#glad I started early because it seems like such an easy assignment

[astrea-y]

I've been learning Japanese for the last year and nothing is more humbling than trying to put together a presentation in the language you are learning

[100vern]

the great british fake-off | xmh

you thought the guy in the hawaiian-print shirt who seems physically incapable of being quiet would be the most annoying person here, so imagine your shock when it's xu minghao, who has seemingly decided you're the enemy and keeps sabotaging you. a baking competition for charity might have others on their best behavior, but what's a little sugar without some spice?

❆ pairing: minghao x reader ❆ genre: great british bake-off, holiday au; crack, fluff ❆ wordcount: 5.5k ❆ rating: e for everyone ❆ warnings: some swearing, minghao is a saboteur, idiots abound. ❆ credits: this netflix psd template for the banner. this recipe for the yule log; this recipe for the gingerbread house; and this recipe for the entremet. divider from here. this post for the divider. this was roughly edited by me, so any and all mistakes are my own. ❆ written for: the winter with you collab hosted by @camandemstudios. thank you for letting me participate! please make sure to check out the rest of the stories as they're posted. ♡ ❆ author's note: i had this rotting away in my wips since literally 2021, so even though it started as a completely different story, i'm so glad it's finally seeing the light of day even if it's not what i originally intended. (also, i know the banner says 12 contestants but the holiday specials only had a couple, okay. i forgot when i made it and i wasn't going back to fix it.)

The obnoxious one is wearing an aloha-print shirt.

He’s also extremely loud, his raucous, fake laughter filling every corner of the large warehouse you’ve been assigned to for filming. Makes a show of batting his eyelashes, throwing his head back every time someone cracks a joke that’s not even funny, comes up with nonsensical nicknames for the entire crew just to suck up to them.

“John Davies? Mind if I call you Joe?”

Joe doesn’t even make sense as a nickname for John, but John fucking loves it, apparently. Looks at the annoying guy like he just watched him string the stars in the sky.

But it’s the shirt—god, the shirt drives you absolutely crazy. He’s about to go on national television, be a household name, and some ill-fitting, charity shop Hawaiian print shirt is what he woke up and chose to wear. What’s his angle here? Appeal to the public with some sob story about only being able to afford second-hand clothes so that’s why he’s competing? Needs the money to care for a sick relative?

(The expensive watch on his wrist and his limited-drop sneakers tell an entirely different story, but you’re keeping that to yourself for now. No reason to play your hand so early.)

As much as you hate the shirt, you have to admit it suits him. The colors are garish and unsightly, just as obnoxious as he is, and you can’t stare at it too long because you start going cross-eyed. Looking at him feels about the same as stuffing your mouth with a bunch of sour candies: you get that same burn in the back of your jaw, same scrunched-up, grossed-out look on your face; have to squeeze your eyes shut to blink back tears.

You don’t even know his name, but you hate him immediately.

Your eyes scan the other contestants. None of them inspire the same level of animosity within you as the annoying one does; all of them nearly unremarkable. A variety of ages, appearances, backgrounds. You hear one say they’re a retired investment banker. There’s an accountant, a teacher, a fucking aerospace engineer.

And then it’s his turn to introduce himself. He clears his throat, speaks with an easy, practiced confidence. Completely void of nerves. Makes eye contact with everyone in your conversation circle. Gesticulates wildly as he speaks, immediately endears everyone to him.

“I’m Tim,” he says, and you nearly recoil at how honeyed his voice is. “But you can call me Tim. I’m thirty-eight, originally from a small town. Work as a…”

You can barely stand to listen to it anymore, each “Nice to meet you, Tim!” like another punch to the gut. How can’t these people see right through him? How are they falling for his bullshit? You should’ve known. Producers always throw in at least one bomb to up the ratings—a secret millionaire, someone rude and confrontational, a flat-earther. Even if you’re competing in a charity baking competition, of all things, it’s still reality television at the end of the day.

Just because the bunch of you are going to spend the next few days creating confections out of sugar, spice, and everything nice, doesn’t mean you have to be part of that ‘everything.’

Tim thinks he’s got this in the bag. Thinks he’s going to show up and win easily, the rest of you be damned, and even if you are typically a very nice person, you’re also highly competitive. There’ll be no rolling over done by you, and if Tim wants to play dirty—

Game on.

As you introduce yourself, you feel his eyes burning a hole in the side of your head. Probably because you don’t bother with the faux-humility the rest of the contestants have. Polite and charming but firm, just the way your mother had taught you. You’re not boisterous, don’t crack silly jokes to play up to the cameras the way Tim loves to do, and you know he’s scrutinizing you the way you’d done to him, trying to figure out your angle.

Well, joke’s on him—you don’t need one.

And you really, really hope it drives him crazy.

Except maybe the joke is on you, too, because you don’t account for Xu Minghao.

In true reality television fashion, the tent is boiling hot.

As if the universe itself had looked down on all of you and decided what you all needed was a heatwave uncharacteristic of this time of year, just to up the ante. Not even ten minutes in the tent and you’re all fanning yourselves and wafting air up your shirts. Which is great, really, because it isn’t like you need to use ovens or stand over hot burners. It’s not like you aren’t going to be soaking through your clothes with anxiety sweats, either! Sweat dripping off your brow into your eyes won’t matter because you don’t need to use them.

Everything’s going to be fine!

But everything is not fine. Not only has the universe gifted you with sweltering heat, it’s given you the work station directly next to Tim’s. You’ll have to feel his annoying, off-putting aura near you for the entire competition. There’s always the possibility of him bungling it and making an early exit, but you know that’s unlikely. Obnoxious he may be, you also know a strong opponent when you see one, and something tells you you’re going to be stuck with him for the long haul.

Think of the cats, you tell yourself. All of this is for the cats.

It’s not like you never would’ve returned here of your own volition. No, your first go-round with feel-good, competition-based reality television had gone fine. You hadn’t won, of course, because you wouldn’t be here again if you had, but you placed respectably in the top three. Became a fan favorite, too, which was arguably more lucrative than winning. People make a living on social media these days.

So, it’s not the competition itself that has you white-knuckled gripping onto the edge of your station. It’s the man at the one beside you, cracking all these stupid jokes about the weather and how it’s a horrible day for tempering chocolate, so he bets that’s going to be the first challenge!

You suck in a deep breath. Try to remember the breathing exercises from that one yoga class your sister had dragged you to. It had been about the same temperature then, too—well duh, it’s hot yoga, your sister had said, which was news to you, because you never would’ve signed up for something called hot yoga willingly. Still, you endured it, just like you’ll endure this, and a little sweat is not going to get in the way of you delivering a check to all those poor, sad cats without families.

“Psst, hey,” you hear from behind you. When you turn, a man is smirking at you as he finishes tying his apron around his waist—has to wrap the strings around twice, you notice, because only someone hand-picked by the gods themselves would have that shoulder-to-waist ratio.

You don’t really recognize him. Can’t recall his name or where he’s from; can’t remember what he mentioned doing for a living. Probably something artsy, if you had to guess—he definitely has the style and demeanor of a creative, with his trendy shag-mullet and the multicolored, glitter-y snowflakes decorating his nails.

You aren’t sure he introduced himself at all, but the confidence with which he holds himself—easy, like it’d take a national emergency to rattle him even a little—implies he doesn’t really have to. Most of the people here already know him, if you had to guess, and he gives the impression that he’s not fussed with impressing any of them.

If only Tim was so inclined.

You clear your throat, vaguely aware you need to respond. “Yeah?”

“Are you nervous?”

“Ah, I don’t think so? We’ve done this before, after all. We should be seasoned veterans by now.”

He smirks. “Should be,” he emphasizes. “Feels different when it’s for charity. Extra serious, you know?”

“Right,” you agree, taking a look around the tent. “Anything for the cats.”

There’s an immediate shift in the atmosphere. What was friendly and carefree is now tense; where a smile and a floral giggle sat on the man’s lips has been replaced with a crooked scowl. And it doesn’t make sense, all you’d done was agree with what he said, but then the producers are yelling something at the front of the tent, cameramen are rushing to their equipment, and a woman appears at your side and starts clipping equipment to your clothes, and there’s no time to question it. On your right, Tim’s laughing and joking around with some crew members like they’re old drinking buddies. It drives you nuts, has annoyance pricking at your skin, flushing your cheeks—

So much so that the woman at your side leans in and asks, “Should I get hair and makeup over here?”

“I—no, it’s fine.”

The unnecessary members of the production team scatter away after a loud countdown. Hair and makeup don’t come to wipe the sweat tracks from your skin. You already know Man Behind You is standing there looking perfect because he’s equally as attractive as he is mysterious. God truly has favorites, and this guy somehow made the top five.

You stare down at the instructions in front of you, confident in your ability to read but not so confident in your ability to make sense of any of it. And it’s your own recipe, which is the worst part. You’d typed this recipe yourself. These are your hand-written notes in the margins. You’ve conceptualized, tweaked, baked, and eaten this recipe more times than you can count, and now all you can do is thousand-yard-stare into the ether.

In the time since you were on the show, you’d somehow forgotten about the chaos. Not unlike that hormone women have that makes them forget about the pain and agony of childbirth, you reckon.

In addition to being one of the most bothersome people in history, Tim apparently doubles as a prophet.

Because it is a terrible day to temper chocolate, and you’ve got a bûche de Noël on the horizon that requires you to do so. You can pivot, maybe make some kind of buttercream, but a basic chocolate buttercream is not going to win you a world-renowned baking competition even if it is Swiss meringue. A child could make that.

You sigh. Push that wave of panic to the back of your mind. In a setting like this, you have approximately ten seconds to come up with a back-up plan and execute it and you wasted your time thinking, so you’re just going to have to temper the stupid chocolate and stick to your original plan. God, you have a headache.

But the show must go on, so you do too.

Step 1: Preheat the oven.

Easy enough. If nothing else, you can preheat an oven.

Step 2: Make the sponge.

Not as easy, but you’ve made so many sponge cakes throughout your life you could probably do it in your sleep. Whisk attachment on the stand mixer. Four eggs. Sugar meticulously weighed and added to the bowl. Sugar and eggs whisked together until the mixture is the color and consistency you’re looking for. Flour, cocoa powder, and salt sifted in. Metal spoon to fold it all together as delicately as possible. You won’t have a sponge cake if you beat all the air out of it, now will you?

“Good enough,” you mutter to yourself, staring down at the bowl.

At least you’d had the foresight to grease and line your baking tray, because the entire entourage arrives at your station just as you’re meant to be pouring the batter into it and sticking it in the oven.

“Ah, we meet again,” the group choruses, genuine smiles peeking through as if you’re old friends separated only by time and distance.

That’s the weird thing about being on television. For as long as you’re able, you exist within a microcosm of daily life. A world exists outside of your bubble, you know, but you don’t see much proof of it. All of your meals are eaten together; all of your conversations are had with one another. You share temporary living quarters and oftentimes too much of yourselves, and you’re thankful the show encourages teamwork and kindness because that’s the kind of thing that can grow sour if you leave it unchecked too long.

And then it just—ends.

Bubble burst, you all go back to your regular lives. You look back on that time fondly, but the friendships are thinned out by time and distance. Eventually it all starts to feel like a dream, except every now and then something breaks through the haze to remind you it actually happened: a stranger recognizing you at the store, a message on social media, the casting team contacting you to ask if you’d be interested in competing in a holiday special for charity.

“We certainly do,” you retort, smile matching everyone else’s.

All things considered, you are happy to be back. Even if the tent is crowded and far too warm, the atmosphere is unmatched, especially when it’s decorated for the holidays.

“What are you working on?”

You explain the general workings of your yule log: chocolate sponge, hazelnut liqueur cream filling, and chocolate icing to top it off. You aren’t sure how you’re going to decorate it yet—you’ll figure it out once you get there, depending on how much time you have—but you guarantee them it’ll look festive and professional.

Satisfied with your plan, they wish you luck and move on to the man behind you. It’s so great to see you again, Minghao, someone says, and you’re grateful they’ve spared you the embarrassment of having to ask for his name. It still doesn’t ring a bell, and you can’t recall what season he’d been on for the life of you, but he speaks with a patience and a gentleness that is so unlike Tim that you nearly drop to the floor in thanks.

But as the commotion of the tent reminds you, you don’t have time to waste thinking about Minghao. You’ve only been given an hour for your signature, and you’re going to need all sixty of those minutes if you have any hopes of presenting a finished product.

It doesn’t register at first.

It doesn’t register at second or third, either.

In fact, you’re sure you’re hallucinating when you open the oven door to pop the sponge inside and you aren’t hit with a blast of hot air. Room temperature. Perhaps a bit on the cooler side, if you’re being honest.

And that can’t be, because you know you preheat your oven. It was the first thing you did, because it’s always the first thing you do. It’s just… automatic, like opening your mouth to eat or washing between your toes in the shower. Instinctual. Not something that needs to even be considered, because it’s always the first thing you do.

No, this cannot be. Forgetting to preheat the oven is a rookie mistake and you’re not a rookie.

…Could it be?

Perhaps you were so caught up in the lights and buzz, the thrill of returning to the tent, that it had slipped your mind? Perhaps you’d pressed the wrong buttons and turned the wrong dials? While it’s not likely you’d somehow bumped into the oven and turned it off, nothing is impossible, so… maybe?

“Shit,” you hiss through your teeth. The producers are not going to be happy about your swearing. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“Everything okay up there?” Minghao asks from behind you. When you turn, he’s got a flour-dusted towel thrown over his shoulder as he nurses a cup of tea, and his composure in the face of your hysteria has your head spinning.

Your mouth opens and closes like a goldfish. Minghao is drinking tea without a care in the world and your oven isn’t even halfway to the temperature you need. “I—yes? No? I don’t know. I could’ve sworn I preheated the oven, but—”

“Don’t panic,” he offers, his top lip catching on the rim of his mug. “You got this. Work on something else while you wait.”

Something else. Right, you can work on something else. Both the filling and the frosting still have to be made, and quick mental math tells you there should just be enough time to get everything done if you’re efficient. Of course, that’s a big if, but that’s why you’d chosen a yule log, after all: sponge cake doesn’t need that long to bake, and anything can happen (and go wrong) in this tent.

So, you get to work on something else. Measure out a sheet of parchment paper, dust it with cocoa powder, and set it to the side. Decide to get to work on the frosting, because if one thing has already gone wrong, you don’t trust the universe to let you temper chocolate correctly.

The chocolate is halfway melted when the oven dings. A small harrumph of victory and you’re finally good to go, setting a timer for twelve minutes. Minghao offers you a discreet thumbs-up, fingers covered in something sticky you assume is marzipan.

Time flies after that. You get both the frosting and your filling made, and it’s only through divine intervention that your sponge cake comes out perfectly and with enough time to score and cool. When you dare a look around the room, everyone seems to be in a similar position as you: frazzled and covered in powdered sugar, making frantic trips to and from the refrigerators, chucking seized-up caramel into the trash and starting over for the third time with a pained expression.

A holiday special—it was supposed to be more laid-back, more for the vibes and festivity than actual competition, but it looks to you like everyone’s taking it just as seriously as your first go-rounds.

“Fifteen minutes!” someone calls, and your competitors fade out of focus. You’ve got a yule log to ice and fondant to roll out.

You make it by the skin of your teeth.

It isn’t perfect, of course, as few things on this show ever are, but it’s more than acceptable. It looks great and tastes even better which is all you can hope for. Much to your dismay, Tim also gets top marks, but it’s Minghao that shocks you all. His stollen wreath earns him a handshake and a lot of clandestine, private glares, but he’d been kind to you earlier, helped untangle that knot of pandemonium, so you return the thumbs-up he’d given you earlier with a smile that feels akin to getting away with murder.

Something is wrong.

On its own, this is not necessarily surprising. Gingerbread, tasked with bearing the weight of an entire house, can be fickle. On any other day you wouldn’t blame it if it wanted to rebel and go sideways, but the thing is—you’ve made gingerbread before. Tons of times. Another thing you could probably make in your sleep if you absolutely had to. So it doesn’t make sense when you look down in your mixing bowl and it just… doesn’t look right.

You tell yourself it’ll get better when you knead it. Maybe the color just looks off because it’s underworked, and a few good punches will set it straight.

But it doesn’t. The dough sits at your station like a sad, formless lump, giving you no indication it intends to become anything at all. Which is, admittedly, a problem. Your technical challenge is to build a gingerbread house—one complete with little windows and golden-toned nightlights, a scalloped roof dusted with powdered sugar to look like fresh snow, a working door!—and you’re far from an engineer, but you don’t think you can have a gingerbread house without gingerbread.

You sneak a peek at Tim’s station, where he’s well into measuring an immaculate-looking dough with a ruler. The contestant in front of you is in a similar place, too, so it’s with an oh fuck I’m doomed sigh that you turn around and hope to find a comrade in Minghao again.

“Hey,” you whisper, trying not to draw attention to yourself. “Does this look right to you?” You jerk a thumb in the direction of your dough-lump. Minghao, bless him, looks around you and tries his best to hide his grimace.

He does not succeed.

“Um. Well, no.”

You sigh. Place one flour-dusted hand on your waist and pinch the bridge of your nose with the other. “I can’t figure out what’s wrong with it. I’ve made gingerbread a million times.”

“Looks pale,” he offers. Of course, this is the exact moment he dumps his own dough—his beautiful dough, flawless chestnut brown—onto his station to knead it. “Was the sugar right?”

A strangled, disbelieving laugh escapes you. Was the sugar right—of course the sugar was right! Dark muscovado sugar. Everyone knows that's what you use for gingerbread, so of course the sugar was right because no one, both in their right mind and at this stage of competition, would use anything else.

Before you can respond, Minghao’s pointing at your jar of sugar. Your jar of pale, producer-supplied sugar, which even a blind person could tell does not resemble dark muscovado sugar.

A million thoughts race through your head at once, but it boils down to instinct, you think. Your brain had seen flour, butter, and sugar and went into baking mode, not stopping to take in the color of anything. Maybe a smarter, more perceptive person would put two and two together and get sabotage, but you don’t have enough time to play detective.

“Here, here,” Minghao says, hurriedly handing over his (correct) sugar. “It’ll be close, but you should have just enough time to redo the dough.”

You’re going to throw up.

In the end, a chunk of chocolate buttons is missing from the roof and the piping around the edges is far from your neatest work, but it’s passable. You already lamented your loss during the signature bake, because anything less than perfection was not going to win you much of anything, and you’re now 0-for-2 on showstopping, unbelievable, awe-inspiring confections.

Just like the devil, your fall from grace will be studied.

Overthinking isn’t going to get you anywhere, but you can’t help it.

You collapse sideways into a chair, immediately face-planting into the catering table. Everyone else buzzes around you—animated conversations that have your head spinning, words that jumble together and start to sound like nothing at all—but you’re a million miles away. One mistake is out of character for you, but two? It’s unheard of. Something you would’ve said was impossible if it didn’t happen to you just a few hours ago.

This is something you need to file away for later so you can think about it just as you’re about to fall asleep, horror and embarrassment there to keep you company when it keeps you awake until the wee hours of the morning.

A chill runs down your spine.

“Hi. Do you mind?” You startle. Bang your knee on the underside of the table. “Sorry,” Minghao apologizes, but he doesn’t look sorry at all. You shake your head. Gesture to the empty seat across from you as if to say it’s all yours. “I brought you some tea,” he continues, setting it in front of you. “I find it’s easier than coffee when you don’t know how someone takes theirs. Less chance of getting it wrong.”

You smile. Wrap your hands around the Styrofoam cup and delight in the warmth. “Thank you. This was very kind of you.”

“Seemed like you had a rough day.”

Groaning, you try to wave away his words. “Please don’t speak of it.” Minghao jokingly salutes you before miming his lips sealed. “Anyway. Let’s talk about something that is not reality television or baking or a reality baking competition.”

So, you do. Most of the talking comes from you, to be fair, but Minghao is a good listener: nods along, chimes in when appropriate, keeps the spit in his mouth where it belongs. You talk about your hometown and what made you apply for the show the first time. He tells you about growing up in Haicheng and all the things he grew up baking with his mother. You swap stories from your respective seasons; Minghao shares anecdotes with a straight face that have you clutching at your stomach.

Hours pass this way, and you end the night feeling like you’ve made an honest-to-god friend.

Xu Minghao ends the night feeling the guilt weigh him down like an albatross.

In retrospect, it is probably a bad idea to make another sponge, but no one can accuse you of learning from your mistakes.

“It’ll be a patterned joconde sponge with two mousse layers—chocolate and raspberry—and a raspberry jelly. Then I’m going to attempt to top it with chocolate and raspberry decorations.” The judges blink. Are you sure that’s a good idea? you know they want to ask, but this is a holiday competition for charity, so they’re trying not to be pessimists. “Anything is possible through holiday cheer,” you tack on, hoping your smile doesn’t look crazed.

They nod. “Right, right,” they say in unison. “Well, good luck!”

And then they’re off.

Determined to nail this, you triple-check your oven, which is preheating to a crisp 400 degrees; you double-check all your ingredients and confirm they’re correct; when you can spare the time, you watch your refrigerator like a hawk, making sure no one tries to sneak their own work in there and displace yours when you aren’t looking, but everyone’s engrossed in their respective showstoppers.

Tim’s planning a shadow box of sorts, with blown-sugar baubles and isomalt fire. Someone else is stressing over their three-tiered cake, asking the presenter if they think they’ve taken on too much. From what you can piece together, Minghao is making a three-dimensional house, also made from cake that he imported special pistachios for.

“Special pistachios?”

“Mm, from Iran. They have a better color.”

“Iranian pistachios! Can you believe it!”

But you don’t have time to worry about Minghao and his special Iranian pistachios. You have so much to do and not enough time to complete it. Your paste is in the freezer and the sponge is in the oven, but you’ve still got two mousses to make, a jelly to infuse, and little chocolate trees to create—and all of this wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t pointless, but you don’t want to disappoint the cats by half-assing it. They deserve your whole ass, and your whole ass is what they’re going to get.

The result is stunning—not necessarily in stature, but rather craftsmanship and effort. This is what you’re capable of. This is why you came back to the tent. For all your complaining and wanting to put your head through a concrete wall, there’s nothing like seeing the judges ooh and ahh when you present your work to them. There’s nothing like the ego boost of someone taking a bite and watching their eyes light up. There’s nothing like carrying your cake back to your station feeling proud of yourself.

“Great job,” Minghao says, a genuine smile stretched across his face. He also exceeds expectations, of course. Must be those special pistachios, you think, but your congratulations are also sincere.

Production makes a spectacle of judging, much like they always do.

The set is decorated to look like a winter wonderland, even though you’re still in the midst of autumn: a giant Christmas tree in the center decked to the nines with garland and baubles; warm, golden bulbs strung from every awning they could find; all the participants bundled up tight in festive sweaters and scarves all the way to your chins, cheeks and tips of noses dusted with red-pink blush to mimic the cold that’s nowhere to be found. Fake snow falls from the sky, and it doesn’t feel real, but it does feel magical.

One of the hosts catches you by the elbow, asks who you think is going to win. “Oh, I’d have to say Minghao,” you answer, because you’d rather die than give Tim the satisfaction. “His showstopper was incredible, but he was really great the whole competition.”

In the end, however, neither of them wins—it’s Jeon Wonwoo, three-tiered cake guy, who comes out of nowhere to claim first place. He’s bashful as he accepts his prize and says he’s going to donate the prize money to an organization that provides underprivileged kids with video game equipment. No one has a whole lot to say about that.

Once most of the hubbub dies down (and you give Tim a half-assed you did great, so sorry you didn’t win), you find Minghao near the refreshments table. He’s frowning around another mug of tea. “Alright?” you ask, helping yourself to some cider.

“For some reason, I’m no longer feeling very festive,” he replies, which is a very funny thing to say while wearing a hat with a little pom-pom on the top.

You roll your lips to keep from laughing. Sidle in a little closer and knock his shoulder with your own. “Ah, I know how you feel, but you really did do great. You were my pick to win, for what it’s worth.”

“Please don’t tell me that. It only makes me feel worse for losing.”

“Yeah.” You sigh. “Would’ve been nice to donate some money to the cats, but shit, if I didn’t know better, I would’ve sworn some dark force was sabotaging me. Like, come on—forgetting to preheat the oven? Using the wrong sugar? Not even a kid would’ve made those mistakes.”

Two things happen in rapid succession: beside you, Minghao goes very, very stiff, and you realize you had been sabotaged. And not by some dark, evil force, either. You were sabotaged by the very man standing beside you—the man you shared thumbs-up with and thought was your friend. The man whose cake you complimented and picked to win. The man who is now standing ramrod straight, as tense as a corpse, and the thought of sabotaging someone in a charity baking competition is so ridiculous and unbelievable that you just—

You just laugh.

At first, it’s a bark of stunned laughter. Then, the more it sinks in how absurd, how nonsensical all of this is, you can’t stop. Tears are rolling down your cheeks. You gasp for breath as your stomach begins to ache. People are staring, including Minghao, who sort of can’t believe what he’s seeing, but none of it does anything to deter you.

“Oh my god,” you wheeze, “I can’t believe it was you—”

Minghao groans. “In my defense, it was for the cats!”

This was not the answer you were expecting. It makes you laugh harder. “What do you mean it was for the cats?”

He swallows. Removes the mitten from one hand to run it through his hair as if that one tic was enough to distract you from everything that’s happened in the last sixty seconds. (It is.) “Listen, you told me you were going to donate the money to a cat charity if you won and I just—so was I, was the thing. I was also going to donate the money to a cat charity if I won—”

“Okay, but which one, though?”

“The Cat’s Paw-jamas.” Much to Minghao’s horror, this sets you off again. “What? What’s so funny?”

“Minghao,” you try to choke out, but you can barely breathe around the cramp in your stomach. “Minghao, that’s the charity I was going to donate to. Oh my god, you sabotaged me and I was going to donate to—to the same fucking place. Jesus Christ, this is some Gift of the Magi shit.”

Your saboteur, who has gone deathly pale, is quiet for a very long time. Every now and then he’ll open his mouth like he’s going to say something before it snaps shut again. When he does manage to speak, what comes out are mangled apologies that sound like gibberish, and you wave all of them away. “It’s water under the bridge.”

“I—I really don’t think it should be?”

“Minghao, it’s fine, trust me, this was just for fun—”

“No, I really insist.”

You sigh, good-natured and exasperated. Something about the fake snow has you feeling romantic and a little bold, so you turn, grab him by the lapels of his coat. “Please tell me if I’m misreading this, but if you insist, maybe you can start by taking me to dinner…?”

This was clearly not what MInghao was expecting you to say. Dazed, he recovers quickly, the corners of his mouth tugging upward in a half-smirk. “Dinner, hm?” You nod. “I think I can manage that.”

You smile. “Great. How do you feel about cat cafes?”

[milkshakesmoothiee]

Hi!!!! Pretty pretty please, could you write a ranpo x reader where reader usually takes care of him because they have a soft spot for him, but ranpo takes them for granted somehow, and they get frustruated and angry. Maybe a little angsty and fluff as well. Im so happy to discover your blog, i really like the way you write for bsd! Sorry for my english, i’m not a native

❝𝐖𝐚𝐢𝐭, 𝐈 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲!?❞

︵‿︵‿୨🍪୧‿︵‿︵

𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: 𝐁𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐨 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐃𝐨𝐠𝐬

𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫: 𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐩𝐨 𝐄𝐝𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭: 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐩𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝.. 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐥𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦 ... 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 // 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭

【ＳＦＷ】

GENDER NEUTRAL BUT AFAB READER sorry :')

REQUESTS ARE OPEN ! Check my request page for info !

︵‿︵‿୨🍪୧‿︵‿︵

It's easy to say that Ranpo doesn't exactly have manners, and is easily persuaded by his own thoughts and often doesn't think before he speaks when he isn't on the job.

Often, he'll make people feel very dumb. That doesn't change for people he's close with, cough. You.

It's been a good few months since you had joined the Agency, being assigned as Ranpo's lucky assistant. Actually, no, now that you remember it more clearly, you were never assigned this role... It just so happened that during you're early days when you were still a lost noobie, Ranpo.. 'found' you, but not exactly in a positive or negative way.

When it was only you and Ranpo in the building, when everyone had gone to do their own thing, he was whining about being so hungry he'd die! Talk about childish.. and yet, after a while it grew on you.

You offered to go to the nearest convenient store and see if you could find anything, which you did, and after that Ranpo would use your more and more often to retrieve stuff for him, that the title 'Ranpo's lucky assistant' grew on you.

Ranpo didn't seem to care, actually, eventually he'd start to have you help him with cases... And by 'help' it just means you'd buy his train tickets. Basically you were treated like a guinea pig in some ways, even having to give the man piggy back rides when he felt tired.

╰┈➤ ❝Would you call this luck?❞

Actually, it isn't all that bad. Ranpo would always look so happy whenever you walked in the room. Word has it, whenever you weren't around, his head would perk up like a dog on alert at the sound of your name being spoken and he'd always feel so gloomy saying, 'man, I wish (Y/N) was here.' Although, that's probably just Yosano trying to mess with you.

Not to mention he'd always love to eat with you, seeming so glad as he'd get into your space and ask that you 'so kindly feed him like a good assistant' ignoring all the stacks of papers you have to finish.

Some part of you wants to say that he just has a sweet yet naive heart when he's not actually using his brain... And yet...

︵‿︵‿୨🍪୧‿︵‿︵

"pfft, don't be stupid. I don't need your little gift," he spoke while pushing your hand away.

For the past few days, you had found yourself growing a different perspective around him.. did you truly like this guy?

Earlier that day, as had been you passing through many stores, there was something in particular that caught your attention. You were a firm believer in luck and gratitude, always wanted it for yourself and others. When you saw basically some five dollar bracelets, there was one in particular that caught your attention.

A small bracelet, a very colorful one, that had little snack charms. It was pretty. It reminded you a lot of Ranpo.

"you don't need to wear it, I was just hoping-"

"you were hoping to give me a little good luck charm." He'd speak up over you with a tone voice that didn't seem completely annoyed but more like he was mocking you. He'd continue to place another chip into his mouth before continuing, "I don't need it. I'm the world's greatest detective after all."

"..i see." You spoke with a feeling of disappointment. "I'll just throw it away then."

Ranpo didn't seem to bat an eye about it as soon as you had left his line of sight that following day.

︵‿︵‿୨🍪୧‿︵‿︵

A few days followed and you didn't exactly forget that little item, actually it's disappointing you chose to throw away such a pretty gadget. Slowly the sun hit the inside of your room and you felt this pinging in your head. A strong annoyance, a headache.

Some part of you felt like this headache had to do with how you've been seeing Ranpo lately. One question that's been stuck in your mind, do you seriously regret meeting him? No, that'd be too much to say... But he can be annoying to deal with.

There were even moments where you'd have to step in because he pissed off the wrong person, stopping people from getting their fist in his face... It was always you taking a few verbal hits for him, huh? And he never seemed to mind, always doing it again and again no matter how much you've told him it's wrong.

Maybe you're wrong about your friendship with him.

︵‿︵‿୨🍪୧‿︵‿︵

"yo, I'm here." You spoke up while entering the Agency, that strong pinging in your head again. You looked around only to see Ranpo. "Where is everybody?"

"Dazai is skipping, Yosano is in her infirmary, and the rest of them are all on their own errands and cases." Ranpo spoke as he played on his little game console. He perked up at you with a smug grin, "Soo, let me guess. Today's snacks are.."

"actually I don't have anything."

"HUH? WHY?" He immediately jumped in his seat staring at you almost distressed. "I'll die without food y'know!"

"..if you're so hungry then go get yourself something."

"Nonsense!" He laughed out, mocking you in a way. "Last I recall your my lucky assistant, and you promised to get me food every morning."

"I didn't promise you anything, Edogawa."

Ranpo had noticed a sharp tone in your voice, you seemed oddly annoyed, which was different. He then grinned towards you, "Oh I see! Is this about your little gift to-"

".. you're such a pain, Edogawa!" You spoke up which made the man flinch. You definitely noticed that, you've caught him off guard. "Not once have you ever gratitude for what I've done? I know it's not much and maybe I'm being dramatic.. but it'd be nice to get a thank you every and now then? All it feels like is that you look down on me."

"..I'm sorry."

That's all he said which didn't make you an happier. Thats all he can say? Is he serious?

"I'm leaving. I have a bad headache and I don't want to deal with this, let Kunikida know I'm off." You turned on your heels to leave.

"Wait hold up-!" Ranpo immediately followed and grabbed your shoulder. "I said I was sorry!" After he didn't heard you respond and just ignore him, yet waited in your steps to hear if he had anything else to say, he pulled out the bracelet from his pocket. "..the reason I said I didn't need your good luck charm, was because my lucky assistant is what brings me luck."

"..."

"..and thanks."

[dollmaidcrystal]

During a period when Mistress was too focused on work to play with her submissives, I became too tight for her to comfortably fit two fingers into. As punishment, I've been assigned to train on the Motorbunny Buck, Mistress's fucking machine of choice, daily for a month.

Day 1: Is this supposed to be a punishment? This doesn't seem like a punishment at all.

Day 2: I'm already tired of having to run an extra load on the dishwasher every day, since it has the all-important "Sanitize" cycle for cleaning up the Motorbunny attachments.

Day 3: Daily training is starting to pay off. That last session felt good. Really good.

Day 4: Riding the fucking machine is not the punishment, it's having to clean up afterwards every day. I asked Mistress if I could have permission to move the Motorbunny to next to the guest showers. (She said no.)

Day 5: Barely avoided disaster today. I forgot to lock up the door to the dungeon when the municipal water inspector came by to look around the basement. Fortunately, I spotted my mistake while he was still taking his boots off upstairs.

Day 6: Skip day. Mistress was home from work, and she called "dibs".

Day 7: Experimented more with the higher vibration settings today and probably overdid it. I’m going to have to take it easy for the next few days while my poor sissy booty heals.

Day 8: Switched from the spiral dildo to the precision probe. Today's training consists of trying to find exactly where all of my spots are.

Day 9: Skip day. I had a doctor's appointment. Real life takes priority!

Day 10: To make up for skipping a day, I switched to the larger Doc Johnson attachment. It was too large to ride, so I had to use the vertical wedge stand to be taken from behind. Taking something that large felt sooo good.

Day 11: Oh crap. While moving the Motorbunny back upright, I heard a crack. The plastic casing of the adapter plug cracked in half. I jury rigged back together (with some scary sparks!), but that is going to be a problem.

Day 12: A warranty replacement for the adapter is already on its way. I am more impressed by the customer service than how good I felt after today's session.

Day 13: Skip day. Mistress came home from work early because she was feeling sick. My time was spent taking care of her and lecturing her about the importance of diet and daily exercise. Writing this down in my punishment journal, I'm glad she was too sick to notice the irony.

Day 14: After some experimentation, the Motorbunny hits my spots best if I’m leaning all the way forward or arching backwards. I'm pretty sure I should stick to arching back in photosets.

Day 15: Mistress is still sick, which makes these daily training sessions extra hard. When she's healthy, I know that riding the fucking machine is a warmup for being played with later, but now I know it's going to leave me extra frustrated for the rest of the day.

Day 16: I’m starting to crave something in my mouth during these daily rides. I’m not sure how to deal with that. Maybe I should bring a box of Triscuits to the dungeon tomorrow? Will that work?

Day 17: Bringing a ball gag down to the dungeon definitely helps with my oral cravings, but I feel kind of silly doing it. It doesn’t help that 🐶 is staring at me like he’s judging my technique at chewing a ball. "Bloody amateur can't even keep in in her mouth without a safety strap."

Day 18: Mistress had some time to personally supervise my training today. The splash image on this post comes from this session.

Day 19: The warranty replacement adapter just arrived! I think I'll leave the broken one in place and keep the new one as a backup. I said it once, and I'll say it again: I am seriously impressed by the level of customer service Motorbunny has.

Day 20: Pondering upgrades to the Motorbunny using the Bondage Erector Set. Reflective Desires has so many ideas that I want to steal.

Day 21: The cursed LureVibe fucking bear is now making the rounds. I wonder if I should upgrade from Motorbunny to Motorbear. https://lurevibe.com/products/doll-automatic-thrusting-vibrating-swing-machine-female-masturbation-device

Day 22: Mistress is upset that most of the pictures she took makes me look hunchbacked. I need to find a way to ride the Motorbunny that's more photogenic, apparently.

Day 23: Gross! I accidentally put another layer of condom and lube on the attachment and didn’t peel it off before washing. Now I have a layer of cooked on dry lube to scrub off my dildo.

Day 24: I can't figure out how to advance my training. Mistress wants me to train to be penetrated at a wider variety of angles (instead of the one that feels really, really good but looks awful on camera). What even is the best to train for that? Wiggle around on the dildo every day?

Day 25: Following a friend’s advice, I’m trying yoga on the Motorbunny to improve my range of positions. This is a weird experience, and not just because of how hard it is to hold a stretch while being fucked.

Day 26: Skip day. After Pride Weekend, I can't move.

Day 27: Flexibility training continues. I’ve learned I’m not going to be able to move which spots feel good, but I can move the rest of my body. Biggest bang for my buck seems to be in getting more dramatic back arches, followed by working on my range of leg motion.

Day 28: Taking a break from trying to improve my form. Instead, I'm putting in the thickest attachment I can handle and enjoying the ride.

Day 29: I'm putting off today's training to edit and post this punishment journal. I'm hitting post now so I can get back to training.

[inkofamethyst]

May 7, 2025

Okay, so, yes, I passed. Relieved, exhausted.

I didn't get much sleep the night before. Stayed up late to finalize the presentation plus lots of anxious energy. Wore my navy suit for the first time since I'd been here (and I looked amazing). Got to the room early, got set up, two of the three examiners were on Zoom lol. They asked me to leave before I started my actual defense, and I just texted my turquoise-friend for like five minutes. They invited me back in and were like "so yea you passed but we still do want to hear you talk through the comments" which is crazy and I don't know if I processed it at that moment (I probably did, I think I relaxed a tiny bit), but then I went into the presentation and it was good. Good conversation, I think I managed to articulate myself alright and generally held my own. It felt a lot less stressful than the practice I'd done several days before with just graduate students, actually. Maybe because I was more prepared. We went about fifteen minutes over time, but I got through everything and then passed!

My plan was to go back to my apartment for a quick nap before heading off to my computational biology class, but my postdoc texted me like "hey can you come to the office rq so we can chat about a lab thing" and then I get to the office and she'd thrown a little celebration with our "subgroup" plus my island-friend :D It was soooooo sweet and honestly was a wonder that I didn't cry. There was the cutest cake (tbh the best chocolate cake I'd ever had in my life and that's high praise bc I typically don't even like chocolate cake) and pastries and we just hung out while I decompressed for an hour and a half or so. So, so, so, so incredibly thankful for that gathering, actually.

Went to class and was literally nodding off constantly during lecture which I felt awful about because we had a guest speaker and he seemed so sweet but I just physically could not keep my eyes open. Decided not to go to recitation for the first time this semester. Turns out the TA wasn't able to make it anyway, and I wouldn't have found out until much much later, so I am supremely glad I didn't force myself to stay for hours for no reason (even though I know that all was just luck). Plus we learned of a two-day extension for our problem sets in that class. Score!

I was far too tired to go to the guitar shop that day, so I napped for three hours then randomly started watching AP Bio (which is hilarious) then slept for another several hours.

I went to the guitar shop the next day, bought some picks (I think I'll mostly be doing fingerstyle, but a lot of punk rock/pop punk is picked, I think) and a strap (it's got roses on it!! not sure if I'll need to get a pad for the shoulder though), but they didn't have the exact book I was looking for. There are a few other places I'll check for it (there's a yarn shop near one of them where I may check for some cotton fingering), but I may have to settle for a different option. We'll see, we'll see.

Hung out with my island-friend a lot that following day. She's going through a rough patch socially. I think this program has generally been a rough patch socially for her. She said she thought I was very stable. I think my turquoise-friend thinks much the same. I don't feel particularly stable. I think I carry a lot of nervous energy and that I tend toward insecurity, though I also think knowing that tendency helps me avoid the dark patterns that can lead to spiraling, at least, for the most part. I like to think that writing as an outlet helps. There are triggers that I'm less prepared for though, I think. I'd like to operationalize(?) them.

Admittedly, I've been taking it a little easy these past few days, considering that I have two assignments due Sunday and another due Monday, plus social events toward the end of the week and into the weekend, but ehhhhh. They'll get done.

Today I'm thankful that they're not kicking me out of the program!

Postscript: I just watched this video of this lady who literally spent probably 100 hours total weaving her own fabric to use for a cosplay, and it was probably the most I've ever seen any fiber artist be dedicated to their final product. I've seen historical costumers using period sewing techniques, cosplayers gather together to order specific tartans in bulk for accuracy, insane beadwork and embroidery, but this woman's craft has me awestruck. The result was beautiful, the process intensive. Beyond just weaving: sourcing the threads, learning the terminology, learning the mechanics, dyeing the threads, physically weaving... I grew exhausted just watching it. I've considered learning to weave on smaller looms (because of course I have), but I can't say I'm drawn to that particular craft at such a large scale. But uh, now that I know it's an option...

Post postscript: I hadn't listened through Monaco 2 because I wasn't super impressed by Eternal Strands, but Cocktail Party came on as a recommended song after my thousandth or so playthrough of Towerborne, and it SLAPPED like immediately. And the fact that it was Austin that made me sit up and pay attention like that?? aaaahhh. That man. His mind. Anyway, will have to listen through Monaco 2 I guess. Also? The bass in that song? That one should be fun to transcribe :)

[chuusheartattck]

HAUNTED

Chapter 1: Ghost child

Class had finally just been excused for you and Scara. You were half expecting him to ditch you but he surprisingly waited for you to get done packing.

“Fuck you take forever,” He groaned while stretching out his arms.

Today’s lecture seemed to drag on forever.

You quickly finished packing your belongings and the two of you started heading over to the culinary building. You had promised Xiangling to show her the library. Luckily her class ended the same time as yours.

You hadn’t become familiar with the campus yourself but it was fairly easy to spot her in the crowd. Her petite figure and the amount of keychains on her bag wasn’t hard to miss.

The three of you started walking to the library. Xiangling was going off about how her class went meanwhile you and Scara were just listening.

She can yap forever.

Despite arriving two hours early, the three of you decided to kill time inside and work on any assignments.

It seems like you weren’t the only ones who had that idea since you spotted Cyno, Aether, and Xiao at a table together.

“You guys just got out?” Aether asked while dapping you up.

“Mhm. It was only for two hours,” You replied back, taking a seat next to him.

Scara sat down next to Xiao who was across from you, “That’s because psychology isn’t a major that needs to take forever.”

“Aren’t you in the same class?” Xiangling questioned, sitting down next to you.

“Yeah but I can acknowledge it’s not the most hardest major out there. I only took it because my mom wanted me to do business,” Scara replied, “She wants me to take over her cafe one day.”

“Dude your mom is hot,” Cyno had to mention.

Scara was speechless and could only give him a disgusted look.

“What’s with that face?” Cyno asked, “I’m not the only one who thinks so, right guys?” He looked around at everyone. They all silently nodded but avoided eye contact with Scara.

Scara scowled, “You guys are all disgusting. She has a wife-“

“Who is also very hot,” Cyno interrupted, “Right guys?”

Once again, everyone silently nodded while not glancing at Scara’s direction.

You could feel the glare coming from his face. One day his face is going to get stuck from all the dirty looks and side eyes he gives to people.

His mom Ei and her wife Yae were always friendly to everyone. Ei runs a cafe while Yae runs a bookstore in attachment. Think of it as a small business version of Barnes and Nobles, just less overwhelming.

.

It was already 4:15 when Heizou showed up.

“Glad I’m not the last one,” He said while sitting next to Xiangling.

“Hu Tao doesn’t get out until 4:30. Ironic she’s the last one but planned this whole thing,” Xiao answered.

Scara stretched out his arms and yawned, “This seems like a waste of time. There’s probably nothing out there.”

“You never know, I mean there has to be some sort of truth to this place,” Aether replied in a hush tone, “I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s dead bodies under here.”

“Now you’re just being dramatic and exaggerating,” Heizou rolled his eyes.

“I have no idea why you tagged along. You get scared every time we watch a horror movie,” You started teasing, “Last time you flinched so hard you almost spilled your popcorn.”

“Did not.”

“Did too-“

You got interrupted by an all too familiar voice, “Hey guys! Sorry to keep you waiting!”

You all looked up to see Hu Tao walking over. Her eyes were filled with excitement and a giant smile was plastered on her face. She seemed way too happy.

“You won’t believe what just happened! I was using the bathroom and as I was washing my hands, I looked up at the mirror. Some pale little girl was standing behind me. I turned around but she wasn’t there!” Hu Tao practically shouted, “She almost looked like a zombie.”

Scara was holding back his laughter, “What did you smoke today?”

“Nothing! I promise it just happened,” Hu Tao huffed, crossing her arms.

You took out your phone and showed her a picture of the Qiqi girl Charlotte had told you about, “Did she look like this?”

“Yes! How did you get that picture?”

“That Charlotte person was texting me about this ghost child named Qiqi. Apparently she died during the construction of the school and likes to lurk around the students. She’s harmless. Allegedly.”

“She’s cute and all but can we get going?” Cyno asked, “I want to do this before it gets dark out. I’m not trying to see her.”

“I’m going to summon her and make sure she haunts you forever,” Heizou taunted.

All of you walked out of the library and towards the direction Xiao was leading you guys in. The campus was breathtaking beautiful and luxurious. However, it still had a creepy vibe to it but you weren’t sure as to why. Perhaps you’ve been thinking too much about the spirits here.

Xiao had led you guys to a fenced off area that was covered in heavy greenery.

“Do we have to climb that?” Aether questioned, studying the fence.

Before Xiao could even answer, Xiangling had already climbed the fence and made it to the other side.

“There was already a hole in the fence that you could’ve gone through but that works too,” Xiao pointed towards the opening right next to her.

“Oh..” Xiangling could only say quietly.

The rest of you walked through the opening and saw a giant cement tunnel. It was pitch black inside and looked abandoned. It was quite ominous looking which made everyone nervous, some more than others.

Your biggest fear was some tweaker living inside as opposed to an entity. You didn’t come prepared with anything to defend yourself.

“I’m not going in there,” Scara was the first to speak, “It looks dirty and someone could be living in there.”

He was on the same page as you.

“Too bad you already agreed!” Hu Tao chirped, already stepping close.

She turned on her phone flashlight and peered around the entrance. There were a few graffiti marks but no needles or drugs on the ground.

The rest of you cautiously stepped inside, making sure to turn on your phone flashlights as well. The tunnel had no distinct smell but it appeared to be cold and wet.

“If I get some sort of tunnel liquid on me I’m booking it,” Cyno muttered as he looked around.

“You’ll be fine!” Hu Tao replied, “It’s only a small tunnel. Look we’re already at the other side!” She pointed towards the clearing at the end.

Just like Xiao said yesterday, it led to the forest surrounding the school.

You didn’t feel much relief since the forest was a lot more creepier than the tunnel. It was secluded from the school and the tree lining was dense.

Could people hear you scream from out here?

As you walked deeper into the forest, the air grew colder and the trees grew thicker. The path you guys were following seemed to become narrow and overgrown. You weren’t sure if you were freaking yourself out but it felt like you were being watched. Not even in a paranoid way but in the way where someone’s eyes are burning in the back of your head.

There was an eerie silence in the air but it was broken by an occasional rustling of leaves. Something felt off but you chalked it up to your imagination and anxiety.

It was until Xiangling said something that basically confirmed your fear, “Hey why is it quiet all of a sudden? I know we’re in the forest but I haven’t heard any animals in a while. Usually there’s birds or a squirrel.”

“Now that you’ve mentioned it, it is a bit strange. If there’s no animals making sounds then it means there’s a predator they’re hiding from,” Heizou whispered, “But we’re not that threatening are we?”

“Of course not. We have a blonde twink with us,” Scara scoffed, “If anything it’s probably a bear that’s scaring them. Which isn’t so great for us.”

“I’m going to ignore the first part,” Aether said, “If there’s a bear then shouldn’t we get out of here?”

“Except there’s no bears in this part of Teyvat,” Xiao butted in.

Everyone became silent after that. Another eerie tension settled in, causing your heart rate to increase. You knew something was wrong but you were ignoring your gut instinct.

You didn’t know what was out there with you guys but you didn’t want to draw attention to it.

“Let’s wrap this up quickly then yeah? I’ve seen too many horror movies to know that we shouldn’t stay out here much longer,” You suggested. The nervousness in your voice didn’t go unnoticed by the group.

Everyone agreed with you. It was best to be safe than sorry. Hu Tao tried protesting, but gave in.

Walking back, a large rock got thrown in front of you guys. Almost as if something was trying to stop you from continuing.

Heizou picked it up to examine, “An animal was probably messing with it.”

Alarm bells were going off in your head.

Snap.

Everyone turned their heads to the direction where the sound came from. You felt like your heart was going to fall through your ass.

A sense of dread washed over the group.

“Fuck this shit I’m out of here,” Cyno walked in front of everyone, “I’m not going to die out here.”

“It was definitely a squirrel,” Scara tried rationalizing, “You’re acting like a pussy.”

Even if it was nothing, everyone tried speed walking back. You weren’t about to take any chance.

As all of you were about to reach the tunnel, a low but slow, guttural growl could be heard from the shadows. The sound shook the trees close to you guys.

The group froze and looked around. Nobody wanted to say anything but you all heard it.

It was right next to you guys. You weren’t sure whether to scream or cry. Your hearts were pounding in your chests.

You tried thinking that it could be a group of students pulling a prank.

Knock.

Everyone’s flight or fight kicked in. Without a second thought, you all bolted towards campus, not sparing a glance to whatever was behind you. You swear you heard stomping echoing around you, but it must’ve been your running.

Right?

You weren’t sure if the thing was chasing you guys but you didn’t want to find out. The adrenaline rush made you run the fastest you had ever ran. You didn’t even try this hard in pe during school.

You didn’t stop until you reached campus and far away from the forest. The adrenaline wore off and everyone was drenched in sweat gasping for air.

“Never…again…,” Cyno managed to say in between pants.

“What the hell was that?!” Xiangling was on the brink of tears.

“That had got to be an animal,” Heizou replied, “I think.”

“Bullshit! What kind of animal makes that sound?” Aether interrupted, “Let alone cause the trees to move.”

You looked in the direction where you guys came from and didn’t see anyone following you guys out.

You chimed in, “I don’t know about you guys but it felt like I was being watched the entire time. Not even being paranoid. It genuinely felt like someone was staring at me.”

“You felt it too?” Xiao looked at you, “The whole time I thought I was just being crazy.”

“Scara now you have to admit there was something out there,” Hu Tao pipes up.

Scara only shook his head, “I don’t think it was anything supernatural. It was probably frat bros trying to scare us. It looked like it worked.”

“Acting like you weren’t scared,” She muttered.

“I don’t remember asking you,” He argued back.

“See if you remember when I stick my foot up your—“

“That’s enough from you,” Aether covered Hu Tao’s mouth before she could finish her sentence, “Let’s just head back to our rooms and worry about this in the morning. It’s pretty late already.”

Everyone silently nodded and headed back.

By the time you got back to your room, Lumine was already sleeping. You got unready and changed into your pajamas.

You were scared to sleep in the bed by yourself so you climbed into bed with her. To be fair, the bed was a bit small for the both of you but you didn’t care.

You found it hard to shake off the fear that gripped you. You laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, the events replaying in your mind. Every creak, every rustle of the wind outside your window made your heart race.

You tried convincing yourself it wasn’t anything crazy. The memory of the trees shaking and the stomping echoing wouldn’t leave your head. You tried pulling up the covers to your chin, trying to find comfort in the familiar surroundings of the room. However, the darkness felt thicker than usual.

You tried closing your eyes but every time you drifted off to sleep, you would hear that low growl echoing in your ears, jolting you awake.

Or it could’ve been Lumine’s heavy snoring.

Either way, you tried convincing yourself it was a bad dream. Deep down you knew it was more than that. You wouldn’t go there ever again.

For a while at least.

Masterlist II Previous II Next

A/N: Chapter 1!! Tbh i feel like this chapter wasn’t that good but i promise the lore and actual creepy stuff happens soon 😓😓 I just need to get comfortable with writing horror

Synopsis: Friends start their first year at Teyvat University. The school that is known for its paranormal activity. The group doesn’t truly believe the rumors until they start to experience how frightening the school can be. What happens when the friend group investigates the truth of the hauntings?

Taglist: @morgyyyyyyy @state-of-grac3 @trulyylee @jellichuu @practicoi @yuminako @eyshamuun @kuniz-darlingg @heartsforni-ki @lalalaloveallmydays @animeobsessed56 @samyayaya @lloovvv @adepticiaoo @cherrysnows @miisamores @strayharmony943 @xionri @kazumiku @bethleeham @sukisprettyface @jayzioxx @kaikaidenkai @js-a-silly-little-guy @jiminscarmex

[spider-man-199999]

No need to hide it

gif by @userjoel

pairing: college!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader; Post nwh; not too canon

word count: 6K

warnings: underage drinking for USA citizens; mentions of sex

summary: Peter thought no one remembered him after the spell, however you did, but not for the reasons he was afraid you would. Mostly fluff and slow burn romance.

a/n: I'm a sucker for college!Peter, I literally cannot think about anything else. ANY SCIENCE TALK IS A BUNCH OF BS I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT CHEMISTRY OR SCIENCE.

part2

"Hey, catch!" you heard a male voice from somewhere behind you, making you turn towards the sound. A brown leather football flew throgh the air, landing in your feet. You picked it up, throwing it back to the shirtless man that was jogging in your direction.

"Thanks!!" He said after he caught it, running off back to whoever the other shirtless dude he was playing with was.

"Yeah no problem..." you muttered under your breath, trying to hide how flustered you were.

It was orientation week at Empire State University.

The weather, apparently, was still warm enough to have people running shirtless around campus, and being the shy, awkward geek you were, it was hard not to get embarrassed by any social interaction, let alone one that included both sport and a half-naked man. Overall, orientation week was going well. You checked out a few classes that sparked some interest, went to the library, the gym, even got completely settled in your dorm room. Things were going smoothly, excluding the fact you hadn't really met anyone new. Most of the people in your classes seemed like they already knew at least one person and stuck to them. Since you were not really the type to go out of your way and approach people, it left you walking around campus alone, sitting in class alone and even eating alone. It wasn't all that bad, just lonely. Your roommate hadn't arrived on campus yet either, so everything felt especially odd to you, like you were invisible to everyone. 

Four days in and the long walks between buildings were already annoying. It was so easy to get lost or distracted on the way between buildings. You didn't know the shortcuts yet, so it was always a hazard whether you would make it to class on time. Miraculously you got there early, and gave yourself a mental praise for that. You didn't expect to actually be in a lab on the first day of class, and were glad you got there on time because there were barely enough lab coats for everyone in the room. You really didn't want to be the freak who wasn't wearing one. You scanned the room as you sat down on one of the desks, secretly praying that this class wouldn't require having a lab partner or work in groups because it was going to make you feel even worse. And as you were stalking the people around you, your eyes landed on someone who looked suspiciously familiar. He wasn't terribly tall, curly brown hair, one backpack over his shoulder, flannel shirt over a plain white t-shirt and regular blue jeans. You could recognise Peter Parker from miles away. You've never felt so terrified and so excited at the same time. You finally knew someone in this university and it had to be him of all people. He never told you he was going to ESU. In his defense, you couldn't really recall ever speaking to him. You used to have the biggest crush on him back in high school, but never gathered the courage to actually chat him up, even if it were about homework. He never got assigned as your partner on a project either (no matter how many times you would fantasize about it), so you just graduated one day and accepted the fact it just wasn't meant to be. 

But now you were presented with the perfect opportunity to actually talk to him and decided to take it. Unfortunately, the class started before you could approach him. You tried your best to keep your focus on the professor, but it seemed as if that was not necessary, he was only going over the main goals of the class and what books you would need. You sneakily looked over Peter from time to time, thinking about what would be best to say to him and not make it awkward. 

The class was over in the blink of an eye, which made your heart beat pick up because you no longer had an excuse to not approach him. There was a line forming around the coat hangers, which you thought was going to be the best way to casually start a conversation. You cut the line when you saw Peter hang up his coat, putting yours next to his and smiling at him. He smiled back when the two of you locked eyes. 

"Hey" you said "Peter Parker, right?"

He looked a bit stunned by your question. First, he was starstruck because the prettiest girl he had ever seen came out of nowhere and greeted him and secondly, she knew his name. And that was not supposed to be like this at all. His mind was rushing and calculating how it were possible. Were you a supervillain from an alternate reality trying to expose him? Or did the spell just not work on you? All of the scenarios seemed very bad for him. 

The way he just sat there and said nothing was making you extremely nervous. It did feel like a terrible idea now that you had done it. 

"We used to take Spanish together in high school." you added, your voice shaking slightly from the anxiety. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything, I'm really sorr-"

"Wait Spanish?" he finally said, his theories crumbling down when he realized what was actually going on. You were no supervillain, just an old classmate. Yet, he was sure he would have remembered you. 

"I really don't remember..." he continued, feeling his cheek heat up.

"Oh that's fine, we never really... spoke? Like at all, I sat all the way in the back and no one could make me say a word."

He laughed softly at your words. 

"Wanna discuss this over coffee? If you don't have any other classes?"

"I'm free, so yeah, we could grab a coffee"

20 minutes later the two of you were laughing over how ridiculous you looked in the yearbook. Peter was holding your phone and looking at the photo in which you still had braces on, your eyebrows were so badly drawn on because you thought shaping them with a razor the night before was a good idea. It was not, you shaved off so much from one of them you had to fill it in. And since it was your first ever filling eyebrows in, it was very, very bad.  Also, your hair looked like it was made out of dark matter, because you recently had it dyed black, straightened it and accidentally put a bit too much hair oil on it. You were definitely not having a good time back then, but it was a small price to pay to hear Peter laugh so hard. A 4-month accutane treatment to acne and taking your braces off could really make a person change enough. It was a glow up and Peter could really see it now. 

"Okay now that I've seen that, I actually do remember you! You're the girl that got hit in the head with a basketball while tying her shoes on the bench during gym! Somehow you fell back and got under the benches so I had to pull you out."

"Oh no" you whined, hiding your face in your hands to hide how hard you were blushing. And he was right, that really did happen once, and it was that moment that actually started your little crush on him. You were probably 14 when it happened. You fell under the bleachers and felt so embarrassed that you froze on the spot, feeling like crying. People came running towards you, Peter beating them to it, and pulled you out by the hand. He dusted your shirt off and asked if you were alright. To your teenage mind he came in like a knight in shining armor, and it made you fall for him, very hard. 

''Come on, it wasn't that bad!" he said between laughs, giving your phone back. 

"It was bad, like really bad. How can your only memory of me be my worst moment in high school?''

"If that's your worst moment, you were doing good."

You took a sip from your coffee, your finger tracing the rim of the paper cup once you placed it down on the table. You really were regretting not talking to him in school, he seemed like such a nice person, you would have been good friends. 

"Why did you decide to go to ESU? I thought you had plans to go to MIT with your friends."

"Oh, I didn't get in."

"Yeah, totally sounds believable, Peter Parker, the Stark intern, highest SAT score in our grade, didn't get into MIT" you said sarcastically, shaking your head at him. 

He sighed, looking down at his hands. His leg started bouncing under the table and he suddenly seemed tense. Now it really did feel believable, based on his reaction. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"It's okay, honestly I was so sure I would get in too, but I don't think I ended up at a bad place"

"Obviously you didn't, I chose ESU, which makes it the best place ever. And now that I know you're here too, I get double confirmation for that." 

He laughed softly at your words.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few weeks later you were actually glad to have to work in pairs in the lab because Peter asked you to be his partner. 

You arrived just before the class started, sitting down at the table and putting your protective goggles on. 

"Sorry" you said as you sat down next to him, taking the empty flask that was sitting in front of him and immediately starting to mix the things you managed to read on the board. 

Peter smiled at you as he watched you, doing his own thing which you didn't pay too much attention to. 

"Roommate problems again?" he asked. 

Being lab partners meant the two of you had to talk regularly, which led to getting closer. You didn't know many people there besides him and your nightmare of a roommate. 

"You have no idea." you sighed, dropping a few droplets into a test tube. The mixture inside started smoking up slightly, you swirled it around until it stopped, passing it to him so he could heat it up. 

"What did she do this time?"

"Locked me in and took both of the keys on her way out. I had to call her to come back and unlock, she was pissed."

"Still don't get how someone can be so rude to you for no reason."

"I don't think she hates me really, she hates the idea of me. Not every 3rd year student is keen on the idea of babysitting a freshmen, I totally get that."

Peter wrote something down in his notebook after the mixture started bubbling up. You looked at it, brows furrowing. 

"What's the temperature?"

"140 F" 

"Peter that's not supposed to happen" you said worried 

"Actually it is, you didn't have the time to read the board and put only half"

"Oh-"

He removed the test tube, letting it cool down.

"It's okay, we'll just multiply it by two."

"Sometimes I wonder what I would do if you weren't here."

"Probably blow up the place."

You rolled your eyes at him before the both of you laughed, continuing your work. You tried being more concentrated now, and for the most part it was working out. Until Peter would roll up his sleeves and expose his forearms. Or when he would take the goggles off to fix his hair. You tried staring as discreetly as possible, but he probably did notice it every time.

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That same night was your first ever frat party. You weren't really a fan of parties, the high school ones you went to were boring but you were hoping that college ones were going to live up to the hype everyone was giving them. Plus, you were trying to make amends with your roommate, and she wanted some alone time with her boyfriend back at your place. The idea of frat boys really turned you off, you had seen more than enough of them in class and around campus. 

The music was booming through the speakers as you entered the house, people were everywhere. You could barely squish through the crowd, it was barely 10 pm and people were already wasted. You really wanted to let loose that night too, so you made it over to the bar and took whatever drink was handed to you first. It was vodka. Tasted bitter and burned down your throat and stomach as you drank it. The stress from university and the complicated relationship with Ruth, your roommate, were really starting to get you. Add your unresolved feelings for Peter to the mix and you really do have a strong enough pressure to make you explode like a time bomb. So, you wanted to take some pressure off by drinking and dancing. No one knew you here anyway so it was relatively easy to just do whatever you wanted. 

Five shots of vodka were already in your system by the first hour. The dance floor was yours to take. A red plastic cup in your hand while you were swaying to the rhythm of the song playing, boys were coming from left and right to dance together. And you did dance with them, probably even made out with one or two as well. It continued for what felt like forever, until 2 am rolled around and you started feeling tired and wasted. And the alcohol in your blood was about to hit you in the worst way possible and make you overthink everything that was going on around you. At that point you were sat on a couch in the trashed living room and some dude was talking to you. His hand was on your knee. You were too preoccupied by your own thoughts to even listen to whatever he had to say.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Peter hid behind his apartment building on campus, looking around to make sure no one would see him as he took off the spider-man costume. Ever since he went back to no one knowing his identity, he had to sneak around. He couldn't risk any of his roommates seeing him accidentally so he took the costume off outside after patrol, shoved it in his backpack and walked in. If anyone was ever awake and asked where he was, he would say either the library or doing lab work with you. He really did use you as an excuse a lot to his roommates, which gave them all kinds of wrong ideas. He didn't share a bedroom with anyone, which made his life so much easier, but there was a whole other bedroom with two boys in it in his apartment. 

No one was awake when he walked in, throwing his bag on the floor next to his bed. He felt shattered. The whole studying and spider-man business was draining his batteries like never before. Peter lay down on the bed, too tired to even get out of his jeans. He was rapidly drifting into sleep when his phone started ringing. He groaned in annoyance, looking at the screen only to see it were from you. Peter quickly picked it up, any feeling of tiredness leaving his body when he heard you crying on the other side of the phone. 

"Hey, hey, what happened? Are you hurt? Where are you?" he asked, panicked. 

"Ruth locked me out again." you cried on the phone "She left her key in, she was with her boyfriend and they were probably doing the deed and locked themselves and fell asleep."

You babbled really fast, he was trying to understand what you were saying but it was muffled by soft sobs. And you didn't sound sober either. 

"Peter, you fix all of my lab mistakes, please fix this."

He wasn’t sure what to do, especially since he didn’t know where you lived exactly. There weren’t many opinions in this situation, he could either find you and kick the door down so you could get in your place or he could take you in his room and let you sleep there. 

“Can you tell me where you are?” 

“In front of my dorm?”

“I don’t know where that is, genius”

You continued sobbing at his words, which made him feel even worse. You were very vulnerable and probably scared and he was acting poorly. 

“Okay, okay, sorry, I didn't mean that. Tell me where your dorm is and I’ll come fix it, okay?”

“It’s the one next to the library” 

He hopped out of his bed, rushing towards the building. 

When he got there he saw you sitting on the steps, looking down at your feet. 

"Hey" he said, standing in front of you, his hands in his pockets as he watched you slowly look up to him. Your eyes were red from all the crying and your cheeks were still wet from the tears. Peter sat down next to you with a sigh, the second he did that he could tell you had been drinking. The smell of vodka and cigarettes were all over your clothes. 

"Hi" you muttered back after a while, not really sure what to say or do at this point. 

"So what happened?" he whispered to you, bumping his shoulder into yours

"I got locked out, again" you whispered back, looking at him. He was smiling, a warm, comforting smile that made you feel so incredibly guilty that you called him. 

It made you realize what time it actually was, and that you probably woke him up. It was the middle of the night, and you woke up the closest thing you had to a friend here to help you. You ruined his sleep so he could save you from something you could have probably figured out on your own if you weren’t drunk. 

"Come on" he said, getting up and reaching out his hand to help you up as well. ''Let's get you out of here" 

You took his hand, the tears were welling up in your eyes again as you looked at him. He seemed so tired, yet he came rushing to your rescue. 

He walked in his room, trying to be as quiet as possible. 

"Wow you have a double bed??" you said as you looked around his room.

"Oh, yeah" he said, blushing when he saw the state of it. He didn't really think about making the bed before he left and the bedding looked like scrambled eggs with all the pillows and blankets everywhere. Peter didn’t want to look messing in front of you but it was too late for that.

"Lucky duck" 

Peter was kind enough to take out some clothes for you to sleep in while you showered. It was a spare pair of pajama pants and an old star wars t-shirt. He looked away while you got dressed and helped you into bed after that. 

"I can't thank you enough for this."

"Oh, you can, you can do my calculus homework."

The both of you laughed after that. He grabbed a pillow and a blanket, with the intention of sleeping on the couch. 

"Where are you going?"

"To sleep?"

"Not here?"

"Well, no-.... I-.... Don't want to invade...."

"I feel bad enough about it as it is, please come sleep in your bed, it's big enough" you whined.

Peter stood at the door. He really didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable, or crush you while he slept but at that point he was so shattered that the bed seemed like the best thing that could happen to him. You got up and pulled him towards the bed, grabbing the pillow and blanket with your other hand and throwing them on.

Peter was asleep the second his head hit the pillow, and you followed a minute or two later. It didn't feel as weird to sleep in the same bed as the two of you had anticipated. Maybe the alcohol helped. You were pretty sure that it was, in fact, the alcohol that made you call him, the one that insisted on sharing the bed as well. Sober you would probably be a flustered mess just from the thought of being in Peter's bedroom alone. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The second Ruth knew you had somewhere to sleep over, she took advantage of it. It was happening so often that you basically had a schedule when you would sleep over at Peter's. He didn't mind one bit because it was a reason to spend time with you. Plus, you did all your work for classes together, even in classes you or him weren't taking. So by the middle of the semester, you two were practically platonically dating. 

And it made you feel the worst and the best type of ways at the same time. You absolutely loved spending time with him and your feelings were only getting deeper and deeper with each day. Somehow, you still felt like you were taking away the college experience from him. He declined every party opportunity his roommates suggested, he rarely spoke to other girls and if he went out with friends from other classes, he would always make you tag along with them. Everyone thought that if you were not dating, then you were definitely hooking up, no matter how many times you denied it. Truth being told, it was actually kind of weird that you weren't doing either of those. And it got even weirder when someone else started expressing an interest in Peter.

Surprisingly enough, even to yourself, you actually liked going to parties. The alcohol helped you loosen up and talk and since Peter actually had other friends, now you knew some people here and there. You would always find someone to chat with at a party and you learned that socializing wasn't at all as scary as it seemed before. 

Tonight you found yourself at a random party in some basement of the dorm on the other side of campus. You knew that you'd be home late so the arrangements of staying over at Peter's were already made. As you were speaking to someone from your beginner-friendly biology class, a girl approached you. She was tall, way taller than you, had long dark hair and an amazing body. She grabbed your arm and said your name in a questioning tone. You nodded slightly taken aback from the interaction. 

"Can I borrow you for a second?" she asked, turning to the other person in an apologetic smile. 

"Sure."

She pulled you a bit away, still holding your arm right above the elbow. The whole thing was making you tense for some reason. 

"I'm sorry that I asked like this." she said, letting your arm go. "Actually, we've met before, I take calculus with Peter Parker, he brought you over at one of our group study sessions."

"Oh. Right." you did remember her now, but she looked slightly different with heavy makeup on. She definitely looked like one of the it girls on campus and you got the impression that she actually was. 

"So I wanted to ask if you and Peter were a thing?"

Once again you were stunned by a question from her. You looked around for some reason, she was making you feel uneasy. 

"Um, no, we're not."

"Great!" she said with a bright smile. "Do you think he'd be into me? He has this nerdy sex appeal, I actually really want to get with him."

You were blinking in disbelief towards her. This whole thing was really not making you feel well about your situation. She was gorgeous and she wanted to fuck your crush, it was going to end badly for you. You felt something like a ball in your throat that you knew even the gin couldn't wash down. 

"Well, good luck with that." you said, patted her shoulder and walked away before you started crying in front of her.

The whole situation really put you in a bad mood. There was nothing particularly wrong with it, but it managed to burst the bubble you were so peacefully living in. It got you wondering if Peter had his eyes on someone, if he was sleeping around with different girls, if he was going on dates. You kept imagining it, and drinking to try to stop, but nothing seemed to help. You couldn't spend every waking second with him to know, plus he never talked about girls with you. You didn't know who he was texting, or if he were going out with someone and not telling you. You were sure he wasn't because no girlfriend would ever feel okay with some random girl sleeping over as much as you did. Then again, he could be hooking up with someone, you were only sleeping over two or three times a week. 

You were so preoccupied by your worries that you almost didn't pick up your phone when Peter called. He said he finished whatever work he had to do and was going to come to the party and pick you up. It made you even more anxious. 

He walked through the door 15 minutes after the phone call. The whole thing was a sensory overload for him, the music was way too loud, the colors were too flashy, people were everywhere. He was constantly on edge because people were walking a little too close and his reflexes were being triggered. He hated parties. He hated the idea of you liking them even more. With the amount of time the two of you were spending together in the last few months, he grew very attached, he even developed a little crush of his own, but he was too terrified to admit that. Given his background and his secret, he wasn't too sure he wanted to put you through what MJ had gone through. He felt like it would be unfair to lie to you at the same time, it's not something you could hide from the person you're dating. 

People greeted him here and there, giving him brofists and handshakes. Peter really felt like a real frat boy, but he hated the experience. He froze in his tracks when he saw a girl that looked just like you making out with some dude. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, his chest tightened and it felt like someone set his lungs on fire. You were wearing black skinny jeans and a black top, hair was tied in a bun and your tongue was in someone's mouth. Was that why you sounded so weird on the phone? Was that why you waited so long to pick up? Peter was too stunned to even move so he just stood there in shock for a few seconds. He felt a hand on his shoulder, which made him snap out of it, turning his head. He met your eyes when he looked down, giving you a confused look. His head turned back to the other you that was still exchanging saliva with a guy, then back to the actual you. He finally started breathing again. Your outfit was actually nothing like the girl's, you had a long-sleeved light blue dress on that had a v-cut. It made you look really desirable and the way the color mixed so well with the lighting in the room, you looked like you walked straight out of Peter's dreams. He was practically trying to take pictures of you with his eyes for later. 

"What?" you asked as you noticed his stare, looking at your dress for accidental spills or any signs of why he was looking at you like that. 

"Nothing, actually." he said, taking the cup you were holding and finishing whatever was in it. He didn't really care what was in, alcohol had little to no effect on him but he liked to pretend. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You expected to go home shortly after Peter's arrival, but things didn't play out that way. The girl that talked to you about him earlier tonight saw the two of you and came over to chat. After 15 minutes of them talking and you awkwardly standing there, holding an empty cup in your hand, you were feeling more annoyed than ever. And pretty drunk too. You were already in a bad mood because of her, and when Peter suggested walking her to her dorm you just felt like crying. Your feet were killing you because of the heels you were wearing and you made sure to inform him but he seemed to have forgotten about that. 

And now, all three of you were walking around campus to get her safely to her room. You were giving them a side eye the whole time while she tried to scoot over closer to him. And when she said she was cold she could offer his flannel, you rolled your eyes so hard you got scared they'd get stuck and not come back. Unfortunately, they did come back and you had to witness him putting his shirt over her shoulders. Once at her dorm, she even had the audacity to kiss his cheek before walking in. It made him blush, and you, you were really about to throw up at that point. It felt like a very weird game of chess, and she had checked you in it. 

"Are you okay?" Peter asked when he saw how you looked. Gorgeous, he thought, but kind of pale and like you would collapse any second. 

"No" you said, your eyes meeting his. You could see the lipstick stain on his skin from the other girl and now you really did feel like throwing up. You were only 3 steps away from him and he made them so fast you felt like he teleported. 

"No, no, Peter, step away" you told him, your hand covering your mouth while you rushed to the nearest trash can and actually threw up. He rushed after you, holding your hair as you did. 

"You didn't look THAT drunk."  he said, patting your back while you were coughing. 

"This is so embarrassing" you cried softly, as if this night wasn't humiliating enough. 

"There, there, I hope you got it all out because I am not changing my sheets for the second time today." 

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"I'm thinking about switching my field of studies." you said, looking at Peter. 

He took his glasses, looking at you in disbelief. He was sat at his desk, trying to solve a math problem while you were lying on his bed, playing on your phone. 

"Chemistry doesn't do it for you anymore?" he asked mockingly.

"No, I just hate spending so much time with you." you replied in the same tone, sticking your tongue out at him. 

It had been a week since the whole party thing. You didn't throw up at his place, but you did have the worst hangover of your life. Peter helped you through it, but didn't pass up an opportunity to make fun of you.

"Then why are you here? I'm sure there's a party somewhere on campus."

"Shut upppp" you groaned, throwing a pillow at him. He caught it mid air and put it on the back of his chair before turning to finish his work. 

It felt like it was too early to sleep but you didn't have anything better to do since Peter was so busy with math. You turned on your side, facing the wall, since you liked sleeping on the side next to the wall, and closed your eyes. You didn't know how long it had been but you were definitely asleep when you got woken up by a knock on the door. You looked up with confusion, half asleep when Peter gave you an apologetic smile and got up from his chair to check who it was. 

He assumed it was one of his roommates that either lost or forgot his key, but he was surprised to open the door to his calculous classmate. 

"Hey, Pete." She said "May I come in?"

"Sure-" he said, letting her in

The girl walked over to the couch and sat down. 

"Remember last week when you gave me this shirt?" 

"I do." he said, only now noticing what she was wearing. It was his flannel, with a belt around her waist.

"Well, I came to return it." she said, unbuttoning it and taking it off. She got up, only in her underwear and walked towards him, handing him the shirt.

Peter was so flustered that he had to stare at his feet the whole time. 

"I think you got the wrong idea here-" he started, squeezing the flannel in his hand.

"About what?" she asked, squatting down in front of him so he could see her, and, well, you know...

Just as he was about to move, the door of his bedroom flew open. You stood there, wearing his shirt as your pajamas, double taking on what you were seeing. You didn't think there would be anything serious happening, but the chatter was disturbing your sleeping attempts and you wanted to check what was going on. But now you were just frozen in your spot, staring at a half-naked girl that was on her knees in front of Peter. Both of their heads turned towards you, staring in the same amount of disbelief. It felt like your worst nightmares had turned into reality. Neither of you knew what to do or what to say and you just stood there in silence, the tension so heavy it could suffocate someone. 

"It's not what it looks like." Peter managed to say, holding eye contact with you. 

''I'm so sorry, I didn't know-'' she started, getting up from the floor. 

"I think I'll pretend I dreamt that and go back to sleep." you said, closing the door before anyone could do or say anything else. 

"Peter, I didn't know, she told me you two weren't a thing last week."

He handed her the shirt, not even bothering to look at her. 

"We're not. You can keep this, go home."

She walked to the door, stopping at it to look at his back. 

"I'm really sorry, if I can do anything, tell me." 

"Goodnight."

He knocked gently on the door before walking in. He saw you tucked in the bed, hugging one of the pillows. You weren't really sure what to feel right now and you were trying your best not to cry. It wasn't like the things between you had changed and you had no right to be upset over his personal affairs. Peter sat on the bed next to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

"I know you're not sleeping, can we talk about this?"

"Talk about what?"

"What happened back there."

"There is nothing to talk about."

"I don't want you to get the wrong idea."

You sat up, still hugging the pillow. You pressed the back against the wall, looking directly into his eyes.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why don't you want me to get the wrong idea? Whatever that is supposed to mean."

He looked at his lap, unsure of what to say next. 

"Because I'm not that kind of guy."

"Peter, it's none of my business what you do for fun."

"For fun? You think I do this for fun?"

"You're not doing math for fun, that's for sure."

"Are you always a bitch or is it a defense mechanism?"

"You were the one who wanted me to ''not get the wrong idea'' and suddenly I turned into a bitch?"

"Okay, I overstepped on that one. Nothing happened there, I haven't talked to her or seen her since we left the party together and you threw up."

"Okay, for some reason I believe that, but why should it be concerning me?"

"Stop pretending."

"Excuse me?"

He didn't say anything after that, just pulled your arm so you could get closer to him and kissed you. It happened so fast you couldn't really process it. Once the shock was over, you kissed him back. You probably looked like a teen movie kissing scene, you on your knees and arms while he was sitting, one arm for support and the other one cupping your face as you kissed. 

"I should have done this way sooner." he said after you parted.

[gucciwins]

The First Kiss

Harry and Y/N go on their first date...will they finally become something more?

Word count: 4814

A/N: I know how much you all love breakout room and the follow up it's your birthday. I love writing them and it's been a while but do know they are doing well. this is nothing but sweet fluff. I do mention the vaccine and wearing masks which I hope you all are doing. it's important to stay safe and truly wish nothing but the best for you all. I love you xxx

please reblog and let me know your thoughts

_____

“Are you feeling good? I sent over a goodie basket.”

Harry giggled, loving how concerned you were. “I’m doing good, baby.” He sees you tuck your head into your sweater smiling, when he notices it’s the one he sent you in a goodie basket after you got your second shot of the vaccine.

It’s spring break, and Harry can finally say he is officially vaccinated after letting the mandated two weeks pass. It’s perfect timing, honestly, as he has been itching to finally see you in person again.

Your university let you know that they would begin to have vaccine dates open to students through an email that you quickly forwarded to Harry. You had to register to get a date for your first vaccine, and slots were filling up fast. You shot Harry multiple texts telling him what day you got and time, but you went without an answer for an hour which is weird, seeing as Harry never liked to leave you waiting more than five minutes.

By the time he got back to you, he had to wait two weeks, unlike you, who would be getting in only three days. You asked why he didn’t answer, and he said he was in class. You frowned because even then, he always answered. He then confessed he lost his phone in his apartment and didn’t have time to search for it.

You laughed about it, but he was disappointed because he wanted to see you. To give you a hug. To hold your hand.

After spending his birthday together, you both decided against meeting in person for safety even though you both wanted to, more than anything. You postponed your date to the future. Instead, you completed the group assignment through zoom meetings that led to facetime calls. After submitting the project and learning that you aced the assignment, well, you both caved in.

Harry gushed on how he always got B’s on the professor’s assignments, and to celebrate, he sent you a dozen cupcakes from the bakery that you never stop raving about located only three blocks from where you live. Then proceeded to call him over to celebrate and who was he to say no. Harry was shocked at how rich and full of flavor they were because he wasn’t aware it was vegan. Yet, it tasted better than anything he ever had. Harry realized why it was your favorite, promising to take you there in person to have your pick of favorites and not only red velvet and carrot cake because they were safe choices.

You couldn’t say you’ve been on a proper date with Harry, but you’d like to count all the zoom calls and facetime calls as dates not that you let Harry know it would only inflate his ego. You’d start a call to ask a question on assignments, and it would lead to sharing stories back and forth of what their favorite book was to where they would visit if they could go that very second. You loved how insightful he was, also liked how he used pastel highlighters to mark his annotations. Harry was a fan of how you always had a pencil in your hair or behind your ear. How you always had a snack on hand because you didn’t want to listen to professors without something to eat or you’d lose focus.

You were glad you’d be able to get together safely but also taking all the needed precautions. Safety is hot, as Harry liked to say all the time when you sent him photos of you wearing your masks.

“Yeah, like the basket?”

Harry grins, but it’s not as bright due to the lacking pixels of your laptop. He holds it up, having placed it in his lap. “I did love the bath bombs.”

You smile back at him, “Going to change your life. Self-care is important, bub. Even in the smallest ways as a bath.”

Harry nods, “I know, baby. The reason I remember to take deep breaths each morning, no longer eager to reach for my phone.”

“Proud of you.”

“And I of you, baby.”

Harry shines his dimples at you when you turn your head away at the sweet name he started calling you a few weeks ago. You adored it, honestly, but it always left you feeling flustered.

“H, please.”

“Baby, I like seeing you flustered.”

“You’re a menace.”

He shrugs, still giggling.

“How are Mitch and Sarah?”

“Wonderful, sickly in love as always. Spend their time at Sarah’s like composing together.”

“That’s sweet.” You lean in, smiling at him, “you know we should all hang out together. I get to meet Mitch properly and see Sarah again, and you’ll get to meet Amy.” You grow excited at the thought.

“Not before I get to see you.”

“H, we got to coordinate a day that works for all of us. No need to get jealous.”

“Not jealous.”

“Sure,” you reply sarcastically.

“Got to learn to share me with Amy. I cook her lunch and dinner; otherwise, she’d be nothing but a walking cadaver.”

“I want you to make me lunch and dinner,” he pouts.

“I can now that you’ve vaxxed.”

“That I am, so you are.”

“Yes,” you’re waiting for him to go on.

“Will you go on a date with me? Think we waited long enough, and if my feelings weren’t obvious enough, I like you and really want to take you out.” he rambles on.

You interrupt him knowing fully well he could go on for days, “I’d love to, Harry.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Yes, Harry.”

“Great. Friday then.”

“I’m free.”

“I know, know your schedule by heart.”

“Creep,” you gasp at the news.

“Shush, like you don’t have my classes added to your planner.” Your turn to pout.

“I like knowing your schedule, and they overlap.”

“I do too. Look forward to your messages every day between classes.”

“So Friday? What are you planning?”

“A picnic.”

You jump up in excitement, causing your laptop to fall back on your bed before you dive to save it. Harry yelling dramatically in the background as if you just dropped him.

“H, be quiet. You’re fine.”

“Dropped me, darling.”

“Dork.”

He mutters something in return, but you can’t hear him.

“So I’ll prepare lunch because you’ve told me once or twice that you’re hopeless in the kitchen.” Harry doesn’t even try to fight you because it’s true. “You’ll take care of drinks and desserts.”

“Seems like you’re planning the date,” he teases.

“I like picnics.”

“Well, I like you, so I’ll let you take over.”

Your smile turns soft, reaching your hand out as if you could reach in and caress him. “I like you, too. I can’t wait to give you a hug.”

“Counting down the hours.”

“Alright, you have class in ten, and you always struggle to log in.”

“Making me hang up. Not fair.” Harry frowns, debating skipping class for you.

“Don’t think about it, Styles.”

“Fine. Take care, baby.”

“Bye, H.”

A date.

You have a date with Harry.

Finally, it happened.

_____

You were nervous.

Why were you nervous? It was just Harry.

Harry, who wanted to date you from your first meeting, who emailed you asking you out, and who has not stopped talking to you since February. Constantly reminding you of his feelings for you. You hope he knew you felt the same, in texts and sending him little gifts even as small as writing him a letter.

You got up early today to prepare lunch. You decided on sandwiches, a non-messy meal, and Harry always said he wanted to try the bakery bread you use and not the basic store-bought. It was a bit pricey but not as much anymore because you had become a regular, meaning the sweet owner began giving you a discount, especially when finding out you're a student. Still, you always remember to leave a good tip. The turkey sandwiches were finished with cheese, lettuce, and tomatoes. Looked so good that Amy had one as you were making them. You made three and packed them up in your glass reusable containers.

Staring at the sandwiches, it felt like too little food when Harry had told you many times how much he enjoys eating, so you cleaned up and got to make a second meal. You decided on vegetable rice paper rolls. A favorite and easy meal to make that you enjoyed eating. It was packed with lettuce, avocado, cabbage, bell peppers, cucumbers, noodles, and fresh herbs. This was a meal your dad made you all the time as a child with the special slightly spicy peanut sauce that you could drizzle on top.

Harry was going to enjoy this, so you hoped. He promised to make strawberry lemonade. Assured you that it would not be store-bought, and you believed him. During one of your late conversations, he shared how his sister would make him some when she returned from uni. Reminds him of home, he would say.

After packing everything away in the fridge to keep it cool it was time to get ready. You stood in front of your closet for a good five minutes before you began to swipe through the hangers. You knew you wanted to wear a dress; it was warm weather and would only get hotter as the day went on.

You searched your entire closet, there were three options once you had decided on, but you called Amy in to make the final decison for you. She decided on the one sitting in the middle of your bed, which was exactly what you were thinking.

The dress was a white button-front high slit that fit you nicely. You hadn't used it in quite some time, seeing as when you left your apartment, it would be in leggings, sweats, and the first sweater you could slip on.

You couldn't stop looking in the mirror, loving how it flowed around you when you twirled. For accessories, you slipped on a gold ring that had a little heart on it and another that was a gift shaped like a small snake as it was going to scale down your finger. A simple heart locket gifted to you by your grandparents hung right above your cleavage. You decided to leave your hair natural, liking how it air-dried after the shower you had that morning.

There was no makeup on your face, just your favorite rosebud salve lip balm that left your lips soft. Amy insisted you put some on, but you stood firm in your decision, knowing you'd be wearing a mask and didn't want anything smudging.

You looked down at the time on your phone and knew it was time to head down, Harry said twelve, and you didn't want to make him come up to your apartment only to walk down the three levels again. You grabbed the picnic basket that was sitting in the back of yours and Amy's shared doorway closet and made sure to place everything neatly, leaving room for Harry's drink and stashing a bunch of napkins in for any accidents. Basket prepared, you slipped your sunglasses in your hair, placing your lavender tote bag with tiny embroidered daisies on your shoulder that contained sunscreen, your wallet, extra face masks, and a book Harry had told he had wanted to read.

Before opening your door, you put on the white mask that you embroidered sunflowers on. It was one of your favorites, and glad it complimented your look well. You walked down the stairs slowly, not wanting to drop the basket.

You walk out the front door and find Harry getting out of the yellow mask on his face. As you get closer, you can see it's the one you made him. It has bees on it, and embroidered on the left side is 'my honey.' Harry had turned quite pink when he opened the gift he got in the mail over facetime with her. You happily screenshot his reaction, happy to have it to look back on.

As soon as you reach him, it's as if all the nerves you had disappeared. Calm washes over you as he comes to stand in front of you. You can't see the smile he has, but the crinkles by his eyes prove he's just as happy to see you.

"Hi, Harry," you say, your eyes taking him all in.

Harry doesn't hide, he's checking you out, and you're thankful for the mask at the moment, able to hide how bashful you're feeling. "Hello, baby. You look gorgeous. I'm a lucky man."

"Yeah," you swayed side to side, "gave me a reason to dress up."

"Always beautiful, but I'm so glad to see more than just your shoulders." He laughs, and you join him.

"Look pretty, H. I had not seen this cardigan." You reach out, running a finger down over the pastel yellow cardigan that looks to be well-loved. He paired it with a plain white shirt that fits him loosely with Gucci denim trousers that he told you he found a few years ago when he was thrift shopping in London with his mother.

"No, brought it out just for you. Wanted it to match my favorite mask." Although he couldn't see it, you hoped your eyes were doing their job expressing your joy. "Let's put this basket in the trunk. Got a blanket and a few pillows as well as the lemonade."

"And the dessert?"

He chuckles, "and the dessert."

You place everything in the trunk, taking a step back for Harry to close it. He walks you over to your door, opening it for you, you offer a soft thank you, but before you get in, you turn to look at him.

"What is it, baby?"

You stare down at your ribbon-tied wedges before looking up into his piercing green eyes. "Can I have a hug? I just--I'm really happy to see you."

Harry falters for a second before answering, "of course, come here." He's quick to bring you in for a hug, and it feels like home. It's comfortable, and you can't believe you haven't hugged him since February, a good two months ago, when it has honestly felt like a lifetime. "I would have earlier, but when you came out, you truly shocked me with how amazing you looked."

You just hug him tighter, enjoying feeling his strong arms around you. He looks at you smiling. "That was nice." You nod because it was, and if he'd let you, you'd stay in his arms all day.

"Well, shall we go?"

"We shall."

And with that, you were off to your first date with Harry, which would hopefully lead to more.

_____

The drive to the park was short; you unloaded everything from the car once you got there. Harry offers to carry the basket, letting you lead to picking the spot. You walked ahead, glad he brought you to a park you recognized; it's one you liked to walk around during finals week when you were drowning in essays and exams. This was a nice break. On the other side of the park is a lake where you can rent pedal boats, but you were sure they hadn't opened up for business just yet, wanting more of the population to be vaccinated.

You led him to a secluded area laughing when he joked if you were leading him to his murder. Once you reached the clearing, one large tree with lots of shade and a few rose bushes surrounded it.

"It's beautiful here." Harry awed in amazement.

"Yeah, I found it my first year when I was trying to destress; I don't think many people know about it because it's not on the maps."

"Lucky us."

Harry grabs one end of the blanket, helping you spread it on the grass. You set your tote bag on one corner as well as setting down the pillows. As you make your way to sit down, Harry gently grabs your elbow, causing you to turn and look at him; he's holding a bouquet of tulips.

You felt your eyes well up with tears, not used to such a kind gesture; it's been a long time since you've been on a date with someone you really care about, "You got me tulips, H."

You reach forward and cradle them in your arms. "Course I did; I think you deserve all the beautiful things life has to offer."

You set the flowers on top of the basket before straightening up and pulling Harry into a hug. Your arms around his neck, his resting tightly around your waist, "including you," you whisper in his ear, causing him to squeeze you a bit tighter. Harry pulls back, leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Let's eat, baby. Know you made something delicious for us to enjoy."

Harry set the food out, and you are sure to hand him the wet wipes to clean your hand before you could begin wanting to be clean and not wanting to venture out to find a restroom. He eyed the sandwiches first, then the veggie rice paper rolls.

"Couldn't decide?"

"Wasn't sure what you'd like. So I gave you two options."

"Too sweet angel." Harry leans in to kiss her cheek.

"Think we ought to take off the mask now." You giggle, sad you didn't get to feel his lips on your cheek.

"Yeah, so comfortable it doesn't really bother me wearing them. I am hungry."

You place your mask in your bag, and Harry puts his mask in his pocket. He opens up both containers and digs into the veggie rolls first. He hums after the first bite, chewing happily. "Delicious," he mutters between chews.

"Can add this peanut sauce to give it more flavor, just a tad bit spicy." He watches you as you pick up and spoon drizzle a bit on top, taking a bite. Harry follows your steps taking another bite, and his eyes go wide at the added flavor.

"Shocked, I've lived all my life without this food."

You laugh, "well, now you don't have to."

He chews happily at your response.

_____

Lunch is filled with little conversation, both praising each other for a well-planned meal. The strawberry lemonade complimenting the food perfectly. He brought a raspberry lemon loaf cake for dessert, and you happily admit you ate two pieces. It tasted so heavily, making Harry promise you to buy more in the future for you. He agreed, stating he'd do anything to make you happy.

"It's nice going out with someone, enjoying the sweet fresh air." Harry comments.

You hum in agreement, "I adore my alone time, but with the right company, it can feel just as perfect."

Harry's cheek turns rosy pink quickly, not at all trying to hide from you. You love that he loves to show how much you affect him.

"It feels normal like we've done this hundred of times already.”

You chuckle, nudging his shoulder. "It's cause we have. Just never called any of them dates."

"So you agree, we've been dating since February," he teases.

"Yeah, I think we can say that."

"When was our first zoom call?"

"Hmm...after class a week after your birthday. Think we worked for an hour and talked about nothing for another."

You look over at Harry loving how the sun reflects off his skin; it makes him look like a gift from the Gods. Harry feels your gaze on him, flashing you a big grin, his dimples on display just for you, because of you.

"We will call February eighth our anniversary," he declares.

You laugh, not a silent one but a full-out belly gripping laugh; you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes. Harry sits there confused, not sure where the joke was.

"You alright, baby?" He asks, just a bit concerned.

"That is what you were thinking so hard about; you couldn't figure out a week from your birthday quickly. Took you a good few minutes." You shake your head, trying to catch your breath, tiny giggles still escaping you.

"Oi, no need to be rude."

"Sorry, honey."

"Never claimed to be smart."

"The pretty ones never are," you tease.

"Alright, that's it. I've had enough."

Before you can stop him, he's on top of you, his fingers tickling you from your sides to your thighs. He knows your body getting all your secret spots that make you squirm away from. You almost succeeded in getting one of his hands over your head, but he surprises you by straddling you. You've stopped laughing, but Harry keeps going.

His curls are falling over his head, his eyes shining bright, a new lightness to them. At that moment, you realize how lucky you are, and before you know it, you reach your free hand up and place it on the back of his neck, bringing him down to your lips catching him by surprise.

Harry stays frozen for a second before sinking into the kiss, responding softly, wanting to explore you as he'd been thinking about this moment for months. You love the feel of his lips against yours; you'd happily give up breathing, never wanting to part. Harry tries to pull away, but you chase his mouth, not ready to stop kissing. He smiles against your lips, humming when he places a hand on your cheek, adding more pressure; you're not sure who lets out a moan letting it out into the universe wishing for more, hoping for forever.

You don't get butterflies or fireworks. Instead, you feel the ease of calmness wash over you like when you arrive home after a long day. That's what kissing Harry is like coming home.

You pull back, laying your head on the pillow Harry was wise to bring; you don't try to contain your smile as Harry stares down at you in a look of awe. You run your thumb over his bottom lip-loving how swollen they look thanks to you. His eyes never leave yours; you gasp as he places a kiss on your thumb before taking it in his mouth, sucking it gently; a moan escapes you, surprised at how hot the teasing is getting you.

"You're filthy, honey."

Harry smirks, "just for you, baby."

"Only our first date, H. We aren't going to move fast."

"A makeout isn't too fast for you," he teases.

"Felt just right." You smile, loving the feeling of his weight on top of you as he has not moved from his position, still straddling you.

"I agree."

"Sorry, I didn't ask if I could kiss you. Consent is sexy."

Harry's smile is soft, his eyes flicker to your lips, then back to your eyes, "You hereby have permission to kiss me whenever you please, my love."

"You know all the right things to say to make me puny for you."

"Good to know. Got to keep a mental list."

"What's on there so far?"

Harry smirks, leaning down his mouth right over your mouth; you remember the taste of lemon you felt when you kissed him, and well, you don't try to stop yourself when you attach your lips against his. There's no sweeter feeling, you've decided.

He pulls back, keeping the kiss short, "Know you can't be close to me without giving me a kiss. Know your heart is racing like it might beat out of your chest, and I know you're dying to ask me to be your boyfriend."

"Guess you are smart," you whisper.

He chuckles, nudging his nose against yours, humming as he places a kiss on the top of your nose.

"You know, I was right."

"Yeah, about what, H?" You reach your hand up to run your hand through his curls, brushing them back, giggling as they fall forward again.

"That your laugh sounds better in person. Know it's cheesy but truly music to my ears."

"You nutter!"

"Oi, picking up my slang, are you?"

"Got to, especially when you called that Evan kid a wanker for dismissing my response." You snicker, remembering the moment a few classes ago when you spoke up to give your opinion only for Evan trying to mansplain how women in politics were growing already especially having a female-run as a candidate a few years back. You would have cussed him out, but Harry did it for you. He packed up all your points with his own references. Safe to say, Evan has not spoken up since then.

"Cause he is one. You're the smartest person in the class, and that tosser should not even be in this class. Clearly, hasn't learned one bit since January."

"Settle down, honey. All in the past." You pat his chest a few times, getting his focus back on you. "Got that book you've wanted to read, want to give it a read now?"

"Course, baby. Happy you had it in your collection." He's gotten back into reading now that he seemed to have more time on his hands, and they had been bouncing recommendations off of each other. You had told him to stay off Book Tok because it was the same ten books being promoted by every page. His sister told him to read The Silent Patient, but he couldn't rationalize spending fifteen dollars, and he couldn't find the free pdf. He asked you and told him Amy bought it for you as a gift for feeding her.

"Let me get it out of my bag; you can lay in my lap easier to listen to."

Harry's eyes go wide; you're going to read him. He did not expect that, but he had to make sure. "Going to read to me, darling?"

"If you don't mind." you tuck your hand into your tote bag again, "brought my kindle in case you didn't want to. Won't be sad if you don't want to."

"No, I want you to. Yeah, more than anything. Got the prettiest voice." Harry pecks your lips, pulling back giddy because that's the first time he's kissed you, and well, he has to do it again. Your lips move in sync, the kisses feeling smoother but just as passionate. You break the kiss, playfully push him away, hands-off, letting you adjust yourself before he sets one of the smaller pillows in your lap and lays his head. Your hand is quick to find a place in his hair, thankful you've mastered the one hand reading and page-flipping due to always having a book in your hand growing up.

_____

After reading for a bit, Harry lifts his head from your lap, taking the time to admire you. You kept reading, letting him take you in from this new angle. You stopped brushing his hair instead, allowing yourself to get immersed in the book once again. You giggled, thinking back at Harry's reaction to the opening line of chapter one.

You had just flipped to a new page, ready to start chapter seven, when you saw how fidgety Harry had gotten. He clearly had something on his mind, so you wanted to give him his space; you had only read five words when he spoke, interrupting you.

"Will you be my girlfriend?" Harry blurts, shifting to sit in front of you.

You don't smile, but you know he can see the gleam in your eyes at his words, "Hmmm...will you give me a cute nickname?"

Harry doesn't know what you're doing but goes along with it. "Already do, so yes."

"Will you let me make you more masks?"

"Yes."

"Will you knit me a sweater?"

"I'll knit you hundreds."

You nod, "then yes, I'll be your girlfriend."

"Yeah, you want me to be your boyfriend," Harry teases.

"Dork," you shove his shoulder, causing him to fall back. He gasps in shock.

You laugh, and it's music to his ears; his dramatic response is swallowed as he takes you in. Harry isn't sure where he'd be without you. He takes in the happiness displayed on your face and knows if you could look in a mirror, he'd look just as happy if not more. You are a light in his life.

These last few months have changed everything about him. Harry hadn't really understood what it meant when people said that your partner should also be your best friend. He thought it was cheesy and something to give false hope to others, but with you, he knew it was true.

Starting off as friends built a strong foundation for you both to grow together, and he is forever thankful you took a chance on him.

Harry called it fate, but you well, you think it was all thanks to the zoom gods who set you up in a random break out room not once but twice.

_____

thank you for reading :) I adore you xx

[writingonsaturn]

Better Unsaid

a/n okay this has been all over the place!! it was originally going to be a blurb and darker and closer to smutty (so keep your eyes out for that??? lol), but then I made it softer and the concept got away from me and it got soooo much longer than expected lmao and i still dont love where it ended so maybe part 2?? i have the idea i just dont know lol 

summary: Reader is a princess and Anakin has been her guard during the most public season for the past two years (not the most logical thing but just go with it lol, it gets explained better in the fic) and after a near death experience the two are conveniently forced into a....

ONE BED TROPE ONE BED TROPE *cough cough* ONE BED TROPE WITH ONE PERSON HAVING TO WAKE UP THE OTHER BC THEYRE HAVING A NIGHTMARE,, :)))))))

  --

His smugness is the only thing about him I can consider ‘ugly’. And because I am so desperate to not have feeling for Anakin, the Jedi who has been assigned to protect me through coronation season (which lasts for most of winter), for the last two coronation seasons, I hold onto my distaste for that side of him. Which is why I suppress my laugh as he waits for my reaction with that confident smile. 

“Come on, that was funny.” 

Rolling my eyes, I let myself sit on my bed. I can’t tell if he’s actually funny or if my evening has been so boring that his sense of humor has started to become appealing to me due to comparison. In short, the suitor I was forced to spend an entire evening with lacked personality so much I’m starting to find Anakin funny.

“You’re much more entertaining than this evening’s suitor.” 

Anakin’s expression shifts slightly, his assured grin dropping slightly. “Another miss?” 

“You have no idea.” I relax slightly, taking a moment to be glad that I completed my father’s request and now I can just enjoy the time I have with Anakin. “I know my father’s desperate to make sure my marriage is useful for our people and that he worries about this selection process because he always thought my mother would be here to help, but sometimes I wish he wouldn’t rush it so much. It feels like all he wants me for is to marry me off in exchange of finance or weaponry or something diplomatic.” 

“You’re more than that.” His response is so soft I think I might have missed it if I needed it less. I curse myself for feeling so validated by him. His words shouldn’t mean anything to me. After all, he could easily just be saying that because agreeing with my father will just make me more unpleasant to be around. 

I smile politely while avoiding his eyes. I keep my hands on either side of me, fighting the urge to fidget. “Thank you, Anakin.” My words sound weak in my own ears, so I’m sure he notices my shift in mood. “I’m tired today, I think I’m going to go to bed early.” Normally, I’d be able to shrug off these kinds of things, but the beginning of Coronation Season makes me irritable. The anniversary of my mother’s death hits me harder each year. 

“Y/n.” My name comes out so velvety I can’t find it in myself to interrupt him. “You are more than someone meant to be used as some kind of royal currency, and I mean that as more than just a...friend.” 

I let his last word linger. We’ve tried so many titles that never seem to fit right. He’s the chosen one, one of the most powerful Jedi to exist, and the Jedi assigned to protect me each Coronation Season because that’s when my mother was assassinated. He’s my guard, but we’ve spent too many nights laughing together and talking about everything and anything. And I guess now he’s my friend, even though sometimes when he looks at me in a certain way or sits too close to me or reaches for my hand to guide me somewhere I can’t breathe right. 

“Anakin, you know I love when you’re here, even though sometimes you drive me insane. And I appreciate your kindness, but your words can’t change the truth. That’s how my father sees me and he’s not exactly wrong. I’m not a son, I haven’t been raised to lead an army or lead much, and--” 

“I’ve seen you in meeting after meeting, convention after convention. I’ve witnessed the way you handle real problems and I know how you care about your people. You’d make a great leader, you don’t need a husband to be valuable.” 

My chest swells, feelings I never let myself think about mixing with thoughts of Anakin that I’ve spent so long trying to avoid. “That settles it, you’re my favorite person.” 

He grins, the look warm enough to melt the odd lump in my throat. I fight down a smile as he steps forward. “And I wasn’t before?” 

“I take it back--your head’s big enough without the additional praise.” 

Rolling my eyes, I lean back slightly in order to recreate the distance he so easily destroyed. “And I thought you had finally warmed up to me, princess.” 

The use of my title makes me skeptical. The last time Anakin used it was when he was trying to ease me so that I’d walk around the palace garden so he had an excuse to do the same. It was beyond late and I was half asleep, but he had os much energy he was desperate and just needed to do one more thing. I felt bad that his schedule revolved so heavily around mine (and when he softens his eyes and says please, I’m left incapable of saying the word ‘no’) so I agreed. 

“What do you want?” 

Anakin dramatically clutches a hand over his heart. He throws his head back slightly as if he’s just taken a fatal blow. “When did you turn so cynical? I’ve been back for three days and I’m starting to believe you’re a different person now.” 

Yeah...he’s definitely getting ready to ask for something that’s more trouble than it’s worth. Then again, everything with him seems to be worth it in some capacity. Even if it’s just that one smile he gets when he’s truly content and doesn’t think anyone’s looking. 

“Mhm,” I mumble, still fighting a grin, “so you’re not going to ask me anything?” 

His lips part slightly as he exhales. I watch the way his eyes narrow at my victorious expression. “I don’t have anything to ask of you, but I do have a small request. A request so small you won’t have to do anything but say yes.”

Suspicious. Too easy. “You’re unbelievable.” 

“You just said I was your favorite person. Remember that.” 

I’m too tired for his coyness. I’d rather him make his ridiculous request now so that I can be in bed within the hour. Though I can’t pretend I don’t normally feel better after letting him drag me along on whatever ‘adventure’ he just needed to complete while also not letting me out of his sight. I used to tell him that I wouldn’t tell anyone if I wasn’t under supervision for an hour or two a day, but he dismissed the idea immediately. That’s been the cornerstone of everything. 

“What is it?” 

He sighs once, tilting his head slightly. The way his eyes soften tells me he’s already won at least half the battle. “They still haven’t caught the attempted--” Anakin pauses, something behind his eyes darkening. I know what he’s remembering. Last night, an assassin had gotten closer than they ever had. I had almost been shot in the garden, Anakin had barely pushed me to the ground in time. A fact he’s been beating himself up for since, especially considering that no one has been able to find my attempted killer yet. “They were so close to you. They were within palace limits and they disappeared like they never existed. Who’s to say they don’t work here and are waiting for the next moment you’re exposed? Who’s to say they aren’t here tonight, waiting for me to retire for the night?” 

I didn’t realize how my near death experience had been so personal to him. He, like everyone else, was beyond frantic after it happened. But my father put an end to verbal worry before it could truly begin. He said the best thing we could do was act like everything was fine as the assailant was searched for. Anakin hadn’t been particularly cheery after my father instructed the guards to focus their search on known enemies instead of prioritizing venting the staff closest to me. I comforted him as best as I could, but he didn’t feel like speaking about it and I had to worry about the suitor meeting my father wouldn’t let me cancel. 

“Anakin, you’re right next door to me.” I have to fight the urge to reach for him. “I was fine because of you, and I will be fine because of you.” 

He sighs once, his expression not easing. “And if the person is silent? The attacker could easily work in the palace, but no one wanted to direct the search inwards.” His words are more strained than I’ve ever heard them be. “I think it’d be smart for me to stay in here. I know you’ve refused having a guard stay in your room or outside your door, but...” Anakin sighs. “Your safety would be more assured.” 

Him staying in my room? The only line I’ve ever been allowed to draw, and I’m actually considering letting that go. If he seemed even slightly less sad, I wouldn’t even consider it. It’s not a good idea. I’m already too attached to him. “Anakin--” 

“I’d feel more assured.” 

Damn him. Stupid, extremely sweet Anakin who makes saying no to him impossible. I stretch my arm forward, letting my hand squeezes his forearm gently. “There’s no reason to not feel assured.” He doesn’t ease, the cloudiness behind his eyes remains stubborn. “You’re still worried.” No reaction, the haze that’s taken him isn’t letting go. “Fine--but tell no one or my father is going to take to posting guards at my door every night.” 

...I guess there are worse ways to spend a night. Which is kind of a problem since I’m trying to...enjoy Anakin less. Ugh, I even sound dumb in my head. “I promise, princess.” 

Ugh, he’s adorable. “You’re intolerable.” I stand from he foot of my bed and pull back the covers on my bed. He doesn’t reply, something dark still playing for him. I watch him move to face the door. Wait--is he doing what I think he’s doing? “No, you’re not going to stand there all night. You need sleep.” He has the audacity to give me an annoyed look. “I already didn’t want to do this so now you have to listen to my conditions.” 

He raises an eyebrow, his lips pressing together oddly. He’s trying to gauge something from my expression, perhaps he’s looking for buttons to press to get his way. I guess I look as stubborn as I feel because instead of arguing he just sits on the floor. What? I watch him cautiously, trying to figure out if this is some weird argument trick. 

“What are you doing?” 

“What you asked.”

And just like that I’ve put myself in a position that I will no doubt regret terribly the second common sense returns to me. There’s no way to deny that Anakin and I are closer than we probably should be. We’ve felt like friends first since the day we first met. I can’t think of any reason to not offer to let him sleep in my bed except those stupid budding feelings I refuse to label. 

It’s not like I actually like him. I can’t--I’m going to be married to some nobleman and he’s prohibited from ever forming attachments. I’m not even sure if we’re allowed to be friends. Having actual feelings for him would be so, so pointless. It would just lead to heartache and the ruining of the one genuine relationship I have. I’m just a tiny bit confused right now because he’s objectively really attractive and he’s always there for me. Always there to make a joke after a particularly rough meeting. Always there to offer me a supportive smile. Always there to humble me when I teeter on acting like my father. 

Anyone’s heart would flutter at that, so it doesn’t mean anything. And if it does, I need to squash any budding feelings now before I mess things up. Which is why I should keep him at arm’s length until I get it together. But is that fair to him? And what if doing that is making things worse? What if it’s just reinforcing the idea of having feelings? 

This is ridiculous. I’m going to get over this if it kills me. It’s just a bed and it’s only sleeping. I’m meant to be able to lead an entire union and I can’t sleep next to someone and act normal?” “You don’t have to sleep on the floor.” 

The second the words leave my mouth I regret it all. What’s wrong with me? Did I seriously think I’d be okay?

I hear his soft exhale, “I’ll be fine. I’ve slept in worse places than on your marble floor.” 

His voice sounds so weighted I can’t help but feel bad for not noticing that he’s still bothered. Whether he’s upset about his near miss or the fact that my father didn’t take his advice, I don’t know. But something’s wrong. The easy thing to do would be to just let him sleep it off. The smart thing to do would be to leave him alone until tomorrow. 

I think of all the times that I’ve been upset and Anakin had refused to let me go to sleep angry or sad or overwhelmed. “I know, but it’s really not a big deal. It’s not like we don’t know each other. I mean, last Coronation Season you buttoned me into more gowns than my handmaid. And I owe you for saving me from one of the worst suitors I’ve ever had.” 

“I’m starting to think we need to develop some kind of signal.” 

The tiny bit of lightness that’s returned to his voice makes all of my internal struggle feel worth it. “You always seem to know.” 

“That’s because when you’re reaching your limit, that one line appears between your eyebrows.”

I didn’t realize I had such a tell. I try to remember the way that the suitor drawled on and on about how amazing he was and how he couldn’t wait for the day he had a bride to bear his children and plan (tedious) social events. My hand moves to my forehead, trying to feel the crease Anakin mentioned. Can everyone tell when I’m growing tired? Am I that transparent? 

Anakin’s slight laugh steals my attention. He’s facing me again, his elbow holding his head up on the foot of my bed. “What are you doing?” 

“I don’t--I don’t think i get a crease between my eyebrows when I’m irritated.” 

I hear him stand. I don’t realize he’s approaching me until he’s so close I could touch him without even needing. to stretch. “No, when you’re irritated you raise your eyebrows slightly, because that’s when you’re at your most sarcastic.” 

“Really?” 

The corner of his mouth tugs upwards. “Just like that.” I force myself to keep my expression blank. “When you’re reaching your limit, your eyebrows crease here.” His finger taps the space between my brows so gently I almost don’t realize what he’s doing. “And when you’re trying not to laugh--which is often, because you refuse to admit that I’m funny--you press your lips together in a way that forms a dimple here.” The knuckle of his pointer finger brushes against the bottom of my cheek. 

I bite my tongue to fight the warmth spreading across my face. “I didn’t realize i was so transparent.”

“I can’t always tell what you’re thinking.” 

“I’ll take it.” Maybe if I was less tired, I’d argue a little more. “You know you’re not that difficult to read either.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes, I can tell when you’re just being stubborn for the sake of it. I can see it in your eyes and you’re doing it right now.” 

His expression harshens slightly before softening. “Y/n--” 

“I’m not wrong.” 

He sighs once, stepping back. I watch him pace around my bed before taking a seat on the edge of my other side of the bed. “Are you happy now?” 

“Happy that I won? Absolutely.” 

Anakin halfheartedly glares at me. “Careful, add a crown and a robe that trails down a throne and I’d feel like I was speaking to your father.” 

“Careful, another side comment like that and I’ll ‘accidentally’ kick you off the bed in the middle of the night.” 

“Not if I kick you off the bed first.” 

I trace a thoughtless pattern on the fabric of my bedsheets. “What are you? Twelve?” 

“I’m older than you.” 

“Barely.” I continue the thoughtless pattern tracing as I fight the sleep from my eyes. “Your comebacks are usually more creative than that.” 

He exhales, relaxing slightly as he rests his back against a pillow. “I’m tired, like you claimed to be.” His eyes flutter slightly, a bit of his exhaustion showing. “Go to sleep.” 

I should. I’m too old to think I can put off a tomorrow I don’t want by just staying up. This is stupid. I’m too old to think I can put off the anniversary of my mother’s death by going to bed. She had been taken from us on castle grounds, killed by a revolutionist who viewed my mother as a class traitor. I still remember the way she slumped to the ground, her blood staining the snow beneath her. I remember the way the guards were so busy chasing her killer no one thought to keep me away from the body. 

“Y/n?” 

I scratch the back of my arm in hopes of banishing my thoughts. “Yes?” 

“You’re being quiet.” 

“You said to go to sleep, that tends to be a quiet thing.” 

I can feel his eyes on me. “Since when do you listen to me?” Not trusting myself to actually reply, I only offer him a hum of acknowledgement. “I know you’re not half asleep.” 

Folding my hands on my lap, I avoid his gaze. “It’s tomorrow.” 

I don’t know why I trust him to understand my vague response, but I do. His silence stretches over us like a thin blanket on a cold night. Maybe he doesn’t understand what I’m implying. I can always correct him tomorrow, when my eyelids are no longer as heavy as my heart. The more seconds that pass in total silence, the more I think that maybe he’s fallen asleep. 

I wouldn’t be surprised, Anakin has seemed tired recently, like some additional weight he won’t share with anyone has been thrust onto his shoulders. A small part of me rolls in guilt. I need to be a better friend, just because I’m suddenly a little too aware of him doesn’t mean I can shrug him off and ignore him. 

My hand almost flinches away from the feeling of something surprisingly warm touching my pinky. When I realize that it’s just Anakin and that the contact was probably accidental, I force myself to ease. It’s not like we’ve never touched before, I don’t understand why I’m making it weird. Sitting in my bed in the dark doesn’t change anything. His hand turns slightly, pressing into mine a little more assuredly. Biting my tongue, I turn my hand slightly, exposing my palm. And just like that, our fingers intertwine. 

“She would have been proud of you.” His voice comes out so low I barely register the words. 

The words shouldn’t mean much to me--he never knew my mother and has no way to know what she wanted me to be.--and yet I find comfort in them. I smile, turning my head towards him. “You didn’t even know her.” 

He rolls his eyes slightly, relaxing further before squeezing my hand once. “Who wouldn’t be proud of you? You’re kind and smart and decent to be around when you’re not telling me what to do.” 

My heart swells in my chest so much I’m surprised it doesn’t burst. Could he be cuter? “Yeah...now I’m sure you’re my favorite person.” 

“Now you’re sure?” 

The smugness in his voice has me rolling my eyes. “Don’t make me regret saying that.” 

“Maybe in the morning,” he says easily, “now go to sleep. There’s nothing worse than escorting you from meeting to meeting while you’re tired.” 

“I’m not that bad.” Even in this darkness, I can make out the way he raises an eyebrow. “Shut up--I’m going to sleep, but not because of you.” 

He lets out a slight huff. “You’re impossible.” 

The desire to respond to his comment is not enough for me to win the fight against the weight of my eyelids. The moment my eyes shut, I feel powerless to anything that isn’t sleep. I let myself fall into a weightless sleep, my only tether being the Anakin’s fingers around mine. 

--

A distant noise yanks me from my sleep. I’m too drowsy to do anything but register the sound. I hear another similar...whine? cry? I can’t tell and I’m too asleep to figure it out. I almost fall asleep again, but a third distressed sound keeps me from it. I wipe my eyes lazily with the back of my hand as I try to sit up. 

Squinting, I make out a figure on my bed. It takes me a moment to remember Anakin and how I fell asleep. Our hands are still together and no light is peering through my window so it can’t be that long since I fell asleep. Another disgruntled sound carries itself throughout the room. I shift slightly, leaning over Anakin cautiously. 

Golden brown curls are beginning to stick to his forehead and his eyebrows are drawn together sharply. He’s having a nightmare.  I shift even further forward before cautiously placing a hand on his shoulder before squeezing him gently. 

“Anakin,” I whisper, “it’s not--it’s not real.” His eyebrows draw together even more harshly. I shake him a little more stubbornly. “Anakin, wake up--you’re having a ni--”

 My forearm is grabbed so suddenly I barely register it before I feel my back shoved into my mattress. I blink twice. His dark eyes are frantic and the look on his face is far from the gentle, easygoing expression I’m used to. He’s breathing deeply, his chest rising and falling from above me. I swallow a slight panic and something I don’t understand as I try to keep my eyes on his face and my thoughts away from how close he is. Anakin pries his fingers from my forearm one by one until only his palm is touching me. 

“Y/n, I--” 

“It’s okay.” Honestly, I’m more worried about his uneven breathing than the way he grabbed me. I can’t imagine everything he’s been through or how justified his nightmares are. Anakin moves his hand away from me. I don’t sit up until he’s off of me and sitting with his back against my headboard. “It’s okay--I just--you were having a nightmare and I thought I should wake you.” He doesn’t react. I turn my body further, keeping my back straight. Anakin doesn’t move, and the longer he stays still, the more I feel like I should say something else. “Do you want talk about it? Or do--do you want to talk about something else? Or go to sleep? Or get some water? Or--” The far off look behind his eyes silences me. I scoot forward slightly. “You’re okay, Anakin, I promise.” 

His head turns at that, his eyes searching mine for something I don’t understand. “I thought...” He cuts himself off by swallowing once. 

I shift a little more, trying to find anything normal in his expression. “Thought what?” 

Anakin’s hand is on my arm so quickly I don’t even register his movement. I let his fingers press into my skin. He’s holding onto me like I’m a figment of a dream and he’s beginning to wake up. “I thought I’d failed.” He exhales, the sound heavy. “Failed you and that you’d--I  thought I had lost you.” 

A lump rises in my throat, thick and unmoving. Cautiously, I place my hand over the one still gripping my shoulder like a lifeline. “You didn’t. Nothing happened, it was just a dream.” 

His gaze falls to the ground before he repeats the last of my words. “Just a dream.” There’s a hollowness to his voice I don’t understand. 

I exhale, carefully running my thumb over his knuckles. “Yes.” He doesn’t say anything but his expression hardens again. I let us sit there like that for a long minute. “I promise.” 

“You can’t promise things like that.”

I sigh, unsure of where to go from here. “Bad dreams are only bad dreams.” He doesn’t reply. “I think you should try to get some more sleep.” 

Anakin is unresponsive. I shift back, but before I can transition from almost being on top of him to just sitting next to him, he pulls on my arm to keep in place. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.” 

“Nothing’s going to happen to me.” 

“You almost died today, y/n. I was right there and if I had been a second later--” 

“But you weren’t.” He doesn’t ease. “You were there and I was fine. Don’t torment yourself over what could have been. You’ll drive yourself crazy.” 

“If anything ever happened to y--” 

“It’s not going to,” I whisper, ignoring the way his hold on my arm tightens even further, “Especially this time a year when I have a pretty good gau--” 

He tilts his head slightly, eyebrows drawing together and a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Pretty good? Really?” 

“Someone needs to watch your ego, chosen one.” This time when he tries for a smile, the look has some strength behind it. Relief pools in my stomach. “Now get some sleep, tomorrow’s a busy day and when you’re sleepy you’re beyond irritable.”  

Anakin lets me pull away enough to lay down, but he doesn’t follow. Not for a long second. When he does, his movements are impossibly rigid. I watch him out of the corner of my eye as carefully as I can manage. 

“Y/n?” 

I regret turning my head immediately. I didn’t realize how close he was. It would take no effort from me to make our lips meet. Wait--why am I thinking of that? I’m not allowed to think of stuff like that...especially not about him. 

“Yes?”

He lets out a breath before moving his hand. I don’t understand his hesitation until I feel his hand cupping my cheek gently. “What if next time I’m not enough? What if next time I lose you because I’m not strong enough?” 

I never thought my death would be such a personal thing to him. Sure, I knew that we had some kind of bond, some kind of friendship, and that my death would bring sadness. But I never imagined I’d matter enough to him that thoughts of my death would be frightening enough to slip into his subconscious and become a thing of nightmares. 

“You are enough. Nothing is going to happen to me and if it does it’s not going to be because of you.” Anakin’s lips press together in a way that implies serious uncertainty. His thumb brushes across my cheek so unexpectedly I almost ask him what he’s doing. The intensity behind his eyes is enough to burn me. “Was your dream really that bad?” 

He lets out an uncertain breath as his eyebrows draw together. I don’t miss the way his jaw clenches. “It’s more than the dream. I...y/n, princess,” he tacts on, a hint of humor returning to him, “you’re more than a mission to me.” 

The admission is so soft I can’t help but smile. “I know, Anakin, we’re--” 

“You’re more than a friend to me.” I don’t know if my blood freezes in my veins or if my lungs don’t contract when they should or if my heart literally skips a beat, but I know something in me completely stops at his words. “I--” 

“Don’t say it.” I don’t know how I managed to cut him off so sharply and I’m a little disappointed when I do, but it’s the right thing to do. Thought of the code that’s so important to him have clouded half the immense shock and joy swelling in my chest. “What you’re trying to say...I um, I want to say the same.” I try to drop my gaze but he tilts my head up slightly with his hand. “But we shouldn’t, you know that.” 

"You want to us to pretend that nothing’s different? You want me to escort you from meetings with one suitor to the next every Coronation Season until you’re married off?” 

“No, I’m not saying that. The point is that I’m not saying anything.” His eyebrows draw together in uncertainty. “Isn’t it enough for now, for both of us to just know? If we say it...that could mean bad things for you. And I don’t want to be a bad thing for you.” 

“You could never be.”

It’d be so easy to believe him. To believe him and to let him say what I never imagined I’d be able to hear and damn the consequences of tomorrow. “Can we just refrain from verbally saying anything until you’re sure?” 

“I’m sure right now. I’ve been sure since the first time we ever walked in the garden together. The night after the first Coronation Ball I escorted you to.” 

I remember that night well. The way he hadn’t scolded me for needing air or taking off my uncomfortably high heels to walk in the grass. “If you mean it, you won’t say it yet. I refuse to get in the way of what you’re meant for.”

His thumb runs my cheek entirely, stopping at the corner of my mouth. “Are you capable of not disagreeing with me?” 

Rolling my eyes slightly, I place my hand over his. “Probably not.” 

Anakin exhales, his playful irritation clear in the sound. “You’re impossible when you’re tired.” 

“I am not tired.” 

“I can see the sleep in your eyes.” 

“I can see it in yours too.” 

He pauses, eyebrows drawn together cautiously. “I’ll go to sleep if you do.”

He must be more tired than I thought if he’s compromising with me so quickly. “Deal.” 

Neither of us close our eyes for a long second, we just watch each other with wide eyes. It still doesn’t feel like he’s eased, but he’s come back to me so much more than he was earlier. I’ll make sure to check how he’s feeling in the morning. The first morning after we’ve...I don’t know. 

I’m trying really hard not to get excited because anything that’s been not said could be taken back so easily. That’s the point--but it’s hard not to let my heart get ahead of my rationality. I’ll just take the good for what it is for now and tomorrow we can figure out the rest. Even though he’s not allowed to form attachments and my father really wants to marry me off to foreign royalty.

Tomorrow. This can begin to be solved tomorrow. My eyes shut and I let myself roll fully onto my back. The second I’m comfortably settled, I feel Anakin shift against the bed. I’m too tired to open my eyes until I feel a weight placed against my chest. 

I open my eyes on instinct, less surprised than I should be when I see Anakin’s head resting against my chest. Before I can speak, I feel his arm rest against my side. “Anakin,” I breathe, my hand moving to smooth his hair out of his face the way I’ve wanted to for so long. “What did we just talk about?” 

“You said not to say anything,” he mumbles comfortably, “I’m not saying anything.” ...It is kind of the ideal compromise. Especially since I’m too tired to find reason and he feels so warm. “I can feel you overthinking. Go back to smoothing my hair before I have to rise and stand at your door so that your handmaid comes to wake you. Something tells me she’d be glad for the excuse to get rid of me.” 

That might be the most dramatic thing I’ve ever heard him say. Selma is the most patient woman in the palace. “Selma would never report anything involving me, I can’t believe you don’t like her. She’s the sweetest woman I’ve ever met.”  

“She’s the one that doesn’t like me,” he says, “she always watches me like she’s trying to figure out if I’m planning on stealing you away.” 

Too tired to fight my smile, I go back to smoothing his hair out with my fingers. After a moment, he lets out an exhale that relaxes his entire body. “Goodnight, princess.” 

“Goodnight.” The word is barely a mumble as I feel sleep tug against me for the second time tonight. 

It’s strange, but my excitement doesn’t diminish my tiredness, it just makes the prospect of rest feel so much fuller. Safer. Because there’s so much to sort out and grieve but it’s okay, because we have the time and everything feels okay because Anakin is here, right beneath my fingertips. 

[echoghost1]

What's In A Name

okay, this took me longer than I expected... but here is the fic based on this post

Title: What's In A Name

Summary: Danny thought that having a sub in class would make things easier. Unfortunately, this leads to everyone finding out that his first name isn't Daniel.

His class isn't taking the news very well.

word count: 1670

you can read it on AO3 or down below the cut!

Oh, and I guess I'll tag the people from that post: @spookberry @shinygoldstar

Danny had just gotten to school and was getting his supplies for first period when Tucker ran up with way more excitement for this early in the morning.

“Dude, you’re never going to believe it!”

“Believe what?” Danny asked with an amused grin.

“Lancer took a sick day since the first time in forever!”

Danny felt like he was missing something.

Tucker rolled his eyes when Danny didn’t react correctly, “Subs, man. We have subs.”

“In all of his classes?” Danny asked as the news finally sunk in.

“Yup.” Tucker said with confidence as he popped the ‘p’.

“I have so many classes with him.”

“I know dude, me too!” He wrapped his arm around Danny’s shoulder, “Which means that today is going to be a breeze.”

Danny smiled and couldn’t help getting excited about a nice easy day at school.

================================================

His first class was easy.

The sub seemed just as tired as they were and simply checked that they were in their assigned seats and handed out a worksheet for them to do.

Once the teacher made it clear that they didn’t care if they worked together or not, it turned into more of a hang-out session than actually getting much work done.

================================================

His second period was science which he didn’t have with Mr. Lancer so he actually had to pay attention.

It was a lab day and he was still banned for life from handling all fragile school property, so the lab they had was a bit difficult until the teacher remembered (was reminded) and let him team up with Mikey.

All he had to do was take notes on what was happening. Which was fine. He could do that no problem.

All Mikey asked was for his handwriting to be legible.

================================================

It was his third class that ruined everything. It had all been going so well until then.

The teacher had decided to ignore the seating chart list and did roll by reading off the class roster list on the computer. Which in theory would be fine, except that the computer list didn’t have the notes that Mr. Lancer had added over the year, things like nicknames for instance.

It would have been fine if she had called him Daniel. It would have reminded him of Vlad, which would have been annoying, but manageable.

Unfortunately his first name isn’t Daniel.

“Johnathan?”

Everyone perked up at the name. They looked around, confusion evident on all of their faces. There was no Johnathan in this class. No John or Johnny’s. Was this a secret classmate? It couldn’t be, all the seats were full and no one here was Johnathan.

The teacher sighed and tried again, “Johnathan Fenton?”

Danny perked up and raised his hand, “Here. Sorry. I just um, everyone calls me Danny. Or Daniel, or just Fenton.” he realized he had been rambling and apologized again.

He looked down at his desk still embarrassed that he sort of forgot his own first name for a second. Then he felt like he was being watched.

He looked up and realized everyone, but Tucker, who was too busy chuckling to himself, was staring at him with varying degrees of confusion and anger. Sam included.

The class said nothing. Only stared for the remainder of the roll call.

Once the teacher was finished, and before they could truly start class, Dash was the first to break the silent tension. “Your name is Johnathan?!”

“Yes?” Danny answered hesitantly as he leaned away from the angry jock. Normally Dash wasn’t much of a threat anymore after all the ghost hunting, but he couldn’t exactly use his powers in the middle of class.

“Since when?!”

“Birth?”

“No!” Dash countered.

“Look, I’m named after my dad and it’s too confusing if we both go by the same name, so we just use my middle name instead.”

“But your dad’s name is Jack.”

“Which is short for Johnathan,” Danny explained with a sigh.

Dash sputtered in confused annoyance. Apparently, he didn’t know that either.

Before he could get too angry about his lack of knowledge, the teacher made it clear that they were going to start class now.

Dash glared at Danny and pointed an accusatory finger at him, “I don’t believe you, Fenton.”

“Okay?” Danny shrugged it off and the rest of the class went back to ignoring him.

Except for Sam.

She was still glaring at him.

“What?” Danny mouthed not a hundred percent sure as to what his gothic friend was upset about.

She flipped open her notebook hard enough for the paper cover to slap against the desk and furiously scribbled something down before tearing out the page and quickly folding it like a ninja star and chucking it at his head.

He carefully unfolded the note and read it.

“Are you serious?! Is this some elaborate prank?”

Danny looked up to Sam in surprise and then back to the note.

“No really. That is my name.” he wrote before trying his best to fold the note back up as she had it. He really wasn’t as good at it as she was.

She wrote her response quickly and made a point to get the creases of the folds just right. “Then why is Tucker laughing?”

“I don’t know? I’m not a mind reader Sam.”

“Did he know?”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He didn’t really understand why she was so upset by this. It didn’t really matter. Did it? “I wasn’t keeping it a secret. I just forgot.”

“Forgot what? That it was your name or that I didn’t know?”

He hesitated too long and Tucker finally snatched the note from him and read it over before snickering to himself and added his own two cents before tossing it back to Sam.

Finally, Sam smiled. With a roll of her eyes, she slipped the note into the pocket of her notebook and went to doodling like nothing was wrong.

Danny wasn’t really sure what that was all about, but he was glad it was over.

================================================

The rest of the day was mostly fine. His friends teased him about his full name occasionally throughout the day, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle.

Dash kept giving him the stink eye, which was weird, but better than being shoved into his own locker.

Lunch was a bit of a disaster once Tucker let out his inner bookie and started holding bets on what Danny’s real name was.

There were three options.

One was that his name was really Daniel and he was just pranking everyone somehow.

The second was that his name really was Johnathan and he was telling the truth because Fenton can’t tell a lie to save his life.

While the third was that he had a completely different name and may or may not be related to the Fenton’s at all.

Danny wasn’t sure if he should be finding all of this hilarious or just plain annoying. Maybe it was one of those, ‘we’ll laugh about it when we’re older’ things?

Of course, word spread fast and everyone was trying to figure out what the real answer was. No one was asking Danny, because they weren’t sure if he actually was a reliable source. Tucker refused to give the answer until the end of the day when he would reveal the winners. And Sam admitted that all of the name nonsense was news to her, but since she loved chaos, she would wink and add, “But it could be true.”

Danny realized too late that the only other person to ask before the end of the day was his sister.

Before he could get to her, someone else beat him to it.

Dash had cornered her just outside of the library and asked, “What’s your brother’s name,” without any preamble.

Of course, Jazz, being two years older than them and in none of their classes, had no idea what had been going on. So she answered the question as best she could despite the confusion, “Danny?”

“Ha! I knew he was a liar!” Dash boasted as he turned around and punched his fist into his open palm as he eyed Danny.

“Wait!” He called out to Dash before turning his attention to his sister, “He means my first name!”

“Oh,” she turned to Dash, “Why didn’t you just say that?”

Dash’s shoulders slumped in defeat, “his name isn’t Danny?”

“His middle name is, but not his first name.” she turned back to Danny, “Didn’t you explain it?”

“Of course I did! He just didn’t believe me! And now the whole school is losing their minds because they think this is some crazy prank or that I’m a liar or something.”

Danny sighed and composed himself before giving the warning as he had meant to, “Tucker is taking bets on what my name is so other people might ask you about it too.”

Jazz hummed thoughtfully to herself while nodding, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You are going to tell them the truth right?”

“Of course,” she said but she still had that far-off look in her eye.

Danny figured he would probably regret asking, but he was just too curious, “what are you thinking about?”

“This is very interesting from a psychological perspective, don’t you think?”

“How?”

“Well by learning that what they assumed to be true, wasn’t, it has shifted their perspective on things.”

“Do you really think it’s that deep?”

“What do you think it is then?” she asked, not annoyed that her theory was being questioned, just curious.

“I think people just like drama.”

“Perhaps.” she said as she watched a dejected Dash walk away, “and maybe it’s a bit of both.”

“Whatever it is I hope it goes away tomorrow.” he walked away and wondered if this was a preview as to what would happen if his secret got out.

He stopped in his tracks with a sigh. No, if they found out he was really Danny Phantom it would be worse. So much worse.

[araminakilla]

Day 3: A new & long intervie- Tadeo Jones 4!?

This new and very long and informative interview is thanks to Audiovisual451:

Because it is very long, I will only write those extracts here:

A451: Precisely, this month marks the tenth anniversary of Tadeo's first appearance in theaters...

NM: "It's quite a generational leap, that's why we've tried to make it a film oriented, also, to a more adult audience."

GB: “It is true that the generation of the first 'Tadeos' has now grown up, my children who were 10 years old at the premiere of the first installment are now 20 years old and want to see this third one. I think that 'Tadeo' unleashes passions, we are seeing it in the previews that we are doing with schools. He is a very beloved character, many of those who have not been able to enjoy him in theaters have been able to do so later on platforms ”

A451: What would you say is, then, the distinguishing feature of this third film?

NM: «Using logic, we arrived at a starting point that seemed very amusing to us: two mummies will always be better than one, and if one of them is cursed, then even better, if possible, but already, if one starts to pose a whole series of conflicts of social class, and even of race, around all that, is that it is to burst out laughing. And for that, there we have Mummy and Ramona as protagonists of this story».

A451: All of this gives a lot of play, but also that leap in the script towards the spectacular in the development of certain characters will generate some other complication...

SL:"Yeah, sure, we've had to design a lot of versions of Mummy, and while the ending of the movie was pretty clear to us, it wasn't always written the way it is now. Making a film consists of making decisions all the time, and when it is finished and you see it, everything seems very easy, but the reality is that the path to get there is very complicated...

A451: Are there already ideas on the table for 'Tadeo Jones 4'?

NM: «It's not that there are ideas, it's that we already have a film written and the truth is that we have a very funny story left, but before launching the bells on the fly, we have to wait to see how 'Tadeo Jones 3' works . At the end of the year we will know and it will be decided what to do.

A451: Does Lightbox have any other projects in development?

NM: «We have several projects in hand, but they are not yet on the starting line, let's say. [...] And, like Lightbox alone, the first project we have in the pipeline is 'Tadeo Jones 4', since the story is already written and we believe that the five years that passed between the second and third films should not elapse. At the same time, we have three more projects in development that we are going to start financing at the end of this year».

A451: After all, it is a personal choice…

NM: "That's right. Lightbox produces few movies. It is a 'boutique' studio, so to speak. We develop our own projects, and sometimes, if we can, we occasionally take on some international assignments that we think we can do with some comfort and at a reasonable rate».

-----------------------------------------------

So... where to begin? Emm, many things to analyse. First, I'm glad that Mummy and Ramona are considered the protagonists of this movie, the concept of them fighting about who has the best culture and who is the best is promising.

I really but really want to know what are the other versions of the script for Mummy. Maybe he was meant to be more comic relief, or being more serious, or give us some of his backstory, or maybe he was the reincarnation of an ancient egyptian hence he would know things about Egypt nobody did, or he was meant to be so in love with Ramona at first until the crew decided that it wasn't according to his character to do that (at least not so early, they just met) or maybe he decided to become an Ammit as a way of lashing out because of Tad's mistreatment to him, or him fighting the police and military. I don't know but it would be nice to know how the other endings of the third story went.

Then of course this franchise has a lot of fans. It's fresh, it's funny and colorful. It has a lot of good characters and an incredible potencial that it looks like the crew is aware of that.

That said...

TADEO JONES 4!? THEY HAVE THE STORY WRITTEN FOR THAT MOVIE ALREADY

HOLY COW, THE GERMANS WERE RIGHT, TAD 4 IS IN PRODUCTION, THEY HAVE A SCRIPT!

Now, now, easy there. For the third movie they spent two years seaching for an interesting concept and now they have the concept (and some funny ideas) for the fourth movie when the third one isn't released yet. The level of confidence these people have!

About the possible plot... why I have the feeling this is the movie where Tad and Sara become parents? I don't know, it seems like the most possible and secure route the crew could go with the characters. Bet they also have Mummy and Ramona in this movie so they can adopt a baby mummy, hence making a callback to the very first short of Tadeo Jones where there was a family of mummies consisting of a dad, a mom and a baby. It's a full circle they could also have their own plot aside from Tad and Sara. I wonder if their villain is also the bad circunstances or a solid person.

Now more than anything everyone (crew and fans alike) need for the third movie to be a great success both in and out of Spain so they could greenlit the fourth movie if they plan to release it in less than five years. Also...

🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯

🕯🕯Manifesting🕯🕯

🕯🕯Mummy's complete🕯🕯

🕯🕯backstory🕯🕯

🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯

And just in case things turn very good...

🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯

🕯🕯Manifesting 🕯🕯

🕯🕯singer Pablo Alborán 🕯🕯

🕯🕯voicing a character 🕯🕯

🕯🕯or singing🕯🕯

🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯

I really love that guy, plus cinemas will be full with his fans, so that would mean more audience which is a good thing.

Last but not least, hoping that one of the three proyects in development is a Mummy spin-off. Please Lightbox give us character development for our boy!

[emcon-imagines]

a real charmer

gif characters: Wanda Maximoff x reader  words: 1624 summary: you’ve tried your best to hide your feelings for Wanda, but when you’re assigned together on a mission, the butterflies become hard to ignore... and you’re pretty sure she knows it a/n: I couldn’t resist writing some fluff for Valentine’s Day adfhjdfhajkf I hope you all had a good one I love you all very much and also happy one year of this blog!

------------------------------

You hardly knew the day of the week, much less the date, each day of the mission blending into the next as you tried your best to adjust to the strange hours needed for surveillance, the late nights and the early morning wake up calls. 

“It’s busy out,” you remarked to Wanda as you walked back to the hotel room that night, each of you clutching a bag of take-out in your hands and trekking through the thin layer of snow on the sidewalk. Your exposed hands were growing numb out in the cold, even as you tried to tuck them into the sleeves of your coat and continue holding onto your food. I should have worn gloves like she said. “Where did all these people come from?”

“Probably because of the holiday,” Wanda said, glancing at one of the restaurants as a peal of laughter escaped from inside, a couple opening up the front door.

“Holiday?” It took you a moment, and you felt the heat rising into your cheeks as Wanda laughed, watching you think.

“Valentine’s Day?” she finally reminded you.

“Oh, right,” you said, shrugging and trying to conceal your embarrassment, somehow just talking about the day itself made you freeze up in a way you didn’t around the others. “Somehow I thought February just started. That whole week before this mission was a blur.” Everything felt so easy around her. It’s only because we’re teammates. We work well together. 

“This is us,” Wanda said, reaching out to grab you and steer you back to the door of the Airbnb, behind it a staircase that led to the studio apartment on the third floor. You had almost walked completely past it, the place hidden between a late-night café and a pub that had only just opened.

“I wonder how Steve and Nat are doing,” you said as you placed your food down to lock the door behind you before starting up the stairs. “They’re on watch tonight.”

“I’m dying for a full night of sleep,” Wanda said, ahead of you, ducking her head into her shoulder as she yawned and unlocked the upstairs door. “I’m just glad for that tonight.”

“I’ll probably stay up and listen in on the comms anyways.” You kicked your boots off on the mat inside and tugged off your coat, too tired to even hang it up and instead tossing it over one of the chairs. “Might be something interesting.”

“Uh-huh,” Wanda said, like she didn’t quite believe you. “One hour. One hour and you’ll be asleep.”

You sat down on the floor, back up against the bed and cracked open the plastic container of fried rice, before rummaging through the bag to pull out the two crab rangoons you had gotten on the side. Not even using a plate, you bit into one, savoring the fried goodness. “Sleep is for the weak. You know, as the strongest Avenger... shit.” You looked down at your shirt, where filling from the crab rangoon had fallen. “Shit.”

“You were saying?” Wanda asked, sitting down across from you, passing you a napkin before you even asked. She looked around the small Airbnb, taking it all  as she ate, looking out the window behind you, where the city lights appeared almost frozen in the chilled air outside. “Well... Happy Valentine’s Day,” she said, and as you dabbed at your shirt with the napkin, you realized that her eyes were on you.

“Oh, yeah,” you said, laughing. “What a way to spend it.”

“Rude,” she said, completely deadpan, causing you to look and see the twinkle in her eyes. “I’m kidding.”

“I meant the fact that we’re stuck on a mission!  Not because--”

“--you’re stuck here with me?” Wanda asked, clicking her tongue as she opened her water bottle and cocked her head with an easy smile. “Has anyone told you what a charmer you are, y/n?”

“All the time,” you said, pushing down the butterflies in your stomach, the way she was looking at you making you feel pinned down to the spot, unable to move. Lightheaded, even. “Yeah, had tons of dates lined up back in New York before this mission came up.”

“Mm. Sure.”

The conversation moved on and you relaxed again, back into the normal, joking persona you used to deflect any other feelings you may be having. You discussed the mission, movies that you loved, the tiny dog you saw on your way back to the apartment, Tony’s faux pas in the meeting the other week, the two of you laughing as you recalled Steve’s expressions and Tony’s attempted recovery.

You leaned your head against the bed, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye as you tried to stop laughing and throw away the trash from your dinner, collecting Wanda’s as well and washing out the containers at the sink. “If they ever crack time travel, that’s the first place I’m going,” you said. “February 6th, 2016. Noon. The Avengers Compound. The conference room. Just to see that play out one more time.”

Wanda sat down on the bed, and even though you had shared a bed before (as teammates, we’re teammates) something felt different as she turned on the television and flipped through the channels while you finished washing up. You paused in the kitchen alcove, away in the dark, biting your lip as you stared down at the floor. It’s all in your head. Just act normal. You’re friends. Teammates. Nothing’s changed.

With an quiet sigh, you returned to the main area and changed into more comfortable clothes before opening up your laptop on the desk and tuning into Natasha and Steve’s comms. Avoidance. That’s what you did, that’s what you always did. You looked out the window as Wanda got changed for bed, the comms silent and the TV chattering quietly in the background, the lights going out one by one until the room was only illuminated by the television and your screen. You rubbed your tired eyes with your thumb and index finger and looked back at the bed to see Wanda watching you.

“Hi,” you said, though it came out more like a question.

“Hey,” she said, and the butterflies started again as time seemed to stop entirely. She lifted up the corner of the comforter, inviting you in. “I know you’re tired. I’m sure Steve and Natasha can handle whatever comes up just fine.” You looked back at the laptop, and just as you did so, it close with a click, red energy dissipating around you. Wanda laughed, and you glanced over at her shyly, more shy than you had even been in your life.

“I’ll rest, but I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep,” you mumbled, staring at the floor as you walked over to her and climbed in. “Why do I feel like this is a trap?”

“Probably because it is,” she replied, wrapping her arm around you and turning you to face her, Wanda’s hair tickling the side of your face as your breath hitched in your throat.

“Oh. Hi,” you said again, laughing, not sure what else to say, your brain completely shutting down. “Did you... did you read my mind earlier?” you murmured, lifting your head up.

“With you, I don’t have to,” Wanda said. “You’re not exactly subtle.” She smiled a little. “Even though I know you try very hard to be.”  Her green eyes were wide, as if she had just asked a question and was waiting for an answer.

It only took you a second to answer, you closing the gap between the two of you as you kissed her, feeling her widening smile against your lips as she kissed you back, placing her hand on the side of your face, your cheek warm and tingly just from her touch.

Her kisses were slow, tender, as if you two had all the time in the world, tucked away on that snowy February night. When the two of you separated, both of you started giggling again, her laying back on her pillow and pulling you down with her, hand just below your ribcage and you curled up next to her. Her thumb rubbed gently near your lowest rib, back and forth, back and forth.

“I’m... not to change the subject like this,” she said, “but what the hell is that?” she said gesturing at the television, where some extreme lifestyle show was playing out, sending you two into another fit of laughter, the absurd late night program only adding to the strangeness of it all. 

“You put it on!” you exclaimed, your head tucked just below her chin, her laughter coming from her chest and resonating in your head.

“Honestly? I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“Well, don’t turn it off,” you said, yawning and shutting your eyes. “This is... absolutely riveting.”

“Thought you said you weren’t going to sleep,” Wanda teased, her hand combing through your hair as she placed another kiss to your forehead, causing your cheeks to flush again. 

“Well, you trapped me, so I guess I have no choice,” you joked drowsily. “Guess I’ll have to sleep.” You opened your eyes, tilting your head to look up at her. “Um... Happy Valentine’s Day.” There was so much more you wanted to tell her, but for now it was all you could muster. “I’m glad I’m spending it with you.”

“Me too.”

[bloomingjungwon]

please write a heeseung college!au !!!! ♡♡

college!au heeseung

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: thank you for requesting! sorry if this is so long, i kind of got carried away and i was kind of inspired by one of my favorite blogger's writing style

major: cinematography (don't ask why, i can just imagine him being so into making motion pictures)

he'd probably minor in like north american or woman studies tbh

i can see him as a really quiet, doesn't involve himself in too many things, kind of student

doesn't really speak up when it isn't needed

but if it's a topic he's really familiar with, you can't shut him up

definitley the type of student to sit in the very front even if the classroom has like a billion seats left open

i also see him as the type to never be in the library, he usually just studies out on the grass or in a very underrated cafe.

lives off of coffee to the point his roomate!jake tells him he smells like coffee 25/8

you know how gym freaks take a shot of like protein powder before their workout? yeah that's him but with ground up coffee beans if he is in a rush and doesn't want to wait for his coffee to brew.

it's kinda funny, you don't know heeseung, and he doesn't know you. but you pass each other almost everyday because you also go to the same cafe as him.

like youre always leaving as he enters and like????

hello how r u not noticing such an amazing human being

but dont worry, ya'll meet some day

you're walking across your campus and the bulletin board catches your attention

amongst all the papers screaming "tutor needed" or "join our club", theres a flier SMACK DAB in the middle

"class do20 presents mini films at flint theatre this friday!"

and like, that peaks your interests

because you've always appreciated people's works

but you're kinda just standing in the middle of the walkway and staring at it , you don't realize someone standing next to you

"are you going to go and watch?"

you nearly jumped out of your skin cause like, who tf just talks to someone without getting their attention first

heeseung does

and now he's just staring at you waiting for an answer

"uh,, yeah seems kind of interesting. why? are you?"

"i have no choice to. i'm a part of it, i just haven't started on my film yet."

.... homie, the show is on friday and it's currently tuesday

silence

no words or expressions are exchanged and you're just staring awkwardly at each other

but in reality, you two are just silently admiring each other's features

"do you want to be a part of my film?"

your blank expression turned into a "wtf" kind of expression

"you want me, a complete stranger, to be a part of your film?"

he proceeds to tell you that it'll be a lot easier for him to work with a stranger since he'd most likely not mess around

because this boy needs to get his assignment done asap

and you kind of hesitate but then you're like "well, fuck it. sure"

and then he smiles. and holy

this guy has one of the most captivating smiles ever and you literally feel your heart stop for a small second

"let's get started today, if that's okay with you?" he suggests

and you agree and tell him you have one more class, but he can meet you at a cafe you're usually at

and now it's his turn for his heart to skip a beat because he's talking to an attractive person who just willingly agreed to help him on his project AND goes to the same underrated cafe???

but before he can say anything.. you're already walking away

and now he's just standing there dumb and love struck

but yeah heeseung is already at the cafe thirty min early while he waits for you, camera out facing the door, waiting for you to enter

catches you on film as you walk inside and he kinda just watches you in awe as you're scanning the room to find where he is

you give him a small smile and wave and in that moment, heeseung knew what title he was giving his film

you take your seat and you're like "so, what would you like me to do?"

and heeseung just asks you to do whatever you would usually do at the cafe

and you're like oh sweet. that's easy.

so you ask him what kind of coffee he wants and when he tells you, you stand up to leave and order coffee

he films everything

from you standing in line awkwardly, you picking at your nails, scrolling through your phone, ordering... literally everything

you come back holding both cups (which of course he films too)

"i usually just do my homework while i'm here, but i don't have a lot today"

"that's fine. you can just do it, and if it's okay, i can ask you questions to get to know you better."

"yeah that's okay with me. i can multitask well. i think."

that earns you a chuckle from him

he angles the camera at the end of the end of the table, focusing on you

and ya'll just do homework together and learn new things about each other

like how you eat pizza with a fork and knife because you refuse to get your hands dirty

which heeseung reacts with "do you need professional help?"

but homie blurts out he lives and breathes off of ramen noodles and his roomate!jake has to restock for him every two days

and you're like.... "you're the one who needs professional help."

and for a couple hours

you guys are just goofing around and talking to each other as if you've known each other for years

homework done, three cups of coffee later, heeseung's camera runs out of battery so he calls it a day

chooses the next location to film

a dog park

so the next day, classes done, you meet him at the dog park, and even brought your dog

films you throwing tennis balls, petting dogs, and even you getting chased by a dog

laughs throughout the whole filming process but then internally regrets it because he notices it could probably be heard in the video

breaks it to you that he has enough content for his project

and lowkey youre kind of sad because you've had fun being around him the past two days but you keep it to yourself

"i'm glad i could help. i can't wait to see it heeseung."

loves the way you say his name and now he's sad too because he doesn't really have an excuse to hang out with you more

so ya'll part ways after saying bye

but it's not some dramatic "i'm never going to see them again"

cause ya'll run into each other again at the cafe the next day

and it's kind of unspoken but ya'll just silently agree to sit down with each other and work on homework

you, reading out of your textbook, and him working diligently on his laptop (shh he's editing his film)

and you kind of steal glances his way and he's just smiling to himself as he works

and that's because he loves the way his film is coming along, and he loves seeing you

because in that moment, you both realize you have feelings for each other

but once again it's unspoken cause you're both scaredy cats

you call it a day and say bye and him back

you guys don't see each other until the night of the film show

and you're like okay i'll tell him i have feelings for him after the show

little did you know, he was thinking the same thing about you

but he's up in the film booth sweating his ass off because he knows you're somewhere in the crowd

and all of a sudden he doesn't want to be there

"what if they don't like me in that way?" "what if they take my video the wrong way?"

internally and externally panics

but before he can grab his cd and break it, the lights turn off and oh shit the show is starting

tbh, the films from the other students were quite interesting and you were enjoying each one

but this uncomfortable feeling was forming in the pit of your stomach

were you anxious? nervous?

idk but you were anticipating heeseung's film

and finally on the screen appeared heeseung's picture and biography

you didn't even notice the smile growing on your face

you thought to yourself, what did he even name his film?

"love through my eyes"

....love??

does heeseung have feelings for me too? or did they switch up someone's film with his??

but nope, there was no switch up

you watched yourself on the screen, from you smiling at him at the first moments in the cafe, to you laughing at his eating habits, and to you being chased by the dog, audibly hearing heeseung's giggles

but you thought it was over until there were more clips of the both of you in the cafe

however, they weren't from the first meeting. the clothes you both were wearing were different

wait, isn't this from two days ago? he filmed us that day?

from a hidden angle, the camera caught you two stealing glances at each other when the other wasn't paying attention.

you looked at him with stars in your eyes, and when you went back to your textbook, he stole glances at you as if your were his entire universe

speechless, the film ended, and with his film being last, the show ended and the lights turned back on

you didn't even applaud, for you ran out of the building immediatley, looking for heeseung

and there he is at the entrance of the theatre just staring at his feet

looks up when you hear him running up to him

"so... the film" he starts

but you don't let him finish because you pull him by the shirt and kiss him

and he's shocked because what the fuck they're kising me?!?!

but relaxes and kisses you back

and yeah, that's how your relationship starts

and expect him to film you at random times

would probably treasure "love through my eyes" and play it as a surprise at your guys' wedding in the future

im crying

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

The Long Con Part Seven

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader Rating: T Notes: I hope y’all had a good week! 💕 Warnings: Oh hey look, more fluff! With a pinch of self-doubt! SO Sorry about that. Summary: You'd told Marcus at the start of this to treat it like an undercover assignment, and maybe he really was going the distance— treating this like an operation, putting himself into the mindset first thing in the morning.

Jill had been up with the sun, preparing food for the barbecue that afternoon. You’d made it a point to set your alarm to get up early and offer your help. But it had taken you a little while to get out of bed.

You and Marcus had been sleeping in bed together for the past three nights. You had been a little nervous at the beginning, sure - you hadn’t shared a bed with anyone for a while. But Marcus was the perfect gentleman when he was awake. The day you'd made the favor bags, you'd awoken to Marcus’ body had been curled around yours. His hand was resting lightly atop your hip, a touch that had been easy for you to draw yourself out from under. But this morning… This morning, you’d woken up cuddled up against Marcus. You were curled up against his side, your arm stretched across his middle. When you’d glanced up, you’d found Marcus just coming up from sleep, himself. Rather than moving away, you’d found yourself frozen, like he’d suddenly spot you if you moved. Marcus had just glanced down at you, murmured a soft, "Good morning,", and smiled sleepily, asking if you’d slept well as his hand had smoothed over your arm.  You’d relaxed a little, nodded, and rested your chin on Marcus’ chest. His sleepy smile had widened, his fingers trailing aimlessly over the back of your hand as the two of you had chatted about the last couple of days. You’d already shut off your alarm, knew that you should get up, and help Jill - that was why you’d set the alarm in the first place. But you were so comfortable, and Marcus seemed more than happy to let lay there and soak up some of his warmth. You did finally manage to pull yourself out of his arms, shower and dress. You’d settled on the edge of the bed to pull on your socks and house slippers. Marcus had cuddled up to you, still sleep-ruffled as he toyed with a loose strong on your shirt and chatted with you. It was another ten minutes before you’d managed to get yourself downstairs. -- Marcus' easy touches and your murmured conversations weighed heavily on your mind all morning. You'd told Marcus at the start of this to treat it like an undercover assignment, and maybe he really was going the distance— treating this like an operation, putting himself into the mindset first thing in the morning. And if he was— well, you couldn't fault him for it. It had been your advice, after all.

When Marcus had made it into the kitchen, finally, he found you at the counter with Jill and Marnie. After you’d offered your services, you’d been given your pick of the spare aprons and put to work chopping potatoes for the potato salad. Marcus crowded up behind you, resting his hands on your hips and his forehead on your shoulder as he’d waited for the coffee to brew (between yourself and Marnie, you’d wiped out the previous pot before he could make it downstairs). “You excited for later?” He asked softly as he shifted to rest his chin where his forehead had been. “Mhm,” You hummed softly, eyes set on your work, fingers working steadily at your task, “Are you?” “Sure,” He conceded, “Be nice to see some old friends...Family…” You glanced at Marcus, holding a chopped piece of cooked potato up to his lips. He hummed, sucking it from between your fingertips. Your skin prickled with heat as his lips brushed against the pad of your finger. “Thanks,” He mumbled around the tiny morsel before he’d turned his head, nuzzling into your neck. You’d felt the looks that Jill and Marnie were giving you, heard one of them murmur, “Adorable”. Marcus’ hands squeezed lightly at your hips, like a silent, ‘They’re buying it’. You tipped your head to the side, lightly resting your head against his for a few seconds before straightening up again. They were buying it. And if you weren’t careful, you were going to start buying it, too. 

--

It was times like this that you could tell Marcus was glad that you’d made it a point to practice your story as much as you had. Maybe he was starting to treat it like the two of you were undercover, but there was still that half-second panicked squeezing of your hand before he answered a question about your ‘relationship’. The two of you had gotten pretty good at this, though, and by the time the barbecue was in full swing, you were casually draped over one another, finishing the other’s sentences, leaning into endearments like, ‘honey’ and ‘sweetheart’ and, once, from you, ‘darling’. And maybe you should’ve felt a little bad, if only for the way some of Marcus’ family was cooing over the two of you, teasing him for being so lovestruck, but with Marcus, it was just so goddamn...easy. Everything felt so easy. When he tucked you under his arm, you felt like you fit perfectly into his side; you didn’t worry about the fact that you knew so few people. You didn’t stress yourself out about remembering names because, after the wedding, you were probably never going to see them again. “You doin’ okay?” You asked lightly, rubbing Marcus’ back gently as one of the members of his old band stepped away from you to get some food. “Yeah,” He nodded, “I uh… I think I’m alright. Are you?” “You haven’t cut off the circulation in my hand yet, so, yeah,” You teased, “I’m good.” Marcus chuckled, leaning in and brushing a kiss to your temple before he turned, looking around. You felt him go tense, and you frowned. “What is it?” “Uh… Spotted someone.” “Ex-wife?” “No. The...The woman Marnie was going to set me up with.” “Ah,” You glanced around Marcus, spotting the woman coming toward you. She was just a bit shorter than you, with bright red hair curled expertly around a diamond shaped face. Her eyes were slate grey— and focused in on the two of you.  “She’s hot,” You muttered. “Not that it’s a contest, but you’re hotter.” “Really taking this lie for a ride, huh?” Marcus’ brow furrowed, frowning down at you. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, you heard, “Marcus! I thought you might be around here somewhere.” And her voice was so shrill. You gave Marcus a teasing look before he turned to face her. “Couldn’t miss my sister’s wedding,” He gave an awkward little laugh, the likes of which you’d never heard. It looked like the woman wanted to step in for a hug, but her eyes darted to you before she could get too close. You gave her a bright smile as awkward silence persisted between the two of them. “Oh-- Sorry,” Marcus laughed as he introduced you, “Sweetheart, this is Kimberly. She used to live right down the block, and we went to Quantico together.” “Aw, neat, so you’re in law enforcement too, huh?” You smiled, draping your arm around Marcus’ middle once you’d let go of Kimberly’s hand. Her eyes darted to your arm, then up to Marcus’ face. You glanced between the two of them before straightening up. “You know what? Why don’t I let the two of you catch up,” You looked up at Marcus, “I will go see if your mom needs any help-- You need a drink or anything?” “N-No,” Marcus shook his head a little bit, but you could see the slight panic in his eyes. “Okay!” You could see the smile on Kimberly’s smile - a presumption that she’d managed to scare you off. So you turned, cupping Marcus’ neck and drawing him down for a kiss. You could feel him smiling against your lips, and you ran your thumb along his jaw as you sucked his lower lip between yours. You grinned at the sound of a soft, awed moan that left him, feeling his hand curl in the fabric of your dress before you leaned away. Marcus looked a little dazed, his grasp on you showing no sign of loosening, even as you reached up to lightly smear away some of your lipstick that had transferred onto his lips.   “Not quite your shade, babe,” You teased, winking at him. You lowered your hand, patting his chest lightly and turning back to an infuriated Kimberly and offering her a bright smile. “You two have fun!” -- Jill didn’t need any help, so you grabbed a beer for yourself and stepped over to a quiet corner of the porch and taken your phone out. You set the beer on the wide porch rail as you opened an email to answer. “That has to be the shortest conversation I’ve ever had with her,” You heard behind you. You smiled, finishing the email you were typing before glancing back at Marcus. “So? How’d it go?” You asked, turning to face Marcus and leaning back against the porch railing. “Well,” Marcus said thoughtfully, placing his hand on either side of you as he crowded up against you, “We made about two minutes of incredibly awkward small talk, she asked if I’d known you long and then left to get some potato salad.” “Damn,” You sighed, shaking your head a little bit, “I am...Good.” “You might actually be the best,” Marcus conceded. You smiled as he smoothed a hand over your side. “And that was… Some kiss,” He added softly. You smiled, licking your lips.  “Yeah, you seemed to like it. I mean, it was vindicating, what with my being so out of practice.” “If that’s you out of practice, I can’t imagine how proficient you are when you’re in top form.” You smiled a bit, drawing your lower lip between your teeth. Your stomach fluttered as Marcus’ eyes lowered to your mouth. He raised his hand, cupping your cheek and using his thumb to pull your lip from between your teeth. Your stomach fluttered as you felt Marcus' leg slide between yours, your chests brushing together. You’d noticed that, unlike other aspects of the lie, Marcus’ smiles and touches and kisses felt different. When Marcus leaned in for a kiss, there was no squeezing of your hand, no half-second of hesitation, no panic. When Marcus kissed you, it always felt so damnably real. He slipped his lips across yours before sucking your lower lip between his, as you had to him before. You sighed softly, raising your arm and looping it around Marcus’ neck and sliding your hand over the nape. You smiled as Marcus pressed you against the porch railing, arm curling around your upper back. You kept your eyes closed as the kiss broke. Marcus didn’t stray, just brushed another kiss against your lips, then another before he rested his forehead against yours. “Any better?” You teased softly. “Better and better,” He murmured, “Every time.” You lowered your head, lightly butting your head against Marcus’ jaw as sheepishness twisted your lips into a smile. Tag list: @hufflepuffing-all-day-long ; @spideysimpossiblegirl ; @blueeyesatnight ; @elen-aranel ; @yespolkadotkitty ; @artsymaddie​ ; @phoenixhalliwell​ ; @lunaserenade​ ; @winniedaboo​  ; @empress-palpat1ne​ ; @randomness501​ ; @nutmeg-20​ ; @leonieb​ ; @the-feckless-wonder​ ; @lou-la-lou​ ; @captain-jebi​ ; @supernaturalgirl​ ; @naturenebula21​ ; @evelynseventyr​ ; @giselatropicana​ ; @heatherbel​ ; @marydjarin​ ; @annathewitch​ ; @absurdthirst​ ; @hnt-escape ; @writingletterstothefire​ ; @misswriter​ ; @bison-writes​ ; @xx-small-town-witch-xx​ ; @ajeff855​ ; @hellovanessax

[holykillercake]

FRIED EGGS

KOBY x Pirate!Reader

word count: 2k

summary: Being infiltrated as a Marine and keeping your feelings under control was easy until you were assigned to work with Marine Captain Koby. How you wished he was a jerk.

highlight: ¨I am kissing you... but I am angry, Y/N-san...¨

warnings: read under the risk of developing diabetes.

notes: Hey, guys! This was a lovely request from @pure-kirarin! <3 I had to stop other projects to make this one because Koby threw me out of my comfort zone hahaha I really hope you like!! ALSO 1) Happy Birthday Sabo-kun! ALSO 2) In order to add more dept to the story, the main character is part of a Yonkos´crew, but I wrote in a way that all fit, so choose your favorite! ALSO 3) ART ALERT!

Leave comments, hearts and love!

¨You have been doing a remarkable job in such little time, Commander L/N. We all have great expectations regarding your transference to our Marine Headquarters.¨ 

The words of the Rear Admiral barely scratched your mind as you discreetly observed the pink-haired boy´s reflection on the crystal clear window. 

He maintained a similar posture to yours: chin up, chest out, shoulders back, and stomach in. However, while your fingers remained paralleled to your trousers, you took a glimpse of his clenched fist, thumb fidgeting the side of his index finger. 

¨Vice Admiral Tsuru was reluctant to sign your transfer. She said you remind her of herself in the past, which is always an excellent compliment to hear.¨ you nodded, acknowledging his words  ¨We´re glad we convinced her.¨

Your heart warmed with his words, and you almost felt bad because you knew the disappointing outcome O-Tsuru-san would have at the end of this. She trained you with the iron face of a merciless soldier, and the elegance that resembled the animal of her name.

It has been three years since you received the green card from your captain to part ways in a long-term solo mission. A journey to excavate the putrid secrets of the so-called defenders of the law. You learned after a short time that justice is not so black and white.

Not that you planned to reveal the dirt, no. That intel your captain could sell to the Revolutionary Army and keep the capital running. You were interested in the arms race, the corrupt diplomacy, and more importantly, the dark pipes where traitors flowed.

Someone from inside the Yonkos was feeding the Marines with crucial information about the Emperors´ activities. And in such a close fight, you could not take those risks.

All other Emperors must have their own undercover agents within the Marines, but even that was a dispute. You could point some names to your boss, who confirmed what was suspected. Those would usually be the best of the best, extravagant and loud.

But not you. You didn't have to make that much noise. You slid between the floors of New Marineford like a snake swimming with the current. Earning the respect of your superiors and being promoted without ringing any bells. You accepted each medal with a firm salutation and relentless performance. 

¨The trip must have been displeasing. Submerging ten thousand meters underwater and rising to these fiendish waters require a good rest. Our Marine Captain Koby will escort you to your quarters, Commander Y/N. The remaining instructions shall be presented tomorrow.¨

You saluted the Rear Admiral in front of you and turned to the exit, passing by Koby, who waited for you to leave first.  When your paths crossed, the pace of your heartbeats quickened, pumping more blood through your body and leaving a burning sensation on your cheeks. 

The involuntary response was instantly interpreted as alertness to danger, which needed to be handled with caution. 

Can´t let my guard down around this one, you thought.

In fact, you planned to keep as much distance as you could from him. An officer let slip that he has been gaining incredible control over his Observation Haki since the Paramount War. 

But the wind seemed to change direction, and you began to swim against the current. When the morning came, you were assigned to be his partner for an undetermined time, and he would act as your superior. The idea of being bossed around by a younger marine got your temper sparked. 

Only he was not like the others, treating you in a patronizing and condescending way. He spoke to you with the same cordiality and politeness he addressed everybody else. 

Slowly, your concrete cold expression began to soothe. You would still remind yourself how annoying his good manners were, though. So annoying, seriously!

¨Good morning, Y/N-san!¨ he greeted as you joined him for breakfast. 

¨Good morning, Koby.¨ 

¨Our Border Force correspondent sent his report early in the morning with information about possible Yonkos´ alliances in the Wano Country. We are arranging a meeting as soon as possible.¨ 

You didn´t like to handle work so early, but this subject, in particular, raised your spirits. ¨Good. It was about time.¨

You noticed that he wore a different headband. ¨What happened?¨ 

¨Hm?¨ he brought the soup bowl close to his mouth. 

¨The bandana. Green, with the fried eggs.¨ he choked on the miso soup, coughing like he had swallowed poison. 

You reached for a paper tissue and handed it to him. ¨K-Koby, are you ok?¨

¨Y-Y/N... Y/N-san...¨ he coughed some more ¨They´re not... fried eggs...¨

¨Oh...¨ your brows raised slightly ¨What are they?¨

A depressive aura grew around him ¨They are flowers, YN-san...¨

The edge of your lips contorted as you tried to hide a smile. You haven´t felt like smiling genuinely for years. Annoying boy!

From that moment on, ignoring him became more difficult. He started to ask you to train with him or invite you to spend some time with him and Helmeppo whenever you had free time. Eventually, he began to ask you how he looked before an important meeting. 

Most of the time, you would reply something like ¨ok¨. But sometimes, the mouth was quicker than the brain, and you would let an ¨impeccable¨ slip out, followed by an awkward throat clearing and blushed cheeks. 

From both sides.

•

¨Oh my-¨ you stopped yourself from finishing the sentence. 

You were chosen to complete this mission due to your excellent skills in hiding emotions and acting calm under stressful situations. No one could break you. 

Within the Marines, no joke could make you crack a smile, and no torture could make you spill secrets. 

Why did you want to ask if he was ok?

Koby had entered his office with bumps and bloody bruises over his face. His always neat uniform was blotchy, and he carried a first aid kit. 

¨Garp-san paid a visit.¨ He sat on the couch and opened the white box, throwing everything on the coffee table. ¨I bet it wasn't like this with Tsuru-san.¨ he chuckled. 

¨No. She would beat me up, wash me and hang me up to dry.¨ 

You shot from the chair, moving towards the clumsy pinkette, who struggled to attend to his injuries. He tried to hold the mirror with one hand and suture his gash with the other. 

¨Thank yo-¨

¨Shh. Don´t move.¨

You leaned closer to have a better look, giving Koby the same chance. Your delicate perfume smelled like it was tailor-made for you. Your breathing was slightly irregular, and your lip twitched with every given stitch. Your fingers felt like feathers on his skin, so much that he didn´t even feel a sting. 

The job was fast and efficient, making Koby wish Garp had put more effort into his Love Fist. Grabbing a piece of wet cotton, you cleaned the dried blood.  

¨Alright...¨ you whispered.

¨Alright...¨ he whispered back.

You were inches apart from his face, your eyes traveling across the scar on his forehead, the pink locks, and kind features. Your mind traced back all the way to the Paramount War. You had very little knowledge about him, but the words he spoke that day have always made your heart pound like cannonballs. 

You will make an excellent Admiral one day, Koby. 

I hope you don´t hate me. 

¨Y-Y/N-san...¨

¨Hm?¨

¨Your smile is beautiful.¨

¨What?¨ The stupid scene of yours was interrupted like a DJ stopping the record player. 

With cheeks getting pinker than his hair, you shot up and marched back to the chair and your newspaper. ¨You clean this up.¨ 

He left a low chuckle out and began gathering the mess. 

Oh, no, Y/N. You have got to be kidding me. 

He is a freaking marine. Breathe. 

There were a vast number of reasons why you couldn´t like him: from him being a Marine Captain and you being a pirate to the fact that your mission was coming to a conclusion.

Meaning that your journey as his partner would be very soon reaching its end. The meeting with this mysterious correspondent regarding the Yonkos´ operations in the New World would be the last move in this chess game. You would be going home. Mission completed. Everything perfect, right? 

Right, perfect. Impeccable! Ugh!

•

¨... confirm secure line.¨

¨This is Border Officer code 404890. Secure line confirmed.¨ you spoke with a low but clear voice through the nail transponder. 

¨What´s the status on our birdie?¨

¨Positive. The birdie is located at 03:24:01.¨ you gave your boss a coordinate to the name of the Marine informant. The answer you took three years to find out remained on file number one, third page, suspect number twenty-four. 

An amused laugh echoed on your end, and you buried the speaker on your jacket to muffled the sound. 

¨At least he is not one of ours.¨ a chuckle ¨Great job, Y/N.¨

¨Thank you, boss.¨

¨I know this mustn't have been easy, but you were impeccable as always.¨

Yeah, impeccable. 

¨You know the protocol now. We´ll see each other in a few days. You´ll have a party waiting for you, kid.¨

¨Aye, aye, boss. But I want the good booze.¨  Both of you laughed. 

You finished the call, and the smile on your lips died as the image of a pink-haired boy invaded your mind. You wished he was a jerk like everybody else. 

It would have been so easy. 

¨Who were you talking to?¨ your chest contracted, pushing the air out of your lungs and sending extra blood supply to your muscles. 

You hid the transponder into your jacket and turned, facing your Marine Captain. 

¨Eavesdropping, Koby?¨

What should I do?

¨Y/N-san, who were you talking to?¨ he repeated himself, offering the benefit of the doubt. You sighed.

¨My captain.¨ 

Why the need to be honest with him?

¨Y/N-san, please don´t tell me-¨

¨I´m sorry, Koby. I wish I didn´t have to do this.¨ you couldn´t bring yourself to face him.

¨A-Are you a pirate? Why?¨

You chuckled ¨Why am I a pirate?¨

¨Why did you do this?¨ his face was pale, making your guts twitch in guilt.

¨I´m on a mission. But I´ll leave soon.¨

¨You are like... Vergo-san.¨ he sounded disappointed.

¨I am nothing like Vergo. You know this.¨ or at least you hoped he did. 

He closed the door slowly, eyes fixed on your figure. The bright light from the window made him look like an ethereal painting.

While you tried to predict his next move, whether he was going to interrogate you or kick your ass, Koby acted calm and collected, not hesitating. He trusted his Observation Haki to guide his next move. Or maybe his heart.

You saw a pink blur closing distance like a missile, and before you could dodge, his hands pulled you by the waist, connecting your bodies and lips. 

He forced your back to meet the thick window with a gasp that was muffled by the kiss. His touch was rough upon the fabric of your uniform, but his mouth felt soft against yours.

Your hands moved to his hair, removing the round pair of glasses and the green bandana so you could get lost in his locks. His grip was harsh under the fabric of your uniform, but his hair felt soft on your fingertips. 

A moan escaped your lips when he parted the kiss with a loud snap and struck the glass with both hands, keeping you trapped in the middle. You let go of his hair and grabbed him by the collar, not letting him go away.

¨I am kissing you... but I am angry, Y/N-san...¨ his breath was heavy and carried with a myriad of emotions. 

¨I know... I am sorry.¨

¨Why?¨

¨Because I like you, Koby. A lot.¨ he paused for a second, fighting the urge to admit the same.

¨What was your mission?¨

This is the last lie, I promise, Koby. ¨The Marines possessed vital information about something my boss wants. I needed to get it.¨

¨Now that I know that you´re a pirate and that you stole Marine´s assets, I´m gonna have to hunt you down.¨

¨I´ll be waiting for you.¨ 

You stared him in the eyes, and he kissed you to stop himself from saying what he really wanted. 

I love you, Y/N-san.

Diary of Koby-Meppo: The Fried Egg Life Crisis.

💕 @vemuabhi

[slytherweasley]

Replacement (Pansy Parkinson x reader)

warnings: swearing

Summary- Pansy gets jealous when Y/n starts to form a friendship with Daphne. Y/n starts to hang out with her more than Pansy. In their dorm room doing homework and playing wizards chess. Like what Y/n and Pansy do.

At the start of the year Snape put you and Daphne Greengrass together as Potions partners. You both had a history of just disliking each other, there was no reason but you just didn’t like each other. After Christmas break you decided that you would have to be civil to get good grades. After talking and doing assignments together you decided to actually be friends.

“Pans, she is so nice. I don’t even know why I hated her in the first place” you tell your girlfriend cuddled up in her bed. “I’m glad you’re getting along then” she smiles. “She’s coming over so we can finish our potions assignment and finish off some potions homework. You can join if you’d like” “I’m a bit tired so I’ll pass” “Here I’ll do some of your potions homework” “No it’s okay but thank you, princess” “Pans I want to help you out” “Alright, just don’t do it all, okay?” “Okay.” Pansy regretted that moment for weeks.

You and Daphne quickly became best friends, you would study together all the time. You and Pansy used to do that together and she started to despise Daphne, the only thing stopping her from ripping her head off was you. After Daphne would leave you would be in such a happy smiley mood and Pansy loved it. “She’s really funny, she was telling me about this time with her sister” Pansy would smile and laugh when she needed to and the last thing she wanted was to break her heart. She knew that if she told Daphne to stop hanging out with you then you’d never forgive her. So Pansy did what was right for once.

Daphne knocks on the door, you get out of Pansy’s bed and open the door, she greets you with a hug. “I’m so ready for this rematch of wizards chess” Daphne says, together you okay for hours while Pansy reads a book, she couldn’t handle seeing her touch your leg or play with your hair. Pansy is a very jealous person. “I’ll see you tomorrow” Daphne kisses your cheek on the way out and Pansy shuts her book so quickly.

“What was that?” She says angrily “What’s the matter, love?” “She kissed your cheek” you chuckle getting into bed with her. “It’s what straight girl friends do, trust me it’s normal. And Daphne is as straight as a ruler” “Well you’re not straight” “Trust me Pans, I think I know that” “I hate it when she touches your leg or your arm or she plays with your hair or fixes it. That’s my job not hers.”

You give her a kind smile “It’s different with girls and guys, Pans. You’ve got all guy friends, if they want to do all that stuff with you I’m okay with that.” “That is so different” “Thats not at all different!” “I’m a lesbian, that would cause no sexual desire for me.” “I’m not sexually attracted to Daphne” “So you’re just attracted to her?” “No! She is my best friend.” “I thought I was your best friend” “You are, sorry darling. She’s my good friend” “I’m sorry too princess, I know she’s your friend but it’s too easy to get jealous.”

The weekend comes around and you have plans with Daphne, she comes over early to do your makeup. Pansy is still sleeping so you both try to keep quiet, your other dorm mates have already left. “She gets grumpy if you wake her up early on the weekend, so be quiet.”

Daphne accidentally trips you and you both start to giggle waking up Pansy. “Y/n?” Pansy calls out “I’m so sorry, bubs. I didn’t mean to wake you up” you stand by her bed and she notices the makeup. “Where are you going?” “Hogsmeade trip with Daph” “Can I come?” “I’m so sorry, we have to go” Daphne says, “I’ll be quick” “We have to go now, I’ll see you later. I love you.” Pansy doesn’t say it back and they walk out.

She gets mad so naturally she goes to rant. She gets changed and goes down to the common room where her group of friends are sitting on the couch. “Good morning Pansy, you look happy” Draco says sarcastically “Shut up I’m sad and angry” “Are you on your period again?” Crabbe says and the boys laugh. “I want to rant, so you’re going to listen and you’re going to shut up until I can say you can talk, got it?” They nod their heads.

She sits beside Blaise on the couch facing Draco, Crabbe and Goyle. “As you know Daphne has stolen my girlfriend from me and I’m about to kill her after this morning.” “What happened?” Draco asks “I’m about to tell you. This morning I wake up to Y/n on the floor laughing with that bitch, Y/n is the sweetest as usual, being all cute. Then I ask if I can come and I say I’ll be quick and Daphne says no and basically influences Y/n to tell me no. Y/n almost never tells me no. Now you can talk.”

“Well maybe they needed to be there by a certain time” Goyle suggests “No, because it was only an hour ago people are still leaving to go to Hogsmeade now. Do you think she will tell Y/n to break up with me?” “No, Y/n would never do that. She is a Slytherin so she knows how to take care of herself” Blaise says. “I know but she’s not one of us, she’s sometimes easily influenced” “Well you’re a very good convincer maybe it’s just you.” “What do I do?” “Talk to her obviously, maybe tell her all of this.”

Pansy waits all day for them to come back after dinner. “Y/n let’s talk” Pansy holds your hand “Here?” “No our dorm” “Just wait outside, Daph” “No, don’t. Actually don’t bother waiting for her again, just leave her alone.” Pansy takes you upstairs and slams the door shut “That was rude” “I don’t care” “What’s your problem?” “Y/n I miss you.” “I’m here now, we can spend the whole night doing whatever you want, I promise.” “No! I miss the old you, before you spent all your time with Daphne. I tried so hard for weeks to be happy for you but I can’t when I get no time with you. It used to be just you and me and now it’s you and Daphne and I am by myself.”

“I’m sorry you feel like that but I want to spend more time with my new friend, we have done so much together I want to do it with my new best friend.” “I should be your girlfriend, more important than your best friend. I always made sure you felt included when I would hang out with Draco and my other friends. You haven’t even asked if I wanted to hang out too” “I would but Daphne doesn’t like you, she thinks you’re rude” “And you still want to be friends with someone who doesn’t like me, your girlfriend?” “I’m sorry, I really like Daphne. She’s a good friend and she’s the only one I can connect with on similar interests.”

Pansy starts to tear up “I try my hardest to listen to you talk about everything you love and I’ll try harder, I want you back Y/n and I want her gone.” You had never made Pansy cry before, Pansy is tough and she rarely cries so it hurt. You didn’t know what to say “Fine, don’t try to find me or apologise because I won’t hear it.” She pushes past you and spends the night in Draco’s dorm.

You put on one of Pansy’s jumpers and try to fall asleep but it’s hard when you’re not in her arms like every night. The next morning you tell Daphne that you need to stop hanging out so much and you walk around looking for Pansy. You find her in the common room with her friends “Pans?” “Go away, I meant what I said yesterday” “I didn’t, I told Daphne we shouldn’t hang out as much” “Bye Y/n.” You go to the library to calm down.

“Pansy, she seems really upset” “Since when do you care what other people feel, Malfoy?” “We both know she doesn’t deserve that. She loves you a lot and after you told her you don’t like her she broke it off.” “I told you what she said to me, am I supposed to pretend she didn’t tell me she was sick of hanging out with me?” “She didn’t say that” “She meant it.”

After talking to Draco she realised how important you were to her. You walk back from the library and through the common room, Pansy isn’t in there so you assume she’s in your dorm. You go to your dorm and Pansy’s in there reading as always. “Y/n!” She gets up and gives you a hug. “Im sorry, I love you” “I love you too Pans and you were right to be mad” “Let’s just agree to keep things normal” “And to be each other’s number one priority” you agree.

You cuddle on Pansy’s bed. “I love you so much Princess, it’s so nice to be able to do this without any secrets.” “I love you more, so much” Pansy kisses your cheek “Also I still don’t like Daphne” “I know.” You kiss her cheek “Dont ever change, okay? I love your stubborn, beautiful, smart self” “If you love me I’ll never change, promise.”