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daz4i · 1 year

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ok. a post to brainstorm doa chuuya bc i gave myself mild brainrot over it just by putting those words together

if any detail in this post inspires you to make art or write a fic please on god tag me if you post it or send it to me 👀👉👈

so. i have a few ideas and unfortunately i can’t quite get them to gel together into one, so i may as well list them all

the mentor fukuchi option

fukuchi got him out of the research facility around the time he was 14-15ish, and, well. mentored him - taught him to fight and basically put in his head all these ideas about unifying the world

i imagine chuuya would be loyal to him, but still somewhat suspicious, esp when he can’t remember his past. speaking of

the bait option

idk if bait is quite the right word? but, like. the way sigma is kept in the doa - he’s promised something he simply can’t say no to. and that thing is information about his past, kept by fyodor who gives him small bits after every mission he completes - just enough to keep him going, but not enough to make him feel fulfilled and want to leave

i’m not sure where this would fit with the timing in his life, but i assume he gets to be in the sheep here, but not with the mafia. do the events of 15 simply not happen? does he simply say no to mori’s offer? maybe fyodor meets him on that cliff before he gets to dazai. idk.

i lied when i said there are a few ideas btw i think i only have these two. anyway the real interesting part isn’t the how and why but rather what he’ll be like when interacting with the members and such. starting with the simplest and getting more complicated as i go

(also an important detail i can’t seem to find a place to fit, but i assume the doa will have the means to nullify arahabaki before it kills chuuya, given how fukuchi has ties not only with the government but also the un, and given how meursault has cells that nullify abilities, one can assume such technology exists and in which case there’s no reason for the doa not to get their hands on it. also as i typed this i remembered sigma has this nullifying gun iirc. so they probably just have more and this is how they get arahabaki down when they need to. or maybe it’s implemented in him somehow, like they can remotely activate smth that’s constantly on him coughchokercough and “turn off” arahabaki without getting near him)

bram

yeah no he doesn’t know about his existence. at least not at first? in the mentor fukuchi option i’m sure fukuchi will show him bram at some point, right before the time of the doa’s introduction in the main story. in this case, i feel like chuuya would honestly feel a sense of kinship with bram, both kind of used as a weapon of mass destruction, except unlike bram he can leave if he wants to (but... can he really? a bit harsh to think about, so he doesn’t like, go out of his way to interact with him)

sigma

“oh my god. another sane person. thank you”

like bram, def a lot of sense of kinship here, but more about the “i only remember the last few years of my life” thing. i feel like they could actually be friends even beyond that, tho. they’re really similar in a lot of ways and they could def bond over it, and i think having someone like chuuya around would make sigma feel better about the whole thing, which i think will make him even deadlier, more desperate to stay in this place he calls home. also, chuuya could back him up in the casino arc, and. um. yeah the hunting dogs will not survive that one

nikolai

nikolai finds out chuuya can technically fly and loses his shit. chuuya will become his new favorite person (but like, the way sigma is, not the way fyodor is). chuuya does not like that to say the least, but he does like to train with him sometimes bc nikolai can help him hone his reflexes

eventually nikolai would get tired of him tho imo? at least in the pre-canon part. chuuya would just be annoyed with his antics, no surprises, and it’ll get boring for nikolai. then he’ll find out abt the arahabaki thing and immediately chuuya is the most interesting person in the world again. he will definitely try to get him to use it constantly. he would love arahabaki sm.

during the actual story tho, after nikolai defects, i imagine he’ll want to free chuuya too. maybe he’ll steal his choker at some point, store it in his overcoat. “prove your free will by possibly be willing to die if you let arahabaki run loose” sort of thing, but actually it’s secretly “don’t be confined by what fyodor and fukuchi are doing to you. be your own person. never use arahabaki if you don’t want to”

fyodor

definitely the one holding the metaphorical leash over him, and chuuya knows it, and hates it. if we go by the “fyodor coming to recruit him at the end of 15′s events” route, he’ll hate how much the guy reminds him of dazai. also he thinks he’s creepy. still, he respects his plans, and does as he’s told for now, but he knows damn well not to trust fyodor. i imagine in said recruiting moment fyodor would probably kill some/all of the sheep to give him a sense of helplessness and like he has no other option but to go with him, so naturally chuuya would resent him for that

like p much everyone else, he has no idea what fyodor’s ability is, but he noticed pretty early that fyodor seems unkillable, so he doesn’t even try. something tells him that despite his own immense power, he won’t be able to kill fyodor, so he picks his battles carefully and never even tries (tho, maybe in the future. maybe i could offer more insight once we learn what fyodor’s ability is and what’s the deal with his supposed immortality)

fukuchi

father figure (derogatory)

i kinda of already got into it in the mentor fukuchi option, so as a tldr, chuuya respects him, is loyal to him, but is suspicious of him

however in the other option i feel like the knowledge of fukuchi being a part of a terrorist organization despite his position would kind of make him... bitter? also eternally curious if fukuchi was somehow involved/knew people who were involved in the arahabaki project somehow. he tries to keep his distance from him, just do what he’s told so he can get what he wants, without getting involved with things bigger than him

i imagine if anyone encourages him to use arahabaki a lot - for actual strategical reasons, not like nikolai who mostly thinks it’s cool - it’d be fukuchi (fyodor would not want to rely on smth this chaotic unless there’s no other choice, imo), which would also make chuuya resent him a bit.

also i wonder if fukuchi would ask him to infiltrate the hunting dogs with him in any of these options. could also be interesting, and also oddly fitting tbh.

anyway yeah that’s all i have for you now. would love to hear your own ideas, or takes on what i already wrote here, just be respectful!! and again if any of this inspires you in any way, please share, i would love to see 🥺

#gonna tag this as #bsd chuuya nakahara #the decay of angels #bsd au #yeah that's enough lol #dan rambles #i will be the first to admit i don't have the best grasp on chuuya's character #so if i'm way off in your opinion on anything here. feel free to offer your take but again just be respectful abt it!!#man some of this feels like a potential fic material. wish i knew how to write 🧐#i def feel like i forgot smth important so i might edit this post later

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goldenhypen · 1 year

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hey y’all ,,, so i wanted to make an update post to get this off my chest and i wanna be completely transparent with you guys ,, BTW don’t get scared or anything sjsjsjs it’s nothing huge or serious but i do wanna let you guys know this in case there’s smth to prepare for in the future ig ,, sjsjsjs

so it’s been pretty obvious that i haven’t written in a wHILE SJJSJ ,, ik for some it may not seem very long, as it hasn’t even been a month since i’ve released new work, but for me, as a writer who tried to get at least one work out a week, this doesn’t feel v good sjsjsjsjs and throughout this season of not posting any new content, i’ve noticed i’ve lost a lot of followers, at times, losing more than gaining, which ik i shouldn’t let matter v much, but inevitably, unfortunately it does play a part in the way i feel about my blog. and during this time, i’ve gone through lots of thoughts about my writing and my future with writing ,, and i’m just going to be completely transparent with you guys and honest, but basically this included/includes losing confidence in my writing, and even questioning whether i want to keep writing or not. there’s some personal reasons behind this which i’d rather not disclose, at least not for now, but who knows ,, maybe this is just a phase of writer’s block and burn out.

also, it’s almost jake’s birthday and being the jake simp i am, i’m going to post a piece on his birthday, but the fact that his day is coming up also actually made me question whether i wanna post smth for him or not,, sjsjsj but i have come to the decision that i will be posting a work on his birthday, and if i’m being honest, jake is my muse for a lot of my ideas sjsjsj (woah what a surprise 😱) yet despite this, it’s still been difficult to produce this piece bc of the current state my mind is still in about my writing. i might even end up scrapping what i have rn and write smth much shorter, but we’ll see how i end up doing shsjsj

but yeah, some thoughts i have to maybe fix whatever you wanna call this ,,, writer’s block, whatever,, if i do want to write more, is to maybe open requests again so i have a motivator to push me to get work out and so that i’m not just running on my own ideas, which can be challenging sometimes. and a thought i had on this, which is still very up in the air for whether i wanna actually implement this is that i think it would be kinda fun to open requests on a regular basis, such as like every weekend for just a few hours,, smth like that,,, another possibility if i don’t end up opening requests, i was thinking of possibly just continuing taking a break from writing like i am rn and just come out with new works occasionally, whenever i get inspiration for new fics.

in all of this being said, i do want to also announce that i will be putting my series the bachelorette on hold as of now. sorry to make you all wait. your anticipation makes me rlly excited for the series, but i can’t bring myself to write it rn, i’m sorry :(

so to summarize, this is NOT a quitting writing announcement post sjsjsjsn i’m not going anywhere, as of now, but in terms of me writing, i do feel uncertain of what i want to do for the future bc of several reasons, but right now, i feel like i need a little bit more of a break <//3 but i will get a jake fic up on his birthday in a few days.

i hope this all makes sense, and i appreciate all of you who read up til the end of this post and for understanding. if you have any questions or words of encouragement or anything like that, i’m still here and am not planning to go anywhere for a while :) i love you guys, thanks for reading <3

#this post is so emo dsjkdksj i'm so sorry #feel free to interact with this post to lmk you've read it :) thanks for doing so and for understanding guys <3 #also this was A LOT SDKJKSDJK #which means #i feel like i’m forgetting smth :D #but this is long enough as is so i’ll just leave it as this sjsnsjjs #thanks for reading <3 #em speaks

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aprofessionalwithoutstandards · 2 years

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I’ve seen you answer a few asks about Medic’s wife lately, so I thought I would throw my thoughts into the ring. (Sorry it's a long one.)

I always felt that, if Medic did have a wife (and it wasn’t just a drunken nonsensical insult from Demo, which I also think is perfectly plausible), they would almost certainly be in a lavender marriage. I.e. a marriage of convenience and coverup. It fits nicely for the time period I think, and they are both 100% in on it. It’s a sham marriage in every way, but gosh darn it works, and it gives them both plausible deniability for there, at the time, taboo romantic and sexual appetites.

Medic has a cover for his attraction to men, plain and simple. If anyone questions him, he just claims that his flamboyant nature is just down to cultural differences with him been European, and then he points to his ‘loyal’ and ‘loving’ wife, who will defend him to the hilt as been the most heterosexual man on the face of the earth. If he could, he would just date men, but been homosexual back at the time was incredibly taboo, you could lose everything, family, friends, career, even your life if you were outed. I don’t think Medic would really care what people would think of him, but at the same time he is not stupid, so he keeps up appearances with his ‘wife’.

Said wife, on the other hand, has always been a promiscuous woman. She enjoys the company of as many different men as she can get her hands on. Having a ‘husband’ who didn’t care was the best-case scenario for her at the time. More so that this though Medic acted as her cover for sleeping with black/other POC men. Interracial relationships been illegal in the US before the late 60’s, she had to be careful. And even after it’s legalisation there was still a huge stigma against minorities and a lot of racism. If there were any accusations against her character for being a loose woman or for supposedly inappropriate interactions with POC, she could point to her pasty, white, European husband who would wax lyrically about what a ‘devoted’, ‘faithful’, and ‘monogamous’ wife she was.

Perfect partners in crime, just trying to love the way they want in a sexually repressed society. The tax benefits aren’t bad either.

YAH I'VE ALSO THOUGHT ABT THIS at least the Medic having a beard bit. There just wasn't rlly a good place for me to bring it up, this blog is kinda escapist for me n I don't generally do the Period Accurate Homophobia/Period Accurate Racism thing (especially since The Period seems to only really be employed for aesthetics and the actual source is full of anachronisms). All this to say that I think this is a good concept n maybe even smth I would explore little bits of (if any of you ever got to see Mick fics) and has definitely been on my mind, I just haven't cultivated the best space for me to bring it up

#i don't think this blog Restricts me btw it's really smth i don't love to think about #so don't get on my ass now talking to me abt period accurate homophobia i really do not want to hear it #ask #anon #tf2 #medic

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chiangyorange · 9 months

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How do you manage to keep writing? It's like I lose motivation and life happens and then I end up staring at a blank page for hours. How do you do it?

microdosing other fixations to stave off burnout. lol. also havin an outline helps me generally. and like people fucking HATE outlines but man. if you know where the fuck youre going it really does help

i cant reaaaaally say this is a 100% Solution but it DOES help me stay motivated enough to be like "im excited enough for this bit of plot to continue kicking and screaming" at least is the case with wmas rn bc while i love this fic so so dearly the way i want to move onto a karai lives fic is eating me aliveeeeee

also theres no wrong in taking breaks, like there is ofc that fear of dropping smth without finishing it and maybe it will come with some dissapointment but like. the time will pass anyway. if smths not making you happy, you have the control to drop it

#chiangy answers

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uglypastels · 10 months

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okay getting to the other stuff now that i’ve said my piece about the heart-wrenching cliffhanger you’re going to keep me up at night with lmao

- he was scared of losing her and was just gonna go be sad in his room by himself🥺

- even though he’s a good pirate (can’t believe i’m a pirate apologist now) he’s killed people before but what sits heaviest with him is that he’s hurt her!!! stfu that’s so pure

- as soon as he said to just call him eddie… oh babeyyy i knew shit was abt to go down in a sinful way. but no! poor eddie was blue balled, reader had a terrifying dream, and us (actual) readers were on the edge of our fucking seat

- the crew said they’d miss her!!

- hellfire shot first, right? (i kept getting interrupted trying to read that part so it’s fuzzy to me) WHAT HAPPENED BEFORE THE RED TAIL SANK I NEED THIS BACKSTORY OH MY GOD

CAN WE TALK ABT THE SMUT JFC. cause you rly fucking delivered on that

- ‘Really? The princess had thought of me, a filthy pirate?’ ‘I’m not a princess.’ You rolled your eyes playfully. ‘Out of all the things to dispute, you argue my words of affection?’

- ^fucking swooning over these lines

- ‘So you can be good for me.’

- ^this one too

- him admitting he lost his control due to jealousy!!! idec if it’s toxic (only cause this isn’t real life) jealous eddie is so hot

- as a tit (wo)man myself, i have to give my thanks for including boob stuff *chefs kiss*

more comments of after the smut cause i apparently have a million fucking thoughts abt this chapter i’m sorry😭

- they comforted each other after their nightmares that is so goddamn sweet im SICK

- ‘I had honesty considered just locking you away and keeping you forever, but I am a man of my word, am I not?’ HE SHOULD HAVE JUST KEPT HER THERE FOREVER. TURNED TF AROUND AND NEVER LOOKED BACK

- reader writing the ransom note and changing the whole story to try to spare eddie/hellfire was so smart oh my god u rly had me fooled that they weren’t gonna get in any trouble and be seen as fucking heroes or smth

- the comment abt him not having carpet fr cracked me up

- he read her mind and shut the idea of staying with him down:(( that son of a bitch (still love him tho)

- and he didn’t tie her hands tight so she could start swinging at any moment!! (c o m e o n reader…we’re fucking waiting! punch ur dad in the face!)

- ‘governor, i see we meet again’ again!!! AGAIN?!!?!

amazing fucking chapter. ur updates always make me so excited, and i’m eagerly waiting for more<333

Dont mind me just giddily giggling over all of this 🤭 but its really hard for me to reply bc i am just rereading your comments and kicking my feet with joy. You really know how to butter me up lmao and i wish i could write rn but i'll be at the beach the whole day so i will have to do with daydreams and the notes app- which, btw, do not ever again apologise for sharing your thoughts!! I as a professional attention whore absolutely thrive off of this so please do not stop

Well, ya know the title of the fic, and it is eddie so you know he's a sweetiepie at heart. He's just been through stuff (and yessss we will find out what. All questions will be answered i hope (unless people have questions to things i did not even consider but so far i dont think that has been the case???).

And listen, with [fan]fiction, there is no such thing as red flags 🫤🙄 only black ones with skulls on them 🏴‍☠️ and toxicity is what makes everything that extra bit spicy.

I am a bit sorry for blueballing yall at the beginning, but if i hadnt then we would not have gotten the rest of the chapter as it is now?? And that counts for something suuurely

plus, i tried to hold off on the smut as long as i could bc i really really do not like writing it, as much as i am an avid lover of it, which brings me to my next point of i really appreciate all the comments on the smut bc i honestly dont know what in doing most times and it was probably the main reason why it took so long to write this chapter because i just freeze up at the mention of genitalia lmao. My brain just becomes that cymbal monkey.

Hehe i was really proud of that pirate/princess line. And the carpet one. Just gotta break up the heaviness sometimes ya know. And you just know these two have that kind of "deprication as love language" affair. Is that a even a thing? Well i made it a thing. Especially since its basically canon for this au that eddie has a major degradation kink.

In a perfect world, they would have been welcomed as heroes, but in a perfect world they also would never have kidnapped her so 🫠

And yes Again 😌

#uglypastels answers #eddielives1986 #long post #hehehehe i love this #probably a bit too much #like youd think i had not written this #but i am really this obsessed with my own work #and what about it #i have very little else going on in my life

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gubler-me-up · 4 years

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Fact Check

Request: I love all Reid don’t get me wrong but there’s just something about early seasons awkward soft and shy Reid that’s just too perfect! I love the idea of the reader always asking later on in the day if he could finish the fact ramble someone cut him off on as they were finding it interesting and him just beaming. Or him being self conscious about being lanky or smth and reader confesses how attracted they are to him and he just smiles so big and confesses right back

A/N: Thanks for the request, anon! We love an early season, awkward Reid! This was definitely a heavily (not really) researched fic for me because I had to make sure everything coming from baby Reid’s mouth was nothing less than accurate 😤 Hope it’s cute enough, fluffy enough and everything you ever wanted from this request! Enjoy!!

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!reader

Category: Fluffiest of fluffs

Content warning: None

Word count: 1.7k

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

It was the second day in a row where everyone was piled with paperwork to complete. You were working vigorously to complete your share by the end of the day. The last thing you wanted to worry about during the weekend was taking home case files to complete them by Monday. You looked around to see if everyone else had the same mindset as you. As you suspected everyone was nose deep in files, except for Dr. Spencer Reid.

As always he had finished early and was just sitting reading one of his many books he brought with him to work. He had his adorable reading glasses on and his long fingers were scrolling down each page as if it was nothing. Sometimes you wished you could read 20,000 words per minute so you could have some leisure time at work.

Your thoughts were interrupted and so was your gaze as you turned to look at Morgan who let out a big, exaggerated groan. You knew how much he hated paperwork out of everyone on the team. He got up and stretched to release some tension from sitting down for several hours.

“I hate paperwork,” he mumbled.

You chuckled. “Join the club.”

“You know, you wouldn’t be piled with paperwork if you didn’t procrastinate so much when it came to doing paperwork, you wouldn’t feel so scared by it,” Spencer said without looking up from his book.

Morgan scoffed. “I’m not scared by it, Reid. I just hate doing them, especially as many as we have.”

“Actually, a lot of the time procrastinators avoid the task at hand because they feel physical pain associated with said task. A great example would be someone who procrastinates tackling a mathematical or scientific equation because just thinking about it hurts them. The parts of our brain which feel pain actually-”

“And it’s time for my coffee break,” Morgan said before leaving his desk.

You looked over at Spencer and saw the excitement of spewing facts about procrastination leave his eyes. He went back to looking down at his book and continued to read. While he was telling Morgan his procrastination fact, you were intrigued. You too struggled with major procrastination.

You truly loved hearing him ramble on about random facts though. You felt more educated about a wide range of topics not even your best college professors could touch on. You always caught him after work to ask for him to finish his fact and he was always glad to tell you the rest. He looked so ecstatic every time you asked and his precious cheeks would turn a little pink. It was as if each time you asked, he didn’t expect you to.

“Psst, hey, Spence,” you whispered.

He looked up at you. “Yes?”

“Does the parietal lobe actually feel pain when we’re scared about something we’ve been procrastinating?” You asked.

“The parietal lobe is quite an expansive part. The centre of the brain controls how a person identifies objects, interpreting touch, understand spatial relationships and feeling pain. Since we have identified what we fear, that part of the brain now associates it with pain automatically. To make ourselves feel comfortable again, we naturally avoid whatever we’re procrastinating,” he explained.

You gawked at him with awe. It was quite entertaining hearing him spit facts out as if he was an audiotape of a textbook. He looked embarrassed again and began to stray his eyes away from yours to avoid your stare. To be fair you shouldn’t be staring at him with such intensity anyway.

“That was very interesting. Thank you for that, Spence,” you said as you looked away from him.

“Any time, Y/N. Glad you like them,” he said.

When he said that you could just hear the smile in his voice. You giggled silently to yourself. You were happy you could make him feel as if he had a sense of belonging when his facts weren’t needed for a case.

“Hey, Y/N. How many case files you got left?” Elle asked.

“About 20,” you said.

“23 if you’re not rounding,” Reid chimed in.

“What the doctor said,” you replied.

Elle chuckled. “Well, since you’re 23 files away from being done, would you be interested in any coffee to speed the process up?”

You let out an exaggerated sigh of relief. “Do I ever.”

“You know coffee can actually stimulate a sense of anxiety, which I don’t think would be handy right now considering you’re almost done,” Reid said.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you, Dr. Coffee addict. Besides, in your world Y/N is almost done, but in our world she’s going to need a coffee to keep going. How do you take it?” Elle asked as she stood up.

“Two sugars with milk,” you said.

“You should try switching out milk for cream. Cream actually makes coffee stay warm longer because-”

“And I’ll be right back,” she said as she walked away.

You looked over at Spencer who went back to reading again. You were going to ask him to continue, but thought it was best to ask him after you were done your case files. If you neglected them any longer your fear of having your weekend ruined would become a reality. Unlike Morgan, you were ready to kick your fear of doing case files to the curb.

At the end of the day, you packed up your things to leave. You ended up finishing all your casework and could finally look forward to the weekend. You walked out of the bullpen towards the elevator. To your pleasant surprise Spencer was there still.

“Hey, thought you left already,” you said.

He turned his head around to look at you. He had taken his glasses off and you could see his big, hazel eyes clearly. His face was so inviting with his awkward smile and rosy cheeks. You couldn’t understand why anyone would shut down his eager fact spilling with a face like his.

“No, I, uh, decided to stick around a bit,” he said.

“Great. I just wanted to say how right you were when you said cream makes your coffee stay warm longer. My second cup was warmer way longer than my first. Why is that?” You asked.

His awkward smile turned into a beaming one. “Well, it’s because cream thickens coffee, so it slows the process of evaporation. By slowing the initial evaporation process, you avoid losing a lot of heat altogether.”

“Oh my God, I’ve been drinking coffee wrong my whole life?” You rhetorically asked.

“Actually not your entire life because according to American Academy of Pediatrics the proper age for coffee intake is 12 or older with the average intake being between 85 to 100 milligrams per day,” he said.

“It was rhetoric and sarcastic, but that is one fact I did sort of know,” you giggled.

He blushed. “Sorry.”

You pressed the elevator button. “No, it’s fine. I love hearing you tell facts, so I don’t mind.”

“Why?”

You looked at him confused. “Why what?”

“Well, I-I mean, um, no one really asks me to continue a fact,” he said.

“Well, I’m not them. I enjoy learning through you,” you assured him.

The elevator doors opened and you both walked in. You two stood fairly close to each other in an empty elevator. You looked over at Spencer, but he didn’t look at you. He was looking straight ahead, trying his best not to make eye contact with you. His face was even redder than before. You cleared your throat, but he didn’t even move his eyes over to you.

“Are you okay, Spen-”

“Out of curiosity, Y/N, do you actually enjoy talking to me?” He asked as he turned to look at you.

You nodded. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, you just seem as if you’d rather talk to Morgan or Elle over me,” he said.

You chuckled. “Is that your profile of me, doctor? If so, it’s weak. I love nothing more than hearing your facts or informing me of something new in your world of expertise. I really like talking to you.”

He looked at you wide-eyed, almost stunned. You don’t think once in his entire life he felt as if his rambles were appreciated somewhere. You were glad you could let him know that they are and that your ear was always ready for them.

“I wouldn’t expect you to find someone like me great to be around. I ramble, I’m awkward looking and lack a bit in understanding social cues. You’re more uniformed and I just thought you’d like people in your circle to be the same way,” he said.

“Spencer, I have no idea how Gideon even got you into the field with profiling skills like yours. I think you’re amazing mentally and physically. The social cues could use some work, but everything else is darn near perfect,” you said.

A wide smile flashed on his face before he tried to hide it by pressing his lips tightly together. He looked at the floor for a few moments. You had probably broken Dr. Spencer Reid. If he had nothing to say you had messed some wiring up.

He looked back up at you. “I… I think you’re amazing as well in every way possible.”

You giggled. “Is that a fact or a guess?”

He chuckled. “Um, uh, a fact.”

The elevator doors soon opened and you both stepped out. You looked at him as you pulled out your car keys from your purse. He fully embraced his big smile as he still tried to avoid eye contact with you. At least you broke him in one area.

“How about we fact check your fact about me and go get coffee sometime. Only with cream and sugar, of course,” you said.

He looked at you and nodded. “I’d like that.”

“Great, I’ll call you,” you said as you waved him goodbye.

He waved at you as well as you both turned your backs to each other to go your respective ways. You were giddy about your future date with Spencer. Half because you thought he was an amazing individual and wanted to know him on a deeper level. Half because you wanted to know what new facts he could tell you. Either way it was going to be a grand time for both of you.

—–

MASTERLIST

#spencer reid #dr. spencer reid #dr.spencer reid #Spencerreid #mgg #mgg fic #Matthew Gray Gubler #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid request #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #Criminal Minds #criminalminds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds imagine

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genshin-impacted · 3 years

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gift giving // Diluc x Reader

notes: first-person POV, gender-neutral reader, you have a best friend, diluc is lowkey a sugar-daddy; very different format from my usual writing (no capitalization); I assure you I know how to capitalize but not in this fic

wc: ~1300

insp.

diluc offers me something small at first; a trinket that reminds him of me and i feel endeared because he thought of me. and he keeps giving me gifts, sometimes by hand and others via delivery. and each one grows more expensive than the other. it goes from a simple hair tie to a pearled broach to diamond inlaid slippers, all delivered on our shared doorstep with nothing but his name as the sender.

i don't know what to think. i was flattered by his attention and now i'm confused on what this all means when he has yet to talk to me about anything. and without talking to me, i don't know his intentions and it's hard not to think about ulterior motives even if its someone like diluc.

back when this first started, i brought up gift reciprocity but its so hard to buy something for him when he can buy anything u can get for him. he seems to be surprised at first that i even offered, like that didn't even come to mind that i would get him smth that reminds me of him. he says i don't need to, and asks me how i like the hair tie i'm wearing that he gifted. my response only encourages his behavior, his feelings for me (and for me adorning his gifts) only growing.

but now with gifts far too pricey, there's just no way i can buy anything of equal value, and that makes me uncomfortable because it makes me feel like i might have to offer smth else in return. (diluc doesn't expect anything back at all; he truly just wants to shower his person of affection with riches he never really cared for but now that he can buy something for someone he cares about it's a little addicting.)

i address this issue with my best friend and they meet diluc when he walks to the doorway to drop something off for me-- something more modest, thank god, they think, but they have to ask anyway. "diluc, why don't you deliver these in person?" not the exact question they want to ask but they figure they can build up to it.

"i don't always come at the most convenient of times," he points out. "i don't think many are awake at dawn or in the dead of night."

"you'd be surprised," they say. "we're usually awake at night so you should try coming then." instead of leaving things in the doorway, they want to add.

diluc blinks and the grip on his gift tightens. "visiting someone so late at night, well-" and to their surprise, his cheeks redden, as though he's more embarrassed by the notion of visiting someone he's sweet on after dusk than his rather conspicuous and abundant spoiling with material goods. they never chalked master diluc up as an ostentatious man, and now you think maybe he doesn't realize how his actions may look if that's the reaction you get for suggesting something relatively harmless like a visit (late or not).

"i think they would like it a lot if u hand-delivered your gifts at least," they say, getting into the crux of the problem. when he shifts, they quickly suggest, "or maybe leave a letter saying... anything? it would be nice for her to hear from you i think."

my best friend will have to profusely refuse a thank-you gift for your advice, but they receive a gift in tow anyways despite their best efforts. (having your best friend being doted on by the richest bachelor in town had its perks after all.)

letters come with the gifts. (and i must have talked to him about the luxury items because they are less costly now, though some of them still peak with price.) my best friend come back home to see me rereading and pouring over the letters he wrote me. he writes formally, his words more like a medieval lord than anything he's done so far, and it is not difficult to swoon over the subtle way he shares his day with me and read what i hope is his feelings for me in-between the lines

gifts are not my love language. i fumble with gift giving when it comes to the way diluc can spoil me, and i can never win against him (not as though i can lose either). but i try my best to create something for him before i can go and ask for his time, which i find invaluable above all else.

it is a mini project i undertake, making two albums for him and me. one to keep all his letters and flowers pressed into the pages and the other for pictures of the past, present, and hopefully future.

on days i meet up with him, i always purposely wear something he has given me. his attention on me is always rapt, his red eyes trailing after me like i'm the most captivating thing in mondstadt, and it makes me feel small and big all at once-- shy and confident. for this one, i wear the hair tie he's given me and deliver the gift.

he is speechless. (i assume he likes it.)

then i let myself explain how i feel about the gifts. "what do you think of me?" i ask. "i want to know for sure so i can make sense of the gifts."

"make sense?" he echoes.

"yeah. i love my friends and i would love to gift them all types of things, and you're doing the same thing but... i want to know in what way. is it the same way or is it different?" i continue. "you... like seeing me in the things you buy for me right? in what way?"

"i want to spoil you," diluc says simply. "is that strange?" he reaches out to my hair, tied up in that hairtie of his, and i cannot look at him in the eyes.

"in what way?" i ask again and dare to glance back up.

he breathes out slowly. "in any way you want."

i squeeze my hands, urging me to be brave. "in that case, would you go on a date with me then? for dinner?" you pause. "I'm paying." when he intends to protest, i quickly rebut, "i need to share in the costs or i'll go insane, diluc, please. or tell me at least how i can-"

"dinner," diluc says, and i marvel at the way he blushes, “that would be..."

"good?" i supply playfully.

"...more than good," he finishes. the small smile he gives me relaxes me immediately.

"i cant be bought," i say to him quietly.

"i know." he says, "that was never my intention."

"i need you to let me know how to spoil you too."

"you already are," diluc says, eyes flickering to the hairtie, and when he lifts my sleeve up just enough to see the bracelet he gave me also, his gaze lingers on my wrist.

i flush under his undivided attention; i always do. "i- that cant be all," i stammer nervously, the poise i came with to confront him out the window when i feel his gloved fingers press against the tender part of my pulse.

"we can think of other ways," he says, and his eyes are intense as always. i feel myself burn in his gaze. "always in your comfort. always."

"okay," i say, small, but in a good way, like he always makes me feel whenever he looks at me as though there can be no one else like me. it makes my head light. "I'm looking forward to it," i say, and he looks at me curiously, "to spoiling each other.”

"me too," he says, and he means it, just as much as each gift meant something when given to me-- that i can understand now.

#diluc x reader #genshin impact x reader #diluc #diluc/reader #diluc ragnivindr #diluc brainrot still on high

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ironmandeficiency · 3 years

Text

fuck you very much

pairing: javier peña / reader

word count: 988

summary: if you say “fuck you very much” fast enough, it sounds like you’re saying “thank you” instead of “fuck you”

a/n: i reread this fic of mine and had this idea for a sister fic based on smth my parents say so 🤷🏻‍♀️ also steve casually calls you “man” once & javi says “our girl” as a slight joke

you wish these meetings would start to bring good news. conversations with the ambassador are, more often than not, preludes to bad or worse news. criticizing how one operation went and giving unnecessary reminders to the importance of your job as if you’re not on the field before the sun rises and long after it sets. it’s chock-full of ridiculous bureaucracy and ego balancing under the guise of being polite guests in colombia and it drives you absolutely mad.

because you weren’t a man in a man-dominated field, you had a tighter noose on your neck. the slightest sway of the breeze, one wrong move could put your career (and sometimes, life) in jeopardy. you couldn’t lash out in anger without being seen as “psycho” or “too emotional.” if you took a page out of javier’s book and tried sleeping around to let out steam, any respect you’ve earned on the field through your hard work would be tarnished by your sex life.

it was hard for your first several months in colombia to not rip new ones in the many many people who disrespected you. one phone call home reminded you of a trick that a family friend used when piled down with the paperwork of people who couldn’t be bothered to do what was required of them. every time people would drop a thick stack on her desk, she would smile and give them a “fuck you very much” spoken fast enough to be misheard for a thank you.

at first you were hesitant to use this tactic at work. if you didn’t speak it fast enough or if the wrong person could truly understand you, it could result in disciplinary action that you didn’t have the patience to deal with. that would only give even more ample reason for you to need said trick.

then stechner visited.

everything about this man radiated shifty and skeevy. no matter how you tried, there was almost nothing (and you don’t say this lightly) redeemable or tolerable about that man. even his bald spot had the power to annoy you, which was a feat in itself. the only thing you could do was tough it out when you were around him and hope that if you didn’t have the patience, you’d have an untraceable gun.

today was one of those days where nearly everyone (but mostly stechner) rubbed you the wrong way and you were this close to tearing your hair out and screaming bloody murder in frustration and indignation. it all came to a head when you were called into ambassador noonan’s office and stechner was sitting there like the cat who ate the canary. you were too busy wondering what canary could he have eaten to warrant such a smug look to be fully paying attention to the ambassador’s scolding.

“are you even listening, agent?! the government pays you to listen to your superiors, yet here you stand…”

javier and steve open the door mid-scolding and your blood cools just enough to keep control over the hand itching to deck the cia agent not even trying to contain his amusement. “i hate to say this… peña, murphy,” messina sighs in resignation, wagging a finger between the men. “you two, reel this one in or all three of you face suspension. i’m not going to tolerate any more rogue agents running around colombia.”

everyone in the room knew that messina was desperate if she was asking steve and javi to reel you in. this desperation gave way to an awkward tension in the air felt by all but stechner, the douche. in spite of the awkwardness cloud, you were fuming at the audacity of messina for dragging you in front of stechner and your partners. your partners were truly expecting there to be smoke coming from your ears the longer they watched the scene unfold, bodies tense and ready to pounce in case they had to keep you from letting loose on the smug cia agent.

you took a deep breath. this was not the hill to die on, and you weren’t going to give stechner the pleasure of watching you go down in flames. instead, you spoke with a smile and saved your anger for a time when you wouldn’t lose your job for showing it. “well fuck you very much for your time. if there’s anything else i can do for you, please let me know.” and with that, you walked out without looking back.

it didn’t take a genius to know that your partners were following you out of the ambassador’s office. their footsteps echoed on the cheap tiled floor with the tact of a clumsy elephant. you didn’t grace them with your attention until you were slumped in your desk with a huff. “what is it, guys?”

“you literally just said ‘fuck you’ to the ambassador and didn’t get fired on the spot, man.” he scoffed as he sat and lit a cigarette. “you’re insane!”

okay, so someone caught on to it. as long as it wasn’t the ambassador, you still had a job. plus, it pleasantly surprised your boys which was a feat in itself, those two (sometimes) had hawk eyes and it’s typically hard to sneak something by them. on other occasions, you might as well ask a brick wall for help with how blind they could be.

javi laughed at the smug smile you wore at your accomplishment, knowing you were gonna ride this high for a while. “we shouldn’t expect anything less from our girl, stevie,” he replied with a wink. “now let’s get to work, we gotta make sure we keep her in line.”

all three of you laughed at that remark knowing full well that the three of you were waking chaos in blue jeans and badges. there was going to be no reining in getting done anytime soon, but that’s what made colombia a bit more tolerable.

javi taglist: @catsnkooks @senator-nahberries @majorshiraharu @stardustsunrisekisses @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @darthadeline @max--phillips @themarcusmoreno @jedi-mando @obirain @battletales @greeneyedblondie44 @pedropasscals @princess76179 @kaermorons @hornystarwarsbisexual @lv7867 @whovianwar @purelypascal @andysficrecs @book-of-anarchy

#javier peña imagines #javier peña x reader #javier peña #narcos #fuck you very much #narcos imagine #pedro pascal

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chitsangenthusiast · 2 years

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can i ask about your writing process? i’m just curious like how do u go from thoughts to outline to drafting to posting? how long do u work on something before posting? do u have a beta? i feel like your word choice is so intentional and distinct and that’s pretty unique to your writing style :)

!!!! first off: thank you so much 🧡🧡 my writing style is definitely a product of being inspired by writers who love to take the time building scenes that you can really see and feel, as well as just being ridiculously in love with tiny details!

but also: i'm really bad with words+at picturing things in my head at first lmaooo it takes a lot of work to get to the final version and my writing process is honestly a mess, but usually goes like:

generalized bare bones plot -> conversational 5+1 fic format outline -> shitty first draft -> second draft to begin ""stage blocking"" -> drafts 3-500: wordsmithing until my fingers and brain hurt -> final review and then post :)

i call myself a slow writer but really i'm just a slooowww editor bc of the wordsmithing part lol

since the summer i've really allowed myself to indulge in my writing style, so not only are things longer+take more time to edit (mallrat chpt 1 is like 5.3k words vs chpt 5 at 16.8k lmfao), but i also do in fact try to be really intentional with my words and descriptions. it's a huge compliment that you think the same, bc it's a fun/painful part of writing that is damn near heavenly when i'm finally satisfied with how i write smth 🧡

but my biggest bestest writing aid? naps lol <3

(a v lengthy, more detailed process stages explanations under the cut, if interested!)

generalized bare bones plot: i'm actually v big on starting with basic plots/concepts and then, if needed, molding the idea to fit specific characters. some are obv specially built (hmlyd!), but being primarily plot-focused inspires me to just write vs worrying abt getting everything on brand/in character right away

conversational 5+1 fic format outline: i enjoy writing fanfic basically the same way i like interacting with fandom, so how i write my tumblr posts+tags are generally how i begin my outlines! they're basically lighthearted conversations with myself lol it's like my version of rubber duck debugging? but doing it this way and in a 5+1 format forces me to figure out the major plot points bc otherwise i will 100% lose the plot lol

shitty first draft: and it's shitty ofc! helps me decide how to lay the scene/chapter out as well as the overall emotions i want characters to feel. writing a first draft is fairly easy bc it still follows the outline's conversational nature to an extent, but also the words are bad and basic and repetitive and there's more [bolded brackets] than actual content, bc i use them as reminders to fix things/find better words later so to not break my focus

stage blocking second draft: i didn't realize this until it was pointed out to me recently, but i will do a terrible imitation of stage blocking in the second draft. obsessed with details = having /very vivid/ imagery in mind when i'm writing a scene, and so i try to do a first pass in describing everything as best i can here! i also tend to act out certain motions/facial expressions until i can figure out how to describe them lol

still lots of brackets and bad/repetitive words, but getting there!

wordsmithing drafts: jk not getting there <3 this is where all the emotions and actions and etc get attacked until i've properly obsessed over every word and description lol

this is a stage that's become more and more involved as i indulge myself with my writing style tbh. sometimes it goes extremely easy! sometimes it's very painful!!!! hmlyd took a combined seven drafts between the two chpts before posting. mallrat chpt 5 took 26 🙃

i keep an extra word doc on hand to catch any lines/dialogue/etc that i decided to change or remove altogether, just in case they can be used again later, or to replace any of the edited stuff if i like the original wording more!

(or. even to be used in other fics. i've taken lines that were originally meant for hmlyd and put them into mallrat lmaoo)

final review: i use scrivener to write in bc it nicely groups things together in one place (example below), but i do a final review in word to find any grammar mistakes and still-too repetitive words. i use word as my final attempt to be a bit more creative/deliberate with the words i choose lol

and then! post!! whew 🧡🧡

#i know i've mentioned the naps thing before but literally. i Cannot Stress how instrumental they are in my writing process lmaooo #active writing and napping are the two instances where i can mentally picture things so they go hand-in-hand extremely well #i also don't have a beta which probs contributes to the fact that it takes forever lol but i've never had one!#tbh idk how i'd be able to feasibly include someone into my writing process bc it's just. so all over the place lol #anyway i hope this is what you were looking for!! <33 #OH wait the writers i'm inspired by: hanif abdurraqib; kayla ancrum; isabel allende!#ask #anon

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4dtk · 4 years

Text

b’day boy

anon: “hi hi hi hi!!! how’re you!! idk if you’re requests are on but!!! can i request smth where jaehyun thinks the reader forgot abt this bday bc she didn’t text him all day but she actually flys to seoul to see him?? basically johnny helped surprise him!!” quick pretend johnny is living on the same floor as jaehyun for this fic. enjoy anon! :-)

“hey! happy birthday, man,” johnny greets jaehyun, slapping him on the back as the birthday boy answers with a nod and a tired smile.

the dorm’s still quiet in the morning, save for the boiling water and the white noise from beyond the flat. the taller male doesn’t miss the way jaehyun’s smile drops, eyeing his phone a meter away from him in case the plan’s busted.

“hm… hyung, have you heard from (y/n) lately? i haven’t gotten her breakfast text, which is weird…”

jaehyun exits the messaging app for the umpteenth time, seeing if there was anything wrong with the internet or with his phone itself.

johnny shakes his head at the question, going back to prepare his coffee as he struggles to hold back a smile.

“sorry, jae, i’m not so sure about that.”

he saves his phone as it lit up right as you messaged, spamming to the poor guy about nerves and bizarre situations due to your overthinking mind.

(y/n) the homie: ?????? what ???? the hell do i wear!!!!!!!!

(y/n) the homie is typing…

(y/n) the homie: i’m trying to hard rn not to click on jaehyun’s name lol

(y/n) the homie: unnnnf i feel so bad johnny

johnny 🔥🥱🕴: u know for someone that has my contact name in wack ass emojis, i’m not gonna help you fashion-wise

johnny 🔥🥱🕴: don’t worry k, plus it was ur idea!!!! how’s the packing coming along

(y/n) the homie: haha very funny, i am already on the plane mf

“john, hyung, you already made the reservation for tonight yea?” jaehyun asks sleepily, getting up from his comfy position on the table solely to get a chance at johnny’s coffee.

the other hums, having had made reservations for 12 people. sicheng was joining the boys for dinner tonight and taeyong was bringing his girlfriend as well, leaving one last seat for you.

one last text catches johnny’s attention, hoping all will turn out well tonight.

(y/n) the homie: i’m taking off rn, pls follow the plan or i think i’ll actually cry

johnny 🔥🥱🕴: is typing…

johnny 🔥🥱🕴: overdramatic. i will, just focus on getting to korea safe yea

you leave it as that, buckling in and settled in quick well once the plane had reached a certain altitude.

the present you prepared couldn’t leave your mind, debating here and there whether jaehyun would like it or not.

would something go wrong? we didn’t fight before this, did we?

your thoughts travel everywhere, trying your best to relax while you find a film to distract you. soon, you ease into the movie and then, into a comfortable sleep.

it’s almost evening when the captain announces the landing in a few more minutes, bringing you to open the window.

although the clouds seemed to dance around the plane and the deep blue of the sky takes over the day, the sight provides little comfort as you practice your korean in the plane.

you repeat the restaurant’s address in your head even through immigration, steps unknowingly speeding up at how excited you were.

on the other hand, jaehyun gets more and more worried at the lack of texts, eyeing the single one sent early in the morning at 3am, while you bid each other goodbye on facetime. nothing seems to get him out of his daze, having been reminded several times of the car that was waiting for him.

as the manager wishes him a happy birthday, jaehyun could only thank him half-heartedly, staring down at his phone with a frown.

johnny 🔥🥱🕴: oh man you gotta have like a full on dance number when u enter or something. your mans can’t stop sighing at his phone like it’s a magic mirror

(y/n) the homie: oh nooo, crap, i feel so bad. i’m omw, gotta thank u for going over my korean before this flight

johnny 🔥🥱🕴: you learnt it from the best

(y/n) the homie: 🙄🙄🙄

your eyes pass through many different shops and districts, observing the busy streets of korea and it’s liveliness and wondering if you will ever be up to living in such an exciting country.

it was a long drive, your feet unable to stop moving while you kept yourself calm by counting the exchanged money over and over. a notification from @johnnyjsuh lights up your phone and brings you out of your anxiety for a bit, the instagram story filling up the screen as he records the grand restaurant that they would be dining in.

johnny 🔥🥱🕴: you here?

(y/n) the homie: yes, almost. this person right here is very jumpy and tense

johnny 🔥🥱🕴: breathe, i’ll give u the green light soon

(y/n) the homie: kk

with one foot out the cab, you find yourself needing to calm your heart, feeling the familiar heat and adrenaline rush through your body at seeing your boyfriend.

you eye your phone for the last time, entering on johnny’s cue to surprise jaehyun. with his back turned to the event room, your lips naturally curl into a smile as you watch him through the glass panel.

the gentle jazz pouring from the speakers give the atmosphere its intended ambience, as the boys catch up with sicheng and others converse with each other. they keep their cool according to plan as you enter silently, the gift clutched under your arm tightly.

“guess who?”

with your hands over his eyes, you can almost feel his shock.

“what... no way,” jaehyun’s jaw drops, gaining some laughs from the members as he turns around rapidly. his latches onto your smile, the corners of his lips slowly stretching into a grin before you stumble back at his embrace.

jaehyun holds you tight, as if you’d vanish once you left this room. his arms were wound around you all the way by the next minute, leaving you with no opportunity to breathe.

“babe, i can’t breathe,” you blurt out, making the male release you almost immediately before you attack with your own hug, loving how you could feel the rumble of his chest as he giggled.

“was everyone in on this?” you nodded as he turned to his members, most of them donning bright, sly smiles and jungwoo even winking when he met his eyes.

“y’all are incredible,” jaehyun throws his head back in laughter, an arm naturally encircling your waist as you pile your present with the other’s, making your way to your seat after.

dinner is filled with joviality and loud conversation, even coaxing johnny into revealing that he was the ringleader of the plan. the birthday boy applauds his subtlety, bringing the night to a close an hour or two later as each member finishes their share of the cake.

“i’ll come in later, you guys should head back first,” jaehyun states, pressing a kiss to your temple as the others bid you goodbye.

the lean into your boyfriend feels natural, the cool breeze brushing past your face as he interrogates you about you ghosting him.

“i was so worried, i honestly thought you forgot about me.”

you chuckle, “do you think i really could? when there’s valentine decorations everywhere? i wouldn’t forget it even if it wasn’t valentine’s,” you mused, matching up with jaehyun’s steps.

“it would be sad if my own girlfriend couldn’t remember when i was born.”

the two of you fall quiet, enjoying each other’s company as you stroll around the park near the restaurant.

“say, did you like the surprise?”

“like? baby, i loved it,” jaehyun pulls you in, the walk stopped short while he holds your freezing fingers, “thank you.”

you answer in the form of a smile, tippy-toeing to reach his lips halfway as the moon shines on. it settles your heart in familiarity and warmness, never losing that giddy fondness whenever you were with jaehyun.

“i’d travel anywhere to be where you are, jung jaehyun.”

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wondernimbus · 4 years

Text

ottery st. catchpole — cedric diggory

pairing: cedric diggory x female!reader

request #1: Hi! Do you mind writing a Cedric x reader fic where y/n loves and is the best baker? She hands him a treat and he finds himself slowly falling for for her (idk smth really cute please!) Thanks :))

request #2: Can you write Cedric and the reader sharing their first kiss together? 🥺

a/n: decided to combine two requests since i thought they’d work well together!

The muggle village of Ottery St. Catchpole was a fascinating place.

The first time Cedric had gone there at age eight, he'd thrown on an odd assortment of muggle clothes: a pink strawberry-patterned shirt, overly large bell-bottoms from his father's closet, and a pair of flip-flops. He learned quickly that that was not the kind of attire that would get him unnoticed by the Muggles—rather the opposite, actually, as he earned odd stares everywhere he went. But there were no "ordinary" Muggle clothes in his closet and nor did his father, so the next time he went to the village and came across a clothesline hanging unguarded outside of a Muggle house, he snatched himself two shirts and a pair of jeans and made sure to leave a thank you note under their door.

Free to wander the village without skeptical stares of Muggles following him everywhere, curious, eight-year-old Cedric made sure to explore every inch of it from the park to the chapel to the tavern.

But his most favorite, perhaps, was the bakery.

It was a quaint little place, tucked away in the corner away from the bustling main road. Its battered sign read "Old Corner Bakery", and underneath it there was a window display of the most delicious, succulent-looking pastries Cedric had ever seen in his life. It looked—though he would never let her hear him say it—even better than the ones his mother would make at home.

And so one day, Cedric, oblivious to the workings of the Muggle world and the fact that their currency was very much different from theirs, walked through the door, marched right up to the counter where his tiny head only barely peeked out from, and held up a single golden galleon. "One of those, please," he told the old lady behind the cashier, pointing at a mouth-watering custard tart on display.

The old lady reached out for the galleon, baffled. "What is this?"

"For a custard tart," replied Cedric, handing it to her.

"I've never seen anything like this," she said in wonder, holding the galleon up to the light. "Good grief, is this real gold?"

Cedric frowned, puzzled. "It''s a galleon."

The lady's face fell. Scowling, she handed it back to him. "So it's a toy," she sniffed. "I would tell you to scram, but I've seen you pass by here ogling at my pastries once or twice before. I'll give you one for free. What was it you wanted again?"

Cedric, although a little confused by how she wouldn't take his galleon, beamed in delight. If it was for free, he wasn't going to complain.

And so Cedric walked out of the bakery a few moments later with half a custard tart in his hands and the other half already snug in his stomach. He wondered to himself if all Muggles were like this; if he went to that shop near the town square, would he get more stuff for free?

He tried, and needless to say, failed.

The next day, Cedric came back to the bakery bearing two sickles. As happy as getting free food made him, something about exploiting an old woman's kindness didn't sit right with him. If she didn't want the galleon, maybe she would take a sickle instead.

But when he walked through the bakery doors, he found that the old woman was nowhere to be seen. Instead, in her place behind the cashier, there was a little girl about his age.

"Welcome to Old Corner Bakery!" she beamed, childish face shining brightly. "How may I help you?"

Cedric drew towards her, a pout on his face. "Where's the old lady?"

"The old lady?" she asked. "Oh, you mean grandma!"

He nodded.

"She's in the kitchen—baking, you know. I handle customers like you when she's too busy and I'm not doing homework," the little girl explained, grinning.

"Oh," said Cedric. "In that case, I want a cauldron cake!"

She tilted her head to the side, brows furrowed. "What's that?"

"A cauldron cake," he repeated. "Have you not got those here?"

Bottom lip jutting out in thought, the little girl scratched her head and hopped off of the stool she was apparently standing on to look over the cashier; as soon as she did, she disappeared behind the counter and into the kitchen. "Grandma!"

The familiar voice of the old lady replied, "Yes, dear?"

"Do we have cauldron cakes?"

"What?"

Cedric waited patiently by the counter, hands fiddling with the two sickles he held in his hands. "Cauldron cakes, grandma!" the little girl yelled louder.

"Never heard of 'em!" the old lady replied from the kitchen.

A moment later, the little girl was clambering back onto her stool behind the cashier. "I don't think we have those here," she told Cedric, and then, in a curious tone, "They sound delicious, though! What are they?"

A wide smile stretched across Cedric's round face—he looked as though he'd been waiting to be asked that for centuries. At a rapid pace, he began to gush, "They're chocolate cakes shaped like cauldrons and they've got melted chocolate in them and sometimes my mum uses this spell so that the chocolate doesn't run out and you can keep eating forever. She takes off the spell sometimes, though, because she says if I keep eating I'll get as fat as dad."

The little girl giggled, but then, with her eyes wide, asked, "Did you say spells? Like magic? The kind wizards and witches use?"

Cedric's eyes grew as wide as, if not even wider, than hers. He took a quick step back and cleared his throat, eyes darting around the bakery in panic. He'd forgotten, for a moment, that she was a Muggle—he'd almost revealed the secret of the wizarding world to her and defied his parents' warnings!

"Um," Cedric stammered, stuffing his two sickles back into his pocket. "Nevermind. Sorry!"

And just like that, he dashed out of the bakery, leaving the little girl staring after him, thoroughly intrigued.

—

Cedric did not go back to the village the next day under the irrational fear of accidentally revealing the wizarding world's biggest secret; that magic existed. Obviously, an eight-year-old wizard letting such a thing slip to yet another eight-year-old Muggle would little affect the wizarding world, but Cedric, childish and oblivious as he was, did not want to take any risks.

And so it took him a week before he mustered up the courage to go back into the village. He hadn't been planning to go into the bakery—he only hoped to catch a glimpse of the pastries by the window—but he found that the little girl was sitting outside on the front steps, munching on a piece of bread.

Mere seconds from legging it, the girl looked up and their eyes met. "Hey!" she called out, perking up. "I know you!"

Cedric froze from where he stood several feet away. He thought it'd be rude to bolt when she'd already noticed him, and so he walked forward tentatively, half-expecting her to start badgering him with questions about wizards and witches and magic. But she only patted the empty space next to her and beckoned him to sit down, that same cheery smile on her face that Cedric had seen a week ago.

He sat next to her on the stone steps, crossed arms propped on his knees as he turned his head to look at her. She was tearing the bread she held in her hands into two halves, the other half of which she handed to him.

"Thank you," said Cedric, taking it.

"You're welcome!" the little girl replied, face positively glowing with the warmth of a thousand suns. Taking a bite out of her now considerably smaller chunk of bread, she tilted her head and said, "I don't think I've ever seen you at school before."

He took a bite out of his own, eyes skittering away to look at the pavement. "My parents teach me school stuff at home," he told her. It wasn't a complete lie, although he guessed that the things that she learned in her Muggle school were a stark contrast to the magic he learned from his mum and dad.

"Oh, that sounds fun!" the little girl said, beaming. "Don't you get sad, though? Not having any kids your age to play with? Assuming you don't have siblings."

"I don't," replied Cedric through a mouthful of bread. It was some sort of strawberry crumpet. "I'm an only child. I suppose it does get lonely, sometimes, but that's why I go out here—to the Mugg—I mean, the village."

She nodded, mouth moving to form an o shape. "Neat. So you don't have homework?"

He shook his head. The girl's shoulders slumped and a frown quickly found its way onto her face. "I wish I didn't get homework," she said sullenly. "They give us a whole stack of it over the summer. I hate it."

Cedric bit the inside of his cheek. He didn't quite like the frown on her face; something about it made him feel unsettled, like something had gone wrong in the world. He nudged her shoulder with his. "It can't be that bad," he said, offering her a tiny smile. "There's.. there's worse things than homework. Like—I don't know—losing ekleksiti or whatever you call it.. or unintentionally fumbling with the Quaffle and messing up your team's goal.."

"You mean the football?"

"Yeah.." Whatever that was.

She giggled, turning to smile at him. "You're funny."

There was something about her tone of voice—along with the overall aura that she carried—that awfully reminded Cedric of summer days playing Quidditch outside with his family and warm wind in his face and lying in the grass seeing the clouds drifting above him.

It was that feeling that made it easy for Cedric to forget almost immediately about his illogical fear of exposing the magical world. It was what had him smiling back at her, round face just as bright and filled with the kind of mirthful innocence only children would have.

—

Cedric came back to the bakery the next day. And the day after that. And the day after that. Both the little girl—who he learned was named [Y/N]—and her kind, albeit slightly cranky old grandmother, grew fond of him. The latter would make sure to bake him his favorite custard tarts, and [Y/N] would sit with him by the front steps of the bakery, talking about every tiny thing their brains came up with.

"Have you got a favorite movie?" [Y/N] asked him one day.

"A favorite what?"

"A movie. Don't tell me you've never seen one!"

Cedric scratched the back of his neck, abashed. "I don't think so. Is that a Mu—I mean, what is it?"

Looking utterly astounded, [Y/N] began to ramble on about moving pictures and fairytales and stories.

"I've seen moving pictures—but you're telling me they don't talk to you?" quizzed Cedric dubiously.

Frowning, she nodded. "The pictures talk to each other. Sort of. Although it would be cool if they talked to us, don't you think?"

Still trying to wrap his head around the concept of images that don't talk to you but talk to other images whilst following a story of sorts, Cedric rubbed his forehead. "This is giving me a headache."

[Y/N] giggled, shoving the last of her custard tart into her mouth. "Let's go see one one day! A movie, I mean. It'll be fun!"

Prying his palm away from his face, Cedric nodded and couldn't help but grin right back at her. The excited gleam in her eyes shone with the promise of more than just one day seeing a movie; it glowed with the promise of a friendship that would last for a long, long time. That gleam of promise was reflected in Cedric's own gaze, and rest assured it would stay there in the rest of the years to come.

—

Three years seemed to pass by in a blur of endless chatter, ridiculous inside-jokes, and shared pastries out by the bakery's front steps. The pair grew and their friendship did so along with them. Cedric learned to grow cautious about what he had come to call his "magical secret", although he suspected that [Y/N] had started to grow skeptical along the way despite her never bringing it up.

When his letter from Hogwarts arrived, Cedric knew that he had to tell [Y/N]—that, or make up some excuse. Or perhaps invent something akin to the truth, but not quite.

And so it went like this: "My parents are sending me to school."

[Y/N]'s eyes widened. They were sitting in their usual spot out by the bakery's stone steps, identical biscuits in their hands. Out of nowhere, she smacked Cedric's shoulder; he turned to face her, clutching the spot where she'd hit him. "What was that for?" asked Cedric, eyes as wide as hers.

She smacked him again, bouncing with the excitement of a five-year-old child waking up on Christmas day. "That's great!" she squealed, stuffing her biscuit in her mouth and chewing frantically. "I can introduce you to all my friends and we'll get to see each other everyday and not just on the weekends!"

Cedric's heart sank. "Um.."

"And we can do homework together and I won't have to walk back home alone and—"

"[Y/N], I'm not going to your school."

She paused. Her face fell and drooped into a frown so disappointed that Cedric had to tear his gaze away. "What—where are you going, then?"

He scratched the back of his neck, lips pressed together in a weak grimace. "Somewhere far."

[Y/N]'s brows were furrowed. "Where?"

"I don't know. Somewhere in Scotland, I think. I'll be back home for the summer, though."

Her shoulders had slumped, and so had Cedric's. The disappointment was evident in the sulky lines of her face and it was making Cedric feel all sorts of things he normally wouldn't feel around her; incredibly downcast being one of them. He'd known this day was coming one day or another, and so would the day he'd have to leave and not see her for several months—the day that loomed only a week from then.

"When are you leaving?" asked [Y/N], gaze fixed on the pavement, a pout on her tiny face.

"Next week," replied Cedric.

He couldn't bear it. He poked her side, which immediately led to her jumping up and frowning at him. (He'd discovered over time that it was a big tickle spot of hers.) Once he'd gathered her attention, he said in a quiet voice, "I've got a secret. Do you want to hear it?"

Still looking somewhat sullen, she nodded. [Y/N] would never pass up a chance to discover some big, mysterious secret, no matter her mood.

And just because he wanted to cheer her up, along with the fact that he knew he couldn't keep this from her—his best friend of three years who knew everything about him from his favorite pair of socks to his biggest fears—he leaned in, eyes wide, and whispered in a hushed tone, "I'm going to a school for wizards."

She drew back, brows pulled in together in the middle in pure incredulity as said, "You're joking."

"No," said Cedric, grinning. And then, in that same hushed voice, "You have to promise me you won't tell anyone, okay?"

Still looking utterly bewildered, [Y/N] nodded slowly, gaze locked with his.

"I can show you magic, if you like."

At this, her eyes grew wide and a moment later she was nodding excitedly. "Where? When? How?"

"Right now!" replied Cedric, relieved at the smile that split her face and replaced the disappointed frown from before. "Wait here, okay? I'll be back!" And then he sprang to his feet and dashed off.

Cedric was true to his word; he came back half an hour later bearing a mysterious purple package in his hands. [Y/N] was still sitting patiently where he'd left, and she looked up at him calling her name.

"What is that?" she asked, hands reaching out for the box, which Cedric handed to her. Turning it over in her hands, she saw the words "Chocolate Frog" written across the paper lid in shiny golden letters.

"Open it!" Cedric urged, sitting down next to her.

And so she did. Carefully opening the lid of the octagon-shaped box, she let out a loud shriek as a chocolate-colored pair of squirming frog legs poked out from behind it. Out of surprise, the package fell from her hands and onto the pavement, but Cedric's instincts were quick; he hurriedly hopped off the steps to grab the package, hands firmly clamped around it as he brought it back to her with a wide smile on his snickering face.

"Guess you don't scare easy, huh?" he grinned, teasing. "It can get away if you don't hold onto it as soon as you open the package. See, watch."

Heart still beating rapidly, she leaned over with wide eyes and a curious gaze, watching as Cedric carefully opened the lid. He caught something that, sure enough, looked like chocolate—but it was moving in his clasped fist.

"A chocolate frog," said [Y/N], eyes the size of golf-balls.

"Yep," said Cedric, bringing the still struggling treat to his lips and taking a huge chunk out of it. "Don't worry—it's not an actual frog. Just shaped to look like it."

Gobsmacked, [Y/N] stared as he handed her the bottom half of the chocolate frog, the legs of which was still squirming. "That's—woah," excitement bubbling in the pit of her stomach at having witnessed actual magic (albeit in the form of the so-called chocolate frog), she brought it to her mouth, where it instantly stopped moving and dissolved into a creamy mess of delicious chocolate.

Eyes glinting with the same elation that was in hers, Cedric sat down next to her and pulled a card out of the box. He handed it to her.

[Y/N] stared down at the small card in the palm of her hands. "Woah," she said again, voice a stunned whisper. Imprinted on the card was a photo of an old man whose beard stretched all the way down to his waist. He was wearing sparkling magenta robes and looking straight at her, a gentle twinkle in his wizened, old eyes. An odd name was emblazoned under his picture—"Albus Dumbledore"—but then he reached up to adjust the spectacles on the bridge of his nose, and [Y/N] let out another surprised gasp. "He moved!"

Cedric was grinning. "Magic, I told you!"

Exhilarated, [Y/N] looked back down at the card in her hands. The old man—Dumbledore—winked at her through his half-moon spectacles. "Is he—" she swallowed, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart, "Is he a wizard?"

Cedric nodded, beaming. "And so am I."

For a few seconds, [Y/N] could do no more than open and close her mouth in pure shock. All of this was a lot to take in—but perhaps her being of the mere age eleven helped, because while the ordinary Muggle adult would have downright refused to believe it, an imaginative young girl like her who had yet to discover the world took the news kindly.

"I'd show you more magic," Cedric said bashfully, "But I don't really know how to yet. That's why I'm going to Hogwarts—the school I was talking about, you know—so I can learn how to use magic. Spells and potions and all of that stuff."

At this, [Y/N]'s lips once more drooped with the threat of yet another painful frown, but she picked it back up with a small smile. "Here," she swiveled around to face him on the steps, knees knocking with his. Holding her pinky finger up between them, she said, "You promise me you'll write, okay? And you have to tell me about all the stuff that you learn there and all the other wizards and witches you meet—there are witches, right?"

Cedric nodded, lips pressed together in a tiny smile as he laced his pinky finger through hers. "I promise. Expect there'll be owls knocking on your window every week or so."

Her eyes widened once more. "Owls?"

He grinned. "We use owls to send letters and stuff around."

"Oh. Neat."

They broke out into a fit of giggles. "Okay," said Cedric, pulling his pinky finger away. "But you have to promise me you'll keep it a secret."

[Y/N] nodded earnestly, a look of the utmost seriousness crossing over his face as she pressed her palm to her chest like she was swearing an oath. "I'll take it to the grave with me, Ced," she said, eyes sparkling. "Trust me."

—

And trust her he has done, for the past few years of his life. Cedric would leave on the first of September every year, but not before bidding her farewell and promising to write at least once a week. To make up for the time they've lost, he would spend almost every day of the summer and winter break with her. His parents understand; he has long since told them about the Muggle girl at the bakery who his heart has grown close to. And perhaps it is his parents who first notice when the friendship that he has with her begins to blossom into something else. Something more.

"Out to meet with your friend already?" asks his father upon catching Cedric already on his way out of the front door. It's his first day back home from his fifth year at Hogwarts, and he has barely even finished unpacking his bags.

Cedric grins. He is a young man of age sixteen now, no longer the tiny eight-year-old boy he once was when he first met [Y/N] all those years ago. And yet despite all that has changed—despite his broader stature and the fact that he now towers over his father—he is still the same compassionate boy he has always been; the one who has always had a love for pastries and a certain girl at the bakery, although he doesn't quite know it yet.

"She's waiting for me," says Cedric, oddly exhilarated. His heart beating with the anticipation of seeing her for the first time in several months, he waves a brief goodbye to his father and dashes down the hill leading to the Muggle village of Ottery St. Catchpole.

He goes down the same path he always has; past the small patch of trees at the foot of the hill, through the town square, and finally, in front of the bakery. The door is propped open as though it has been waiting for him to enter, and voices waft out onto the street from the inside.

A smile already having found its way onto his face, Cedric takes the front stone steps two at a time before stepping inside.

"Be careful, grandma—oh, no—no, let me do it."

"It's fine, I can—Cedric, dear boy, you're back!"

A tray of freshly-baked cookies are set aside on the counter before a familiar elderly Muggle woman rushes at him and envelops him in a hug, mitten-covered hands wrapping themselves around his middle—the farthest she can reach him at his tall height and her own short legs. Cedric meets [Y/N]'s gaze over her grandmother's shoulder; she is leaning on the counter, lips pressed together in a barely-suppressed smile as her eyes shine with the kind of light that reminds Cedric of everything good in the world.

It takes a while for [Y/N]'s grandmother to stop fussing over him. When she does, she disappears behind the kitchen with the promise of coming out with a fresh batch of his favorite custard tarts.

And then he and [Y/N] are left alone in the bakery, where Cedric wastes no time and hugs her as close to him as he can. He wants to tell her that he'd missed her—terribly so—but he knows that she knows, and so he just holds her to him and hopes that the words come across alright.

A moment later the two of them are outside of the bakery, sitting on the same stone steps they've perched themselves on so many times before.

"So let me get this straight: you intentionally didn't write about the fact that there was a mass murderer inside your school because you didn't want me to worry?"

"Well, the matter was taken care of—"

"And there were soul-sucking demendoids or whatever you call them roaming the castle and you didn't mention it to me in your letters because you—"

"I didn't want you to worry, yes."

[Y/N] stares at him, deadpan. "And I suppose if you suffer a horrible death you won't care to write to me either because you don't want me worrying."

"Well, if I were dead, I'd hardly be able to write to y—"

"Oh, you get my point!" says [Y/N], rolling her eyes, but she's laughing as she shoves him lightly on the shoulder. Sighing dramatically, she shakes her head. "You learn a few magic tricks and suddenly you cut me out of your life."

Cedric scoffs, but his annoyance is only about as convincing as [Y/N]'s, as he has a smile of his own on his face. "I leave a few details out of my letter and suddenly you want to end our friendship."

"I don't want to end it," protests [Y/N]. "I just don't want you keeping out the bad stuff from your letters just because you don't want me to worry. If anything, I want to hear more about the negatives than the positives so I'll know that I'm not the only one having a hard time."

Cedric raises his brows, the smile on his face drooping as he angles his head to look at her face from where she's leaning on his shoulder. "Why? Tough time at school?"

She shrugs, shifting a little. "Kind of. It's ridiculous, actually. My best friend—well, second-best, since you're first—thinks that her boyfriend," she makes a face, "likes me. She didn't talk to me at all during the last few months of school and I highly expect she'll still be an arse about it when we come back after summer. Rubbish, really." Cedric has fallen silent. When she looks up at him, she finds that there is a frown on his face, so immediately she reassures him by saying, "You don't have to worry, Ced. I've got other friends. Better friends—wizard friends. Or friend. Just the one."

Cedric raises his eyebrows at her. His mood has dampened a little; it shows in the disappearance of the crinkled smile lines around his eyes and the way his lips have tugged down.

"Oh, come on," says [Y/N], sitting up straight. "Don't look so bummed. I've told you it's not a big deal."

He looks away, and then, quietly, "I just don't like the idea of you having a hard time."

A grin slowly stretches across her face. A moment later, she starts laughing. "Always so caring, aren't you?" she teases, reaching out to poke his cheek.

Cedric rolls his eyes, clutching her hand and prying it away from his face. "Whatever," he mutters, making a face at her. She giggles and does one right back, and just like that, they're laughing again.

It's incredibly easy for the innocent, youthful part of Cedric to come to the surface during times like these, when he sits down in front of the bakery with his best friend at his side as they return to their naive, childish shelves and bond over everything and nothing with all sorts of pastries clutched in their chubby hands. Cedric finds that, no matter how much time has passed, [Y/N] still feels the same: warm and comforting and reminiscent of home.

—

Time passes as it has always done, and sooner than both Cedric and [Y/N] would have liked, the day of September comes looming above them a mere week away.

They are on one of the many hills surrounding the village of Ottery St. Catchpole—their favorite one, actually; the one that has a perfect view of the village if they sit at the very top, which is what they are doing. The night sky looms above them as they do as they have always done: talk. And whenever they lapse into silence, they bask in the comfort they have always found in one another.

At present, they are laying on their backs on the grass. Usually, they'd be pointing out random shapes they each notice in the clouds, but it is nighttime and only wisps of smoke from the village chimneys drift across the dark blue canvas. There are only a few stars visible through the pollution hanging in the air; "I could count them all on one hand," says [Y/N], arm stretched upwards as though reaching for the sky. "Bit sad, really. I remember when we were kids there were still a lot of them. Sort of."

Cedric, with his gaze similarly glued to the stretch of sky above them, lets out an exhale. "We can see the stars at Hogwarts," he tells her quietly like they're sharing a secret, which, in a way, they are. "We don't even have to go to the Astronomy Tower to see them—when we look up, they're right there. Right above us. It's.."

He trails off.

"Ethereal?" [Y/N] suggests, tone hushed.

Cedric nods. "I wish I could take you to see them, but. You know."

"I'm a—what was it you guys called us lame, non-magical folks again?" she rolls onto her side to face him, arm tucked underneath her head as her eyes narrowed playfully.

"A Muggle," Cedric says, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. "And that doesn't make you lame. It just makes you.."

"Non-magical," she snorts.

"Doesn't matter," mumbles Cedric, shifting to turn on his side as well. "You've got a different kind of magic." And his tone is teasing, but there's a hint of underlying emotion hidden beneath that he wonders if [Y/N] picks up on.

"And what's that?" [Y/N] asks, feigning a haughty look. "Is it my—let's see—supernatural charms? Or my mystical beauty?"

Cedric laughs. "Something like that."

Facing her, mere centimeters away, Cedric sees that moonshine is dancing across the skin of her face; he sees the very stars they were speaking of gleaming in her eyes, and all of a sudden the atmosphere changes and he can't quite breathe properly.

The look on his face doesn't go amiss. The playful smile on [Y/N]'s face falls and reveals underneath it something more—something that has Cedric's heart beating wildly in his throat and his lungs seizing up in his chest.

Ethereal, Cedric thinks to himself as his gaze locks with hers and he finds himself drowning in the sea of constellations inside her irises. The stars at Hogwarts hold no competition to those which he sees in that moment in [Y/N]'s eyes. He wonders if they have always been there, waiting to be noticed, or if they have only just surfaced now.

And then Cedric finds himself leaning in and somewhere in the middle, she meets his lips with her own.

They pause for a moment, as though giving each other time to pull away if they want to, but neither of them do. And he really can't quite tell who moves first—him or [Y/N]—but they let each other's lips begin to whisper over one another's in gentle, slow carresses. They string up, unhurried and soft, one kiss flowing into the next with endless patience and want, and [Y/N]'s lips are inviting and alive and Cedric almost doesn't want to pull away, but he has to, eventually, and so he draws back, eyes blinking open.

He wonders, for a moment, despite the fact that she'd kissed back, if he had gone too far. If he had crossed the line that had always rested between them that made the difference between friendship and.. whatever this was.

But then familiar crinkles appear around [Y/N]'s eyes as she smiles at him. "I believe I've discovered my magic."

Cedric takes a brief moment to respond. Letting out a quiet exhale, he keeps his gaze fixed on hers as he furrows his eyebrows a little and asks with a tiny smile of his own, "What's that?"

She grins and jokes in a hushed, almost theatrical tone, "Seduction."

Cedric's face relaxes into a proper smile and he leans forward, pressing his mouth against [Y/N]'s for the second time. He feels the happy curve of her lips and feels his own curving up in response until they aren't really kissing anymore; just smiling against each other's mouths.

Ethereal, Cedric thinks to himself again, not for the first time that day. Absolutely bloody magical.

—

The muggle village of Ottery St. Catchpole was a fascinating place, but perhaps the reason why Cedric thought so was not because of the buildings and the bustling streets themselves, but because of the little bakery owned by a Muggle grandma and a girl whose heart Cedric knew even better than his own.

When the first of September comes around and brings with it the inevitable need to say goodbye, a pair of friends bound together by the passing of time sit on the front steps of the Old Corner Bakery, joking and talking and making promises to write. [Y/N]'s grandmother has insisted on Cedric bringing along snacks in case he gets hungry during the train ride, hence the paper bag full of custard tarts he clutches in his hands.

"I think she loves you more than I do," says [Y/N], watching her grandmother disappear back into the bakery, weeping.

Cedric laughs. "Tell me something I don't know."

And then suddenly it is time to say their farewells, and Cedric is hugging her goodbye but it doesn't feel like enough, so he pulls away, places his hand on the back of her head, and presses a kiss to her forehead. He would press their lips together but he knows that will make it harder to say goodbye, so for now, he settles for this.

"You promise me you won't leave the bad stuff out of your letters, okay?"

"You can count on me."

So Cedric waves goodbye to her with the same gleam of promise from all those years ago sparkling in his eyes like stars that have yet to die out. He can't promise to stay, but he can promise that he will come back—and he will. He always will.

a/n: whether or not cedric comes back to ottery st. catchpole next year is entirely up to you (cough triwizard tournament cough)

#harry potter #harry potter oneshot #harry potter oneshots #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #cedric diggory oneshots #cedric diggory oneshot #cedric diggory imagine #cedric diggory imagines #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory

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roublardise · 2 years

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DAY 4 - Sapphicnatural reading week

i'm starting to lose count of what i wanted to read/what i now want to read/what has everyone read... thanks god for my original post 😂 i'm also reaching the busy part of the week. keeping the longest fic for later may not have been the smartest move on my part

in any case, my goal for today is to read:

Wolf Like Me - schmevil rated T - 4k - Bela/Meg

i LOVE Bela/Meg, I was so happy to make an amv for them. it was truly my wlw ship from 2014 they have a special spot in my heart.

so ofc as soon as i've seen this fic i wanted to read it! even with the very small mysterious summary. and after @lesbianjoannaharvelle's comments on it, i'm even more excited! smth quite dark then, with Bela becoming a demon.... can't wait 👀

#sapphicnatural #spn #spn fic #sapphicnatural reading week #as i've quickly mentioned i won't be home at all this week-end i hope i'll still manage to finish this week #as in i hope i won't be too tired by the end of the day!! and that tumblr mobile will let me make my post like i want them

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tokyoghoose · 4 years

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something that never was

pairing: daisuke kambe x reader

playlist: even if it's a lie - matt maltese*, a soulmate who wasn't meant to be - jessica benko, the less i know the better - tame impala, id rather go blind - beyonce ( cadillac records ), the house we never built - gabrielle aplin*, i cant make you love me - dave thomas junior, i go crazy - orla gartland, blow my brains out - tikkle me, hidden in the sand - tally hall

warnings: angst, mentions of cheating,

summary: the coldness he radiates gets the best of you, ultimately leading to the end.

announcements!

i dont really see daisuke cheating unless it was a misunderstanding or smth, but i liked the idea of this fic. Let me know what you think!

you can tell i didnt write this in a sitting lol. Im vv sorry if it's hard to follow!

feedback is welcome and appreciated! requests are open!

There's a warm body beside you, yet the bed feels cold. The arm around your waist feels almost as foreign as the face in front of you. It hurts to look at him, to feel him. It hurts to even be around him. He's so beautiful but he feels like half the man he once was. It's disheartening.

Maybe the saying, what you don't know can't hurt you is correct because you were feeling the repercussions right about now. Curiosity really did kill the cat, and at this point, you don't even know how to get satisfaction from it. How does one bring up cheating to their partner? Especially when the partner is like Daisuke.

He likes to brush things off without paying a price except for whatever was in his bank account, the type to hand you a card and say 'go get yourself something pretty.' And it wasn't like he was a bad lover, in fact, it was very easy to fall in love with him. He has a charm about him that's magnetic, one glance and suddenly it's impossible to look away. Or at least that was your experience.

With the final confirmation that closing your eyes will do nothing other than bringing pictures into your head, you turn your back to him and try and distance your body from his. It doesn't do anything to help when he pulls you closer subconsciously, except for maybe it makes you want to cry.

You'd confront him tomorrow, you decided.

If you need to.

———

The pace you set is leisure and if kt wasn't for the poor nail bed quickly coming to nothing, it'd seem like you weren't completely losing your head. It's all you can think about. Daisuke out with some girl—who you know for a fact isn't his sister, and who is all over him. He didn't even make a move to push her off! He hates that kind of attention so if he didn't object it, then he was asking for it. He wanted the girl on his side. In fact, for someone who insists the other person sits across from him at a restaurant- he looked quite comfortable with her nearly in his lap.

Maybe you're overthinking this, y/n.

The door clicks open and your ears strain to hear the sound of Daisuke's dress shoes. He's rather indulgent when it comes to dressing wear and the shoes were practically silent, even with the short heel on the back.

"I'm home." He says to no one particular, taking off his trenchcoat and hanging it on the rack beside the door. He stops his path to the bedroom when he sees you frozen in place and staring in the living room. He merely quirks a brow, going to take off his suit and tie.

Suddenly you can't speak and you have tunnel vision. It's unfair how calm he always looks—it's almost smug like he knows everything about you and more. Like he can read your mind and tell you your darkest thoughts and when you'll die because let's be honest, it'll probably be by his hand. Maybe you should back out now before you can say anything. Forget it all because what if you're mistaken? The more you think, the more weight is added onto your shoulders and the more it pushes you down, down further into the hole you want to crawl into. Maybe you should let it because all you want to do now is escape his piercing gaze. His eyes are studying you, taking in your form and the cogs in his brain are turning to find an explanation as to why you are standing there like a psychopath and not welcoming him home like you usually do.

You feel like you're drowning. Is the light getting dimmer? The black around your vision only seems to close in around Daisuke and you try to look anywhere else but his face. There's water in your ears, the popping of them only intensifies until you can feel it pounding into your head with faint static.

Am I going to pass out?

It's not until his hand comes down gently on your shoulder that the closing circle of vision widens out and suddenly all the imaginary water rushes from your ears. You glance down at his rings before back up him, barely catching the end of his words.

"Are you alright?"

He's never been one to beg, so you would have to answer now or he'll leave it be for the rest of the night and probably months after until you're like this again.

"I-can we talk?"

He eyes you suspiciously, narrowing his eyes and keeping his brow raised before nodding, slipping his tie off around his neck, folding it neatly into the palm of his hand. He gestures for you to start the conversation, going to the minibar curving around the kitchen and living area.

When you don't reply he urges you on, "Why so tense? Did something happen, darling?"

It'd seem like he didn't really care from how cold his voice was, but you've grown accustomed to the monotone to know that he truly is concerned for your health. He genuinely wants to know why you're acting so odd. It only makes this so much harder? You're wrong- you have to be. This must be a sick trick your brain has played on you. Or he must be playing some sick trick.

Anxiety settles itself into your gut and it seems like it won't leave anytime soon.

"Daisuke, are...- are you cheating on me?"

His eyebrows finally go lax but he doesn't look up from unbuttoning the cuffs of his white button-down. His fingers fidget at the buttons and instead of the previous loose form, his hand forms a fist.

"I- "

"Why—exactly, are you accusing me of this?"

His gaze sends chills down your spine. He's offended but he doesn't offer a defense. Suddenly your mouth is dry and you lose all your words? How exactly were you going to tell him you stumbled across him and some woman in a restaurant and practically stared them down for fifteen minutes.

You decide the bear it and swallow a lump that has formed in your throat.

"You were with a woman earlier this week snd well, the displays of affection that I saw were not very like you. You've been gone for long hours and even if you blamed it on the new job, Daisuke—you never tell me anything. Is she for a case? Are you using her for information? Go on, tell me about it. Give me a reason not to accuse you."

You regain your confidence but it falters when you meet his indifferent expression. You'd prefer it if he looked angry and the silence that fills the room is deafening and the tension suffocating.

"I can't tell you anything about our cases-"

"I'm your partner! What am I going to do? Rat you out to whoever is breaking the law? Why would I even how those connections, Daisuke?"

Daisuke inhales deeply through his nose like this whole conversation is a burden on him and you can't help but feel like a burden too. Was this relationship not worth the time to talk this out? One hand grips the bar and the other pinches the bridge of his nose.

"You aren't my partner, you're my fiance. My partner and I work together. So, no. I can't tell you about the cases."

You want to rip out your hair. This isn't about his stupid job or his stupid partner. This is about the dumb fucking restaurant and the dumb fucking woman who was hanging off him.

He can't actually be this dense!

"It's not about that! Either you aren't getting the point or you keep changing the subject because it's true!" Your voice rises in pitch, your confidence failing and turning more so into desperation. But you aren't crying yet. There are no tears and your eyes are dry and you absolutely refuse to cry in front of a Kambe.

It's like the beginning of your relationship all over again. A protective barrier around yourself so you don't get hurt and offended by his cold shoulder. Was it so bad to think you've moved on from that feeling? Why is it so difficult for him to just comfort you and push back those fears? Is he that emotionally stunted? You may not know much about his past and his family, but damn— at least you're trying to work through it with him. Can he put out a little more effort?

All he does is pour himself a glass. All he does... is pour himself a glass.

"You know what- forget it. If you're so entitled and so emotionally reserved that you can't even talk to me without a drink first, then I guess we'll talk about it another time—when you don't look like my voice gives you a headache."

Daisuke actually looks taken back by your words and you suddenly feel bad for hitting a sore spot. He may not have shown it often, but he doesn't particularly like not being able to show his true emotions; no matter the reason being.

"Y/N, wait.."

But you're back on adrenaline just as soon as he felt a drop, pushing past him to get to your coat. You just needed to calm down before you said something you'd truly regret. Words tended to stay in his mind much longer than they were intended to.

"I'm staying at my mother's. Don't call me, don't text me, don't come near me until you're ready to tell me what the hell you were doing with her. "

When he doesn't say anything more and you can practically hear the cogs in his head turn, you make your way out there door, making sure to slam it shut.

You slip on the coat angrily, slamming open the door without sparing him a glance but waiting for him to say something. Anything. Were you being too rash? You shake your head and scold yourself, mentally. You can't just turn around now, not after an outburst like that. He has to learn something from this.

Irrational or not, hopefully, his true colors would show.

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