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saetoru · 9 months

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。the dictionary definition of a rich boy

synopsis. that rich guy who won’t stop asking you out is your partner for this project—send help

contents. pre dating rich boy! gojo, college! au, implications of a zenin being pushy on the first date, satoru being distraught you went on a date lol, pre relationship shenanigans with the cutest loser boy !!

word count. 3.8k (it’s literally all just him being a handful)

notes. thank you niku my most cherished gojo stan for comming this (and giving me the most ridiculous tip) i adore you so much :,) mwah 💋

he’s late—gojo is late. in fact, he’s very late, by forty-five minutes and thirty-two seconds to be exact. you aren’t really the count-by-the-second type of person, but somehow when it comes to that irritating, smug, too-talkative brat that you’re stuck with…well, you can’t help but be petty and use the seconds against him too.

he shows up close to an hour after your agreed time, waltzing in with a grin on his face—and, oh, you should kill him. he has the audacity to send you a wink when he walks over, coming up to your table and pushing his sunglasses down his nose just a bit to look you in the eyes over the lenses.

what kind of person wears sunglasses indoors? surely only the kind that are nothing but trouble.

“aw, you’re here already,” gojo hums, “that excited to see me?”

“you’re late,” you spit.

“am i? i could have sworn—”

“now it’ll get dark by the time we get through what we planned for today,” you glare. he looks enthused, positively delighted by the statement—it’s almost as if you’ve offered him candy.

“well, then i’ll just have to walk you to your apartment,” he offers smoothly.

what a jackass. of course, just as expected, he’s still attempting to worm his way into your personal life (and likely your pants) in the most obnoxious of ways. over your dead body, however, will you ever allow him to know where you live, let alone accompany you on the way. you value your sanity, and having a conversation with gojo satoru longer than you absolutely have to seems like the most efficient way to fry every nerve and brain cell you have left.

“absolutely not,” you grit, “you can call me an uber. you pay.”

“alright,” he nods, “i’ll get an uber for you. but i’ll need your number to make sure you made it home safe. otherwise, what kind of partner would i be?”

typically, any normal pair of partners are meant to exchange numbers for a project—it would be the easiest form of communication, and more importantly, you can spam call if gojo decides not to carry his weight instead of just hoping and praying he checks his socials. but you can’t let him have your number—he’s not trustworthy enough for that. the last thing you need is him bombarding you with texts, or worse: calls, in the middle of work and class. so instead, you strictly inform him that any and all communication will occur via social media.

he pouts at that—it’s a cute pout, you have to admit. it’s slightly dangerous, too, because had you not had the self-control you do, you might have caved. but then he lights up at the prospect of you adding him back on socials.

i’ll get your number one of these days, he says confidently. his confidence is as aggravating as the way he clicks his pen in the middle of class. he still chooses to sit right beside you despite all the free and very available seats the entirety of the lecture hall has.

but no, he insists on sitting right next to you—and you? well, you have to hope you don’t get charged with homicide by the end of every class from the constant clicking he makes you endure. despite all that, gojo is surprisingly smart, which means your project might not be so doomed.

he’s annoyingly smart, actually—he never takes notes, and just when you think the professor has him cornered by asking him a question when he’s seemingly dozing off, he answers immediately with the correct answer.

you hate him.

“absolutely not happening,” you grumble, opening your laptop, “anyway i think we should start with—”

“well, i hate to inform you,” he sighs sadly as if it genuinely pains him to say this, “but i’ve actually deleted all my socials.”

“what?” your eye twitches.

“yeah,” he nods, “it’s a bit of a cleanse if you will. staring at your screen all day and finding value in fake posts is not good for mental health, you know? i’m trying to be more in tune with myself. it’s been a real self-journey.”

before the end of this project, you might either be a college dropout or an inmate at the county jail. you’re not sure, either is equally as possible.

“gojo satoru, i am sick of your games,” you spit, “we both know—”

“and i would hate not being in touch with my partner since it’s a crucial part of this project for us to work together,” he hums, something of a smug look plastered on his aggravatingly gorgeous face, “that thirty percent deduction for ineffective partner communication would be such a shame to get when we’re working so hard already on this, wouldn’t you agree?”

is he threatening you? for your number? with your grade? he is, you realize—and you clench your fist tightly around the phone in your hands as he eyes it with a knowing look on his face. he has you right where he wants you, whether you like it or not.

“you’re an asshole,” you spit.

“i’m a mental health advocate,” he gasps—he has the nerve to act offended, even as he’s so obviously enjoying working you up like this. you wish he’d drop dead immediately. maybe you could take his card from his wallet as his cold body lays lifeless on the table and order yourself a new laptop if he did—that would be ideal.

“i saw you post on your story last night—”

“you didn’t watch it,” he pouts, “i posted a shirtless gym selfie just for you—wait a second, you pay attention to my story, huh?” he cuts himself off with a smirk, wiggling his eyebrows at you, “c’mon, you don’t have to force yourself to skip them. you know you wanna watch them.”

“no, i don’t,” you seethe, “it was just the first one at the top. stop being self-important—”

“anyway,” he drawls, eyeing your phone again. you want to splash your coffee in his face. “i’ll need your number,” he sniffs, “the crushing disappointment of you skipping my story made me realize i’m too focused on getting social media validation, so i’m taking a break. it’s the best thing for me to do in my headspace right now. hope you understand.”

“are you kidding me?” you stare at him. he grins before shaking his head.

“i would never joke about mental health,” he says seriously—it’s not as serious as your desire to slap him, however.

“fine,” you take a long, slow sip of your coffee to calm down, “give me your phone.”

“oh, you’re gonna set your own contact?” he brightens, immediately handing you his phone. it’s brand new—the newest model, in fact. it’s barely been a few days since it dropped. truthfully, you’re not even sure why you’re shocked—of course, he, of all people, would upgrade immediately. “how intimate,” he gushes, “it’s almost like we’re going on a date—”

“do not text me outside of project purposes,” you interrupt, thrusting the phone back into his hands, “got it?”

“you got it,” he grins triumphantly.

—————

like all things he does, gojo finds a roundabout way to keep his word without actually keeping it. it’s his secret talent, you think—finding loopholes through all the technicalities of things.

hey when ur free can u read over my portion? i just finished

btw r u going to that frat party this wknd? u don’t seem the party type haha but u should come

i’ll introduce u to suguru! he’s my best friend he’s super nice u’ll like him

oh and when do u wanna meet this week? promise i’ll be on time this time ;)

you make sure to only respond to the questions regarding your project—just because he technically kept his word and started the conversation centered around the project before getting off topic doesn’t mean you have to indulge him. and the way he types is infuriatingly annoying—who shortens every possible word like that? only him, you think.

okay, maybe you’re just nitpicking now, but every time you see his name pop up on your screen, your mood sours tenfold. you decide to answer as dryly as possible.

k i’ll look. we meet same time as last.

the period at the end should add the perfect touch—you grin to yourself in pride at that one. instantly, bubbles pop up and indicate he’s typing again. your smile very quickly drops.

wow ur a rly dry texter aren’t u?

that’s ok i don’t judge

so how bout the party?

i can be ur escort ;)

it’ll be fun!

from his side of the screen, gojo watches as your contact shows notifications silenced at the bottom. he pouts to himself—no party, then, he thinks.

—————

gojo satoru, the guy who seemingly has everything he could ever want, likes you.

frankly, he’s not really sure why—at first, he finds you mildly amusing, and he thinks it’d be fun to have a short fling with you perhaps. somewhere along the line, however, that changes. he watches you dedicatedly take notes in class, no matter how tired you seem from work the night before. he notices the way you chew on your bottom lip when you’re really focused—it’s actually very cute, he thinks. and he’s entertained by the way you always have some smart little retort waiting on your tongue. you’re not boring—and more than anything, you leave him a little humbled. it’s refreshing, and he kind of likes it, if he’s being completely honest.

he’s never liked anyone before—it’s a weird feeling. at best, he’s had a crush where he could appreciate that someone is generally pleasing to the eye and has a personality that might mesh well with his, but he’s never yearned for someone before.

it just so happens to be his luck that the same person he wants more than anything in the entire world (for the first time ever, too) seems to hate his guts. it also happens to be that the same person he wants more than anything is currently getting asked out by some kid from the zenin family. right in front of him. and you’re saying yes.

why on earth would you say yes to a zenin of all people? don’t you value yourself?

gojo can admit that he’s had his fair share of heart robbing and tear inducing moments—he’s not exactly someone with the best track record for commitment, but at least he doesn’t use people for his own benefit. plus, he does, in fact, actually plan on committing to you. that zenin boy most certainly can’t be any good news if he’s anything like naoya, who gojo has met on a multitude of occasions, and knows very well is a scoundrel of a guy.

“see you at nine?” he hears the zenin (what was his name again?) ask you. you nod, smiling sweetly.

why don’t you smile sweetly at him like that? he buys you coffee every week. sure, he only gets to buy you the coffee because you have no choice but to meet him for the project, but he even offers to get you a slice of cake—you don’t ever accept, though, so he ends up eating both. but you do like coffee, very strong coffee that’s probably not sweet enough for his liking, but you enjoy the coffee he buys you nonetheless, and that has to count for something.

“sure, see you at nine,” you hum.

gojo watches in absolute shock (and abject horror) as you look down shyly. as soon as the zenin boy walks away, he stomps up to you.

“hey, what gives?” he asks petulantly, making your face paint on that irritated look that it always seems to adopt when he’s in the vicinity—how rude.

“what do you mean?” you ask tiredly, “i don’t speak toddler, so please use your words—”

“why’d you say yes to that zenin boy—”

“he has a name. it’s—”

“who cares what his name is? he’s an asshole! he won’t treat you right even if his mother’s life is on the line—”

“oh, and you would?” you raise an eyebrow, glaring at him. how is it his place to tell you who’d treat you right and who wouldn’t? how is it his place to even care?

“i would,” he gasps at the accusation, “you’d date a zenin but not me? how come?”

“because you’re annoying,” you counter like it’s obvious.

okay, now that is technically fair—gojo has heard his fair share of you’re annoying’s from people in his life. in fact, a good amount of them come from his own mother, but he’s also dashingly handsome, very good in bed, has soft hair, is tall and muscular, can buy you whatever you like, and can be smart and funny too if you really don’t care for those kinds of things. he’s the entire package and more. and more importantly, he’s not from the zenin family, and that automatically means you’ll actually be treated with an ounce of respect.

he looks at you incredulously, feelings a little hurt. “that’s not true! name one annoying thing i’ve done—”

“you laughed in the middle of me speaking in class.”

“that wasn’t at you! suguru showed me something funny on his phone—”

“and you took like twenty minutes in line ordering the most sweetest drink on the menu while i was running late—”

“you can’t use that against me, that’s not fair! i’m a paying customer, i should be able to get whatever i want. plus, it’s technically not my fault you were late.”

“you rubbed in the fact that you had a black card.”

“you mentioned it first!”

“you were late to our first meeting for the project.”

“okay, that was an honest mistake! people are allowed to make those, you know—”

“i don’t want to go out with you,” you say frustratedly, “and it’s really annoying when you act like a spoiled brat that can’t handle the word no and keep on insisting, okay? so leave me alone unless it’s to discuss our project—which weighs fifty-five percent of our grade, by the way, so don’t even think about getting lazy.”

he is not lazy, he wants to argue.

but before he can, you roll your eyes and take a step to walk around him, leaving him there to blink in shock. okay, he thinks with a huff, so you’re playing hard to get. that’s no matter, he’s good at the chase anyway.

—————

the date doesn’t seem to have gone well. gojo can tell because your eyes are slightly red and puffy, and you’re extra grouchy today in class. your professor seems to have noticed, too, because instead of calling on you today, she calls on gojo extra as a rare show of mercy.

gojo doesn’t mind—this class is surprisingly easy, and he’s bored half the time anyway. he might as well indulge the uptight professor in an ugly brown pencil skirt and answer her pretentious questions that aren’t as complex as she thinks they are.

“so,” he finally breaks the silence, “how was your date—”

“if you’re looking for a chance to say i told you so, just get it over with, you jerk,” you grumble. he raises his eyebrows in surprise before both hands go up in surrender.

“i wasn’t,” he says genuinely, “you just…uh…you look upset, is all.”

you hesitate for a short second, gauging his sincerity for a moment before sighing and slumping on the desk, cheek resting on your arm. gojo resists the urge to poke the soft flesh—it’ll probably make you mad, and you’re already in a bad mood.

“he was…pushy,” you say quietly, “i don’t really believe in taking things far on the first date. he didn’t like that.” instantly, his fists clench tightly, eyeing you from the side carefully, almost in concern. “nothing happened,” you wave off, “but he did make me feel disgusting,” you mutter.

“yeah, well, he is a zenin,” he points out, “they’re…well, my family’s known them for a while. my mom hates them.”

you look over at him in mild interest, raising an eyebrow. “don’t tell me there’s drama in the rich community,” you gasp, “i thought you all just came as one to sip fancy wine and laugh at the poor together.”

he snorts, throwing you a toothy grin that you think for a moment is kind of cute—but that doesn’t mean he’s any different from the rest of the rich folks. someone of gojo satoru’s caliber has no business mixing with someone of yours—it’s common knowledge. gojo has everything he wants, and if he doesn’t, it’s a simple matter of asking before it’s his. there’s simply no way you can mold into his world to be what he needs you to be, and when the time inevitably comes when he realizes you’re not what he wants, well…you’d like to save yourself the wounded pride and crushed soul while you can.

“sometimes we have fancy appetizers too with the wine,” he jokes, “don’t forget those.”

“oh, my apologies,” you chuckle. gojo likes it when you laugh, he decides. it looks much better than when you’re glum—he thinks seeing your lips quirked in anything other than a smile is a waste of your perfect features, and he can’t have that.

“my mom married my old man in this stupid arranged marriage or something,” he explains casually, like it’s just the norm. you suppose it is—for the rich, at least. you wonder briefly if gojo will have a marriage planned for his future, too, and you wonder if he’s okay with that. surely it’ll be some wealthy and fancy socialite of a girl that fits his family’s standards. someone who’s not you—not that you care anyway, you wouldn’t marry him regardless. “my grandma wanted her to marry the zenin, but she said no. said he treated her like a piece of meat every time they met, so she settled for my dad instead. lucky her, 'cause now i’m her son,” he beams.

settled—something about the way he says it makes you think his parents must not really care for each other as a husband and wife should. it makes you think briefly about what his childhood might’ve been like, not watching his parents happy and in love the way they should be. but still, the way gojo talks about his mother is fond, with a gentle smile on his face as he recalls the things she’s told him. you can’t help but smile a little too.

“i think that makes you the lucky one,” you snort, “you’d still be her son. just that you’d be a zenin.”

he crinkles his nose at the thought, dramatically shivering and making you giggle. “gross,” he gags.

“well, now you have her to thank,” you hum, “your dad would’ve been…whoever the zenin she was supposed to marry is.”

“yeah, well, trust me,” he mumbles, his smile dropping ever so slightly, “my old man’s not that big of an upgrade from a zenin. even my grandfather’s sick of him. imagine being such a douche, your own dad can’t stand you.”

you’re learning more about gojo in one sitting than you ever imagined (or planned) to learn—part of that is because he seems like he’s the type to overshare on the first meet; the other part…well, you have to be honest with yourself, it’s not exactly a bad pastime hearing him talk about himself. gojo is an odd piece of work, and you can’t say you hate learning about the little pieces that come together to make him so weird.

okay, perhaps weird is a bit rude, you think—he’s…unique.

“oh, so you’re the dictionary definition of a rich boy, huh?” you hum, resting your cheek on your hand as you sit up and face him—gojo, for a quick moment, feels his heart stutter when you talk to him like that: with your undivided attention like he’s the only one in the room.

“what makes you say that?”

“daddy issues is like…the first thing in the rich boy starter pack.”

he laughs at that, smooth and almost sweet—it’s a dangerous thing. it’s easy to attract you to him, like a bee to honey, with the way his lips curl like that, showing off his dimples. but the bees can easily turn into maggots—and you don’t want to find yourself as a dead carcass by the end of this.

“i don’t have daddy issues,” he says smoothly, “that old man should sleep with both eyes open. if anything, he has son issues.”

“you’re hands down the oddest person i have ever met,” you mumble.

“what was that? did you say hottest? yeah, i know—”

“shut up, jackass,” you scowl, shoving his shoulder when he leans closer with a bat of his lashes. he laughs, and so do you—and just for one, quick, momentary instance, gojo satoru is not so bad. dangerous and a bad choice maybe, a setup for a big mistake perhaps, something you should stay away from, in fact.

but not so bad.

“how about i show you what it’s like to go on a date with a gojo,” he grins, winking easily. he’s persistent—very persistent, you note. “you might like it a lot more than a zenin.”

“no, thank you,” you hold a hand up, “never going to happen.”

“never say never,” he hums, “you might eat your words.”

—————

“hey, satoru?”

“that’s not my name.”

“that actually is your name,” you say tiredly.

“hmph,” satoru rolls over, dramatically tugging the blankets over his body as he shuffles away from you, “not to you, it’s not.”

you sigh, pursing your lips at his antics. “oh my god. okay—hey, toru?” you correct yourself. and just like that, he turns back around, grinning brightly as he inches closer until his head is resting on your chest.

“yes, baby?” he says sweetly, earning a roll of your eyes as your fingers weave into his hair. it’s soft—you don’t think you ever want to let go.

“it’s way better dating a gojo, by the way,” you murmur, “than a zenin.”

“oh yeah?” he grins smugly, arm draping over your body as he kisses your jaw, “i told you it would be, didn’t i?”

“i haven’t dated other rich families to compare, though,” you tease, “you might get replaced.”

“unlikely,” he chuckles, “no one,” there’s a kiss to your jaw, “will love you,” another kiss to your cheek, “like me.”

finally, there’s a slow, soft kiss to your lips—and when he kisses you like that, you have no choice but to believe him.

satoru sooooo sends multiple texts back to back he just like me for real

#teepods.writings #fics.#rich boy! au #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x you

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bleachification · 6 months

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⸻ JEALOUS, JEALOUS BOY

pairing: sanji x reader

word count: 5.7k

synopsis: life as a pirate is never boring, especially when your best friend is sanji—a flirtatious chef who can’t seem to sort out his feelings, or yours, for that matter. that makes things all the more complicated when you’re forced to go undercover and sanji is dragged along with you as your very fake husband. the million-dollar question is: when lines start blurring, how do you differentiate between what’s fake and what’s real?

+ + + + + + + + + + + + +

“We broke up.”

“How long? Two months?”

You shrug. “I stopped counting anniversaries after the first couple of failed ones.”

Sanji swings his knife a tad too forcefully. The loud THUD of it smashing into the cutting board causes you to jump. You peer over the counter and grimace at the sight.

“God, what did that poor tuna ever do to you?”

Sanji continues slicing into the red flesh, more aggressively than before, but still with the same care and precision that he affords every ingredient he touches.

“Why?”

“Why what?” You lift your gaze to his face, smiling softly at the concentration twisting his features. It’s one of the things you admire greatly about Sanji—the sheer dedication and love he has for his craft.

“Why did you break up with him?” Sanji repeats. He’s chopping up a variety of garnish now. Again, with more aggression than necessary.

You raise a brow, but decide not to comment on it.

“What makes you think I was the one who called it quits?”

He sets the knife down and turns to you, blonde bangs falling across his face. Sanji flashes you his signature flirtatious smile, but there’s a strange hint of tension attached to it.

“Who would ever think to break up with you?” He leans in, gaze darkening. “They would have to be crazy.”

You pull back, rolling your eyes. He’s always like this. Coy. Intimate. The ultimate womanizer. Sometimes… you wish it could be different.

“Well, he must have been crazy then.”

“What?” Sanji pauses, confusion etches his expression. “You… wait… he broke up with you?!”

“Don’t sound so surprised. He only beat me to it by a week. I had the decency to try and wait until after Valentines,” you note. You aren’t particularly broken up about the whole thing. Your ex is barely an ex—a summer fling, if anything. But Sanji, on the other hand, is acting as if some horrible crime has been committed.

“I’ll kill him.”

You blink. “Okay. A bit of an overreaction.”

“How dare he…” Sanji mumbles, not hearing you. His hand tightly grips the knife handle, and you swear the temperature just dropped even in the presence of boiling pots and simmering roux.

“Alright, enough. Don’t be so dramatic,” you laugh, moving to gently pry his fingers from their iron grip on the handle. He lets you—watching as you take the blade from him, and relishing in the soft feel of your skin against his. He itches to grab your hand and pull you closer. But he doesn’t. He won’t.

He can’t.

Sanji learned very quickly that his charms and gimmicks weren’t going to work on you. In all fairness, they rarely do, but for some unfathomable reason, he can’t seem to let that particular rejection go. He will always resent that part of him for pushing you away and drawing that boundary—a line you both delicately toe, never to cross over to each other’s side.

Your first meeting was… disastrous, to say the least. Sanji had just met the crew, and was tripping over himself to impress Nami, when you had made your way back to the others after a quick break in the powder room.

You had witnessed all of his shameless flirting and blatant promiscuity on your way back. You immediately took a strong dislike to the blonde chef, his behaviour reminiscent of exes that were none too pleasant.

“I’m back.”

At the sound of your voice, Sanji beamed, turning to strike up another flowery bombardment of compliments and flattery… only to freeze in place when he saw you.

For once, his silver tongue lacked its luster, fumbling before the sight of you.

For once, he knew not what to say or do. He could only stare. Only admire and behold.

“Good job. You broke the chef,” Zoro deadpanned.

You pulled an expression of slight concern and mild annoyance.

“Um… are you alright?” You waved a hand across Sanji’s face. No reaction. The rest of the crew barely paid him any mind, too busy either eating, drinking… or arguing, in Nami and Zoro’s case.

You slipped into the booth next to Zoro, choosing to ignore the bizarre situation, when a deep, rumbling voice belonging to a peg-legged old man boomed from across Baratie.

“SANJI!”

It snapped Sanji out of his stupor, grounding him back into reality.

“Marry me.”

But perhaps not logic.

“What?”

Zoro pulled a face of disgust eerily similar to your own. Somewhere in the background, you vaguely heard Ussop choking on his drink. Nami clapped thunderously on his back. Is she trying to help him or kill him?

Luffy, through all of this, watched with bright, curious eyes.

“Yuuummphh fuu’yyy,” exclaimed Luffy, his mouth full of bread, gravy, and what you can only assume is a whole ribeye steak.

Zoro turned his disgust toward the captain. “Are you kidding?”

Luffy scarfed down another forkful of food, grinning wide as he swallowed the last of his meal. He patted his stomach, content, before turning his attention back to Sanji.

“You’re funny!” He laughed.

“That’s what you were trying to say?!”

Luffy ignored Zoro’s exasperation and just giggled in his usual carefree manner. Sanji ignored them all, choosing only you to spare his attention. You shifted uncomfortably, tension coursing through your veins at the way he watched you. As if you were the greatest treasure in all of the Four Seas and he was the king of the pirates—a man would do anything to covet it. Covet you.

Zoro and Luffy didn’t seem to grasp the situation as they continued to bicker in the background.

“Boys. Stop… FIGHTING!” Nami barked out. A swift smack from the ginger settled them both down, each sulking in a corner as she berated them for their behaviour.

You took a deep breath, willing your nerves to calm. You met Sanji’s eyes and they shone with hope.

“You want me to marry you?”

“Yes. Desperately,” he breathed out.

If heart eyes were real, they would beat within the passion of his gaze. Strong. Intense. Unabashed. You despised it. How could he look at you in that way after mere moments of greetings? It was lust. Nothing less, and certainly nothing more.

“SANJI, GET YOUR ASS BACK IN HERE!”

Sanji clenched his jaw at the voice, frustration and irritation barely contained. His expression smoothed over as he spoke to you.

“Think it over?”

You raise a brow. “What? The proposal?”

“Precisely that,” he smiled. Gorgeous asshole.

“Over my dead body,” you scoffed. Your rejection didn’t seem to deter him though, the grin on his face still present even as he left for the kitchen.

So many sleepless nights later and Sanji still can’t help but sigh whenever he remembers that day. He wishes he could take back his words, his actions… his everything. Maybe you would love him back if he did. Maybe you wouldn’t be dating morons who don’t even come close to deserving you—not that he does, but he would try.

For you, he would try it all.

Your soft voice breaks him out of his trip down memory lane.

“Seriously, it’s not a big deal,” you reassure.

Sanji wants to shout, But it is! Don’t you get that? How could losing you not be a big deal?

Instead, he shakes his head and takes a long draw from his cigarette. He watches the clouds waft up in lazy rings, circle around your head, and disintegrate into the kitchen heat. Sanji finds it increasingly difficult to meet your eyes.

“Are you alright, love?”

His genuine concern for you makes you smile. “I’m alright, Sanji. I wasn’t that attached, anyway.”

That twinkle in his eyes. It's back again.

“Really? Then what about my initial offer?” he jokes. Though it doesn’t sound like a joke to him. Doesn’t feel like one either.

“What are you talking about?” You ask. You take a spoonful of the broth and bring it to your lips, ignorant of the tense atmosphere. At least until the magnitude of Sanji’s next words drops.

“You know… marrying me.” Sanji holds his breath.

Shit. Why did I say that? He thinks, regretfully.

You falter, the spoon quickly forgotten in the pot. Your appetite disappears just as swiftly.

“Everytime I think we’re having a nice, serious conversation, you just have to go and… say something like that. Aren’t you bored of it? Tired of all the false promises and sweet talk?” You shake your head and stand up to leave.

“[Name], I–”

You cut him off. “I’m disappointed, Sanji.”

“Please, just hear–”

The kitchen door bursts open to show Usopp, who hurriedly beckons you both outside.

“Crew meeting, come on!”

Sanji turns to you, about to say something else, but you ignore him and follow Usopp out into the hallway and up to the deck. Sanji has no choice but to do the same.

Winter has arrived in the form of early nights and fresh snowfall—as if the chilling temperature itself isn’t enough of an indicator. Your breath crystallizes in the air as the three of you venture outside to where you meet the rest of the crew.

Nami has a large sheet of parchment spread flat across the floor with each member of the crew positioned around it in a wide circle. Upon closer inspection, you realize it isn’t one of her usual cartographic maps. It’s a blueprint. And the subject of it… is a castle?

“Nami, what is this?” You ask as you take a seat next to her.

With a pen, she circles a small room located in the eastern wing of the building’s upper level. It sits above a sprawling space. A ballroom, you wager. The schematics look complicated enough.

Nami begins to explain. “This is a blueprint of Ceres Palace, a high-security manor sitting atop the nearest port city. It is home to a powerful noble family…”

She flips the paper over. “…and this.”

A mass of glimmering golden ink shines under the moonlight, every meticulously painted stroke deliberate and delicate. The image is clear.

“Is that a devil fruit?” Robin inquires, eyes narrowing.

“One crafted from solid gold and pure diamond dust, gilded with sea jadeite. It is the most monetarily valuable ‘devil fruit’ in the world, depending on who you ask,” Nami answers. She flips the parchment again. “And we are going to steal it.”

“Wait a damn minu-“

“Hold on-“

“Are we sure that’s-“

A chorus of protests and concerns rise from the rest of the crew, and for good reason. From just a first glance of the palace grounds, you can tell this will be a risky heist, and something in your gut tells you that there’s more to it.

Nami shuts them all up with a pointed glare.

“Do you realize how long I spent drawing up this stupid thing?! One more word from any of you and I will shove it down your throat. Whole,” she threatens.

No one speaks.

“Good. Now, as I was saying, this heist will consist of two parts. The actual theft and the distraction.”

Sanji raises his hand. Nami points at him and nods.

“Why, exactly, are we stealing someone’s gold…er…artifact? I get that we’re pirates but… a bit out of the way, isn’t it?”

Nami, Ussop, and Chopper sigh in unison. The latter ambles your way and climbs into your lap, snuggling for warmth.

“Hello baby,” you murmur. You smile softly as the little reindeer tucks himself into your welcome embrace. You give Chopper a scratch under the chin before turning your attention back to the conversation at hand.

Zoro barely pays any attention, head bobbing a bit. He’s already falling asleep. Typical. Robin, on the other hand, seems to recognize the object.

“I’ve heard of this. Its original name was The Monarch’s Heart. It belonged to the royal family of that island. Twenty years ago, the king’s most trusted advisor spearheaded a coup d’état and a violent rebellion broke out, ending with the execution of the royal family, as well as the usurpation of the former, now exiled, king.” Robin crouches and lightly brushes the blueprint, tracing along its curves. “All this time, the Heart was believed to have been lost amidst war. You’re saying one of the nobles stole it?”

Nami scratches her head and grimaces. “Well, yeah, kinda.”

“What do you mean, ‘kinda’”? You ask.

“We don’t have any proof. Not really,” she shrugs.

“So, again, why are we doing this?” Sanji reiterates.

“We have proof!” Luffy grins. Your captain finally speaks up, too preoccupied with messing with a sleeping Zoro moments ago.

“Luffy—” Nami starts.

“What? I believe the old man. He’s a good guy.” Luffy pats his stomach. “He fed me.”

“What old man?” You’re getting more and more confused as the meeting drags on.

“Luffy. You met the exiled king, didn’t you?” Robin’s eyes twinkle with curiosity.

“Um… I don’t know? I forgot his name but he was nice. Told me about how his stuff got stolen unfairly so I promised to get it back for him.”

“So you don’t even know if he’s telling the truth? What if he was the bad guy, and the nobles who took over overthrew a tyrant?” Sanji blows smoke from his cigarette as he prods.

“He was not,” Robin states factually. “The king was known to be kind and benevolent, catering only to the needs of his people. Since that nation's birth, the royal faction was always at odds with the avaricious nobility. That tension came to a head in the form of a brutal uprising. Though massacre is much more fitting of a description for what occurred.”

“Mhm, mhm, mhm.” Luffy nods vigorously at her words. “So we’re gonna get his gold back for him.”

“Liberating another nation, are we?” Zoro yawns, barely waking up.

“Seems like it,” Nami sighs.

“It’s what the captain wants,” Robin smiles.

“And what Luffy wants…” you begin.

Everyone else groans.

“Luffy gets.”

“So…” Sanji shifts next to you. Closer. His warmth clouds your senses a little and you try to ignore the dizzying effect it has on you. “How do we do this, exactly?”

“I bust down the door and slice ‘em up,” Zoro offers.

“In your dreams, Mosshead. I could take down—”

You pinch his side. Sanji jumps and turns to you, a slight pout on his face. Despite what happened earlier, you find yourself trying not to laugh.

“You’re not doing that, Zoro,” Chopper scolds.

The swordsman tsks. “Fine. Then how the hell are we actually pulling this off?”

Nami explains the plan.

Sanji turns white.

Your mouth drops open. “Excuse me?!”

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . 　

“Oh god, I’m going to throw up.”

Robin chuckles as she hands you silken gloves. “Don’t worry. You’ll do just fine. Remember, get in, pull the alarm, get out.”

“Easier said than done,” you grumble.

The plan is actually much more complex than what Robin makes it out to be.

The palace itself has two separate alarm systems—one for the vault, and another in case of fire. If both are activated at the same exact moment, they cause a complete system break, and the fire alarm overrides the theft security, forcing an evacuation with everyone none the wiser.

The plan is for you and Sanji to infiltrate the party under the pretense of a foreign dignitary and his spouse, survey and locate the alarm, cause a distraction, and pull the alarm the precise moment Nami unlocks the vault. All communicated via Den Den Mushi earpieces.

Easy peasy.

Your clothing sticks to you uncomfortably—tight in areas you don’t normally expose to the world. The scented oil in your hair makes you smell like you had just popped fresh out of the oven. A layered film of glittering makeup rests on your features, rendering the person in the mirror a complete, hapless stranger.

“Why did it have to be me?”

And Sanji?

You don’t voice that last bit.

“Nami’s the thief, the other boys would blow their covers immediately, I have other matters to attend to, and Chopper… Well, Chopper’s a reindeer.”

You run a hand through your hair. Anxiety claws at your skin. You feel a sudden urge to feign illness and rid yourself of this ridiculous plan.

“Must we pose as a couple? Surely there are other ways,” you implore.

“The invites we swiped were from married nobles,” Robin reminds.

You groan. Robin pats your shoulder supportively.

“There there. Don’t fret, you’ll do fine. Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Robin gives you another encouraging pat before she ushers you out of the dressing room.

You make your way outside, shivering slightly as the winter winds bite into your skin. The thin fabric of your garments do nothing to shield the cold.

Someone lets out a sharp inhale. You turn towards the noise. Sanji stands to your left, clutching an envelope in hand. His usual suave demeanour is displaced by an air of buzzing anxiety and a starstruck expression.

He’s dressed in a sleek three-piece black suit. It pains you how devastatingly handsome he looks.

“You clean up nice,” you note.

“I…uh. You—Sorry, yeah, what?” Sanji replies, all smooth and intelligent.

“…Pardon?”

Robin watches the entire interaction with a pained grimace. Having enough, she steps up and gently steers you towards Sanji.

“Hurry up, now. They’re expecting you both soon. Don’t forget to stay in character, lest you end up blowing your covers.” She winks at you both, but you can’t help but think it was directed more towards Sanji.

“Shall we?”

Seemingly recovered from whatever alien had possessed him seconds ago, the chef offers you his arm with a small smile. You place your hand around his bicep and try to ignore his rippling muscles underneath your fingertips.

“Color me surprised. I really thought you’d have showered me with compliments by now,” you joke.

“I thought you didn’t like that part of me.”

Disappointment blooms in your chest.

“Right. I don’t. I just…” you trail off. You just thought you looked nice tonight. And maybe a small part of you was hoping he felt the same.

“Never mind.”

You slip your hand out of the crook of Sanji’s arm and start walking a little bit faster, hoping he doesn’t notice the conflicting emotions on your face.

When Sanji first joined the crew, you made yourself a promise: that you would never fall for his charms. But as time went on and he showed you a mountain of kindness, understanding, and empathy… that promise, steadily, became much harder to keep and much easier to forget. It wasn’t his flirting and charms that were dangerous—it was the man buried underneath all that playful pretense. A man who has stubbornly found his way into your guarded heart, despite your best efforts of keeping him out.

It was always easier that way. Easier to turn away, to shut him out. Easier to walk away when you catch him with others who drew his interest and to stop listening as he murmurs sweet nothings in their ears—the very ones he had whispered to you. It was easier to accept that you are not, and will not, be special to him.

You refuse to be just another mark in his book of conquests, and if all it takes is a silent heartbreak to avoid such a fate, so be it. You’ve survived much worse before.

The palace soon comes into view, a grand structure that stretches into the vertical horizon. The path towards the marbled entrance is busy with bustling guests and the glowing orbs of rainbow fireflies. You steadily, and as elegantly as possible, make your way towards the host out in front.

“Good evening, may I see your invitations for the night?” He asks, gloved hand outstretched in expectation.

Sanji flashes him a million-berry smile. “Of course, my good sir. I have them right here.”

He pulls out the envelope you had seen earlier from inside his black suit jacket. The greeter accepts the documents and diligently scans them. After a few seconds, he nods, satisfied by what he sees, and hands the papers back to Sanji.

“Enjoy your night.” He moves aside to let you pass and holds an arm out, guiding you both through the white stone doors.

As soon as you step through the entrance , you are greeted by a foyer fit for kings. A cascading staircase blanketed by red velvet leads to even larger double doors, both white like the walls, but trimmed with gold linings and spiral handles. A crystal chandelier, bigger than you ever thought possible, hangs from the ceiling. It casts shining diamonds in every reflection of the room.

Sanji holds out his arm for you again as you both prepare to execute the mission, but you don’t immediately go to take it. Sanji must sense your hesitation because he sighs and gives you a strained, yet still affectionate smile.

“[Name], please. If not for me, then for appearances. We’re married, remember?”

“Fake married,” you correct, although you relent and slip your hand in the crook of his elbow anyway.

“You don’t have to remind me.”

Arm in arm, Sanji leads you to the ballroom. The doors open to reveal hundreds of nobles draped in silk and pearls, dining on delicacies, and mingling with others of their same social echelon. You already want to go home.

You both find a small table tucked into a corner and stand around it.

“We have to wait until Nami gives us the signal. First, let’s blend in and make sure to look like we belong,” you whisper.

Sanji leans in to hear you better. “What do you suggest? We could hit the banquet table, the food doesn’t look half bad.”

You peer over his shoulder at the platters of hor d'oeuvres and fancy desserts. “They don’t look nearly as good as what you make.”

“Was that a compliment?” Sanji grins.

“Don’t get used to it. Your heads already far too big,” you smirk.

“I don’t have that much of an ego,” he grumbles, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve.

“Hey, don’t do that.” You gently swat at his hand, admonishing him for trying to pull the string out.

“Why? It’s annoying.”

“Yeah, but you’ll ruin it even more if you just yank at it. Hold on.” You pluck a small oyster shucker from a passing waitress’s pocket, with her none the wiser. With the knife, you smoothly cut away the thread and flick it into a bin behind you.

Sanji stares at you in awe. “Did you just pickpocket the…”

“Not a word.”

“Got it.”

“Anyway, we don’t want to ruin these clothes. They’re borrowed. And so much nicer than what we’re used to.”

You pull at your collar to adjust it, only to realize Sanji is staring at you again, but with a different glint in his eyes. One with more… heat. It is only now that you realize how close you are to him—pressed up against his side, thigh-to-thigh and shoulder-to-shoulder, as you both converse away from the crowd. Sanji exudes warmth that, mixed with your own cluttered feelings, makes you a bit dizzy. You take a step back. Sanji’s gaze never leaves you.

“Did I tell you earlier how good you look?”

You swallow. “No.”

He steps closer, closing the gap again. “You look good. Really, really good.”

“Thanks. Formal clothing does wonders.” Your laugh comes out more nervous than you intended.

“Unbelievably good,” he murmurs, almost to himself—like he can’t believe what’s right in front of him.

“Sanji–”

A screeching violin note interrupts you and the strange moment you both got caught up in. Sanji snaps back to his usual self and quickly shakes his head, as if clearing away a fog.

“Food,” he coughs.

You blink. “Right. Food.”

“I’m gonna…” Sanji motions towards the buffet.

You’ve never seen him this… awkward. You’re not sure what to make of it.

“Yeah. Go ahead. I’m gonna scope out the place and figure out where the alarm is.”

He stiffly nods, then makes his way across the ballroom. You turn heel and begin walking along the corridors, scanning for anything that may resemble an alarm.

A static noise crackles in your right ear.

“Can…I—“

A sudden spike of sharp feedback makes you wince.

“Sorry! Can you hear me?” Nami’s voice pipes up.

“Yes. Comms are working. What am I looking for, Nami?”

“Something resembling a button, maybe? Look for a red button or something along those lines.”

“Understood..”

After about ten minutes of searching, you finally come upon it, a small red lever nestled in a corner behind the bar, protected by a square glass casing.

You spot Sanji across the room, mid-conversation with a beautiful, young noble. Your chest twinges, but you push the feeling away. His eyes flit to yours and you subtly wave him over, gesturing to the alarm handle.

Sanji excuses himself and briskly makes his way to you.

“You found it?”

“Of course. It’s the whole reason we’re here, remember?” You ignore the lump in your throat.

“Sorry, I got distracted. I didn’t think—”

“It’s fine, Sanji. You were having fun. You don’t have to apologize. Did you get her number at least?” You try and coolly play it off.

His eyebrows knit together. “No. No, I—”

“Anyway, we should figure out how to distract the bartender. He’s the only one who is in the way.”

If Sanji notices your blatant attempt at changing the subject, he doesn’t show it.

“Sure. Any ideas, beautiful?”

“One.”

“What’s the plan?”

You fidget with your sleeve. “He’s been eyeing me all night.”

Sanji makes a disapproving noise. “...I noticed.”

“I’ll distract him. You get the alarm,” you shrug.

Sanji’s eyes narrow. “How, exactly, are you going to do that?”

“C’mon, Sanji, you can’t be that dense. I’m going to seduce him.”

His reply is immediate and final. “No.”

You balk at his flat tone. “What do you mean: no?”

“No. As in opposite of yes. As in absolutely not,” he hisses.

“Sanji. I have t-”

“No as in not okay!”

You place a hand over his mouth in an effort to stop his outburst. “Shhh! Stop that. Are you trying to draw attention to us?!”

He pulls your arm away, undeterred by your growing panic of being found out. “If it’ll get you to reconsider, then yes!”

“Sanji, enough. What is wrong with you? Why are you so worked up?”

“Do you seriously have to ask that?” He cries out, exasperated.

You open your mouth to retort, but Nami’s voice interrupts you.

“Sorry to break up whatever dumb fight this is, but I need someone to pull the alarm in exactly 60 seconds.”

You give Sanji an expectant look. He firmly shakes his head.

“Not happening.”

Before you can stop him, the chef makes his way to the bar, stumbling as if drunk. Before you know what’s happening, Sanji pulls a whiskey bottle from behind the bar, much to the bartender's protests and dismay. He takes a large swig, and you blow out a breath of relief when he sets it down.

Then he picks it back up again. You watch in horror as he lifts the bottle up and… accidentally pours the entire thing onto the champagne tower beside him. The glasses overflow, and the weight of the extra liquid becomes too much. One by one, the glasses come tumbling down in a landslide of alcohol and crystal.

The bartender cries out in distress. Sanji is unapologetic.

You run to the alarm amidst the mess.

“Ready, [name]?”

“Whenever you are, Nami.”

She begins counting down and the moment you hear: Now!, you pull the handle.

All hell breaks loose.

Blaring alarms ring out, drowning out every other possible sound. Sprinklers sprout from the ceiling and rain down on the partygoers, soaking them and the luxury furniture. Hundreds of panicked patrons scramble to leave, directed by equally flustered staff.

You feel a tug on your sleeve. It’s Sanji.

He tries saying something but is drowned out by the chaos around you. Frustrated, he beckons you over and motions for you to follow him.

After a couple minutes of navigating through screaming nobility, you end up on a secluded balcony away from all the activity. The alarms are barely louder than bells on this end of the palace.

You take a second to catch your breath. Both of you are drenched to the bone, and the chilly winter air does nothing to help your chattering teeth.

Sanji notices your shivering form and immediately drapes his jacket over your shoulders.

You smile gratefully at him, but falter when you see the frown on his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Take it out.”

You blink. “What?”

“The earpiece. Take it out,” he says, impatient.

“Why?”

Sanji runs a hand through his hair in both irritation and anxiousness. “Because I’m going to confess my love for you and I don’t want everyone to hear it. They’d never let me live it down, especially that green-haired freak.”

You freeze. Your thoughts freeze. Every fucking thing stops dead in it’s tracks, including your heart.

“Sanji, this isn’t funny.” Your voice trembles.

“Baby, take the earpiece out. Let me talk to you,” he asks softly.

You don’t say anything, you don’t trust yourself to. With shaking hands, you take the Den Den Mushi out and turn it off.

It is only you and Sanji now.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you echo.

“[Name].”

God, why does he have to say your name in that way? Like it means something more than friends—like it’s worth its weight in both diamonds and gold.

“This still isn’t funny.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not joking,” he says, tone as serious as you’ve ever heard it.

You sigh. “What are we doing, Sanji?”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m trying to confess my undying love to my favourite person in the world. It’s scary.”

“You say that—”

“I mean it,” he interjects.

“What makes me different? What makes me…”

Worthy of your love?

Sanji reaches for you, but stops himself at your expression. You continue questioning his words.

“How do I know this isn’t just some temporary thing? A fleeting crush?” You swallow hard. For some reason, you’re unable to meet his steady gaze. “How do I know this is real?”

He rubs the back of his neck, conflicting emotions flickering across his face. Sanji struggles to find the words needed to convince you. He tries his best, anyway.

“I know what my reputation is like. I know the personality I present to the world. But after I met you, none of it seemed worth it anymore. There was no appeal to living that type of life,” he pauses. Sanji lifts his head and stares straight at you, unwavering in his words. “The moment I saw you, I thought I’d die if I couldn’t be yours. I still think that now.”

Oh. Your chest is trying to kill you. That’s the only explanation for the ache you feel.

“I trust you with my life, Sanji. But not my heart.”

The alarms have stopped by now. Soon, people will come trickling back inside and the mission will be over. This moment in time will soon fade into the background of reality.

“I only ask that you give me a chance.”

“What makes you so sure that you’re the kind of guy I want to be with?”

“As opposed to your exes? Those guys—none of them deserved you,” he scoffs, annoyed at the mere mention of them.

You raise a brow. “Do you?”

“No. Of course not,” he answers. “But I want to try. Please, god, let me try.”

Your hands are still shaking, but not from the cold.

“We should get back to the ship,” you say, a strained smile on your face.

Sanji’s face falls at your deflection, but he accepts it and doesn’t push. He nods, and you both make your way back to the Merry, an uncomfortable silence hanging over you like a wet blanket.

You are only a couple hundred meters out from the ship when you stop abruptly. Sanji almost crashes into you, but steadies himself at the last second.

“Is something wrong?” He asks in concern.

Before you can lose your nerve, you whirl around and utter two words: “One date.”

It takes Sanji a few moments to understand what you just said, but when he does, he lights up like a kid on Christmas Eve. One who just met Santa. The sheer joy on his face makes it all worth it.

“You’re not messing with me, right? Please say no,” he shakily pleads.

You shake your head. “One. Make it count.”

Instead of answering, he throws his arms around you, wrapping you in his warm embrace.

You loop your arms around his neck and he melts into you, never wanting to let go.

“I’ll make you say yes to a second one. And then a third. And then a lifetime of dates after that. I swear it on my honour as a chef.”

“It’ll have to be a pretty damn good date then,” you laugh.

Sanji presses his forehead on yours.

“It’ll be the best date.”

“And how do you know that?” You tease.

“Because you will be there.”

—

˚ · . tags: @zjarrmiii @aiizenn @emyyy007

1K notes · View notes

matts-k1tten · 2 months

Text

𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐧

summary: Matt takes pictures for the year book at Berlin High and y/n always admired him. What she doesn’t know is Matt does not like her one bit. But what happens when she suddenly stops giving him the usual attention?

warnings: foul language, no smut (yet).

—————————

I slam the car door shut and start walking down the parking lot towards the front entrance.

Today, I woke up the happiest I’ve ever felt in my life.

I walk into the front entrance of the school and spot Matt, the guy I’ve always admired.

I joyfully skip up to him.

“Hey Matt! How are you today?” I smile up at him.

He rolls his eyes before turning to me.

“What do you want?!” He questions.

“I-I just asked you how your day was?” My smile fades a bit.

He groans. “I know! It’s everyday you do this bombarding me with all these questions everyday all day!”

Usually he’d answer but now something was really up with him.

“Can you leave me alone now?! Go bother someone else!” He yells in my face as he slams his lockers and walks away.

I stand there stunned and a little sad.

I look down at my feet for a second before looking up with a small smile and start walking to class.

That totally killed my mood a bit but I can’t let him know that.

I start waking to class when I get stopped by my best friend, Angela.

“Y/n! You wouldn’t believe who just asked me on a date!” She yells and shakes my shoulders.

“What who?!” I question.

“Chris fucking Sturniolo!” She smiles bigger and starts to jump a bit.

I put on a fake smile.

“Oh my god Angela! That’s amazing!” I reply.

Why can’t Matt be like his brother.

“Yeah! Any luck with Matt?” She asks calming down a bit.

My eyes widen for a second before I clear my throat.

“I-uh it’s going good!” I lie.

Angela makes a face.

“What ever you say. Now let’s get to class!” She says and starts to pull me down the hall.

Not wanting to see Matt, I try to protest.

“I don’t want to go to class let’s just skip please!” I plead with her.

She rolls her eyes.

“We have to! We have an important test today! Plus we’ve been skipping a lot that’s not good for our records.” She replies.

She pulls me again and this time I don’t try to fight out her grip.

We get into class and plop down on our chairs.

I make eye contact with Matt from across the room but I quickly look away.

I go to pull out my stuff when the teacher starts talking.

“Good morning class! Before we start the lesson I have an announcement, we have a new seating arrangement because I figured that it was time for a change!” The teacher announces.

I groan. “What the fuck.” I whisper to myself.

“Come up to my desk and find out where your new seat is!” The teacher yells again and goes to sit on her chair.

Angela and I look at each other before both getting up and walking to the teachers desk.

Angela finds out she sits next to some random girl and I find out I sit next to Matt.

I don’t want to deal with him right now.

I roll my eyes and look at Matt, he looks at me.

We end up sitting all the way in the back. Great.

I sit down and he joins me.

“Hi Matt!” I say putting on a fake smile.

“Hey.” He says blankly not even glancing at me.

I was just trying to lighten the mood but that’s fine.

“I will now be passing out your tests!” The teacher yells.

I’m doing mental math when Matt suddenly taps my shoulder.

I ignore him to focused on the problem I’m on, I can’t afford any distractions.

“I know you’re ignoring me.” He whispers.

“I’m not, I’m doing my work. do yours!” I whisper yell still looking at my paper.

“I-I can’t, I need help on my paper.” He says.

I don’t look at him and continue working.

“If you help me then I’ll give you the best possible outcome of the day.”

I smile faintly and turn to him.

deep down I love every second of his attention.

“I need your help on question 11.” Matt speaks quietly.

“And why should I help you?” I ask teasingly.

“I’ll pay you back somehow just help me I have to pass.” He pleads.

He places his hand on my hand looking in my eyes.

What is he trying to do? He must be really desperate huh?

“Hmm.” I say thinking.

“Trust me, I’ll pay you back.” Matt whispers in my ear seductively as he places his hand on my thigh.

I feel myself leak from down there.

“Fine.”

I get home and slam my car door shut and walk into the house.

I was so excited to tell my parents that I aced my test so we can have a family dinner.

I’m met with my parents sitting on the couch look rather… upset?

They’re always smiling what could be wrong?

“Come take a seat honey.” My mom says not even looking up at me.

I put my bag down and slowly walk over to the couch they’re sitting on.

They’re both looking at the floor refusing to speak.

My mother opens her mouth to speak but quickly closes it.

“Sweetie, your father and I-“ She cuts herself off by clearing her throat.

“Your father and I are getting a divorce.” She says quickly.

My face visibly drops as I look over at my father.

He still stares at the ground not daring to look up.

“What?” I asked confused.

“I’m sorry honey, it just wasn’t working out I-“ Her voice breaks.

“excuse me” My mother says quick and speed walks away to the washroom.

I look over at my father again.

“Dad?!” I yell.

He quickly looks up then back down. He gets up and slowly walks to his room leaving me there to comprehend what just happened.

My parents are getting a divorce?

——————————

a/n: uh oh guyss this is where it starts!! guys I know that the camera man thing doesn’t seem like an important role in this story but just wait till the future parts!!

taglist: @sillyfreakfanparty

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo angst #nic #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo angst #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #spotify #fanfic

484 notes · View notes

rninies · 3 months

Text

✮ roses

౨ৎ gojo satoru x reader. fluff, gn!reader, gojo loves flowers (like... he loves them a lot) — wc: 1171

notes. finally had time to publish a new fic hi everyone

gojo satoru loves roses.

when you first became friends with satoru, you were immediately bombarded with little facts about roses almost every day — ranging from what each color means or even how long they grow. to be completely honest, you found it really cute. the way his eyes sparkle when talking about them, and his hands getting excited, flailing around.

that is probably one of the reasons why you started having a crush on him. not like he would know anyway. you had no plans on confessing your feelings to him anytime soon — you’re too afraid of breaking your friendship with him. a cliche reason, but it’s true. you don’t want to throw your three-year friendship with satoru down the drain.

these past few days, however, you notice satoru has been super focused on his phone lately, much more than usual. at first, you thought he was just admiring his new phone wallpaper he boasted to suguru around twice per day, but when you find out he’s been texting someone secretly, you got curious (and slightly jealous).

“toru, what’re you looking at?” you asked, trying to look at his phone. satoru immediately hides his phone, placing it inside his pocket. you raised your eyebrows suspiciously. “why’d you hide your phone? are you… watching something weird?”

“what? no!” satoru exclaims, sounding offended. “i’m not watching anything weird, you weirdo. how could you even think that? i was just-” he sighs. “you know what, never mind.”

“huh? come on, tell me!” you poked his shoulder multiple times, earning a groan from him. satoru grabs your hand and stops you.

“do that again and i’m going to throw your favorite plushy out the window.” satoru threatens and you immediately stop. he smiles, satisfied. “good. you stop pestering me with questions and i’ll treat you to anything you want.”

“deal!” you exclaim. did he get a girlfriend? was the only thing on your mind because what else would he be so secretive about? you’ve been best friends for three years… so that’s the most plausible answer.

it was finally the weekend, the day you’d been looking forward to this whole week since you were able to relax without anything or anyone bothering you. as you scrolled through your phone, you hear the doorbell ring.

you weren’t expecting anyone, so this is a total surprise. regardless, you still went downstairs and opened the door, thinking satoru was here to annoy you again.

instead, you were met with a delivery man holding a… bouquet of roses in his hands. “are you y/n l/n?”

“oh, um, yes,” you reply hesitantly, staring the bouquet. “i-is that for me?”

the delivery man smiles. “yes! here you are,” he hands the bouquet over to you and you can finally notice that they are a gorgeous color of red. “and here’s the note from gojo satoru.”

you freeze, from satoru? why would he send these to me? is this a joke? you quickly regained your composure, smiling at the delivery man. “a-ah, really? thank you for delivering these to me.” the guy quickly leaves after giving a small comment about how cute satoru is for delivering these to you.

you closed the door behind you and immediately inspected the flowers, counting six roses in it. you open the note which is only filled with “call me when you receive these :P” taking your phone out from your pockets and dialing satoru’s number.

it took three rings for satoru to answer. “hello-?”

“toru! why’d you send me these flowers out of nowhere? is this a joke? are you playing a trick on me? what is the meaning of this?” you bombarded satoru with questions, not even giving him time to say hello.

“hello to you too, y/n.” satoru chuckles. “you received them already? that was quick.” that was the only thing satoru said to you, and you swear your heart was about to burst.

“gojo satoru. i’m being serious right now!” you exclaimed, desperately wanting an answer. “why did you send me these flowers? roses to be exact. six of them!”

“if i tell you the answer it won’t be fun now, is it?” satoru replies teasingly. you swear, if you can just jump inside your phone and magically appear inside satoru’s room, you would just smack him.

“gojo satoru if you don’t tell me the reason right now i’m going to personally come over to your house and smack you.” you threatened, though it is basically an empty threat to satoru, knowing he can easily stop you using his damn infinity.

“oh, i’m so scared,” satoru sarcastically say, which annoys you even further. “look, how about you research the meaning behind these roses and let me know, yeah?”

you groaned, mentally slapping yourself. “if i find out it means something terrible i’m never talking to you again.”

satoru only laughs and says a quick “good luck!” before ending the call. you immediately open google, quickly searching up the meaning behind six roses.

6 Roses: The perfect way to say, “I want to be yours”.

the whole world seems to have stopped, your face turning a bright shade of red as you almost drop your phone. your heart was beating so loudly and your hands were shaking that you can’t even press satoru’s number.

so, instead of calling, you ended up walking to his house (after a few minutes of calming down). you let out a shaky sigh and pressed the doorbell.

satoru opens the door and you immediately pull him closer to you. “what is the meaning of this?” you immediately shove your phone in front of his face.

he gives a quick read on what was on your phone and smiles. “yeah, what about it?”

“i-” you can’t even speak. the mere though of saying you like him back seems like it was too much for you to do. “what the fuck, satoru! h-how’d you know i like you?”

“you aren’t necessarily good at hiding your feelings, you know.” satoru says with a small laugh and you wanted to bury a hole and stay there forever. “but i find it cute. you have this lovestruck look on your face whenever i start talking about flowers. i initially thought you are in love with flowers just as i am.”

“h-huh?! i do not have a lovestruck look on me!” you exclaim, embarrassed that he actually noticed something like that. “i can’t believe you sent me flowers instead of directly confessing to me,” you glance at the flowers in your hand and a small smile appeared on your face. “though i guess it is something you would do.”

“right? aren't i so romantic?” satoru says with a proud tone and you laugh. “so, do you like the flowers?”

“yes.” you reply. “can't believe i fell for a cheesy, romantic flower boy.” you teased.

“you love this cheesy, romantic flower boy though.” satoru replies with a teasing grin.

you laughed and took his hand in yours. “yeah, i do.”

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ayanominitrash · 5 months

Text

Act Cool, Senpai! (Geto Suguru x reader)

₊˚ ♡

Geto-san takes a liking to his cute kouhai, He wonders if he looks good to you.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

2nd Entry.

First part here. Third part here. Masterlist.

Nowadays, Geto finds himself taking a longer time fixing his hair in the mirror.

Usually, he’d tie his hair up in a bun once, fix a few strands here and there, grab his school bag, and leave. But it was his fourth time trying to tame his dark locks and he hadn't even realizes it until he was getting mildly frustrated at himself.

He stops.

Geto lets his arms down to rest for a moment while looking back at the pair of small eyes in the mirror. What's gotten into him? He was never the type to worry about his looks. Sure, he's more of the concerned hygienic type - he's more concerned with being clean and smelling good - which are just common sense, rather than thinking if people thought his hair bun was tied up in the right way or not.

No, not people. He's suddenly thinking of you, tilting your head to the side, "Geto-san, your hair's a mess today."

He shakes his thoughts away.

No, looks were more like something Gojo would concern himself with. He recalls the time when his classmate would be all up in his face, bearing his teeth and asking him if they all looked perfectly aligned. He groans at the memory.

Suddenly, the door to his dorm room slides open to reveal the said classmate, his shoulders slouched with the weight of his eyelids. He looks half awake.

"Suguru...? Why weren't you outside my dorm yet?" Gojo yawns.

"I was just about to get you, you know." He starts doing his hair again, this time not bothering to look in the mirror. "I was just...uh, looking for my hair tie."

"Oh, okay. By all means, please, take your time. I'm not very eager to go see our mutt-looking sensei."

"Satoru, that's not very nice."

The other blows a raspberry at him.

Geto finishes tying his hair up and collects his things. He pauses and looks at Gojo right when he is just about to pass him through the doorway.

"What?"

"Satoru, how do I look?"

Geto's simple question was met with a wide-eyed Gojo, staring at him with what looked like a bewildered expression - like he had done something as strange as turn his head all the way back like an owl would.

"I mean,” Gojo finally starts, “...you look with your eyes."

The raven-haired teen glares daggers at him.

"I don't know man, what do you want me to say?! You look...the same? I don't know. Why? Did you do something with your face or? Gasp! - did you finally use that face cream I was talking about? Is it good?"

At this point, he was continuously bombarded with follow-up questions about a skin care product Geto paid no mind to, along with him being rocked back and forth by the tall man's hands on his shoulders. Geto eventually swats his arms off of him.

"Forget it, you’re no help at all."

₊˚ ♡

The third period comes by and Geto internally curses at himself when he hasn’t had the time to check himself in between classes, because here you are, already standing at the doorway. He hears his heartbeat in his ears as he watches how your face shows your confusion mixed with a bit of nervousness, eyes darting around the room.

“Hello, excuse me. . . “ You speak up in a small voice. “But may I know where Ieiri-san is?”

Gojo lifts his head from where it was resting in his arms, “I’ll tell you if you gots some candy on ya.”

“Satoru,” Geto warns. His classmate was notoriously known for messing with his juniors. Not even his seniors were safe.

“Whhhaatt? I’m just talking to her. Hey, you. Don’t just stand there, come in here.”

Feeling self-conscious, he sinks further into his seat as you take up on Gojo’s offer, hesitantly strolling next to your senior as he removes his arms from the teacher’s table.

“No, seriously, you got candy on you? I’m bored out of my mind here.”

“Only if you tell me where Ieiri-san is.” You put air on your left cheek, making you look like a chipmunk.

Geto just might die from how adorable you look.

“Well - “

“She was called to the infirmary by Yaga-sensei,” He finally cuts in, much to Gojo’s dismay. “A few of the Junior Sorcerers came back from a mission and need medical attention so she was called in on short notice.”

“You’re no fun, Suguru.”

“Oh, I see. . . “ You drift off, looking at him then somewhere out the window. “I guess I’ll go to class on my own then. Thank you. Also, here,” You hand a few pieces of peppermint candy to Gojo, who immediately snatches them away from you.

“None for me?” Geto teases.

You smile and then approach his seat.

Act cool, Geto thinks. Act cool - shit.

“Here you go, senpai. I have a lot more so you can have this much.” You cup the few pieces of candy in both of your hands, presenting them to the raven-head, to which he reaches a palm out to accept them. At the exchange, he can see how his one hand is much bigger compared to your two small ones. He also notices how soft and clean yours looks. He also doesn’t miss the way a shiver runs up his skin when your fingers graze his.

Your senior looks up at you with that gentle smile of his, “Aren’t you sweet? Thank you for this.”

He feels a bit guilty taking these from you when he’s not much of a sweet tooth himself - he only learned to eat sweets through Gojo - but he’d be lying if he didn’t want to keep these treats in his pockets and carry them around forever.

Is that weird?

“You know what? How about I walk you to class as a way of saying thank you?”

Gojo groans, “Noooooo, don’t leave me heeerre - “

“Shut up, Satoru.”

You flail your hands in front of you,” Ah - Geto-san, t-that’s real nice of you b -but you don’t need to! It’s okay. Plus, you might be late to your next class.”

Geto can only smile at you as a facade of his nervousness, “It’s okay, there’ll be a delay since our next teacher might be aiding in the Junior’s mission reports. I’m also gonna need to stretch my legs.”

“Okay…” You look down at your shoes and twiddle with your hands. “Well then, if it’s alright with you, then I don’t mind the company.”

“Are you just gonna leave me here then?”

With a tsk, he gives Gojo his phone, “Go play games on my phone.”

“What am I, a kid? You think I’m just gonna - ooooh you got a few new ones in here.”

Now that Gojo’s distracted, he takes the opportunity to put his hand on your shoulder, urging you to start walking out of the classroom.

“Let’s go?”

You start to nod only to freeze for a moment, staring at something over his head. Without warning, you reach a hand up and pat down a stray hair from on top of Geto’s head. It was like you were giving him head pats. It was his turn to freeze.

“There. Let’s go, Geto-san.”

I think I should mess my hair up a bit more.

₊˚ ♡ - - - -

Later that day. . .

“Kento, Geto-san was so cool today. He troubled himself to walk me to my next class.”

“So?”

“Isn’t our senapi so nice?”

Your classmate Nanami, only shrugs at you, never tearing his eyes away from the book he was reading.

“You’re so cold.”

(❀❛ ֊ ❛„)♡ reblogs and comments are appreciated//do not repost my work anywhere

Very happy my last post was so well received <3 idk how I feel about this 2nd part tho but I hope you enjoyed reading// ❛ ֊ ❛„)♡

#jjk geto #jjk ieiri #jjk gojo #jujustu kaisen #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x you #suguru geto x y/n #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x y/n #fanfic #kouhai #fluff #geto fluff #senpai #nanami kento #haibara yu

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btsvt-bar · 25 days

Note

Any hard thoughts on soft-dom Joshua returning home from his Barrie shoot and stopping you in the middle of whatever you’re doing to rail you because he missed you and was a touch jealous you were hanging out with the other members while he was away? 💕💕

omg yes yes yes!!!! he looked so good, I’m obsessed with the pics 😮‍💨

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

You’re scrambling around the kitchen trying to get everything done before Joshua gets home. You’ve baked a batch of cookies, plus prepared his favorite lasagna from the scratch.

You peep at your phone to see what time it is and, if you calculated correctly, he should be home any minute now. As if it was planned, the digital door lock emits a loud sound, and you know it’s your boyfriend.

"Oh my god, what’s that delicious smell?" His angelic voice fills the house.

"Welcome back!" your excited eyes greet his when Shua enters the kitchen. You hurry over and collapses into his embrace. "How was your trip? How’s Scotland? Are you hungry?" you bombard him with questions and Joshua chuckles.

"Baby, slow down." He finds your excitement adorable. "It was great, Scotland’s beautiful." He smiles softly while still hugging you. "Yes, I’m very hungry. And I missed you, my pretty princess."

You let go of him to look at his gorgeous face you missed so much. His eyes are filled with adoration and you’re sure yours replicate the feeling. "I’m glad you enjoyed it, baby. But I missed you too much and I’m glad you’re home again."

"Oh did you? I thought you were busy hanging out with Wonwoo and Minghao." His teasing and slightly jealous tone doesn’t go unnoticed.

You playfully roll your eyes. "Don’t be jealous, it’s not a cute look." You say as you caress his cheek.

"I’m not." He tries to deny, but the pout that forms on his lips contradict his words.

"You know you’re my favorite boy, right?" You hook your arms around his neck, going in for a kiss.

You share a kiss filled with passion and warmth. Joshua smiles into it and you can feel it as he deepens the connection. His tongue caresses yours avidly, and both of you sigh.

Your boyfriend’s hand trail down your body and rest on your ass. He grabs a fistful of the soft flesh, his digits peeking under the fabric of your blue sundress. You try to deepen the kiss even more, but Joshua pulls away.

"You know I'm holding back from fucking you over this kitchen counter." He bites his lower lip, giving you a hot look.

"What if I don’t want you to hold back?"

He groans quietly. You’re a menace to him.

"Would you do it if I told you that I’m not wearing underwear?" It’s your turn to bite on your own lip. You see the second his eyes darken with lust, so you know you’re in for a treat.

"Bend over and spread your legs for me." He commands. "Be a good girl, my good girl, and I’ll let you cum on my mouth."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

read next: fever (minwon threesome)

#seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #seventeen drabbles #seventeen hard hours #seventeen x reader #joshua smut #joshua hard hours #joshua x reader #joshua drabbles #joshua fanfic #my works #anon request

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georgie-weasley · 1 year

Text

Spontaneous G.W. x Reader

Warnings: one swear word

Word Count: 3k

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Summary: You were rich, pretty, smart, and everything George wasn't. According to George, you were untouchable. He admires you from afar until he learns that you are human, just like him

Masterlist

“I think you’ve got enough strawberries George.” Fred laughed, waving his hand in front of George’s face. George blinked, coming out of a trance to finally tear his eyes away from the girl that had him captivated and look at his plate. He had about 15 strawberries dangerously stacked next to his toast and waffles. Ten minutes ago he had been starving, ready to eat Fred if he had to until you walked in, laughing with your friends. He didn’t even see you at first since he was so preoccupied picking out his breakfast but he heard you. Someone must have said something hilarious because your laugh seemed to echo around the Great Hall, bombarding George from all angles. He loved it. Your laugh sounded like the crescendo in a song, taking his breath away. He had been red in the face and sweaty before he even saw you. When he finally did look at you, it was all over. You moved so gracefully, you could have been floating. George watched you talk with your friends and when he saw your smile, he forgot all about his grumbling stomach.

Fred turned to look over his shoulder and when he caught sight of you, he rolled his eyes and turned back to his brother. “Here’s an idea Georgie,” Fred grumbled, “stop staring at her and go talk to her.”

“Yeah mate, it’s weird. I’m uncomfortable for her.” Lee Jordan chimed in, reaching across the table to grab some toast.

“I will have you know I have talked to her.” George huffed, carefully dismantling Strawberry Tower, moving the discarded ones onto Lee’s plate.

“Talking about the weather doesn’t count.” Lee snorted, happily eating the food now added to his plate. George opened his mouth to retort but Lee continued. “Neither does telling her good morning or asking her about the homework.”

“Or apologizing when you ‘accidentally’ bump into her in the halls.”

George glared and threw a strawberry, aiming for Fred’s nose. Much to his disappointment, Fred ducked and the strawberry rolled away. “I have talked to her. Small talk counts as talking if you didn’t know.”

Lee rolled his eyes. “Sure but you’ve been in love with her since third year. Small talk isn’t going to make her fall for you. Just go up to her and tell her you’re in love with her and hope she feels the same. If she doesn’t,” Lee shrugged, “at least you know.”

“That is the stupidest thing you have ever said Lee. And you once asked McGonagall if she licks herself clean when she’s a cat.” The three boys shuddered at the memory. “I’ll talk to her about something normal. Something that will make her want to keep talking to me.”

---

“Do you ever wonder if McGonagall licks herself clean when she’s a cat?” George stood in front of you, hands sweating and his eyes going wide as he realized what just came out of his mouth. Something normal indeed.

“Pardon?” You cocked your head to the side, watching George with those beautiful eyes he could spend forever staring into.

“I just mean that maybe she acts like a cat does and that’s how they bathe. So maybe she…” He trailed off, hearing the giggles coming from your friends behind you. “Sorry, that was… weird.”

You smiled and George could feel his heart stop. He was going into cardiac arrest, he just knew it. “A little but a very good question all the same.”

He died. There was no way he was alive. The real you would have never even entertained his question, let alone call it a good one. He stared at you with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open. He should say something, something smooth. If he could just lay on the charm like Fred does so well, you’d be putty in his hands. “Do you think that means she goes to the bathroom in a box?” Oh. My. God.

George spun on his heel and took off sprinting down the hall. He was the biggest idiot on the planet.

George lay in his bed, hands covering his face as Fred and Lee practically rolled on the floor with laughter. “So you– I mean you really asked her if McGonagall uses… a box?” Lee burst into another fit of giggles as Fred gasped for air. “George, I think you did it mate. I think she’s in love with you now.”

A scarf came flying from the bed, landing harmlessly on Lee. “I hate both of you!” George grabbed his pillow, burying his face in it. The laughter died down and once the other two felt they could talk without falling into another laughing fit, they climbed onto his bed.

“George, you’ve never had this much trouble talking to a girl before. You’ve always been pretty smooth. Not like me but you have never struggled to talk to anyone. Why is she so different?” Fred grabbed the pillow, making sure his twin was still breathing.

“Why is she different? Have you not seen her, Fred?” George sat up, looking at his hands. “First of all she’s gorgeous. Ethereal. Stunning. All that and more. She’s funny. I’ve heard her make a few jokes and they’re great; some of them are almost as good as ours. She’s smart and talented and nice and just perfect. That’s the problem.” He sighed and glanced at his brother and friend, glad to see they were now taking him seriously. “She’s from this really well off family. Her parents are both ministry workers but not like dad, they have important jobs. Her family has been full of powerful witches and wizards for centuries but they have never acted like others are less than. I heard she’s been ballroom dancing since she was seven. Her family is rich. She's a lady and I’m just…George Weasley. She would never want to talk to me. Or date me for that matter.”

This had not been the first time George or any of the other Weasley boys had felt less than because of what they didn’t have. George had never seen your house but he assumed it was big enough to fit the Burrow inside it at least three times. He knew your family had money. Meanwhile the Weasleys were just scraping by. You were the kind of girl that should have been a princess while George was nothing more than a stable boy. Not even the court jester because a jester would have to be able to speak to you.

“George, you aren’t giving her a chance to give you a chance. You’re making her seem untouchable. She’s human too.” Fred patted him on the back and smiled. “I say, tomorrow you talk to her, like a person. Talk to her like you talk to me.”

“So I should call her a stupid git?” George smirked before getting a pillow to the face.

---

Today was Saturday and just as he had promised, George was going to talk to Y/N. He just had to find her. He checked out the Great Hall and there was no sign of you. Then he checked out any open classrooms he could find and you weren’t there either. He went to the library and had no luck. In fact, he was kicked out for yelling your name while looking for you. By this time, George was exhausted and sure his legs would fall off any minute if he didn’t sit down soon. The lake was close enough that he could kill two birds with one stone; he could look for you and take a break before his lack of legs would make it very easy to tell the difference between him and Fred. As luck would have it, he spotted you sitting under a tree not too far from the edge of the lake. His heart willed him to move toward you but his brain kept his feet firmly planted. This was stupid. He should leave you alone and move on to find some girl that would make more sense. Someone that was not out of his league. At some point, his heart convinced his brain to start walking toward you. The first thing he noticed was the letter in your hand and the next thing he saw were the tears on your cheeks. Yikes. Just back away slowly Georgie, he thought to himself. Take small, quiet steps and you can sneak away before—

“George?”

Shit. He plastered on his best smile and tried to pretend like you weren’t crying right in front of him. “Hey there Y/N. How are you? Probably not great considering the… crying.” George closed his eyes, mentally slamming his head on the nearest tree. It was honestly amazing how great he was at screwing up. He should be given some kind of award. “I’m so sorry. I just walked over and saw you crying and I don’t know what to do with crying people and I’m really nervous to screw up here.” Neither spoke for a minute as you looked up at him. Seeing your usually sparking eyes filled with tears broke his heart, shattered it actually. All he wanted to do was take you in his arms and make it all better. Just talk to her like a person.

Slowly, George approached you, afraid you would take off running or yell at him. When you made no move to sprint away, he sat next to you. “I’m sorry. You make me really nervous but I’m a good listener. Do you want to talk about what’s wrong?”

You were silent for a long time but he didn’t dare move or talk. Honestly, he didn’t think you would tell him what was wrong because why would you? Fred and Lee were right. He had only ever had small talk with you.

“It’s my parents.” Your voice was so soft George almost didn’t hear you. Oh. George nodded in what he hoped was an encouraging way. “You know they’re in the ministry right?” Boy did he know. George had heard from his father about your parents. Your father was part of the Wizengamot, the part of the ministry that makes laws and holds trials. He was a big name in the ministry. Your mother was part of the Department of International Magic Co-Operation. Her whole job involved getting wizards and witches in other countries to work together. She played a big part in getting Durmstrang and Beauxbatons to come to Hogwarts this year for the Tri-Wizard Tournament. George’s father was also in the ministry but his job was practically the least important position there was. He spent his days finding Muggle items that had been tampered with and reporting them, even if he committed the same crime in his free time. He didn’t make much money at all and it left the family of nine struggling.

“Yeah, my dad has mentioned them a few times.” He tried not to sound bitter as he answered you but it was hard not to.

“They want me to join the ministry when I graduate. They made sure my grades were perfect and after taking my O.W.L.s, they hand picked my classes and set me on the path to join the ministry. My mother even signed me up for a summer program at the ministry just so I have a better chance at joining.” You took a deep breath and looked over at George. You had fresh tears in your eyes as you continued. “I don’t want to join the ministry. They have such high expectations of me and I don’t want to let them down but I don’t want to be in the ministry.”

“What do you want to do?” George understood where you were coming from. Him and Fred had plans and dreams to open a joke shop, something their mother did not support. She wanted them to finish school and get some boring job like the rest of the wizarding world. They didn’t want to disappoint her either but their happiness had to come first at least sometimes. George and Fred would never be happy sitting behind a desk all day or chasing down bewitched muggle items. They wanted to bring joy and raise up a new generation of delinquents. That was the dream.

“Well,” you started as you turned to look at the lake, “I think I want to be a healer. I’ve always been good at potions and herbology and basic spells used for healing.”

“And your parents don’t want you to do that?” As you shook your head, George scoffed. “Why? I think being a healer is a perfectly respectable job. You aren’t trying to run off and live in a cave for the rest of your life.”

You let out a small laugh and George felt like he was floating. He made you laugh after you had been crying. He could die happy. “I agree with you but they think that working for the ministry is the only job worth having. They just want me to be successful. They’ve spent my whole life preparing me for the future they want me to have. Dance lessons and internships and anything else that makes me into whatever it is they want me to be.”

“Happiness is more important than success. Who says that being happy doesn’t mean you’re successful?” George ran his fingers through the grass. “My mother sounds a lot like your parents. Fred and I want to open up a joke shop. She thinks that we’ll be throwing away our potential if we go ahead with it.”

You looked back at George and watched him closely as he kept his eyes on the ground. He was pretty. He had the warmest brown eyes you had ever had the pleasure of looking at. “I think a joke shop sounds like a wonderful idea. Personally I can’t imagine you or Fred working at the ministry or any normal job for that matter.” George laughed and nodded. “What will you do?”

He thought for a moment, continuing to look at the ground because he knew as soon as he looked at you, he would forget everything. “Fred and I are opening the joke shop when we have the money. I think our mother will be disappointed for a while but we aren’t made to work in an office. Besides, she’s our mother so our happiness should take priority over anything else.”

“I wish I could be like you George. You sound like you have everything.”

He turned his head to look at you so quickly he thought he snapped his neck at first. You thought he had everything? You were jealous of him? “I thought you had everything. A big house, rich parents, grades, popularity. You have everything.”

You shook your head and smiled at him. “Really? I always wanted a big family that would spend time together. You have always seemed so sure of yourself and confident. You don’t let anyone tell you what to do or who to be. George, you’re spontaneous and perfectly you. I wish I could be like that.”

George smiled as your eyes found his and then time stopped. He was distantly aware of the wind rustling the trees and the sounds of other students talking but all he could see was you. Your eyes, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. “Then let’s do something spontaneous.” With great effort, George tore his gaze away from you and looked around. The lake caught his eye. “Come swimming with me.”

He grabbed your hand and stood, pulling you to the lake until you stood at the edge. Without waiting for you, George ran into the water, dressed in jeans and his t-shirt. Behind him, you stood at the bank. Should you be doing this? Probably not but it would make you happy. George made you happy. It was time to put your happiness first. You took off after him, squealing at the cold water. “You didn’t say it was this cold!”

“I didn’t want it to scare you away.” George laughed, cupping his hand to launch water at you. The water slammed into you and with a harmless glare, you retaliated, sending your own wave of water at him. The two of you continued to splash each other until George held up his hands in defeat.

As you both caught your breath, George moved to sit on the bank, the water lapping at his feet. You took a seat next to him and bumped your shoulder against his. “What do you plan to do now?” He asked, bumping you back.

“I’m going to tell my parents I don’t want to be in the ministry. I’ll talk to my head of house about switching some courses around to get on the right path to becoming a healer.”

George smiled. “I’m proud of you.”

He looked at you and you looked at him. George saw you like no one else. He heard you complain about your parents and instead of siding with them, as most people did, he agreed with you. He thought your happiness mattered more than what your parents wanted. “Thank you George.”

“For what?”

“For listening, making me laugh, making me feel… human.” You leaned over and kissed his cheek before standing. “I should go write that letter to my parents. I wouldn’t want to lose all the nerve you gave me.”

George watched you go, his hand coming up to the spot where your lips had touched his cheek. His face turned red as he replayed the kiss over and over again. Fred and Lee were not going to believe this. They were going to kill him if he just let you walk away after that. He clambered to his feet and sprinted after him. “Y/N! Wait!” He waved his arms, trying to get your attention. You stopped in your tracks and looked back at him, watching him chase after you.

“Yes George?”

“I was… Well I was wondering if you’d like to go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend?” He held his breath, waiting for the rejection to come.

“I would love to. I’ll see you later Georgie.” With another kiss to his cheek, you walked off. Next Saturday couldn’t come fast enough.

#george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley fluff #fred weasley #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic

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primofate · 2 years

Text

Protective Lover Series Part 2 - His reaction to seeing you cry (and it’s not because of him) [Genshin Impact]

Characters: Aether, Albedo, Ayato, Bennett, Chongyun, Dainsleif, Diluc, Gorou, Heizou, Itto, Kaeya, Kazuha, Razor, Scaramouche, Tartaglia, Thoma, Venti, Xiao, Xingqiu, Zhongli, gn!reader

Warnings: slight angst, more comfort and fluff than anything, not proofread, i appreciate people telling me that i missed to tag a character but the truth is i dont tag all the chars cause i think i have limited tags, no? some protective genshin guys

Personal Favourites: Tartaglia, Xiao, Zhongli

Other works in this series: (Part 1 - When someone badmouths you)

Aether

his heart breaks the same way as yours, if not even more

doesn’t say anything at first but will take you in his arms silently and make comforting sounds, rubbing your back up and down

his priority is making you feel better first, instead of bombarding you with questions about what happened.

When you’ve calmed down a little he’ll start wiping your tears and will give you a gentle smile

“You can talk about it whenever you’re ready, Y/N. In this world and the next, I’ll always be here by your side,”

Albedo

Offers you a handkerchief and stays by you until you’re ready to talk about it.

When he sees that you’re clumsily wiping your tears he takes the handkerchief back and does it for you, patting your cheeks dry while he has a hand cradling your cheek.

The look on his face is sullen and downcast, as if he’s guilty he wasn’t able to protect you from whatever it was that made you feel this way.

He squeezes your hand and urges you to tell him what’s wrong.

“Strange. Tears are a normal human reaction to emotions...yet when I see yours, I can’t help but feel that they don’t belong on your features...”

Ayato

doesn’t look like he’s too bothered but is actually quite anxious inside. What happened? Did something transpire while he was away? Were you somehow affected by his status?

It comes with being busy all the time, he’s worried that he might not be taking care of you enough and seeing you cry hits hard for him.

hugs you protectively. One arm round your middle and the other gently pressing on the back of your head as you rest your face on his chest or the crook of his neck.

“I’m sorry, love. Never in your time with me do I wish to see tears of despair in your eyes... Please, if there’s something I can do, tell me,”

Bennett

panics

flounders and doesn’t know what to do. The let-me-check-my-pockets-if-i-have-any-tissue-welp-no-I-don’t-so-I’ll-wave-my-hands-around-to-try-and-make-them-feel-better character.

Ends up awkwardly putting both his hands on your shoulders and giving you a forced smile.

“I-It’s alright. Everything will be fine. I promise! We’ll fix it together, okay?”

Chongyun

is stunned by your tears. This may sound weird but he thinks that something about them is beautiful, despite it being sad. Kind of reminds him of snow crystals.

Holds your hand and lets you cry, being careful of if your mood is getting worse or better

is worried, but is patient and will never rush you to ‘stop crying’

is not very confident that he can make you feel better but will definitely try his best

“...Y/N? If it’s okay...Can you tell me what happened? I... I just don’t like seeing you sad...”

Dainsleif

Your tears are literally precious to him. Doesn’t matter if it’s happy or sad tears, both makes him feel a bit of sadness.

will let you curl up in his arms as he soothes you gently, occasionally wiping away tears that cascade down your cheeks.

will press some kisses on your forehead while waiting for you to mellow down.

Will look at you while wiping your tears and

“No one should ever make you feel this way, not me, nor anyone else... Tell me what happened, my star, and I assure you I’ll take the hurt away,”

Diluc

panic but on the inside. The instant ‘what happened?’ is written all over his face but doesn’t say it out loud immediately.

thinks you’re physically hurt, when he finds out you’re not, he’s even angrier cause something has upset you to the point of making you cry and he definitely wants to know what or who it is

cups your face in his hands and has a worried expression while watching your tears fall, trying to pat them dry gently.

is ready to go to war

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Did something happen? *sighs* I’m here, it’s alright. I’m not leaving...You’re my everything, do you understand that? If anything happens to you...”

Gorou

startled but is incredibly downcast when he realizes you’re crying and it shows with his ears flattened down and his tail unmoving.

Something about his instincts makes him press his forehead against yours and he closes his eyes while holding the two of you in position like that. He thinks it comforts him more than it comforts you, but he hopes it helps you too.

doesn’t quite know what to say, but will ask politely about your feelings.

“...Is everything okay? I-I’m not sure how to make things better but I’m always here to listen. I promise,”

Heizou

Wordlessly pulls you into a hug and rubs your back, hums a little tune or song to hopefully ease your crying.

already thinking about what could have happened while trying to comfort you.

pulls away and gives exactly two kisses on your cheek. one on the right and one on the left then proceeds to pat your face dry.

“My charming Y/N, I’ve got a good idea of what might’ve happened...Hm? How did I figure it out so fast? *chuckles* You underestimate me, dear. Your utmost happiness is easily the most important job on my list,”

Itto

Freezes. Kind of doesn’t know what to do when he sees someone crying (though he has made a lot of kids cry before >_> it’s different when it’s you)

Will offer you material things to try and make you feel better. Candy. Lollipop. His onikabuto.

When you tell him all you want is a hug he kind of melts on the inside but is also ridiculously proud.

Is still kind of concerned and is convinced someone has bullied you and will throw hands if that’s the case

“Well you’re in luck! I give the best hugs around here! Err... Only for you though. You sure you’re okay? Want me to go and teach ‘em a lesson?”

Kaeya

crestfallen. His usual grin has turned weak and he takes you by the hand, drags you over to the nearest chair or bed and pulls you onto his lap, cradling you in his arms as you cry.

validates your feelings and doesn’t make you feel stupid or weak for shedding tears.

let’s you cry for as long as you want and lets you rest your head on his shoulder, no matter how damp it gets.

Mostly talks to himself, but kind of talks to you as well during your process of calming down.

“...What exactly has upset my snowflake, I wonder? Someone I have to talk to? Something I have to take care of? Anything to bring the smile back on your face, love,”

Kazuha

takes you somewhere private or quiet. Comforts you first by sitting somewhere with you and letting you drape your legs over his lap while he cradles your upper half and shushes you gently.

Thinks you’re still incredibly attractive even when crying, but is also worried about your emotions.

Will talk to you about it and won’t push too much if you don’t feel like it yet.

While wiping your tears...

“Nothing will make me think any less of you, Y/N. This will pass, but whatever it might be, please let me do the honor of sharing your burdens with you.”

Razor

Instant hug and curls his body around you, literally in protection mode and not letting anyone else near you.

Conceals you from the rest of the world until you’ve calmed down in his arms.

He doesn’t look at your face because he’s on the lookout for anything or anyone who tries to approach you during a vulnerable time, but he knows you’ve calmed down when your breathing evens out

“...Y/N...will be okay...I will...protect,”

Scaramouche

freezes, but out of anger, not concern. Probably trying not to stomp out of there and demand his subordinates to tell him who made you cry.

Silently goes towards you and remarks/mumbles about how ugly you look when you cry, but he’s also wiping your tears.

Then tilts your still damp face up to look him straight in his murderous eyes. immediately goes to worst case scenario.

“Stop crying already and tell me who I have to kill,”

Tartaglia

cold. but not towards you. Cold because he’s thinking about how he’s going to make the offender suffer.

Towards you, he’s gentle and whispers comfort in your ear. Telling you that he’s here now and he’ll make it all better, but only if you tell him what happened, and only if you point out the specific people who made you unhappy.

Showers you with kisses down your jaw and up again, then presses two last ones on both your eyelids.

“Now which unfortunate soul do I have to talk to and take care of to make things better, my love? Don’t be shy now, I’ll take care of it real quick,”

Thoma

concerned. the type to approach you, hug you, rest his head on top of yours and gently or softly cradle/sway you side by side

it’s like a little slow dance but with less movements, hoping that it gives you more comfort, like a rocking chair type of thing.

it hurts him to see you cry and you can tell from his scrunched up brows and heavy facial expression.

Looks as if he’s about to cry as well.

“Whatever you feel, I feel it deeply too. When you’re happy and when your face lights up, my heart is at ease. But...seeing you this way...I didn’t think it would hurt me this much,”

Venti

still has a positive streak to him, but is mindful of your feelings.

The type to say things like you look better with a smile or that tears don’t suit you, or that he misses your smiling face but will also tell you that you still look charming, tears or not. That’s just how he sees you.

the type to squish your cheeks together and try to get a smile out of you

“Awe there it is. See? That smile’s much better!”

After he has cheered you up will ask you what it is that upset you and will tackle the problem with you.

“Hm... I see. In that case, you can’t do it alone! This is a job for the two of us. Let’s go and make things better, shall we?”

Xiao

shocked, then angry. He’s never seen you cry and you’re usually happy go lucky so when he sees you cry he thinks it’s a gravely serious thing.

despite that he still somehow doesn’t quite understand the purpose of tears. He knows what despair is but has the mindset that tears are not necessary, though he tries to understand how fragile humans are.

Will awkwardly stand in front of you while you cry, and later on will attempt to use one curled finger to brush away your cascading tears.

“...You humans...your resolves are too weak...too fragile, and yet...”

will pause for a seconds to continue to observe you cry. He acknowledges the twisting feeling in his chest.

“...and yet why does it make me feel this way, watching you weep?”

Xingqiu

surprised. will ask you to sit down and go through it calmly, will offer to do something for you: brew you tea, read your favourite book aloud.

Will ask you what he can do to make you more comfortable because he’d rather ask than do the wrong thing.

Will sit by you and rub your head and silently observe your mood.

will clear his schedule if there was anything on it.

“...Are you feeling better, Y/N? Would you like to stay here or go somewhere else? Take as long as you want, I have all the time in the world for you,”

Zhongli

calm but concerned. You can tell that he’s thinking about what might have gone wrong. At the same time, he’s trying to comfort you.

Ideally he’ll take you to bed and let you curl up against him while he rubs your back, letting you get all your emotions out before he starts asking you questions, though he already as a lot on his mind.

He lets you play with his hair, cause he knows that’s a kind of comfort for you.

Will lay with you in bed for a while, even after you’ve calmed down, just to give you time to think.

“...Beloved, whether or not it’s a joyous occasion or a sorrowful one, for as long as I live, my promise is to love you and to always be the pillar you can rely on. Today is no different. Would you like to talk about what happened?”

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#genshin headcanons #genshin fluff #genshin angst #heizou x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #ayato x reader #diluc x reader #xiao x reader #zhongli x reader #tartaglia x reader #kazuha x reader #childe x reader #kaeya x reader #bennett x reader #thoma x reader #scaramouche x reader #itto x reader #chongyun x reader

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gilverrwrites · 2 months

Note

Im back on my supernatural shit, can you please do TFW + Gabe and anyone else you wanna do reacting to finding out the reader had a dirty dream about them?

Author note: Me too Boo, me too. I added lucifer, just cause I wanted too. Hope you enjoy! I also switched things up with gifs for each instead of one image for everyone. Lemme know which one you guys prefer.

Rating: M/18+

Please remember: that it is enough to exist as you are.

Dean

You’ve never seen a bigger shit-eating grin in all your life; he looks like he hit the jackpot.

No matter how much or how little you tell him, he won’t stop making jokes or bragging how bad you want it.

Dean I need you t- “Yeah you do.” Stop it! “Bet you weren’t saying that in your dreams last night.” *Gesturing at something even remotely suggestive* “Hey hey hey, did we do that?”

He promises to stop if you give him the full run down.

And when you do, he’s like Christmas came early.

All wide eyes and dopy smiles, occasional blushing.

He’s got a million and one questions throughout, but the final and most is obviously: “You wanna go at the real thing?”

Sam

Immediate shuts down for like 5 minutes. His brain has to comprehend and then reboot.

He won’t joke or make fun of you, at least not in front of other people.

But as soon as you’re alone, he’s got questions, lots of detail-oriented questions.

He’s not outright asking what your dream was, just teasing you with meticulously detailed fantasies of his own posed as questions.

“Did I make you beg for it? Did you make me beg?” “Were you completely naked, stretched out underneath me? Were my hands around your throat?” “What did I say? Did I tell you I would ruin you? That you deserved it? Did you want me to?”

Castiel

Angels don’t dream. Primarily because they don’t sleep.

So, he’s not really sure what to make of this confession at first.

Queue the signature furrowed brow and head tilt.

“Why?” I don’t know, I didn’t do it on purpose! “That’s true. I suppose this is your mind’s subconscious way of informing you that you are sexually attracted to me."

Boy, he doesn’t beat around bushes.

He would need time to stew on it from there.

It could be hours, days, maybe weeks before he brings it up again.

“I am curious about your dream.” What dr- oh right. “I am flattered. Should you be willing, I would like to discuss this more. For example, which of us…”

Gabriel

You can sense the raised brows and the satisfied smirk before he even does it.

“Reeeeeally?”

Gabe’s reaction is very similar to Deans, just like a Trickster in a candy store.

Only he’ll wait to get you alone before he starts bombarding you.

If you won’t tell him outright, he’ll keep guessing.

And every new guess is accompanied by a costume and/or scenery change.

“Maybe we filmed the newest instalment of casa erotica?” “No? Maybe you paid Dr Sexy a visit?” “Mile high club?” “No? Kinkier? You into a little BDSM?”

I’ll let you fill in the visual blanks. 😉

Lucifer

His reaction is a lot more subdued.

That doesn’t make it any less dubious. You can feel the smugness radiating off of him.

He’ll ask earnestly enough to start out.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

When you refuse, he doesn’t push. Doesn’t joke, or tease.

But the smile he keeps giving you.

The way he watches you, totally engrossed but poised, is enough to drive you crazy.

When he finally asks again, later on, in that low, relaxed tone:

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me all about your dirty little fantasies?”

Temptation really is his game.

#supernatural reader insert #supernatural imagine #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #castiel x reader #spn gabriel x reader #spn lucifer x reader #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #spn gabriel #spn lucifer #gilverrwrites

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thursdaygxrls · 9 months

Text

thin ice — one

part one | part two | part three

summary — she didn’t handle the sports section of the campus newspaper, but apparently, she did this week. interviewing hockey players was easy, though—unless one of those players happened to be peter parker.

pairing — uni hockey player!peter parker x fem!journalist!reader

disclaimers — i don’t own peter parker. and pls don't come for me with the accuracy of this situation i'm begging

warnings — reader is referred to as ‘kitty’ (there’s a reason, i promise), slight one sided enemies to lovers, sewer slide jokes (very briefly), possible maybe slightly ooc, and very unedited

“You’re joking. You’re pulling the biggest prank I’ve ever seen, you are the impractical joker,” she huffs out, her eyes wide as furiously clicks her mouse, “I’m gonna die. I’m writing the note tonight—farewell, my lovely!”

“Woah, okay,” MJ, her roommate, had only just entered the room when she was bombarded with a sudden rant. She didn’t even have time to take down her ponytail of thin, red braids before her eardrums were assaulted.

“I mean it.” Spinning her chair, she meets MJ’s eyes.

“I literally just got here,” MJ plops down on the bed in front of the desk, “Care to tell me why you’re writing that note?”

“I’m a dumb, dumb girl, that’s why,” she groans in response.

“We already knew that.” MJ’s words only cause the girl in front of her to shoot daggers with her gaze; “Sorry, sorry. Why are you a dumb, dumb girl?”

“God, okay, so,” she lets out a loud sigh, “Eli is gonna be gone for the rest of the month—Europe or something, good for him. Anyways, they needed someone to cover his assignments for him until he gets back, and I volunteered, but, like, only to be nice, y’know? I did it as an obligation. But…”

“But?” MJ pressed.

“I just got an email, and it’s me,” she grumbled, “They’re putting me on Eli’s assignments.”

“Hm, I see,” MJ’s lips curl into a frown as she gently rubs the girl’s arm, “Too much work?”

“Oh, no, my stuff’s easy,” she waved her off, “Just reading the poetry submissions. I mean, it can be exhausting, but it’s not too bad.”

“Then what is it?” MJ cocks her head.

“Eli…Eli does sports,” she shuddered. MJ couldn’t contain the loud laugh that slipped out, clamping a hand over her mouth to stifle it.

“You’re worried about sports?” She giggles, her eyes twinkling.

“It’s not funny!” She smacks MJ lightly, “Sports aren’t unbearable or anything, but, like, why me? I don’t know enough! I’ll screw it up, I’ll lose my spot, they’ll stick me back in—”

“Relax,” MJ grabs her shoulders, bringing her closer, “First off, no, you won’t lose your spot, we both know they’d be losing their minds without you. Second, they wouldn’t just throw it on you if they thought you’d give them bad work, right?” She eyes MJ almost suspiciously. There’s a momentary stare-down before she relents.

“I hate that you’re right,” she sighs, spinning her chair around. MJ stops the spin by putting her hands down on the arms of the chair.

“Thought you’d be used to it by now,” she giggles, “So, what do you have to do?”

“I don’t know.” Is the mumbled reply.

“You didn’t even look?” MJ laughs again, “You were losing your mind, and you didn’t even know what you’re doing?”

“I’m sorry that I’m sensitive,” she huffs. Her gaze moves back to the laptop before her. The email is open on the screen, so she begins scrolling through it, MJ reading the words over her shoulder. Her eyes nearly bulge out of her head when she gets to the end.

“Fuck this,” she almost slams her laptop shut, but is stopped short by MJ.

“Slow down!” The redhead slaps her hand out of the way to read the rest of the email.

The ESU hockey team had made it to the NCAA Division I Men's Ice Hockey tournament for the first time in six years—and they were doing damn good. Eli had been tasked with interviewing the team captain as well as a few other star players, but, of course, it was no longer Eli's job.

"Oh, come on,” MJ rolled her eyes, “They gave you a Google Doc with questions, all you have to do is ask them and write down their response."

“That's the problem, I have to ask,” she shivered.

"You've done interviews before!" MJ was ready to smack her.

"With professors! And cool artsy people! Not hockey guys," she cringed, “I bet half of them are in a frat. They're probably gonna be assholes and tell me I have cooties."

“Are you twelve?” MJ groaned, “You sort of lucked out with this—half the work is already done for you! You don’t need to write up any questions!” A sigh left her lips as she took on a more comforting tone: “If it makes you feel any better, Harry is on the team.”

Ah, Harry. MJ had been seeing him for a little over a month by now. He wasn’t a bad guy at all. A little full of himself, but nice enough to talk to. Her eyes roved over the list of players she was set to interview. Sure enough, Harry Osborn was there. So was Miles Morales, who was described as an extremely promising freshman. Zack Coleson, who had the highest number of goals for the season. Last on the list was the team captain: Peter Parker.

“I can talk to Harry,” MJ offered, “I can let him know that it’s you doing the interviews. I’ll make sure he tells them to go easy on you—”

“No, no,” she shook her head, “That might make it worse. And they already know that it’s not Eli coming. Or they should, at least”

“You sure?” MJ quirked a brow, her features crinkling in a way that was only intelligible as concern.

“They’ll be walking on eggshells around me if they know I’m chickenshit, I won’t get a good interview,” she sighed. Even if the interview wasn’t what she wanted to do, she was going to have to. And she would do a good job—a great job.

“You got this, Kitty,” MJ squeezed her shoulders. The nickname pulled a smile from her, and she gave into MJ’s touch.

“We’ll see about that,” she relented. Her eyes traveled back to the computer screen. The interviews were scheduled two days from now at the Stark Memorial Rink.

“Hey, MJ,” she hummed, “Could you grab me my noose?”

The rink was colder than she expected. The empty stands provided no body heat, not to mention there was a literal sheet of ice on the floor. Tugging at the strap of her messenger bag, she took slow, careful steps to the plexiglass.

Clink.

Her eyes widened. There were around ten to fifteen guys in full gear out on the ice, and another ten to fifteen more on a bench near the glass or flitting around the edge of the rink. She was nervous, so she got there early. Now, she was stuck watching them practice.

Leaving was so tempting. She could go back to her dorm, or better yet, leave college entirely. She could just give up and fall off the grid, cut her credit cards, throw her phone in the ocean, sail off to Greece—

“Hello?”

She cursed the muffled voice that pulled her back into reality. Blinking, she found that standing before her was one of the very hockey players she’d seen skating on the rink before her. He was tall, and gear under his black and purple jersey made him appear far more bulkier than she theorized he was. He slipped his helmet off to reveal brown, curly hair that was drenched in sweat.

“Hi,” she replied, trying not to sound as nervous as he would. He cocked his head at her as he popped out his mouth guard.

“This is a closed practice,” he said, though, he didn’t sound all too upset that she was here.

“Oh, yeah, I know,” she nodded quickly, her fingers toying with the strap of her bag again, “I’m a bit early, I’m supposed to be interviewing some people on the team. I’m—”

“Kitty?” She was interrupted by the sound of a voice as well as skates scraping across the ice. Glancing past the guy in front of her, she saw Harry slide off the ice and clomp to benches where they currently were.

“Hey, Harry.” Her lips were screwed up in a tight grin. He’d heard MJ call her Kitty once, and now it was the only thing he’d refer to her as.

“Kitty?” Mystery guy repeated the name with a hint of intrigue.

“It’s not my real name, my friends just call me that,” she shook her head.

“What’re you doing here?” Harry asked, swinging an arm around the shoulder of the guy in front of her.

“I’m Eli’s replacement,” she explained, trying to plaster a friendly smile to her lips, “I’m doing the interviews.”

“Aw, shit, why didn’t MJ tell me we got the cool Kitty-cat on the case?” Harry grinned.

“Could you try to never say those words again? Really hated it, thanks,” her nose crinkled.

“You got it.” He tried to point finger guns at her, but with the thick gloves on, it just looked like he was pointing his whole hand.

“Hey,” he started up again, “You’re a little early, so practice isn’t over yet, but we’re almost done. It’s just the four of us, right?”

“Right,” she nodded in response. It was a relief that they’d been briefed on the situation.

“Alright, well, I’m Harry, obviously, Miles and Zack are on the ice somewhere, and this right here—” Harry jostled the shoulders of the Mystery guy, “—is Peter. Oh captain, my captain!”

Peter chuckled as Harry clapped him on the back. The noise that emanated from the friendly hit was harsh, but Peter didn’t move a muscle.

“Right,” she nodded, “So, I figured we could do them individually? There’s some sort of specific questions for each of you.”

“Sounds good, Kitty,” Harry replied. She’d smack him if he said that name again.

“Sit tight for a bit,” Peter spoke up. Even with the stubble on his chin, his smile gave him a boyish appearance. He looked her up and down quickly, “We can try to wrap up practice early.”

'A bit' ended up feeling like forever. At first, she tried to distract herself with her phone, but it didn't work: she would open apps, scroll through them, then close them just to reopen them over and over again. So she organized her bag, which took about five minutes. Time seemed to tic by in a tauntingly slow manner. It was only when she saw a few of the players emerge from the locker room did she let out a breath of relief. She immediately sucked that breath back when she realized that she would actually have to talk to some of them.

Harry went first. It was easy enough to go through the questions with him. It was like talking to an over-eager relative at a family reunion, one who was just dying to talk about all the new things they're doing. Miles wasn't all that bad to interview, either. He was a lot more nervous than she was. His awkward pauses and constant strings of 'um' and 'uh' was almost comforting. Then came Peter.

"Kitty," he grinned as soon as he saw her seated on the bench next to the rink. He no longer wore his gear—just a hoodie and a pair of gray sweats. His hair, however, was still wet and tousled. She gave him a tight lipped smile in return.

"That's not my name," she replied. Before she had time to properly introduce herself, his raspy chuckle was already echoing through the open arena.

"You said that's what your friends call you, right?" He cocked his head as he sat down on the other edge of the bench.

"You're not—” If she could just make it through the interview without fuss, she'd be one person away from being free, "—right. That's what my friends call me."

"I'm going to be recording this, just so I can reference it later," she explained almost monotonously.

"This isn't my first time," he responded with another light laugh. She had to physically bite her tongue to fight off any comments. A soft click sounded from her phone as she started a new voice memo. Her eyes scanned the list of questions on the page before her. Some she'd already asked to Harry and Miles: How does it feel to make the tournament? What is the atmosphere of the team right now? She chose a fresh question to start with.

"What's it like to be the captain of this team? Are you proud? Overwhelmed?" She asked, her voice taking on a new tone closer to a news anchor than a regular person. Peter's lips curled up at the change.

"I'm proud, yeah," he nodded, his voice smooth, "This is a great group. But we all work our asses off, so I'm not surprised by how far we've come. Being their captain is really something."

"And—"

"Do you normally do sports? For the paper, I mean." Before she could even get her next sentence out, he interrupted her. Her grip on the papers in her hand tightened.

"No, not normally," she grit out, "And going along with your thoughts on being captain, what about making it to the tournament this year?"

"It's the best feeling in the world. It's something I've been chasing after for years now, finally getting to it is just...sort of indescribable." Even when his tone is nothing but sincere, he can't wipe the cocky grin from his lips.

"I can imagine," she smiled tautly in reply, "What was it like working your way up to captain? Was it a personal journey, or did you get support from the team?"

"I'd say it was an even mix of both," he hummed, "Do you like hockey?"

"What?" She furrowed her brows.

"Are you a hockey fan?" He reiterated, "Because our next game is home, and it's sort of packed, but I could get you some tickets assuming you don't have some already—"

"No—Peter," she let out a frustrated huff, tapping on her phone to momentarily pause the recording, "This is an interview, not social hour."

"Aren't interviews inherently social?" His smirk was infuriating.

"I mean that I ask the questions, you answer them," she grumbled, "Do you act like this with Eli? Are you not taking me serious because I'm a woman?"

"What?" His smirk fell immediately, "What? No—no. I'm taking you seriously, I take women very seriously. I'm all for women. They're great."

"Then can we just do this interview and get it over with?" She sighed, her finger hovering over the unpause button. He nodded, but before she could resume the interview, he quickly added: "But do you want tickets?"

Ignoring the question, she carried on. Peter seemed to mellow out after a while and didn't interrupt again. It was almost surprising how well he'd listened: he was giving her real, insightful answers to her questions without a hint of flirtation. The final interview with Zack flowed easily, and she fled Stark Memorial Rink as quick as she could.

Transcribing the interviews was the easiest part. Days later, she would be hunched over her computer in the darkness of her shared dorm, playing and replaying the recordings and typing out the words onto the screen. Her concentration was briefly interrupted, though, when the door opened and a stream of light threaded its way through the room and onto the back of her head.

"Light bad!" She slapped her hands over her eyes, "Light very bad!"

"You're gonna go blind if you keep staring at your computer in the dark," MJ spoke in a warning tone, but ultimately closed the door.

"Then blind I must go," she sighed, swiveling on her chair to look at her roommate, "How was class?"

"Normal," MJ shrugged, sliding her bag off her shoulders, "But I have a little something for you."

"Something for little ol' me?" She gasped in dramatized delight.

"Yes," MJ grinned widely as her hand reached for the zipper of her bag, "Close your eyes."

She obliged immediately, her nose scrunched in anticipation, "I hope it's a million dollars. Is it a million dollars? Am I close?"

"Almost," MJ giggled. After a moment of anticipation, MJ gently grabbed her hands and place something into them. It was thin and papery and rectangular. Opening her eyes, she looked down to see a white envelope with 'Kitty' written out on the front. Her brows furrowed at the unfamiliar handwriting.

"Is there a check for a million dollars inside?" She asked as she cocked her head.

"No clue, it's not from me," MJ shrugged.

"Then who's it from?" Her fingers slid under the lip of the envelope.

"Harry gave it to me to give to you," MJ grinned, "He said it's from Peter."

She should've sailed to Greece when she had the chance. Inside the envelope were two tickets—Empire State University versus Pennbrook University this Saturday at seven. A long groan left her lips before she finally met MJ's eyes.

"You never got me that noose I asked for."

a/n — not sure how i’m feeling abt this one guys. hockey peter has been causing me brain rot tho so i couldn’t help myself.

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raynehmms · 3 months

Text

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

You wake up out of your sleep, just getting to bed after your long ass shift at Chili’s. “There’s no way” you roll your eyes as you answer your phone, your best friend’s name displaying. “I can tell you were rolling your eyes.” She squints her eyes at you, “Yeah cuz u were on a date what happened?” You laugh lightly your red silk bonnet eliminating in the light of your phone. She rolls her eyes at the question. “First of mind yours.” You laugh and sit up in your silk lined blanket falling off your body to your waist. “Ill mind mine when you actually get somewhere. How long have you been moping round bout a nigga that cheated on you?? I love you but this has to stop. Like immediately.” You stare into her eyes and watch as she looks down her eyebrows furrowed as tears threaten to prick her eyes. “And don’t you start crying again, go take a shower and go to bed I’ll call you tomorrow okay?” She sniffs a little “you right I’ll talk to you later byeee” you hang up the phone and put it on the charger falling back asleep. You wake up a little late, realizing that you rush to get up, having the opening shift after closing was hard as hell but you need the money so…who are you to complain? You take a quick shower and throw on a fresh uniform rushing out your house and damn near sprinting to your bus stop making sure not to miss the bus.

Couple hours later…

“Y’all niggas need to hurry up fo I leave y’all ass.” Ony says closing his car door. “You ain’t gon leave us.” Connie laughs. “Wanna bet?” Ony adjusts his hat and sunglasses as walks up to the Chilis , the rest of the group following behind. Adorning the same hat and glasses as he did. The bell jingles above the door as they walk in immediately getting bombarded with noise of families and waitresses rushing around the busy restaurant. “Hi how many people?” You say not looking up from the tablet In front of you already hearing the jingle. “Uhh 5 people, can we get a table away from people.” He lowers his head, his hat coving the view of his face. “”Weirdo”” you think, “well right now we are kind of busy so it’ll be hard for me to find a table away from people.” You look up at him and sigh, the tines from working to closing the previous night and opening this morning were hitting you like a truck. “We have a table it’s not clean right now but as soon as it is I’ll let you know. Can I get a name and number?” You look at him. “Uhhh well just go to table right now and you can clean it when we get over there.” You scoff, “that’s not my job sir, but whatever you like.” You shrug your shoulders and grab 5 menus and walk them to a dimly lit table in the corner of the restaurant. “I’ll be back give me a minute please.” You walk away as they sit down and ask the busser to clean the table and let the waiter know you sat a group in their section. You walk back up to the hostess booth, in the process walking past their table. “Aye can we get some water over here??” Connie yells a little. “Aye shit the fuck up, you the reason we got caught last time.” Jean rolls his eyes. You sigh and walk back over to them. “Sure by waiter will be with you shortly, anything else.” Annoyance lacing your tone. “Damn she fine asf.” Jean whispers just enough for you to hear making you roll your eyes. It also causes most of the group to look up at you. Ony’s eyes widened before settling back in the street outside. He speaks up. “Nah that's it, I wouldn't want to waste yo time.” You huff as you walk away walking to the waitress in that section, Aj. “Can you get table 14 some water so they can stop bothering me?” “You okay?” She asked, concerned. “Yea my head hurts a little, I’ll be ight almost time for me to go anyways.” You walk away and go back to the hostess area, sitting there doing nothing to your relief besides saying bye to the passing customers that are leaving the restaurant. After 2 hours or so you finally see the last group before you clock out and walk towards the hostess desk, Ony stopping before he walks out. “My bad for all the bs they be on. Can I get yo number? Maybe I can repay you or sum?” You laugh sarcastically. “Nah you good, have a nice night though.” You gesture towards the door not looking up, and clocking out via the tablet in front of you. And you walk away.

To clock out and grab your coat and bag from the locker, locking it after and walk out the staff entrance looking up at the bright sun as you slip your headphones into your ear and plug them into your phone playing the same playlist you’ve listened to since you were in middle school, and take out a pre roll you’ve had in your small ouch you keep in your bag for times of feeling down and drained like now. You walk to an abandoned park near your house and light your blunt while sitting on a bench away from the eye of people.

As you inhale you think of all the things that frustrated you that day, causing you to clench you unoccupied hand in anger, as you exhale you let it all go, realizing you have so much left of your day to be dwelling on stupid people with bland taste buds, you would know, you’ve tried the food at your job and to say there was no black people as cooks was obvious due to the unseasoned food they gave you. You put the blunt to your lips and continue smoking, not paying attention to the nature surrounding you, in your own world waiting for the bad memories to become numb to you, and the blissfulness to take over.

Word count: 1058

A/N- FIRST CHAPTER ngl I did take some inspiration from a Wattpad book I read a couple weeks ago cuz it was stuck in my head but nothing is completely direct (strike out by AMPj101 on wp)

#black reader #onyankopon x black reader #onyankopon x black y/n #onyankopon fluff #onyankopon x reader #aot onyankopon #black yn #fanfic #spotify #aot x black reader #aot x reader #aot x y/n #aot x female reader #aot x black y/n #aot x poc!reader

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sheluvv-gambino · 10 months

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“Huh, you sound British.”

pairings : e-42 miles morales x black fem!reader

summary : Being a new student is already hard, just imagine being British in high school within Brooklyn.

warnings : I put a slash between the difference of American and British words so no one is confused since I’m not actually American myself.

part 2

Switching from an English secondary school to an American high school was not something that you could say you were actually excited for.

But yet here you are sitting in your mothers car listening to ‘Bonfire’ by Childish Gambino, trying not stress over being in a totally new environment.

“Okay, we’ve arrived.” Your mum/mom said rubbing the back of your shoulder.

“I’m gonna go now, I love you.” You sigh.

“I love you too but get your arse out this car so your not late please!”

You laugh whilst unbuckling your seatbelt and getting out of the car walking towards the entrance.

Once you enter your immediately overwhelmed with the amount of loud new accents filtering the air. I mean sure you had been in New York for a few days before being introduced to the school but that doesn’t mean you were used to the variety of accents.

Making your way towards the principals office you ended up lost and having to scout the help of one your new peers.

Looking to your left you spot a fairly handsome guy with two cainrows/cornrows going down his neck, sharp jaw, and very plumed lips.

Damn, guess NYC ain’t that bad after all.

Tapping his shoulder you timidly ask “Sorry to disturb you but do you think your could show me to the principals office.”

He looked you up and down for a good thirty seconds before his focus finally set on your face.

“Huh, you sound British.”

“I mean I am from London.” You deadpan.

“Sure I’ll take you, c’mon.”

He takes off swiftly leaving you trailing behind him.

Once you finally reach the principals office

he stops and looks you dead in the eye tilting his head which ultimately makes you cast your gaze down to the floor.

“I’m Miles but I never caught your name.”

You look up and end up locking eyes.

“I’m Y/N” You smile downward.

“We’ll Y/N ion know much about British people but I hope we can get to know each other a bit more…”

And with that he walked away leaving you at the door of the principal.

Now all you have to is KNOCK.

————————

Getting halfway through the day was particularly easy except from the bombardment of questions from people you don’t even know.

Asking things about Britain like you were the Queen (R.I.P Queen Lizzy) It was like they had never heard of Google before.

Fortunately a group of girls adopted you into their circle and you were currently sitting with them at lunch.

“So how’s your day been except y’know all the weird questions?” One girl asks with a chuckle.

“We’ll it’s been a bit annoying relearning the stuff I’ve already done which by the way don’t you think it’s a bit weird that you guys do algebra for like a whole year. In England once we finish a topic we move onto the next.” You ramble with a sigh.

“Eh I mean I guess but it’s not anything new for us. Anyways since being here, have you caught your eye on anyone yet?” Another girl answers and questions.

“We’ll there was this one guy but I haven’t spotted him again since he dropped me off at the Principal’s.”

Some girls squeal in excitement at a new potential crush to gossip about.

“He was quite fit actually and he had these two braids going down. He gave a really good conversation on the way their actually.” You finish off going back to your food nonchalantly.

There must be a shift in the air because the table of girls stopped talking until someone pipes up.

“Your not talking ‘bout Miles Morales are you?!” She squeaks with widened eyes.

“We’ll yeah he said his name was Miles but he didn’t give his surname/lastname.”You start to nod.

“No way! Girls have been trying to get with him ever since we got to the school but he’s always cold and quiet around people who aren’t his friends. Girl you are so lucky.” She blurts out.

“We’ll I’m sure he was just being nice, I mean I am new.” You defend.

And with that Miles Morales walks past your table trailing behind his friends he gives a smirk and waves towards you.

Yeah, I guess you are lucky…very lucky!

#across the spiderverse #earth 42 miles #earth 42 miles fluff #earth 42 miles morales x black!reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles g morales #prowler miles #spiderverse

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beep-function · 4 months

Text

Afterglow

“You know I won’t stop till you give in to me.”

It’s a late summer afternoon and it’s laundry night. Life has been hectic and to have some control in it you decided to at least have some laundry done. Work has been stressful, moving to a new place too..but along with it all is Jeongguk.

He’s technically your roommate, as he decided to rent out a room in his home and you’ve been living with him for a couple of months now. Unknowingly, you’d find that Jeongguk was looking for someone to spend his plentiful time with and to entertain him.

“I’m too tired Jeongguk, not this time.” “Just hear me out-“

You let him continuously rant of his plans for something,

you’re used to his rambling and storytelling that honestly goes on way longer than it should. The feeling of tiredness has been weighting on you since 4 hours ago so you’re really just not in the mood to be socializing or anything right now.

“-said that I spend too much time alone and that I’m not getting any younger and that I should at least be seeing someone but-“

You tuned back into his rambling, his eyes and body animating his words but you stopped his rant.

“Why don’t you date someone? You definitely have the time.”

Jeongguk’s eyebrows furrowed a bit, nose scrunched as if he heard something absolutely absurd.

“Well, he already knows I only like-“

He paused, eyes fluttering as he processed his words and just to widen as he catches your gaze. Waiting for his response with an eyebrow raised for him to go on, his arms drop down his sides and face flushed.

“Forget what I was just about to say, it was not important so PLEASE do not ask me ha ha ha….”

He pushes his way forward and continued your load of laundry, adding towels to the washer. You watched him but remembered from earlier.

“By the way, what were you asking from me? You didn’t say it.”

Starting the machine he turns slowly, his back to the machine and pushes himself to sit onto of the machine. Conflicted he breathes and continues.

“So. It’s kinda sorta a favor I need from you…”

You signal with a wave of your hand for him to let it out. He sighs with tense shoulders and nervously picks at his skin.

“Okay so, jin hyung was planning his anniversary party and he’s inviting our other hyungs to come and I know they’re going to be bombarding me with questions on my life and what I’ve been up to and blah blah blah and I just….I want you to come with me as if you’re dating me.”

You were turned away from him as you’re folding your clothes but with his proposal you turned to look at him. He flinches while you turned as if he wasn’t ready to face you.

“B-but please!! I know you said that, um you’re not dating right now because you’re too busy with life and all but this is really really really important to me!! And you’re like the only person I could have asked this and made it look natural! It would just be one night and honestly it would be good for us!! You know like a bonding with us, keeps us strong together and our home life healthier!!! Please!!”

He jumps off the machine and crowds closer to you, stopping you from continuing the laundry.

“I-I’ll cook for you…clean your room! U-Uh share my skincare? Honestly we already do that but still! Just this once!”

He huffs with his arms out, stressing with need of this favor. You hold a hand out on his chest, keeping some distance from him as he had gotten extremely close from his feud.

“Mmm….maybe”

He brightens a bit and his arms raise up.

“But-“

He dims.

You push him with your fingers to a seat, he’s staring up at you, face rosy and shyly stares.

“I won’t go easy on you Jeongguk. Don’t start something you can’t handle..”

He gulps in his seat and fiddles with his jacket sleeves a bit.

“S-so is that a yes?”

You look up from where you were removing the dried clothes, piling into your basket.

“ it’s a yes but you’re going to help me finish this laundry.”

Bouncing up off his seat and giving a wobbly smile he joins your side and starts folding your laundry with you.

#jungkook x reader #bts scenarios #idk what this one it I thought it was cute to do silly jk

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stellar-constellations · 2 months

Text

Star Patient: Chapter 3 (ONGOING SLOW BURN SERIES)

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

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

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

Incest is not Wincest.

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

Wordcount: 8,650 words (a big chapter since the next chapter will take some time to complete).

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, current chapter, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6 (in the works)

Andrew’s brain surgery to drain the excessive blood was a success! Andrew felt loopy from all the twilight anesthesia they injected into him so he was asleep during the surgery, but he’s no longer suffering from double-vision, maybe soon he can start remembering things again.

Andrew locked his wheelchair in place and refused to move from the hallway. He was dead set on waiting for (Y/N). Any nurse or doctor that tried to come near him to bring him back to his room (or get him out of the way) would be slapped away and assaulted with the most vile curse words that would make a nun have a heart attack. Whenever Andrew heard footsteps coming, he’d look over, eyes sparkling in excitement, before dropping once noticing it wasn’t in fact (Y/N).

Another set of footsteps could be heard walking down the hallway. Andrew looked over and resisted the urge to smile or seem excited that she came.

“Hi, Andrew! Sorry I’m late. I was watching the infants until the NNP came back.” (Y/N) explained.

God, he loved how she said his name. Did it have to do with how damn cute she was, or was her voice really just that enchanting?

“How do you feel? Tired? Dizzy? Loopy? Hungry? Thirsty?” she questioned, bombarding him with questions.

“Mm.” Andrew shrugged his shoulders, resisting the urge to wince, but failing.

“Oh, does your head hurt?" (Y/N) questioned. "Oh, well obviously it must! You had surgery!” she commented, realizing how stupid her question was.

“It just hurts a bit…” Andrew muttered.

“Let’s get you back to your room, then I’ll give you some painkillers.” She spoke.

Andrew unlocked his wheelchair and started rolling away without (Y/N)’s help, stopping in front of her with a pointed stare glare as if to say “are we leaving yet?”

“Oh! You got the hang of it. Good job, Andrew!” (Y/N) praised, causing him to advert his eyes and huff.

“It’s not a big deal… It's a pretty easy thing to learn.” Andrew explained, ignoring how his heartbeat increased.

“Aw, don’t be like that. You did it all on your own in only a few minutes, and you learned how to turn the wheel! That’s impressive!” (Y/N) smiled, only causing Andrew’s face to get more red.

“Are you done?” Andrew huffed.

“Okay, okay. Let’s get going.” She chuckled. “Follow me.”

Andrew didn’t exactly trust her sense of direction, especially considering earlier’s wild goose chase, but Andrew didn’t mind getting lost with her—it meant he got to spend a little extra time with her.

“Before we go to your room, do you mind if I make a quick stop to a friend?” she questioned as they entered the elevator together.

A friend? Andrew thought, a sore and red hot bubble starting to simmer in his chest. Who the hell is it?

“Her name is Hailey. She has cancer so please be nice to her. She doesn’t have many visitors anymore so maybe you two could be friends!” (Y/N) cheered, excited at the possibility of the two of them getting along as she pressed the second floor button.

At least it’s a girl. Andrew thought, the bubble of jealousy losing its fire-like temperature, but still having a bit of flame to it.

They exited the elevator when the doors opened and strolled down the hallway, (Y/N) stopping at a door and knocking on it.

“Come in.” A girl, Hailey, spoke.

She opened the door, keeping it open for Andrew to wheel his way in before she shut the door behind them.

“Hey, Hails. I have a friend of mine I’d like you to meet. He might have a grumpy face, but he’s nice when you get to know him.” (Y/N) teased.

Andrew shot her an unimpressed glare as he looked at her, before redirecting his attention to Hailey.

“Hi…” he muttered, not quite interested in the conversation.

“Hello…” she whispered shyly.

With how long it’s been since she’s socialized with anyone except the nurses, she’s most likely insecure of her appearance. This is a good opportunity for her to re-learn how to make friends and have confidence, and now Andrew has someone he can visit and talk to when I’m off of work. She thought to herself.

“Andrew, this is Hailey. Hailey, this is Andrew. I hope you both can be good friends.” (Y/N) introduced, a smile on her face.

Fat chance. Andrew thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

They both stared at each other awkwardly before (Y/N) spoke up.

“So, Hailey. How is the book so far?” she questioned.

“I’m interested in it. I don’t understand why Nora wants to die though.” Hailey spoke.

“Oh, I see.” She nodded. “This is one of my favorite books to recommend. After reading it, it really makes you look at life in a different perspective. Nora wants to die because she lacks happiness, or fulfillment, in her life. She hasn’t found a motive in her life to carry on because she’s so caught up in her own burdens and feelings.”

“But why is she sad? She gets to go outside and live.” Hailey questioned, genuinely confused.

Nora has what Hailey doesn’t, and Nora’s taking it for granted. (Y/N) thought to herself, understanding what Hailey means.

“Do you want a simple definition or the long one? Like, science or no science.” (Y/N) questioned, taking a seat on Hailey's bedside Andrew silently huffing and glaring as she did so.

“No science.” Hailey smiled.

Hailey prefers subjects that are sugarcoated, they’re much easier to understand. She is ten, so (Y/N) supposes that's understandable.

“Well, Nora is missing something in her life, but she doesn’t know what it is yet. Everyone is made differently. She is sad because she doesn't have anymore passions in her life because she never stuck to pursuing them, and she felt like she couldn’t confide in anyone.” (Y/N) explained. "Humans are social creatures, we need communication and care from others in order to functional normally. Nora doesn't have that, or at least, she has very little of it."

“So Nora wants to die because she doesn’t know what she’s missing and she's alone?” Hailey questioned.

“In a way, yeah.” (Y/N) nodded. “Because she’s so sad, she’s not even trying to live the life she was given. When people are as sad as Nora, they don’t eat or shower or take care of themselves because it all feels meaningless.”

Why does that sound familiar? Andrew thought to himself.

“I understand now.” Hailey nodded.

“Andrew, do you like books?” (Y/N)questioned, the two girls directing their attention towards him.

“I’m not too sure. I don’t read much.” Andrew answered.

“Maybe you just haven't found a good book yet. What genre movies do you like?" (Y/N0 questioned.

Movies? He just watched whatever was on the TV when he was locked in that apartment, but he was so hungry that he didn't have the willpower to actually focus on what was on the screen half the time.

"I don't know... anything really..." Andrew mumbled.

"Let's find a book genre you like! We'll start with Hailey." (Y/N) smiled. "Hailey, do you have any suggestions for him to read?"

"Maybe... The Outsiders?" Hailey suggested at a moment of thought, a bit hesitant but starting to warm up just slightly with the new presence in the room.

But what about your special pick for me you said you'd give? Andrew complained inside his head.

"The S.E. Hinton one?" (Y/N) questioned.

"Yes." Hailey smiled.

"Oh, that's a good one. My favorite character was Sodapop." (Y/N) commented.

"I liked Darry. He was smart and cool." Hailey chimed in.

"What about the book you wanted to show me earlier? The one specifically picked out for me for when I get out of surgery?" Andrew questioned, not exactly caring if it sounded rude to reject Hailey's suggestion.

"Oh! Yeah. The book is called Eye of the Minds by James Dasher. He made the Maze Runner series if you had seen the movies." (Y/N) explained. "It's a sci-fi. I figured we could give that a try and see if you enjoyed it."

"I remembered when you showed me that book! The main protagonist was funny." Hailey commented.

Andrew briefly wondered how long these two spent together everyday. The more he thought about it, the more he started to get jealous again. By now his headache was subsiding while his anger just grew.

I never thought I'd be jealous at a little kid... he thought to himself. ...Why even am I jealous?

"(Y/N)..." Andrew sighed, succeeding in gaining the nurse's attention. "My head still hurts and I'm tired." He spoke.

"Oh! I'm sorry, Andrew. I was excited to hear Hailey's input to the book. I didn't mean to neglect you." (Y/N) spoke, immediate guilt forming in her chest as a frown drew on her face.

I didn't mean to make her feel bad... Andrew thought to himself, resisting the urge to sigh.

"I'll see you later, hails. I'm going to take Andrew back to his room. I'll make sure to visit before leaving today." (Y/N) spoke, waving to Hailey as she opened the door for her and Andrew.

"Okay." Hailey nodded, returning the nurse's wave as she watched them leave and shut the door behind them.

"I didn't mean to ignore your pain, Andrew. I'm a bit of a scatterbrain, but that's no excuse." (Y/N) sighed, walking with Andrew to the elevators.

"It's okay. You didn't mean it..." Andrew murmured.

"I won't do it again." She promised, a smile on her face as she and Andrew made it to the elevators and got an open one, walking into it.

She pressed the fourth floor button and waited for the elevator to go. Even if she was growing to enjoy Andrew's company, she did feel a little uneasy being in the same elevator as him all alone.

"So, Andrew. Do you have any favorite shows?" she questioned, trying to make small talk.

"..Huh?" Andrew voiced, confused on where that came from.

"I'll be seeing you pretty often now. I want us to build a connection." She explained. "A good way to do that is finding out each other's likes and dislikes."

Andrew huffed, ignoring the warmth in his chest that her confession made him feel. They walked out of the elevator and down the hallway, stopping at the staff's room.

"I don't really like anything." Andrew admitted.

"I refuse to believe that. We'll find something!" she smiled, determined. "Wait here a second." She instructed, pulling her lanyard from out of her shirt and grabbing her keys, unlocking the staff door.

"Hi, Penelope." (Y/N) greeted once seeing the female present.

"Ah. Hello, (Y/N)!" Penelope cheered, her strawberry blonde hair swaying as she stood up from her seat. "How was patient 402? Did he-" she looked behind (Y/N) and made an "eek!" sound, backing up.

"Don't worry about him, just taking him back to his room. I had to grab painkillers first though." (Y/N) spoke, unlocking the medicine cabinet grabbing a pill bottle of ibuprofen and a bottle of water.

She grabbed a napkin and opened the pill bottle, putting two small tablets on the cloth. She walked over to Andrew with the napkin and water.

"Here, Andrew." She spoke, gently grabbing Andrew's hand and placing the pills in his palm.

He accepted it and put them in his mouth without any hesitation. (Y/N) opened the water and tilted his head up, bringing the water bottle to his mouth, just in case he couldn't hold it on his own because of the weakening limbs from the surgery's sedation. He took greedy sips before tapping her hand, allowing her to move the bottle and screw on the lid.

"There you go." She cooed. "Good job."

Why is she so much better at this job than me? She's a student! Why is my patient so trusting of her? Penelope thought. Aw, they look like such a couple! They're both so attractive too! This is too embarrassing!

Instead of doing what Penelope was thinking, she just spoke her mind.

"W-wow..." Penelope muttered, utterly confused, shocked, and a bit flustered.

"What?" (Y/N) questioned, turning to look at the young nurse.

"Ack! Nothing!" she exclaimed, her face red as she covered her eyes with her hands.

"Pen, are you feeling okay?" (Y/N) questioned, taking some steps towards Penelope. "Did you get enough sleep? Do you need food? Water?-"

"N-no thanks!" she shouted, her face growing even redder at the thought of (Y/N) tilting her head and nursing her with a water bottle instead.

Andrew understood immediately what was happening as he watched the two interact.

Damn that nurse... Andrew thought to himself, glaring daggers at Penelope from behind (Y/N)'s shoulder.

(Y/N) jumped, moving back a little, completely dazed and confused as she looked at the nurse.

THAT'S SO EMBARRASSING! Penelope screamed instead her head, resisting the urge to curl up in a ball and scream her heart out.

Penelope has a problem with loving people too much. It's one of the reasons she became a doctor, to find someone in need and nurse them with her medicine and love. Unfortunately, she's a very shy person and stresses too easily, so her bursts of lovesickness can sometimes be too much for her heart and mind (it's one of the reasons Ruby from day shift can't stand her).

"Okay...?" (Y/N) spoke, hesitantly. "If you need any help, call me. Okay?"

Penelope nodded quickly and spoke, quick to have the pair leave. "I understand! Bye now!"

Penelope shoved (Y/N) out of the room (Andrew just about ready to stand up and fight her, if it could walk, that is). Penelope locked the door behind them both as (Y/N) looked back, confused.

"Huh, that's a little more of a panic attack than usual..." (Y/N) muttered to herself. "Okay, Andrew! Let's get you to your room." She smiled, acting as if nothing happened.

(Y/N) walked down the hallway and grabbed a security guard that was stationed nearby, having them pick up Andrew and place him in his bed since she wasn't strong enough (she worked with picking up kids, not adults).

"Alright, Andrew. You're probably really tired after your surgery. I'll leave you be." (Y/N) explained, watching as the security guard left.

Just before she leaves, Andrew spoke up.

"Will you be back later?" Andrew questioned, hesitant as he hid his flustered face by turning his head to the side, away from her view.

"Of course! You can't get rid of me that easy, ya know?" she smiled.

"Great..." Andrew sighed, not-so-sarcastically as he wished.

"Oh, before I leave. Make sure you're behaving with the other nurses, they're only trying to help you." (Y/N) lightly scolded.

I don't want their help. I want yours... Andrew thought to himself, resisting the urge to grimace at her words.

“Ah, and before I forget too!” she gasped, reaching into her medical back and grabbing a book. “This is a sci-fi dystopian. You might like it! If not, no worries. We’ll find a genre for you.” She spoke, placing the book on his nightstand. “Don’t worry about reading it right now. Just sleep.”

Andrew looked at the book, then her, before nodding.

(Y/N) left the room and shut the door behind her, letting out a sigh.

What do I do now? she thought to herself. Today feels so slow... I guess I can go back to the clinic and see what Doctor Ryan's doing. Or maybe I should go check on Penelope? She was panicky today.

(Y/N) decided to check out Penelope and see what's up with her. (Y/N) is aware of Penelope's random bursts of lovesick confessions (Penelope has gotten into too much trouble with HR because of it, so everyone in the hospital knows about it), but (Y/N) had never really seen it take ahold of her that bad. Usually Penelope resorts to compliments (and light stalking), not full on shutting her brain down and panic.

Did she find a new crush? (Y/N) wondered.

Ever since (Y/N) became a student studying general pediatrics here at the hospital, she’s had her fair share of taking care of a patient every once in a blue moon for the psychiatric brand in case a nurse had a emergency and needed to leave. She met Penelope when Ruby had to leave because her daughter was in labor, and the usual nurse that took over Ruby's patients for the night shift had come up with the flu. (Y/N) had taken over Ruby’s patients that night and met Penelope, Penelope explaining what (Y/N) would have to do as a psychiatric nurse for the day.

That was four months ago. They can technically be considered friends but they have the habit of being a little distant, though it’s slowly fading away ever since they agreed on hanging out every Saturday. Their Saturdays consisted of shopping and running errands together since it’s a day they’re both off.

(Y/N) walked back down to the staff room and unlocked the door, finding Penelope on the table face-down.

“Are you okay?” (Y/N) questioned, standing a good distance from Penelope in case she needed some space.

“How do you do it?” Penelope questioned, lifting her face off the table.

“Do what?” (Y/N) questioned.

“How can you be so calm with such cute guys?!” Penelope shouted, balling up her fists as her face went red.

Does Penelope have a crush on Andrew? (Y/N) thought to herself.

Her stomach twisted in either disgust or anger, probably both. She felt like throwing up as she thought about Penelope and Andrew together.

Andrew was supposed to be Penelope’s patient, but (Y/N) swept him away from her after caring for him one day. Penelope had worked day shift that day since she was taking over one of the day nurses shifts because they were taking the day off for her son's graduation, so Penelope switched shifts with them for the day and worked their day shift, resulting in working with Andrew. However, apparently Andrew didn't like her care enough, or perhaps (Y/N) just has a more calm aura around her compared to Penelope. How she won Andrew over, she’s not sure, but he chose her. He chose her, not Penelope.

“Ah, well… I guess I’m just really good at hiding what I feel?” (Y/N) smiled, feeling her polite smile twitch.

“I’m hopeless. How can I ever find someone to love if I just freak out like this...?” Penelope sighed.

“There, there, pen. I’m sure you’ll find someone one day.” (Y/N) comforted her, patting Penelope’s shoulder.

Yes, not today or tomorrow. Not Andrew. (Y/N) thought to herself.

“What will I do without you?!” Penelope cried, throwing herself on (Y/N) and hugging her tightly as she wept into her chest.

(Y/N) resisted the urge to push Penelope off her. This was seriously unprofessional and she's certain if one of her coworkers (or worse, her superior and trainer Doctor Ryan) walked in, they'd possibly be sent to HR for how this may look. As much as they’re decent-ish friends, she’s not on the hugging level yet, but she doesn’t want to push Penelope off in case Penelope starts crying about that instead.

“Aw, pen. You’re too pretty to be crying about boys! Your eyeshadow is getting ruined.” (Y/N) spoke, diverting the subject.

“Aw jeez! Look what I did! I’m such a klutz…” Penelope sniffled, grabbing her phone and opening the camera to selfie-mode. “Aw! It was my good eye too! That took forever to even out.”

“How about I help you fix it?” (Y/N) offered.

“You’re the best.” Penelope smiled, wiping the tears out of her eyes, only smudging her eyeshadow worse on both sides now.

“Don’t mention it. Do you have the makeup on you?” (Y/N) questioned.

“Yep.” Penelope spoke, cheering up as she grabbed her makeup purse from her staff locker.

She sat down on the staff room table and handed the bag to (Y/N), allowing the girl to look through her most prized possessions that kept her feeling cute and confident.

(Y/N) found an eyeshadow box and opened it, browsing the colors and looking for the right one Penelope had smudged all over her.

“Cute colors.” (Y/N) commented, adoring the light shades of pinks and nudes.

“Thank you.” Penelope blushed, watching as (Y/N) grabbed a small bag of makeup wipes and opening them.

(Y/N) grabbed a wipe and scooted closer to Penelope, grabbing her chin and angling it down so (Y/N) could see better. Penelope ignored the blush rising in her face and her heartbeat increasing, instead opting to close her eyes to ignore the closeness the two shared as (Y/N) wiped the makeup off Penelope’s face.

(Y/N) noticed the blush on Penelope’s face and decided it’d be best not to acknowledge it or tease her. The first time (Y/N) noticed Penelope’s blush when they first met, she made a joke about it that left Penelope speechless around her for a few days. (Y/N) would rather not experience that awkwardness again.

If anybody walked in right now, (Y/N) prays that it’s anybody but a manager or Andrew. With how close they are right now, anyone would get the wrong idea.

She wiped off the remaining makeup before grabbing a small brush and dabbed it in the light pink shade Penelope applied earlier, fixing her eye makeup. It took a few minutes before (Y/N) finished it.

“Ta-dah!” (Y/N) cheered, resisting the powerful urge to say “you were my star patient today, have a sticker.” (It’s grown in her vocabulary now).

“Thanks.” Penelope smiled, grabbing her phone and admiring herself in the camera.

“No problem. I’m going to get back to the pediatric branch. If there’s any problems make sure to come find me.” (Y/N) explained. “Oh, we're still meeting up tomorrow, right? Think about what doughnuts you want! See you later!” (Y/N) waved, quickly shutting the staff door without waiting for Penelope’s farewell.

Now that that’s all out of the way… I should get back to Doctor Ryan. (Y/N) thought to herself.

There was a lingering feeling dwelling inside of her. She still felt sick, like kneeling down and spilling her guts out on the floor. Her chest still bubbled with anger, feeling as though steam is escaping through her ears.

It’ll probably take all night for me to calm down. (Y/N) figured, letting out a sigh. What was I angry about again? she thought.

She walked away from the staff room and down the hallway, heading to the elevators. She boarded on and pressed the second floor button, leaning onto the handrail. The elevator’s movement only worsen the discomfort in her stomach.

(Y/N) exited the elevator when the doors opened, walking down the hallway to the staff room. She would’ve made it there if she didn’t hear obnoxiously loud whispering in the room next to her, sounding similar to a toddler bickering. She peeked in the room and saw two little boys huddled together in front of a hanging white sheet, speaking to what appears as themselves. She noticed the hospital wrist bands on their arms, confirming their admission here.

“What are you two doing?” (Y/N) questioned, crossing her arms.

They both jumped, letting out their own squeals as they turned around and looked at her.

“N-nothing! Just… playing!” one smiled.

They both looked like twins, (Y/N) noted.

“You both should be in your rooms. What are your names?” she questioned.

“I’m Tom, that’s Jerry.” The other toddler introduced themselves as.

“Like the cartoon?” she questioned, a smile on her face.

“Um… yes?” he spoke, hesitantly.

Wow. Am I that old? They obviously haven’t seen it… she thought to herself.

“Well, it sure matches you both, since you sneaked out of your rooms. Who are you talking to?” (Y/N) questioned, resisting the urge to peek behind the curtain.

Yeah. Like I’m that dumb… I’m not going to die like Psycho from a killer hiding behind a damn curtain. She thought to herself. And there’s no way I’m investigating either. I don’t mess with ghosts.

“Come along, now.” (Y/N) spoke.

(Y/N) watched as they walked away, shooting each other glares. She looked at the curtain once last time before shutting the door and walking away. If she looked behind the curtain, she would’ve saw Ashley hiding from the security guard, a scalpel in her hand and ready to attack (Y/N) and the kids if the curtain was opened. Ashley was still mad at Andrew, and now she was mad at all the nurses in the hospital, but especially Andrew’s new nurse he grew to favor.

(Y/N) led the two kids to the staff room and unlocked the door, peeking in and looking for any nurse that recognizes these two. She saw one of the pediatric nurses, Wally, and smiled.

“Ah, Wally. Do you know these two?” (Y/N) questioned, bringing the two kids into the room.

“I thought I locked their doors. They kept trying to escape…” Wally sighed, standing up from his seat.

“I used a pen to escape.” Jerry smiled. “Then broke Tom out.”

“Well, thank you for telling me how you got out, because now there’s a no pen policy in your rooms.” Wally spoke, giving them a stern glare.

“Aw! You just had to run your mouth!” Tom huffed.

“You didn’t stop me!” Jerry poorly excused as Wally dragged them back to their hospital rooms.

“How was I supposed to know what you were gonna say?” Tom questioned.

I wonder what they’re in here for. (Y/N) thought to herself. They sure seem energetic for being sick or injured, but I supposed it could be something internal.

She decided to ignore it and refill her medical bag. She grabbed a new bottle of water and pretzels since she gave her old pair to Hailey earlier.

She walked out of the room and locked the door, heading back to the clinic. She found Doctor Ryan’s office and stood outside, waiting a few minutes in case there was a patient, that way in case a patient was getting a shot they wouldn't get startled and jump, accidentally breaking the needle or causing harm. She heard nothing from inside the door and assumed there was no patients, so she knocked gently.

“Come in.” Doctor Ryan spoke.

“Hello, sir.” (Y/N) greeted, entering the room and shutting the door behind them. “Is there any new patients today?”

“Only walk-ins, remember?” Doctor Ryan reminded.

“Yeah, but I’m so bored…” she sighed.

“I’ve never met a student that’s actually excited to work.” Doctor Ryan admitted, chuckling.

“Not all that excited, but I woke up today to go to work, and I get paid to work, so I wanna work. Time is so slow when there’s nothing to do.” (Y/N) rambled.

“I agree. Hey, I heard you got Andrew admitted for surgery. Internal bleeding in the brain?” Doctor reminded.

(Y/N) felt a flash of worry and she grimaced.

“Was that… the wrong call?” she questioned, not even bothering to hide the discomfort and worry on her face.

“It was the right call. Good job. I just wanted to see you squirm.” The doctor laughed.

“Sheesh, you worried me! I thought I got fired before evening getting the real job.” (Y/N) sighed.

“Sorry, sorry. How is he doing? Social-wise? Is he still stingy towards the other nurses?” he questioned.

“I introduced him to Hailey today. They both were quiet, but they interacted for a bit, which is good considering Hailey hasn’t seen a new visitor in a while.” She explained. "He saw Penelope too and didn't throw anything at her. So that's... good?"

“How’s Hailey’s condition?” Doctor Ryan asked.

“She’s only getting worse. I really don’t think she’ll live for long.” (Y/N) sighed, a frown forming on her face.

“That’s unfortunate. Sadly, it’s part of our job to see them go sometimes.” Doctor Ryan spoke, patting her shoulder. “But hey, we’re here to help prevent that.”

“That does remind me, when is Hailey’s next chemotherapy session?” she questioned.

“It’ll be Sunday, but you and me won’t be here. With our day off and all.” Doctor Ryan explained. “Any plans?”

“I’m hanging out with Penelope from the psychiatric branch tomorrow. Sunday I’ll catch up on sleep.” (Y/N) informed.

She noticed his smug expression and glared at him, but that didn’t stop him from making his joke.

“Well, I bet Andr-“

“Don’t finish it.” (Y/N) warned.

“Okay. Okay.” He chuckled.

“What do you plan on doing?” she questioned, redirecting the conversation.

“Hanging out with my wife and kids. Probably get no sleep.” He shrugged.

“Poor you, family man.” (Y/N) teased.

“You don’t understand what it’s like trying to sleep in a house with two toddlers during the day. It’s not very easy.” He explained.

“How’s the wife and kids anyway?” (Y/N) questioned.

“Jax just celebrated his third birthday. Piper’s learning to read. And Jane wants me to work day shift.” Doctor Ryan sighed.

“Well, why don’t you?” (Y/N) questioned. “You sleep in the day and can’t spend time with your family at night since they're sleeping. I think it’d be best.”

“Exactly. Everyone does that. We don’t have enough nurses for night shift, especially skilled ones.” Doctor Ryan huffed, then remembered that (Y/N) technically qualifies as unskilled, at the moment at least. “Which is why I teach you! So I can skedaddle!”

“I’ll be the best pediatrician here.” (Y/N) smiled, then noticed the stare Doctor Ryan gave her. “Night shift wise, I will be. You’ll be on the day shift.”

Doctor Ryan’s walkie-talkie went off, catching both of their attention.

“Doctor Ryan, a nurse is bringing a patient to you. Possible UTI.” The walkie-talkie spoke.

“Aw, poor kid.” (Y/N) spoke.

“Yeah, poor kid alright.” Doctor Ryan grimaced, just imagining the pain and discomfort.

“Well, let’s get it checked out then prescribe antibiotics if they’re right.” She sighed, stretching her arms out and cracking her knuckles. . . Thirty minutes before (Y/N)’s shift and she felt exhausted. The work day went by pretty fast and now she was walking down the hallway to see Hailey.

She slowly opened the door, not wanting to knock and accidentally wake up Hailey, but she wanted to make sure Hailey was still breathing.

She expected to see a sleeping girl but instead she saw that she was wide awake, using her nightstands lamp as a light so she could read.

“Hailey!” (Y/N) lightly hissed through her teeth, quiet so she doesn’t accidentally wake up any nearby patients sleeping in their rooms.

“Hello, Ms. (L/N).” Hailey smiled, unphased that she got caught.

“It’s 5:30 in the morning and you’re still up. You should’ve been long in bed sleeping.” She scolded, walking up to Hailey and sitting down on her guest chair. “But, since you’re up. How’s the book?”

“I think it’s really interesting, the way her decisions could have such consequences. I never thought decisions would mean so much.” Hailey explained.

“Of course. You know, I had to decide if I wanted to be a nurse or a writer.” (Y/N) admitted.

“Well, you’re a nurse now.” Hailey smiled, before it dropped. “Do… you think if you weren’t a nurse, would we have never met?”

“Probably not.” (Y/N) admitted, not bothering to sugarcoat it to her. "But that's just a consequence from my decision. Not all consequences mean bad things. I don't regret not being a writer either. I'm here with you, aren't I?" she smiled, patting Hailey's hand reassuringly.

"Uh, that boy from earlier..." Hailey started.

(Y/N)'s smile disappeared as she felt a bolt of lightning strike her. She felt sick again, and her chest started to pop and boil, and her hands started to tremble. She dug her nails into her palms once more and tilted her head, leaning in close to listen to the girl.

"He was scary..." Hailey muttered, causing (Y/N) to let out a forced giggle.

"Ah, yes. I supposed Andrew was. But he's real sweet when he opens up." (Y/N) smiled, giving her a small white lie since she really didn't know herself if Andrew was sweet, but she at least wanted to ease the girl's nerves.

"I think he likes you." Hailey teased, letting out a girlish giggle.

"Everyone apparently thinks that." (Y/N) laughed, recalling Doctor Ryan's words.

"Well, do you like him back?" Hailey questioned.

"Oh, hails. I just met him yesterday!" (Y/N) pointed out, shaking her head as she smiled.

"It's true love at first sight!" Hailey declared.

"Where'd you learn that saying?" (Y/N) questioned.

"I'm serious! I think you two would be really cute, you're like polar opposites!" Hailey claimed, ignoring (Y/N)'s previous question.

Really, personality-wise, I don't think we're too different. Hailey doesn't understand my outside-work persona. (Y/N) thought to herself as she just smiled and went along with what Hailey said.

"You should confess!" Hailey encouraged.

"What's with you and this?" (Y/N) questioned.

"I know I won't live long enough to experience love like in the books... so I figured the second best thing would be having you live it." Hailey smiled, her smile fake and twitching.

"Oh, hails..." (Y/N) sighed, getting up from her chair and walking to Hailey's bedside.

Hailey scooted over so that (Y/N) could sit on the bed with her. Hailey immediately wrapped her arms around (Y/N)'s torso and dug her face into (Y/N)'s chest, her shoulders heaving up and down, giving away that she was crying. (Y/N) sighed and wrapped one of her arms around Hailey, the other she used to gently caress Hailey's bald scalp, a permanent reminder of her condition.

(Y/N) wanted to tell her that Hailey would be alright, that she would make it through, but she knew she couldn't promise that, especially to a little kid. She wasn't going to accidentally give the girl false hope and have her miserable on her potential death bed.

"You're such a sweet girl, any boy would fall for you instantly. Your cute little button nose and brown eyes would have any boy smitten. Your laugh and sweet personality would have any boy confess their love for you. If you made some friends with the boys here in this branch, you'll have so many guys surrounding you, you wouldn't know what to do!" (Y/N) reassured, poking Hailey's nose and causing her to giggle.

"Do you think they'd still like me even without hair?" Hailey questioned.

"Course they would. If a boy only likes you for your looks, punch him for me." (Y/N) joked, smiling.

"I will." Hailey giggled.

"Hey, I'll tell you what. When I come back on Monday, I'll take you out to the garden. The flowers are in bloom this year!" (Y/N) spoke.

"Promise?" Hailey gasped.

"I swear on my life." (Y/N) smiled. "Now, I'm going to go pay Andrew a little visit. You better sleep when I leave this room, understand?” (Y/N) questioned.

“Yes.” Hailey nodded.

“Thank you. And good job today, Hailey. I’m so proud of you for talking with Andrew and staying strong as always. What color star would you like today?” (Y/N) asked, reaching into her medical bag.

“Purple.” Hailey smiled.

“You got it.” (Y/N) smiled, placing the sticker down onto Hailey’s nightstand. “Goodnight, hails. I’ll see you Monday.”

“Goodnight.” Hailey smiled, getting comfortable in her bed.

(Y/N) walked out of the room and closed the door, making her way to the elevators. She got on and pressed the fourth floor button, waiting for the elevator to stop moving. The doors opened and she walked out and to Andrew’s room. She made it in front of the door then knocked.

There was no answer.

Ah, Andrew must’ve went to bed like I asked. It’s good that he actually listens to me. (Y/N) thought, a smile appearing on her face at the thought of having possibly tamed the cannibalistic murderer (however she did, she does not know).

(Y/N) opened the door quietly, just to check. It’s also a possibility that he could’ve died in his sleep due to the anesthesia or a error in the surgery. It could also be a possibility that he jumped out of the window since he’s on suicide-watch (not like any other nurse had the nerves to come in and actually leave with no bruises).

She opened the door and noted that he was still in bed, sleeping peacefully. His heart monitor was still on and showed his vitals, all sounding normal and looked it too. Her heart sped up a bit as she watched him sleep peacefully.

He looks so peaceful. (Y/N) noted, admiring his vulnerable and slumbering figure.

He was handsome when he wasn't frowning. Well, even when he did have a scowl on his face, he was certainly able to make such an ugly face a pretty one. His pale skin in comparison to his dark hair was breathtaking, and his green eyes were simply divine, like Granny Smith apples; sour and tart, but a hint of sweet when you bite down just right.

She eventually snapped out of her trance after remembering that she was still in the hallway and what she was doing was no doubt creepy, and shut the door. It probably would’ve been a good idea to have told him that she would be gone for a few days, but she’s sure he’ll manage decently.

She walked away and to the branch’s staff room, unlocking the door. Lucky, there was no one in for her to have to converse with—nobody except Penelope. Penelope patients were always the most tamest and laidback since HR knew her.. questionable... personality.

“Hey!” Penelope smiled, just finishing clocking out.

“Hello!” (Y/N) greeted back, walking towards her and grabbing the clipboard and pen from her hands as Penelope handed it to her.

“How was patient 402 today?” Penelope questioned.

“Ah, he had surgery so I didn’t see much of him. He saw Hailey for a few minutes before he went to his room and slept.” (Y/N) explained.

“Oh, that’s wonderful! I’m so glad he’s doing okay and I’m glad he’s getting along with Hailey.” Penelope squealed.

“Mmhm.” (Y/N) hummed, finishing her clock-out.

She used the computer and typed up today's report for all her patients. When she got to Andrew's she typed: get casting on leg done immediately while he’s still asleep so he or his sister doesn’t get hostile.

Penelope read the screen from over (Y/N)’s shoulder, then spoke.

“Oh. His sister? I haven’t seen her since yesterday!” Penelope explained.

“Huh. Well, maybe she had something to do today?” (Y/N) reasoned.

“Maybe! But I heard from Ruby that she was kicked out of the hospital after she got aggressive with Andrew. She probably got banned from returning.” Penelope explained.

(Y/N) physically grimaced, a scowl forming on her face at Penelope saying Andrew’s name. She really didn’t like it when Penelope said his name and she’s not sure why.

“Is there something wrong? Did you forget to do something?” Penelope questioned.

“Oh, no. I just made the face because I can’t believe his sister could be so mean to him while he’s injured.” (Y/N) smiled forcefully.

“Right? Poor Andrew… I really hope he doesn’t have to see her anytime soon! It makes me wonder how she usually treats him uninjured.” Penelope frowned, pitying the poor patient who wasn’t in the room.

(Y/N) grimaced again, hating her saying “Andrew” just as much as she hated it the first time, if not, even stronger.

“I agree.” She spoke through her smiling teeth, another forceful grin. "Welp!" she smiled, clapping her hands together. "See you tomorrow, Penelope!" she spoke, quick to clock out and leave.

(Y/N) quickly walked down the hall to the elevators, hopping in and pressing the lobby button. She took a moment to compose herself, leaning against the railing.

I feel so weird today. My chest feels like it's being squeezed and I feel almost angry... She thought, confused of her emotions.

Maybe she didn't eat a big enough lunch. When she gets home, she'll eat dinner and drink lots of water before heading to bed. Yeah, she could use the meal and the sleep. It can be really difficult being the caretaker when you have no one to care for you, but in her own words, "in order to care for another, you must first learn to care for yourself."

She got in her car and drove back to her apartment, shutting the door and locking it before she collapsed on her living room's couch. She laid on her back for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling blankly, no thoughts crossing her mind.

She needed the few minutes to gain some energy. It’s always so exhausting smiling and being positive, especially in such a depressing and brooding setting such as a hospital where many meet their end, even worse that its children.

She doesn’t regret her decision in going through with becoming a pediatrician, but it does get heartbreaking seeing young kids die. She tries her best to help them, but sometimes there’s just some things out of your control.

She knows that when Hailey dies, she’ll be absolutely devastated. Out of all the patients she sees and talks to, she always makes sure to give Hailey the most of her attention and time.

Hailey was first admitted into the hospital when she was seven. After weeks of in and out tests at the hospital, MRI’s and blood withdraws, she was diagnosed with cancer. From then on, she spent her days at the hospital. Hailey’s parents were always busy, one was a lawyer and the other was a traveling diplomat. The nurses were basically babysitters for her while her parents were working.

Her parents loved her, they loved her so much that they couldn’t bare to see her slowly deteriorate in front of their eyes, so they forced themselves away from her side and indulged in work to rid the thought of their only daughter dying. They didn’t realize how lonely or terrifying it was for Hailey, to suddenly be surrounded by white walls and white floors and white sheets. Surrounded by the stench of heavy bleach and aroma of lemons. By radiation machines and clumps of lost hair on her pillows.

She watched out of her window as other patients walk in and out of the hospital, their families walking by their side, supporting them during their times of need. Her visitors weren't family, but nurses and doctors entering and exiting her room, no longer bothering to smile or give her white lies of how she'll heal soon.

(Y/N) couldn't try to understand or emphasize, she wasn't sick in a hospital bed balding. She wasn't bedridden, and she had the fortunate ability to move her legs unlike Hailey's legs, the clumping of leukemia cells in Hailey's knees making it hard to walk on some days. (Y/N)'s been Hailey's nurse for five months now, she had started nursing Hailey before she decided to change her career.

(Y/N) was originally going to be a pediatric nurse, make sure children are sticking to their proper recovery path and taking medications that they're doctors are prescribing them, provide utmost comfortability and nurturing to them as they could, and constantly run tests on their weights, diets, and symptoms, but she changed her studies to become a pediatric hematologist-oncologist after meeting Hailey.

(Y/N) graduated high school a year early by taking Advanced Placement (college-level) courses and getting a head start by going to classes during school breaks and on the weekends. It was exhausting and downright infuriating at times, but she managed and graduated with her high school diploma along with a certificate in child care after completing a three-year course in high school for early childhood education; allowing her to get a part-time job after high school by working in a daycare. Then she moved out from her parents, heading to college and completing one year of adolescent medicine (originally, it was supposed to be four, but her AP classes counted for college-credit and high school credits). She finished college five months ago, and now she's learning from Doctor Ryan JTED general pediatrics while taking online hematology-oncology classes to graduate med school early.

She had always been an over-achiever, aiming for success to please her parents and earn what little praise she could. It had been a goal ever since she was a child, to hear such little words from them with actual meaning, not just false words spoken on auto-pilot to shoo their child away.

Her father wanted her to be successful and rich in life, so she wouldn't have to deal with poverty in her future anymore, and her mother... well, her mother really didn't care what she did. In fact, her mother never cared at all. Her parents were always working all the time. Her father worked as an overworked and underpaid mechanic who worked 6-8, never having any time for his daughter as he worked in the day and slept at night. Her mother was also a nurse, specializing in cardiology; she slept in the day and worked at night. Even on her days off, she slept and ignored (Y/N)'s needs.

From two years old to five, (Y/N) was locked alone in a room with a bed, TV, and a bathroom. She was locked in a dark room for 16 hours a day, with no food and the only water source was from the sink's faucet. All she did in that room was sleep, watch cartoons on the TV, and cry; begging to be let out of the room, begging for food, begging for any sort of affection or tenderness from her mother who slept in the room next door so that (Y/N) wouldn't interrupt her sleeping. Instead, the only affection she received in her life was the embrace of her bed's sheets.

All her time in her hands caused her to sleep so much she developed a sleeping disorder, hypersomnia; the inability to remain alert, woke, or refreshed in the daytime despite having an excessive amount of rest. That condition became chronic, even now she struggled with it, which made her excessive daytime sleepiness so much worse due to working eight hours at the hospital for her JTED classes of general pediatrics (at least she got paid for her apprenticeship, working from 8 A.M. to 5 P.M.), and studying online for hematology-oncology for at least 3 to 4 hours after work. She's eternally grateful for her med school being paid, earning a scholarship due to all her high grades in her AP classes and completing college with her adolescent medicine degree. Medicine was a part of her mother's side of the family, and (Y/N) naturally became a caretaker after learning to care for herself her whole life; touch starved from the hands of her mother and father.

If (Y/N) had been the patient in the hospital bed, would her mother have cared then? Would she have shown a bit of sympathy? Even just touch her arm for a few seconds to feel for a vein and inject a IV needle in? The answer was no. Her mother didn't care when (Y/N) had been rushed to the hospital in an ambulance, fainting after days of neglecting her needs of food and water in order to complete her piling school work. Her mother didn't care when (Y/N) pleaded for help at ten years old, saying she believed she had depression and needed help.

Instead of helping her, her mother shook it off as hormones from puberty, and even told her to stop overreacting that: "You can't be depressed. People have such worse lives than you, dying alone in hospital beds, and here you are, crying about a few hormonal mood swings."

Her mother didn't even care when (Y/N) had tried to kill herself when she was just eleven years old. For a nurse, whose job is supposed to protect and care, she was cruel.

Her father cared, he really did, but he just didn't have the time for her. While her mother slept and ignored her, he was at work busting his ass off to earn money and support their family. He had grown up poor, living in immense poverty, sharing a bedroom with his sister, unsure of when their next meal was. He never graduated high school, he went to the military but after a few years was rejected due to heart conditions, which led him to coming home and getting his GED so that he could go to college and become a mechanic. Money was always a problem for her family, even in a two-income household it was hard to meet living standards. A big reason she piled all that work on her and neglected her health was so she could get her schooling paid for.

Remember her saying from earlier? "In order to care for another, you must first learn to care for yourself." Well, she had to teach herself that the hard way. She realized she couldn't be a nurse and preach others to care for themselves if she couldn't even care for herself. So, she took on hobbies to help her mental health, forced herself to make friends and gain confidence, made an oath to stop her self-harm when she was young. This was a challenge, but it presented opportunity for growth, for success, for happiness.

Opportunity is everywhere, so long as you choose to believe it. You don't need to see things to know it's there, so long as you have faith. Opportunity is everywhere, lurking and waiting to jump out from the corner and get you! Even the corner of your bedroom, while you lay thinking of nothing and everything depressingly on your couch. Opportunity is stalking, waiting patiently for you to walk through your bedroom door so they could give you a big hug! Or a stab! Or multiple stabs!

Opportunity comes in many forms. Education, money, experience, decisions, and even people; such as Ashley Graves! Opportunities to pursue your goal of nursing, or if we use Ashley's motivation, a wonderful opportunity to stab a little nurse out of jealousy all because she just happened to get too close to her brother after he made a minor slip-up. A Grave consequence, really.

A cliff-hanger! This is where the next chapter will take some time to come out since all the previous chapters were drafts I wrote for fun before I started writing for Tumblr.

Also, Penelope is one of my first yanderes I created myself, an OC! While she won't play a major role in this series, she'll have her own headcannons and such one day once I get around to it, maybe you'll find an interest in her yourself!

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

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

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, current chapter, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6 (in the works)

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berriweb · 11 months

Text

╰┈➤ ❝ 3:19 AM ❞

: ̗̀➛ ft. earth-42 miles morales x fem! reader

: ̗̀➛ warnings. both y/n and miles smoke weed, short mentions of some injuries

: ̗̀➛ a/n. feel free to laugh and correct me on any fucked up spanish because i highly doubt google translate will be accurate and 4 years of high school spanish can only get one so far /3 the 42! miles brain rot I’m suffering from is LETHAL

Every few minutes a gust of wind would send shivers down your spine and poke chill bumps into your skin as air blew through the cracked bedroom window. You did your best to block out the chaotic sounds of sirens and the occasional arguments and fights breaking out in the streets below the apartment complex by turning up the speaker playing soothing music ever so slightly to combat them. Striding across the room, the smell of lavender, citrus, and maybe just a hint of cherry blossoms filled your nostrils and the room as you carefully lit incense and candles scattered across the desk in the corner of the room, before using the same lighter to re-ignite the joint hanging from between your pointer and middle finger.

Bringing it up to your lips, you took a long drag before releasing it and making an attempt to blow towards the crack and avoid stinking up the room with the stench of weed and burning paper, hence the candles and cracked window.

When you flopped back onto the made bed after setting your joint in the ash tray, your gaze turned from the dimly lit ceiling to the glowing red alarm clock sitting on the nightstand next to you, 3:19 AM.

Reaching for your phone charging next to it, you squinted at the screen before using Face ID to unlock it, your previous messages with Miles already being displayed seeing as you couldn’t stop checking to see if there were any updates.

5:15 PM

M&M <3: Something came up, got some business with Uncle Aaron. I’m going to be late.

You: we still on for movie night ? :(

M&M <3: Of course, wait for me til then? Give me til 11.

You: i’ll keep your spot warm :) stay safe, i love you <3

M&M <;3: Te amo, Ma.

5:19 PM

You: oh!!! tell aaron i said hey 2, haven’t been around to visit n a while😞

12:01 AM

You: everything good?

12:45 AM

You: a little worried, txt me back when you can :(

2:00 AM

You: ?

Despite trying your best to ignore the nightly chaos ensuing outside, it was becoming increasingly hard to do so when your boyfriend of many years had recently admitted to being the Prowler and spending most of the nights he wasn’t with you out in the city carrying out orders on behalf of Kingpin, especially when he’d texted you earlier that day planning to be back by 11 at latest for a movie night, only to follow up a few hours later saying that something had come up.

He’d assured you when he first broke the news that he’d always come back home to you, but that never stopped you from worrying every once in a while that something awful would occur that was out of his control. Especially when he wasn’t replying to any of your attempts to check up on him.

What if he’d been captured? What if it was a mission Aaron sent him on and he somehow screwed it up? What if someone had screwed him over? A rouge villain? An assassination gone wrong? A stray bullet he couldn’t dodge fast enough? What if-

Creak.

Your unintentional spiraling into horrific ‘what if’ scenarios was interrupted by the sound of rusted metal grinding against another, your head tilting up in less than a second to see a clawed hand further pushing up your window frame.

‘Speak of the devil.’

The relieved expression on your face couldn’t be hidden as you nearly jumped up from your spot on the bed to his side as he crawled through your window, with an admittedly suspicious gait when he stepped back from the window.

“You’re back! What took so long?” You chirped as you stood. Normally you would’ve avoided bombarding him with questions as soon as he’d come back, seeing as he’d likely already been dealing with enough before arriving, but he’d never come home this late before.

The plates on his mask pulled back to show his gorgeous, as usual, yet tired face behind it, exhaustion pulling at the ends of his lips. “Lo siento mami, tomó más tiempo de lo que pensaba, I got caught up with some bad people,” he hummed while carefully removing his clawed hands and leaving them resting in your desk, the rest of his geared suit coming off after until he was left in just his shirt and some nice sweatpants. Without all of the extra gear, you had a better chance to size him up before he pulled you into his embrace.

You suspected he kept it brief to avoid/distract you from worrying about him, which was hard to do when you noticed the slight discoloration on his ankle when part of his pant leg moved and his attempt to not put as much pressure on that foot when he walked, paired with the way his nose scrunched when he moved and his right side of his torso flexed.

Part of you admired his dedication to protecting you from knowing too much about what he did as the Prowler and trying to be a role model for you. The other part of you thought he was a fool for not letting you in and allowing you to help, which you often voiced your opinion on.

“They had you at it for hours? Are you alright?” You buried your face into his chest to get a whiff of his cologne and what you were sure was a hint of blood and outside. He mirrored your actions by resting his head on top of yours, making you appreciate past you for choosing to oil your scalp earlier that night.

“I’m alright, but why are you still up? I’ve told you about-” “I’m awake-” you cut your boyfriend off before he could start to lecture you, which you didn’t want to hear no matter how much you loved his accent, “because my boyfriend promised to be home for movie night but instead left me worrying for his safety all night then has the nerve to lie to me when he finally makes it back hours later.”

A look you’d learned was his attempt at hiding his guilty conscience crossed his face before he rose a brow at your accusation of lying. “Wait, wha-” this time he cut himself off when your arm slithered back from around his waist and you used to fingers to dig into his side, causing Miles to jerk back and wince, holding his side.

"¡Hijo de puta! What’s your deal Y/N?! Eso duele como el infierno! Jesus-”

You tried (and failed) to hold back from giggling at his irritated gaze before grabbing him by both hands and leading him to your bed, practically forcing him to sit down at the edge, not that he tried to fight back.

“Consider it karma, Miles. If you’re gonna go out and do dangerous shit at least don’t lie to my face about it,” you tsked, kneeling down as you ignored the pointed glare and mean mug he sent your way as his nose scrunched and he muttered something under his breath about you being cruel. Lifting the side of his shirt up, you eyed the damage his assumed rivals must have caused before he came, black and purple bruises littering his side in different colors and shades. You sucked your teeth, looking up at him with narrowed eyes which he only responded with by looking off to the side and biting the inside of his cheek.

Moving down, you pulled his pant leg up to see matching colors on his ankle, and given his previous limp you’d have to take a guess as to what happened. He hardly ever let you treat him in any capacity, which was mostly due to him feeling the need to always be treating you, but judging from the look in your eyes Miles knew he didn’t really have a choice this go round.

“It looks sprained, and those bruises are gonna take forever to heal. Do you need an ice pack?” “Please.” You we’re already rising to your seat, not waiting for a response before you quickly and quietly left your room to go retrieve one from the kitchen without waiting your parent(s).

When you returned, you were carrying an ice pack, along with some bandages to keep it in place and a small snack just in case he hadn’t eaten in a while, and knowing how he gets when he prioritizes being the Prowler over everything else, he likely hasn’t. He’d taken the liberty of finishing off the rest of your joint, evident by the evidence still being in his hand and the smoke blown into your mouth when you leaned in for a quick deep kiss before kneeling once again to work on his ankle the best you could. You were by no means a professional, but your attempt was better than leaving it alone and your guilty conscience wouldn’t let you even if you wanted to.

As you worked in silence the initial tension in the air seemed to ease up, partially due to the weed, but you couldn’t help but still be slightly bothered by how worried you’d been for him. Yeah, he made it back relatively okay this time despite his lateness, but what about next time, and the time after that?

“Y/N.”

Miles’ voice pulled you out of your thoughts, mainly due to the fact that he hardly ever called you by your first name, and you realized that you’d been quietly staring at the floor for a while after finishing up treating his injuries. You could feel him reach down to grab both your hands and pull you up to his feet until you were standing between both of his legs looking down at him.

“You worry too much,” he started, but that didn’t help at all to ease your mind. “You don’t worry enough! Miles, you were supposed to be here hours ago. How can you expect me to just sit around and go about my normal routine knowing that you’re out their risking your life nearly every night? I can’t do that for you and you know that!”

Miles felt guilt creeping up his throat, this felt like a long overdue conversation. “I don’t expect that of you, but what do you want me to do mami? I can’t just drop out and you know that. All of this- I do it for you, for us, you know I can’t just back out now, it’s my only sense of normalcy ever since-” he didn’t finish his sentence, but you didn’t need him to. You couldn’t bear to look him in eyes, your heartstrings tugging painfully at the reminder of how he ended him the way he was now.

You’d been there for him through the worst of it, when his father died, when the city went to shit. It was awful for a very long time, your only glimpse of hope being when Miles seemingly started regaining a sense of who he was long after the fact. You’d been happy for him, encouraging him to go out more and constantly reminding him that you were there for him. Unbeknownst to you, the “healthy” outlet he’d been using to cope with the fact was sneaking out with his Uncle to commit crimes on behalf of some of the worst known criminals. You’d be lying if you said you approved, that you were okay with what he did and that you thought Miles was too, but you’d learned to accept it on account of the fact that there really wasn’t any other option. You knew you couldn’t even entertain the thought of not always being by his side, you needed him just as much as he needed you.

You couldn’t argue with his point and couldn’t hold eye contact, trying to look off to the side to avoid his hardened gaze but he was quick to gently take hold of your chin and turn your head back to him, making a warm feeling crawl up your neck.

“Siento haberte preocupado, mi amor. Do you remember the promise I made you when I first told you?” He asked.

It was a random callback, but you remember it as clear as day, the night you’d shown up at Miles’ house to surprise him with a gift you found at the mall which reminded you of him, sitting in his room awaiting his return only for him to crawl in through the window clad in Prowler gear mid-unmasking. You swore you could still occasionally hear the sound of your jaw hitting the floor.

“You promised that you’d never keep another secret from me,” you recalled with a small sigh, feeling your shoulders drop.

“And?”

“And…that no matter what you’d always come back home to me.”

“Dije que nunca te dejaré esperando a alguien que nunca volverá a casa,” Miles’ hands caressed your sides before falling still at your hips. “I promised to always, no matter what, come back, no?”

Your hands fell down to his shoulders, tilting your head until your foreheads were touching and you could feel his breathe hitting your collarbone.

“I’m sorry baby, I just…”

“No need to apologize, mami, I don’t blame you.”

His words ease your concern, but you know that the issue is too big for one conversation to solve. At the same time, however, it’s also out of concern.

Deciding that you’ve stressed yourself out more than enough for one night, you move away from him to flop back onto your bed before tugging on his arm to bring him down with you. Miles wraps his arms around your waist to bring you closer and you throw a leg over both of his while being careful to not hurt any of his already injured parts, burying your face into the crook of his neck while your free hand reaches to run your nails across the part for his braids.

“They got you good, huh? Messed up your pretty braids n’ everything, they were so neat,” you mumbled, making Miles chuckle.

“You can always do ‘em again for me, huh mami? You always do them the best.”

“And you missed out of movie night, I had the best trilogy picked out…” he could practically feel your pout on his neck.

“How ‘bout I make it all up to you tomorrow? No school, I’ll take you shopping and we’ll go eat someplace nice. Then we can watch all the movies you want, I can even find a decent theater for us, yeah?”

“Yeah, I’d like that…” judging by the slur, he knew you were practically out for the night, which was confirmed by the yawn that followed your words. He let a small smile tug at his lips as he kissed your forehead before pulling the blankets up to covered the two of you.

“Buenas noches, mami.”

“G’night baby.”

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