#reader x crowe

[celeste-stellar]

“What Did You Wish For?”

Happy Birthday Crowe! Spoilers from the game TKATB

“Happy Birthday to you…” “Blow your candles, Crowe. Don’t forget to make a wish first, okay?” I said gently, watching as his lashes lowered and his eyes fluttered shut. With a soft fuu~, the flames vanished, and the room glowed again as the lights returned. “I hope your wishes come true, Crowe,” I whispered with a smile that came straight from my heart. He looked at me then, smiling back—so pure, so warm—that it felt like the world slowed down just for the two of us. “Yes,” he said, voice quiet, almost thoughtful. I wonder what he wished for… I thought, my chest tightening with curiosity and affection as I reached for the knife and some plates. “Hey, Y/N, need a hand?” he asked softly, stepping a little closer. “No, I’ve got it,” I replied, though the warmth of his nearness made my cheeks burn more than the candles ever had. But that was last year. “Happy birthday to you…” The words slip out of me in a broken whisper, trembling, fragile. My throat tightens around the lump of sorrow I can never swallow, and I carefully place a bouquet of stargazer lilies and red roses before you. Beside them, I set down a single slice of cake—small, simple, with just one candle flickering against the restless wind. “Happy birthday to you… happy birthday…” The song falters, collapsing in the middle as my voice shatters. Tears spill freely, hot against my cold skin. And as if the heavens can’t bear it either, the sky begins to weep, raindrops falling in time with mine. I lift my head, staring into the gray above. “Are you crying too? …I miss you. I miss you so much.” My knees weaken, but I stay kneeling by your side. My hands clutch the damp grass as if holding on to the earth could bring me closer to you. “You know… last year, when you blew out your candles, I wondered what you wished for. You smiled at me, so warm, so pure… and I thought, maybe… maybe you wished for me too. I wanted to ask, but I didn’t. Now I’ll never know.” A shaky breath leaves me, trembling like the flame of the little candle. “If I could make a wish now, it would be you. Always you. To hear your laughter again, to feel your hand in mine, to see that smile that made the world kinder. I’d give anything, everything, just to have you back. I wish I was the one who-” My voice cracks into the rain. “They say time heals. But it doesn’t. It just teaches you how to hide the wound, how to keep living while bleeding inside. And still, on days like this, the wound feels fresh… like you just slipped away yesterday.” The candle sputters, the flame nearly out. My chest tightens. “In the next life… if there is one… I’ll find you. I’ll love you all over again, and this time, I won’t waste a single second. That’s my wish.” I bow my head, tears falling onto the flowers, onto the earth that keeps us apart. “Happy birthday, my love. Wherever you are… please don’t forget me.”

BAD END

I- AH I'm sorry TT I'm still coping HUHU CROWE !

Happy Birthday Crowe..

I have another one to post for his birthday I swear!

[celeste-stellar]

Papercut

Crowe x Reader One Shot! While cleaning a room meant to be emptied and forgotten, a small accident pulls old memories to the surface. What starts as something easily dismissed becomes a quiet moment of care, worry, and presence. A story about the weight of the past, gentle vigilance, and choosing not to be alone when it hurts.

[Name] gathered the papers scattered across the room—stacking, sorting, discarding. Some went to the trash. Some to recycling.

That was when [Name] found the box labeled Memories. Memories [Name] had no desire to revisit.

Still, if it was to be recycled, it had to be opened.

Letters. Photographs. Small trinkets. Then a journal that carried more weight than it should.

And like those memories, [Name] cut themselves—a paper cut. Not deep, but deep enough to sink.

[Name] looked at their finger. Watched it without reaction, without movement, as blood slipped free and fell.

[Name] examined it—the bleeding wouldn’t stop. The paper cut was bigger than they thought.

It’s just a paper cut, you told themselves.

But why did it hurt more than it looked?

This wasn’t about the paper cut, was it?

“[Name]—” His voice softened when he found you. “What are you doing, Starlight…”

He stopped. His eyes fell to your hand.

“Starlight… you’re bleeding. A paper cut?” He reached for you gently. “Let’s get you a bandage.”

[Name] followed him back to the kitchen, rinsing their hands beneath the tap. The water ran clear, but the memory didn’t.

The dried blood clinging to [Name]’s skin reminded them of before— when it hadn’t been a paper cut, when it hadn’t been just one.

Old scars surfaced in their mind like ghosts, uninvited and familiar.

Crowe noticed the way [Name]’s shoulders tensed. The way their gaze lingered too long on their hands.

“Hey,” he said quietly, wrapping the bandage with care. Not accusing. Not panicked. Just there.

“You don’t have to be alone in this.”

Crowe kept his thumb steady against the bandage, like he was afraid too much pressure might make them disappear.

“It’s small,” he said softly, though his eyes stayed on their face, not their hand. “But you’ve been gone all morning.”

He hesitated, jaw tightening just a little. “That’s what scared me.”

The tap clicked off. The kitchen felt too quiet.

“I’m not mad,” he added quickly, almost tripping over the words. “I just—”

He exhaled.

“I know what it looks like when someone says it’s nothing and means it’s everything.”

Crowe glanced at their hands again, then away, as if giving you space even in the middle of worry.

“If this is just a paper cut, okay. We’ll treat it like one.”

His voice dropped.

“But if it’s not… you don’t have to explain it all at once. Or at all. Just—don’t shut me out.”

He rested his forehead briefly against yours, careful, grounding.

“You’re here. You’re safe. And I’m not going anywhere, Starlight. Not today.”

His hand lingered, warm and steady, a quiet promise he didn’t trust words alone to keep.

Crowe finished wrapping the bandage, slower than necessary, like the moment mattered.

“I don’t want to scare you,” he said quietly. “And I don’t want to pretend I didn’t notice.”

He met [Name]’s eyes then—open, worried, sincere.

“I can handle a paper cut. I can handle a bad day. Even a quiet one.”

His thumb brushed their wrist, grounding, not restraining.

“What I can’t handle is thinking you’re hurting and I don’t know.”

He swallowed, breath uneven for just a second.

“So I need one thing from you.”

Not an order. Not a demand. A request.

“If it gets bad… if it starts feeling like before, I need you to tell me.”

He shook his head gently.

“You don’t have to explain it perfectly. You don’t have to justify it. Just… tell me.”

His voice softened.

“I’m not asking to fix you. I’m asking to be here when it matters.”

Then, quieter still:

“Can you do that, Starlight?”

When they finally looked up, he met their eyes and didn’t look away.

He leaned his forehead against theirs for a moment, still saying nothing.

The promise was there anyway.

If it gets bad, I’ll notice. And [Name] won’t face it alone.