little dance as he tries to make up a good response.

‘hey it’s ziggy. for reals this time’

“Real nice, Ziggy.” She grumbles. He tsks, swatting her away. “Let me live, geez. I can fix this.” He sits down on the couch, hunched over on his phone, mom following behind.

‘im sorry if u thoufht i was a dick and sorry if ur feelings were hurt”

“Okay, no. Rewrite that.” She nudges his shoulder with hers, shaking her head in disapproval. He nods, deleting part of the sentence.

‘im really sorry i was a dick i just didn’t want to ruin what we had already but i totally get it if you don’t feel the same about me or anything’

He was practically confessing, but in that moment he didn’t care, he just wanted to save your friendship. Or.. whatever-ship. He stares at the screen, gnawing at his bottom lip. “That was decent.” His mom says softly, rubbing his shoulder. “You’re being vulnerable.”

He superseded the urge to scoff or roll his eyes. He cracks a half-smile. “Yeah.” He glances back down at his screen.

typing…

hi guys sorry for disappearing hahaa i had privated the og pt 2 bc it was wayyy too fast and i just didn’t like it but here’s the second part :p new part coming soonnnn(?) thanks for reading! feedback is appreciated ㅤᵕ̈