#pour one out for the boat boys

[bidoofenergy]

atmospheric music has been very important this season time for a playlist i guess

[kimhargreeves]

Saved Again-Sanji x Fem Reader (One Piece Netflix)

Summary: You've been Luffy's friend for years. Being the first member to join Luffy's crew, together they are off to become pirates,.later on a certain chef has his eyes on you. And a fond memory of you and a boy after a shipwreck comes to mind when arriving at the Baratie.

(A/N: I'm so excited for the One Piece live action do I decided to write this!! I'll start on a Part 2 once the series is released. I absolutely love Sanji and he's my favorite of the Straw Hats. I relate to him a lot too since I was training to become a chef as well…anyways the one shot might be slightly changed once I watch the series.)

(A/N: Oh and also the reader is often confused as a boy but Nami and Sanji know she's a girl.)

"That's why I'm gonna be king of the pirates!!" Luffy exclaimed enthusiastically, even though we were in the middle of nowhere.

I turned around and frowned looking at him being too cheery and loud as usual. "Can you be any louder?' I glare before pulling my head out of the small boat we were in and I continued to throw up out into the ocean.

I heard a hum coming from Luffy and saw him tilting his head a bit. "Are you sure you're okay?"

This is the downside of wanting to become a pirate and sail across the Grand Line. Well, not many people get sea sick and start to pour their guts out.

I wipe the sweat off my forehead and sighed. "If only Coby didn't accept in becoming a Marine. He would've maybe given me some of the medicine he was carrying."

"He did offer some yet you said you'd be alright without it." Luffy reminds me making me groan.

"Don't make me throw up on you." I warn.

"Will you two shut up already?" I glared and looked back at the green haired man who I forgot had joined us.

"Huh? Why don't you make me, Zoro? Our friend here might be dying." Luffy said patting my back a bit too rough.

Zoro looked at us with a bored expression on his face and went back to closing his eyes. "You guys are insufferable, would've been nicer if I was still tied up."

I point and glared at him. "You should be thankful that we saved your ass."

"Luffy was the one who did. You're too weak to save anyone anyway, kid."

"I'm not a kid! I'm older than you think believe it or not!!" I shout getting defensive and forgetting that I had be throwing up.

"Then why are you acting like a kid?!"

"Guys will you stop arguing for once?" Luffy said stepping between us and calming Zoro as well when we saw an island up ahead.

Idiots are they really dumb and don't know I am secretly a girl. The reason why I like to crossdress if for fun, but mostly because I've seen the way pirates who are men are more respected.

I once had cut my hair short but decided to let it grow and use a wig instead, besides being in disguise had helped me with stealing from people.

Luffy with his devil fruit power stretched all the way until his feet hit the sand and he looked around in enthusiasm.

"Wow this island seems so cool! But why is it so quiet?!" He asked loudly.

"Maybe this is an island inhabited with ghosts." I muttered and heard Zoro scoff and began to grab his swords when the boat hit the sand below us.

Zoro jumped off of the boat and began to follow Luffy. "Hey, (Y/N). Are you coming or staying?"

I raised my head and tilted my head looking at Luffy. "You guys can go on ahead. I'll catch up with you."

He nodded and I saw both guys beginning to walk further into the island. Slowly I got up on my feet and jumped out of the boat as well. I was deep in my thoughts imagining what it will be like to travel across the world and get to know other famous pirates.

Luffy's dream has always been to become king of the pirates and his number 1 person he's always looked up to was Shanks, maybe Gold D. Roger in second place.

As for me..I really don't have a dream. I've just been following Luffy around. I don't have a family. Shanks was the one who raised me along with Luffy, I came along later in the picture and don't have any memories of my past, only a few glimpses here and there but maybe it's just me reliving someone else's dream.

"So he's also a devil fruit user?"

I stopped walking and ran to hide behind a building and I looked over and saw a group of pirates, my eyes were set on the one between all of them. Buggy the clown. I've seen his Wanted poster.. wait!

My eyes widened and then I glared when I spotted Luffy in a cage. Are you serious?! He got caught..huh? I looked and saw someone else with them too, a red headed girl.

Where is Zoro anyways?

I frowned even more when I saw he and Luffy were caught. God damn it. It's up to me now, now all I gotta do is find out if this girl is an enemy of ally.

I got out of my hiding place and prepared to face the gang of pirate clowns…

"Hang on!!"

Someone shouted and tried to reach for my hands but I was pulled away by the harsh tides of the sea. My eyes and lungs began to sting, I felt like it was the end for me. Just a few minutes ago I was with my family, are they dead? Will I die as well and meet them again?

I couldn't swim so I felt myself sinking lower into the dark cold sea. I wanted to cry but couldn't and right when I was ready accept my death I felt someone grab onto me and I was being pulled up again.

I gasped along with the person who had saved me. A man about the same age as my dad saved me, I continued to gasp and began to cough up the salty water I had in my lungs.

The sky was dark with clouds covering the sky, it was heavily raining with thunder.

"Don't die just yet kid! Hold onto this." The man exclaimed.

The man could swim with ease and he had placed me on top of a wooden piece of what I assumed was part of the ship that had exploded. I looked to my right and saw a boy my age, with blonde hair and green eyes, his eyes seemed scared as well.

Are we the only survivors?

My answer was clear the more we got away from the shipwreck and landed on an island. The man easily picked us up and placed us on his shoulder, but the more he continued to walk the more I felt he was struggling, it wasn't until we made it inside a cave that I realized he lost his leg.

I was about to comment on it but didn't when the man seemed angry at something. The boy and I exchanged looks and didn't say a word, we only saw the man lighting up a small fire place as we continued to hear thunder and lightning.

I don't know who this man is, this boy surely isn't his son…mom..dad…my eyes began to sting and I began to cry out loudly with tears running down my face along with a runny nose.

The man didn't say anything and the little boy seemed to stiffen and I saw a few tears forming in his eyes as well and he began to silently cry…

By the next morning the man, the pirate who saved us said he wanted to be alone so he left the boy and I a large bag of food. "We refuse to eat this because you're a pirate and pirates are bad people!!" The boy had shouted earlier.

The man said almost nothing and left me alone with the boy. The boy and I looked at each other and we both didn't say a word about the man.

"Umm do you think we can make a boat somehow and leave the island?" I quietly asked nervous and shy to ask this stranger for help.

"Does it look like we have a way out of this island?! The boy shouted glaring at me. "What would a girl know about sailing anyways?"

I began to cry again and I did the first thing that came to my mind, and I had punched him. "All I want is to see my parents again!"

The boy seemed surprised by my action and began to hold onto his swollen cheek. "H-hey don't cry. You're gonna make me cry again!"

It was too late. He was crying again….

It had been many days until the three of us were rescued. An odd boat with some friendly men were the one who saved us, the man who rescued the boys and us took the boy in as his own in a way, and he was about to send me off to live a normal life with someone who was willing to raise me.

The man somehow got a nice dress for me to wear, as a last send-off he had done a dessert for me. A strawberry cake I came to love at first bite.

He along with the men on the ship all were outside ready to say their goodbyes to me. I even saw a man or two begin to cry.

"I always wanted a small girl."

"You can't even feed yourself properly how are you supposed to raise a kid." I heard one of them say to another.

"You ready, kid?" I heard the man ask making me turn to look at him. I shook my head and the man sighed and patted my head once. "You'll soon understand why I'm sending you off. You'll have a proper life."

My eyes wandered over to the man and over to the small boy I was saved with. The boy stiffened when I looked at him, and I saw his pale cheeks turn to a pink color.

"I-I…" I didn't know exactly what to say, that's until he spoke up.

"I d-do hope you enjoyed the cake I made with help! Next time if we meet again I'll bake you a whole lot more..also…if we meet again I'll make you my wife!!" He exclaimed.

The men behind the boy groaned and one of them lightly hit his head. "That's no way of a send-off!"

I shyly smiled at all of them and the boy….

"Usopp!! Nami!! Are we there yet?!"

"How many times do we have to say, no!!"

I squinted my eyes when I opened them. "That was a strange dream." I muttered to myself and glared at the three who woke me up.

Few days have gone by since he fought Buggy and his crew along with a few more pirates. Usopp was the new crew member. He's a bit odd and a scaredy cat but he means well. If it wasn't for him. Luffy wouldn't have his new and proper ship, officially presenting himself as a pirate.

The sailing ship was huge and fitted with us do well. Luffy named it the Going Merry. A fitting name for a ship.

I looked to my left and saw Zoro fast asleep, I felt envious that he could sleep through this much talking and noise. I made sure my wig was still in place and I got up to join Nami up front. At least it's nice to have another girl around.

"So…you don't have trouble with sharing a room filled with guys?" I asked and saw Nami giving me an odd bur serious look.

"No?" She squinted her eyes looking at me and looked back at the tides.

Weird…It's a shame I can't talk about girl things with her.

Luffy said he was searching for the last member to our team. Luffy is Captain, we have a navigator..well kinda that being Nami, the main fighter being Zoro, Usopp as the sniper and I fix anything on the ship

Since none of us are cooks. Luffy suggested on finding a chef. I offered to be the one to fill everyone's stomach, but everything I cook always ends up burnt.

The rest of us began to get things done on the ship until a fight began with another ship and the Going Merry crashed into a ship. My mouth fell open when we crashed and accidently directed a cannon ball into the ship that wasn't even attacking us.

"Crap…Luffy!" I shouted and saw him smiling shamefully.

All of us walked closer to the deck and saw the great damage the other ship received. "We better head in there and talk to the person in charge. And you are going to apologize." I said grabbing onto Luffy's straw hat and he quickly grabbed it back and placed it on his head.

He said nothing and began to follow us. We got onto the other ship and read the ships name, The Baratie.

I looked around and this seemed familiar. "You okay?" Nami stopped and asked glancing back at me.

"Yeah.. everything's fine." I said still looking around and ran over to her side and began to follow the rest of the crew.

We all entered the ship and wow was it beautiful and extremely fancy. "Wow..this is something else. It doesn't feel like we're in the middle of the sea." I said in awe and stared around.

Everything looked so expensive. I saw people around sharing their meals and couples smiling at each other and drinking fancy wine. Not to mention the smell, I wonder how the food must taste!

I was practically drooling when I saw a huge meal in a table. Nami had grabbed the back of my clothes and dragged me away from a couple who was staring at me weirded out.

"Get a hold of yourself, (Y/N)." Nami muttered and went to sit down on an empty table.

I nodded at myself then went back to checking the place out. This seems so familiar…I started to walk around and peeked over and saw many chefs cooking the meals and they seemed to make it so easy.

"I have an order for a large plate of seafood rice, potato pallie and medium sized bowl of sea pork soup. I need it done in less than 10 minutes!" My mouth began to water even more.

"All have it done in 5." Someone said on the other side with a British accent.

"(Y/N)!" Someone hissed my name and I quickly went over to sit next to Nami and Zoro. Luffy came in as well while we sat down and patiently waited to talk to someone.

I had excused myself after waiting for a bit and went to the bathroom. When I returned I saw Nami still sitting down and she raised an eyebrow looking not pleased when a man began walking towards her.

I felt my heart race when I saw a tall figure standing just a few inches away from her. A handsome man with blonde hair with one of his eyes being a bit hidden by it. He was wearing a dark suit with a blue and white striped shirt under it with a black tie and matching dress pants.

"Would the lady like something sweet?" I saw a smirk spread across his face and Nami just stared at him and rolled her eyes.

Who is he?? And does he know Nami? The man was clearly flirting with her.

"You gotta be joking." I heard Nami ssy. She then turned to look at me.

I didn't know what to do or say. I simply stared at her confused then looked to see the man look at me, he glanced for a second then once again and was now looking directly at me. He immediately walked away from Nami and began to walk towards me.

I began to take a few steps back and I gasped when he took hold of my hand with both of his hands and saw him get down on one knee.

"You are the most gorgeous being I've laid my eyes on. A sight no other I've come across in the Grand Line.."

Thank goodness Nami couldn't listen but it was quiet clear to anyone that this man was flirting with me.

"Y-You've got it all wrong!" I said trying to pull back and felt my cheeks turning red. I can't let anyone know at the moment that I was crossdressing as a guy!!

"I'm never wrong. My eyes never fail when I see a beautiful lady as yourself."

If I weren't in this situation I would be falling on my knees. He's so cute and handsome! My lips began to quiver and I felt my entire body freeze. I've never met a man who shameless at flirting with a stranger.

The man rose up to his feet now towering me and smiling down at me. "I-I…"

He smiled and Introduced himself. "My name is Sanji."

[bimbobaggins69]

˗ˏˋ𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 ˎˊ˗

bar-back e.m. x fem reader

blurb request: barback!eddie who let’s you try his newest concoctions on the house🤭 by @bcyhoods

authors note: thank you for participating in my little celebration and sending in your request(s), love. This was such a fun one to write and totally got away from me. Anyway, hope you like! <3

✷ ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+

A fog of smoke greets you as you walk through the double doors of the hideout, some run down dive bar in the middle of bum fuck nowhere, surrounded by cows and cornfields. You can’t help but grimace as each step you take is met with sticky resistance under the soles of your brand new loafers.

You take a seat at the bar, running your fingers over the skirt of your dress while you wait for the bartender to notice you and while you do, you take in every inch of him; in his black leather jacket, long brown waves and rings galore. He’s not like anything you’d ever seen outside of an MTV music video.

You’d spent your whole life around preppy assholes who thought polos and boat shoes were cool. They’d never be caught dead in that bad boy attire or much less in a sketchy place like this. That thought made your heart race with excitement, you set your sights on him and prayed your sweet charm and flirty banter would work in your favor.

“Uh, what can I get ya, sweetheart?” The smoothness of his voice instantly makes you want to clench your thighs, but you decide against it as your eyes meet his.

“Mmm, got anything sweet?” You ask with a flirty smile, you don’t want to lay it on thick too soon, just little by little for now.

“Sure, I can whip somethin’ up for you.” He says proudly, bending down to grab a whisky glass and a bottle of some fruity liquor. “Sorry, we don’t have anythin’ more fancy, we really only get beer and whisky orders here, if you can believe it.” He says sarcastically as he looks around the smoke filled bar, met with older working men and bikers who were, to no surprise holding an aforementioned beer or whisky.

“It’s fine.” You say, waving off his apology with a small swat to the smoky air. “So… aren’t you a little young to be bartending?” You ask curiously, also as an attempt to keep the conversation flowing.

“Ah, well you’d be right. I’m not quite a bartender yet, more of a bartenders assistant if you will. But…” he looks around with dramatic flare, making you giggle. “She’s not around at the moment, so looks like you’re stuck with me, princess.” The pet name sends a thrilling swoop straight to your stomach.

“Maybe I wanna be stuck with you.” The words are out of your mouth before you have a chance to fully process them and you immediately want nothing more than to swallow them back down. Your face heats up with humiliation when he raises an eyebrow that gets lost somewhere underneath his shaggy bangs.

He doesn’t even acknowledge your little slip up, instead he shakes his head as a smirk forms on his pretty lips, all the while pouring some red liquor and pineapple juice concoction into your glass. You both let the awkward silence flow around you, although the bar is anything but silent.

“So, tell me what ya’ think?” He beams, scooting the half filled glass closer towards you. The silver of his rings glint off of the yellow lighting and you can’t help but want to do some very shameful things to those fingers while he’s wearing those rings.

After the third concoction of his amazing fruity cocktails, you begin feeling that familiar burn in your chest. You’re nowhere near drunk just feeling loose, which was never good for the people around you.

“So, why haven’t I ever seen you around?” The metalhead asks as he takes a seat next to you at the bar, the bartender had since come back and told him he was off the hook for the rest of the night.

“Well, I was on my way to Loch Nora to visit family…but, well I got a flat and pulled into the parking lot and thought why the hell not? I could use a drink before I go see my uptight aunt and asshole cousin.” You ramble, before stopping yourself with another sip of your coconut cocktail.

“Uptight and asshole seems to be the theme in this shit town.” Eddie chuckles as he watches you between sips of his cheap beer.

“Uptight and asshole also seems to be the theme in my family.” You quip back with a small smile.

“Well I don’t know about uptight but asshole is definitely the theme in mine.” He smirks as he playfully pushes into you with his leather clad shoulder.

“Yeah, well you haven’t met assholes until you met the Harringtons.” You say back with a playful push of your own.

“Harrington? As in S-Steve Harrington?” He stammers, turning towards you in his bar stool as his eyes bore into yours, awaiting your answer.

“Oh, so you’re acquainted with king asshole?” A smile radiates across your face that makes Eddie noticeably gulp.

“Y-yeah, I guess you could say that. But, yeesh I think you might have me beat, sweetheart.” His laugh is boisterous and loud over whatever metal song is playing through the old speakers.

“Tell ya what, how bout I call you a tow truck and cab…and uh, these drinks are on the house since you were nice enough to be my taste tester.” The look on his face tells you he’s anything but ready to see you go. So of course, in your loose as a goose but extremely coherent state, you say something you never would’ve just an hour ago.

“Well, since you gave me something to taste, it’s only right if I do the same, no?” You throw in a flirty wink in a desperate plea to stick the landing of your intended innuendo.

What you didn’t realize was that he was in the midst of taking a sip of his beer and once those words slipped past your lips he immediately went into a violent coughing attack, his eyes wide as if in complete and utter disbelief while you swat at his back, trying to help him catch his breath.

Once his coughing died down, his eyes met yours again and the apples of cheeks bloomed a pretty pink, embarrassment clearly overtaking him.

“W-were you serious?” He asks, as if he was contemplating your proposal and that had the thrilling swoop vehemently returning to your stomach but now it traveled down towards your core as you clenched around nothing.

“Very.” Is all you say, but your eyebrow lifts in question before you begin to stand from your barstool.

Your hips sway seductively as you make your way to the dingy bathrooms, a smile overtaking your futures when you hear sneakers squeak behind you. You push the door open and are immediately met with graffiti riddled walls; it’s filthy, disgusting and so fucking thrilling!

You hear the door shut and lock behind you, and when you slowly turn you’re met with those warm brown eyes that you’ve been fawning over all night.

You don’t say another word, instead you take a few calculated steps over towards him before pushing him up against the graffitied door and smashing your lips into his, in an intense and desperate kiss. He moans into your mouth when your tongue sloppily glides against his, the kiss is all consuming and has you weak in the knees.

His lips pull away and you chase them with a whimper that has him smirking down at you with a cock sure grin.

“Up on the counter, princess. I want that taste you promised me.”

✷ LIKES, COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE SO APPRECIATED, LIKE YOU’D SERIOUSLY MAKE MY DAY (:

[tomriddleslove]

What’s left of me?

✩Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Summary: The one where your pursuit for excellence leads you down a path of self destruction, and you’re slowly loosing yourself. You didn’t expect a certain boy in your year would be your saving grace. Alternatively: Mattheo makes you realise you’re more than what you think you are.

A/N: I guess this could very easily be like a prequel to the other mattheo one shot ‘i’m here’. This is definitely a bit self indulgent but we all have our things 😻😻

Warnings: Allusions to overdosing (brief), mentions of not eating.

Songs: Nothings New - Rio Romeo

18 days.

18 days till you would be finished with all of this.

Technically, it would actually be 408 days till you finished school and graduated from this godforsaken place, but 18 more till you finished with exams.

You weren’t sure how many more hours you could spend hunched over indecipherable handwriting, pouring over text till your eyes stung and your back ached. Surrounded by a stack of books and rolls of parchment, you couldn’t even begin to figure out where you ended and the library began. You had taken up a huge table (that could seat at least 4) for the better part of 17 hours, sat on the same chair since 6:00 am.

You stifle a small groan of pain as you roll your wrist, stiff and sore from the hell that was ancient runes.

There are ink splotches all over your skin, and you’re sure the amount of work you were pouring into this stopped being effective nearly 5 hours ago.

Your eyes flicker up and scan over the once-packed library that had slowly dwindled down to a few students, half of whom were in the same boat as you.

To you, being the last person in the library was a huge sign of success. It meant you were more dedicated and more hard-working.

In reality, the truth couldn’t be any further from that, but in your mind, if you weren’t milking yourself over every last piece of work it simply wasn’t being done right.

The hushed murmurs and sounds of parchment being unfurled fade into the background as your quill scratches furiously against the parchment, mind running at a million miles an hour.

You ignore the pang in your stomach as you work; you haven’t eaten today. You didn’t want to get up at any point to get food, for fear of your place being taken.

Now, you didn’t want to get up for another reason. It was well past the library's open hours and Madame Pince was angrily fussing about, bustling around everyone as she got them to leave. A testament to how long you had been there, she didn’t even seem to notice you, and you were worried getting up and walking about would break this sort of invisibility shield you had going on.

Come to think of it, you hadn’t really drunk any water either. You brought your bottle with you but had forgotten to fill it up. It was fine though, the human body could last for 3 days without water - it could wait. Your upcoming exams were far more important.

In Scandinavia, the Elder Futhark remained in use until some time around the eighth century (the time of the Eddas), when drastic changes in the Old Norse language occurred, and corresponding changes in the runic alphabet were made to accommodate the new sounds. However, unlike the Anglo-Saxon Futhorc, the Younger Futhark (as it is now called) reduced the number of runes from 24 to 16, and several runes came to represent multiple sounds. The forms of the runes were also changed and simplified.

Gods, you couldn't take this anymore. You felt sick and exhausted. You ignore the hunger that gnaws at your stomach, rubbing a hand over your face as you contemplate finishing off and going to bed.

But every time you think of stopping a horrible feeling emerges in your stomach, consuming you with anxiety. The weight of impending exams and the fear of not doing well gnawing at your determination. You glance at the clock, realizing it's well past midnight, and the library is now completely empty except for you.

Madame Pince, finally noticing your presence, approaches with a disapproving look. "You know, the library does close at a certain hour. I can't have students staying here all night," she scolds, but her tone softens as she sees the exhaustion in your eyes.

“Sorry. I lost track of time” You mumble, haphazardly cramming your stuff into your bag. You get up, and the room spins for a second. You stumble but manage to catch yourself, holding onto the table as Madam Pince reaches out a hand to help you recover.

“You need to take care of yourself. No exam is worth this much stress,” She says, eyeing you with concern. If only she knew how far that was from the truth. You felt as though you had so little to your name. Performing well, overachieing. That was what you were known for. It was the only thing you felt was yours. Everyone else had character, they were distinctly themselves. They had hobbies, interests, and friendships that defined them. But for you, it was always about excelling academically. Without that, you became nobody. You were no more than the number on your papers, and the reminder weighed down on you like an unrelenting burden.

By some miracle you manage to stumble down the empty halls of the castle into the Slytherin common room, which seemed paradoxically warm considering its grandiose stone structure and dark, moody lighting. You carelessly drop your bag onto a table closest to the fireplace, trudging up to your room as you battle the sleep that threatens to consume you.

It's dark, and your roommates have long gone to bed.

“Lumos” You murmur, hiding the blinding light that emerges from the tip of your wand with the lining of your school robes, dimming it slightly. You grope blindly at your bedside drawer, stopping when you feel the familiar smooth glass bottle, that fits perfectly in your palm. You slip it into the pocket of your robes, slowly shutting the drawer as you make your way back down to the common room. You dismiss the light that shines from your wand, tossing it onto the sofa as you take a seat on the floor, in front of the low table. You read the instructions on the back of the small bottle as if you hadn’t been consuming this religiously for the past month.

Wideye potion User Guidance:

Take no more than one teaspoon every 6 hours. Effects will last for up to 8 hours. Excessive use of this potion may lead to adverse effects, and in rare cases, severe bodily harm. Users are advised not to use the maximum dosage for a consecutive 72 hours.

You’ve read it so many times, you were sure you could recite it by heart. Choosing not to heed any warnings, you pop open the cork and down the whole bottle in one go. The rancid taste of the potion burns, eliciting a shudder down your spine as you swallow down the bile that threatens to emerge. Pocketing the empty glass bottle, you stretch your arms before retrieving your books, ready to continue working.

If you were lucky, the potion might give you a boost of energy for about 3 hours or so. You had been taking it so much you had developed a sort of immunity to it, and the effects were not as potent as they used to be. The sacrifice of your well-being for the sake of productivity had become a routine, a desperate attempt to squeeze every ounce of time and focus out of your exhausted mind and body.

You have attempted to brew a stronger concoction, in the misplaced hopes that increasing the potency would counteract the effect of the immunity. However, the violent cramps and palpitations it had given you very quickly told you that wouldn't work.

You knew it was bad. It was causing irreversible damage to your body, killing you at worst. It simply wasn't sustainable. But you couldn't drag yourself out of that mindset.

Failure. Nobody.

You gritted your teeth and carried on working.

You managed to get through another potions essay, and the time on your watch read 1:00 am.

You could carry on for longer, right?

You zone out for a second, staring off at the orange embers that emerged from the fireplace, shining bright for what seemed like a millisecond before falling to the floor, turning into nothing but ash.

The orange embers flicker, and for a moment, you see yourself in them – a fleeting brightness that threatens to be extinguished. The battle between ambition and self-preservation rages on as you grit your teeth and carry on working, oblivious to the embers slowly falling into nothingness, much like your own fading sense of self.

“Why on earth are you up at this hour doing work?” A voice calls from behind you, and the momentary intrusion shocks you, sending a burst of energy through you as you spin around.

Flopping down onto the sofa next to you, leaning back with his legs lazily outstretched, was none other than Mattheo Riddle. Clad in a plain grey sweatshirt and black jeans, he eyes you with curiosity, smelling distinctively of smoke. He had most likely been out, as he so usually was at this hour. You shrug, turning back to your work.

“Exams. Need to revise” You mumble, voice cracking. You swallow, massaging your dry throat as you grimace, trying to get back to your writing.

“Revise? Merlin, you're the smartest person in our year. You don't need to be revising” Matthep leans forward, plucking a piece of parchment from your pile and examining it with a raised eyebrow.

You snatch it back, a protective instinct kicking in despite the fatigue. You hated that sentiment. Despised it, even. People always assumed your performance came naturally. That you were simply born with the ability to do well. No one seemed to consider what you had to do to get to that point, how you wore yourself down, day in and day out, till you either passed out from exhaustion or pain, neglecting your most basic needs.

"I might be the 'smartest' person, but that doesn't mean I can afford to slack off," you reply, a hint of frustration in your voice. The adrenaline from the sudden interruption starts to ebb away, leaving you feeling even more drained.

Mattheo leans back, momentarily caught off guard by your defensiveness. He had never seen you this on edge. He was so accustomed to seeing you as this familiar presence during the school day his partner for the many lessons that he didn’t have his friends in. The two of you would work together and on rare occasions, hang out with one another in the common room as well. It was a rather unlikely duo, the king of Slytherin and the academic prodigy. Yet, More often than not Mattheo found himself seeking out your presence. He never admitted it outright, but he hugely admired you. Your intelligence, your drive, it all captivated him. There were times when he hoped he could be only half the person you were.

How funny it was, for you felt the very same thing when you saw him. He seemed content. Happy. He was loved by nearly everyone. Popular, with a fun social life. He had everything you wanted without putting in any of the work.

You wanted to be like him. But you weren’t. And if you wanted anything like what he had, you had to work damn hard for it. So that's what you did. With a small sigh, you turn back to your work.

“Hey,” He says gently, his voice softening slightly. "I’m sorry. I say stupid things sometimes.” He apologies, brows furrowed as he looks at your back facing him.

“It's fine. I should be saying sorry. You didn't say anything, I just…. I’m just a bit tired, that's all.” You mumble, apologising as you get up. You stretch, a yawn escaping your lips as you wearily rub your eyes.

“I'm gonna run up to my room and grab some more parchment. I’ll be down in a second,” You say, shrugging off your school robe as you turn to walk away. You ascend the stairs leading to your dorm, tossing your robe onto the sofa next to Mattheo as you do so.

Your robe slides off the sofa and hits the floor, a faint clinking sound echoing through the empty room as you disappear.

Curious, Mattheo looks down at your carelessly discarded robe. He reaches down, picking it up. It weighs heavier than it should be, and Mattheo can't help but feel a twinge of curiosity, He eyes the now empty staircase before reaching into your pocket, fingers brushing against a smooth glass vial.

Not just one, but a few.

Frowning, he turns out your pocket, and four identical glass vials tumble into his lap. Picking one up, his frown only deepens as he reads the label.

“Wideye potion?” He mutters to himself, the confusion on his face morphing into something else as the pieces fit in place.

He had admired you for your intelligence and drive, and now he was confronted with the reality of your struggles. The contrast between your achievements and the seemingly carefree moments he sought with you becomes stark. He berates himself for not having noticed early, for having let you fall down such a destructive path.

Jaw clenched, he gazes at the piles of books you had been working through, rolling the empty vials between his fingers as the sound of your approaching footsteps snaps him out of his thoughts.

You pause in confusion, noticing the scrutinising depression plastered on his face as he looks up at you, rolls of parchment bundled in your hands.

"What's the Wideye potion for?" Mattheo questions, his voice cutting through the silence with an uncomfortable heaviness. He holds up the empty vials as evidence, his gaze piercing through the exhaustion in your eyes.

Caught off guard by the confrontation, you glance down at the vials and then meet Mattheo's eyes. A brief moment of silence hangs in the air, the crackling embers of the fireplace filling the empty silence.

“Research. For uh, potions.” You respond, internally berating yourself for coming up with such a weak excuse.

Mattheo's expression remains stern, a mix of frustration and genuine concern etched on his face.

"Don't bullshit me," he says, his tone direct and uncompromising. "I found these in your pocket, and 'potions research' is a shit excuse. I’m going to ask you again. What’s the wideye potion for?"

You shift uncomfortably, feeling small under his scrutinising gaze You clear your throat, speaking.

"It's just to stay awake, you know? To keep going. I only take it in extreme circumstances" you explain, your voice betraying the exhaustion that has settled in.

Mattheos jaw clenches, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he looks to the side with a sigh, visibly frustrated.

“Extreme? And what would that be, hmm? Because right now I'm looking at four empty bottles, and God knows how many more you’ve thrown away.” He snaps, his expression softening as he looks at you.

You feel a lump forming in your throat as you struggle to find the right words. Why on earth were you close to tears? Why did you feel like crying?

“I-” You start, trailing off as you stare at the floor.

Mattheo cuts through the silence, his tone still stern but laced with concern. "This isn't okay. You're smart, and you know better. You can't keep doing this to yourself. What if something happens? What if you collapse or get seriously sick? It's not worth it."

After a moment, Mattheo's expression softens, and he exhales deeply. "When was the last time you ate?" he asks, the concern evident in his voice.

Shit.

You pause, hesitating before admitting quietly, "Breakfast...yesterday."

Mattheo's features tighten at your admission, his eyes reflecting a mixture of frustration, anger, and genuine worry. He rises from his seat and strides towards you, his footsteps echoing in the otherwise silent room.

"Yesterday? Are you serious?" he says sharply, his voice carrying a weight of both concern and disbelief.

You remain silent, unable to meet his eyes, feeling the shame and vulnerability washing over you.

“Seriously? Fuck, what’s wrong with you? Why would you do that to yourself?” He chastises you, and you snap.

“I have to! You don't fucking get it, do you? I don't have anything else to fall back on.” You start, dropping the parchment onto the table in front of you.

Mattheo's expression shifts from concern to confusion as you lash out. "What are you talking about? You have plenty more than just academics. You're talented, you're smart, and people care about you. Why are you reducing yourself to just grades?"

You scoff, a bitter smile playing on your lips. "Talented? Smart? What does that even mean? It's just a facade, a cover-up for the fact that without these achievements, I'm nothing. I don't have friends; I don't have hobbies or interests. What am I without my grades?"

Mattheo tries to interject, "You're a person with-"

But you cut him off, "No, you don't get it! I'm just a number, a ranking, a test score. Everything I am is tied to how well I perform academically. Do you know what it's like to feel like the only thing you're good at is studying, and even that's slipping away?" You snap anger evident in your tone as you spin around to face him, your weary eyes meeting his.

“It’s the same thing every single day. I wake up, bury myself in books, and push myself to the brink just to feel like I matter. I don't eat, I don't sleep, I don't talk to anyone. I’ve spent my whole life isolating myself and neglecting my most basic needs for this! If I stop now, then what's left of me?”

Tears start to well up in your eyes, and you hate yourself for showing such vulnerability. Mattheo's stern demeanour softens as he watches you unravel.

"I can't stop, Mattheo. I can't afford to. Because if I do, what's left of me?" Your voice trembles.

Mattheo's heart drops at your words, guilt and hurt clawing at his insides. He can’t fathom the idea of you suffering so much, and him being blind to it. How could you not notice how incredible of a person you are beyond all of this? He’d give anything in the world for you to see yourself through his eyes. For you to feel the way he feels when he's with you, even for a second. To know that he’d do anything you asked him to because he cared for you. Not the one who gets outstanding on all their tests.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mattheo finally speaks, his voice softer, genuine concern written across his face.

You shake your head, a mix of frustration and desperation in your eyes. “Because you wouldn’t understand. No one does. They just see the grades, the perfect student. They don’t see the mess behind it all. And I can’t let them. I can’t let anyone see me like this.”

Mattheo moves closer, his expression shifting. “You’re wrong. I do understand. Maybe not completely, but I want to. You don’t have to face this alone.”

You scoff, wiping away a tear. “Why? What do you care? You have everything, popularity, friends, a life. I’m just the study partner, the smart one. I can’t burden you with this.”

Mattheo remains silent for a second, before he speaks.

“Every other Sunday, you go down to Hogsmesde and buy a hamper of sweets form Honeydukes. You take it to the children’s school and volunteer there for an hour. Everytime you visit, you make their day.” He starts.

"You're not just grades," he says, his voice gentle. "You have quirks that make you who you are. Like the way you absentmindedly tap your foot when you're deep in thought. Or how you always carry a small notebook, and I bet it's filled with more than just class notes. I've seen you doodle in the margins."

He continues, "You have a wicked sense of humor, even if you don't show it to everyone. I've heard you snort-laugh during our study sessions. And don't even get me started on your taste in music.How you call that dastardly jazz music, i’ll never understand, but you can’t resist humming along to the tunes of the Wizarding Wireless Network when you're studying. Your fondness for Chocolate Frogs and your inexplicable aversion to pumpkin juice.”

Mattheo's eyes light up, a small smile tugging at his lips as he recalls more details. "Remember that time in Charms class when you made your quill dance across the room just to see if you could do it? Or when you brewed a prank potion that turned the water in the Prefects' bathroom blue for a week? You have a mischievous side that not many people get to see." He continues, looking down at you sincerely. He remains silent for a second, eyes scanning over your face before he steps back, sighing.

“I don’t know how to do this emotional, sappy bullshit. I don’t do it. But with you, I do. I want to. Other people want to. That’s what you do.” He says, voice quiet.

You remain rooted to your spot, somewhere between disbelief and gratitude as you stare up at Mattheo. How did he know all that? Why did he know all that?

“You noticed?” You speak up, voice alarmingly quiet.

He looks at you as though you’ve just asked him whether the sky is blue.

“Of course i’ve noticed. It’s impossible not to.” He murmurs, and you know he’s being honest.

Tears prick in your eyes again, and it’s as though all that exhaustion and neglect has come crashing back down on you tenfold after Mattheo had called you out. You try blink them away but alas, you simply couldn’t. Before you can even say anything, Mattheo steps forward, pulling you into his chest as he wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace. He holds you tightly, not even entertaining the thought of letting go as your tears soak his sweatshirt, tentatively accepting his embrace. His heart clenches at every tear that falls from your eyes, and he can’t tell if he’s horrified or accepting of the fact that he’d give up everything to relieve you of your burdens, even if only for a day.

He rubs your back soothingly, and you can’t help but let it all out.

It’s rather cathartic, really, because you've held onto this weight for so long, and now, in Mattheo's arms, it feels like a moment of release.

As your tears eventually subside, you pull back, both embarrassed and utterly shattered. You look down, sniffling as you wipe away your tear stained eyes when Mattheo hooks a finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

People often said that the eyes were a window to the soul. You never really understood that, but in this moment, you felt as though you were gazing into the very depths of Mattheos being.

With a tenderness that betrays the boundaries of ‘just friends’ , he wipes away your tears with his thumb, looking down at you.

“Come on. Let’s get you up to rest, yeah?” He hums, quietly. You nod, having to tear yourself away from his touch.

He leans down to pack away your stuff, not letting you handle a thing as he throws your stuff over his shoulder.

“You can stay in my room, if you’d like. Theodore’s out for the night so I can take his bed.” Mattheo says.

You consider it for a second. You didn’t particularly fancy heading up to your room with Mattheo, for fear of your roommate awakening to see you in such a state. You nod, speaking.

“Yes please.” You say, voice embarrassingly hoarse from having cried so much. You pray Mattheo didn’t notice.

Of course he did. But, he chose not to draw attention to it, instead resolving to run down to the kitchen to get you a cup of tea.

You follow Mattheo into his room, which you were no stranger to. Having projects together meant endless hours of collaborating, and opting to avoid being pestered by your roommate and her friends (who had a rather amusing infatuation with Mattheo), you worked in his room instead.

“Help yourself to some clothes if you’d like. They’re on the right.” He says, carefully draping your school bag and robe onto one of the desks. You thank him, smiling softly as he cleans the mess he had left.

“Go lie down. I’ll be back in a second” He says, turning away as he exits his room. Swiftly walking down to the kitchen, his head is reeling with thoughts of you.

He chose not to confront the feeling gnawing at him in light of your breakdown. He didn’t want to deal with that just yet. In no less than 10 minutes he’s carefully treading up the stairs to the dorms once more, a cup of chamomile tea in one hand and some small crackers in the other.

You hadn’t been eating, nor drinking, and the idea of you neglecting yourself so much sent Mattheo into an uncomfortable state where he found himself riddled with anxiety.

Just friends, right?

He clicks open the door to his room with his elbow, precariously walking over with the tea and crackers in hand as he goes to set them down on his bedside table. His eyes flicker over to you, and a small smile tugs at his lips as he sees you already fast asleep, curled up under the covers. The sight of your slumber brings a warmth to Mattheo's heart. He watches you for a moment, taking in the soft rise and fall of your breath, the delicate features that are usually tense with stress now softened in sleep.

The sight brings him more peace than he wishes to admit, and the looming reality that he had to eventually confront only pressed down on him further.

But for now, he didn’t care.

Because in your peace, he found happiness. And he’s sure he’d never find anything else more beautiful.

Possessed by a wave of sentiment that betrays his usual self, he can’t resist reaching out to tuck a stand of misplaced hair behind your ear. Before he can even comprehend what he’s doing, he leans down and presses a soft , brief kiss to your forehead.

He pulls back and finds himself slightly taken aback by his own actions. The quiet room, filled only with the soft sounds of your sleep, almost seems to amplify the beating of his heart.

Mattheo stands there for a moment, looking at you with a mix of tenderness and confusion. Then, shaking off the unexpected surge of emotions, he retreats to Theodores bed , slipping out of his clothes as he goes to lay down. He had to resist the urge to turn around and catch a glimpse of you once again, and lets out a small sigh as he shuts his eyes.

Mattheo Riddle was not a man of sentiment. He was not soft, and he most certainly did not go out of his way for others.

You had changed that. And he couldn’t figure out whether the prospect was one he was ready to welcome.

[stvrni0lo]

𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐳'𝐬

matt sturniolo x reader (fluff)

summary: a rundown of the first times that the boys have caught you sleeping in random places

warnings/notes: none!

requested?: yes!

> > >

The boys were used to you being able to fall asleep anywhere and everywhere. It didn’t matter the circumstances, if you were tired you were 100% capable of falling asleep wherever.

It took some time for them to get used to it, though. Especially when you and Matt started dating - since you were over more often, they gradually grew accustomed to your sleep habits.

Their first times witnessing your willingness to pass out as soon as your head hit a surface was interesting to say the least.

𝟏. It had been a long day and you were exhausted. The guys had dragged you and the rest of their friends out for a day at the local fun-fair.

While, yes, it was fun, you were also drained by the end of the day.

After hanging your jacket up and kicking your shoes off, you decided to get some cereal before bed. Chris said he was going to be on his phone in the living room while the other 2 boys parted ways to get ready for bed.

Pouring yourself a bowl, you sat at the dining table and slowly began to eat.

You didn’t like going to bed hungry, but your eyelids seemed to droop nonetheless. Deciding to rest your head for a few seconds, it wasn’t long before sleep overtook you right there on the table.

Some time passed and Chris was on his way to bed. Before walking down to his room, he was met with your sleeping form slumped against the table.

He shook his head, smiling. How could someone fall asleep while eating cereal?

He gently nudged your shoulder so as to not scare you. Upon seeing your bleary eyed gaze, he helped you stand up, walking you over to Matt’s room before bidding you goodnight.

Chris laughed away to himself as he crawled into bed, finding amusement in your weird sleeping spot.

𝟐. By now the boys had sort of began to understand that you could find a bed anywhere. It had been a few months since the first incident and Chris had brought up the story on multiple occasions.

Nick thought he was only exaggerating, no way you could fall asleep anywhere. Surely you had standards.

That notion was quickly thrown out the window as he walked into the living room. His eyes found themselves upon your sleeping form.

You were strewn across an armchair. Which would’ve been normal if it wasn’t for the fact that Nick left the room for 2 minutes and you had already fallen into a deep slumber. Not to mention the fact that you were in the craziest position he had ever seen in his life.

After taking some extremely humbling pictures of you, he decided to leave you alone to get your rest.

He placed a fluffy blanket atop your torso, gently tucking the sides in. Nick gave you one last glance before going down the hall to show his brothers the pictures he took.

𝟑. It was a rainy day in LA. You didn’t get many of those; but when you did, the wrath of God rained down. Streets were borderline flooded, and the cars on the roads might as well have been labeled as boats.

You decided to run yourself a nice hot bubble bath. Putting your hair up in a bun, you soaked yourself up in the tub. There was nothing more relaxing than submerging yourself in steamy water while thunder clapped outside.

Hours passed and Matt was beginning to worry. He hadn’t heard a peep from you. He even texted your phone multiple times, knowing that you’d be scrolling through it.

When no response came, he came and knocked on the door, disrupting your peace.

You, of course, had fallen asleep in the water. The soapy suds had lulled you to sleep, releasing the tension in your muscles as you listened to the symphony of rain outside.

“You alright in there, hon?”

Blinking some sleep away, you responded.

“Sorry Matty, I fell asleep,” you mumbled tiredly.

Matt sighed in relief, chuckling to himself as he calmed down. He should’ve known. Letting you continue to get yourself pampered up, he made sure to get the bed ready for you.

Once you returned to his room, he cuddled into you as he began to laugh.

“Who falls asleep in the bath?” he teased as he nuzzled into your stomach.

“I’ll have you know that many people sleep while bathing,” you retorted, your hands tangling themselves in his hair as he continued to make fun of you.

- - -

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

@lollibumblebee

@dwntwn-strnlo

@gracietaylorsversions

@20nugs

@thetriplets3

@sunshinewwx

@gwenlore

@gabbylovesreading

@ssturniolo

@opheliaofficial07

@stargirlv0id

[jakescakeislateforourdate]

Hey girly!! Im too shy to ask this without the anonymous filter but first of all I’ve been reading through your blog and I love it honestly. I was wondering if you are open to requests if you’d be able to write up something about joe rantz (I am absolutely LIVING for blonde callum) and maybe a coaches daughter trope? he saw her when he went to sign himself up, at the practices all that jazz and just them like becoming friends then more than friends, the boat scene where he gets his seat taken away from him maybe? thank you so much and again I love your work! xx

Hello, my lovely anon. Glad to see you in my inbox. I apologize for the wait but I've been coming out of an awful slump and I was trying to make this piece not total garbage. I hope you enjoy it and I hope I see you in my inbox again.

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

Joe Rantz (Callum Turner’s) x reader

wc: 4,600

Joe finds himself utterly gobsmacked when he discovers that the pretty face he’s seen at the shell house is the coach’s daughter and not his wife.

Enjoy this garbage!

…

Joe Rantz had come to the shell house in search of work. He’d hoped that making the team would cover his tuition and get him a room and he needed it so desperately. Roger Morris stood next to him, chewing nervously at his nails. “Sorry, Joe, didn’t realize competition would be so tight.” He mutters, spitting out a shred of his fingernail. Coach Ulbrickson was going over the basics of practice. It sounded like absolute hell to Joe but he was out of options. He fidgeted with the number painted on his jersey. Sure, he was strong from a lifetime of rough labor but so were the other boys. Most of them were broke too and just as desperate. Joe didn’t know if he had what it took to stand out but he’d be damned if he couldn’t make a life for himself because he couldn’t muscle up some money for college. 

As Ulbrickson speaks, a shadow appears in his office window. It’s too far for Joe’s nervous gaze to actually study the figure. He tries to focus on coach but the shadow continues to draw his attention. Roger notices too. “Who the hell is that?” Joe just shrugs. The shadow never leaves the window even as Ulbrickson finishes up and the boys get split up. Joe can’t dwell on the figure any longer because he’s being herded into the middle of shellhouse. He begins a horrible set of workouts. His body is made for hard work but he’s never actually worked out before. His muscles aren’t used to straining this way. 

It’s not long before his breathing becomes labored and sweat is pouring down his back. His curls hang down his forehead, sticking to his skin uncomfortably. And just when the pain is becoming unbearable the coaches are swapping them out and Joe is put on a junky old boat and an oar is pushed into his hands. They start rowing and instantly, the only thing on Joe’s mind is how bad his back hurts. Pained grunts and groans echo across the water as the boys struggle to keep pulling the oars. 

Eventually, it’s all over. Joe stumbles onto the dock in front of the shellhouse and feels his knees shaking with excursion. Men begin to drain away from the shellhouse and as the numbers dwindle, the shadow in the window of Ulbrickson’s office reappears. It moves through the glass panes like a swan through water. Then the office door opens and Joe sees your face for the first time. 

“That was some tough practice, huh?” Roger bumps Joe’s shoulder, a crooked smile on his face. Joe cannot respond and Roger follows his gaze. “Washington, Washington, what finery you enjoy.” 

You descend the steps and take a place between Ulbrickson and Bolles. Ulbrickson puts and arm around and Joe feels his heart wither a little. You’re probably Mrs. Ulbrickson. Though he can’t shake the impression that you look a little too young to be with Ulbrickson. 

“Alas,” Roger throws up his hands, “Finery we cannot also enjoy.”

“Don’t be crass.”

“I’m not! How was that crass?” Roger purses his lips and nudges Joe. 

Joe just buttons up his jacket and picks up his books, “C’mon, let’s get outta here.”

The very next day, Joe is suffering through practice. He aches all over and his muscles scream at him. He’s already shaking when he gets done with the basic strength building exercises. Most of the boys are. There are fewer numbers today but this does not better Joe’s odds by much. They clamber into Old Nero and start rowing away. His wrists twinge and his knees spasm. He rows and rows until he thinks his body will give out and then Ulbrickson is directing them back to the shellhouse. Jow crawls out of the boat, soaked to the bone and stiff as a board.

Then he sees you again, this time your sorting registry papers with Pocock. Your back is turned to him, so you don’t notice his longing stare. He keeps telling himself that you’re a married lady and that he should be focused on making the team, but nothing seems to chase you from his mind. 

Coach Ulbrickson sweeps across the dock and places a hand on top of your head, an odd gesture between husband and wife but Joe wouldn’t know about those things. Since his group was the last to use Old Nero, they get the privilege of stowing the oars. Joe begins unlatching the mechanism when he shifts on his knees.

It happens so fast he can’t clock what’s happening. First there’s the sensation of slipping, the horrible thrust of his legs flying out from beneath him. He twists mid slip, and his side smacks the dock painfully before he’s swept off the dock by his own weight. He plumets into the cold water with a catastrophic splash and agonized shriek.

When Joe resurfaces a dozen hands are reaching for him. He grasps onto George Hunt’s forearm and allows Shorty to hoist him onto the sodden wood planks. A fluffy white towel is draped around his shoulders; firm hands rub his chilled biceps. “Are you alright?” You face appears before him.

Joe is almost too stunned to speak, “I—yeah, yeah I’m okay.” 

You tuck the ends of the towel into his hands, “Better get showered up and dressed.” Joe just nods and stumbles past you and into the locker room. Roger follows closely behind, teasing Joe relentlessly.

“You’re fallin’ harder than I thought.”

“Roger!” Joe grinds his teeth, huffing and puffing. “You need better jokes.”

Joe spends that night struggling to focus on his schoolwork. He has math homework that needs doing. He has books to read. The one in his hands now periodically goes in and out of focus as Joe’s mind wanders. On the page is the story of a western novel, a man had found a girl walking alone the road at dusk, all on her own. He didn’t want to leave her to the coyotes, so he offered her a ride into the nearest town. They were riding horseback across the prairie. Her arms wound tightly around him; her hands splayed over his chest. 

Her hands—

Her hands—

What is wrong with you, Joe?

Joe reads this line over and over again. Each time he nears the end his brain short circuits and all he can think about are your hands on your shoulders. You hadn’t even really touched him, at least not his skin.  Yet the only thing shooting through his neurons are the sensations of your fingers along his skin. That imaginary touch he can conjure up so perfectly. He eventually gives in and skips down a few paragraphs. He reads late into the night and the phantom touches are still nagging his senses when he closes the book and rolls over to sleep. 

…

Day after day, Joe sees you at practice. You congratulate him when he makes the team and help him with his technique every once and a while. “Roll your wrists just a bit more.” Your fingers would poke at his forearms and direct him in graceful strokes. It fries his brain. You give pointers to the rest of the team too, working closely with Bolles and Pocock to get them in racing shape. It’s not long into the season when Ulbrickson decides to switch coxswains. 

“This is Bobby Moch. Your new jockey.” Bolles announces one day. Bobby is short and slender and sharp tongued.  The second he climbs in the boat and starts barking out commands, Joe is flabbergasted. Who is Bobby to talk to the team this way? But they all find themselves obeying his every word. What really irks Joe about Bobby is how friendly he is with you. You exchange jokes and poke fun at each other. Joe tells himself that he just thinks it’s inappropriate to flirt with the coach’s wife but beneath it all he’s incredibly jealous that Bobby can make you laugh so easily. It makes Joe pine for attention in a way that he never has before. 

The day of their race against California, Joe is all jitters and nerves. He bounces on the balls of his feet and shakes his hands, trying to loosen the anxiety. Streamers and garlands of flags decorate the locker room and the campus. People have gathered in clusters along the course and wave flags of purple and gold. The smell of popcorn and peanuts permeates the air and Joe promises to indulge himself if they win.

As the crew carried their shell down to the water, they begin chanting to themselves. “Bow down to Washington!” They neglect the varsity’s jeers and clip their oars into position. They spot Coach Ulbrickson in the stands, you at his side. And then there’s another woman. And Ulbrickson hugs her. And then he kisses her.

Right in front of you! What is going on?

“Rantz! Eyes on me!” Bobby hollers. But Joe can’t help stealing another confused glance. “I said quite drooling over coach’s daughter and LOOK AT ME!”

Joe feels like an idiot. He puts his head down in shame and tightens his grip on the oar. Ulbrickson joins them on the dock and gives one of his famously encouraging speeches. Joe is only half paying attention. They push off and are left with lovely Bobby hyping them up while they wait for the race to start. They lean forward, like a bow drawn for a shot. And then the white flag flies and the boats shoot away from the docks.

There’s nothing but blur as Joe rows. He can only focus on the muscled shoulders of Don Hume in the stroke seat as Bobby screams at them. “28!”

About halfway through the course, Bobby demands the stroke rate be upped and Don performs. The shell lurches forward, eating up the distance between Washington and Cal until the JV boat surpasses the Berkeley blokes. Then the boat is cutting across the finish line, a clean win. Adrenaline rushes Joe’s veins. He throws his fists in the air as the team splashes and roars. They’re inevitably drowned out by the crowd who bursts up in a shower of peanuts and Washington flags. 

Coach Ulbrickson, the new woman Joe assumes his Ulbrickson’s wife, and you rush the dock as the boys climb out of the boat. “Excellent job.” Mrs. Ulbrickson shakes their hands as they unclip their oars. Bolles is compassionate enough to give them each a pat on the back as they hoist the boat over their heads and haul it off. 

Joe can’t help but notice the copious amounts of onlookers pooling around the shell as they carry it back to the shellhouse. They set it down on the stands and before they can even take their hands off the shell, they are bombarded by Washington fans. Girls reaching out to stroke their biceps or kiss their cheeks. Joe has never received attention like this once in his life. He’s as polite as possible, brushing off a few girls here and there and shaking the hand of the occasional fellow. Shorty has accumulated a few lipstick stains on his cheek. Don Hume is blushing from the tips of his ears down to the point of his freckled nose. Chuck and Roger accept a few hugs. They bask in the winners’ glory for only a few moments until the varsity team strolls by. They make a comment to Moch that Joe doesn’t catch but judging by the way Bobby’s shoulders square he can make obvious conclusions.

“You rowed so well today, Joe.” He hears your voice, and his palms start to sweat.

“Thanks, I uh—” It occurs to him that he doesn’t actually know a thing about you. “Sorry, I don’t think I’ve ever gotten your name.” You smile at him, and syllables fall out but the crowd is too loud. “What?” Your grasp his shoulder and lean in, the sound of your name echoes off the shell of his ear. 

When you pull away, you’re still smiling but before Joe can ask you another question, Bobby is buzzing by with a play-by-play of exactly what happened in Bobby’s world. 

You shade your eyes and peer down at the docks, “Looks like dad is almost done with the varsity. I should get down there.” You say, and Bobby turns around to talk to Shorty. “Hey. Will I see you at the party tonight?” Your hand rests on Joe’s shoulder. He prays you can’t feel his heart skip a beat. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there.”

“Good. You had better save a dance for me, Joe Rantz.”

You leave him breathless, the butterflies in his stomach so vicious that he shudders. He watches you disappear down the pathway to the dock and his heart starts hammering with anticipation. You want to dance with him. You want to touch his hands, touch him. And then he remembers that you already did that, he was too focused on the motion of your lips that he’d hardly registered the sensation of your hands on his arm. Damn! What had it felt like? He’d remembered it’d made him flabbergasted and choked his speech but he couldn’t remember how the grooves in your palm felt as they brushed over his skin. The warmth of your fingertips. He curses himself out and vanishes into the locker room to get changed.

…

The dance rolls around rather too quickly and Joe is swimming in nerves. He has to tie his tie twice because he messes up so badly, he can’t even draw it tight to his neck. Roger found out all too quickly and hasn’t let Joe catch a break.

“A date with coach’s daughter. Careful Joe, Ulbrickson might throw you off the team if he catches the wrong look in your eye.” 

“Shut up, Roger, I’m not greasy like you”

“Ouch, that hurts me.”

“Clearly not enough.” Joe hisses as he finally gets his tie right. 

“Feels like I’m a father about to send his kid off to prom.” 

Joe sighs and throws on his suit coat. “Oh, please—”

“Look at you fly, shooting out of your league.” 

Roger works a smile onto Joe’s face, and they set off for the party. Spring is finally warming the campus up from a brutal winter and a few couples mull around outside. Joe and Roger find their way into the crowded gymnasium, both shocked by just how loud it is. Joe can’t even hear his own thoughts. They spot the team almost immediately, clustered around tables, drinks in their hands. A few of the boys are dancing with some lovely dames, a few are leaned against the wall having close conversations. Don is sitting by himself on a bench a few feet away from the refreshment table, watching the dance floor. Joe is turning to follow Roger towards the other boys but an arm loops through his, “Thought you weren’t going to show.” You practically shout. 

Joe can’t help but grin as you capture his attention. “You weren’t joking.”

“Not a bit, Rantz, didn’t have any other dancing plans except for this one.”

“Guess I should make it worth your wait then.” Joe leads you into the thicket of bodies.

He prides himself on the laugh you let out, “please do,” you say as he takes your hands and spins to face you.  He places his hand high on your waist and cradles the other gently in his palm. He can feel the smooth plains of you hand against his. Each crease and each callous. His are no doubt unbelievably rough from the rowing and he would feel bad but right now all he can feel are your fingers lacing through his. “You’re not half bad.” You tease. Joe knows his cheeks are heating up to a flaming red. Probably his ears too. 

His hand migrates to the small of your back as the music changes into a soft slow song. “I’ll be completely honest,” he starts, “I had no idea you were the coach’s daughter.”

“Then who else would I be?” 

“I thought you were his wife.” He looks away sheepishly, but your laughter is so unrestrained and whole that Joe’s heart melts. You can’t stop laughing either and it’s contagious. 

“You’re an engineering student, right?” Your shoes brush as you sway with him. 

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“Joyce.” Joe’s heart drops. In his infatuation he’d forgotten all about her. “She was trying to hit on you, but she figured out that your attention was elsewhere.”

“You too are good friends then?”

“Just since the start of the year. We have an English class together.” You and Joe talk for a while, it forces you to be close and neither of you care to separate. Eventually, you move outside and sit with sit with Joe on the steps of the gym. It’s still chilly out and you sit close to Joe which he doesn’t mind one bit. At some point your head rests on his shoulder and you close your eyes. Joe can do nothing but stare down at you, his mouth agape. 

“Why is your heart beating so fast?” You trace his knuckles with your pointer finger.

Joe’s head pounds, his mouth dry, “This has never happened to me before.”

“None of the girls from high school? Never?”

“Not one.”

You look up at Joe and reach to smooth back a blond curl. “Shame, they were missing out.” This makes Joe smile again and he’s immensely pleased with how easily you do that to him. Make him happy. He hasn’t felt like this since… he can’t remember when. Sure, he was happy when the team won but that was different. That was pride. So was making the team. This feels more affectionate, closer to the heart. He wonders if this is what love feels like but that would be silly; he’s only known your name for a day. He’s also never been flattered quite like this. Besides Joyce, he can’t think of anyone else who’s actually been interested in him. Certainly not one who compliments him the way you do. 

People start to drain out of the gym very slowly and Joe checks his watch. “So late already?”

“Guess I should get home; my dad will be wrought with worry.” You joke and straighten out your skirt. 

“Can I walk you home?”

“I would love that.”

Joe offers you his hand, “Where does coach live?” 

“Not too far.” You accept his calloused hand and direct him off campus. Surprisingly, Joe has read the book you’re reading for English and time flies as you discuss the book. Then Joe makes a sobering comment that makes you stop and study him. 

“His parents remind me of my own.”

Joe realizes what he’s let slip, “Don’t worry about it too much. I’m okay.”

“Can I ask what happened?”

Joe presses his lips into a line and stares down at his worn shoes. A wave of self-consciousness washes over him as he realizes how ragged of a life he has lived and just how much it shows. “Well—”

“Is this why you have a hard time trusting your team?”

“Hey now,”

“Sorry.” You take his hands.

He grimaces and squeezes your soft palms. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yes.” 

Joe sighs and swipes a thumb across your knuckles. “My Pops just… left me one day. Told me I’d be fine on my own.” Joe gives you parts of the story. Mostly what he feels like stomaching at the moment.

When he’s finished you let go of his hands and cup his cheeks. He sinks into the touch, soaking it up like a flower budding in sunlight. You don’t say anything, you just look at him. You look at him like he’s the only thing that’s ever mattered and his heart trembles because he has never once known what it’s like to be that for someone else. And then you stand on tip toes and plant a hearty kiss on his forehead. “This is it actually,” you gesture behind you at the hosue that must be the Ulbricksons’. “I’ll see you tomorrow at practice?”

“Yeah.” The spot on his forehead that you kissed tingles. “Nowhere else I’d want to be.”

…

The Poughkeepsie Regatta rolls around all too quickly and Ulbrickson has to make a decision. The varsity boat who deserves it. Or the JV boat who could win it. His hands sweat as he stands on at that pulpit and reads off his preplanned speech. As he talks, he thinks about the future of the rowing program. The jobs it has provided him and Bolles. About how Pocock would have to find work elsewhere and it’d kill Al Ulbrickson to send him away. 

He leans into the mic and spits, “and that boat is our JV boat.” It has to be them. They have to win. Moans and groans blow his way as the crowd rejects his announcement. Regret washes over him but he cannot take this back. He has to be right about his crew. He tips his hat and hustles off the podium as the JV bursts into celebration. He has to be right.

…

Joe is more than pleased to see you on the train to Poughkeepsie. He slides into the car with you, and you chat away. You were fast friends the night of the dance and have since become closer. The kiss on the forehead still lingers sometimes, especially when Joe sees your lips form your smile. You entice him into some card games and eventually a game of chess. At some point, he decides that he needs to sleep and bids you goodnight so that he can find a train car to sleep in. But before he does, he sneaks a chaste kiss onto your knuckles. 

His good mood is stamped out the very next day when the team takes to the water. They don’t row good, and frustration starts to build. Bobby and the coaches try and get them working together, telling them that it’s just nerves and new water. But tensions rise regardless. The days start to dwindle, and the crew is getting worse and worse. 

Blame starts to turn to him, and Joe is at a loss. He doesn’t want to believe that he’s holding the team back, but he thinks back to what you said that night he walked you home. But the most awful feeling creeps over him, not an ounce of care. What’s wrong with him. This crew has been the only family he’s had in years. He needs them. But he can’t bring himself to admit it. 

Before he knows it, it slips and Ulbrickson is exiling him from the boat. As the crew watches Joe storm away, their spare crawls in and they set off for another row. Bolles taps you on the shoulder, “you had better see if you can do anything. Enlist Pocock if you have to.” Your father nods along.

You set out to find him, not that it was hard there’s not many places he can go alone. He’s stuffing his suitcase when you find him. “Don’t start.” He snaps. Then he sees your expression and his anger sours. “I’m sorry. Shouldn’t—”

“Don’t give up on your team, Joe.”

“I’m not.”

“You are, you’re quitting and throwing everything you’ve worked for away.”

“Don’t, don’t even start to pretend you know me.” He realizes too late that he’s made everything so much worse and before he can fix a thing Pocock is at the door.

“I could use some help putting another coat of oil on the shell.”

You duck past Pocock and leave Joe with a painful pit of remorse in his stomach. He follows Pocock and takes the talking to straight to the heart. As he lathers on a thick coat of oil, he figures he can bargain with Ulbrickson in the morning, but he should make a proper apology to you now. He racks his brain for anything that would make it right, but he’s horrifically inexperienced and it’s crippling him now. He feels like a child having a tantrum. He feels miniscule and insignificant.

After Joe dunks his brush into the whale oil can for the last time, he figures he’d better just confront the issue head on since he has no way of handling it delicately. He has no grace and he’s sure you’re aware of this. Pocock gives him an encouraging pat and takes the can from him. Joe winds his way back to the hotel and through the halls. Your room is on the second floor, third door down. He knocks gently, eyes lingering on the hideous carpet and tacky sconces. The door swings open after a moment and Joe is met with your disapproving glower. His tongue seems to swell in his mouth so badly that he worries it’ll flop out when he tries to speak. 

“Coffee?” You ask when you realize he will stand there silently forever if you don’t let him in. 

“No… I just wanted to—to apologize.”

“Oh really.” Your eyebrow quirks.

Joe is fumbling for words. You stand aside and motion for him to step inside so you can have this discussion in privacy. “I know that was wrong to take out my frustration on you. That wasn’t fair and none of it is your fault.” He twiddles his thumbs. How does he go about this without absolutely butchering it? “I just—” As he trails off, he notices a hurt dullness in your eyes. He recognizes it as pity. “You and the crew are really all I’ve got, and I’m so scared I’m going to lose it.”

“These boys aren’t going to leave you behind unless you separate yourself from them like today.”

“I know.

“Really?”

“Pocock made sure I know.”

The edges of your lips tilt up. You pull him down onto the foot of the bed and take his hand. “Are you actually going to try and trust them?”

“Don’t have enough faith to put it in anyone else.”

You squeeze his hand and trace a finger along his jawline, sweeping a knuckle under his chin. You force his stubborn gaze to you and find nothing but desperation. Wanting things like this doesn’t come natural to Joe and it shows, but he’s not so different from the other boys in that boat. 

You reach up and fiddle with a curl, “apology accepted.” Tears pool in the corners of his eyes and he tries to choke them down. You place a hand on his chest and rest your forehead on his. His breath fans over your cheeks. The tip of his nose brushes yours. His shoulders sag inwards and he reaches for your waist. 

“Can I—may I kiss you?”

Joe’s sweetness never fails to amaze you. You cradle his face and bring him closer. “Yes, Joe.” His breath hitches and his lips finally meet yours for the very first time. He’s gentle but generous and lets you kiss him for as long as you like. His arms wrap around you fully and hold you to his chest. He gets the feeling that he’ll be craving these moments all the time now, finally understanding what Roger and Chuck rave about. He’s hooked on your lips and your weight against him and when you pull away it breaks his heart. 

“You should get cleaned up before you talk to my father, you smell like whale oil.”

...

Dear Reader,

Thank you for reading this. If you'd like to request, feel free to do so. I always love you in my inbox. I hope you enjoyed this fic and if you like it please check out my masterlist for more. Have nice day.

-the author

[erwinsvow]

wait I still absolutely love love love kook trio reader with Rafe and because I think Rafe trying to control himself because he’s her ‘friend’ is so funny to me because hello I love him but I can totally get around to her and JJ 🤭

rafe thought he was really good at it—keeping himself under control. he thought no one else could see through the hard exterior, that he was keeping the possessiveness he felt over you well concealed.

he wasn't.

if the obvious staring at all the times of the day weren't enough, he was touchy with you, touchier than what was considered normal for your little friend group. you were the touchy one, always leaning against kelce's shoulder in the backseat when you were sleepy or keeping your feet splayed across top's lap during evenings spent out on the boat.

and though at first you had been the touchiest of all with rafe, he was starting to overtake you. a hand on your waist on the course, only pulling away when it was his turn to swing. sitting in the chair closest to you during lunch at the club, keeping his hand on the back of your seat, pulled closer to his than normal.

even during parties when he'd normally stalk off to sell and flirt with random girls—something that you used to be okay with but now made you feel a little unsettled, a little queasy—he was glued to your side, making sure the drink in your hand was from him, making sure your head only rested against his shoulder, your legs on his lap.

and normally, you ignored it. a little part of you was pleased, you'd always liked rafe the best, maybe because he had been the hardest to win over. when you first started hanging out with the boys, he'd put up the biggest fight, if topper and kelce were to be believed. rafe was the one who had been opposed, the one who thought a girl would ruin the vibes.

so it was nice, almost strangely satisfying, that he was so attached to you now. trying to be a good friend, like he always put it, like today.

rafe had given you a can of mango seltzer poured into a solo cup. what he didn't know was that topper had poured about two shots of vodka into the cup when rafe walked away to make a quick sell. and then kelce had topped you off again when rafe went to go make his own drink, so as a result, you were deliciously drunk, leaning back on the couch, pushing the soles of your feet against rafe's thighs while he kept a firm hand on your knee so you didn't tip over and fall off.

you giggle at his touch, everything feeling hot and tingly.

"really? that fizzy shit does this to you?" he asks, low and quiet. at first you're a little quiet, and he's a little worried—you're never quiet. but you laugh, thudding your head gently back on the arm of the sofa.

"rafe, when has one can ever done this to me? you're funny." you say, pushing yourself up and balancing on your elbows to look at him. you look pretty, enticingly so, almost enough to distract him from your words. the short denim skirt and white shirt is among his favorites, and he stares a little longer than he normally would.

you don't notice—he's always staring at you.

"what's that supposed to mean?"

"how do you think that bottle of vodka got empty so quickly?"

"they gave you more?" rafe questions, his hand coming to your ankles to hoist them to the side so he can stand up. he searches for topper and kelce, spotting them with two girls by the pool table, and just as he starts to take the first step, you sit up, grabbing his wrist and holding him back.

"hey! what the hell's that about?" rafe turns to look back you, staring up at him with your pretty eyes and confused expression. "i always drink with you guys. why would i stop now?"

"because i had said-"

"yes, i know you said not to." he sits back down, body facing yours, too close not to arouse suspicions from other people watching. you don't mind though, you're used to it. "i know you're being a good friend rafe, but i can't stop having fun because you're worried about me."

the alcohol has made you surprisingly honest—normally he thinks you whack the side of his head and call him an idiot.

"right.." rafe says slowly, processing the words. "a good friend. right. i am."

"i know you are." you lie back down, swinging your feet across his lap again, resuming position.

he strokes the skin of your legs, all the way from your thigh to your ankle. a boy walking by stares at your short skirt, but darts away when he sees how rafe's looking at him.

"you're all good friends," you ramble. "so nice to me, especially you. i thought you hated me at first. sometimes i worry you still do."

"could never hate you, kid."

you giggle again, taking another sip of your drink.

"stop being an idiot then, and have fun. i'll go get you another scotch if that's what it takes."

the night goes like that until kelce and top rejoin, and even then, you somehow end up like always—asleep next to rafe at tannyhill. you wake up to the blare of your alarm, while rafe covers his ears with the pillow.

"turn that shit off," he mumbles. "where the hell are you goin' so early?" you yawn, stretching next to him. he looks up, eyes opening by themselves, yearning to catch a glimpse of exposed skin.

"i have to go back home. will you bring me? pleeease?" you elongate the word, singing it sweetly so he'll comply.

"right now? why?"

"i'm going on a lunch date. i wanna get ready, y'know, look nice," you say, turning off your alarm and fiddling with something on your phone, replying to a text he thinks.

rafe sits up immediately.

"a date? with who?"

"um, this guy my friend buys weed from sometimes. he's nice, though, not weird at all. well, not weird like that, like not creepy, but he's funny-"

"shut up. you're not going." you turn from your position to look at him.

"rafe, you're so weird. friends are supposed to be excited for each other."

"right. excited."

"c'mon let's go, i don't wanna be late." you gather your discarded clothes on the floor, but keep his shirt on, wearing it home like you always do.

"friends," he mumbles to himself. friends. that's when he decided he was gonna have to do something about you.

[meidnightrain]

HOW YOU GET THE GIRL - wanderer

❝ and you know that i don’t want you to go. remind me how it used to be, pictures in frames of kisses on cheeks. ❞

summary: presenting…nahida’s foolproof and totally not subtle plan to get you and the wanderer together after endless pining!

warnings: contrary to the title the reader is gn, slight ooc(?)

notes: day 10! just got back from watching the eras movie and three hour long karaoke session so i’m a bit worn down but i decided to go along with this anyway cause i really wanted to work with this idea i had, plus i’m a sucker for my puppet boy. i hope this meets your expectations hehe

taglist (open): @staretes , @rynnlvrs , @sentifua , @i-probably-sleep-too-much , @reilly34 , @qqingque , @akutasoda , @mhiieee , @starryshinyskies , @rintosae , @kazemiya , @pix-stuff

“presenting…nahida’s foolproof plan to get name!” the dendro archon announced, an unamused wanderer rolling his eyes at her while the aranara amongst the clapped with their stubby little arms.

“how do you even know that this will work?” he asked warily, suspicion edged in his sharp tone. it did nothing to the young goddess who shrugged it off, tapping her temple with a cheeky wink.

“you should trust me on this.” is all that she said, leaving the former harbinger to place his fate in her hands. with the help of her and the aranara, maybe he did have a chance to woo you and nudge the both of you out of the friendzone. even the archons knew how impossible it was for him to say that in front of you.

you were a member of the akademiya, practically a nobody in a literary school which had the pride of being the best of the best. you were mediocre in your field, helpful and kind. you were patient too. when nahida had first enrolled him in select courses held, you had offered to show him the ropes due to being in similar classes despite getting off on the wrong foot.

was that what had pulled him in? how normal you were, being what he had longed to be? he could be himself with you, never needing to keep up that standoffish attitude of his, but still not willing to open his newly acquired heart to you just yet in fear of betrayal. three times was enough for him, he mused as he stood outside the door to your home.

it was raining, pouring in fact. usually he would have shelter from his hat but for some reason, nahida had taken it into her safekeeping. he was a puppet too, he didn’t really understand why he had to act so…so…pitiful in a sorry state in front of you just to get you to like him.

“be vulnerable around name, that will show that when you are with them, you can let down your guard and be your truest self with them.” the archon had explained, ignoring the way that the aranara were using his hat as a boat in the water and sailing off into vanarana.

he murmured a curse, looking around to make sure that no one would see him like this. his eyes landed on an ahoge that stuck out from a pile of crates followed by the familiar chatter of aranaras. great, she was watching this whole humiliating exchange. was pursuing this feeling he thought he harboured towards you really worth it?

with a heavy heart, he knocked on your door, making a show of rubbing his arms like he was cold because of the rain though the only feeling his synthetic arms had were false goosebumps due to anticipation.

you opened your door to your shock to find a shivering wanderer with a frown on his face. it wasn’t uncommon to see him not smiling but this time his smile was different…was it an uncomfortable frown?

“are you insane? it’s raining what are you doing here?!” you whisper-shrieked, making a thought to lower your voice in respect for your neighbours. that only made him fall deeper into this black hole he was trying to claw his way out of, curse you and your thoughtfulness.

“it’s been a long day,” he grumbled, not meeting your eyes in embarrassment for resorting to such measures. he was the wanderer, the former sixth harbinger, kabukimono, practically a god. how was it that he was tripping over his own feet when you were in front of him? he hated it so much but at the same time, he wanted more of it. a small part of normalcy he had dreamed of when he was still a young naive puppet, something that he had longed for was now presented to him on a silver platter.

he was afraid though, not that he would admit it. afraid to tell you what he wanted. he wanted to have framed pictures of the both of you together, have kisses on cheeks, have cuddles and someone to confide in. he wanted you.

“i left you alone at the library, i skipped classes cause i was lazy to go,” is what comes out of his mouth, you merely raised your eyebrow.

“you…you’re standing in the heavy rain to tell me that you skipped classes cause you didn’t want to go…and that you were lazy to study so you didn’t show up today?” you repeat with a perplexed expression, making the wanderer and nahida facepalm internally at his mess-up.

“i must have lost my mind…” he mumbled to himself, taking a deep breath that he didn’t need and looking you in the eyes, recalling the words that the archon of wisdom had given him.

“i want you, whether it be for worse or better. i would wait forever and ever for you. if you ever broke your heart, i’ll put it back together. i think i like you, name.” he said with what looked like a pained expression. the silence was loud, so loud that you could almost hear mythical aranaras waddling around in the background of the pouring rain.

it seems her plan didn’t work as expected, and he had ruined whatever relationship he had hoped to have with you. what did he expect, trusting a god and a bunch of sumeru fairies in the affairs of mortals? looking at your starstruck face, he decided to pick himself up and walk away while he still could.

“it was a waste of time coming here, as expected.” he tried to save face, scoffing loudly and turning away from you, still drenched in the rain. that was until he felt a hand grab his arm softly, warmth flooding his hollow puppet shell at your gentle grip.

“wait, would you like to come in? you’re probably freezing and…yes, i think i like you too, wanderer.” you said quickly, giving him a genuine grin which caused him to hold back a smile and an uncharacteristic yell.

in the distance, he could hear the cheers of nahida and the aranara, though your mortal ears wouldn’t be able to pick it up. nahida was right, he begrudgingly admitted on how to get you.

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[sukunasweetheart]

That classmate sukuna post was just 🤌 a part 2 with dating headcanons pls🫣 if you take requests. Thank you 💕

the referenced post is over here thank you for enjoying! hope you like these extras as well <3

what would dating classmate sukuna be like??

well, at the beginning, its mostly sukuna dragging you around to places after school... he knows all the obscure food places that nobody is aware of- you know those dingy looking places that serve top tier food? yea.

you wonder if this is his idea of what "dates" are, just sitting and eating together lmao, but your heart still flutters even if a lot of the time there is pretty little conversation other than the usual bickering the two of you do because he does little things like giving you the last dumpling or whatever else it is that he's ordered as a side or pouring you a glass of water before he pours himself one

its like this until you begin taking more initiative and suggest the two of you do other things as a couple, like watching movies and going to cute aesthetic cafes, whatever floats your boat! (he'll most likely have a bored look on his face, but look, he'll find some way of having fun, because he always has you to tease, after all)

he probably enjoys more active date stuff like going to the arcade! throwing basketballs into the hoops, shooting games, table hockey, you name it (good luck winning against him)

will probably make everything into a competition and challenge you... and the loser gets a flick to the forehead, or something like that

(you shut your eyes and brace yourself at the end of each game for the impact, but it doesnt come for a while... when you crack open one eye a little, you see that hes smirking in that endearing way at you, because you look so cute with your eyes closed like that, waiting for him)

definitely goes easy on you, and the gentle flick gets you all flustered and shy

(maybe he gets bored of flicking towards the end and gives you a kiss instead)

cough cough anyway

on your way out of the arcade, if you make puppy eyes at him while gesturing at the claw machine filled with cute plushies, maybe he'll cave in and get one for you

what gets shoved into your arms afterwards is a big ass kirby plush

he doesnt get whats so good about such a dull looking creature, but whatever makes you happy, i guess

at school, nothing much changes except that hes a bit more affectionate with his bullying-- arm around your shoulder, sneaky kisses in the hallways, cuddling behind the school building on some days, but its not like the two of you are joined hip to hip constantly, since he has his friends and you have yours

dont bother taking him on study dates - or, if you wanna see him doze off, you should because thats all he'd do, since sukuna does the bare minimum when it comes to studying and still gets good grades

dont ask him to tutor you, he'd be a really mean teacher

but, well, if theres something that you're really struggling with, i guess he wont be opposed to helping out a little, in exchange for something like a free meal later

(but he ends up paying anyway.. when you tell him about the agreement earlier, he'll go "did i say that? i forgot. whatever, just leave it be." its just his tsundere way of saying "dont worry about it" bc he actually has no intention of making you pay for him)

sukuna does his daily activities of beating up losers and getting regular detentions, but now he also finds pleasure in seeing you waiting for him during after school hours by the entrance to walk home with him

is smug 24/7 and its incredibly hard to fluster him

but maybeee it happens once when you give him a big fat kiss on the lips before running away, which stuns him a little

(is definitely gonna chase you up for a second one. better watch out, hes fast as fuck boi)

Masterlist <3

[prettyshon10]

TOWL EP. 4

SPOILERS

- Poured some wine for this one; let’s go

- Whose house is this? It’s nice (was that a roomba I saw?)

- Yes, thunder! Set the atmosphere!

- I will never skip these opening credits

- The body is giviiiiing! Danaiiii!

- That man is lusting—omg, he see’s the scar!

- It’s literally takes me twice as long as the episodes’ run time ‘cause I keep pausing and rewinding, but can you blame me? I’m trying to take EVERYTHING in; I’m tryna savor

- “You’ve become a bit of a creative writer these days. That note? In the getaway boat? Poetry.”

- She’s MAD mad, y’all!

- “Children”! She said “children”! He caught that!

- Only 7 minutes in and this ep has me in a chokehold; Imma need more wine

- I knew it wasn’t gonna be that easy; sorry to y’all theories

- THEY ARE ACTING!!!! ACTING!!! The mannerisms—the cracked voices raised in anger! The fact that NOBODY on the TWD cast bagged an Emmy is so freakin CRIMINAL!!!

- Yo! Automated Voice! SHUT UP!

- She ain’t giving you that thing, sir.

- “What did they do to you?” The angst is angsting.

- “Do you still love me?” STOOOOOOP! I’m done! 😭Cut the show—

- Now the sun’s coming out from behind the storm clouds…

- Round three of “They won’t come after us if we’re “dead””, huh?

- I’m totally sure Jadis would not believe they’re dead. They’re Rick and Michonne. She knows better.

- Shout out to my subscription plan—I love not sitting through commercials!

- Sis is really whacking him over head with the “what about the kids?!” approach

- The black woman in her is leaping out and I love it; baby said “deuces, then.”

- Don’t tell me she’s waiting for him to follow her…

- And he wants to!!! The tropes are troping!

- My wine is gone and I’m not even halfway into the episode. I’m gonna throw myself out the window, I swear…

- I hear a chopper; no no no no no

- Not her sassing him 😂 I love snarky Michonne

- “The only time I feel safe is when I’m with you.”

- Even at their most divided, they’re a forced to be reckoned with. Look at them fight together!

- Not him getting blood on her face! Rick, she’s pissed enough as it is!

- Automated Voice, I’m not doing this with you, again!

- The way she grounds him back to reality in the midst of his panic. How very “sun’s getting real low” of them. ❤️

- Inject this entire scene into my veins

- Bathed in the golden glow of this light; it’s the little things

- RJ really does look just like Rick. Shout out to the casting director. Man’s genes said “you’re gonna carry a lightly melanated clone, and that’s final!”

- This show is literally fan service done the RIGHT WAY; other shows takes notes

- Not the roomba sneaking a peak! Caught my boy off guard—he was ready to fight

- Finally, he’s asking about the mark

- “Carl. They took Carl.” Excuse me?!

- “I can’t live without you. Without you, I die.”

- Andrew Lincoln wants me deceased: confirmed. This is a personal attack, I’m sure of it

- Oh lord, not the Carl drawing…

- I just…😫😭

- Elevator make out! One thing about my faves, they’re gonna get it in anytime, any place! And walker killing is an aphrodisiac!

- In the car, too! 😂

- Things are totally gonna go left; only question is how

- Wait, it’s over?!

[applebutter-and-cinnamon]

Breath of Life

Pairing: Joe Rantz x OC (Sadie)

Warnings: Drowning, Choking on Water, Passing out, Being unable to swim

Disclaimer: I've never actually drowned before, so if I've gotten some things wrong I apologize. Also, this is not intended to be read as the real person who was Joe Rantz.

Boys in the Boat Masterlist

Joe's lungs were burning when Bobby finally yelled at them to ease up. Coach Ulbrickson signaled at them to head back to the docks when they were ready before speeding off in his boat ahead of them.

It was an unusually sunny day in Seattle. The water was calm and they had glided through the water easily all throughout practice. He was winded and tired, but in a remarkably good mood. The boys ahead and behind him were tilting their heads back toward the sun and running their fingers through the crisp water outside their boat.

Bobby let them all rest a moment before signaling with a shout to begin rowing back to the shell house. They rowed as if each passing second was a luxury. He and the rest of his shells crew were a well-oiled unit when they were all focused on keeping their heads in the boat and nowhere but in the boat.

They pulled up to the docks, pulled themselves out of the shell, and carried it out of the water into the shell house. Bobby, who was too short to be much of a help in carrying it, walked in front of them. He cleared the way and opened doors, making it easier for them to store it quickly.

Joe only felt the day catch up to him when they hit the showers and he felt the long, continuous stream of water falling softly against the skin of his back. He was hoping to see Sadie later in the day, she liked to study under a giant oak tree after her last lecture of the day and if he caught her in a good mood, he thought he might be able to convince her to study later and spend some time with him instead.

He wasn't the only guy in the boat with a girl he was eager to get to after practice. Roger had a date lined up with his Annie and Shorty had said something earlier about meeting up with a new girl that he'd met the previous night. Joe had never seen Don with a girl, but he was pretty sure that his stroke had plans to study with Bobby.

Joe toweled off and dressed himself quickly, his mind navigating the quickest path towards the oak tree that Sadie loved. He'd finished tying his shoes when the first desperate screams of a young woman echoed through the boathouse.

There was a brief moment, when the guys shared shocked looks with one another before they all burst into motion. Leaving through the locker room door and out into the main storage room of the shell house. Moving quickly, he was able to see the coaches also peaking their heads out of their office in alarm. Mr. Pocock appeared too, out of the workshop on the second story and holding a tool in his right hand.

To Joe's surprise he recognized the girl who was panicking desperately in the face of one of the freshman boys. It was Lily, one of Sadie's friends, who was pulling harshly at the boys arm trying to get him to follow her.

"Lily?" She turned toward him the second he called out her name in confusion. Her eyes were filled with tears that were pouring down her cheeks as she hurried over to him, grabbing his arm and pulling her with him. She was breathing so hard that it was hard to understand what she was saying outside of an obvious call for help. "What's wrong? What is it?"

He didn't like the look she was giving him. It was so full of not just fear, but blood curdling panic. It wasn't for her though, it seemed to be for someone else and at the way she was gripping his arm, turning it white with her strength, Joe had a stomach dropping feeling at who it might be for.

"It's Sadie, someone pushed her in the water."

~~~

Sadie tilted her head back, basking in the beautiful Seattle sunshine. It had been days, upon days of endless rainfall and when the clouds had parted to reveal the sun's golden rays shining through the windows in her lecture hall, she couldn't help but smile. Thankfully, her professor had also seen the rare sunshine and had released them early for the day, rushing his way out ahead of everyone else.

Following the rest of her classmates out into the warm air, Sadie saw the oak tree that normally pulled her to rest beneath it's offer of shade. Whether to study or to stare at a cloudy sky, she normally would take it up on it's offer of respite.

Sadie glanced down at the watch on her wrist, she'd gotten out of her lecture early enough that if she hurried, she might be able to catch Joe after practice. She missed him. He had been extremely busy between rowing, saving money up for his tuition, and his homework that it had been hard for them to find the time to spend together. She was determined to find the time to spend with him today.

She redirected her course and set out for the University of Washington's shell house. It was a little bit far from where her lecture was, but it was so nice out that Sadie found herself enjoying the walk. The breeze messed her hair but it also carried the scent of fresh water and sweet grass. She had to meander around groups of other students but it was so nice to see everyone smiling instead of rushing from building to building.

The ground grew steeper, sloping down towards the water's edge as she drew closer. From a distance, she could make out a group of tall, young men carrying their boats inside. She couldn't see Joe's crew but there wasn't anyone else out on the water either so she assumed that he was inside showering and resigned herself to waiting.

She had begun to look for a large tree to occupy her time under when she spotted a flickering hand in the air, waving back and forth to get her attention. Following the hand down, she was met with the dazzling white smile of Lily. She was smiling so hard that Sadie wondered if her cheeks were hurting, nevertheless, Sadie couldn't help but smile back at her, waving as she did.

"Come over here," Lily yelled, waving her over to where she rested on one of the floating docks. Sadie hesitated.

It shouldn't have been a big deal. Many of the other students liked to lay on the docks during nice weather to watch the rowing teams compete at the end of practice, but Sadie, who had never learned to swim had always found herself a bit uneasy on the docks. They had no railing and the water stretched endlessly down below them.

When Joe had taken her out to row she'd been nervous enough to distract herself from the uneasiness of being out on the open water. Plus, Joe had kept a steady hand on the small of her back, keeping her upright whenever she stumbled. Where Lily was on the docks, she'd have to navigate down a good portion of floating wood around some of the other students who were standing to leave now that practice was over and heading in the other direction.

Sadie glanced at the shell house, thinking over her own fears and looked back to where Lily was smiling brightly. It couldn't hurt, she guessed, and she wouldn't have to stay long. Once Joe came out she could quickly head back to the safety that was dry ground and spend the rest of her evening with her beau.

"Sadie!" Lily called again, laughing slightly in bewilderment at the stalled movement of her friend.

She forced a bright smile and placed a hesitant foot on the first slat of wood, "I'm coming!"

She kept one arm around her school books keeping them close to her chest as more of a comforting pressure than to keep them from falling in the water and she used her other arm, low as it was by her side, for stability. Sadie moved slowly, as courageous as she was trying to be, she could feel how hard her heart pounded and was perfectly fine with taking her time.

Moving quickly in the other direction, the last group of students on the docks walked by her and jostled the wood slightly as they did. She inhaled sharply at the movement then smiling politely as they tossed her concerned glances at the noise. She waited a moment for the dock to steady then continued on at her leisurely pace.

Sadie glanced up to measure the amount of distance remaining between herself and Lily. It wasn't too much further and then she could lower herself on the blue cotton blanket that Lily had spread out carefully to sit on. She'd already quirked a brow to begin saying something to Lily when the thud of rapid footsteps came up behind her. Sadie didn't have time to look to see who it was before they slammed into her shoulders and knocked her unsteady.

Her books slipped from their careful placement against her chest as her feet slid out from beneath her. She only had enough time to draw in a quick breath before she felt the water close around her head.

It was shockingly cold, she thought to herself. Distantly, she could make out the panicked voice of Lily calling out something above the water. Sadie knew enough about swimming to know that she needed to use her legs to propel herself up the surface of the water. Struggling, she kicked her legs, feeling her shoes slide off of her feet as she did. The water swished around her, moving her up before something tightened at her ankle pulling her back slightly, just as her outstretched finger broke the surface of the water.

She looked down to see a tangled strip of net caught around her ankle. Curling down, she did her best to loosen the net to free her foot from it's confines. Her lungs were burning with the desire to inhale and somewhere in the back of her mind, behind the panic that was building inside of her, she scolded herself for every other time in her life that she'd taken for granted the ability to breathe easily.

The water embraced her, keeping her in it's icy hold and caressing her hair as it floated all about her. It was beautiful, the way the sunlight trickled down through the surface of the water in golden rays. The sun was getting dimmer by the second and she wondered if she were sinking further down.

She couldn't hear Lily's voice anymore and but she hadn't caught the moment it had stopped. What she could hear was the hard pounding of her heart in her head, pounding just as hard as it had the first time she saw Joe smile.

In the next instant the water around her shook, moving her about in the water and bubbles danced along her skin. Rough, warm hands grabbed under her arms in an attempt to pull her up, halting only as the net pulled her back down. Sadie guessed it pulled her farther down this time as the sun's rays continued to disappear from her view.

The same rough hands grabbed her cheeks, shaking her gently and she forced her eyes open. The sun, she thought confused, was starting to look an awful lot like Joe. A very concerned and panicked Joe.

The urge to inhale was too strong for her to resist and her muscle began to work despite her telling it not too, forcing her to inhale a large lungful of icy water. Her body convulsed; hard.

The water shook again, moving further below her and she felt a vibrating sensation from the net around her ankle. She didn't have the energy to look down anymore though, instead, Sadie let her eyes fall closed.

The vibrating stopped after what could've been a moment and she felt herself being pulled through the water again. Rough hands were holding her close to a warm body and she let herself rest there as the world faded into nothing.

Distantly, in the part of her brain that was still working, Sadie was aware of many sets of hands pulling her out of the water and away from the warm chest she'd been resting on. In that same part of her brain, she could hear the panicked voices of Joe's crew as they scrambled around her.

It only took a moment for the familiar rough hands to come back to her, holding her cheeks tenderly for only a moment before she felt firm pressure on her chest. Those hands worked repeatedly against her chest for a moment before they parted her lips. Joe's lips slotted against hers, blowing warm breath into her mouth.

The hands stopped for a moment before picking back up, quicker and with more determination. Hands. Pressure. Lips and breath. Hands. Pressure. Lips and breath. Hands. Pressure. Lips and breath.

After a moment, her brain latched onto the repeated sound of Joe's voice in her ear.

"C'mon baby," he was saying, voice huffing as he worked. Joe's lips pressed against hers and as he breathed into her, she felt something begin to work its way up her lungs.

"Come back to me, Sweetheart," Joe sounded desperate, bordering on hysterical as he called out to her. His lips pressed against her's again, pushing the air into her lungs and this time Sadie forced her eyes open.

Joe knelt above her, blonde hair and a very pale face dripping with water. His eyes trained onto her every movement, while his face was twisted into a pained expression. His endlessly blue eyes were full of tears that he refused to let fall down his face as he concentrated on Sadie.

She gazed at him, unblinking. To her, he looked like the Greek gods of old with his wet, tan skin and shining gold hair. It could very well have been Poseidon or Apollo who had decided to bless her with their presence. Sadie couldn't understand though, why someone so beautiful would be crying and internally cursed whatever situation had put him through such anguish, to hell.

Sadie thought all of this in the split second between when she opened her eyes and when the water surged forward from her lungs back out through her mouth. It spilled over her lips and she felt herself being twisted onto her side as she coughed it out. A large hand rubbing her back as she did. She braced her weight on a shaking elbow so she could cough without hitting her head against the wood.

"There you go, Sadie," Joe encouraged, voice still strained. "Get it all out."

Every breath of air into her lungs caused more water to gush out, burning it's way out of her body. Sadie groaned, she had no idea that water could burn, had thought up until this moment in her life, that it was supposed to be fire's job to burn.

Around her, she could hear the sound of relieved murmuring voices that she had begun to recognize as Joe's crew. After a few agonizing breaths she forced herself to sit up, ignoring the voices telling her to lay down and slumped against Joe, who immediately wrapped her in his arms, supporting all of her weight.

She tucked her head into the darkness between his neck and his shoulder, listening to his heartbeat and listening to his breathing. Sadie forced the oxygen in her own lungs to mimic his rhythm and after a few breaths, Joe caught on to what she was doing.

He began exaggerating his breathing, forcing slow and steady breaths that she could replicate on her own. When she felt like she could breath at a normal rate without focusing all of her brain power to it, she pulled back to look around.

It couldn't have been too much longer since she went under. Lily's blanket was underneath her, the sun was still shining brightly, and the breeze was rustling the leaves of the trees around her. Don Hume was dripping wet, standing closest to them while six other crew members from Joe's boat stood closely behind him. Chuck Day with his arm around a crying Lily.

Joe gripped her cheek with one of his hands, drawing her attention back to him, "I'm going to carry you to the shell house, alright?" His voice trembled slightly but after she nodded her consent, he picked her up and held her securely against his chest. She rested her head against his shoulder, closed her eyes and let his steady rhythm of footfalls lull her away.

~~~

When Sadie gained consciousness, she was still in Joe's arms but they were not outside and they were not in the main room of the shell house. She was laying down on a small, twin mattress with her head resting on Joe's chest. His arms were holding her securely to him. He clung to her like she might slip away at any moment.

She recognized this room from when she'd been in it in passing. It was Joe's room, the one that he shared with Roger Davis, though Roger wasn't in it at present. Light shone through the closed blinds, but it was a soft pink of morning instead of the golden yellow of the afternoon.

As she looked around, she felt Joe stir against her. His eyes fluttered open, took in the fact that she was awake and that she was watching him. He seemed more relaxed now, though she made a mental note of the fact that he seemed unable to stop himself from touching her in some way.

"Hey there," his voice rumbled from deep in his chest, still rough with sleep. His eyes were soft and his thumb was rubbing small circles in the small of her back.

Sadie offered him a weak smile, "Hey."

His forehead was wrinkled with worry. "You gave me quite a scare," he confessed to her.

Sadie nodded, dropping her gaze from his. She brought her hand that was between them up to the center of his chest, drawing small shapes as she composed her thoughts.

Joe was quiet, content to lay with Sadie in his arms. She cleared her throat, "What happened?"

At her question, Joe began to sit up slightly and cradled her face in his hands as he studied her eyes and face. "You don't remember falling in the lake yesterday?"

Sadie reached up to hold one of his wrists in her hand, "I remember that part. I don't remember much else after slipping into the water."

"Lily came into the shell house, completely panicking," Joe started. "She said that you'd slipped into the water and hadn't come back out."

Joe stared at the wall as he recalled it to her. His eyes full of anguish and his grip on her tightened with the need to convince himself that she was beside him.

"We followed her out to where you'd fallen in and I jumped in to grab you out but you were stuck on something. Thankfully, Don noticed and jumped in after me. He had a pocket knife that he used to cut you free."

Sadie nodded, it all checked out to her. She could remember the vibrating sensation dancing up her foot while she was in the water.

"You couldn't have been in there for very long, but by the time we pulled you out, your lips were blue. You weren't breathing," Joe paused, breathing deeply. His eyes fell shut and he leaned his forehead against hers.

They rested like that for a short time while Joe tried to calm himself down, clutching to her like she was a lifeline. After a bit, Sadie pulled back and Joe opened his eyes to look at her. They were both sitting upright now but she rose up on her knees, hearing the mattress groan as she did.

She grabbed onto Joe's shoulders to steady herself and swung one of her legs across Joe's hips so that she was straddling him. His hands came up to rest on her hips, stabilizing her as she sat down on his thighs.

Sadie slid her hands from his shoulders and into his hair, caressing his blonde curls and massaging his scalp until his shoulders released the tension he was holding there.

Joe cleared his throat and looked at her, "You weren't breathing so we did CPR until you were. I carried you back to the shell house, Bobby had run to grab a Doctor while I went in after you so they checked you out."

"What did they say?" She asked, moving her thumbs up to smooth his temples. Joe leaning into her touch as she did.

"You were awake for that part," he hummed, "But, you feel back asleep pretty quickly after. Doc said you were fine and that you'd need to take it easy for the next couple of days. You were pretty out of it though, so I took you in here and we both fell asleep."

She shivered and Joe brought the quilt that was covering them both to wrap more tightly around her shoulders, while pulling her closer to him. "Thank you," she whispered.

He shook his head, "Please, don't ever do that again. I don't think I can handle it."

She laughed blankly, "I wasn't really trying to do it the first time either."

Joe nodded, "I know." He cupped her cheeks and brought her in for a slow, warm kiss that had her melting into his touch. It was a kiss that told her just how worried he had been and how glad he was to have her near him now.

Sadie responded in kind, gliding her hands across his skin and pouring all of her love for him into their kiss. Joe's hands flexed against her hips and turning his head, he deepened their kiss. His tongue parted her lips and he kissed her until all Sadie could taste, feel and hear was Joe Rantz.

A/N: Y'all I fell in love with this idea and was having such a fun time writing it up until the end. It sort of died there lol. Thanks for sticking it out til then and I'll do my best to keep writing for the boys.

[h3ffleyswife]

"i cant hold my alcohol" (r. heffley x reader)

desc: fem! reader who's ben's little sister. drunken mishaps, you sleep in rodricks bed, just read it

warnings: slightly ooc rodrick ngl, i wrote this when i was tired lolz sry

word count: 2480

You buckle your seat belt and throw your purse on the floor of your brothers car. "We're going over to Rodricks, his parents are out of town so he's throwing a party, sound good?" Ben, your brother, says while reversing out of your guys' driveway. You furrow your eyebrows, "Rodrick? The hot one in your band?" You questioned, picking at the chipped nail polish on your fingernails. Ben looked over at you and scoffed, "I mean, whatever floats your boat. But no way would I ever let you two date. You guys would make my life a living hell." You roll your eyes and sigh, "Whatever, leave me to my fantasies, Ben."

Your brother's face contorts into one of disgust and he pulls in front of a house that you can only assume is the Heffley's. "Please, spare me with the details of your Rodrick fantasies." Ben says, putting the car in park and taking his keys. You giggle to yourself and hop out of his shitty, beat up car. You can see lots of kids already here, most of them already wasted out of their minds. Ben walks in front of you towards the front door, and your heart flutters with nerves.

Stepping through the door, the first thing that hits your nose is alcohol, and it almost makes you nauseous. Ben's already gone off somewhere, so you walk around until you can find the drinks. Peeking your head into the kitchen, there's a couple borderline fucking on Rodricks kitchen counter. You scrunch your eyebrows and turn around, there didn't seem to be any drinks in there anyways.

It takes you about five minutes and squeezing your way through a bunch of intoxicated, smelly teens, but you finally find the drinks. Gwen Stefani is blasting in your ear while you pour yourself a coke mixed with a little bit of whatever shitty alcohol Rodrick managed to get his hands on. You take a sip, there's not too much alcohol in the drink, which is good. You don't plan on getting drunk tonight.

Rodrick is standing in a corner of his living room, chatting it up with his band members when Ben walks up to him. Rodrick greets him with a high five and a large grin on his face, "What's up dude? What took you so long?!" Chris asks Ben, also giving the boy a high five. "Sorry guys, my sister took hella long to get ready, but we made it!" Ben said and took a sip of his drink, he's lucky you already agreed to being designated driver, because there was enough alcohol in his cup to kill a victorian child. Rodricks ears perked up at the mention of you, "Your sister's here?" Rodrick questioned Ben, who looked at him with a raised brow. "Yeah.. she's somewhere around here, why? Is that okay? She's in our grade, it's not like I brought my 7 year old sister or anything." Ben rambles, Rodrick's now scanning the room for your familiar face.

It's been a running "joke" between the band that Rodrick has a thing for you, Ben's sister, for a while now. Any time you showed up with Ben to practice because of convenience, Rodricks playing would be off, and he'd be distracted the whole practice. There was just something about you, Rodrick thought to himself. "Hey man, stop daydreaming about Ben's sister!" Chris waves his hand in front of Rodricks face and laughs, making Rodrick blink a couple times before laughing nervously and looking at Ben. Ben rolls his eyes before making eye contact with Rodrick, "I wouldn't actually be upset if you tried to date my sister, but I swear on my mother, Rodrick, that I will put you six feet under if you screw her over." Ben places his hand on Rodricks shoulder and tightens his grip, making Rodrick gulp nervously before nodding quickly, "Of course dude, I wouldn't do anything to purposely hurt her!" He swats Ben's hand away, "I have business to attend to, gentlemen." Rodrick shouts, walking- maybe skipping- away to go find you. Ben sighs and takes another swig of his drink while Chris laughs to himself, turning to go try and talk to a girl.

You're leaning against a wall, starting to get mildly bored, when someone taps your shoulder. Turning around, you see Rodrick. Your face immediately gets hot and you give him a small smile, "Hey!" Rodrick says with a smile, giving you a quick once-over. You pretend not to see him looking you up and down, feeling an unfamiliar feeling in your stomach. "Hey Rodrick, how's it going?" You ask, your voice shaky and hands clammy enough to open a seafood restaurant. You cleared your throat awkwardly, normally, you were able to hold a conversation with him, why was it so different now? Rodrick gives you a nervous smile and stutters out a reply, "Well, throwing a party is way harder than it seems, y'know. How've you been? I don't really see you around school much." He smiles at you and you feel like you've just levitated off of the ground, "Haha, yeah I bet. I'm not doing too bad, just kind of doing my own thing, you know? I haven't been doing a lot recently, but I did just pick up a new guitar the other day, learning it's been kind of a pain in the ass though." You find yourself starting to ramble. Rodrick just looks at you and melts into your voice, nodding at certain parts. "You should teach me how to play once you've got it down. I could teach you how to play the drums, not to flex or anything, but I'd say I'm pretty good" Rodrick says and crosses his arms, smirking to himself. You laugh and shake your head, "If you sound anything like you did a couple months ago, I think I'll pass on those lessons, Rodrick" You giggle, watching his face fall.

"Hey! I've improved, thank you! And I wasn't even that bad..." Rodrick looks away with a pink face, and you find yourself smiling at the boy. "Sorry, sorry. I'll have to take you up on those drum lessons, then." Rodrick looks at you and laughs, "You want another drink?" You look at your empty cup and shrug, "Sure, why not."

Rodrick leads you into the dining room where he had drinks laid out on the table, "Let me make you something, are you driving later?" He asks you, and you pause, "I could find a ride home". He raises his eyebrow, "You could always just crash over here if that's okay with you?" Your stomach twists in excitement and you nod, "That's fine by me, why are you trying to get me drunk, Heffley? Don't try anything funny" You say and take the drink he's made you out of his hands, throwing him a smirk afterwards. Rodrick's eyes go wide and he stutters and trips over his own words, "W-wait!! I'm not trying- that's not-" You cut him off by laughing loudly, shaking your head. "I'm just giving you a hard time, if I didn't want to drink, I wouldn't have agreed to you making me drink." Rodrick lets out a loud sigh and playfully glares at you, "Gave me a heart attack" He grumbles and you giggle again, taking another sip of your drink. It was pretty strong, and you realized you should tell your brother to figure out a ride home because you were no longer going to drive him home. You take another sip, "Hey, do you know where my brother is by any chance? I need to tell him i'm not gonna drive him home, maybe Chris can?" Your words start to slur together and Rodrick nods, "I'll go find him and tell him, stay right here, 'kay?" You nod and pour yourself another drink.

Rodrick shuffles through his now, very full, house and looks for Ben. He finally catches sight of the boy, but he's on his way out of the house. "Ben! Hold on-" Rodrick catches him walking out the door, Ben looks back and tilts his head to the side, "What's up dude?"

"Hey, do you have a ride home tonight?" "I was about to leave and drive mysel- oh shit I forgot about my sister, have you seen her?" Rodrick swallows nervously, "Yeah, we've been hanging out all night. Is she cool to stay here tonight? No funny business, I promise! She's just starting to get kind of drunk, and I need to stay home to like... supervise this party, you know?" Ben sighed and nodded, "Yeah, that's cool. Let me know if I need to come get her at any point. Don't do anything stupid, Rodrick. See you at practice tomorrow." Ben says, shutting the door after he does. Rodrick hopes he's not overly upset with him.

Making his way back to the dining room, Rodrick sees you beeline to the bathroom in front of him suddenly. He looks around confused for a moment before quickly following you to the bathroom, making sure you're okay. You slam the door behind you and Rodrick can hear the sound of you throwing up on the other side of the door. He winces and knocks on the door gently, "Hey, it's Rodrick, can I come in?"

There's a pause of silence. Rodrick can hear you cough, and then throw up again. After a minute or so passes, your voice can be heard weakly behind the door, "...come in". Rodrick opens the door, shoves himself in the bathroom and then quickly shuts it behind him again. You look up at him with tears in your eyes from throwing up, and the sudden motion of looking up makes you nauseous again, immediately throwing your head back towards the toilet bowl. Rodrick quickly kneels down next to you and holds your hair behind your head, and rubs your back.

After you're done throwing up, you look back at Rodrick, wiping your mouth with your sleeve. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to throw up like that. I can't hold my alcohol very well, I guess" You say, thoroughly embarrassed and wanting anything but to be here right now. Rodrick shushed you and tucked your hair behind your ear, "Here, I have a shirt you can change into, do you want pajama pants too? I'll get you water and you can lay down in my bed." He offers, holding you and slowly standing you up. You shake your head, "You don't have to do tha-" "I want to do that, do you need me to walk you upstairs? Or do you got it while I grab you some water?" He asks gently while walking you out the door. Your face turns pink and you sigh, knowing you couldn't avoid it now. "I got it, which room is yours?" "All the way down the hall and to the left, you'll know which one when you open it." He says, smiling and walking away to grab you a glass of water once he sees that you're walking up the stairs. Once you're up the stairs, you go to the room Rodrick told you to. Surprisingly, his room isn't terrible. Could it use some tidying up? Yeah, but for a teenage boy, it was fairly well kept. You sit down on his bed and wait for him, slipping your shoes off.

Rodrick opens the door, and cracks a small smile once he sees you sitting in his bed. You look up and give him a small smile back, grabbing the glass of water he offers you. He walks over and opens his wardrobe, grabbing you a black graphic tee and some pajama bottoms. When he hands you the clothes, you notice that he gave you one of his Loded Diper tee's, and you smile to yourself while your heart flutters. "I think I have these same pajama pants" You state, the pants looking very familiar. Rodrick laughs, "We should totally match, wouldn't that be cute?" He says, with a joking tone, but he meant it.

You looked up and giggled, "Turn around for a minute while I change" Rodrick's face goes red, and he nods before turning around. You take your shirt off and put on the Loded Diper shirt. It smells like cheap cologne and... Rodrick. You can't describe how he smells, but it makes your heart jump in your chest. You slide your pants off and put on the pajamas, looking up at Rodrick, who's still staring into the wall, focusing on anything but the fact that there's a hot girl changing in his room. "You can turn back around, Rodrick"

He turns around and his stomach flutters at the sight of you in his clothes. "Drink some water and lay down, you can go to bed if you want to. I'll sleep on the floor tonight." Rodrick says, taking a pillow off his bed and tossing it lightly on the floor. "I can sleep on the floor, Rodrick, I don't mind" "No, I'm not making a pretty girl sleep on the floor, do you think I'm crazy?" He says, almost offended at the thought of letting you sleep on his floor. You blush, and look away awkwardly with a quiet laugh. He smiles at you, and walks towards his door. "I'm gonna go tell people to go home, I'll be back up in a minute" You nod and he leaves the room.

Laying back in his bed, the situation you're in starts to sink in.

You're in Rodrick Heffley's bed. And you're wearing his clothes. What the fuck? Your heart pounds and you turn onto your side, closing your eyes and cuddling into his pillow. It wont hurt to close your eyes for a minute until Rodrick gets back.

Rodrick goes around downstairs, telling people that they should start to head home because it's getting late. People leave, and Rodrick has to kick a couple people awake off of his living room floor. He looks around at the mess that he'd have to deal with tomorrow and sighs. He'd probably just get Greg to help him with it.

Rodrick walks up the stairs and gently opens his bedroom door. He walks in, shutting the door behind him and then looks over to you, and his heart soars. He swears he can feel his heart pouring out of his chest, how was it possible for a girl to look so beautiful? He walks over to your sleeping figure and tucks your hair behind your ear, "You're so pretty.." He says quietly, and kisses the side of your head.

Rodrick makes himself a makeshift bed on his floor, staring at the small portion of your sleeping figure that he can see. "Goodnight" He says to you with a smile, turning over, thinking about you.

What an eventful night.

hey!!! first fic in a while, let me know if you'd want a part two, thx!!

[draco-dormiens]

THE STRANGEST OF PLACES - Chapter Twenty Two

draco x fem!ravenclaw reader / postwar au series

warnings: strong language, angst, alcohol use (characters are 18+)

wc: 3375

masterlist

taglist is now closed - i’ve officially run out of tags! thank you all

One Hell of a Dinner Party

"So, Draco, your mother tells us you've taken a fancy to Ministry work," Mr Greengrass asks the young Malfoy heir from across the long dark wood table, between them a feast for at least a hundred people laid out by house elves scuttering to and fro, "fine place, the Ministry. Well, under the correct management, that is."

The man laughs, as Lucius joins purely out of politeness. Draco, too, manages a small laugh, as he pushes the food around his plate.

"Well, I've been thinking about that, yes," he answers, Astoria gazing at him from across the way, Daphne on her umpteenth glass of wine, "but I also like medicine, sir, so maybe a job at St. Mungo's."

"St. Mungo's, you say?" the older gentlemen looks over at this wife, Mrs Greengrass, who cuts her food into pea size pieces, and gives her an rather unreadable look, "very noble of you son, to want to help others, but what about the pay, and the hours? Not a very suitable job for a family man, wouldn't you agree, Lucius?"

"Ah, well, we have always told Draco he may choose whatever profession he would like," Lucius goes on to explain, dabbing the corners of his mouth with his napkin, "I'm sure, once he has climbed up the ranks, he will have more flexibility with the job."

Mr Greengrass scoffs amusingly.

"And how long would that take, Lucius? Narcissa, surely you would prefer Draco to choose a much more stable profession? There are plenty of places in accounting at the Ministry, I can always put a good word in for your boy." said Mr Greengrass.

Draco clenches his fist under the table. If it wasn't for his mother breathing down his neck, he would've given old Greengrass a piece of his mind. Astoria, like a deer in the headlights, looks between the adults with a nervous disposition.

"The offer is very much appreciated, isn't it, dear?" Narcissa then speaks up, looking over at Draco with a desperate sort of look in her eyes. Draco, already fed up and even more so now Mr Greengrass had voiced his opinion, takes a deep breath and forces a smile onto his face.

"Tell me, Mr Greengrass," Draco said in the most sarcastic tone he could muster, Daphne shaking her head at him in the corner of his eye in an attempt to stop whatever he was thinking about saying, "you've been at the Ministry for some time now. How do you find sleeping at night?"

"Right, how about some dessert?" Narcissa says very loudly, chair legs scraping along the dining room floor as she begins gathering plates and passing them to the tiny house elf, "I made the most delicious looking pavlova. Mrs Greengrass, care for some? Tea or coffee, anyone?"

Her voice seemed to be getting higher in pitch as she spoke, the tension now thick and rather unpleasant. Within a few minutes, the table was cleared and in floated several mouth-watering desserts. Along with Narcissa's pavlova, there was freshly baked strawberry cheesecake, double chocolate fudge cake and boats of pouring cream and custard. As the dessert settled on the tables service, talk of school began, and Draco's mind started to drift far away from the conversation around him.

"We are so proud of Astoria," Mrs Greengrass boasts, helping herself to the thinnest slice of cheesecake the world has ever seen, "we have full faith she will come out with top marks. Such a clever and interesting young woman."

Daphne snorts quietly as she indulges in chocolate cake, Draco meeting her eyes with a small smirk tugging at his lips. Astoria gives her sister a stern look. Their mother then changes the subject to Draco's school days, much to his dismay.

"Astoria tells us that you're rather sporty, Draco," Mrs Greengrass then asks, picking at her cheesecake, "she says you've taken up Quidditch this year?"

"He's always played Quidditch, Ma," Daphne rolls her eyes, "can't you remember?"

"The best seeker Slytherin has seen in years," Astoria speaks loudly over her sister, "Madam Hooch even says so. Thanks to him Slytherin have done extremely well this year."

"Isn't that wonderful, dear?" Mrs Greengrass says to Mr Greengrass, who hums in agreement as his mouth is full of pavlova, "and have you always liked playing Quidditch, dear?"

Draco clears his throat.

"I had a break in sixth year," he explains, all eyes now on him, "but I recently got back into it," he pauses for a moment, glancing at the six people around the table, "a good friend of mine helped me regain my passion for it."

Astoria choked a little on her dessert, before gulping down a glass of water.

"It's always nice to have good friends around you," Mrs Greengrass smiles, "does your friend also play Quidditch? Is he into sport?"

"She doesn't play, no," Draco smiles, the thought of you making his evening feel a little lighter. Daphne excuses herself to use the restroom, sensing the rise in tension as her mother's eyes widen to the size of the dessert plates.

"She?" Mrs Greengrass repeats in a sort of strained voice.

"Draco, why don't you tell Mr and Mrs Greengrass about your potions classes this year? You've thoroughly enjoyed them, haven't you?" Narcissa nudges Draco's leg under the table harshly, glaring at him over her cheesecake and cream.

"Do you have many friends, Draco?" Mrs Greengrass asks, shrugging off Narcissa, her face souring even though she was trying her best to keep a smile on her face. Mr Greengrass, oblivious to the current topic, was talking Lucius' ear off about his recent investment at the Ministry.

Draco grits his teeth, remembers what he's enduring this for, and lays down his fork.

"No, ma'am," he digs his nails into his knee to ease some of the frustration, Astoria staring at him with such intensity he almost feels his skin burning, "I'm afraid I don't mix all that well."

"He's being modest," Astoria laughs awkwardly, "Draco has many friends. Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini; you remember them, Mummy?"

She hums, and takes a miniscule bite of cheesecake.

Once dessert was over, the plates were cleared and in came the pots of tea and coffee, floating on silver trays with small, sugared biscuits on each coaster. A teacup was given to each of them, followed by their choice with cream or milk. Small talk passed the time, as Draco contemplated his entire existence in his cup of tea. In his pocket sits the little velvet box, a rock nestled in a silver band inside, waiting to be placed on Astoria's long, pale finger. He catches her line of vision when he looks up, and she smiles over her cup. He smiles back, and the guilt of his unrequited feelings starts to make him feel nauseous.

As soon as tea and coffee was finished, Narcissa leads the guests back to the drawing room, where fresh bottles of wine and glasses had been placed on a golden tray in the centre of the coffee table. The fire was smoldering, as even in the summer, the large rooms of Malfoy Manor rarely heat up enough. Conversation starts once more, and the time for Draco's proposal creeps ever closer. He could feel his parents eyes on him every second, any time he refilled Astoria's glass with sparkling grape presse and her fingers brushed his, even when he shuffled slightly in his seat. The anticipation was clearly killing them. Even Mrs Greengrass jolted when he moved. It seemed everyone was eager, except for him. Daphne became topic of conversation for a while, Narcissa asking her twenty questions from her job search to her love life.

"I just love wizarding fashion, Mrs Malfoy," Daphne explains, playing with the ends of her golden, silky hair. Daphne was always beautiful, but Blaise had long made his interests known for the eldest Greengrass daughter, "Madam Malkin has been so kind as to let me help her around the shop, only to get some experience. I want to be a steam stress eventually, and design my own tasteful gowns for young witches."

"And what about Pansy?" Draco hears his mother ask, and his heart drops to his feet upon remembering what Pansy had witnessed, "do you still see one another? I have invited the family over to the manor a few times. Lovely girl, isn't she, Draco?"

"Uh, yeah," Draco nods, trying to sound genuine, "she was always... around, right, Daph?"

Daphne stifles a laugh.

"Indeed she was," Daphne agrees, and then smirks devilishly, "I think the reason for that was her... what shall we call it... interest, in you, Dray."

"Interest. Sure." Draco sips on his wine as Daphne turns her head to chuckle. It would seem Pansy knew better than to blab about her findings that night; she may be a lot of things, Pansy Parkinson, but being disloyal to Draco didn't seem to be one of them. She knew, just as well as he did, that Draco knew her all too well. There were a fair few things he was sure her parents would be interested to find out about their precious Pansy.

"Would anyone care for a drink in the garden?" Narcissa then asks, giving Draco a knowing look, "Draco, why don't you take Astoria to see my flower beds and wait for us to join you?"

This was the moment he'd been dreading. In his mother's letter, she strictly said to be prepared for when she offers the Greengrasses a drink in the garden. That was the perfect time, she said, to get down on one knee. As Astoria's parents walk out into the courtyard, surrounded by Narcissa's immaculate flower beds, Draco would be asking for their daughter's hand in marriage. How romantic, his mother had written, under the summer moon. It will be spectacular.

How scripted, more like, is what Draco thought.

A sudden cold sweat dripped down Draco's back. He grips the little box in his pocket, and for a long moment, doesn't respond to what his mother was asking of him. He didn't realise how long he'd been standing there, slack-jawed, until Narcissa cleared her throat loudly and gave him a look only a mother could.

"Oh, uh, yes, I can do that," he then rushes out, and holds out a clammy hand for Astoria to take, "please, let me lead the way."

She takes his hand without haste. Draco, silently, takes the girl out of the drawing room and through the house, all the while gripping the box in his pocket. Astoria, not sure what to make of Draco's strange behaviour, remains just as quiet, her heels clicking along the tiled floors and echoing in the stale air. As they neared the glass doors leading to the courtyard, they pass the staircase leading up to the room which Draco took you to. The one with the big window that seems to look out at the entire universe. He stops, dead in his tracks, and stares at the doorway.

"I was just thinking how big the world is, you know?" you had said, and he remembers looking across at you and thinking how nice you looked. How pretty you were, and how ignorant he was for never noticing that, "like, all those little specs in the sky are something, and we're just here. Looking up at them. A small piece in a big puzzle."

He recalls thinking that your mind must be a rather interesting place, to come out with something as deep as that. But then you asked him, perhaps the most complicated question he'd ever heard, and if he thinks about it, if you were to ask him now, his answer would be completely different.

"Have you ever loved anyone?"

He remembers, his answer was no. And he was quite confident in that answer, but now...

Now he had tasted what it felt like to crave someone, to want their presence even in the most mundane moments. When he's alone in bed at night. When he's reading in silence. When he's needing a comforting word or someone to lean on.

"Draco?" Astoria's voice sounds distant, "are you alright?"

A tidal wave of memories came rushing back to him. Christmas. Watching the stars, playing chess in the Astronomy tower. Burning potions. Arguing. The moment you threw that silly little drawing into the fire. All those nights you spent listening to him ramble on about constellations. The taste of your lips and the feeling of your hand in his. How, no matter how much he tries, he simply cannot be without you. A piece of him was forever missing.

"Draco," Astoria shakes him a little, worry plastered all over her face when he finally snaps out of it and faces her, "what's wrong? You went rigid and pale. Are you feeling well?"

"I, uh..." he begins, but the words get stuck, and suddenly the long corridor is suffocating, the air is thin and his suit is uncomfortable, "need some air."

He rushes off without her, loosening his tie and running a hand through his neat hair. Astoria hurries after him, calling for him to slow down, to tell her what was wrong. As he approaches the courtyard doors, he pushes them open with so much force that the glass rattles in the panes. The cooler night air hits him like a bludger to the head, and for the first time in an extremely long time, one thing was so strong and clear in his mind that everything else was getting lost within it, and his strength was returning to his spent and beaten soul.

"I can't do this," he says, as Astoria comes to a halt behind him, panting slightly, "I... can't do this. I see it now. All this time I've... What the fuck am I doing?"

Astoria doesn't say anything, instead, she merely comes to stand beside him. For a long moment, they just stand in silence.

"Draco," Astoria then breaks it, and Draco's watery eyes meet hers, "we both know what is expected of us tonight. Right now, as we stand here, they are waiting for the right time to witness our engagement. Even Daphne sussed it."

"Astoria," Draco's quiet voice says, "I can't-"

"Do you believe in soul mates, Draco?" Astoria continues, but Draco can't seem to find an answer. The pretty brunette continues anyway, "because I do. I believe it's not our hearts that yearn for another, but our souls. I like to think, that somewhere out there, a soul wanders this earth looking for its other half... it's soul mate."

She then turns to face him fully, a gust of wind ruffling her long brown locks. A smile graces her features, and she gently places her hand on his face.

"I want you to know, whatever you chose to do tonight, I understand," she whispers to him, "because the other half of my soul is still out there... but you, Draco, you have found yours."

"What are you saying, 'Storia?" Draco mutters, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, "you've always been so adamant that this is what needs to happen. Why the sudden change of heart?"

She shrugs.

"It's true, that I'd be happy to marry you, Draco," she admits freely, "but seeing you tonight, how stressed you've been, how unsettled throughout dinner. Why should someone make you feel that way? No matter what way you look at it, you are unhappy. We would marry, and you would still be unhappy. You'd learn to live with it, because that's the kind of man you are. Monogamous and faithful," she retracts her hand and looks out over the garden, "when you stopped back there, you were thinking of her, weren't you?"

"I feel so terrible," he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut, "why is this happening?"

"I want you to understand that I will never think ill of you, Draco," Astoria reassures him, "I don't think I ever could. If you walk away now, then I will not stop you. If you chose to stay and marry me, then I can only ask that you learn to live with your decision, and we make the best out of this situation. You have a choice. I never should have made you think otherwise. It was wrong of me."

A choice. Draco has never been presented with one of those before. He takes a deep, shaky breath and then remembers Grangers words. He remembers the dinner at Weasleys, the chance that Granger had taken the liberty to offer him, and as if a fire was lit from under him, courage and warmth spread throughout his entire body.

"Astoria," he says firm and serious, turning his entire body to face her fully, and takes her hands in his, "I want you to know that I have always and will always wish you happiness. You will make someone very happy one day, I'm absolutely certain of it, but mostly," he presses a quick kiss to her hand, "I thank you, for giving me something no one ever has before."

"What's that?" she asks, tilting her head slightly.

"A choice," he whispers, and she smiles a teary smile.

"Go to your soul mate, Draco," she tells him, "and don't look back, you understand?"

He pulls her into his embrace, squeezes her as if his life depends on it, and backs away before breaking into a sprint across the garden. If he was to make it, he at least had to apparate to Weasleys before the night was over. But first, he had to get as far away from the manor as he could. Behind him, he could hear the commotion, and Mr Greengrasses furious voice bellowing.

"What do you mean he's gone?" the man shouts, Astoria's calmer voice trying to explain the situation best she could. Draco hid behind a large oak tree, far enough away to apparate safely. As he catches his breath, he hears Mrs Greengrass uncontrollably sobbing and wailing into the night like a hurt animal.

"Stood up! Our precious Astoria! You should be ashamed Narcissa, ashamed I tell you!"

"It's not like that!" Astoria's voice yelled, causing the ruckus to seize, "this is a mutual decision, mother."

"Our son would never do this without reason, Mrs Greengrass, please be assured," Narcissa tries to quell the situation, "there has to be a perfectly good explanation."

"He's in love with someone else," Daphne puts simply, and gasps from all around are heard throughout the night, "he has to be. Silly boy thinks he's hiding it well. Couldn't be more obvious if he said it out right."

"With who, exactly?" Narcissa asks frantically, "not once has he mentioned..." she trails off, remembering a slice of conversation between them, a small detail she should have paid much more mind to, when he asked "Would you and father resent me?"

"Narcissa!" Mr Greengrass says abruptly, "explain this mess or so help me-"

"If you speak to my wife in that tone again, Mr Greengrass, I think you may need to leave." Lucius says coolly, coming to stand before the man, who was much smaller in comparison.

"No need to worry, Lucius, as we are very much leaving," Mr Greengrass flares his nostrils, "girls, get your coats. Never again are we stepping foot in this house."

Mrs Greengrass, still sobbing and wailing, follows her husband back through the house. Daphne politely thanks Narcissa and Lucius with a sympathetic smile. As Astoria passes, she thinks twice about saying something, and then double backs on herself.

"Mr and Mrs Malfoy," she calls back, and they both turn to face her, "Draco may not want me to intervene, but I must say this," She pauses, looking back as her father calls for her, "he has tried, for many months now, to gather the courage to marry how you wish. He has battled with his true feelings and the fear of disappointing you. Even I, and I realise now I had no place, tried to convince him that he must follow this path, and not the one he chooses for himself," another furious call from Mr Greengrass and Astoria begins backing away towards the glass doors, "please, if there's one thing I can ask of you, it's that you hear him out. Please."

"ASTORIA, IF YOU DON'T GET HERE RIGHT NOW-"

"Please, listen to him," are her final words as shes rushing back through the doors and out of sight, leaving Narcissa and Lucius in a state of utter confusion.

And just over the way, behind the large oak tree, Draco successfully apparates to the Weasley's home.

disclaimer: i do not own hp or any of the characters in this story

tags:

@lovesanimals0000 @cappgyuccino @lightning1ce @onlygetaway @honeyyypeach @namelesslosers @ghostyv @mikadorbs @redactedhimbo @morganadpl @scarecrowscaresthomas @camille-1019 @valkyrie418 @animeloverfreak310 @budugu @marplest @torresbarnes @bunny24sstuff @champagneesupernova @serafilms @siriusly-parker-main @lovely-maryj @i-bitch-you-bitch @astablacksword @sun-fiower-seed @tinafuentes @venusjustleft @omgitstatertot @aangsupremacy @ilovezy @leclerc16s @aslanvez @talesofadragon @3vasaur @the-skys-musical-echo @yeolsbubbles @idk-dolans @xx-kiraa-xx @sunbruized @vinkiesz @snickersmee @fandomrulesall-blog @astheraa @idkatee @marsanhwa @vintageoldfashion @63sucker @j-n-i-c-o-l-e @anarchistsons @smallsweetvanillabean @newbooksmell777 @tangomangroves @neoteezrenyoung @l0v3lies @delusionally-loveless-by-choice @higanbanagirl @ace152435 @arcanebabe @slythermuf @hea-vin @zucchinimalfoy @carolineesnell

[tainted-red]

Careful.

Part one.

TWS: Smut, Language, Dub con, Threesum.

Summary: Y/n and her best friends have to share a room for a school trip.

Gosh you loved your friends.

If some guy wouldn't take a hint, Your friends would beat his ass. If you felt sad, Your friends would comfort you. If you were bored, your friends would entertain you.

They cared about you more than your parents.

Sure you were the girl of the group. But it didn't matter to them. They would still fight you, your losing was inedible. They talked to you about girl shit, and you gave them good advice.

You were currently on a boat and you and the whole school would taking the a boat to Mexico for a special school trip. Something about the school grade having all student get up to 90%.

You get to share a room with your best friend's.

Rafe Cameron your best friend since middle school. He bought you a slice of pizza since you had no lunch, and ever since then you became besties.

He was the relaxed one, didn't care about any girl besides you. If you need someone to watch a movie with, he's your guy.

Kelce Leroy, you met him in your homeroom in grade 9, he worked with you on a project with Rafe, and you all became a group since then.

He was the more fun one, always on your hip about letting loose. Being cool.

Topper Thorton, you met him at summer camp in grade six. You became close because he picked up all your period products in grade 6.

A bunch of boys thought it would be funny to go through your bag, they through around your pads and embarrassed you. Making you cry. Topper picked up all your stuff and comforted you.

He was the more caring one. Always saying you can talk to him if you need to. He was basically the mom of the group or dad.

It was perfect cause you were the more rebellious one. Always trying to start something.

Kelce cheering you on, Rafe laughing on the side, and topper trying to stop it.

You are a kook. They liked that, more like Rafe did.

You were currently sitting with Rafe and Kelce as Toppee fetched you some drinks.

“I think I'm gonna ask Jj out” You decide “No, he's a pogue Y/n” Rafe rolled his eyes.

“So what. I'm tired of these stupid restrictions you make. He's nice and hot” You giggle.

“He's dirty as well as his Pogue friends. But Rafe didn't you kiss Kiara in like 9th grade?” Kelce reminds us.

“Oh yeah, I remember. Everyone thought you were weird cause she was two years younger” You laugh with Kelce.

“You dared me to” Rafe remarks.

“Cause she was in love with you, Sarah told me” You shrug.

Topper finally returns to us “here I got diet coke y/n, Sprite for Kelce and Water for Rafe” Topper said handing his stuff when he said our names.

We all thanked Topper.

“They said we will be in Mexico in like an hour from now, Mrs trench said were all sharing a room In the hotel” you told them.

“Two beds” you added.

“I ain't sharing a bed with you guys that's gay” Kelce fake gagged.

“Don't be homophobic. I have to share a bed with one of you guys, so I'm the one losing here” you scoff.

“Nose goes” Kelce shouts as he puts his finger on his nose, the other guys doing it as well.

Rafe doing it last “Hah you two have to share a bed” Kelce laughed.

You slapped him lightly on the chest.

“Why don't you guys just do something fair? Or sleep in a different room” You suggest.

“Mr. Kenneth said if he says anyone sneaking around there expelled” Topper buds in.

“How about we race” Rafe proposes to the boys.

“Why don't I have a choice in this? It's my personal space” you argue.

They all turn to me “Fine, Y/n can pick” Rafe grunts.

“Whoever is nicest to me all day can” You establish.

“Easy” Topper chuckles.

Rafe grabs my coke and opens it for you “Would you like me to hold it for you while you drink, your highness” Rafe half-jokes.

“Yes, peasant” you giggle.

He lightly tilts your chin up, slowly pouring the cold liquid into your mouth.

He stops and lets go of me “thank you kind sir” you wink at him.

“Anything for you” Rafe clicks his tongue.

“Would you like me to spit in your mouth? What the fuck was that guys? So sexual” Kelce lets out a deep chuckle.

“Watch it” Rafe warns him.

“Yes daddy” Kelce fake moans.

Causing us to laugh, besides Rafe.

Rafe leans towards my ear “if you don't fucking pick me ill ignore you for a while” Rafe gives notice to you.

He leans back out and smiles at everyone.

This is going to be a long trip.

“Anyways y/n, Kayla wants to talk to you. Something about her dead dog” Topper just now tells you.

You get up and smile at the boys “I'll be back. Next time tell me sooner” I look topper in the eyes “Yeah sorry” he apologises.

You pat him on the back as you walk away.

Hours have past now.

You and the guys were finally in the bedroom “So who is it y/n?” Topper asks, sitting on the bed beside you.

“Um I chose Rafe” You huff.

“Seriously, I gave you a foot massage y/n” Kelce shouts “Yeah and I carried you all day” Topper reminds me.

Standing up, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Sorry but Rafe did buy me that necklace” You shrug.

“Whatever. Mine as well suck his dick y/n” Kelce mutters.

“Fuck off. You have to share a bed with topper loser” you shout while fake laughing.

“That's it. I'm sleeping on the floor” Kelce sniffs.

“What's so bad about me” Topper asks.

“Nothing he just doesn't wanna” you shrug.

Rafe gets on the left side of the bed, laying down.

Kelce grabs a blanket and pillow and the remote.

Turning on sponge bob SquarePants.

You lay down beside Rafe facing him.

“Thank you y/n” He smiles at you, cupping your face “Thank you for the necklace. It's beautiful” You smile back.

He slowly leans in, lightly kissing your check.

Then kissing all over your head.

He started to playfully fight with you.

He pins you down and starts to tickle you, laughter screaming out of your mouth.

“Rafe- Stop- I can't breath” you wheeze.

He stops tickling you.

You catch your breath and somehow end up on top of him.

Attempting to tickle him “you forgot I'm not ticklish” Rafe licks his upper lip.

Placing his hands on your hips.

Slowly making you grind on him.

“Stop Rafe- we can get caught” You whisper.

“Let them watch” Rafe smirks.

Making you go faster.

Catching the eye of kelce “Ayo, what are you guys doing?” Kelce shouts while laughing.

Sure I made out with the guys sometimes. But usually nothing like this. I only once got to second base with Kelce. We were both very drunk.

“You guys having sex?” kelce asks, getting up.

Topper now turned over looking at us.

“No guys just having some fun” You laugh.

Rafe groaning beneath you.

“Let me join babe” Kelce jokes.

Suddenly Rafe tugs on your shirt. You take it off, throwing it on the floor.

Rafe smiles at your body. Getting harder under you.

“Oh shit. Real-life porn” Kelce laughs.

“Come here Kelce” You giggle.

Getting off Rafe.

Kelce sits on the bed and you push him down.

Taking off his shirt, crawling on top of him.

“Your so hot” kelce groans.

You kiss his stomach up to his neck, licking up to his ear lobe.

“Can I suck your dick in front of them” I whisper in his ear, lightly biting the lobe of his ear.

“Yes Miss” Kelce smirks.

You go on your knees in front of him.

Sliding his pants down, playing with the bulge in his boxers.

Rafe goes behind you and starts to kiss down your neck. Unclipping your bra.

“Can I fuck you y/n” Rafe asks.

“Yes” You moan as he dry humps you.

Rafe takes off his pants and slips off your shorts.

“Seriously, in front of me guys,” Topper complains.

“Come here then” you moan.

Topper quickly gets off the bed running to your side.

“How can I include you” You moan as Rafe snaps his hips into you.

You pull down kelce boxers. Stroking him slowly.

“Can I just watch? Maybe record” Topper requests.

“Fine” You groan.

You start to take kelce inside your mouth.

Topper gets his phone and starts to record “If you show anyone this ill fucking kill you topper” Rafe grunts.

“Yes I know, it's just for us” He smirks. Slowly jerking himself off.

You bob your head vastly for kelce, and grind on Rafe as he slams into you.

“I'm gonna cum” Kelce groans, gripping the bed sheets.

You felt him twitch in your mouth then liquid hit your throat.

You go slow letting him get off his high.

He gets up watching you swallow all of his cum.

“Gosh, you're so perfect y/n” Rafe hissed as he slams inside your pussy.

You felt your climax build up as he said that.

He starts to rub your clit in circular motion.

“Fuck Rafe- don't stop” You whimper.

You felt your legs go numb as you came all over him.

With a few more bucks he pulls out and cums all over your back.

Letting you catch your breath. Rafe then offers “Come on, we're gonna get you clean”.

He picks you up with the boys behind you.

Rafe runs the bath water and places you in it “Find some soap” Rafe demands.

Topper looks around and finds a little bottle of bubble bath, Rafe adds it to the water. Creating bubbles in the water.

“Thank you” You smile at Rafe “Get washed then we're gonna watch some movies order food and cuddle” Rafe lights up a candle.

Rafe made this all worth it.

[bordysbae]

Heyy lovely can I request a Luke hughes fic with the prompts 4 and 10. Maybe the readers on her period and is crying on the phone to jack or Quinn because luke won’t answer and she’s got bad cramps?

“on my way”

luke hughes x fem reader

4. i’m here baby, don’t worry

10. you make me feel safe

warning: vomiting and nausea

word count: 0.7k

—

its the first week of summer, and of course you’re spending it at the hughes’ lake house. the boys always stay at the lake house for a month during the summer, it’s been their ritual since they first bought the house nearly 10 years ago. you and luke have been dating since first semester of freshman year, and ellen has really grown to like you, which is why she always invites you to go on trips with the hughes family. this is your second time at the lake house, and it already feels like a second home to you.

“morning honey! i’m assuming luke told you that him and the boys are going fishing with jim right?” ellen says as she sips her coffee at the kitchen island. “yeah he did, what are you doing today?” you ask her, as you pour yourself a cup as well. “i’m going out with one of my friends, are you alright being alone for a bit? i should be back at like 1, we’re just going out to lunch. if not you can always join me and my friend, she’s known the boys forever so i’m sure she would be delighted to meet you, she’s heard about you being luke’s girlfriend.” “oh no! i don’t mind being alone at all, honestly i’m not feeling too great. my cramps have been acting up a bit today” you say as you sit next to her. “aw i’m sorry hun, if you need anything don’t be afraid to call me okay! i’m gonna be leaving here in about 20 minutes.” “thanks elle, you’re the best” you smile, her returning the favor.

you’re now alone since ellen left about 15 minutes ago, and the boys are still fishing. your cramps are killing you, and the pain meds are barely working. you’re in pain and you’re hormonal, so the best thing you can do is cry. you always get cramps so bad that you feel the need to vomit, and luke knows this. so you decide to just call him and see when he’s coming home. unfortunately he doesn’t pick up, and this makes you cry even more. you hate vomiting, and the fact you know you might vomit at anytime is freaking you out. you start to panic, and luke still won’t answer his phone.

you decide to call quinn in hopes that he can get ahold of luke, and with your luck, quinn doesn’t answer. you keep feeling more nauseous by the minute and your last resort is calling jack. “hello?” jack says. “hi jack sorry to bother you, could you get luke please?” “yeah, everything okay?” “um, yeah. sort of, not really. can you just get luke?” “yeah yeah of course here” he says, a slight panic in his voice as he hands the phone to luke. “hi babe, are you okay? i’m so sorry i didn’t hear you call, jacks phone was connected to the speaker so i didn’t hear it ring. don’t worry he disconnected it when you called, what’s up?” “luke i think i’m gonna vomit” you say softly. “what? are you okay? what’s wrong?!” he says concerned. “my cramps, they’re killing me. and your mom left like 20 minutes ago, what time are y-you coming home?” you say, holding back your gags. “now! i’m not that far out on the lake i’ll have them drive me back and drop me off, i’m on my way.” “luke no, don’t stop your fun cause i’m sick. i’ll be okay i just wanted to let you know.” you sigh, taking a sip of water. “too late, my dad already started the boat. i’m gonna hang up okay? i’m almost home” “okay. i love you lukey” “i love you more” he says before ending the call.

as you’re leaning over the toilet, holding your hair back with your hand luke slowly creaks the door open. “oh y/n” he says as he quickly walks over to hold your hair back. “i’m sorry luke” “you’re sorry? don’t be sorry for anything. honestly it wasn’t even that fun, i was the only one who couldn’t catch anything and i was tired of getting bullied for it” he chuckles, making you smile at the thought of the comments the boys must’ve made. you begin to start gagging again, and you start to freak out a bit. luke rubs your back gently, “i’m here baby, don’t worry.” he states softly.

once you begin to feel better you both climb into luke’s bed, and you’re cuddled into his chest. “thank you luke, you make me feel safe.” “of course, i’d do anything for you. i love you.” “i love you more lukey.”

[shhtickerbook]

Little Chocolatier

Finally finished my Wonka agere fic!

tw: crying, nightmares, bedwetting, hurt / comfort

-

also posted this on Ao3

Willy Wonka came tumbling down the laundry chute, a pile of sheets piled over him like a stereotypical ghoul. It had been a very long day selling chocolate around the city, his pouch of sovereigns jingled like an instrument as he walked.

Lugging himself out of the laundry cart, Willy smiled weakly up at his friends who were finishing up for the day. Placing down the pocketful of coins on abacus’ table, who picked up his spectacles from his desk.

“Let me get these counted up for you Mr Wonka, I’d say we’re making more and more money each day”

The man spoke as he counted out his coins, Willy nodding. His head was feeling a little odd, like he hadn’t had the best sleep for a while. His days revolved around chocolate and chocolate only, and of course still trying to catch that little orange man. Willys body ached from running from police all day, and for once it was hard to keep his usual chipper and positive energy. His head just felt a little out of gear.

“You okay Willy?”

Piper was hanging up sheets, but had noticed the slight change in the chocolatiers body language. He quickly jumped in reply, putting on his smile and charm.

“Of course! Just a little fatigued. I better head to bed”

He chirpily replied, before making a quick exit to head up to his room. An early night was what probably he needed, to clear the cobwebs from his mind. It was always strange when he felt like this, like a fog overcame his senses. Things just seemed louder, too bright. He just needed some time to rest. The sight of his room wasn’t exactly warming, the metal framed bed teetering on edge, with a yellowing sheet and thin mattress. It wasn’t pretty, but it was the only home he had right now. At least until he made enough money to open his store. Then he could purchase his own house, with enough room for all his friends to move in.

Humming softly as he got changed into his nightclothes, he watched the rain beginning to drop from the sky and glittering against the oil streetlights. This was the only good part of the room, able to see all the way down to the glowing light of the gallery gourmet.

“One day Mamma….”

-

A young Willy wonka awoke in a fright, feeling his centre of gravity tilt for a moment before being thrown from his bed. He had been flung to wooden floorboards, swaying back and forth. It was his canal boat home, but there were no lights, and the once comfortable and cosy furniture was decrepit and molding.

There was a huge roar from outside, howling wind and torrential rain pour. Willy tried to get to his feet, stumbling from the imbalance. What had happened, where was his mother?

“Mamma? Where are you?”

He called out, managing to find the shape of the ladder in the dark. It was incredibly difficult to try and ascend it with the boat rocking back and forth. The boy was immediately hit by a spray of water when he opened the hatch. The canal boat was racing down the water, a terrible storm hitting in every direction.

“Mamma!”

Willy sheltered his face with his elbow, a gust of cold wind causing his favourite scarf unravel and be sucked away. Usually they tied the boat up when bad weather came, he couldn’t even recognise where the boat had been blown to. A sudden flash of light flashed in front of his eyes, disorienting him before a gigantic bang threw him back. Thunder and lightning, it was one of the very few things that frightened him. Usually his mother would hold him close when it thundered, humming a soft tune to drown out the bangs. He wanted nothing more than to find her, where in earth had she gone, why had she left him alone?

His threadbare boots skidded against the wet floorboards, the boat bowing up high in the water. Scrambling he attempted to hold on to anything, but it was no use. In one awful weightless sensation, the boy was thrown from the boat and plunged deep into the choppy freezing water.

-

“Mamma!”

Willy jerked up from bed, clutching at his chest as he began to hyperventilate. His room was filled with darkness, his oil lamp had long burned itself out. But the darkness was quickly replaced with a flash of light from outside, followed by a bang. Flinching violently at the noise, still disoriented from waking up. The dream had felt so real, like he could still feel the cold water he’d been plunged into…

Oh dear.

Frantically he felt around his sheets, sighing out in despair when finding them cold and sopping wet. This was a problem of which that had only happened from time to time, and up until this point it hadn’t occurred whilst he’d been saying at Scrubbits. Willy felt his eyes watering, Mama always helped him when he was young and this happened. It had happened once or twice on the ship, but thankfully there was a very kindly second mate with the same problem who had caught him one evening hunting for sheets.

Sheets… that’s it. He was literally living at Scrubbit and Bleachers, all he had to do was sneak down and wash them, dry and make it back to his room. Although when he stood up and felt the cold breeze through the warped window, all his confidence disappeared and all he wanted to do was curl up and cry. Willy didn’t think he’d ever wanted his mother more in his life, he certainly didn’t want to deal with this.

His head felt fuzzy and strange, vulnerable even. Thankfully a small stuffed creature had been spared from the mess, a floppy knitted bird was strewn against his pillow. Willy picked up the ratty bird, his name was Chester the toucan. Mama had made him when he was a baby, told him stories about where the flocks of birds lived. They even cracked open cocoa beans for food, not the bitter nibs, but the soft sweet flesh surrounding them. Chester was his most loyal companion, so with a deep breath, he tucked the bird under his arm and gathered up the soaked sheets, carefully tiptoeing out of his room.

The creaking floorboards didn’t help his attempt of stealth, but he managed to make his way down the hall and down the stairs. The freezing cold rain and wind felt agonising in just his damp pajamas when he made it outside, the silly man completely forgetting to slip on shoes or any kind of coat on beforehand. The rain was getting torrential, with a deep rumbling in the distance. Willy managing to sprint across the cobblestones to the laundry room just before another bang rang out.

-

Abacus Crunch was a very light sleeper, so when the thunder and lightning began, he resolved to just sit and read for a while until it had passed. He quite enjoyed this kind of weather, he’d read in a book that the sound of thunder created a kind of “white noise” that helped one relax. And his keen hearing picked up on the sound of somebody getting up, but he thought nothing of it. But then he heard the sound of a door loudly open outside, and couldn’t help but stand up to investigate. His pocket watch read that it was 12:35 in the morning, so nobody should be outside at this time. Mrs Scrubbit and Bleacher had threatened any fool who left the building out of hours with multiple gruesome punishments.

So when he peered through the window to see what looked like Willy Wonka darting into the washhouse, he couldn’t help but be curious. What on earth was Mr Wonka doing at this time of night, and in his pajamas of all things?Too peculiar to ignore, the man stood up and put some sensible clothes on to investigate further.

-

Willy really wished he had brought some kind of light with him, the inside of the washhouse looked rather unnerving with only the moonlight and flash of thunder illuminating the interior. He felt around the walls until he found a shelf, scrambling until he found the shape of a candle, box of matches not far behind.

It took a few attempts to strike the match, his shivering hands struggling to get the damn candle lit. But on the fourth attempt he got the old stub of candle alight, having to settle with the puny flame to guide him. He couldn’t just throw the soiled sheets in the hamper, someone for sure would find them tomorrow and question. There was no choice but to wash them, dry and redress his bed. A bitterly cold draft swept through the building, his wet pajamas feeling icy against his skin. With his precious candle being snuffed out in one single breeze.

He groaned in defeat, swallowing anxiously. Wondering just how he was going to do this on his own, he wanted to go back to bed but his bed was now wet and ruined. What was even wrong with him right now? Willy Wonka was the most independent, confident person you could know, why was something as silly as a bad dream and thunder making him feel so unsettled. The knitted toucan in his arm was the only thing he could find some comfort in right now, his button eyes glinting in the moonlight. Holding the bird close to his face, it’s very faint chocolate smell still there from years past.

Taking a deep breath he walked in further, trying to find a washtub. Eventually feeling around to find a large wooden vat. As he was about to dump the sheets inside, to his horror he heard the door loudly creaking open, a yellow light appearing from atop the stairs.

In a panic Willy grabbed at his curls, breathing beginning to hitch. Heavy footsteps echoing down the stairs, the possibilities of who it could be racing through his brain, before coming to a horrifying conclusion. Bleacher. If he found him like this he would never ever hear the end of it, he’d be humiliated beyond belief. The terrible man would probably parade his sodden sheets like a flag to everybody, laughing at stupid Willy Wonka bedwetter.

Willy didn’t know what to do, sliding down to the floor behind the washtub. The steps continued down, watching the warm light fill up the room. In a few moments his hiding spot would be for sure revealed.

“Mr Wonka?”

It was a deep voice, but not gravelly and sinister. A gentle baritone rumble, sounding kind. Although feeling relief that it wasn’t Bleacher, the panic still remained of being caught. He stayed silent, hopeful he would leave. But as Abacus walked further, there was no place left to hide, the man turning a corner to see the chocolatier doing his best to stay in the shadows.

“Oh I’m fine- please just go back to bed”

He squeaked out, but his tone only concerned the other man further. Abacus approaching further with his lamp, illuminating the boy in its shine. In the warm light there was no way to hide his predicament, a terrible silence between the two. Abacus had been concerned as to what on earth was going on, but his expression softened when seeing the chocolatier clutching a handful of sheets in his wet pyjamas.

“Ohh”

Abacus breathed out sympathetically, watching as the Willy Wonkas face crumpled before he looked away with tears in his eyes. A huge lump had formed in his throat, everything felt like it was closing in on him. He couldn’t help but hold onto the silly little bird for security as he felt tears fill his eyes.

“Oh dear boy, it’s quite alright”

Abacus placed the lamp on a table before approaching, his heartstrings being pulled at the sight of the poor boy. He looked so very vulnerable and afraid.

“I’m so sorry”

Wonka admitted quietly, feeling so ashamed. But the kind tone of the older gentleman was weakening his defences. Unable to hold back a small sob, as his body folded in on itself. Abacus was certainly shocked by the reaction, having never seen the man so emotional. Of course he had every reason to feel embarrassed, but it wasn’t something Abacus hadn’t seen before being both a father and grandfather.

“There’s nothing to apologise for, it happens to the best of us”

He spoke gently, putting an arm around the chocolatier. It was the straw the broke the camels back for Willy, the comforting voice and affection only making him think of his mother. More tears bubbling over as he couldn’t hold it back anymore. The fuzzy feeling in his head felt even stronger, all he wanted was to be held and to be secure.

Abacus knew that this situation was probably very embarrassing for him, but this kind of breakdown made him think that there was more going on in his head than the accident.

He felt Willy Wonkas knees buckle underneath him, so he held him up before guiding the pair over to a bench. It was clear he needed to get whatever this was out of his system, the mathematician holding an arm over his frame and allowing him to whimper into his shoulder. Although feeling so very embarrassed, Willy couldn’t help but cling to the man, especially when another crack of lightning rung out.

“Ah I see, I gather you’re not a fan of fulgur tempestas”

Abacus had begun to rub small circles into his back, remembering how his Sons were very comforted by the simple gesture. Willy looked up in mild confusion between his tears, not understanding what word was said. Perhaps it was made up, like he usually did when he couldn’t find a rhyme for something. Abacus just chuckled softly.

“Lightning, you’re afraid of it?”

Willy just hunched up a little and quickly nodded with his head turned away, it was a very silly thing to feel so afraid of. It was odd to see Willy Wonka seeming so.. small? Even with his tall lanky frame it felt as if he was holding a scared little boy.

“Now, it’s quite late and getting very chilly. How about we get you more comfortable? You’re shivering”

He patted him on the back, but Willy just looked down anxiously at the sheets still clutched in his hands.

“No need to worry about those, I’ll take them personally and get them cleaned. Nobody has to know”

Standing up, he pulled the damp sheets from his grasp before carefully folding them and placing them in an old washtub behind his desk. Sighing sympathetically at the boys forlorn expression, but gave a small smile when seeing a little creature tucked away under an arm.

“Is that your companion?”

He gestured at the knitted toy, Willy blushing at first and trying to hide it. But Abacus sounded nice about him, not like he was going to poke fun. Hesitantly he presented the bird, his bean filled head sloping to the left. Abacus chuckled as he saw it clearly, it was a very charming little toy.

“Chester.”

Willy spoke extremely quietly, chin to his chest selfconsciously.

“Hm? What was that?”

He leant in closer, holding a hand to his ear.

“Chester, his name”

His voice was so very small, not his usual confident chirpy tone. Yet again Abacus felt his heartstrings being pulled upon, the fatherly instincts in him taking over when he heard that little voice.

“That’s a very good name.”

For the first time that night Abacus caught a small smile from the boy, but it disappeared when a low rumble from outside growled ominously. He held the bird close to him again for comfort, which was a very sweet sight. It truly was as if Willy Wonka had transformed into a small child, his entire body language and demeanour seemed different. Abacus took a step further and bent down a little to his sitting level, holding out his large hand.

“How about we head back to your room and I help you get sorted, you’ll catch your death in those wet things”

His tearstained face looked up, not seeming quite sure. A part of him wanted to stand up straight and assure he was completely alright, he could take care of himself. But when he saw the kind expression on the older man, all he yearned for was his comfort and security. So he accepted the offer, holding onto his hand tight as he stood up.

Abacus couldn’t hold back the sympathetic smile as he guided the boy out of the washhouse, the desperate grip in his grasp reminded him so of his son many years ago. When they made it back outside, he handed Wonka the oil lamp whilst he pulled out his umbrella.

“Now, only a quick walk back inside, could you carry the lamp for me?”

The pair briskly walked through the rain to their accommodation, Willy holding on for dear life throughout the thunder. He’d been so afraid of being caught, but right now he couldn’t feel more grateful to be with in the man’s protection. His head was feeling at its fuzziest. Thankfully it only took a few seconds, Abacus folding up the umbrella once they had made it back inside. Willy had his hands full with the oil lamp and knitted toy, Abacus taking the oil lamp back from his grasp.

“Well done, thank you.”

The simple praise made Wonka glow inside, feeling genuinely proud of such a simple simple task. As quietly as they both could, they ascended the creaking stairs together until they came into Willy’s room. Once they entered the room, Abacus immediately noticed the stain across the mattress. The sight of it making Willys face burn red in embarrassment, but the older man was completely unbothered.

“Alright then, have you got a spare nightclothes?”

Abacus turned as he rubbed his hands together, Willy just standing there with a shrug. He hadn’t brought many clothes with him here, just his signature velvet outfit, a few shirts and only one pair of pyjamas. The other man just sighed in amusement, especially when noting the large amount of chocolate related instruments and inventions in comparison to how little clothes he owned.

“Well, you sit there and I’ll be back in just a moment”

Obediently he sat down on the stool, feeling a little worried about him leaving even if for a few moments. Sqomething about him taking control made him feel wonderfully secure. After Mamma died he had nobody to care for him, no one to tell him what to do. It strangely felt quite good for somebody else to take control. When Abacus returned, it looked to be a large pinstriped sheet in his hands.

“Now this will likely be a bit large on you, but it’ll have to do for now.”

He unfurled the fabric, revealing a white and pale blue pinstripe nightgown. One that would certainly go past Wonkas feet, but the gesture was very touching. Everything abacus was doing for him right now was just.. so kind? Why was he doing this for him? Once again his face screwed up, softly crying as fat tears spilled over.

“Ahh”

Abacus placed the gown on his lap before kneeling to the ground. (With some difficulty with his aching joints) Pulling out a cotton handkerchief from his pocket before dabbing at his cheeks.

“You’re feeling right out of sorts aren’t you?”

The chocolatier just nodded tearfully, allowing his hot teary face be mopped up so carefully. Abacus even getting him a glass of cold water, even if it tasted rather metallic from the Scrubbit plumbing.

“Now I’ll sponge your mattress out, then we can just turn it over for tonight.”

His deep voice narrated, making it his responsibility to make sure the boy could sleep comfortably tonight. Meanwhile Willy changed from the damp clothes into the large nightgown. It smelled softly of lavender soap, much nicer than the usual musty odour of his old pyjamas. Although It came far past his feet, even trailing down like a brides train. When abacus turned from the now turned over and fresh bed, he couldn’t hold back the chuckle at the sight of him.

“Certainly is rather big on you, but it will have to do for tonight.”

He spoke with a smile, guiding a hand on his shoulder towards the bed. He had stripped it and replaced it with fresh smelling sheets. Just before hopping into bed, Willy turned to his case on the desk. It was busy at work pumping out chocolates, but his goal was to turn a little golden handle a few times. It wound for a few moments before a series of notes began to play, a music box tune. A familiar song that always brought him comfort, the exact one his mother would hum under her breath.

“It’s getting late Mr Wonka, perhaps it’s time for you to get settled in bed”

Giving a tap on his shoulder, Willy turned to see his kind expression, holding open the blanket. With a nod he followed, climbing into the now clean and dry bed. For the first time since his mamma was around, he found himself being tucked into the bed. For a moment Abacus wondered what he was doing, bearing in mind that Mr Wonka was indeed a young adult. But there was something about his behaviour right now that didn’t seem usual.

Willy stretched out in bed, pulling the knitted toucan out with his beak poking over the blanket. When Abacus went to leave up though, Willy sat right up in bed with a concerned expression. Upon seeing the reaction to the idea of his departure, Abacus paused for a moment.

“How about I stay for a little while?”

His body relaxed at the statement. Willy didn’t quite know why, but he really really did not want to be away from Abacus right now. Pulling up a stool next to the bed, he noted how Willy began to settle at his presence. Thinking for a moment, he asked the question that had been brewing in his mind for the past hour.

“Im not saying this to offend- Willy, but would you say that you sometimes have a little trouble.. staying grown?”

The question startled Willy at first, trying to process what Abacus had just asked him. He thought for a little while, so much so that Abacus could practically hear the cogs turning round and round in his head. That fuzzy feeling in his head, how sometimes everything around him felt so overwhelming. The overstimulating sensation of feeling so vulnerable. He pulled both his knees up to his chin, finding himself chewing on his thumbnail.

“Maybe..”

Abacus put an arm around the boy, who leant into his shoulder. Perhaps this was simply an outlet that he needed, from what he knew about the chocolatier he had to raise himself after his mother died. He also vaguely remembered from reading from an old psychology textbook that this kind of behaviour could be a result of trauma too. A kind of mental regression response.

“Well i don’t see any problem here, it’s okay to need some extra help and support at times.”

Abacus felt an overwhelming urge to take care of this little boy, especially when seeing the way he held onto the little knitted bird. If this was what he required, he was happy to oblige if he needed him. Then he had a thought, remembering what he was doing before all of this.

“Would you like it if I read you a story? I was in the middle of re-reading an old favourite of mine earlier.”

Willy perked up a little, he couldn’t read books very well. Even with Noodles current teachings, he had vague memories of his mother reading to him, so he nodded furiously. With a smile, Abacus rose up from the stool to return to his room, finding the discarded book lying face down on his desk.

Willy was still tucked beneath the covers, waiting in anticipation. With the book tucked under his arm, Abacus took his place on the stool beside.

“Now this is a very good story, it’s called the Wizard of Oz”

So Abacus began to read the story aloud, Willy taking his place by leaning into his shoulder. Feeling the rumble of the man’s chest as his deep baritone voice narrated the book. At first he tried to follow the words with his voice, like how Noodle taught him so. But it became too muddled for him to follow, all the letters seeming to dance around. Instead he focused on the small inked in illustrations, tracing them gently with his fingertip. He paid attention to the story though for as long as he could, but he couldn’t feel his eyelids drooping. He hadn’t even gotten to the second chapter when he could feel himself drifting off, but he felt a sense of peace that he hadn’t felt in quite a while.

Once the chocolatier was well and truly out of the count, Abacus gently closed the book as to not awaken him. Not before tucking the sheet around his sleeping frame, the boys thumb discreetly tucked away in his mouth. With a smile he crept away, deciding to leave the oil lamp to burn itself out Incase he awoke.

“Goodnight dear Wonka.”