#I SWEAR TO BURN DOWN WHATEVER DISPLEASES HIM

[philiponmycracker]

A study in expressions Tom Hulce edition, random gifs of Nicky from Dominick & Eugene (1988)

[st4rlight707]

Contact High

HAII this is my first time trying creative writing so i apolgize for the pacing i tried my best so pls be nice!!

Tags: College AU!, Caleb x fem!reader, comfort fic, possessive thoughts, drug use, swearing, smut!!

(also let me know if there are any other tags I should add!!) and the playlist is a lil something i put tg and listened to while writing!!

12:47 a.m. That’s what the clock reads when I finally look up from my phone. First night of spring break, and I’ve spent it bedrotting and doomscrolling instead of studying—fully aware exam season is lurking just around the corner.

I sigh, peeling myself off the bed, and wander downstairs for a glass of water. That’s when I saw him.

Through the kitchen window above the sink, out on the back patio deck, sits Caleb. A black hoodie pulled low over his head, his face dimly lit by the flicker of a lighter as he shields the flame from the late March breeze. A blunt rests between his lips.

My Caleb.

He’s smoking? Since when does he do that? Is this his first time?

He checks his phone absentmindedly, the glow illuminating the underside of his face. For a second, I just watch him; at least 3 minutes pass like that, with me watching him scroll through whatever has his attention on his phone, smoking like it’s just another night. All I can wonder is, how long has he been smoking? When did he start smoking? Who taught him how to roll a blunt? The thought of him smoking out girls at parties or in his dorm at the DAA creeps into my mind.

I forcefully slide the back patio door open, suddenly feeling enraged by my own thoughts. Caleb jumps a little, surprised by the noise, and sees me standing there. He gives me a look of a kid who just got caught doing something they aren't supposed to.

"Shit, Pipsqueak, you scared me," he says with a smile tugging at his lips, and sets the blunt down onto the ashtray in front of him. "Since when do you smoke?" I say, pulling his hood down and crossing my arms, the irritation in my voice undeniable. “Why are you mad?” Caleb asks, grabbing my wrist and pulling me into his lap. He smells like weed and cologne, his eyes red and his lids heavy from the high. "`You ask like I just committed a crime," answering my previous question. "I don’t do it that often, just… when my brain won’t shut up," he continues.

"So you're out here smoking alone? And what's keeping your mind racing this late anyway?" My eyes flicker to his phone; I can’t help but wonder if someone at school—a girl— is influencing my Caleb.

“Pipsqueak, relax,” he says, voice low. He seems to pick up on it immediately. He always does; Caleb could always just read me like that. He runs a hand slowly down my leg like he’s trying to calm whatever displeasing thoughts were buzzing under my skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. "Yeah, uh… guess I didn’t expect to get caught by you, of all people." He scratches his head a bit, clearly trying to play it off, but embarrassed from being caught red-handed. "So you are embarrassed." Unable to resist teasing him in a state like this. “A little." He says, tips of his ears visibly red, "I mean—you’re like the one person I didn’t wanna see me like this.”

A dull pang of guilt settles in my chest.

He didn’t say it in a way that was defensive or ashamed—just honest. Like he really cared what I thought. And for some reason, that hits me harder than I expect.

“Why won’t you try taking a hit? It’ll be fun,” he suggests, leaning in a little, eyes still low. “Let me show you how to let go for a second."

It wouldn't kill me to try it once, right? Plus, I'm with Caleb, and he wouldn't let anything bad happen to me.

Sensing I’m close to giving in, he grins just a bit wider. “There she is,” he murmurs, reaching for the blunt. He relights it, it had gone out sitting untouched in the ashtray—and brings it to my lips.

“Just breathe in slowly,” he says softly. “I got you.” The first inhale burns. I cough—hard. Caleb lets out a quiet laugh, clearly amused. “Damn, Pipsqueak,” He pats my back, his palm warm through the thin fabric of my shirt "I didn't think you'd hit it that hard" "Holy shit, do you get use to that?' I asked in between smaller coughs. Lungs still stinging from the smoke, his touch lingers, his hand gently rubbing in slow circles. Comforting. Casual. Except it’s not, not to me. "Eventually," He says

Goosebumps race down my spine as he takes the blunt back, fingers twisting the ends of my hair—almost absentminded. The closeness wouldn’t usually faze me, but it feels different now. Caleb takes another hit and turns his head away to not blow the smoke in my face.

Maybe it’s how his shoulders have filled out in the past year. Or maybe it’s Tara, my dormmate, constantly pestering me about how I need to catch a dick.

She was always saying things like, "How have you been living with a guy that hot and haven't jumped him in the laundry room already?" I always rolled my eyes, swore it wasn’t like that. But now?

Now he's sitting here with smoke curling out of his lips, his hoodie riding up just enough to show a sliver of skin and the faint line of his happy trail disappearing beneath his waistband, twisting my hair between his fingers like it’s a habit, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. And now I can’t stop noticing how his hand looks resting on my thigh—bigger, steady, and familiar, but not in the way it used to be.

I can feel my heart start to race after this realization, but I'll blame it on the THC entering my bloodstream before I acknowledge my attraction to my childhood best friend. “You’ve changed,” I mumble before I can stop myself.

Caleb raises a brow, exhaling smoke as he glances over at me. “That a good thing or a bad thing?” "I don't know," I admit, a bit too honestly. He gives me a look I can't quite decipher. "Tara's been getting to you, hasn't she?" My head shoots up to give him a look. “Shut up.” “I’m right, though,” he grins, all smug and a little too satisfied with himself. “She’s been planting ideas in that pretty head of yours.” His hand trails up from my back to massage my neck as he offers the blunt back to me.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” I take it from him and confidently take another hit. He laughs softly, eyes still on me. “Look at you, getting high with me on the back porch like we’re in a coming-of-age movie.” I look away, trying to hide the blush that found its way to my face, but he can feel the heat creep up my neck anyway.

His fingers find the ends of my hair again, rolling a curl around his knuckle. This used to feel safe. Simple. But now... with his thigh pressed against mine and that look in his eyes...

I feel a heat start to build between my legs, and I shift awkwardly, squeezing them together in a weak attempt to ease the tension. Sitting in Caleb’s lap definitely isn’t helping physically or otherwise. He picks up on this, too. "Are you uncomfortable?" voice low but cautious, like he’s not sure if he should move or stay perfectly still.

���No,” I say, maybe too quickly. “just... adjusting.” He raises a brow “adjusting, huh?” “Don’t start,” I mumble, face flushed. He chuckles under his breath, teasing me. His hand settles lightly on my hips, fingers flexing just a little like he’s testing the waters.

“I mean if you wanna get up,” he says, quieter now. “You can.”

I don’t move. “You want me to?” I ask, in almost a whisper. His grip on my hips tightens just slightly—not enough to hold me there, but enough to say I don’t want you to. “No,” he says finally, voice rougher than before. “Not really.”

He takes another hit from the blunt—just a stub now—and something reckless stirs in me, probably fueled by my high or my jealousy issues. Or maybe it's the way I’m suddenly aching, clenching my thighs against the growing tension low in my belly.

Before I can even process it, I shift to straddle Caleb, now fully facing him, heart pounding in my throat. I can feel him—his clothed erection brushing perfectly against my core, sending a sharp wave of heat through me.

“Shit,” he mutters, his hand instinctively moving to my thighs. “What're you doing, Pipsqueak?” I don’t give an answer, I just reach for the blunt, and bring it to my lips. One long, slow inhale.

His eyes go wide, pupils blown and glossy. “Fuckk,” he breathes. And before he can say anything else, I cup his face in my hands, leaning in, and exhaling the smoke into his mouth, lips barely brushing. Caleb inhales the smoke like it’s second nature.

His hands slide higher, gripping my hips firmly, and he pulls me down against him—my whole body pulses at the contact, heart thudding so loud now I’m sure he can hear it.

"Fuck," he murmurs, his voice raspy from the smoke. “You have no idea what you're doing to me right now.” I bridge the gap between our lips and kiss him passionately, throwing my arms around his neck to pull us closer together. The blunt falls somewhere forgotten behind me as I grip his hoodie like it’s the only thing keeping me tethered.

His lips are warm and a little dry from the blunt, and I can still taste the smoke on his lips. Caleb makes a soft sound in his throat, almost like a groan, and pulls me in tighter. His fingers dig into my hips, not hard, just enough to ground us both like he needs proof this is really happening. I feel the muscles in his thighs tense beneath me, feel the way his body presses up into mine.

The high makes everything feel softer but heavier. More intense. I can’t even tell if I’m breathing too fast or not at all.

His lips leave mine only to trail kisses along my jaw, then lower, stopping to whisper against my neck, “You’re driving me insane, Pipsqueak.”

Good.

If I could climb inside his skin, I would. I love that no one else gets to see this version of Caleb—the real him—the Caleb who laughs when I say something dumb, the Caleb who treats every bump and bruise like he’s my personal doctor. The one who lets me crawl into his bed after a nightmare and never says a word about it the next morning. The one that’s mine, even if neither of us has said it out loud..

Dragging him impossibly closer as I kiss him deeper, rougher, until our teeth bump and his breath shudders against my lips. His tongue slides against mine, and I groan into his.

I grind against him again, slowly, deliberately. Feeling just how hard he is, cock barely restrained by the thin fabric of his basketball shorts. Caleb's hands find their way under my shirt now, cupping my breast, and I arch into him shamelessly. His thumbs brush across my nipples a few times, now stiff under his fingers. I bite back a gasp, burying my face into his neck. The scent of smoke and skin feeling familiar and dizzying all at once.

“You feel so fucking good, baby” he mutters, voice rough and half-broken, and I can feel the tension in him—he’s holding himself back. His hands move down, gripping my ass, guiding me to rock against him again. Faster this time. Harder. “You don’t even know,” he says, the words thick with need.

I smile, just barely, drunk on power and weed and him. “Then show me.” He kisses me again, my hips rolling on instinct, chasing the friction that has my head spinning and my toes curling.

Neither of us says a word, but everything is loud—the sound of our breath, the low hum of music still leaking from his phone speaker, the rustle of fabric, the creak of the patio chair beneath us.

Every time his hips push up to meet mine, it gets harder to stay quiet. He drags my shirt higher, mouthing at my collarbone, then lower, lips grazing the top of my chest, leaving heat in his wake, he groans into my skin.

“You’re mine,” I whisper without meaning to.

Caleb pauses for just a second, breathing hard against my chest. “Yours,” he repeats, voice rough and low. “All fucking yours.”

My breath hitches, the words settling deep inside, and I kiss him again. ike I’m trying to brand the taste of him into my mouth. Our rhythm slips into something more desperate, more frantic. My hips grind down harder, slower, dragging out the friction that’s quickly unraveling me. His cock presses up, stiff and hot through his shorts, perfectly aligned against the ache between my thighs

Caleb’s hands slip beneath my ass, kneading the soft flesh, using his grip to control the movement—rolling his hips up to meet every grind of mine. I moan into his mouth before I can stop myself, and he swallows the sound like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

“Fuck, Pipsqueak,” he breathes against my lips, voice wrecked and loving. “You’re so wet—I can feel you through everything.”

“You gonna come like this?” he whispers, lips brushing mine. “Right here, on my lap, just from grinding on me?”

I nod, barely managing the motion, my whole body trembling with how close I am. “Caleb—” I gasp, digging my fingers into his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor me.

“I got you,” he says, holding me tighter, pressing his forehead to mine again. “I’ve always got you.”

I roll my hips once more, and everything in me goes white-hot, crashing and clenching around nothing but need. I moan into his neck as the orgasm rolls over me, wracking my body with shivers and aftershocks.

Caleb holds me through it, never letting go, murmuring something against my temple—something I can’t quite hear over the pounding in my chest, but I feel it. Every word. Every touch.

When I finally come down, still trembling in his lap, he pulls me close, pressing a lazy kiss to my cheek. His hand strokes my back in slow, steady circles, grounding me again.

“You’re really not getting up now,” he says with a crooked grin, voice hoarse and smug.

And I don’t want to.

Not tonight. Not ever.

[darksigns-exe]

Sweet Like Honey - Secrets I Have Held

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of infidelity Word Count: 2.7 k Note: I wanted you to have both sides of the story. This is Noah's side of To Be Caught Adrift.

Read on AO3

Noah shouldn’t have picked up the phone in the first place. Her name on the screen should have been enough of an indicator for him to just throw the damn thing out of the window. But no. Like the damn fool he was, he’d picked it up, answered the call and listened to her excuses. Vic’s honeyed words had wrapped around his mind, and he’d almost agreed to see her again. 

Almost. 

This wasn’t the first time, either. She’d called the week before as well, had texted in between. Noah knew what he had seen. The image had burned itself into his brain. The writhing bodies on top of his bed were a near-permanent fixture of his sleeping hours now. He tries to bury it beneath the excitement for the tour, but then she texts him again, and it’s all he can think about again. 

It hadn’t been just bad. When they were good, they were really good. Was it love? In retrospect, he wasn’t so sure any more. They’d been more fast and loose than he would have liked, but as far as he’d been aware they were exclusive. Obviously, she’d seen that a little differently. He tries to count his losses and tally them up against the good things that’ll wait for him up the road. Emphasis on trying because he’s only moderately successful with it. They’ll be going on tour, the biggest one to date, the album is selling well, people love it. There isn’t a lot more than he could ask for. 

But that doesn’t stop him from wanting more. It’s a little selfish because he’s only met Bee once, but he can’t stop thinking about how easy those few hours had felt. He wants to learn all of her secrets, understand every furrow of her brow and how to undo it. It’s a little stupid because Noah doesn’t know a whole lot about her, but what he knows is already enough to have him running after her like a lovesick puppy. 

He doesn’t know what it is about this girl, but in the brief time they’d spent together, she’d managed to worm her way into his thoughts like nothing else. It doesn’t matter how hard he tries not to think about it, she always finds her way back — Nick and Tasha certainly don’t help when they talk about her. 

It's a welcomed distraction. He’d rather think about the pretty girl with her big ideas than whatever had happened in his bedroom. Maybe that’s why he keeps coming back to it. If she’d at least had the decency to fuck that other guy in her own home, maybe he’d be able to get over it already. But what kind of person do you have to be to cheat on your partner in their bed in a house that you don’t live in? 

Noah finally forces himself out of the studio in the back of the house and up the stairs. Thankfully, neither Nick nor Mari comment on his sudden appearance when he passes by them in the living room. Although, Mari gives him that look she’d thrown his way a few times. Thinly veiled pity and that even less veiled distaste for his ex. In a way, he was glad that Mari hadn’t been here when he’d found out.

He strips the bed down to its barest bones. If he washes it again, maybe it’ll go away this time. 

He passes the time until the washing machine is done, scrolling through his phone. A day-old picture of Nick, Mari, Tash and her follows some band's tour announcement. 

They’d been down at the beach, Nick looking more displeased than the girls to be out in the sun like that, but they seemed to be having a good time. Noah faintly remembers Nick asking him if he’d want to come with them. If he’d known that she’d be there, maybe he’d come — not that he doesn’t want to spend time with his friends, but sometimes he can’t quiet the voice in the back of his mind that keeps him inside. 

Noah taps the screen to see who is tagged in the picture. To his luck, Tasha is very diligent about this and three little name bubbles pop up on the screen. He easily recognises Nick and Maris’ usernames. The third one is a new. 

lisbethsander

It’s right there, hovering above her head. It feels a little invasive, even though her profile is public, and he’s friends with her friends, so really why shouldn’t he. A lot of the pictures of her profile seem to be of her research, with ones of friends, her cat and the odd vinyl record scattered in between them. There are places he has never heard of that she talks about with so much passion. Ruined remnants of things at surely were impressive at some point – not that they’re not impressive now. Some of it he can piece together, but a lot of it just flies right above his head. 

Lisbeth Sander.

He rolls the name around his mind for a while. It suits her. 

Finding her name like this feels a little odd, though. It feels as if he’s invading her privacy in some way. The longer he scrolls through her posts, the more he feels as if he’s gaining, at least, a little bit of an insight into her life. He finds a video of when she got a tattoo from Tasha, they’re laughing, singing along so poorly to the song playing over the sound system. Whenever the camera catches a glimpse of her, his chest feels that little bit tighter. 

He doesn’t know why he feels so hesitant. They got along well, she’s friends with his friends. It wouldn’t be weird if he would follow her. 

Vic hadn’t liked it when he’d spent time with other women. Tasha had rarely been over while they were together, and Mari had a very clear stance on the woman from the moment they’d met for the first time. 

That should have been enough of a sign. 

He taps the button before he can change his mind and tosses his phone onto the desk. 

Sometimes the voice in his head still sounds a little like Vic. It’s an awful, demanding thing. Maybe it had been just bad. Maybe the good had been the bits he had filled on his own. 

She’d been the one to ruin it, he tells himself. No matter how unapproachable he might have been at certain points during their stint, none of it justified fucking a shared friend in his bed. 

By the time he has dressed the bed again, it’s almost five. Nick had informed him at some point that most of them would head out for a couple of drinks later, which Noah had politely declined. Now that he’s alone in the house, he thinks that he should have gone with them. Maybe the distraction would have been good for him. They always go to the same place, so really there’s nothing stopping him from just joining the rest. The drive isn’t too long. 

He has to park a bit away from the bar. It is the middle of the week, but the place is usually packed. The campus isn’t too far from here either, so he figures that a lot of them will pile into the local bars as well, regardless of the weekday. Noah briefly wonders if Bee comes here sometimes. He’s never seen her when they go, maybe she’s not one for bars. 

The walk isn’t too bad. The air isn’t fresh, but it still feels good to not be cooped up inside for once. It’s starting to get really dark when he reaches the building. The light inside pours out onto the street. And he finds himself stuck in his tracks in front of the large window.

He watches the group — his group. He finds her almost immediately. She’s sitting between Tasha and Jolly. The latter has her wrapped up in a conversation about god knows what. For a brief moment, he feels like an outsider, like he doesn’t belong in there with the rest of them. It clutches at his chest, threatens to burrow itself back into the marrow of his bones. 

But the feeling quickly develops into something warmer. They’re all in there, the whole lot of them. Everyone he holds dear is gathered in one place. He tries not to let himself believe that they’re having a good time because isn’t there, that the laughter would still be there if he was in there with them. 

His eyes find Bee once again. The last time he had seen her, he had been too close to take it all in properly. It’s almost like he’s viewing a painting from the proper distance now, instead of standing right in front of it with his nose pressed up against the glass. He wonders if she's even aware of the magnetism she possesses, how people flock around her when she talks with that bright, burning passion. He hasn’t met a lot of people who manage to draw in crowds like that and still remain likeable enough for him to want to spend time with them. But then there’s Bee and that —

He’s fucked. 

Completely. 

Surely this is just a way for his brain to distract itself from the actual emotions that still mess with his sleep schedule. And even if this is something else, he’s hardly in the position to get involved with someone again. 

He watches as she detaches herself from the group and heads towards the counter for another drink. 

Noah slips into the door before she notices him lingering outside like some kind of creep. Instead of heading to the back to the rest of them, he sidles up next to Bee at the bar. 

“Who do we have here?”

Her head whips around, loose strands of hair falling from that already too loose ponytail. A range of emotions races across her face, and for a second he thinks that the surprise on her face is of the bad kind. 

“Didn’t know that you’d be here.” 

They talk for a while, and it’s just as easy as the first time. He wants to ask so many things. Burning questions that suddenly feel too invasive to ask now that they’re not really alone. It’s wrong, but he wants to keep her secluded to that quiet place where it’s just them, where he’s the only one that gets to listen to her. 

They do eventually join the rest at the back of the bar. He doesn’t miss the look Jolly throws him, but he tries not to think about it. He knows that he has to be careful. The feeling that is growing in his chest could easily turn bitter again. Noah is aware that the wound Vic has left behind in his chest is still too fresh to let someone else in. 

It doesn’t matter how long he tries to deny it. 

The damage is done, and now he has to deal with the fallout of it. 

Noah forces himself out of his thoughts. 

He’s surrounded by friends, if he keeps himself here, maybe he won’t drift back into that headspace. He listens to the stories people share, the jokes they’re telling, and he lets himself enjoy it. It doesn’t fix everything immediately, but it takes away some of the ache. He feels a little bit warmer, a little less caged in. 

The warmth rises further when he feels a set of eyes bore into him. Across from him, Bee seems to be entirely narrowed in on him. She stares – unblinkingly – for a little moment longer before her focus breaks and her cheeks turn bright pink. The brief trace of embarrassment dissipates quickly. She looks so awfully caught and – 

He knows the look her face devolves into.

Noah pushes himself up from the sofa he has sunk into. He stops by the armchair Bee is placed in “I’m getting more drinks, coming with?” 

She blinks up at him a few times before following him. 

He heads straight towards the far end of the counter, that so far is still empty. 

“What —”

“I know that look.” he tries to convey a sense of calm, “You don’t have to explain it.” 

Instead of the drinks he said he’d get, he orders a glass of water, the rest of them can wait. 

“This isn’t for you, huh?” he takes a look around the somewhat crowded room. 

They’d had this talk before, but he needs her to know that he understands the feeling that clutches at her. 

“Just a bad day.” 

Noah has used that same excuse often enough to know that this isn’t just a bad day. But he won’t pry, if she wants to share she will. 

“If it makes you feel better, I’m glad you came.” 

He doesn’t miss the little smile on her face. 

Noah watches as she downs most of her water in one go. He wants to ask how her week has been, if she’d thought about them as much as he had, but if he lets himself indulge in this feeling he runs the risk of either of them getting hurt. 

“I still have your sweater.” she says quietly. 

“Oh?”

He’d hardly thought about anything else. 

“I can go get it. My place isn’t too far from here.” 

The words are so rushed that he almost thinks that she’s trying to get rid of it. But with the way her fingers prick at the skin of her palm, he’s sure that it’s just nerves. 

“You really don’t have to.” 

“I wasn’t going to stay that long anyway. I have to work tomorrow, and I’ve already had a long day.” 

It’s adorable, he has to admit that. She’s trying so hard not to be a burden, not to be a cause for disruption when he wants nothing else. 

And worst of all, he doesn’t want her to go just yet. 

“I can walk you home.” he offers instead. 

It’s a two-in-one deal, really. He’ll get to be around her for a moment longer and maybe if he plays his cards right, he can get his hands on her number. 

She really doesn’t live too far from the bar. It’s just a short and sweet ten-minute walk before she stops in front of an older, multi-story building. 

“This is me.” She says, fishing a clunky set of keys from her back, “I’ll just pop upstairs and get the sweater.”

Noah gathers his wits. It’s not as if he hasn’t practised the line the entire way here.

“How about this…how about instead of that sweater you just give me your number, and we call it even?” 

It still comes out a little shakier than he had hoped. 

“You don’t want that back?” 

“Keep it. It looked good on you.” 

Her eyes find the ground in a futile attempt to hide the flush of her cheeks. She takes the phone from his hand anyway. Noah keeps his eyes trained on her while she types her number into it. 

He could watch her for hours. 

Their goodbyes are brief, but Noah waits until a light upstairs flicks on. Before he leaves, he snaps an admittedly dumb picture of himself and sends it to her. It’s easier than the words he wants to say. It’s still too tender. He doesn’t even know if she’d want him like that. 

Noah doesn’t go back to the bar, instead he takes the long route home. He values the company of his friends, but right now he needs the silence. He doesn’t know if he needs time to think or shut his brain off entirely. Neither option sounds like the best right now. 

He trots up the stairs and finds his way into his bedroom. Noah lets himself sink into the mattress of his bed. He lies in the silence for a while. It should feel bad to put Vic behind him so quickly. She made it easy, though. There’s no coming back from that. Even if it turns out that Bee isn’t interested in him after all, he needs to get over this mess, for his own sake. The tour will help, he’s sure of that, if anything it’ll take his mind off of it. 

When he picks up his phone to text Nick that he has gone back home, there’s a reply from Bee. A picture of her in the hoodie, the hood pulled up over her head and half of her face hidden behind her fingers. 

And wishes that it wouldn’t make him feel inside as warm as it does. 

[fandomficsnstuff]

Fire And Blood

(Warnings: Some slight fluff before we dive head first into a pool of angst my lovelies<3)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daisy was quiet as she waited outside the gates, her heart racing, yet she got a moment’s distraction when she saw the weapon her uncle had. “A fucking morning star?” she asked with shock and he turned to look at her “language” he reminded her but she just smirked and looked ahead “wish I’d found that one” she muttered and he scoffed with amusement, looking ahead “where’s what’s-his-name?” he asked casually and Daisy scoffed lightly “he’s-... getting ready” she muttered and he frowned at her, only to see Victor approach with two serrated swords, handing Daisy one of them and she turned to her uncle, shrugging lightly “a bow isn’t really useful here, is it?” she asked with a small shrug before looking ahead into the darkness, her heart racing as she dared to look up at Victor as he stood next to her, she almost felt her hands shake.

“Just so you know, I don’t think you can get infected from it” she blurted out and he looked down at her, frowning, “from what?”

“This,” she muttered, leaning up on her tiptoes and kissed him softly, her free hand holding the back of his neck but before he could truly kiss her back, she leaned back down, cheeks burning so hot he could almost see them in the darkness, a slightly bewildered but pleased look on his face as he slowly smiled at her while she avoided eye contact “you’re doing it again” she muttered and he scoffed lightly with a big grin “well, you kissed me-!”

“Mention it again, and I swear, I’ll kill you” she muttered harshly, but her burning cheeks said it all, making Victor smirk smugly “I’ll take my chances” he stated casually, looking ahead and she glanced up at him before glancing at her uncle, seeing him looking very, very displeased and she looked ahead quickly, clearing her throat awkwardly, looking at the approaching walkers with slight horror, thinly veiled behind a cold facade, the thin veil almost covering the horror. She flinched when something touched her hand and she looked down, seeing Victor’s hand in hers, and she intertwined their fingers, her heart racing, blood pumping, hands shaking. “When we survive this, you’re definitely teaching me to track” he leaned down and whispered in her ear, hearing her let out a shaky breath of a laugh “if we survive this…”

“When we survive this” he corrected and she looked up at him, tears forming in her eyes as she listened to the wires Eugene sat up cut through the walkers, a few of them running down her cheeks when she heard the fence give out. “I’m scared” she whispered, keeping her eyes locked on his face, as though she’d never see it again and he frowned at her, leaning down and kissing her gently, a peck, then another, then a final one before leaning back up “me too… so let’s get through this shit quick” he whispered and she nodded, her grip on his hand tightening as she looked ahead again, watching the herd stumble closer to the next line of defense. Some of the walkers tumbled into Daisy and Victor’s traps, they could even hear a few screams from a few Whisperers that got stuck in the traps, impaled on the spikes hidden underneath, clusters of walkers being drawn to that spot, lessening the load on the make-shift wall for a while, walker blood coating both Daisy and Victor as they joined the fight. Everything was chaotic. Chaos, horrifying, death, world-shattering, world-ending and too close. Everything was too close to slipping away. The Hilltop, the children inside, her uncle, Aaron, Rosita, even Eugene… everything was too close together. The walkers were too close, the Whisperers were too close, too close to everyone.

Suddenly, everyone was doused with some kind of sticky liquid, Daisy flinching and backing up as she looked down at her soaked clothes and body, a frown on her brows as she looked around at the others, soaked to the bone in whatever this was… it smelled faintly like pine, it had an odd amber color, the syrupy water sticking to the skin and clothes. Suddenly, flames appeared almost everywhere, arrows lit on fire landing both in the herd, the fence and the others, igniting everyone like gasoline and that’s when it clicked for Daisy. “It’s like gasoline!! It’s gasoline!!” she shouted at the top of her lungs, her uncle and Victor shouting the message just as loud to get it across, one of their own caught on fire, screaming in agony as he flailed around like a human bonfire, Daisy’s eyes wide in shock and fear as she watched him, her heart both racing and stopping at the same time as she stood still, simply watching him burn, fall to the ground, his screams piercing the night air, somehow louder than the fight but they soon died out, fading into nothingness as he stopped moving on the ground and she was frozen, watching his burning corpse.

It was like everything was sped up and slowed down at the same time, her eyes wide as she continued to stare at the burning corpse, she could smell his burning flesh over the scent of pine from the gasoline like sap and the walkers growling, everyone shouting something but she couldn’t hear them, all she heard was the crackling of fire and walkers, her head almost dizzy with the sound until someone grabbed her and nearly dragged her towards the gate, her head snapping to look up at who it was and it was as though she returned to her body or something, her head back in the fight and she ran towards the gate, Victor holding her hand tightly as he pulled her after him until she found her balance and joined him, sprinting away with the others to reach behind the gates, only to halt as the wall lit up on fire, both Daisy and Victor coming to screeching halt in the sandy gravel under them. It was like it was raining down fire on them, blood everywhere, on everyone, on their weapons, on their clothes, in their faces… it was everywhere. Fire and blood was everywhere.

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

Daisy turned around in the field, a frown on her face as she looked around, trying to get her bearings. She knew this field. It was her favorite. It’s where she meets him when she sleeps… was she asleep?... Was she dead?... Was this what death was like? A peaceful meadow, encased with calm woods around it, tall grass and soft sun… It sounded more like heaven than hell to her… but there were no clouds, no small inappropriately dressed boys with wings, no big bearded man or booming voice welcoming her to heaven…

She was alone in a beautiful meadow with silence all around her… She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, taking a shallow breath… then another… then a deeper one, and finally, one that filled her lungs entirely. She held it for one second, two, three, four, five… then let it out slowly. There was no sound around her, not even birds or insects or the wind, but she liked it… she could hear her own breathing, nothing distracted her… then she heard it. A faint sound… like a walker growling, she opened her eyes and turned her head towards the sound, finding no source, then, in her other ear, she heard something else. Someone screamed out in pain… then she heard more walkers, and more… more people screaming, people fighting, she smelt the horrible smell of burning wood, of burning flesh… She frowned as she looked around, trying to find the source but all she could see was the sweet meadow that she missed so dearly. The sound was all around her now. Fighting. War. Death. People screaming and fighting for their lives, her heart racing, chest tightening with fear as she spun around, looking aimlessly for the source of such horrible sounds when she saw him. Everything stopped when she saw him, every sound, every worry, every fear stopped and vanished and she couldn’t help but smile, hurrying towards him, wrapping her arms around him and she smiled, closing her eyes “am I dead?... Am I dead??” she asked in a whisper, parting from him, her hands on his shoulders as she smiled at him, looking him over. “Is this-... heaven? I always thought I’d be going to hell” she laughed with tears in her eyes, smiling even brighter when he smiled back at her “what makes you think you’re dead?” he asked and she scoffed “well, the hellfire that rained down on us and gigantic horde of walkers sort of gave it away” she stated with a scoff before stepping back from him and looking around. “So… what? We just spend eternity here?” she asked with amusement, looking back at Carl to see him frowning at her.

“What? What is it?”

“You’re not staying, Daisy…” he mumbled and she frowned at him, her heart starting to race and she forced a brief laugh “why not? I wanna stay here, with you…”

“You can’t…”

“But-”

“What about Victor?” he asked with a frown and she tensed up, hesitating before sighing “he’ll be fine. He made it out, I’m sure of it. And my uncle, he’ll survive anything, you know that” she stated with a forced smile and a shrug “you don’t think they’ll miss you? Wonder where you are?”

“I-... of course they will but-... I’m here… with you. Why can’t I stay?”

“I’m dead” he reminded her and she froze entirely, frowning at him “well... so am I, right?”

“No…” he admitted and she frowned even more “then… why-... why am I here?” she asked quietly and he stepped towards her, sighing lightly “you have to go back-”

“The hell I do! I’m here!”

“You don’t belong here… not yet… you’re not done…”

“I got my ‘after’... I’m okay. I’m ready-”

“They’re not” he stated with a soft smile, Daisy frowning at him as a few tears ran down her cheeks “they’ll be fine-”

“They love you… losing you would be what you felt when you lost me” he stated and she felt her heart stop at his words, her breath shallow “but… I’m here… all I’ve done is for others, for my family, for my friends!... Why can’t I have this?? Why??”

“Because it’s not your time… you know that… there’s still things to do, to see, to say… You can do things I can’t do anymore-”

“I-... don’t send me back… please” she begged quietly, watching him as he studied her before sighing “I can’t… but that doesn’t mean that you can stay here…” he whispered, stepping even closer to her, cupping her face lovingly in his hands and he leaned his forehead against hers “I’ll be waiting. It’s okay…” he whispered and she closed her eyes tightly, more tears running down her cheeks “I’ll hold you to that…”

“Just do me a favor… don’t pretend with Victor. It’s okay” he whispered and she was about to shake her head when she stopped herself, letting out a shaky breath as she finally decided, nodding ever so slightly. “I’ll wait here” he whispered and when she opened her eyes again…

She looked up at the trees above her, her eyes widening and she sat up straight, heart racing as she looked around in a panic, seeing Victor sitting there, watching him as he hurried over to her with some water “easy, easy” he whispered, unscrewing the top of the water canteen, offering it to Daisy and she reached for it, only to recoil in pain, hissing and shutting her eyes tightly before opening them again, looking down at her bloodied side. “I-I tried to cover it up as best as I could” he mumbled and she frowned, hands shaking as she lifted up her shirt, seeing a large gash that was closed with moss and scraps of duct tape, Daisy letting her shirt drop back down as she leaned against the tree trunk, sighing heavily and closing her eyes, Victor panicking “was that wrong? Oh my God-”

“No… perfect” she muttered, opening her eyes again to look at him, her eyes moving to the water and he edged closer to her, putting the canteen to her lips and tilting it forward slowly, allowing a small amount of water to pass her lips. He pulled the canteen away before it’d spill over and Daisy sighed as she swallowed the liquid, eyes closing again for a moment before she opened them and looked around, the pounding in her head slowly making itself known. “What… happened?” she asked quietly, turning to look at Victor who put the canteen away after putting the lid back on, sitting down on the forest ground next to her. “Well… we got back into Hilltop, behind the gates, the herd was slowing down at the gates and then a part of the walls fell, further up the hill… walkers were everywhere… one of those-... psychos with knives came at you, cut your side and pushed you into the wall, next to where the break was… you hit your head pretty badly…” Victor admitted and Daisy reached up, wincing in pain when she felt the dried blood caked in her hair, the roots of her hair stuck in the blood and it felt like she was pulling her hairs out when she touched the mangled, thick mess, making her drop her hand back down.

“Why is it always my head getting smacked around?” she asked in a mumble to herself before sighing again “did… Did anyone else make it out?” she asked quietly, closing her eyes again and Victor shrugged “I think I saw the kids and Earl, they got out. I think Alden got out too, with Kelly and that new girl, the Whisperer, he had Adam with him, I think… I think Lydia got out too…”

“My uncle…?” she asked hesitantly and he scoffed “I think he could survive an atomic bomb” he half-joked and she smiled with amusement, a tired smile, but a smile nonetheless. “You know, you’re really pretty when you smile-”

“I swear to God, I’ll-”

“Shoot me?-”

“Kiss you” she corrected softly, looking up at him and he looked down at her, giving her a boyish smile filled with charm, showing off the dimples on his cheeks “now, that’s a threat I wouldn’t mind” he muttered and she scoffed quietly, looking around the forest area “where are we?”

“I, uh… I think we’re near the rendezvous point” he stated as he looked around and she hummed quietly, a hand on her wounded side “how deep is it?”

“Uh…”

“Are my guts hanging out?”

“Nope.”

“Then we’re good” she muttered, wincing in pain as she tried to lean forward, Victor quickly helping her to her feet “I, uh… I couldn’t get to your bow” he admitted and she nodded “it’s okay… we’ll get to the others, but-... not yet… I have something I need to do first” she muttered and he nodded, gathering what little they had, which was basically nothing, and put her arm around his shoulder on the side where she wasn’t injured, helping her walk and supporting her. “So, where are we going?”

“The border” she muttered, Victor frowning at her before nodding, helping turn her around and walk towards the newly set destination.

[godkilller]

GIN'S VISITATION HOURS WERE GENEROUSLY OPEN WITH THE BELIEF THAT NOBODY WOULD COME TO SEE HIM ANYWAY, plus the hope that he'd, perhaps, let slip important information about Aizen Sousuke if asked the correct things by the right person. Central 46 wanted as much as they could get from him concerning the Hogyoku and Aizen's current immortal state, they wanted to know how to kill him -- to which Gin laughed, swearing they couldn't between the painful pulsing shockwaves sent via the Kido sealing his reiatsu to a low simmer. To them, he was merely remaining loyal to the man that almost killed him -- and maybe Gin was, to an extent, protective of the information he held concerning Aizen. Maybe he wanted to spitefully withhold whatever he could purely to tell them to go fuck themselves whilst bleeding on the ground.

It's not like he had anything else going for him, he might as well cling to whatever usefulness he retained, albeit the secret of Kyoka Suigetsu mattered very little these days considering no one would ever be allowed that close to Aizen without a veil already being dropped into place. That opening was forever gone, now.

But Central 46 didn't know that. So nag they did, the Detention Unit of the Onmitsukido sent in to routinely question him. If the bruises and scruffs across pale skin were not from the array of Gin's guards stationed nearby getting in the ocassional swipe at him, then they were delivered via the unit during their questionings. Gin reckoned nobody knew much about the operation, given its torturous qualities at times, and thus he wasn't one to share. He wasn't going to audaciously try to cry out about mistreatment, he knew nobody gave a shit anyways.

Izuru didn't answer Gin's query about why he was down here, what he was doing in a place like this -- and so Gin felt tempted to do the same, to ignore the question on whether or not someone hurt him. He'd nearly forgotten about the dried blood sticking silver strands together, clumped against his left temple, a dull throb distantly pulsing. He knew if he ignored the question, though, that Izuru would merely fill in the silence with his guesses.

❝ Hardly hurt, ❞ came a short answer. He spoke between bites, his stomach painfully displeased by the intake of such an intensely nostalgic favorite -- as though rejecting whatever happiness it could provide him to the point of pain. He didn't deserve it. But refusing to eat what Izuru brought would merely make matters worse, he couldn't win whatever he did -- so Gin ate them. He wasn't ravenous, but he also didn't drag the act out. Only a few slices remained as he spoke next.

❝ I don't mind, I like'em either way. ❞ Not a lie, he could endure quite a wide range of persimmon quality, he wasn't picky.

Remaining wrist retreated back past the cell bars once more with persimmon slice in tow, and Gin had to swallow thickly to avoid a tremor -- a slow shuddered breath kept itself captured in his ribcage and his heart hurt. It hurt. He felt homesick for a place he hadn't ever called home, not for a very long time. He wanted to go back to the Rukongai and curl up in the dirt there in the outskirts. Coil inward and cry. Wait there in the ground until birds started circling above, thinking him a collapsed potential meal. They wouldn't be wrong.

❝ Ah, I finished'em off? I got overeager, I suppose. Hah -- ❞ a dry laugh, weak and feeble as it was less than genuine. It died in his throat quickly, a croak. The grin strained at his lips, his eyes ached beneath lowered lashes. Burned. He swallowed again. ❝ Thanks for bringin' that, Izuru... ❞ A pause, then Gin shifted -- as though antsy, as though he felt raw, and the chains dragged against that roughened flooring whilst his legs moved to scoot himself back, shying away from the light's reach. His grin wavered, pained, before his head dipped back into the lengthy deep shadows cast across his cell.

❝ But you really shouldn't've. You don't haveta do this again. Y'don't haveta see me again. ❞

--- Cont. from here [x] || @godkilller

--- It did evoke melancholy, this day. And, strangely enough, a guilt he could barely swallow around. Despite the myriad of times his captain had assured him that he had no reason to feel guilty. There was no telling his body to banish that sickly feeling in his belly, the occasional difficulty to manage a full breath. There was no distraction great enough to keep him from visiting on a day like this, even if every other regular day he managed to scarcely think of his traitorous superior { Ex. Ex-superior }. Rose would grow upset if he knew where Izuru was right now. He had an inkling that his current captain did know, but.. As a courtesy, he'd kept his mouth shut. And perhaps he would keep that up, just for the day. Time would tell.

Equally, time would have to tell of Gin's acceptance of his gift, and the information it came with; a knowledge of the passing of time. Of what season was colouring the world outside these walls.

Izuru's lips pressed together, a thin, pale pink line. He'd not yet eaten today, but he almost figures it fitting. Why should his stomach be full, when Gin's so obviously wasn't. It seemed almost an affront, or a taunt. That was not-- He wasn't here for that. He has no answer, though, to that question. This place was drab, and filthy enough to scare even the simplest grunt without a neat streak, let alone one taught in the ways of meticulous medical sterility.. There should be no reason for him to voluntarily come here, to seek out a man that hurt him so deeply. But an explanation does not come. He shakes his head, almost imperceptibly.

Rats carry all kinds of diseases. He finds himself thinking.

The soft clinking of metal rouses him, and his gaze follows the noise to watch the other man abandon his dark, faraway corner. Izuru's nose curls involuntarily. There was no mistaking Gin for anyone else, given his colouring, or even the way he moved despite the decreased speed. Though, he seemed a shell of the man Izuru had known him as. How long had it been since he had come down here? Was this deterioration normal? -- No. No, Of course not. No deterioration, rapid or not, is normal. Given the circumstances.. Perhaps Gin even.. Looked alright. Izuru's eyes had not left him from the moment he shifted against the wall, to the moment he reached and took his first bite of the offered fruit.

The flash of rust in otherwise near-white hair catches his attention. "Did they hurt you- or did you--?" Izuru hears his own voice bounce off the walls. Does it sound thinner in the echo, or was that how it left his throat? Perhaps it was the lump there, that did it. Brought forth by his previous captain's smile.

He did miss it, when it did not come; that banter. Eyes quickly shifted to hands folded in his lap. Nostalgia is a liar, his friends would say. And yet. "I'm sorry if they're not as sweet.. It's a bit early.." It always was that way, the harvesting only just beginning as Gin's birthday came by.. Izuru never touched the stuff, of course, and he hadn't taste-tested this batch, either. He picked at the loose skin near his left thumbnail, not caring when he ripped it off and it started to bleed. He was watching the plate, rather than the man, as that hand repeatedly returned to it. Thin.. Sickly looking wrist, even for Gin's standards. It rivaled even Izuru's now, in how easily one might snap it.

He watched until the plate was empty, which happened seemingly from one blink to the next. "I.. Should have brought more.."

[huhustuff]

‎

𝐓𝐨𝐛𝐢 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 (𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧)

💫🧸🌤

Warning: not proofread

‎

___________________________________________

‎

Tobi is most of all a protective and a doting yandere.

He is always worried for your safety and well-being. The need to make sure that you are sheltered and content never leaves his mind. The worry burns him, makes his heartstrings twist and core feel like it's turning in on itself.

safe. safe. SAFE. you need to be safe. nothing can happen to you. nothing WILL happen to you. He has to make sure of it.

His big kind heart beats for you and gets erratic when you bless him with just a smile. Knowing that he made that precious sign of happiness appear, that he is making you’re content and protected - that is all he wants.

Tobi’s love for you is like a soft pillow of appreciation. soft kisses. lit candles that smell like vanilla or cherry blossoms. such sweet words that they make sugar seem bitter. getting fed ripe peaches cut into squares in a heart-shaped bowl. protective embraces. “Don’t worry baby, I will take care of everything”. fresh lavender tulips in the morning, for no special occasion. feeling light, like nothing is bringing you down.

It is certainly odd at first. The intense love and care can sometimes feel suffocating and unreal. Upon seeing your uneasy expression he tries to slow it down, he does try. But at the end of the day Tobi just wants to make you happy and assure your safety. 

Your happiness makes him feel twice the joy, it is almost addicting. 

The relationship dynamic and the flow of everyday life is completely up to you. Want to be completely independent, focus on your career - of course, if it makes you happy. Or do you want to stay at home and just enjoy a true stress-free life - he would be more than delighted to provide that lifestyle for you. He had the funds after all. He will slightly try to convince you to choose the latter option in case he notices you experiencing stress because of your job. But if you deny Tobi will drop the topic and just attempt to make your job easier if possible. Want him to be more affectionate or does it make you uncomfortable - whatever you prefer. Children, marriage, holidays, home - whatever you want. 

If you were to break up with him he would lose his calm. “What did I do please tell me. Did I displease you? I didn’t mean to, I swear.” Tobi would be extremely conflicted, he doesn’t want you to be with him when you don’t want to. But what if someone else can not dote on you as well as he does. What if you will be unhappy, not cared for enough. what if. what if. what if. “Please baby, I will be better. I promise. I swear”. But to be honest I can not see a reason why you would want to break up with him. He could never bring himself to force you into anything so if you are certain Tobi will have no other choice but to accept. But he will still continue taking care of you either from afar or up close. But please don’t do it. It will absolutely destroy him. If you want to be with someone else he will let you if it makes you feel content (he will try to show you that he can make you happier, but what’s new), just don’t leave him please.

The nicknames Tobi would use the most would be ‘honey’ - since he views you as a sweet bliss. or baby- because in his eyes you’re so precious he just wants to baby you.

Pure domestic bliss is his favorite thing to experience with you. Tobi would never limit you from living your life as you please because his heart would shatter if he somehow made you unhappy. But secretly he wishes nothing more than to just spend all days at home, just the two of you. In your own little safe haven where he can be sure you are safe and being treated only in the bestest way possible.

Rather than not seeing red flags he just doesn't mind them. His love is so intense that he lets you do anything, because he can't bring himself to deny you. You could literally punch him and he will be like: "it's okay honey, everything is alright". Not even noticing the pain on his face, he instantly goes to comfort you, worrying what made you feel so frustrated. Rushing to make sure you are alright.

He is so precious I swear to God.

1000/10 would recommend. ‎

‎

I hope you liked these lil headcanons and that you have a lovely day or night 💝🧸!!!

[denim-mixtapes]

Ain't No Hope in Hell | Nothing's Gonna Bring Us Down (Eddie Munson/Reader Smut)

Rating: E - Explicit Word Count: 4,702 Pairing: Eddie Munson/F!Reader Description:

When you walk in on your boyfriend cheating on you, confirming your suspicious, you only have one thing in mind.

Go out, have some fun, get some sweet revenge.

But being impulsive was never your strong suit, so you pay a visit to the worst influence you know, your childhood friend Eddie Munson, hoping he can sell you some courage.....and maybe help out with that revenge fuck too.

Originally posted to my AO3 on 7/3/22, this isn't copied, my friends just finally convinced me to make a tumblr.

The rapping at the trailer’s storm door grows louder and more demanding by the second, your knuckles burning, but you refuse to back down. Exasperated, you switch it up and give the door a harsh kick with the toe of your sneaker, groaning loudly. 

“Munson I swear to god, I’ll knock this damn door down myself if you don’t wake your ass up!” Another frustrated groan escapes your lungs as you take in your surroundings. His van is in the driveway, as is the half disassembled Harley he hasn’t been able to drive since his first senior year. Jumping off the set of stairs and walking around back to what should be his bedroom window, you can hear Motörhead’s Bomber on the other side of the wall, confirming your assumption that he must be home. 

“HEY!” You shout again pounding your fist on the glass once, then again with his name, “Munson!” 

A startled, “Jesus Christ,” comes in response, followed by a squawk and a commotion that can only be a startled body falling to the floor. Soon enough, though, you’re met with the wild, sleep-mussed hair and displeased scowl of Eddie Munson on the other side of the glass. His expression softens ever so slightly when he sees who it is knocking on his window at almost midnight, but he’s still sporting a tight-lipped frown as he throws the window open. “Well if it isn’t the girl next door…” His gaze flicks down to the ruffled denim skirt hitting the tops of your knees and then back to your face, “What the hell are you doing here?” 

You scoff, “Please, I haven’t lived next door to you in years, that nickname hardly fits the bill anymore.” 

He chuckles this time, rolling his eyes and leaning his elbows heavily on the windowsill, once again assessing your outfit and styled hair. It’s a far cry from the punky little tomboy he once knew, and he definitely doesn’t plan on letting you live it down anytime soon. “Well maybe not in the technical sense, but if the, uh,” another peek down to your sneakers, “Sperrys fit…”

“Whatever, move, I’m coming in.” 

There’s no time for protest from him before you push his elbows from the ledge and pull yourself up and into the room. The remnants of cigarette smoke and pot hit your nostrils as soon as you cross the threshold. Worn clothes and pizza boxes break your fall when you tumble inside. Eddie is crossing the room to turn down the music, and if he’s bothered by your sudden intrusion, he doesn’t seem to show it. 

While you stand and right yourself, dusting figurative (and probably literal) filth off of your skirt, Eddie makes his way back to his bed and throws himself onto it unceremoniously. “So,” he retrieves a half smoked blunt from the ashtray on the nightstand, lights it up, and takes a slow drag, breathing his following question out with the billow of smoke. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” 

Rocking back and forth from foot to foot, your fists ball up at your sides. 

This is stupid. This is so stupid. 

You aren’t friends. Not anymore. You haven’t spoken more than a word in passing in the hallway to this kid in over 9 years, not since your family came into a little bit of money and moved out of the trailer park in your 4th grade year. So what made you think he would hear you out? Listen to your sob story and take pity on you and make you some sort of deal? 

A choked out sigh escapes your lungs when he raises his eyebrows at your silence. 

“I need-” tears spring to your eyes and you will them to go away, to little success. “Fuck- I just…I need weed, dude. Or beer, or some company? I don’t even know?” 

In seconds, his cool, aloof demeanor dissolves and Eddie “The Freak” Munson is gone. In his place are the soft eyes and warm heart of that curly haired kid you used to skip rocks with in the river. “Shit, well here,” He leaps to his feet, crossing the room to you with the joint outstretched toward you. “I mean I’ll get you whatever you need to take home too but you look like you need this more than I do.” 

The tears finally spill out when you reply with a watery, “that bad, huh?” Instead of taking the joint, you brush past him and fall heavily onto the edge of his bed. You swear again. “I was supposed to be angry! I was supposed to fly over here in a blind rage and do this drug deal and, I dunno – go out and fuck somebody! I was supposed to be selfish and do shit to enjoy myself and be reckless! Not…this,” Eddie stares in concern as you wipe more tears from your cheeks. “God, I’m an idiot.” 

“Whoa, whoa, hey-” He follows, sitting on the edge of the bed with you and bumping his knee into yours, “Slow down, take a breath. I think I’m missing a chapter here. Why are we angry?” 

The use of we makes you chuckle through your tears. You stare at your hands, fingers twisting together subconsciously, and rest your head on his shoulder.

When you speak, it’s to the floor. “Walked in on my bastard boyfriend cheating on me.” Eddie tenses beneath you, but lets you continue. “I don’t even know why I’m crying. The signs were all there. I pretty much knew , but seeing it really sucked. So I thought, okay, no worries, just go out and do something crazy. Get revenge immediately , so you don’t have time to be sad about it, but being reckless was never really my thing, so I figured I would need something to take the edge off first-”

“And who better to get you that something than Eddie the freak, huh?” 

It’s your turn to soften your expression at his words. 

“Well, no, not in so many words. I just happened to hear on the grapevine that you could help with that sort of thing. I mean, it's no real secret what you do in those woods behind the school…and I knew where to find you.” 

Both of you laugh at that. He was always a little dramatic and quick to take offense, but you suppose that’s easily done when the whole town uses him for target practice. Another few moments of quiet pass, until he lets out another light chuckle and rests his head atop yours. “Have you ever even been high before?” 

Your “yes!” is a little too quick and incredibly telling. 

“So no, then?” He asks, a tease behind his words. 

Your head falls into your hands, embarrassed, “yeah, no.” 

“So what did you think was going to happen when I sold to you?” Another laugh, “what were you gonna do, go to the library at midnight and look up ‘drug use’ in the encyclopedia?” 

“I don’t know,” you sigh, “I guess I wasn’t thinking.” 

Eddie doesn't know what it is that makes him want to help. The sale was dangling right in front of him the whole time, he could just make the sale and send you on your way, after all it shouldn’t matter to him what’s done with the weed once the money is in his hands. But it does. He can sense your frustration and Hell knows he’s been there himself, so he finds himself giving a sigh of his own and reaching under the bed for his little black tackle box. 

“Alright, c'mon!” He exclaims, scooting up the bed and turning to face you, cross legged. He pats the spot on the mattress opposite him and flicks open the box. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. We are gonna get you high, get you feelin’ good, and then - if you so choose - I can send you on your merry way for your little revenge fuck.” 

That makes you bark out a laugh, but his eyes are twinkling wish mischief, and it’s exactly the push you need to stop whining and do something about your foul mood. You turn to him and tuck your feet under you, watching as he pulls items from the box between you. 

He rolls a fresh joint, packing it and explaining himself as he goes, should you want to do this for yourself next time. You listen intently, ever the good student, and nod along with his explanation, up until he brings the joint to his mouth to seal it. Maybe it’s just the amusement in his expression, or the proud smirk, knowing he’s at least somewhat responsible for your foray into rebellion (even if it is as minor as illicit drug use), but when his tongue darts out to wet the paper, you’re transfixed. 

“Got it?” 

His question startles you from your focus on his mouth, and you can feel your cheeks heating, hoping to God he didn’t notice. Giving a little nod, you say, “yeah, think so.” 

“Rock on,” he grins wide, lighting it before quickly passing it your way. “Ladies first.” 

You pluck the joint from between his fingers, and hesitate as you bring it to your lips. Unsure of what to expect, but not wanting to turn back now, you decide to just go for it and inhale with a little too much false confidence and enthusiasm. The smoke burns as it fills your lungs, clawing at your throat on the way down and sending you into a fit of coughs. 

“Ah, shit,” he rasps, lumbering over you and off the foot of the bed, leaving you confused and still coughing alone in his room. He returns quickly and presses a plastic cup of water into your palm, rubbing between your shoulder blades soothingly. “I should have known that was going to happen, Christ. My bad.” 

It takes another few moments for you to calm down from fits of coughs to small hiccups, sipping on the water gently with even more redness in your cheeks. When it finally stops, you giggle and pinch the bridge of your nose, “so that was wrong, right?” 

“Not….wrong,” he laughs, “just not ideal. I have an idea, here…” He knocks the lid closed on the box and sets it to the floor, then comes back to a kneel in front of you. “Have you ever heard of shotgunning?” 

“Beer, yes,” you furrow your brow, “and I’m no expert but I'm almost positive that it doesn’t work the same here.”

Wrinkles sprout in the corners of Eddie’s eyes when he smiles at your comment. He’s holding back a laugh, you can tell. “You would be correct.” 

“Alright, enlighten me.” 

“Gladly.” He takes the joint back from your grasp and sits back on his heels. “This will help take a little bit of that sting away, and it might actually help you start slowly, since this is your first time. It’s always a little weaker on the receiving end.” 

Raising an eyebrow, you repeat, “receiving?”

The mischief is back in his expression, brighter than before, and he nods. “So I’m gonna take a hit, right? And then - here’s the uncomfortable part - we’ll have to get real close, and as I exhale, you’ll inhale. Kind of like an asthma inhaler, except unprescribed and way more fun.” He grins wider when you giggle at his joke. “Sound okay?” 

“I think, I guess just lead the way and we’ll see,” you answer with a shrug and shift up onto your own knees to get on his level. 

You can feel your heart in your throat as you watch him bring the joint to his lips and take a deep pull. With his free hand he reaches out for you, palm resting on the side of your neck and pulling you toward him. You’re acutely aware of his nails scratching absently at the nape of your neck, and the cool bite of his rings against your jawline. He stops just centimeters from your lips and lets the smoke billow towards you. Your breath hitches as you remember what you’re meant to be doing, and you inhale much slower this time. It’s dizzying, but you’re not sure if it's the buzz or Eddie’s proximity. When he’s finished his breath, he stays put for just a beat longer, looking down at you with lidded eyes and a lazy smirk. 

“Better?” He asks, dropping his hand and pulling away before things get weird. But you’re rooted in place, still sitting up on your knees and your eyes still closed. 

Biting your lip, you can’t help but smile at the pleasant buzz that fills your head without the distraction of choking this time. “Much.” 

“Cool.” The tape clicks in the player as it comes to an end, and he points toward it, wordlessly signaling that he’s going to go change it. As he flips through a messy pile of tapes, trying to decide which one best fits the mood, you move up to the head of the bed to lean against the wall. Motörhead is replaced with what you think is Metallica, but it must be their newest album because you can’t quite place it, and before you know it he’s joining you on the bed again. “Wanna go again?” 

You nod with an eager smile, and he mirrors it. 

That’s how things go for quite some time, passing time between hits with music and comfortable quiet. At one point Eddie asks if you wanna give it a go on your own again, but your only response is to wrinkle your nose at him. If he’s bothered by your need for his help, he doesn’t ever show it, only smiles wider and wider as he leans in to fill your lungs with smoke. You never quite get used to the way he holds your face or neck as he passes the smoke from his lips to yours. He didn’t really have to guide you after the first time, but there’s something about his grip on your face that pools warm in your stomach, so you keep letting it happen. 

By the time the joint has burnt down to nearly nothing, you’re comfortably loose. Your limbs feel heavy but your mind is clear, if anything maybe a little impulsive. Exactly what you had set out to do. 

On the last drag, Eddie’s thumb strokes your cheekbone, not yet pulling away after you take in the last of the smoke. 

“So how are ya feeling?” He asks, his voice gravelly and the hint of a laugh behind it. “Still sad? Pissed? Ready to go out and fuck someone?” 

The last question is a joke, you can tell from his tone, but he’s even closer now, and as he teases you, his lips just barely brush yours. You definitely didn’t mean for that whimper to come out audibly. His fingers flex against your skin, his other hand tentatively reaching out to rest on your waist. 

“Maybe I don’t have to go out looking for someone?” You ask, looking at him from under your lashes. It’s not the most clever line you’ve come up with, but it does the trick. He swallows thickly and gives a tight nod before the hand on your cheek moves to tangle posessively in your hair as he closes the gap between you. His lips devour yours hungrily, and your arms wind around his neck, desperately trying to pull yourself as close to him as possible. His tongue darts out, seeking permission at the seam of your lips, and you gladly open up to him, letting out a soft moan as his tongue explores your mouth. 

Your skin is flushed and hot, the air around you sticky. He smells like leather and tastes like smoke and you can’t get enough, reaching up to fist your hands in his hair. When you tug on it, he breaks the kiss with a needy groan and rests his forehead on your own, both of you breathing raggedly. 

“Are you sure you want to do this? Not that I’m not happy to oblige…” the hand on your waist travels downward to palm at your ass and pull you against this growing arousal, and he smirks, “I just don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret.” 

Tipping his chin up with your forefinger, you shake your head, “I won’t regret shit.” Then, sitting back on your heels, you unbutton your sweater, shrug it off, and toss it aside. You lay against his pillows in just your skirt and baby pink lace bra, and his stare heats you from the inside out. 

Eddie lets out a long breath as he takes in the expanse of your stomach and exposed collarbone, biting back a lopsided smile and muttering, “you minx.” He reaches back to pull his Hellfire tee over his head, revealing a smattering of patchwork tattoos across his torso. Mesmerized, you reach out to caress the ink across his sternum and down his stomach, his muscles twitching beneath your touch. He doesn’t let that go on for too long, however. He’s itching to get his hands on you, and swiftly grips your wrists in one hand and holds them high above your head. “Not so fast, sweetheart,” he warns playfully, caging your hips in with his knees and leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth, “keep ‘em up.” 

You shudder at the command, but keep your hands in place as he lets go and starts to make his way down your body, leaving a trail of kisses and nips in his wake. Every inch of skin he sees, he works over with his mouth. He licks a deliberate stripe up the column of your throat, inhaling your scent in the crook of your neck. His teeth catch on your collarbone, soothing over the nip with his tongue.Your skin pinks wherever he goes, flushing at the attention. When he makes it to your bra, he smiles coyly up at you, twirling his finger in the ribbons of the little bow where the cups meet. “How cute,” he chuckles, trailing his finger up along one cup, before hooking into each one and yanking them down, exposing your breasts to the cool night air. 

Your nipples pebble at the chill, but it isn’t long before his mouth is on you, sucking a dark purple mark into the swell of your breast, dragging his tongue across the sensitive bud, and moving to give attention to the other side. Every swipe of his tongue and nick of his teeth is sending waves of pleasure straight to your core. You press your thighs together in an attempt to quell the ache, but it does no good.

Eddie moves lower still, laving kisses down your sternum, across your stomach, dipping his tongue into your navel, and drinking up every last whine and desperate sound you make. 

When he reaches your skirt, he pauses, waiting for a nod from you before unbuttoning and dragging it down your thighs. You kick it the rest of the way off, and flush even deeper under his intense stare. 

He’s leaned back on his heels again, hands gently moving up and down your thighs with featherlight touches. “You’re incredible,” he muses, shaking out his hair with a dreamy smile, and bends so that he’s face to face with the wet spot on your panties. He whispers again, “fucking beautiful,” before mouthing at your mound through the slick fabric. 

You let out a wild moan involuntarily, before realizing what he’s doing, and cut yourself off. Running your fingers through his hair you mumble, “wait, no, you don’t have to…do that.” 

He looks at you quizzically, concern and confusion in his eyes, but he retreats nonetheless. “Do you not like it?” 

“Well, no, I don’t know…” you mumble again, “but isn’t it…gross?” 

A new emotion, anger flares in Eddie's eyes as it dawns on him what you’re implying. “Are you telling me that asshole never went down on you? Because he finds it gross ?” The scoff that follows is borderline offended. 

You cover your face, burning red under his scrutiny. “He said everyone felt that way. Made me feel ashamed for being curious about it. I don't know, its stupid. You don’t have to do it.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” his eyes darken as his gaze falls to your panties once again. He toys with the waistband absently and smiles, “all the more reason for me to do it.” He places a kiss at the inside of your thigh, just above the knee. “What if I told you…” Another one, higher now. “...I don’t just like eating pussy…” And another, just below your hip, he bites down harder on the sensitive flesh and soothes it with a swipe of his tongue. “...but I fucking love it?” He doesn’t move to go any further, but awaits your response and looks at you eagerly from his spot between your legs. “Would you let me do it then?” 

With a shaky breath, you take your bottom lip between your teeth and nod, completely unsure of what you’ve gotten yourself into. 

Now that he has your permission, he’s wasting no time dragging the ruined fabric down your legs and returning to his spot between them. He stares at your core with hunger in his eyes and a look of pride. Reaching out to spread your lips, he bites his lip with glee. “Fuck, baby,” he groans, “you’re so wet.” You’re unsure how to respond, or if you even should, but luckily he leaves you no time to. No faster than the words left his mouth, he leans in and licks a long, flat stripe up your cunt, circling when he reaches your clit and making you cry out. 

This sensation is all new, and you jolt when he repeats the action, savoring every reaction he can pull from you. You gasp as his tongue dips into you, and the bastard actually laughs, puffing warm air against your wet folds before moving back up to tongue at your clit. 

He drags two fingers up and down through your juices teasingly, and only when you let out a desperate whine does he thrust them both into you, pumping them in and out and stroking your walls with a come-hither motion. He licks and sucks and draws patterns with his tongue around his fingers like a man starved. Thick, heavy rings bump your lips as he pumps his fingers, and the cold metal is an intoxicating contrast to his hot mouth. 

“ Eddie! ” You cry his name, forgetting your previous orders and reaching down to tangle your hands in his hair in an attempt to bring him even closer. He doesn’t argue, only groans into your core, the vibrations from the sound spurring your further on. 

It doesn’t take long before it all becomes too much, there are too many sensations, your orgasm building too fast. You barely utter out a weak, “ Eddie, I'm gonna- ,” in warning before your thighs are tensing around him and you’re crying out your release with a firm grip on his locks.

He works you through your orgasm, letting up but not fully stopping until your thighs stop shaking and your breathing returns to normal. Even then, he places a final, soft kiss directly on your clit that has you clenching around nothing as he withdraws his fingers. 

Crawling back up your body with a shit eating grin and licking your release from his fingers, Eddie fucking Munson has the audacity to ask, “So what do you think now?”

“Shut the fuck up,” you mumble with a breathy laugh and pull him down for another hungry kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and his chin is still wet with your release, and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced. As he licks into your mouth, he grinds his hips down into yours, and you moan at the contact, his cock hard and wanting behind the barrier of his sweatpants. “ I think, ” you gasp into his neck, “I think I need you inside me, Munson.” 

“That can be arranged,” he growls, nipping at your lower lip before reaching out to search the bedside table. 

In a move that’s so incredibly Eddie Munson, he kicks off his sweatpants and briefs clumsily, making you giggle at his struggle, but silences you quickly with a stern look. 

You take a moment to collect yourself, breathing deeply and looking up at the ceiling as he tears into the condom packet with his teeth. You don’t know when you closed your eyes, but his lips on yours are a delightful surprise, as is the head of his cock notching perfectly at your entrance, making you gasp. He tugs on your lip again, breathing out, “you ready, sweetheart?” 

“Fuck,” you mumble, and nod vigorously, groaning out a soft, “ yes .”

He fills you slowly, letting you adjust to his size until he’s fully sheathed inside you. You both let out a simultaneous moan when he bottoms out, his far more restrained than yours, and his forehead falls to rest on yours. His hands bring yours above your head once again, and he pulls out just as slowly, only to thrust back into you so hard you scream. Shifting his grip on your wrists to one hand, he reaches down to caress your cheek as he fucks into you relentlessly. He’s at the perfect angle for the head of his cock to stroke your g-spot on every pass, and it has you breathless. Your pleasure pools in your belly, threatening to snap at any moment. 

Eddie’s thumb strokes at your bottom lip, tugging. You wrap your lips around his thumb, swirling your tongue around the tip, and he groans, looking up to the ceiling, his hips stuttering. 

You let out a soft, “ please, ” as he reaches for your clit, thumbing at the bundle of nerves, working in tandem with his cock. 

“I know, baby, I know,” he whispers, engulfing your mouth with his own and moaning into the kiss as your walls flutter around him. “Let go for me,” he urges, his movements becoming more erratic by the second. He won’t be far behind you. 

Your second orgasm shatters through you, and you whine his name. Your hands fist in the sheets above you, unable to move anywhere else in Eddie’s grasp, and you gasp, your vision blurring out of focus as he fucks you through your high. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, shuddering as he thrusts once, twice, three more times and stills inside you, biting your neck with his release. 

Letting go of your hands, he giggles as he grips your chin and pulls you into a surprisingly chaste kiss, he actually giggles, and you can’t help but dissolve into a fit of laughter with him. 

You whine at the feeling of emptiness when he pulls out, but your cheeks are warm and he kisses your forehead, telling you to wait here before he ducks out of the room again and returns with a warm wet washcloth. 

With a teasing tone, you toe at his thigh as he gently cleans you up. “You know, I didn’t take you for the – mmh,” you pause for a needy moan as he strokes your overstimunlated cunt with the cloth, “the gentlemanly type.”

Throwing the towel toward the closet, he chuckles, “yeah, well. I’m full of surprises.” He crawls under the covers, lifting an edge for you to crawl into, and asks, “you wanna stay? Or…?” The vulnerability in his voice squeezes at your heart, and you do take his offer, curling into his chest and tracing the ink on his skin absently with the tip of your finger. 

“ And I get to stay the night?” You giggle, “you do this after all your drug deals, Munson?”

There’s a long pause, and a content sigh that you can feel deep in his chest. He kisses the crown of your head and runs his fingers through your hair, then laughs out his response. “Only the ones I really like.”

[angelasscribbles]

Eidolon Chapter 8: Disclosures

Series: Eidolon

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: None right now, busy being haunted

Rating: MA

Warnings: HORROR

Word Count: 2,530

My other stuff: Master List.

“Your Grace, your aunt is here to see you. Should I send her up?”

Olivia nodded to the guard, “Thank you, yes.”

Lucretia had not stepped foot in the palace for close to three hundred years. She did not have fond memories of it.

Lucretia Nevrakis was drug from her cell and deposited in front of the queen in her private chambers.

Despite two years in the cells, she was not broken. She stood in front of the queen with her spine ramrod straight, her chin up and determination sparkling in her eyes. “What do you want?”

“That’s how you greet me?” Merida laughed, “After two years?”

Lucretia shrugged, “You and I both know the only thing keeping me from ripping your heart from your body right now are these.” She lifted her arms, lead shackles gracing each wrist.

Lead. The one metal that could dampen and weaken a witch’s power.

“About that….” Merida smiled, “How would you like me to remove them?”

Lucretia’s raised her eyebrows, “I’m listening.”

“First, I would need assurances that you won’t seek revenge for your imprisonment.”

The witch smirked, “Of course not. All I desire is to be freed from my unjust imprisonment, Your Majesty. As you know, I have always maintained my innocence.”

“An entire village is dead.”

“Of smallpox! Not every misfortune is witchcraft!”

“And yet children from that village taunted you and killed your cat.”

Lucretia tamped down the anger that flared through her, “My familiar. Yes.”

“Hmmm.”

“I’ll do it.”

“You’ll do what?”

“Whatever this favor is that you require in exchange for my freedom.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“Don’t you want to know what it is? Don’t you care if it’s something that will hurt another?”

“Not really.” Lucretia managed to sound bored. “If it secures my freedom, I’ll do it. And I’ll swear an unbreakable blood oath not to ever harm a hair on your head. And you will swear never to imprison me again, for any reason. Let’s let bygones be bygones, my queen.”

A blood oath was bound by magic with blood from both parties. To break one was death.

Merida smiled, “Excellent. So glad you see reason.”

Lucretia smiled serenely at her queen. The mortal fools never paid attention to what she didn’t promise.

“Niece.” She greeted as she entered the prince’s private sitting room.

“Great Grandmother.” Olivia greeted her back.

“Are you crazy?” Lucretia hissed, “Someone might overhear you!”

“The only person in the room right now is unconscious.” Liv returned evenly, “I need to know about the serving girl that was cursed three centuries ago.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s back. Or her ghost is haunting the palace. I need to know exactly what happened here, what your role was. You were the witch that cursed her, no?” Olivia’s voice held accusation.

Lucretia’s voice held indignation, “Not because I wanted to!”

“Oh, were you forced?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“So, you could have said no?”

“I could have said no and spent the rest of my, probably short, life in the cells that lie beneath our feet! Then you wouldn’t be here! Your mother and grandmother would have never been born!”

Olivia relented, a little. “Can you at least tell me why you chose this particular curse?”

“I didn’t choose it!” The older woman scoffed, “I simply channeled the queen’s intention and let the spell craft itself.”

“You’ll need to be very specific so I can bend the spell to your desires.”

“I want her to suffer as I have suffered! I want her never to be able to go near him again, never to be able to touch him again!”

“You want her touch to be displeasing to him?”

“I want it to burn! I want it to hurt!”

“This step is very important. You need to think very hard about exactly what your intention is. Here.” Lucretia thrust a glowing stone into her hand, “Focus your energy on this stone and really think about what you want.”

Merida cradled the stone in her palm and let her thirst for vengeance poison her thoughts. She funneled all of her hurt and anger and desire for suffering into it.

Olivia sighed.

Mortals never understood the scope of the things they wished for.

Magic came with consequences. Everything had a price.

“I’m going to need to know everything.”

~~~~~

Drake stirred, shifting in the bed and lifting his hand to shield his eyes against the brightness of the light pouring through the windows.

His mouth was dry. His head hurt. It felt like the worst hangover he’d ever experienced in his life.

“Drake! You’re awake!” Liam grabbed his hand, “Thank God! Liv! Liv, he’s awake!”

“Shhh,” Drake winced against the loud voices, “Shit, you’re loud!”

Max laughed, “I think that’s a good sign!”

“Beaumont? What are you doing here?” Drake asked, lifted his head to glance around the room.

“Worrying about you, dipshit!”

Olivia placed a hand on his forehead, “No fever, that’s good. Your aura looks good. Not full strength yet, but it’s well on its way! How do you feel?”

“Like…shit.”

“You scared us to death, Drake! Why the fuck didn’t you use the amulet?”

“Sorry, Liv….” He croaked, “Water?”

“Here.” Liam handed him a cup.

He pulled himself into a sitting position and downed the water quickly. Holding the cup out toward Liam he asked, “More, please?”

Four glasses of water later he took note of his surroundings, “Why am I in Liam’s bed?”

“We couldn’t move you very far.” Liam replied wryly, “You’re heavy!”

That got a small laugh from him, “Fair. How long have I been out?”

“Three days.” Olivia answered.

“Three days?” He looked at her in alarm, “I’ve been out for three days?”

“Yes, Drake, don’t act so fucking surprised! You had your aura stripped almost completely away from your body! That takes time to heal from! You almost died, you idiot!”

Right. Because he hadn’t used the amulet. He grimaced, “You were right, all of you. I’m sorry.”

“Yes!” Max jumped up from his chair, “I told you there was a ghost! I told you she was a succubus! I told you not to provoke her!”

“I didn’t! She attacked me for no reason!” Drake grimaced.

“So, you admit I was right?” Liv sounded amused.

“Yes, Liv! Fuck. But answer one question for me….”

“What?”

“If you knew about all this, why didn’t you warn him about that throne room?”

“Because I didn’t know! I mean, I didn’t remember! Yes, I have access to ancestral memories, but there are so many of them, it’s hard to pay attention to all of them, so I mostly block them out. Until I need one and it forces its way to the forefront of my mind. Like when I came back from Lythikos that day and found out what he’d done!”

Turning to Liam, she continued, “If I had known you were going to open up that throne room and rip out those walls, I would have stopped you. Maybe in the future, tell me things, ok?”

Liam’s mouth fell open, “Like I could have known you would have relevant information about the ghost in the wall! Maybe if I’d known you were a witch! Talk about withholding relevant information!”

Liv held her hands up in front of her, “Touché! From now on, we tell each other everything, alright?”

“Agreed.” Liam answered.

Drake cut in, “Okay, okay. Mistakes were made on both sides. Now we just need to figure out exactly what’s going on with this….succubus….”

“Oh, we know the whole story.” Olivia answered him.

“What?” He looked between them in shock, “How?”

“A lot has happened in the last three days, Drake.”

“Oh yeah, like what?”

Olivia and Liam exchanged glances.

“For one, I’ve spoken to Rezna.” Liam said carefully.

“That’s the succubus’ name!” Max supplied.

The name tugged at his memory. He wasn’t ready to talk about that though. Instead, he asked, “So she actually spoke to you? Gave you answers?”

Liam nodded.

“And you believe her?”

“Yes. Her story has been corroborated.”

“By who?”

“Lucretia.” Olivia answered.

Drake turned his head to look at her, “Your grandmother aunt?”

“Hahaha, but yes.”

“When did she get here?”

“She arrived last night. She had quite the tale to tell us.”

“So, are you going to let me in on it?”

“Yes.” Liv answered, “But let’s get you fed first.”

“And showered.” Liam agreed.

“Fine. I agree to your terms, but only because I also have to pee. A lot.”

Two hours later, after an empty bladder, a shower, clean clothes and a hot meal, Drake was ready.

He lifted his eyes when Lucretia entered the room. She looked like a harsher, older version of Olivia. His voice held accusation as he greeted her without preamble, “So, you’re the witch that did this to her?”

Lucretia betrayed no emotion as she regarded him, “And you are the reincarnation of her lover?”

He winced, glancing around the room. How did she know that?

“Um…Rezna told me.” Liam answered his unasked question. “It’s what saved your life. She recognized you at the last minute and was able to stop. She’s never been able to control it before. Once the feeding starts, she doesn’t stop until the victim is dead. It was part of the spell that was cast on her.”

“So why was she able to stop before killing me?”

“Because she loooooveees you!” Max singsonged.

“Really?” Drake shot him a withering glance, “I almost died, and you’re about to break into song?”

“Sorry, but it makes sense. Right?”

“Perhaps.” Lucretia nodded then turned her attention back to Drake, “Do remember anything else about that life?”

“Not much, bits and pieces, fragments, like a half-remembered dream. It…doesn’t seem real….”

“Just tell us what you can remember.” Olivia coaxed.

Drake thought for a moment then told them, “There was a ball, we went back to her room after. Like I said, it’s just fragments, more like flashes of moments. I remember leaving the next morning.”

Rezna rolled over when she felt his warmth leave her. She watched as he cracked the door open. Soft voices murmured in the hallway, then he closed the door and started rooting around for his clothes.

“Where are you going?”

His head came up and he made his way back to the bed, taking a seat on the edge, “I’ve been summoned by my captain. I have to deliver a message to Ramsford. It’s a weeks ride, so I’ll be back in a fortnight.”

“I’ll miss you.”

“And I’ll miss you, but when I get back, we’ll start planning our wedding, ok?”

“Okay.” She giggled, “But do you have to leave right now?”

“Why? What did you have in mind?” He bit into his lower lip as he rolled back onto the bed and pulled her on top of him.

Thirty minutes later, he lay on the bed smiling up at her. She was on top of him, legs spread around him as she leaned forward with a bright smile, her long locks spilling into her face as she crooned, “I love you, Gawain.”

He reached up to cup her cheek, love spilling through his heart, “I love you too, Rezna. I can’t wait to marry you!”

“Something happened to her, after I left, didn’t it?”

“Yes.” Liam answered.

“What did she tell you about that night?” Lucretia asked.

She stirred in the darkness, confused. What had woken her? A noise. Someone was in her room, “Gawain?”

No answer. She sat up, fear striking through her, “Who’s there?”

Unseen hands pulled her from her bed.

She struggled, her arms flailed out, her legs kicked, she tried to scream.

A cloth was placed over her face. She sucked in a deep breath; the sweet scent of ether coated her mouth and filled her lungs.

She fought for consciousness and lost.

“What happened to her was awful, Liam.” Olivia watched him closely, “But she has to be stopped. I’ve asked my aunt here to help us do that.”

“She won’t hurt anyone if she can feed on me!” Liam insisted.

“But look at you! You may be alive, but you’re weak, you’re sickly, you have no energy! You can’t run a country like this! You can’t live like this!” Olivia yelled at him.

“She’s right, Li.” Drake interjected.

Liam turned to him in astonishment, “How can you say that? You loved her!”

“In a life I don’t remember!” Drake was sure Liam was losing his mind, it must be one of the effects of the succubus, he didn’t see the situation clearly, “In this life she almost killed me!”

He hadn’t believed in reincarnation before, but he could not deny the memories he’d had, or the fact that her recognition had saved him.

“You know we just want you to be ok, right, Li?” Came from Max.

Liam blew out a frustrated breath, “Okay! Okay! But does stopping her mean we have to hurt her? Isn’t there a way to break the spell?”

“Hurt her? She’s already dead, Liam.” Olivia said.

“She’s not.” Lucretia replied.

“What?” All four chorused together.

“She didn’t die inside that wall. She starved, she weakened, but her essence survived.”

Liam gaped at her, horrified, “She was aware all that time?”

Lucretia waved a hand dismissively in the air, “Think of it as a state of suspended animation. She was aware in the way a dreamer is aware.”

“You knew she was there, and you didn’t try to help her?” Drake’s voice was quiet, serious, belying his earlier assertation that he didn’t care what happened to her.

The older Nevrakis shrugged, “They witch proofed that throne room. There was nothing I could do. And to let her out was to doom more men to die.”

“But it wasn’t her fault.” Liam repeated. “Please tell me there’s a way to break the spell and set her free.”

Lucretia smiled, “Perhaps.”

Rezna awoke chained to a table. A woman with fiery red hair stood over her, her face gaunt, her wrists bloody as though she had recently been restrained herself.

“Who are you? What’s happening? Why are you doing this?” She struggled vainly against her restraints.

“I’m sorry, dear. It’s nothing personal.” Lucretia had planned to simply double cross the queen and leave once her restraints had been removed, but Merida had included casting the spell for her in the blood oath. She had to do it to secure her own freedom. But at least she could include a way to break the spell in it.

Mortals and their lack of thoroughness almost always left her a loophole.

“Are you sure she’s worth saving?” Lucretia asked.

“Of course she is!” Liam answered, “None of it was her fault!”

“Oh, some of it was her fault.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You cursed her, the queen ordered it, what, exactly, was her fault?”

“You didn’t see the rampage she went on. Did she tell you that part?”

“What rampage?”

It didn’t matter. Whatever she had done, he was sure there was a reason. Liam didn’t want to kill her, or hurt her.

He wanted to save her.

[littlemissnoname13]

hi could you please make a part two to feeling colors, i LOVED your writing in it. no rush :))

Hiii nonnie! 💕 I did end up writing a second part for the fic after all. I hope you like it as much as the first. X

Feeling Colours - Part Two

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Reader

Word count: 2500 give or take

Summary: Draco’s feelings for the reader start to grow

Warnings: fluff, excessive drinking, mentions of throwing up, kissing, nothing explicit, Draco being a softie (lmk if this needs more warnings)

Masterlist | Part One 

Your eyes fluttered open to find Draco Malfoy sitting on a chair next to you, breathing quietly like sleep was finally hitting him. Ruffled blond strands of hair fell over his weary eyes and he’d used his suit jacket as a makeshift blanket. 

Your first instinct was to silently lift up your covers and check if your clothes were still intact and thank Merlin they were. 

“Have a little faith Y/n.” Draco grumbled, startling you in the process as he struggled to lift himself into a more comfortable position. “I would never take advantage of a drunk girl.”

Fragments of the previous night came back to you when you heard him say that. 

The party, the burn of the booze, the dust-filled broom closet, the throwing up, the taste of soup and the strong and sturdy arms of the boy now looking at you with a sheepish grin on his face.

You eased at the sight of his smile. There came a certain type of comfort after someone had seen you throwing your guts up. 

“Thank you for last night Draco.”

“Like I said before Miss raging alcoholic, Don’t make a habit of it.” He let out a small yawn and started to smooth out his hair but much to his dismay, the strands refused to cooperate. 

You couldn't help but laugh at the displeased look on his face. “Here, let me—”

“NO. I absolutely refuse to let you touch my hair.” He protested, grabbing both your wrists before your fingers could make contact with his precious hair. 

“Come on Malfoy.” You pleaded, now fully out of bed and trying to break free from his hands. “I swear I can fix it for you.”

“Nope.” He said firmly as he tried his hardest to maintain a straight face. “Stop it—No please not the sides—no..”

“Please, just a bit more...ah okay….there we go.”

“Haven’t you done enough Hufflepuff?!”

“Oh. that rhymed.” You laughed, still touching his hair when the two of you accidently tumbled onto the chair he was originally sleeping on. 

Draco was agile in cushioning your fall with one of his hands balancing himself on the armrest and one hand wrapped around your waist.

It was only the second time he’d saved you from falling and you were already getting used to it. 

Something inside of you was immediately hoping that Draco would be there to break your fall for a third time too. 

It felt good with him.

It felt safe with him.

~~~

Alone at the school courtyard in the afternoon of the next day, Draco sat down in a far corner to rearrange his cluttered thoughts about you into tidy little compartments in his brain. 

It should have been easy for him. He was a natural occlumens after all.

But for some bizarre reason, he couldn't find a way to erase your name, the sound of your voice and your scent that was slowly dominating all four lobes of his brain and all four chambers of his heart. 

Even with the sun still in the sky, the occasional gust of wind made his hands turn cold so he instinctively shoved his hands into his blazer pocket to warm up. 

It was only then that he realised that he’d completely forgotten to give your locket back to you. 

~~~

A few days had now passed and Draco had gotten several opportunities to give your necklace back to you. 

First it was at the great hall.

He watched you intently from the Slytherin table, waiting for the perfect opportunity to talk to you while you nibbled on a cupcake.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he watched you lick the powdery pink frosting off your Peony lips.

He wasn’t all that fond of those cupcakes you were eating but he’d have done anything for a taste of the frosting from your lips. 

Before he could even manage to walk over to you, you stood up and walked away with your friends.

When you were close to the exit however, you paused and turned towards the Slytherin table to give him a tiny smile.

He quickly reached into his pocket to look at the locket, it was the exact pink shade of the frosting. 

~~~

The second time he tried to return it was at Potions class. 

Theo had so graciously agreed to switch partners with Draco and Snape did not seem to mind as long as the potions were brewed right. 

“Crush the petals as best you can before dropping them into the cauldron.” Snape instructed and you quickly grabbed a fistfull of rose petals. 

Draco watched in awe as you crushed rose petals in your hands, releasing the floral aroma into the atmosphere. The scent caught onto clothes and a flush crept onto his face.

“Well, are you going to help me, Malfoy?”

Draco silently copied your motion and stirred the cauldron till the potion was simmering and ready.

Returning your locket in the middle of Severus’s class did not seem like a smart idea so he decided to come up with a better one. 

“We are having another party in the dungeons on Friday. You should come and bring Abott if you’d like.”  Draco shrugged it off like it was the most casual thing ever. 

“Will there be elf made wine?” You wiggled your eyebrows at him and he let out a rather loud scoff earning the attention of the sulky potion’s master.

“Malfoy, Y/l/n.” Snape called out, looking as unimpressed as ever. “Detention.Saturday.”

“Incorrigible.” Draco muttered and you nudged him in the rib with your elbow. 

“Two Saturdays.” Snape said, before dismissing the entire class. 

On his way out, Draco discreetly sneaked a peak of the necklace in his pocket because he already knew what colour it was going to be. 

It was the exact same pink of the rose petals you were crushing. 

~~~

Two days had gone by since potions class and Draco was no longer fazed when the necklace emulated the same shades of pink from the bubblegum you were blowing or the fuschia ribbon in your hair. 

Draco also didn’t think it was necessary to make another attempt to return your necklace until Friday.

He already had a lot of things preoccupying his mind like actually planning the party. 

There had been no Slytherin Party planned for Friday before Draco invited you and now, He was getting his friends to help him arrange one. 

Crabbe and Goyle were tasked with getting more liquor,  Blaise and Theo were responsible for music and food while Draco was responsible with the overall logistics like silencing charms and getting the word of the party out. 

“All this for a girl.” Blaise mocked. Theo took this moment to whisper something to Crabbe who then whispered something to Goyle. 

“Care to say it out loud, Nott?” Draco seethed as he watched his friends clutch their stomachs and laugh out loud. 

“Theo called you a simp.” A teary eyed Goyle spluttered. 

“A what now?”

~~~

Friday’s party topped the previous one. 

More people, A wider selection of liquor, wine varietals, good food and music blasting so loud that the floors were vibrating. 

As per usual, Hannah had already disappeared into some dark little corner with her paramour leaving you all alone with a group of Slytherin girls. 

“I love your dress!” Exclaimed a tipsy looking Daphne Greengrass who herself was wearing a gorgeous turquoise number. 

“Thank you.” You replied, giving her your most polite and friendly smile. 

“Come now, let's go and dance already.” Pansy crossed her arms and rolled her eyes at the interaction. Although it wasn’t super obvious, you sensed that Pansy wasn’t too pleased to have you there. 

Daphne intertwined her hands to yours and pulled you into the dancefloor with herself, Pansy Tracey Davis and Millicent Bulstrode. 

Daphne’s surprisingly amiable nature took you by surprise but you decided to go with it. It was a party after all. 

When she placed her hands on your shoulders, you mirrored. When she swayed her hips, so did you. 

“He can't stop staring at you now, can he?” Daphne shouted into your ear over the music as you both continued to dance together. 

“I’m sorry who?” You shouted back. 

“Malfoy.” Daphne giggled. “ He’s been watching you all night actually. Why do you think he hosted this party in the first place?”

You stole a quick glance at Draco when no one was looking. He was sipping on a glass of whisky and watching you from a distance.

He had ditched his all black attire for a white button down shirt. The top two buttons were undone and his hair had a sort of laid back look to it

“See?” Daphne shouted again. “Hasn’t even taken his eyes off you once. It's driving Pansy nuts.”

Just to confirm if Daphne was in fact telling the truth, you tilted your head to the side to get a bitter view of him and the minute you did, your eyes met with his.

Heat spread all across your cheeks and he raised his glass to you as an acknowledgement before quickly turning away. 

After that, it was just an intense and tactical little gambit of who caught who staring. 

He covertly watched you sway your hips and you secretly noticed the way he tapped his fingertips on the glass he was holding.

Both of you refused to relent to whatever game this was up until the point where he grabbed a bottle of fire whisky and started to walk away. 

You didn't even need to think twice about where he was headed. 

“Go on.” Daphne nudged encouragingly.

~~~

Draco pulled the closet door open and stepped inside with a smile playing at his lips.

The last time he was there, he was introduced to you, your scent, your smile, your eyes. 

Before that night in the closet, he took colours at their face value. They were nothing more than visual representations of light—what amount, what hue, what saturation.

It was strange how things had changed for him. 

Not only did you make him see colours in a whole new light, you made him feel them, you made him hear them.

As Draco settled down with his drink, he saw the door creak open. 

It was still dark but he could already tell that it was you by the scent of your perfume. Oh, he could never ever forget that aroma even if he tried. 

Lumos. 

Draco held his wand in front of him and allowed himself to turn to his side to get a better view of you. 

Never had he ever seen someone glow the way you did under the lumos charm. The radiance in your eyes, the pearlescence of your skin and the curvature of your lips made him lightheaded.

“I feel like this closet is going to be a recurring thing for us huh?” You beamed at him and he found himself swooning. 

Salazar Slytherin. Nott was right. He was a simp.

“I guess so.” Draco quickly answered, Blaming this dizziness on the lack of ventilation while taking a big sip of his drink. 

“I don’t mind.” You said and twisted open the bottle of wine you’d brought with you. 

“Don’t tell me you brought another bottle of that god awful wine in here.”

 “It’s actually not that bad and it gets you drunk way quicker.” You shrugged. 

“Why do I feel like I might have to walk you to your dorm again?” 

He watched you take a long slow sip of wine and couldn’t help himself from noting that your lips were slowly getting stained red with the fruity nectar. 

“Might?” You shook your head. “Sorry to break it to you, but this wine is going to catch up with me soon.” 

Draco jokingly palmed his face, earning a laugh from you. It seemed like the perfect time to hand you your lost possession back. 

“Atleast, I’ll know when you are going to be sick though.” Draco said as he fished for the locket in his pocket. 

“How come?” 

“Because of this.” He explained, holding the necklace out. “I’m sorry I should have given it back sooner.” 

“That’s okay.” You murmured softly and pushed your hair away from your neck and he instantly took this as a cue to drape the necklace back to where it belonged. 

“Ah…there you go.” He whispered into your ear before shifting back to look at the gem. 

Draco expected it to be pink but to his astonishment, the gem had already turned a vibrant red. 

A new colour.

He could see red in the apples of your cheeks.

He could feel red pumping through his veins and hear red in the way his heart was rapidly beating. 

 “It’s red.” You commented and he slowly nodded. 

Even though he knew what red was for him, he needed to hear your interpretation before making his next move. 

“What does red mean to you y/n?” 

“To me, well…..red represents um..passion, something fiery, something that burns bright, leaves you breathless.” You whispered looking as if you were feeling almost as breathless as him. 

Draco swallowed hard when he noticed just how close your face was to his. 

“Y/n?”

“Hmm?” 

“If I kissed you right now, would you kiss me back?”

He noticed that your breathing was progressively getting shorter. You looked startled at his sudden question but held his gaze nonetheless. 

“I guess you’ll have to see for yourself, Draco.”

He couldn’t help but let out a hoarse chuckle before pressing his forehead to yours. “Is that an invitation hm?” 

You didn’t say a word but the deepening red color of your necklace gave everything away. 

Any remaining doubt in his mind went away when he felt you caress his cheeks with your cold hands. 

He gently let his fingers slip into your hair as he closed the distance between your lips. 

The kiss was reminiscent of the rush of first love. The innocence, the giggles. 

The kiss paid homage that perfumed night in the broom closet that had started it all. 

The kiss was bleeding, seeping, trickling In various shades of red and he was drinking every drop. 

Draco Malfoy could finally tell what the colour red tasted like. 

It tasted like your wine stained lips. 

He backed away and placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head and you gave him a shy smile in return. 

~~~

The two of you spent the remainder of the party inside the closet. 

Drinking, talking, laughing and more kissing.

So much kissing. 

“Alright y/n, let’s get you to your room now shall we?” Draco sighed when he noticed that you were getting more and more inebriated by the minute. “Come on.” 

You struggled to step out of the closet and almost tripped on your own two drunken feet.

Almost. 

“As if I’m going to let you fall face first.” He mumbled to himself before lifting you up in his arms. 

You let out a small laugh before looking up at him. 

“Draco?”

“Hmm?”

“I know you said to not make a habit of this but unfortunately for you, I already have.” 

FIN. 

~~~

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Join my tag list here .

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Love,

vi

[sherbet-shark]

Congrats of your follower milestone! 💜 For the Spotify playlist event, may I request “🌸13. “Livin’ on a Prayer, take my hand, we’ll make it. I swear Woah- oh!”Livin’ on a Prayer by Bon Jovi” with Jack? …he’s my favorite, I can’t help it 🤣

Thank you so, so much your all of your beautiful writing and the joy it brings! I hope you have a lovely vacation— you definitely deserve it!

~It’s my life~

Author’s note: Hey there, stranger /lightheartedly sarcastic. Yes! My trip was enjoyable! 100/10 would do again. It was a nice breather from everything and a reward from college. I’m so grateful to have someone so supportive of my works and myself in my inbox!! I have so many sweet followers that I want to give a flower to platonically.

This request used my special event that has closed.

Anyhow, the one the only Jack Howl is coming right up~

Trigger Warnings: Heights, Cussing, usage of you/yours pronouns, Ace being a little shit

Word count: 2.k

Clouds gently dot the sky as you cling to the red-haired boy in front of you on the thin wooden stick—the blanket of green meeting your fearful gaze. The man teasingly laughs at your fear, poking fun at your apprehension. The windy breeze ruffles your P.E. uniform and hair, brushing your face.

Your stupid friend Ace rounding you up into riding his broom in P.E. class was irritating. He spurred you on, remarking that you were a chicken for not wanting to fly above. You should trust him because of how strong his flight magic became with Professor Vargas’ teaching– to which Vargas proudly beamed at the loud, no doubt fake praise. Trappola happily grabbed his broom and ushered you onto the magical tool, and lifted you into the air.

Grim’s loud, displeased yowls meet your ears as the grey creature curses his so-called friends. Ace points the broom in the talking cat’s direction, announcing, “Sorry, Grim! I think you’re too fat from all those cans of tuna. I didn’t want to risk the broom falling— Hah! Ouch!” Hitting the 1st year on the head, you yell your apologies to your companion.

“Grim’s not fat! Shut up!”

“Yeah! I’m not fat! Get back down here so I can burn your ass!” Grim exclaims as he runs towards his flying friends. Ace glares at you as he instinctively brings a hand to rub the back of his head. With the sudden change of the rowdy first year’s grip, the broom juts to the right, then down.

“Oh!”

“Op, that’s my cue- hold on, Prefect! We’re going up!” Ace scrambles to adjust his firm grip on the unruly broom and nervously chuckles at his mistake as you glare holes in the back of his head. The skin on your knuckles pulled taught and white down on the polished wood, and the bumpy ride makes your nerves prickle to attention and shut your eyes. Praying to whatever higher power, there was that you wouldn’t die from Ace’s stupid tricks. As the two of you flew higher to the sky, everything below started to look like ants as Ace distantly heard Vargas shouting that it was high enough and it was time to go down.

He counted himself lucky that it seemed like you couldn’t hear the instructor’s voice, and he reveled in the warm breeze greeting him—unknowing what would happen in the next twenty minutes.

Down on the ground, Vargas’ shouts fell on deaf ears as he stopped running after the two runaways, ‘They’re going way too high. Those clouds are moving fast the other way too. A strong gust is going to hit soon.’ The brunet man scans the skies as he sees rolls of clouds block the sun. He needed to act fast, or else those foolish kids would get hurt.

“Howl, Felmier! Get your brooms! There will be a nasty gust soon, and I doubt Trappola’s stamina is as great as mine. That boy’s magic is already wearing. Falling won’t be their only concern. Get those two down.”Vargas gritted his teeth at the thought his students jumped head first into flight but was also glad that his class was a joint class with A and B classes. He had two-star pupils that had a good enough mastery of the art.

The two students, with their mouths agape at the brazen acts of Ace and the prefect, straighten and nod their heads, wasting no time; they grab their brooms, and Jack starts to ride the wind but not before Grim runs and jumps into Epel’s embrace.

“G-grim?! What in tarnation— What are you doing?!” Epel protests as he looks down at his hands to see Grim’s angry yet pouty face as he tells how he was still pissed at Ace’s mean remark and wanted to see his humiliated face when he was rescued and yelled at the Prefect for abandoning him. Shrugging at Grim’s oddly placed determination, Epel lifts off from the ground, trying to catch up to Jack’s pace.

Vargas places a hand on his hip, and the other covers his eyes, watching the four students in the sky. Usually, he’d never allow fellow students to fly so high, and he’d do it himself but having a large class for the day had his hands tied. Professor Vargas turns his gaze from the skies to his students, still watching with a dumbfounded expression painting each face. He brings his whistle to his lips and obnoxiously blows it, rounding the students up for an intense weight muscle circuit as punishment and to trample any more thoughts.

Epel’s grip tightens on his broom as he finally catches up to the beastmen. “J-Jack! Are you doing ok? I know you and the prefect are dating… so this might be a surprise. I know it was one hell- I mean startling to see Ace and them do that….” The Pomefiore student softly remarks as Grim nods and complains, but the cat-like monster complaints go from one ear and out the other as Epel looks at Jack’s expression.

It was focused and unreadable. Maybe Jack was angry that Ace talked you into this situation? The lilac-haired 1st year didn’t know what he was thinking, but after a while, Howl only muttered a quiet agreement.

Mere minutes passed as the winds got more intense as the clouds gathered, entirely blocking out the sun. As Jack leans forward to urge his magical broom to move faster, the tiny figures of the renegades become bigger and bigger but more erratic with their steadiness. Ace could feel his magic was waning, but he and his passenger got caught in a slight mid-draft. Even if the red haired man wanted to, the gust was too strong.

“A-Ace, I think we should go down to the field now. It’s pretty dark now and gusty and- wait, is that shouting?” You brush your shoulder with him, beckoning Ace’s attention as the wind carries a couple of familiar voices as you turn around to see where they came from.

“Jack?! Epel?!” Rearing both of your heads to your fellow peers right below, probably avoiding the wild gust.

“Prefect! Ace! Professor Vargas is pretty upset; to come down here before he puts all of us through his hell of a workout.” Epel explains as Grim’s ear flames burn warmer at the colder temperatures.

“Prefect! Get on to my broom! Ace’s getting more tired. Epel and I can help watch Ace.” Jack’s wolf ears perk attention as they twitch, picking up the wind and the rest of your conversation. Jack’s proposal sounded insane, and you had no qualms showing him your dumbfounded and doubtful face to your boyfriend. Even Ace whipped his head around to look at Jack. The Heartslaybul student’s cherry eyes rapidly blinked as he rewound what the Savannaclaw student said.

“Excuse me?! You want them to do what?! That sounds almost as stupid as when Deuce threw me at a damn chandelier! They’ll fall! I thought you were their boyfriend, man! What the hell!” Ace rudely announces. He felt the broom underneath the dropdown. Trappola hisses and regains his wary attention on the broom.

“See? Ace’s already getting more tired when we argue. Prefect, I can try to cast some wind magic to soften the descent, and Jack can grab you onto his broom. I can see if I can carry Ace on my broom too.” Epel urgently suggests as his voice cuts through the tension, as he looks to see more interruptions. Grim’s ears flatten on his head at the intense situation.

While he knew Epel’s wind magic was great, he was hesitant after Ace’s stunt. Even though he bickered with you sometimes, the monster didn’t want to see you get hurt for doing something stupid like this.

“You be careful, you hear minion! Same for you, Jack! I don’t want my 1st henchman to die over something like this.” Grim murmurs, but Jack hears the creature’s plea and wordlessly nods, and his arm outstretched to your hesitant form. Golden brown eyes full of trust and loyalty stare into your soul. Although fear clawing at every single part of your body screamed in protest against the dangerous risk, you trusted Jack Howl.

The young man so effortlessly captured your heart with his endearing honest personality and loyal demeanor. While his high morals of black and white frustrated you, you knew he wanted to do what was right by him and to those he thought were worthy enough to have a silver of his attention. How mutual appreciation soon morphed to tenderness, and with each day of learning new things from each other, that feeling of empathy then finally to something frighteningly new yet exciting and fun sparked. Ever since Jack and yourself have been dating after months of understanding each other, throughout your budding relationship, he never once thrust you into danger that he wasn’t sure he couldn’t help pull you out of it.

Jack trusted his ability even if there were times he was outnumbered, and the beastman reminds himself to stay calm for you to trust him. He recalls a moment like this with his siblings, and he was able to help them out with their problems. He takes a deep breath and slows his word, a calm, trusting, and gentle tone takes over as he helps soothe your mind as he says, “Take my hand. We’ll make it, I swear. I won’t let anything hurt you, not while I’m around.”

Peeling your sore hands and legs from underneath the solid but thin wood, violent shivers run all over your body as Jack releases his only hand on his broom, bracing to catch you in his strong embrace. Epel watches the hesitant prefect make their move to jump, his magical pen securely fastened in the small breast pocket in his P.E. Uniform, preparing for a small blast of wind magic. With bated breath, Grim watches his claws digging into the magic broom.

“You got it, almost there, Prefect. Just a little more.” Ace briefly peers over his shoulder and points his broom down, closing the gap between you and Jack. The wild turbulence makes Ace’s broom jerk to the right but right before the strong wind throws you for a loop. With screwed closed eyes, you leap from Ace’s broom to Jack’s arms. Within a blink of an eye, he places your body on the broom and turning around, you cling to Jack’s familiar body and bury your face in the crevice of his neck, your head painfully throbbed, and it feels like your heart is jumping into your throat as you wind your arms around his waist.

Dirty golden brown eyes meet Epel’s silent agreement as Jack stirs the magic tool back to the school field at a mindful steady pace as Epel uses some of his magic to help Ace get out of the wind current. Grim’s head peeks and sighs of relief to see the Prefect and Jack fly away, he was at a loss for words, but he was happy they didn’t get hurt.

“Are you alright? Can you speak?” Jack glances at the figure wordlessly, burying their face into his sweaty uniform. They didn’t say a word, not that he blamed them, but they were almost there, and he grew concerned they were in shock. White spiky hair blusters in the wind as Jack brings a hand to his lover’s back to brush against their back in sweet comfort, and to this, you whisper, “That was a lot for one day.”

Jack shakes his head, a heavy, tired sigh leaves his lips and looks to their destination, and makes a graceful and soft landing on the ground below, only to be met with an angry-looking Vargas and even more mad sweat glistening students. Epel, Ace, and Grim make their land a few moments later as Vargas greets them.

It took a 9-page apology essay, cleaning the gym and its equipment for five weeks. The nine-page report was a prompt punishment made by Professor Crewel to you and Ace, but this whole debacle did make Jack overwhelmingly protective and caring as he found out that you did suffer some shock and got after Ace’s tricks.

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

To Each His Own

It's no secret that Billy was a chubby kid. It's for this reason that he doesn't feel like a complete failure when he finds himself squeezing into jeans that are yet another size up. He thinks that it would be more disappointing, if anything, if he had always been lean.

Then it would just seem like he let himself go out of nowhere.

Going back to one's roots isn't disappointing. It's expected. And maybe he's projecting, but he feels like the people around him have been waiting for it to happen. For him to turn soft.

He turns and examines himself from a few different angles in front of the mirror, smooths a hand over the curve of his ass and down his outer thigh. Tries to recall how these parts of him looked fifty odd pounds ago.

It isn't a second later when his reflection is joined by another. Sometimes he swears that Tommy has a sixth sense.

"Hey, cowboy," Tommy lilts. Fits his thumbs under the waistband of Billy's jeans at either hip. "Whatcha up to?"

His tone is kind and his eyes are doe-like, those freckled cheeks scrunched up in a smile. Billy sets his jaw.

"The usual."

"Brooding?"

"Mhm."

Tommy presses his lips to his shoulder. Hums happily into the fabric of Billy's shirt, likely appreciating the texture against his skin. Billy thinks for a second about how differently he reacts to different fabrics.

How if he wears polyester, Tommy won't so much as touch him.

"Thought so," Tommy sighs.

He rests his chin in the crook of Billy's neck. Traces his eyes over their reflections. It's obvious, given the way that his smile widens, that he likes what he sees.

Billy is indifferent towards it. All of it. The changing of his body, getting older, everything. It's just something that happens.

That doesn't mean he's not a little displeased when he watches Tommy test the give of the waistband with his thumbs. Like he's trying to gauge how loose they are and just how long he predicts this pair to last. It plants the seed of embarrassment somewhere behind Billy's ribs.

The roots dig in when Tommy unhooks his thumbs and instead elects to wrap Billy in a hug.

His breath catches in his throat, because fuck.

"Wanna go out tonight? Maybe popcorn and a movie will cheer you up," Tommy says.

"I dunno."

"How come?"

Billy stares awkwardly at his reflection. Crosses his arms over his chest, only to realize that it accentuates the pooch of his stomach even more. Then he rests them at his sides again.

"Goin' to a movie isn't gonna change the fact that your arms barely fit around me," he grumbles.

For a long moment, Tommy says nothing. Looks down at where his hands rest against Billy's midsection as if trying to piece an invisible puzzle together.

"Is that what you're all pissy about?" His voice suddenly has a slight edge to it that makes Billy's ears burn with guilt. "Babe, so fucking what? You're a big guy, and you've always been a big guy."

"I know."

"Been a few years since I was able to sweep you off your feet, Bills."

Billy tsks.

"Thanks, Tom."

"Look, all I'm trying to say is that you've picked a weird time to be sensitive about it. And, besides, my arms totally still fit around you." He presses flush against Billy's back and reaches in an attempt to prove his point, only for his fingertips to not meet. "Oh."

The blond can't help it. He snorts, and a grin splits across Tommy's face shortly after.

"God, you're fuckin' stupid."

"Whatever. I could reach if I tried."

"Sure."

"Yeah, but unfortunately for you, I don't wanna risk upsetting this beautiful tummy of yours or I'd be proving your ass wrong right now."

Billy scoffs, but his smile doesn't falter in the slightest.

"Beautiful, huh?"

"Mhmm," Tommy hums. Rubs gentle circles into Billy's stomach, his slender hands a stark contrast to everything beneath them. "The fact that I can't reach around you just means that I owe you more hugs to compensate, when you think about it."

"You have such weird taste, Hagan."

"My taste is impeccable, thank you very much."

Billy's face blotches red when Tommy brings his hands up to trace over the crest of his stomach, inarguably the roundest part. It's the spot that always spurs the most insecurity, simply because of the contrast between where his chest ends and his stomach begins.

And here Tommy is, lavishing it with loving attention without so much as a hint of disdain on his face.

Like he's looking at Billy through a special lens.

"To each his own, I guess," Billy sighs.

"Don't you dare dismiss me, Hargrove." The warm press of lips to his neck has his heart fluttering against his ribs in seconds. "My preferences aren't weird just 'cause I like you, y'know. I'm allowed to be normal and appreciate your tummy." Tommy then sways them softly from side to side and shuts his eyes. "Plus, you look hot as fuck in your new jeans. I'm totally chubbed up right now."

Billy chuckles. Threads his fingers between Tommy's and brings his hands to rest on the curve of his belly.

"Thanks, freckles."

"Mhmm."

Another kiss drags against his throat, and Billy tilts his head away to give his lover some room. Chews his lip as he watches Tommy slowly start to smooth his palms in circles again.

There's no thought behind the action. Just Tommy keeping his hands busy while he kisses Billy's ear and mouths softly at his jaw.

He certainly doesn't seem to be indifferent towards any of this. Not when he buries his face into Billy's hair and gives him an affectionate squeeze like they've been apart for ages. Like he needs to fully immerse himself in the blond's everything just to feel whole again.

"So what movie are we gonna go see?" Billy asks.

Tommy chuckles as he noses kisses into his hair.

"Anything you want, babe. My treat."

"Mm, how about Mars Attacks?"

"Seriously? The poster looks like total dogshit."

They share a chuckle, and Tommy nuzzles into Billy's neck again.

"C'mon, it's aliens."

After one last kiss and the roll of his eyes, Tommy leans away. Meanders across the bedroom and into the closet, leaving Billy alone in front of the mirror, now looking at his reflection with less judgment.

Looking at himself through Tommy's eyes.

"To each his own, Hargrove."

[nocturnaldivinationsfallingstars]

A Stray Bullet Part 5

Fandom: Gotham Characters: Victor Zsasz, female!reader, James Gordon. Warnings: Swearing, mentions of someone dying in a car accident.  Summary: The reader is James Gordon’s sister and works for the GCPD and is dating Victor Zsasz. The reader has kept it a secret from her brother, until one day when she takes a bullet that was meant for him. Victor then shows up at James’ place to see the reader. Word count: 3689 A/N: I had to re-work the ending to this part as I added new parts to it.

Shifting your weight from one foot to the other a couple of times to relieve the pain you were starting to feel from having been standing for far longer than your body wanted you to be, your head hung low with your eyes cast to the dark wooden floor. You were staring at a spot where a shard of glass had slipped between the grooves of two bits of wood, finding it interesting all of a sudden. Balling your hands into fists by your side and then relaxed them, wiggling the stiffness from your fingers to expel the tension. You thought about all the ways you could possibly answer his persistent questioning on the subject. You could always tell him the unbridled truth about your relationship with Victor, of course, you’d omit more than a few private details about the matter. But realistically, what good would telling him the complete truth really do? Apart from causing an explosive argument to break out between the two of you, and even then he’d insert himself more forcibly into your personal affairs.

James hadn't always been that way, he used to give you some semblance of privacy when growing up. In fact, he had only been this way since your father had been killed in the car accident with a drunk driver a good few years ago now. Inserting himself into your life whenever something dangerous came along, becoming overprotective and doing whatever he could to make sure you're safe. When he became a detective at the GCPD it only seemed to amplify his need to keep you safe, and while it was sweet knowing that your brother is always going to be there, you felt as if it was a bit too much.

And well, Victor Zsasz just so happened to be 'something dangerous'. James' reaction to you dating the famed hitman that quite literally shot you would set off a rather volatile reaction. There was no way for you to predict how he would act. Not to mention he had a temper that needed to be kept in check, which he was doing so well with.

This meant James needed to know all about it, right? So he doesn't lose his temper? He should know, he's your brother after all and not to mention you usually told him everything. The good and the bad, well to an extent. This was different, more personal and gave way to more chances for James to lash out at you or Victor or both. It wasn't as if you could keep putting it off, since he'd find out about it sooner or later. Later would be a huge mess, however, telling him sooner could be just as bad. Perhaps you could settle on telling him half-truths? It wouldn't make him angry if you let some details slip while keeping the key ones close to your chest.

The most difficult part was trying to mentally convince yourself to do it. To tell him the truth, no matter how angry he is going to be about you keeping it a secret. Or at the very least to give him something small to go off of, anything at all to keep him from questioning you further. The choice was hard to make, but it needed to be made, and you were the only one who could make it.

With a firm nod of your head at your decision to tell him half-truths, your tongue shot out between your lips as you tilted your head to the side and finally managed to tear your gaze away from the glass shard between the floorboards and over to the couch where James currently resided. His arms crossed over his chest still, tapping away at his upper arms with his fingers impatiently, waiting for you to answer. You could tell he wanted to ask again and if you didn't give an answer he was going to be displeased with you.

"Okay," you breathed out to calm yourself, flexing your hands once more. "Grace was right, I am dating someone." You begrudgingly admitted in the hopes that the thick and heavy tension that fell around you and James like a thick blanket of smoke within the last couple of minutes would clear, and give way to something that would make breathing feel less like a chore than it seemed to feel like in this very moment. 

Finally, admitting your secret to your brother seemed to make little to no difference, if anything it felt as if the tension had got far worse between you and James. It felt it coiled around your chest like a boa constrictor choking out its prey, making it exceptionally hard for you to breathe. You felt the full weight of your anticipation towards his reaction resting heavily on your shoulders, making you feel like it was getting harder to breathe.

You were hoping to blame the sudden feeling of weakness that began to wash over you on the fact that you've been shot twice and not on the fact that you've started to really worry. Your fingers curled and uncurled multiple times at your side, then pressed the palms of your hands against your thighs and stared at him. Waiting, watching for any hint of surprise, annoyance, anger, just anything to show you what he’s feeling.

"You're dating someone?" he asked, his gruff voice gaining your attention before you could allow your mind to wander. There were no underlying negative emotions as he spoke to you, still the tension remained and was in no way alleviated. In fact, it felt far more stifling now than moments ago when you admitted your secret aloud.

"Yes, I am." you answered in a low voice that's barely above a whisper. A single nod was all you could manage, taking a slow and small step backwards so that the back of your legs hit the soft cushions of the couch behind you. You automatically sat down as soon as you felt them, your hands going to your hap where you intertwined your fingers and rubbed your left thumb with the pad of your right nervously.

You averted your gaze, there was no way you could bring yourself to look at him. Not only that, but you could sense the disappointment dripping in his voice and radiating off of him, he tried his best to hide it, but you could still sense it. "Who is it?" he demanded, his voice raising even though he tried to fight the anger that boiled in his veins. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could see his knuckles starting to turn pale from how hard he's gripping at the fabric of his jacket.

Oh, how you regretted the words that came from your mouth.

A grim look darkened the features of your brother, who is very obviously irked about all the secrecy already. "Who is it?" The sound of his right foot tapping against the floor sent a shiver of worry down your spine as soon as you heard it. Somehow you missed the rapid movement of his leg bouncing up and down anxiously until now, and for a brief moment you allowed yourself to wonder about how you missed such a simple yet very noticeable action. However, that thought was soon dragged away from you when your brother grunted, thoughtful about his next words. "How long have you two been dating?" You could tell his anger was burning just beneath the surface of his skin, itching to get out, wanting to be known, but he had control over it. For now.

"A few months now," you had hoped that you'd never get to witness his full anger in your lifetime. However, you were clearly heading southbound to face it head on and be on the receiving end of it, none of which gave you much comfort right now. "I also can't tell you his name." You felt like you had been put under a microscope, almost as if all of your expressions, movements, etc, were being analysed for any hints of a lie. 

James sat next to you quietly and rubbed his wrist with his hand a couple of times before yet another grunt escaped from his throat, he pushed his jacket aside with his hands and then placed them on his hips. He pushed himself up from his place on the couch, "A few months?" He moved to stand in front of you, pausing a mere couple of seconds with his back facing you before he turned sharply with a burning gaze that made your skin crawl as the invisible flames licked at your flesh violently.

"Well, actually, if you want me to be more accurate, it is more like eight months." You corrected sheepishly, ducking your head and raising your shoulders to your ears, suddenly feeling vulnerable.

"Eight? Eight fucking months?" He said slowly to get his mind around the news. You nodded your head in response and sucked your lower lip between your front teeth. You didn't know if you should say something or not, so you settled for keeping your mouth shut. "Jesus - fucking - Christ, you've not only been dating someone for eight whole months without even so much as a word about it to me. But you can't even tell me his damn name." James ran his hands through his short brown hair, "or is it because you won't tell me? Hmm? Can't or won't tell me?" He said in an accusatory tone and extended his arm out in front of himself, pointing a large index finger at you. "Because I have got to admit; it doesn't feel like you're being entirely honest with me [Y/N]." With a puff of air, you pressed your lips together into a thin line. Finally, managing to gather the courage to look him in the eyes. You still can't bring yourself to tell him who you're dating, but at least you told him you're dating someone.

You reached up and slapped his hand from your face, "I won't tell you." You growled out through gritted teeth.

“Okay, fine,” he huffed out angrily and threw his hands in the air. “Keep being stubborn.

Rolling your eyes, you shifted your body to stretch out along the couch now that it was free. Your side and shoulder throbbed, the phantom pain of the bullets tearing through you made you shiver involuntarily, "Jim, I know you want to know who it is, but I do need some privacy in my life you know." You shot back, suddenly feeling less scared about his underlying anger issues.

"Okay, I get that. But what if they're dangerous? What then?"

You stared up at him, mulling the question over and hummed, "he could very well be dangerous." He shook his head in disbelief to your answer, you answered so calmly, like it was a normal day-to-day thing to talk about. You continued to stare up at him, jutting your lower lip out into a pout, and nodded your head in acknowledgement to his question. It wasn't like you were fully admitting that Victor was dangerous, however you received a dark look from your brother which made you choke back a small laugh of amusement at his attitude towards the whole thing.

“Can you stop joking around for one damn minute?!” James snapped at you out of frustration for the second time that day. “This is a serious discussion. 

There was no way you would joke about something like that when you told him that your boyfriend could be dangerous. After all, you knew very well that he was, but you found it exciting and hot. Not that you would admit that very personal fact to your brother, or Grace for that matter. You didn't want to deal with them judging you. "I wasn't joking when I said that, Jim. I was simply saying that knowing could be dangerous." You shrugged and paused, tilting your head to the side as the gears in your mind started to turn as you tried to think of something that would reassure your only surviving family. This time, however, your voice came out much quieter than before. "I can handle myself. Nothing bad will happen to me while I am with him.”

"Right," he murmured unconvincingly, his dark eyes drawn to the bloodied bandages wrapped around your shoulder and side, just peeking out from under the black fabric of your clean shirt. "And that's why you're here," he gestured your way, "because you can take care of yourself. Okay, yeah. Sure." It was clear that the way you held yourself, like a bird nursing a broken wing, did very little to convince him that you could take care of yourself. He didn't even need to say that you could barely walk and take care of yourself right now aloud, his unspoken point hung in the air between the two of you like an axe pendulum swinging violently ready to hit someone.

James waved a hand in the air as if to dismiss the conversation and blew a heavy breath of air from his lungs. "Just get some rest, we will talk about this in the morning. And you better give me answers."

"That was my plan," you yawned out. You felt exhaustion once again wrap its arms around you tightly. A small noise of satisfaction escaped your lips as you stretched your legs out in front of yourself, relieving the stiffness you felt in your joins. "You're not dad, Jim," keeping your tired dull eyes on your brother who turned his back on you and rolled his shoulders as he went to leave the living room with a quiet grumble about something you couldn't quite catch.

He had only just stepped foot out of the large living room when the loud generic ringtone of your phone rang out through the room, causing your breath to catch in your throat. "Who the hell is that?" James spun back around and stood in the alcove, his eyes scanning the room quickly for the locations of the sound. He most likely thought that he had dropped his phone in all the commotion from earlier, or perhaps Barbara had left hers here. You were hoping he didn't think it was yours and that he'd leave it and go straight to his room.

Your eyes darted towards your neatly folded trousers resting atop your boots and then back to your brother who followed your gaze with his eyes the next time you looked back over to where your phone lay. "[Y/N], who is that?" He repeated the question, taking a large step back into the room.

"That's Grace calling." you squeaked out. Of course, you were lying, Grace rarely called outside work hours. That was, unless it had to do with something important, like your case. You knew exactly who was calling you, and your brother apparently picked up on the lie as soon as it tumbled past your lips. He's always been good at picking up on your likes, and it was infuriating to say the least. The rise of your voice did nothing to make the lie any more believable to your brother’s ears.

"Is it him calling?" The question itself didn't give off the vibe of something you should be answering; it may as well be a rhetorical question since he already knows the answer. He was smart enough that he didn't need you telling him something he already knew. Instead, you chose to shake your head quickly, shooting up into a sitting where you instantly leaned forwards as if you're getting ready to race him to where your phone continued ringing kept coming from. Much like you and James would do while growing up and one of you wanted to use the landline before the other. His eyes narrowed at you as he watched the sudden shift in your body language.

You sat rigid on the edge of the couch cushion. Of course, it had to be Victor calling you, and now James knew that it's someone important to you. He rapidly closed the distance between himself and the location of your phone. Just as he swept your trousers up in his hands and started to search them, you lunged forward, and he turned his back on you, making you collide with his back. He pulled the phone out of the front pocket, but as soon as he did it stopped making a noise. James's brows raised as he looked down at the small square that lit up for the longest moment before it dimmed and went black.

"For the love of god, Jim! Can I please have my phone back?!" You sprang away from him and teetered back a couple of meters. You hoped to hell he would pass the phone back to you before Victor called again, which he would do since you didn't answer the first time around, and he must be worried about you after what happened at the GCPD. "Please?!" You clasped your hands together in front of yourself in a pleading gesture as he turned to you, phone in hand.

“It is him, right?” James asked again, at this point you were getting tired of the repetitive questions. He pressed you for an answer because deep down he knew he was right.

"Yes. It is him." You answered curtly through gritted teeth. Your fingertips and nails pressed into the skin of your knuckles so hard it was beginning to hurt and put strain on your fingers.

A playful smirk made its way onto James's lips as his eyes darted down to the small screen on the front of your phone, the screen still black since last time. "Does he call you every night?" He hooked the corner of his thumb under the lip of the phone and flipped it open with ease to reveal the screen, which cast a white and blue hue of light over his face. His thumb hovered over the buttons that are far too small for his giant man thumbs, returning his curiosity filled eyes back to you.

"No." An obvious lie. “He doesn’t call me every night.” Another blatant lie.

Humming thoughtfully, he pressed the dark grey button in the middle of a small cluster of buttons to bring up the other options on your phone. His eyes darting back and forth between you and your phone as he pressed the smaller arrow keys surrounding the grey button until he landed upon the call log. "Jim!" You snapped at him, tearing your hands apart to reach out and snatch your phone from his grasp, but he pulled his hand away with a click of his tongue.

"I am not doing anything," he teased, the smirk on his face only growing wider with the way you're acting, like it amuses him. You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest, stamping your foot on the floor like a child being told they couldn't have any more candy before going to bed.

"Relax, I am just playing with you." He sighed out and was about to press one of the buttons when the small black phone in his hand buzzed to life, the screen lighting up and garnering his attention again. The words 'V calling...' displayed on the screen. "Hello?" James shot you a questioning look as he pressed the green button alight on the keypad without hesitation, picking up in mere seconds of the melody starting up. "Hello?" He asked again, pulling the phone away from his ear and looking at the small object in confusion.

Reaching out again, you took advantage of him being distracted and took your phone away from him. "Stop being a fucking jerk, Jim!" yelling angrily at him as you slammed the phone closed to end the call. You could only imagine the look on Victor’s face when your brother answered instead of you. James held his hands up, his brows furrowing.

"Your friend or boyfriend didn't even answer." He told you, lowering his hands as you stood there glaring at him. "And who is V?" You rolled your eyes, curling your fingers around the casing of your phone, holding it to your protectively.

"He didn't answer because you answered my phone and not me." You said defensively, "and it’s honestly none of your damn business who 'V' is! You need to stop acting like dad and more like my fucking brother. Not only that, but you need to let me have my own damn life!" That came out sounding a lot harsher than you intended it to, so you slapped your free hand over your mouth in a failed attempt to keep the words in. Obviously it was too late, and the damage was already done. You stared at him with wide, worry-filled eyes. 

James nodded and took a step back to give you some space, an apologetic look on his face. "I am just concerned about you. And I am trying to keep the only family I have left safe and alive." With that he turned and walked away, leaving you standing in the middle of the living room with your hand over your mouth staring after him. You only dropped your hand from your mouth when you heard the click of the light switch and the light went out throughout the apartment. "Just get some sleep," he called back to you before slamming the door to his room shut.

Shuffling backwards while being as careful as you could be as to not step on the remnants of glass scattered across the floor, you sat back down on the soft couch cushions and leaned back. Your eyes adjusted to the surrounding darkness, you could almost make out a few shapes here and there, a couple of shadows as well.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered out after him. You pulled the scratchy grey blanket from the back of the couch and over your shoulder, covering your lap with it. You felt bad for what you said to him, you didn’t mean to sound so harsh when you said it.

Tag list; @sunlitwritings​, @nheirei, @the-ramblings, @milly-louise

[crescentsteel]

Keeping a Secret - Part 2

pairing: Tsukishima x f!manager of Sendai Frogs genre: sexual tension/crack/fluff/slow burn warnings: lots of swear words, tsukki being a a closet softie wc: 6k (lol no chill as always)

[a/n]

Sorry for the delayed update. I added almost 1k words just to solidify the characters to give depth even more to the story. Feel free to reread. (It's totally not because I started a different series altogether.)

When I say this is slow burn, I meant sloooooooowww burn. 

Let me know if you want to be part of the taglist. :)

AO3 

Part 1 || Part 3 || masterlist

What were you even thinking? Actually,  why weren’t you? Had you used at least two brain cells of yours, you wouldn’t have momentarily lost your mind and kissed Tsukishima. You could’ve justified your actions if you were drunk, but you ingested not even an ounce of alcohol that night.

History will remember yesterday as the day a a sober you and a very displeased Tsukishima who found yourselves smooching publicly in the middle of a club. You’re just glad that no other member of the team goes to the same university you both go to. Else, you'd run the risk of getting seen.

Were so touch-deprived that you couldn’t resist even Tsukishima? And what about him? Why did he get along with it? You don’t think he actually hates you. Hate is such a strong word. He just exceedingly dislikes you. So why would he make out with you? Maybe he thought of it as a way of finally standing up to you?

Ugh.

You’re thankful that you didn’t have training yesterday. You were a mess the whole day trying to make sense of what happened. Not that you’re any better today; you’re still baffled as fuck. But you’re glad you had that day off so you wouldn’t have to face him immediately. 

For the first time ever, you’re dreading going to the gym. Even if you’re tired or you lack sleep, you’ve never felt distressed as the manager of the Sendai Frogs. All this because of Tsukishima. But can you really put the blame on him when it was you who initiated it?

“Good morning, y/n,” Eiji, the captain of the team greets you.

“Morning, Eiji,” you say back. Even though he’s older than you, you dropped the salutations already, same with everybody else. 

“You okay?” he asks worriedly. 

“Oh! Yeah, absolutely! When am I ever not okay?” You toughen it up and erase the troublesome kiss in your head. You are their ever shining manager, first and foremost. Anything outside of that has no place in this gym. 

“Never. It’s almost scary actually,” he answers with jest.

“Right? ‘Cause I’m a freaking goddess.”

He gives you a noble bow. “Indeed, you are, my lady.”

You giggle softly. Your players really are the best on and off the court (except for Tsukishima). “Go do your drills instead of buttering me up, ‘captain.’” He gives you a mock salute then jogs off towards the net. 

“Y/n!”

You saunter off to your coach after you were called. “Yes, Coach?”

“Can you help tape the blockers?” You nod willingly, quickly discarding unnecessary thoughts of Tsukishima. 

“Tsukishima’s free. Go start with him.”

You almost flinch upon hearing his name.

‘Great,’ you groan internally as you get the wrap from your kit and drag your feet toward the source of your uneasiness. But what did you expect? Of course, you’d have to deal with him sooner or later.

“Morning, Tsukishima,” you greet him with forced normalcy, acting like nothing’s wrong. As you take his left hand and you’re instantly reminded of what happened the other night -- how this hand gripped your waist while his mouth moved against yours… how his skin felt against the palm of your hand as he towered over you, body against body in a dance so dangerous and so hypnotizing that you lost yourself in the moment.

You tried your best to calm down yesterday, but seeing him right now makes you want to smack yourself from your momentary insanity that led you to kiss him.

Instead, you give him the nicest, brightest smile to channel your frustrations as you start taping his fingers. You just hope and pray that he doesn’t bring it up.

“Morning,  manager .” It was an indirect jab at you. Even when he says it with a dead tone, you know he’s taunting you by addressing you as manager - a tortuous reminder that what happened last Saturday night wasn’t forgotten.

Instead of yielding to the provocation, you respond with your own. You might have messed up, but you’re not letting him get the upper hand. “How was your weekend, Tsukki?” 

“Horrible,” he quickly answers without even thinking.

“Ditto. What happened to yours?” you ask with fake curiosity, already knowing why. Even if you didn’t kiss him then, he was already acting up like an angsty teen forced by his mom to attend a children’s party within the neighborhood.

“Went to a disgusting party.”

You nod pretentiously. “Mine’s horrible too. I got g-”

“I didn’t ask,” he interrupts.

“Well, you’re still going to hear it,” you respond just as distastefully as he cut you off. “I got groped by some perv, but I kinda punched some good manners unto him.” You release his left hand and take his right one to tape it as well. 

“And?” He asks.

You shrug your shoulders. “That’s it. After that, I just went home from how  horrible  the experience was.”

You look up to him, meeting his sardonic gaze paired with a raised eyebrow from what you just said. You know that he understood that you were referring to something else other than the perv incident as horrible.

“How about you? What happened to that disgusting party of yours?” you press on.

“I bumped into someone I didn’t really want to see.”

“And?”

“Do you really wanna know how horrible it was for me?” A smirk creeps up on the corner of his mouth as he asks. There were many times before that you’ve wanted a taste of Tsukishima’s vile sarcasm, just to know what he’d say to you. Today is not one of those times. You don’t want him using that reckless kiss against you. 

“Actually, no. I don’t really care.” You let go of his hand you just finished working with and look around to look for anyone you could use as a distraction from Tsukishima’s attempt to retell the kiss from his perspective.

“Kogane!” you brightly call the setter as you bounce cheerfully towards him. 

Even if you don’t show it, Tsukishima knows he’s gotten under your previously impenetrable thick skin. He detests what happened last Saturday. The more he remembers it, the more he abhors it. The only reason he’s not totally hating himself for getting swept along with your shit is because he knows you hated it too, probably more than he does since it was you who kissed him first.

His smug grin only spreads when you march to Kogane with that cutesy act you only show to players from opposing teams to unsettle them before matches. You take both Kogane’s hands and beam at him. “Do you want me to tape your fingers?”

“Y-you don’t have to, y/n. I can do it myself!” Kogane blurts out, panicking at your sudden closeness and physical touch.

“But I love taking care of you guys,” you pout at Kogane, which only makes the setter blush a shade almost close to red.

Tsukishima follows you to help his babbling, flustered teammate.

“You’re going to kill him, y/n,” he says as he passes by you and Kogane who now looks like he stopped functioning.

You blink at Kogane, realizing what you’re doing to the poor guy.

You must have been really bothered by Tsukishima and unknowingly projected it to someone else.

Tsukishima sneers as he sees you try to ease Kogane from his severe fluster but only make it worse by rubbing his shoulders. 

A dash of pride and satisfaction swells on Tsukishima’s chest as he watches you get agitated with the situation you, yourself caused. Getting back at you feels even better than he imagined it would be. 

--

Even though you and Tsukishima are in the same class, you don’t really notice his presence. Sometimes you’d even forget you’re classmates. Now, though, you are more aware of the fact that he’s actually there than you ever have.

“Alright, class. For your main project this semester, I’m going to have you partnered up. You need to come up with a comprehensive report on mating behavior of reptiles. I’ll randomly generate your assigned reptile.”

You groan. Another collaborative work in the same subject. You don’t like working with others because you don’t want to adapt to anyone’s schedule. You like to get things done ahead of time. You hate procrastinating because you don’t want your uni requirements getting mixed up with potential tasks from your managerial job, especially whenever tournament seasons come. 

The last collaborative work you worked on is a group project where you did most of the work yourself. You wouldn’t have minded if you didn’t have fucking freeloaders as groupmates.  The little shits made you do 90% of the project because you wanted it done early.

You just pray that this time, you get to be paired with someone responsible. You tap your pen on your desk while you wait for your name to be called.

“L/n and Tsukishima.”

You drop your pen at your professor’s announcement. It bounces twice on your desk before rolling to the floor, but you don’t move to pick it up. Your gaze immediately flies to where Tsukishima is seated and find him glaring at you already. You almost want to laugh at how ridiculous this entire situation is.

Seriously? Were you a serial killer in your previous life or something? Did some higher power decide to punish you for your grave sins like this? 

Whatever. You’re not having any of this shit. 

You wait until the class is over and approach your professor. “Sir. I’d like to do this project alone.” Or at least with someone else. 

He continues to type something on his laptop, not bothering to look up at you, as he asks, “Why is that?”

“I just feel more comfortable doing things on my own, Sir. Please.” You try to give him your nice student smile but his eyes don't leave his screen.

“Then what? Have you increase my workload?”

Shit. You forgot that this particular professor of yours is known to not budge to anyone. You scramble your brain for another excuse.

“Sir. Can I do this project alone?” you suddenly hear Tsukihima’s voice behind you.

Finally, your professor closes his laptop and eyes you two unenthusiastically. “My answer is no to miss Y/n, so my answer to you, Mr. Tsukishima, is also no. I don’t know what the deal is between you two, but you’re doing this together.”

You can’t help but scowl despite being right in front of your professor. If it wasn’t for that darn kiss, you would’ve loved working with Tsukishima. Even though you don’t have the same classes, his schedule won’t be that hard to match up with because you two have the same training days. Secondly, he’s smart. You won’t have to carry the whole weight of the project. 

“You know what, I’ll reconsider.” A glimmer of hope lights up in your chest as you hear your professor’s words. “I’ll allow you two to work individually — but with an automatic ten point deduction for this project.”

“No,” you and Tsukishima respond at the same time. 

“Great! You’re already getting along swimmingly.” Your professor picks up his stuff and stands up. “Enjoy,” he waves a dismissive goodbye and leaves.

You slowly turn around to face Tsukishima and find that you share the same lour that he has. You cross your arms and lean on your professor’s desk. “Guess we’re together, Tsukishima.” 

--

You allowed yourself one week to compose yourself before you agreed to start the project with Tsukishima. You still saw him at training days, and even then, you tried to have the least amount of interaction with him so the ‘incident’ wouldn’t be brought up again. Meeting him for a project where it’s just you two is different and you needed time.

As much as you don’t want to be with him, you told yourself that it’ll be over soon. You just pushed the kiss in the back of your head and convinced yourself that it was just a stupid kiss. It didn’t mean anything. He probably just went along with it out of spite, so it’s best you think of it as a spur of the moment madness. That way, you won’t be bothered if he sordidly brings it up again. At least now, you can go back to your usual, cheeky self around him.

You’re about to text Tsukishima that you’ve arrived at the station you agreed to meet up at but you already see him there standing while he’s scrolling his phone with his usual white headphones on.

Unfortunately for you and him, the reptile assigned to you two are crocodiles. It’s the worst possible assignment you could get among the roster of reptiles assigned. You need to travel all the way to Wakabayashi for a legitimate crocodile farm to observe, compared to other reptiles which are easily accessible with nearby zoos in Miyagi. You just pray that you’ll only need this one trip to get all the data you need for your report.

You walk towards him and instantly regard how he looks. Despite being in the same university, you don’t see him around much. Even in your sole class together, you’re seated way too apart from each other to even look at each other’s direction. Not that being seated beside each other would’ve made a difference. You’re not friends. There’s no need to talk to him since everything that’s volleyball-related is relayed through line. To you, he’s just one of your players. As far as you’re concerned, the only Tsukishima you’re aware of is the one sweating his white shirt and training shorts during practice. 

To have this much involvement with him outside the gym is throwing you out of your usual loop. You continue studying him at a distance. Today he’s wearing white plaid pants, black turtleneck (probably long sleeves) with a lighter shade of black coat on top, and a brown wool scarf. He also has a gray bonnet that makes his blonde locks frame his face nicely. 

What the heck? Did he always dress like this even in class? How come you never noticed? 

He finally notices you. He puts down his phone and removes his headphones. “How long have you been there?”

“Wow, Tsukishima. You look kinda hot,” you blurt out without thinking.

His eyes expand at your statement that came out of nowhere. “Huh?!”

“Oh, sorry. That must’ve been random. But you look really good though. I kinda feel like I’m meeting a date,” you say with objective candor as you continue to stare at him. 

That catches him completely off guard. The other day you’re on the edge around him. You weren’t even paying much attention to him during training, but now you’re back to being a headache whose mouth knows no bounds as you faze him with your unfiltered thoughts. Now, it’s him who is uncomfortable again with your thorough eyes scanning him approvingly. 

“As if I’d ever date you,” he snaps back at your remark to which you scoff at.

“I didn’t say you would. Maybe you’re forgetting, I’d never go out with a member of the team.”

“Right. But kissing one is totally fine, huh?” he retaliates in an instant with a condescending look. He waits for your reaction, eager to see you distraught and bothered by it. To his dissatisfaction, you don’t behave in such a way. Instead, you sigh defeatedly.

“Yeah. Sorry about that. I got a little crazy that night,” you say casually to a degree that you sounded like it was just a petty accident. “You kissed me back, so I’m sure you were too. Right?” 

The last word is conniving, and he can tell why you phrased it that way. You’re leaving him no choice but to disregard what happened or else it’s going to seem like it meant something to him. The hell it does. It simply resurfaces back on his mind sometimes because of how unpleasant the memory is. 

‘Devious woman,’ he snarls in his head.

It should be okay. Your reason for what you did can also be his excuse for how responded to it. What he didn’t like is that he hasn’t even managed to make the most out of that incident, while you immediately found a way to undo the grave you dug for him to bury you into.

Plus, the only advantage he sees out of partnering with you for this project is the possibility of being able to pester you the way you pester him during practice. Obviously, that’s already thrown off the window. Now, there’s nothing in it for him for the duration of the project. He is left with nothing but the fact that he has to endure your company. To think that he’s already so miserable when this afternoon has barely even started.

“Yeah,” he answers with contained resentment. “Can we go on the bus now?” He asks to deviate away from the topic already. He was hoping he could still use the incident to unnerve you, but it’s for naught now. 

He enters the bus first and assumes you’ll follow him, which you do as you take your seat beside him. You get your shoulder bag and take out a notebook.

“Can you take a look at this outline I made for our report?” you ask while you hand him your notebook opened at a certain page.

“I can’t read while the bus is moving,” he says then waits for a lame comeback from you. But you don’t comment about it. Why must you keep on being such a wildcard?

“Ah, okay. I’ll just tell it to you then,” you smile at him. “This trip is going to take long. It’d be a waste of time to not make use of it, right?”

He groans internally. Why must you be right all the fucking time?

He also made an outline last night, but he didn’t tell you because he thought it’d be better if he just did the data-gathering himself and let you take the pictures the report should have. He forgot that you’re not as irresponsible and carefree as you present yourself to be.

He listens to you explain your outline, looking for flaws in it for the sake of his grade and also for his self-satisfaction. And he does find a few.

“You should have separate discussion points for mating characteristics for male and females. I’m sure they have distinct traits. Also, I think we should include more than just one species, preferably three if the farm has it.” He continues, “Maybe we can note certain unique behaviors per species. It would be inconclusive, but it would still be nice to include it as a commentary.”

He hopes to extract even just a tiny hint of embarrassment from you for he’s thought of it better than you did. But you just stare at him for a good few seconds before you break into a dazzled smile.

“Oh my God. Yeah, you’re absolutely right!”

You open your notebook and scribble the changes in your drafted outline. “Is there anything else?” You consult him genuinely. You accept his criticisms with an open mind, which vexes him even more. 

“Nothing,” he grumbles.

“Alright. Let’s just revise it again once we see what’s on the farm.”

He doesn’t bother replying anymore since you’re once again right.

He puts on his headphones again to drown out whatever chatter you plan to have with him since you’re done discussing the project for now. Instead of bugging him, you take out a bunch of readings and focus on them intently, completely ignoring him. 

With nothing to entertain him aside from the music on his ears, his peripheral keeps going back to you and how hard you’re concentrating with the papers in your one hand and a pen in the other. 

He removes one muff of his headphone from his ear and asks you, “Don’t you get motion sickness?”

You really must be into what you’re studying because you flinch when he speaks, causing you to drop your pen. 

He feels responsible for it so he leans down to pick it up, but you also do the same. As you both reach down to grab your pen, your temple collides with his. 

“Ow,” your fingers go to massage the spot, failing to notice as he does that your faces are too close for comfort. He watches you wince for a quick while before looking at him, finally realizing that he’s within a proximity familiar to you both. 

It’s reminiscent of that night except this time, the natural light affirms that it wasn’t just the ambiance of the club that made you attractive enough to pull him in and share that heinous kiss. With your well-lit features, he can see that you’re thinking about the same thing he is.

Your eyes fall on his lips and for some illogical reason, he does the same.

Like last time, you’re the first to act on it. The major difference is, instead of leaning in, you retreat. You sit up straight with your fingers still on the side of your head and smile graciously at him. “It’s fine, Tsukishima. I’ll get it,” you say, which he finds half-witted because he’s still bent down and he can already grasp the pen.

He sits back up and hands you your pen. You use the hand on your temple to get it.

“Oh, thanks.” You stare at the pen for a second, then tuck it in your pocket. “Anyways, yeah. I don’t have problems reading in a moving vehicle.”

You dive back to his question and disregard what just happened. It works for him. He’d rather not think about it as well. 

“Have you not seen me scrambling paperwork on our bus rides to and from tournaments?”

“No.” He prefers not to pay attention to you. Hell, he pretends you don’t exist when he can. So naturally, he doesn’t know what it is you do when you’re not being your pestering self. It pains him to admit it, but you do get shit done -- efficiently, too. He should be glad because at least, you won’t be like his previous groupmates.

Still, just you being … you, ticks him off.

You laugh out of nowhere. “For someone who doesn’t speak much, you’re so fucking transparent.”

He frowns, not being able to grasp what you meant.

“Okay, look. I like pissing you off. I really do. And you, you don’t like me a lot. But for this project. Can we pretend that I’m not your annoying manager and you’re not the nasty Tsukishima I know?” 

“How the fuck can I do that when we see each other almost everyday as such?”

You roll your eyes and smirk. “Right. What was I even thinking? Go ahead and be emo with your music over there while I study here, yeah?” You pat him on the shoulders twice with that patronizing grin you always give him before pulling your pen back from your pocket and focusing once more on your readings, completely paying no attention to him for the rest of the trip.

—

As soon as you reach the crocodile farm, Tsukishima suggests that you two roam the area separately to cover more ground. In reality, he just wanted to get rid of you even for just a few minutes. He needed a break from you.

He does so by taking his time strolling around the place, observing how the area is situated. It looks like a park with its vast lush green environment and man-made waters to habituate the crocodiles. There are four main areas: the museum, the hatchling house, the zoo, and the breeding pens. He first goes to the museum, looking at the skeletal structure of some crocodiles. It isn’t really significant to the project but he can’t help admire it.

When he realizes that he’s taking longer than he initially thought, he starts looking for you. He sends you a text, but you don’t reply. You had gone to the zoo’s direction so he assumes you’re somewhere around that area. 

When he does find you, you’re not alone.

There you are near a crocodile pen, getting friendly with a guy he’s sure you just met.

It’s so familiar. The only difference is that you’re not wearing the Frogs’ jacket and you’re not in the Sendai gymnasium. He walks towards your direction, not caring if he’s going to cut off your little chat. You’re there for the project, not to snag some random bozo.

As he closes in behind you, he hears your conversation.

“Actually, birds are more closely related to dinosaurs than crocodiles. You couldn’t tell, right?” you explain with zeal. 

Tsukishima stops in his tracks at the foreign feeling in his chest. Wait a minute. Is he actually impressed? Moreover, what the heck is he impressed for? You should know that. You are both in a higher herpetology class. Even though it hasn’t been discussed during lectures, it’s natural that you know that. However, the guy you’re talking with isn't as enthusiastic. 

“Can’t blame you though. Crocs and dinos share the same sexy vibe with those chill eyes and scaly skin. Also, look at those smokin webbed feet. Fucking work of art, dude. You feel me?” you press on fanatically.

The stranger looks at you with a forced smile, obviously weirded out by your ‘passionate’ description of the reptile. “Yeah, sure. I have to go now. Bye,” the guy bows and storms away from you. 

You turn your attention back to the lowered pen in front of you with a satisfied smile and shudder when you see Tsukishima already there beside you. 

“Gah! You scared me. Why didn’t you say anything?” you ask with your hand still on your chest.

“I didn’t want to interrupt you creeping out that stranger.”

You tither at his answer. “Glad you didn’t. It was fun seeing him all freaked out.” 

He finds it weird. He thought you just had an aversion towards athletes. That’s why you keep driving away anyone who’d approach you during matches. Apparently, that’s not the case.

“He looked like he’d follow you back to Miyagi if you didn’t go all freaky nerdy on him.” 

You jeer at his comment. “He could follow me to the ends of the Earth and I still wouldn’t give him my number. I’d rather date Mr. Crocodylus siamensis over here than boring dum dums blinded by how hot I am.” 

“Then why do you entertain them?” he follows up.

“Caaaauuusse it’s fun to see them squirm,” you declare cheerfully as you veer your gaze at him. “Why the sudden interest with the way I handle men, Tsukishima?”

You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your lips tugging up to form a playful smirk. “Don’t tell me you suddenly find me interesting?”

You really do know how to push the right buttons to provoke him. He grits his teeth from your audacity.

“I’m joking for fuck’s sake! My god. I already know that even if it’s just the two of us on this planet, and we’d have to procreate to restart the world population, you’d rather choose to doom humanity than have anything to do with me.”

Among all the correct things that came out of your mouth, that was the only thing he could verbally agree with. “Good you know,” he retorts. 

You don’t seem to take offense though. You still keep your unwavering smile as you get your phone out and take a picture of the Borneo crocodile. 

“Should we go see the breeding pens now?” you ask nonchalantly, dismissing the previous conversation like it was nothing. 

--

You both decide to hire a designated tour guide to assist you while you observe the crocodiles, particularly the ones for breeding. 

“Hi, Ms. l/n. I’m Sara and I will be your guide for today,” she introduced herself with a dedicated smile.

“I’m so thrilled that you and your boyfriend decided to learn more about crocodiles for your date,” she adds. 

You and Tsukishima glance at each other before turning back to her. 

“She’s not my girlfriend.” “He’s not my boyfriend.”

You both say simultaneously, except yours sounded like a friendly correction while his sounded like a dead announcement. 

“We’re just classmates for a project,” you correct her.

She bows apologetically with embarrassment and worry. “I’m so sorry for assuming that.”

“No worries, Sara,” you reassure her before Tsukishima says something unnecessary. “Can you lead us on the breeding pens? We’d like to observe the whole thing.” 

“Of course. Right this way.”

Aside from the mishap earlier, you find Sara competent at her job as she fills you in with details not included in the sign boards in the pens. She gives you information about the mating process that you didn’t find when you researched about the subject. You assume Tsukishima’s thinking the same because he doesn’t say anything out of the blue.

“By any chance, will we see a pair mating today?” he asks after a while.

“I’m not really sure, Mr. Tsukishima. It’s really up to the animals.”

You tug on Tsukishima’s sleeve when you catch sight of one crocodile latching himself on top of another.

“What?” he asks irritatedly, but follows your line of sight. 

“Oh, lucky. There you go.” Sara announces with a pleasant smile.

You get your phone and your notes. You multitask listening to Sara, taking photos, and scribbling notes on your paper pad. 

On the other hand, Tsukishima multitasks observing the crocodiles in action and observing you. 

You’re asking important questions to the guide while juggling other tasks. Yes, he doesn’t like you and loathes being partnered with you. However, that doesn't mean he won’t cooperate with you. He won’t mind if you ask him for help, but you seem to have even forgotten that he’s there. 

He grabs your phone from your hand, garnering a confused look from you.

“I’ll take the photos. You take down notes.”

You flash him an honest, grateful smile. “Thanks, Tsukishima.”

Then, you proceed with the things you’re doing more at ease. 

He can’t tell who he’s more pissed at, you or himself. Something about that display of productivity and wit unnerves him. It’s as if it’s telling him that his chagrin over you is unreasonable because you’re actually reliable when it counts. What’s worse is you’re completely oblivious to it. In fact, you’re almost ignoring him.

Goddamn it. What’s he doing? He’s completely distracted now from the project and is solely focused on you. He quickly shakes it off and calms himself down. His attention should be on the reptiles, not you.

He turns his attention back to the crocodiles, but the mating act only lasted a few minutes. After that, you both barrage Sara with an array of questions that she looked too overwhelmed by the end of your tour. 

You’ve covered almost everything for the day and it’s already around 6 in the evening when you get on a bus on the way back to Miyagi.

“That was fun!” you comment ardently with an abnormal shine on your face when you sit down on the bus on the way back. He wears his headphones on before you start a conversation he’s not willing to have. From his peripheral, he sees you turning to him and as he predicted, your mouth begins moving while you animatedly narrate words he could not hear. 

He’s already acting as if he can’t hear nor see you, but you still don’t stop. Knowing you, you will not stop until you make sure he notices you. He wearily removes his headphones only to see you not saying anything and only mouthing words with hand gestures. 

“Seriously?” He scowls at you. He’s already exhausted at having to deal with you even for just half a day, but you still have the energy to mess with him. 

You cover your mouth with your hand as you snicker but it erupts into a hoot of laughter shortly. You gasp ridiculously after you ride out your stupid amusement from poking at his patience. “Tsukki, I swear to God. You make the best faces,” you say while wiping away your joyous tears.

“Were you even going to say something worth listening to?” he questions sourly.

You study him then shake your head. “I think you’re tired, so let’s just discuss what we gathered next time. You can go ignore me now,” you tell him with an understanding smile despite the slight banter.

You tilt your body in his direction and hoist yourself up a bit to put his headphones back yourself like it’s no big deal.

You settle back into your seat while he stills on his seat, stunned with what you just did while you get your readings again and shrink to your own bubble. You don’t seem to make anything of it, so he doesn’t as well. It was very you to mindlessly get on anyone’s —  particularly his — personal space anyways.

He increases the volume of his headphones and tries to relax. Yet, his attention keeps swerving back at you every now and then. You’re really concentrating hard with your brows burrowed while you stare at your hand-outs. After a while, he notices you bobbing your head from the corners of his eyes.

He can tell you’re as tired as he is and trying hard to fight the sleep that’s taking over you. The bunch of papers you previously held are now clutched on your lap.

On the last bob of your head, you snap out of it. You blink repeatedly and return your eyes to your readings again. To no avail, you’re shutting down with your eyes fluttering when you try again. You look like you decided to give it a rest and put your papers back in your bag. You cross your arms and lean back to your seat. 

He feels relieved that you finally yield to your physical exhaustion. He doesn’t need an additional bullet point to his list of why he can’t fully hate you. Also, you won’t run your mouth at him if you’re asleep.

He feels the soft thump of your head on his shoulder. You probably did too as you suddenly bolt up and tell him ‘sorry' which he only understands based on how you mouthed the word. You lean back again and try to settle back to sleep. But when you start dozing off, you sway to the other side of your seat which is the aisle of the bus.

He grabs your shoulder to prevent you from tumbling down to the aisle. Your disoriented self looks around, alarmed at his sudden touch.

“Just fucking lean on me,” he spits out, irked that he has to say it out loud. It’s not like he pushed you away. You could’ve just stayed as you were and he would’ve turned a blind eye at it out of recognition of the effort you put in today. He’d just consider it one of those times that you do something annoying and he just ignores you as a response.

You regard him with dazed eyes. You open your mouth as if you’re about to say something but decide against it as you shut your eyes again and you let your head rest on his shoulder. But even then, your head still falls forward from time to time. He puts a hand on your forehead to settle you back on his shoulder and slides a bit downward on his seat to accommodate you. 

Jesus Christ, you can study in a moving vehicle but can’t even do a simple thing like sleep properly on it. Why does he even have to adjust for you?

He heaves furiously in contrast to your steady breathing, letting him know that you’re easing deeper to your sleep. 

He distracts himself by looking at the window, witnessing the unmoving dark sky and the changing scenery below. He lets out a sigh.

Maybe he should’ve just accepted the ten point deduction.

Part 1 || Part 3 || masterlist

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[lostysworld]

My dar(k)ling – The Darkling x reader

Part 2

Masterlist

Pairing: The Darkling x reader

Warning: none

Summary: You find new friends and try not to earn some enemies, but things become complicated, when you find someone in strong need of rescuing

After a dozen of attempts to find you a proper costume, Genya gave up and got you a black shirt, pants and a pair of boots, but insisted on another couple of shirts just in case.

In the end you decide not to take yourself as a prisoner and have a walk, giving that Kirigan left the castle a day ago and you cannot feel this pressure around you. That kind that made you stay in your room for three days in a row.

Your adventures start the moment you come out of your room and bump into a man in a red kefta. His black hair lays perfectly, and dreamy expression makes you think of the real reason for your collision.

– Oh, I'm sorry-

– It's fine. I should have looked my way.

Instantly, you recognize the grisha heartrender, who was in Kirigan's guard when he found you in the forest.

– Wait, I remember you, - the man smiles to you, when you wrinkle your nose in displeasure. – But I don't remember your name, sorry.

– Fedyor. Fedyor Kaminsky.

– Sure, - you extend your hand for him, and the heartrender shakes it slightly. – Could you show me around, if you are not in hurry?

You would not ask, if it was someone, but not Fedyor. His friendly expression, that always plays on his face, makes you feel safe or sort of.

The man nods and leads you down the corridor, when at the last turn you two almost bump into Kirigan.

Is he not supposed to be here, but with the army? Your disappointed face draws his attention, and he nods to his heartrender to leave you two. Fedyor smirks to you apologizing and goes away.

– Do you always need to spoil all the fun? - Kirigan arches a brow at your bold words, but only shows you a way outside following next to you.

– Always? Did I spoil your fun back in the forest?

You don't answer and roll your eyes not noticing his wide smirk while he's looking at you.

– So, what did you want from my heartrender?

You look more presentable now, than before, and the general's gaze every time slips to your side. He can't help but notice, how well black color suits you, as his eyes are roaming across your slim figure.

– I can't sit in my room all days long, - you follow him as you both go outside, where the man leads you to the training ground. – I need a distraction.

Kirigan nods you towards a group of grisha who are fighting with each other, looked after by a tall man, surely their trainer.

The sight of you wrinkling your nose makes him smirk. Everyone in the Palace are always tiptoeing around Kirigan. He hasn't seen a person, who behaved like that with him, for a long time.

– Not a fighter, actually. At least not in close combat.

– And what do you want to try then?

You look him closely. General seems sincerely interested in you and you can't understand why. But maybe you need to try to see the reason.

You lean your head to the side looking up to him.

– Archery.

– Archery? - he scans you with the critical glance and your brows arch at this, as you throw arms to the sides.

– What? Do I not look like an acher?

Kirigan chuckles amd shakes his head.

– You can do anything you want, Y/N. Tell Fedyor, he will find you something.

For a moment you are walking silently, and surprisingly this silence isn't uncomfortable, giving that some days ago you couldn't tolerate him next to yourself. But the next second you recall one thing.

– You told me I would meet the king, general. Though there was nothing of it mentioned for the last two days.

– Do you want to meet him? - his sly gaze switches on your face, and you instantly feel being too close to him, as you are almost the same height as he is.

– I don't think I have a choice, right?

His gentle smirk makes your heart beating faster, and you try to collect all your strength not to fall under his spell. You already saw several girl, gossiping about the man, and it even sounded pathetic.

– I asked the king to let you rest for a bit.

– Oh, what have I done for being asked a day off by the Black General himself?

Your sarcasm hits him not that much as does your addressing. The man stops and casts a grim glance at you. All of his previous friendly demeanor vanishes away.

– You have heard about me? - it is half question half statement, and you don't know what to do.

– I have indeed.

– And you are not afraid?

You arch a brow in a silent question.

– Of what?

– Of me.

You did hear about General Kirigan and all these rumors went much further amongst your people, of those still alive. Now you believe them, there is more in that men, then he shows to others. But despite whispers, you still have your own opinion to make.

Suddenly you notice like air around you becomes thicker and a bit darker. One-sided careless grin shows up on your lips, as you make a step closer to the man, leaving literally no space between you.

– I've spent my entire adult life living alone. Do you think, I am afraid of the darkness, General Kirigan?

Your shushed voice does give him a slight chill and he can't catch why. There is something behind your eyes, somewhere deeper, that doesn't let him tear his glance off you.

– Why? - his sudden question buffles you.

– What 'why'?

– Why living alone? Where's your family, Y/N?

Your once brave expression drops as you furrow and turn away from the man, continuing your walk.

– You don't want to tell about it? - he doesn't leave you, following behind. This time you get to bring your mischievous grin back on your face.

– You haven’t shared your secret yet, General, so I could share mine with you.

His smile doesn't last long, as someone behind you both calls him. On one brief moment he seems to roll his eyes in irritation, that makes you give up a short laugher.

– You will meet the king tomorrow. Now you'd better have a rest, Y/N.

You don't know what hits you exactly, but when the man turns around it's your turn to call him.

– Have a good day, General Kirigan, - he looks over you with a strange expression in his features and just nods, leaving you behind.

Not knowing what else can occupy you here, you walk away back to the palace.

Everyone seems so busy with whatever they have to do, that you simply feel yourself out of place. You don't know most of the people here, but already start recognizing some of the faces.

And when you catch Fedyor out of the crowd along with another heartrender, you flash him a bright smile.

Coming closer he loops his arm around your elbow dragging you with them, starting chatting immediately. Another man next to Fedyor is familiar to you too.

– I remember you, mister, - you point at him with your finger, leaning slightly forward to look at him. The man just gives you a displeased glance.

– It's Ivan, - Kaminsky looks at him with such love and adoration, that your heart clenches at the sight of them. – He can be a bit grumpy, but truly he's my better half.

Watching Ivan's face twitches slightly at these words gives you a faint smirk.

– Better? - you decide to cling to words as can hardly imagine this man being better than Fedyor, who is literally shining like a sun. – I would say just...other half.

Fedyor chuckles, but when you are about to turn to the wing, where your room is, Ivan immediately drugs you two back, out of the empty corridor.

– What's wrong? - you see nothing behind their broad backs, giving that you are tall enough. – Guys?

Ivan gives you a sign to shut up, and you finally hear someone's muffles voice. Two voices.

Slowly crawling from behind Fedyor you peer around the corner seeing the scene, that makes your blood slowly boiling.

Here in the opposite corner stands Genya and a man, that you believe, is the king, you should have met with, according to his attire. Not that he impresses you much.

Watching them you realize, that the king stands too close to the tailor and the girl definitely doesn't want to be there, but can't do anything to escape.

– Is that your king? - you look over your shoulder back on heartrenders, but lower your tone when Ivan shushes you. – Won't you do something with it?

– We can't. He's a king, Y/N.

You see sympathetic helpless glance of Fedyor, and just shrugs your shoulders, taking a step forward. Just at the same time, when Ivan drags you back.

– What the hell are you doing? - his abashed gaze is burning holes inside of your skull.

– Exactly what none of you here can.

You shake his arm off yours and move forward, coming out of the corner. No one of two people in front of you still doesn't notice your presence.

– Your Majesty! - the man flinches from your loud voice, and you seem to hear faint swearing of Ivan behind you. The frightened glance of Genya flies to you. – General Kirigan demands the presence of miss Safin in the map room...It's urgent.

You don't know, how this nonsense appears in your mind, but you try not to let the grin show on your lips. Something inside of you makes you feel proud.

The king hesitates for a moment, stunned by the fact, that he's caught in such situation. But you don't flinch wearing the same cold demeanor as before. Taking a step back, he nods and shows Genya the way out towards you.

– Of course.

If Genya can run in that moment, she surely will. The readhead girl walks the other half of the corridor to you as if it is an escape route from her death.

As soon as she reaches you, her expression falls only on a second, but when both of you turn around the corner and see Ivan and Fedyor, who tries not to smile to much.

Genya furrows, but when she opens her mouth to ask, what's going on, Ivan cuts her off addressing you.

– What you've done was foolish-

– Foolish?! - now you can't hold back your irritation. – Would you better watch the king putting his hands on what doesn't belong to him?

With that you go on with your way towards the entrance of the castle, dragging the tailor with you. Behind your back you can hear Fedyor's voice trying to calm his lover down.

But then Genya stops you, still too frightened and disoriented. You believe this isn't the first time, but no one can get used to such things no matter how often it happens.

– Y/N, wait. Where are we going?

– Out of here, I guess. Garden, training grounds, main hall, whenever.

A faint smile touches her lips, and the girl lays her hand on your forearm.

– You really shouldn't do this, he's the king-

– Then I don't want a king like this one!

Your voice echoes around the half empty hallway, and it does draw some unnecessary attention to you. But you don't give a damn now.

You don't know Genya much, but these several days with her show, that she surely deserves more than all of this. Confident, stubborn and brave. Genya Safin is definitely brave. This is all about her, and how can't you defend her after this?

But you know, that there in Little Palace, you have only one true king. General Kirigan.

And he's exactly the one, who is coming to your group at the moment.

You see Ivan and Fedyor straighten and Genya casts a look behind your back. It's not necessary for you to turn back to know about the man's presence. Even birds stop singing, when Kirigan is around.

– What's going on here? - this demanding strict voice shakes your a bit. Ivan throws a brief mocking glance to your side, and you only roll your eyes at him. You turn rapidly to the general.

From the only look at him, you can swear, that he already knows everything. God only knows how.

– Miss Y/N, - not getting any answer from others, Kirigan switches his glance to you. His silky voice makes you nervous, cause it means nothing good. He nods aside indicating to talk with you privately, but then comes back to his heartrenders. – I will talk with you two later.

You don't like his mood, in the end all of this was your idea and yours only.

– You won't, - general switches his attention on you. One way or another, your boldness will backfire.

– Excuse me?

– You won't talk with them, it's not their fault, - you keep eyeing the man in front of you. – It was my decision, and it's not for them to suffer for this.

Ivan and Fedyor don't even flinch, as Kirigan's gaze goes to them and then back to you. He waves them off, dismissing, and all three of grisha vanish from the hall.

He drags you out of the palace, gripping onto your forearm.

– What the hell where you thinking, when went against the king? - his hissing rings in your ears.

– You are speaking as I am a traitor, general. But I just did the thing no one of you wanted to deal with.

– He is the king, - you try to shake Kirigan's hand off you, but he's holding for dear life. Finally you just relax, not resisting the man. – And who are you here? Nothing.

– He is not my king, as you are not my general. But if I needed to do this again, I would and not once.

Kirigan does insult you with his words, and you should admit it isn't the nice thing to hear. This mixed feeling towards the general leads you astray, cause feeling displeasure, irritation, anger and that strange pull towards the man at the same time is something you can't handle now.

You move closer only for him to hear your words.

– You lead your army to the war, General. Talk about grisha safety at every corner, but hardly can defend those in the palace. Or just don't want to. Isn't it pathetic?

– Watch your language, Y/N-

– Watch your actions, Kirigan! I'm not a little girl, that you brought from the woods as a present like Genya. I'm not interested in court intrigues, - he looks at you with both anger and surprise. No one here allows to reprimand him like this. Yet you are standing in front of him. – I will not follow your stupid rules, where superiors are allowed everything they want to do.

His gaze, roaming across your features, halts on your eyes. His dark intense glare somehow betrays his own thoughts, as if he's partly agree with you.

– Unlike you, General, I have no limits to get what I want.

You go past him inside the hall, slightly brushing his shoulder with yours. A slight smirk touches his lips.

You can be bold and wild, wayward or stubborn. But you surely hold a spark inside of you, and this spark can't be shadowed with his powers nor with people around you.

Kirigan looks over his shoulder only to see, that you already dissapper in the crowd.

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Paging Healer Malfoy // Chapter Two - The Improper Use of Magical Materials (D.M)

A/N: CHAPTER TWO!! I wonder fi you can all guess what’s going to happen in this chapter from the title alone? Draco deals with some interesting cases, and I am loving writing this series. The love for the prologue and chapter one blew me away. I only hope you love this one just as much!!!

Summary: Coffee equals venting as well as inquisitions over personal lives. Interesting patients have their way of falling into Draco’s lap.

Warnings: mentions of coffee, mentions of procedures, hospitals, injuries, swearing, mentions of food, mutual pining, yearning, an overuse of commas and semi-colons, interesting medical cases.

Word count: 4k

Prologue// Chapter One

By the time Draco has a long enough lull in patients, it’s been a couple of hours and he’s more than ready for a coffee.

The tradition of coffee with her had started through their training; it was how they vented to each other after a particularly long shift that had either been difficult or slow. It was how over the course of their training; their friendship had formed. It was over the coffees and the vents that Draco slowly realised his feelings for her were far from platonic.

(Y/N) stands at the admit desk, chatting to one of the longest working nurses at St. Mungo’s, Lydia. Lydia had seen it all; there was very little that could shock her. Draco thinks out of his eight years at St. Mungo’s, he had only ever seen Lydia speechless from shock twice. Both of those cases had not had positive outcomes.

(Y/N) greets Draco with a smile that almost knocks him breathless. He slots his chart into the discharged box and cracks his knuckles; he grins at (Y/N)’s displeased face, knowing that that particular habit gets on her nerves.

“Are you free now?” She asks; an eyebrow raised as if she’s expecting another rebuff.

Draco nods, “Coffee?”

(Y/N) smiles broadly; another smile to leave him breathless and hopelessly yearning for her as she murmurs her goodbyes to Lydia.

The café for St. Mungo’s is on the very top floor, and Draco thanks every god and deity out there that the hospital board had seen fit to install a lift instead of relying on the stairs. It was useful for practical reasons too; especially transporting patients to different floors and such alongside Draco’s continued avoidance of physical exercise.

It wasn’t an overly large café, but it catered for the Healers and nurses on every floor as well as the steady stream of patients and their families that came through the doors. It constantly smelt like coffee beans; the scent settling within Draco’s bones as he walks to the till with (Y/N) by his side.

Happy to see their usual table by the furthest window empty, Draco heads over there with their tray of freshly brewed coffee. They sit across from each other and share a tired smile; they were coming up to halfway through their shift now. They both loved their job; they couldn’t imagine working anywhere else as anything else but even they couldn’t help but countdown the minutes until they could clock off and go home to their showers and their beds.

Adding a splash of milk to her coffee, (Y/N) asks, “What do you think of the new trainees?”

Draco nods, “I think they’re going to be better than last year for definite.”

(Y/N) nods her head in agreement. Draco grabs a sugar packet from the centre of the table, “What do you think of your student?”

She rolls her eyes fondly, “He’s rich, that’s for sure. The only other person I’ve ever seen with a tailored lab coat is you.”

Draco huffs; tugging at the collar of his lab coat, “It was a gift, thank you very much.”

She laughs, “And you look very dashing.”

Draco turns her nose up at her, “Tell me something I don’t know.”

(Y/N)’s eyes sparkle with mirth over the rim of her coffee cup; the cup barely concealing the smile on her face. Draco returns the grin in earnest; never truly able to stay mad at her or hold a grudge against for too long.

“How have you been?” She asks; light concern lacing her voice.

“I’ve been okay,” Draco answers; expecting the worry she always has for him. He had been diagnosed with insomnia after the second wizarding war. It came in waves; he could have weeks, even months, where he slept fine, but then he would have periods where sleep was a distant memory.

“Have you been sleeping better? I can always prescribe you something if you need it.”

Draco waves away her offer, “I don’t need medicine to help me sleep.”

“Draco, you have insomnia. You, yourself, have admitted that traditional remedies aren’t helping.”

“(Y/N), I’m fine,” He reaches out for her hand; she lets him take it, “I’m fine. I’m sleeping better, I promise.”

She bites her lip; looking like she so desperately wants to believe him. For a second, Draco thinks she’s going to argue but at the last moment she decides against it. Instead, whispering what she wanted to say at the start of their conversation, “I feel like I haven’t seen you in so long.”

“We see each other nearly every day,” Draco argues.

“We’re so busy, Draco, we don’t talk like we used to.”

Draco sighs; knowing how right she is. If they found themselves on nights together, they would spend most of that shift together – especially if it was a quiet one. They would talk aimlessly about whatever came to their minds; the job, their families, their love life.

To Draco, it felt like his feelings for her were almost inevitable. The longer he spent with her; the longer he thought of her. Their fumble at the Christmas party last year had driven a wedge between them; neither ready to talk about what happened for the fear of losing their crutch. They so heavily relied on the other in terms of emotional release from their jobs; if things went south, what would they do?

Catching sight of the clock, (Y/N) sighs, realising that their conversation was over, “I need to go chase up some labs. As smart as my trainee he is, he’s useless at keeping on top of things.”

She stands; finishing the final few sips of her coffee. Her hand finds its way to Draco’s shoulder where it squeezes it once in goodbye, “I’ll find you at the end of your shift, we can get the tube together.”

He smiles at her, “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

And he wouldn’t.

------

The first week with the new trainees goes swimmingly. Draco cannot help but compare this year to last year where last year he had to dismiss one Healer immediately based on their bed manner with patients; inappropriate comments flying freely.

The second week with the new trainees gives Draco a breather from needing to watch over them constantly. He starts to spend less time flitting between their patients and more time taking on his own cases whilst still supervising the trainees and their assigned attendings.

As the trainees find their feet, Draco finds it easier to fall back into his routine from before they arrived. Working in Emergency Medicine meant that there was very little leeway for a strict routine, but there was always a lull in the early afternoon that allowed Draco to sneak upstairs to the café and grab some lunch without being pulled in for consultation after consultation.

However, Draco feels that something is off within his very bones. As he lines up to pay for his food and drink, he feels suspicious. As he sits down at the table he usually shares with (Y/N) - admitting to himself that he does miss her presence when he’s eating alone – he feels as if he needs to rush whatever he’s about to eat.

Eight years as a Healer has taught Draco to trust that gut instinct; to follow it to very end to where it leads.

The familiar static of the tannoy system precedes the announcement of his name, “Healer Malfoy to Trauma Two. Healer Malfoy to Trauma Two.”

Draco looks down at his meal sadly; briefly wondering whether the patient would protest to him eating through his trauma. He throws out the food as he rushes from the café, stethoscope clinking around his neck as he amps up his brisk walk to a flat out run.

As he runs to the trauma room, Draco has no idea what awaits him when he arrives in the emergency room. He has no clue as to his patient; their age, gender, ethnicity. As of right now, he couldn’t care – all he needs to know is that there is someone who needs his help.

The patient has already been lifted onto the bed when Draco arrives. Studiously ignoring his growling stomach, he looks to Vera, “What do we have?”

“27 year old Rowan Talbott; injured in a duel between friends. BP and oxygen all fine though his pulse is a little fast.”

Rowan Talbott writhes on the bed in pain, gasping, “It hurts so much.”

“Where does it hurt, Mr. Talbott?” Draco questions; standing over the patient.

“My side! It feels like its burning.”

Draco makes eye contact with the nurse who helps to roll the young man onto his other side. With deft, experienced fingers, Draco examines the patient.

“Mr. Talbott,” Draco calls out over the patients cries, “Can you tell me which spell you were hit with?”

“Entrail-Expelling, I’m sure of it.”

Draco sighs; taking a step back and removing his gloves, “I can assure, Mr. Talbott, you were not hit with the entrail-expelling spell.”

“How do you know?” He demands; face cross.

“For one thing, Mr. Talbott, your entrails are still very much inside of your body. And another, it looks like you were instead hit with the stinging hex which has caused the burning,” Draco looks towards Vera, “Perform the counter-jinx and let him sleep it off?”

Vera nods; her face amused at the sound of disappointment in Draco’s voice.

He tears off the trauma gown; throwing it in the disposal bin. He looks towards the patient who slowly sits up in bed; his face aflame with embarrassment, “So I’m not dying?”

Draco shakes his head, “Not dying.”

Rowan Talbott sags in relief as Vera performs the counter-jinx.

“Rest now, Mr. Talbott, I’ll check on you in an hour or so.”

Rowan Talbott doesn’t reply; his snores fill the room as the porters come to move him to an empty exam room.

Both Draco and Vera chuckle as they leave the room. They return to the admit desk where Draco places his chart on the side.

“There never is a dull day, is there Vera?”

Vera laughs, “The day it is dull here, Draco, is the day I leave.”

“Merlin let’s hope that never happens there. How would we run without you, Vera?”

“Draco Malfoy, you are a flatterer.”

Draco laughs, “I’m going out to grab some lunch. I’m sure there’s a muggle café down the road. I won’t be long.”

Vera nods; waving him off as she’s pulled into another case by another Healer.

Before he can be dragged anywhere, Draco rushes to the break room. There, he grabs his jacket – replacing his lab coat with it and then makes his way to the exit. Through it all, his stomach has been growling like a wild animal; the café down the road would still be open, Draco thinks gratefully as he inhales the crisp autumn air.

At the café, Draco orders a sandwich and a coffee to go. All the while knowing that he would have to eat it on the way back to the hospital should another trauma come in or that he’s needed by someone.

By the time Draco arrives back at the break room; he’s eaten half his sandwich and finished his coffee. Munching on the other half, he doesn’t hesitate to pour another cup of coffee and settle on the break room couch.

A few years back, before Draco had started his training, the emergency room staff were given a television by a patient who was grateful for the saving of his life. After much attempting to get it working in a hospital that was, back then, mostly magical, the TV had become a hit with the nurses. However, no-one dared to switch the channel should something happen that they couldn’t fix, so it played a constant loop of the muggle news.

It’s this that Draco watches as he finishes the last crumbs of his sandwich and the dregs of his coffee. He kicks his feet up onto the coffee table and lets himself have a few minutes to himself with his eyes closed; letting the stress of the last few weeks leave his body.

All too soon, however, the usual guilt settles over Draco. In his early days as a trainee, Draco found it exceptionally hard to take for himself. He always had to be helping; he always had to be working. He simply couldn’t sit still. Draco thinks it stems from his family’s involvement in the second wizarding war where they had left the Battle of Hogwarts without sticking around to make sure that the survivors were well cared for.

It’s that thought that has Draco hauling himself off the couch and back into the fray.

“Janice – lovely, lovely, Janice. What do we have free?” Draco asks; always ready to compliment the nurses.

Janice laughs, “Malfoy, you are a flirt,” She hands him a chart, “23 year old female with stomach pain.”

Draco grins at Janice; happily taking the chart from her hands. He knocks on the door to exam room one before entering. He smiles welcomingly at the patient, “Miss Collins, I understand you’re having some stomach pain.”

Miss Collins nods her head, “For the last few days now.”

Draco makes some notes on her chart before putting on some latex gloves. He points to her stomach and asks, “Do you mind?”

Miss Collins shakes her head and lifts her shirt to reveal her stomach, “I don’t mind.”

As Draco examines her; he asks her routine questions that Nurse Marie lists the answers of on her chart. “And there’s no chance you could be pregnant?” He asks; broaching the subject carefully.

She shakes her head, “I got my period last week.”

Draco nods; continuing his examination of her stomach, feeling some tenderness which understandably is causing some discomfort and pain. Draco removes his gloves and thinks through the possible causes of this pain. He smiles down at Miss Collins before addressing Nurse Marie, “Let’s get a blood test and give her anti-nausea potion, thank you. We’ll monitor you over the next couple of hours to see if things get better or worse. How does that sound?”

Miss Collins opens her mouth to reply but she’s cut off by a timid voice asking, “Healer Malfoy?”

Draco turns from his examination of Miss Collins to find a trainee stood behind him, “How can I help, Healer Kinghorn?”

Matthew Kinghorn flounders for a moment; trying to find the words to explain his predicament to his superior. Draco frowns at the trainee, “What’s wrong?”

“There’s something you need to see.”

“Is it urgent?”

Matthew nods, “I’d say so.”

“Is the patient dying?”

“No, but-”

Draco cuts him off impatiently, “Then are you able to handle it?”

Matthew huffs, “With all due respect sir, you need to see this. I don’t want to be the one to pull it out.”

Draco’s eyebrows furrow, “Pull what out?”

-----------

“That is a wand,” Draco states; staring at the x-ray.

Matthew nods wildly; humming his affirmation.

“The patient,” Draco starts, “Has a wand in their rectum.”

“Do you see why I pulled you away?” Matthew asks, “It looks to be 10 inches.”

Draco can’t help the snort that leaves him though he knows he should act more professionally around a trainee. He holds a hand to his mouth as the other points to the image on the lightbox, “Why?”

Matthew shrugs, “The patient wouldn’t say.”

Draco sighs, “Well they’re at risk for a perforation. What room are they in?”

“Exam room three,” Matthew answers.

Draco pulls the x-ray from the lightbox; stuffing it in a file before walking to exam room three. Entering the room – Matthew close behind – Draco finds the patient lying on his front with his knees tucked up to his chest.

“Mr,” Draco pauses; holding his hand out for the chart from Matthew, “Winters, I’m Healer Malfoy. Would you care to tell me what’s happened?”

Mr. Winters groans; his voice full of pain and embarrassment as he replies, “My wand is stuck.”

Draco slips on some gloves before approaching Mr. Winters, “Sir, you know that that isn’t the proper use of your wand.”

“I know that.”

“I’m glad you’re aware.”

Mr. Winters sighs, “I just had an itch that I couldn’t get, and I just looked at my wand and before I thought it through, I was doing it.”

“I’m not here to judge you, Mr. Winters,” Draco murmurs, “I’m just here to help extract your wand, but we need to be careful so please remain as still as possible.”

Mr. Winters nods; trying to relax as much as he can and remain as still as possible. Draco looks to Matthew who remains by the door; watching the scene with wide eyes, “Healer Kinghorn, will you please fetch some lubricant and any tweezers you can find.”

“You’re going to pull it out?!” Mr. Winters cries.

Draco walks around the bed, removing his gloves, and bends so he’s eye level with Mr. Winters, “I think it’s our first option. You lost hold as you were inserting it, that’s correct?”

Mr. Winters nods, so Draco continues, “So I’m going to use the tweezers to try and grab hold of the end of your wand. Should I meet any resistance, however, I am going to have to call a surgeon.”

“I could need surgery?” Mr. Winters shouts.

Draco nods, “It’s a possibility. There is a slight chance of perforation so any resistance, it’s a surgeon.”

Matthew comes bustling back into the exam room carrying everything Draco asked for including a pain potion and relaxation potion. He lays it all out on a tray before wheeling it to the end of Mr. Winters bed.

“Thank you, Healer Kinghorn,” Draco murmurs before turning back to Mr. Winters, “I’m going to give you a pain potion, so you won’t feel a thing, is that okay?”

Mr. Winters nods, holding out a hand for the bottle. Draco pours the right amount into a small cup before handing it to the patient; watching him finish it all before making his way to end of the bed.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Winters?” Draco calls; slipping on some fresh latex gloves.

“Ready,” He answers. Draco nods despite tef cat that the patient can’t see him.

Draco turns to Matthew; his hand out expectantly for the lubricant and the tweezers. Together, they manage to dislodge the item from Mr. Winters; his wand offering little trouble at all. Matthew watches the procedure wide-eyed and in awe as Draco manages to extract Mr. Winters wand.  

He bags Mr. Winters wand as Matthew helps him back onto his side; reminding him that most likely isn’t quite ready to sit on him bum any time soon.

Mr. Winters has tears in his eyes as he thanks both Draco and Matthew. They wave off his thanks before leaving him to sleep off the remaining pain potion in his system; once he wakes he’ll be discharged and given a leaflet on appropriate wand use.

Draco co-signs Matthew’s chart before handing it back to the redheaded trainee. “You did well,” Draco compliments with a smile.

Matthew beams, “Really?”

Draco nods, “You went beyond what I asked you to do and made sure the patient was comfortable. You also recognised that you were out of your depth and you needed help. Past trainees haven’t thought of that; they would go straight in with the procedure and make a mistake. Well done, Matthew.”

Matthew nods; rubbing his hand across the back of his neck as his skin warms with the kind words from Draco. “Thank you, Healer Malfoy,” He replies earnestly.

Draco claps Matthew on the shoulder, “Go get some lunch, Matthew. You don’t know when you’ll be able to eat again.”

Matthew smiles at Draco again before leaving; rushing for the lift to head up to the café.

Draco shakes his head at the eagerness displayed by his trainee, but also pride in the fact that he did think before acting which is vitally important in a job like this. It requires you to think fast and act fast; it seems that Matthew had the talent for both. Draco couldn’t help but wonder how he would be like in a major trauma situation.

Returning to the admit desk, Draco finds that all patients are accounted for and for the first time in a while, he has no immediate need to see a patient – still waiting on test results for them all. He removes his stethoscope from his shoulders as he enters the break room; the television still playing its circuit of the daily muggle news.

(Y/N) sits at the small round table in the middle of the room; her eyes focused on the small screen. The volume always remains low; never playing loud enough for anyone to hear the words leaving the news anchors mouth. Instead, they rely on the red banner travelling across the bottom of the screen from right to left where it announces the breaking news.

“Anything changed since an hour ago?” Draco asks; heading straight for the coffee pot only to find that its empty. He pulls the coffee grounds down from the cupboard and begins to make a fresh pot.

“I don’t think so,” (Y/N) answers, “A celebrity couple is getting divorced; a royal is having a baby, and there’s a debate in the muggle parliament today.”

Draco leans against the counter; waiting for the coffee to brew. He nods, “Nothing new then.”

“I heard about your… impalement,” (Y/N) comments; turning her attention from the television screen to Draco.

“How?”

(Y/N) raises an eyebrow at him, “Lydia.”

“Of course,” Draco rolls his eyes, “I can’t say it wasn’t interesting.”

She snorts, “You always get the interesting ones.”

“(Y/N), you are an attending in emergency trauma surgery. All of your cases are interesting.”

(Y/N) huffs, “But I haven’t seen an impalement in so long!”

“It was barely even an impalement. The patient had an itch he couldn’t reach, that’s all.”

(Y/N) is silent for a minute before bursting into giggles.

“Act professional, (Y/N),” Draco chides but he cannot help the smile at that spreads across his face at the sound of her laughter. Soon enough, he finds himself chuckling along with her; their laughter providing the chorus for the chaos of the emergency room.

(Y/N) wipes her eyes with her sleeve after she finishes laughing, “It’s like what Healer Dorian used to say before she retired.”

“What?”

“If you don’t laugh, it’ll kill you.”

Draco snorts, “There’s some truth to that, but I don’t think Mr. Winters was laughing.”

(Y/N) shakes her head, “I don’t think he will be. I think he’ll choose muggle medicine over ours now to avoid us all.”

He hums, “Most likely, but if he needs us that badly, he’ll come back.”

(Y/N) doesn’t reply; she just shakes her head fondly, hair slipping from its ponytail.

“What shift are you down for next week?” He asks.

She grins at him; her eyes crinkling in the corners, “Why? Do you miss me when I’m not with you?”

He places a hand on his heart and stretches the other out; mimicking a Shakespearian pose, “Dear (Y/N), my heart yearns for you all the time, but it misses you more in your absence. Pray, tell me your shift pattern next week so I know whether to cry tears of happiness or sadness.”

A ball of paper hits his face. Her laughter fills the room, “You’re such an arse, Draco.”

He grins toothily, “And yet you’re friends with me.”

She glares at him playfully, “I’m regretting that decision past me made.”

“I don’t believe you for a second.”

She rolls her eyes, “I’m on nights next week.”

Draco pouts; playing the overdramatic lovestruck fool he is, “But when will I see you?”

“When I’m leaving… like now,” She stands from her chair; grabbing her drink and her unfinished charts.

Draco swivels in his chair; watching her leave the break room with his feelings all in disarray as to whether they’re finally going to confront of what is so clearly in front of them.

*********

Paging Healer Malfoy taglist: @sycathorn-slush @obsessedwithrandomthings @kpopgirlbtssvt @kalimagik @brycelahelalover @fallinallinmendes @mischi3f-manag3d @remmysrecs @willowbleedsonpaper @nao-cchi @haphazardhufflepuff @soundsquid27 @mytreec @maydillydally @chaoticgirl04 @pregnant-piggy @rhyxn @acciotwinz @birdie-writes @reaganwonders @chanelwonders @izzytheninja @ravenclawbitch426 @ohissandhalasta @missmulti

Draco Malfoy taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @obx-beach @obxmxybxnk @sycathorn-slush @dracomalfoyswifey @kashishwrites @justmesadgirl​ @detroitobsessed​ @reaganwonders​

[crayonwriting]

09 - Now I Really Know

Summary: Maiko just wanted her good ol’ dad to walk her down the aisle. So, she invited the three men from your past in hopes of meeting him. The only problem was, which one of them is it?

Pairings: Oikawa Tooru x Reader, Bokuto Koutarou x Reader, Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

Disclaimer: This is based on the movie directed by Phyllida Loyd and written by Catherine Johnson which is inspired by the music of the pop group ABBA.

catch up here!

You were practically dreading going out with Oikawa and Bokuto yesterday because if you hadn’t, then you wouldn’t be cramming right now with the wedding preparations. Maiko was your only daughter—only child!— and you wanted everything to be perfect for her. 

But, you couldn't blame Oikawa or Bokuto. You could have easily said no, but you chose the opposite. Did you regret it? Not really. Being honest with yourself, it's the most fun you've had with men ever since…well, ever since these men themselves left you all those years ago.

Shaking your head to dismiss the thought and memory, you continued to clean up around the area.  All the preparations that you made yesterday are still present. The fairy lights that you set up are still intact. In your arms were multiple table cloths which you laid down one by one. Just as you were on your third, Maiko walks past you with a serious expression on her face. You hurried over to her.

"Maiko!"

She turned to you sharply, an unreadable expression on her face. "What?"

"Are you okay?" Her eyebrows scrunched together.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." She was about to leave again but you stopped her, grabbing her arm.

"Woah, woah. Wait a minute." You eyed her cautiously. "Maiko," your voice was stern, "I know you." She kept silent but you saw her nervously gulping down. "The other day at the party…You looked freaked out, tell me what's going on." Your daughter looked at you for a moment before her face contorted into worry. You saw how tears brimmed in the corners of her eyes and you swear your heart broke.

"I-I don't know what to do." She whispered. A tear slid down her cheek. You instantly pulled her towards you, crushing her in a big hug. You kissed her temple tenderly and squeezed her tight.

"It's alright. You don't have to do anything." You pulled away from her, to look at her in the eyes. "It's not too late yet. I can still call off the wedding. Everyone will—"

"Call…Call off the wedding?" Maiko raised her eyebrow. You tilted your head in confusion, holding her by her shoulders.

"Isn't that what you want?"

"No.No," she pulled away from you, "No, that's what you want!" 

"No—" you tried defending yourself but she didn't let you.

"Yes! You didn't want this wedding to happen in the first place! You didn't have a wedding yourself! You just did the baby thing, well good for you!""

"Why are you mad at me now?!"

"Because!" She covered her face as she blindly wiped at her tears. "I love Minoru with all my heart and when we have kids, I want them to know who their father is. Not like I did." She huffed out and stormed off. You stood dumbfounded and pissed at your daughter's outburst.  She didn't have to yell at you like that. She could've just told you calmly.

You hasten your pace in preparing the tables, aggressively placing down the placemats and centerpieces. Your employees eyed you warily but didn’t mention anything about it. You grumbled to yourself as you completed covering all the tables.

“You should probably take a break. The sun’s getting to you.”

You turned around and saw Kuroo leaning on a nearby wall with his arms crossed over his chest and eyes trained on you.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…,” you mumbled under your breath, proceeding to get away from him as soon as possible. “Get lost, Kuroo. I thought I told you to leave this island.”

“You know very well that I’m as stubborn as you are, so we could do this all day.” He started walking around with his hands in the pockets of his board shorts.

“What do you want from me?” Kuroo was the last of your past lovers to visit you, despite being the very first to leave. It was with him that you had the most doubts as to his motives of coming and staying on the island. You can’t help but remember the day you knew the truth and how much it broke you and your soul.

“Why didn’t you tell me that it was Maiko who was getting married?”

“And why would I? It’s not any of your business.”

“Why is she even getting married in the first place? Why is she settling down on the island?” This caught your attention. It was unexpected to know that Kuroo was also apprehensive about this whole wedding. “If it was up to me, I’d be telling her to get a life.”

You nodded slowly, still letting his words sink in. It was like yours and Kuroo’s ideals and opinions were in line with each other.

“She’s a bright kid.”

“I know, I know.” You nodded again. “But, you know, my daughter has a mind of her own.” Kuroo grunted and chuckled. 

“I don’t think she knows what really wants in life.” Kuroo trained his cat-like eyes on you. “You see, I think part of her just wants to let you know that she’s not going to leave you alone here on your own.

You snapped out of your dazed state and looked at him. “What does that mean?”

“Y/N, look.” He placed a hand on your shoulder which burned your skin but you did nothing to push it away. “I have two grown children. I know something about letting go. If Maiko felt you were okay on your own, would she want something different for herself?”

“Okay, you should probably stop right there.” You lifted your hand up to his face and backed away. “You should know, of all people, that I love being on my own. I really do! In fact, every morning, I get up and thank kami-sama that I don’t have some middle-aged,” you eyed him up and down, “menopausal man telling me how to run my life.”

Kuroo scoffed at her, placing his hands on his hips. Damn Y/N, this is why I still love you.

"You better leave Kuroo. And this is probably the last time I'm going to ask nicely."

"Y/N." He grabbed onto your wrist firmly, slightly tugging you to himself. “At least let me help you.”

“You know what? Fine.” You shoved the table cloths in your arms to his. “Do whatever you want to do. I can never win against you.” You mumbled the last part to yourself. Kuroo smiled triumphantly to himself and lay the table cloths on the tables. You were adding some flowers to small vases on the side, not paying him any attention. 

Although you had to admit that Kuroo’s presence was making chills run up and down your back. Even after all these years, he still had that effect on you. You shook your head, reminding yourself that he left you for another girl. You huffed out and continued with your task.

When the vases were filled, you placed them on top of the tables. Kuroo was done with the table cloths and proceeded to take the vases in your hand. He set them up on the other tables without a word. When you were done, you instructed some of your employees to get a few more chairs from the barnhouse. Kuroo followed them. You rolled your eyes at him and continued to ignore his presence.

You brought out strips of fabric you’d prepared to decorate some of the chairs. You didn’t know any complicated designs though. You just wrapped the fabric along the back of the chair and finished it off with a ribbon. The task distracted you momentarily until you noticed Kuroo beside you, looking at how you were tying the fabric. He was attempting to do it on one of the chairs.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“I can’t figure out how you’re doing the loop then turning it into a ribbon.”

“You don’t know how to tie a ribbon? How do you tie your shoelaces?

“I know how to tie a ribbon, thank you very much.” He playfully stuck out his tongue. “I just don’t know how you’re looping the fabric like that,” he pointed to your hands, “And making the ribbon upright.”

You shook your head. You finished your own ribbon and went to stand closer to him. You took his hands in yours and guided him to twist the fabric, the proper way. Kuroo did his best to concentrate on your instructions but how can he when your elbows were brushing against each other and the warmth and softness of your hands over his was sending his heart into overdrive. He was supposed to be cocky but his brain wasn’t functioning at the moment.

“Were you even listening?” When he turned to you, you had your hands on your waist and a displeased expression on your face. Kuroo opened his mouth but nothing came out. You sighed in frustration and walked away.

“Y/N! I’m sorry! Please, teach me again, I’ll listen.” He twirled you around by your shoulders. “Please. I just want to help.” He offered a soft smile.

Damn it. You thought.

“Fine. This is the last time I’m gonna show you.” You shoved a strip of the fabric in his hands and stood behind two chairs. “Wrap it around the back first and make sure it’s centered. The ends should have at least the same length.” Kuroo did as you told. “Then wrap it around one more time then cross them over each other at the back. Make a loop with the left side and then wrap the right side around it. Push the right end and make another loop at the bottom then pull it tightly so it won’t unravel.”

Kuroo’s ribbon was slightly angled to the right but it was presentable. You pulled at the looped ends lightly to make them more secure. 

“Not bad, huh?” He crossed his arms on his chest with a smug smile. You couldn’t help but chuckle and pat his shoulder arm.

“I’ve seen better.” You walked to the next table and worked on the chairs surrounding it, Kuroo trailing behind. Both of you worked in silence for a while before Kuroo chuckled softly.

“What?” You raised an eyebrow to him.

“Nothing.”

“What is it, Kuroo?” 

“I said it was nothing.”

“I know it’s nothing when you look like that.”

“Like what?” Kuroo chuckled.

“That! I can’t explain it but I know there’s something you want to say when you make that face.”

“You know me so well, huh.” Kuroo smirked. “I just suddenly remembered that day when we took a boat out to enjoy the sun. Then you insisted on rowing us back to the shore.” He looked at you from his peripheral vision, gauging your expression. “Being the gentleman I was, I told you that we should split the work at least 50/50. You also taught me then how to row the boat. You insisted we sit facing opposite sides and just row. I knew what was about to happen, but I just let you.”

“You knew?” You asked, disbelievingly. “You knew that we’d just be rowing around in circles? Why didn’t you tell me?” You smacked his arm while he just laughed.

“Because you insisted! You were so determined to help so I let you.” Kuroo took the risk and pinched your cheek. “It took you a while to realize that we were going in circles. I could’ve sworn I was about to get seasick.”

You blushed at the memory. Looking away from him, you huffed out. You remembered the memory very clearly. You were so insistent then about how you wanted everything to be equal between the two of you. You didn’t have that much knowledge about boats but you’ve watched enough movies and cartoons to know how to row. Bend forward and lean back; basic knowledge really. 

You thought that you both were doing a pretty good job. You had imagined that the two of you were part of a dragonnboat team, rowing in sync to get to your destination. Kuroo was laughing then, and you thought that it was because he was enjoying your time together. Apparently, he was laughing at you.

“Aww, don’t be like that chibi-chan. You were adorable then as you are now.” The nickname struck something in you. That was what he called you in the duration of your whirlwind romance. When he first called you that, he was teasing. But as the time went on, it was used as a term of endearment; just like now. 

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry for bringing it up. But you have to admit, it was funny.” He smiled wide and you couldn’t help but return the gesture. You even let out a small chuckle.

“Yeah, I guess so.” You giggled once more. He laughed softly and gazed into your eyes. He liked this. No vicious stares and shouting. He couldn’t help himself as he lifted a finger to try and brush at your cheek. There wasn’t a stray hair on your face; he just wanted to touch you.

Your smile slowly disappeared as you gazed at him. His eyes looked soft and his smile made your stomach flutter. Kuroo visibly gulped down and he seemed to have held his breath. He tentatively cupped your cheek, waiting for you to pull away and smack his hand; but you didn’t. He, then, leaned in and pulled you closer. You didn’t object and did the same. 

You averted your eyes from his hypnotizing stare and focused on his lips—which was also a bad idea. The need to be closer got stronger. Bracing yourself from the impact, you shut your eyes tightly and Kuroo took this as a sign to continue.

The moment your lips touched, a jolt of electricity and an eerie chill swarmed your senses. Kuroo’s lips felt new and familiar at the same time. They were a bit chapped—yours probably were, too—but they tasted like heaven. You involuntarily sighed and placed a hand on his chest. Feeling him smile against your lips, he pulled you even closer and pressed his lips harder against yours. He hummed in satisfaction and the sound made your heart race. Kuroo pulled away  just to tilt his head in a better angle and came down on you again. 

Several red flags and alarms suddenly went off in your head. What the hell were you doing? He’s a married man for fuck’s sake! You’re supposed to be mad at him. He lied to you. He toyed with your feelings. And he’s doing it again, right now. How dare he kiss you when he’s got a wife back home? 

Gathering all your will, you pushed at his chest harshly. Blinded by the thought of falling for him like a fool, your body reacted on its own and you slapped him across his cheek. It wasn’t that strong but it was enough to make his cheek turn pink. Kuroo clutched his face and when he looked at you, you were already crying.

“I fucking hate you.” You wiped your tears furiously with your forearm. You couldn’t believe yourself. You had let Kuroo win again. It was obvious that you still loved this man who was in front of you but that was not an excuse to kiss him. You will not let yourself be that kind of woman. 

“Chibi-chan, I’m—”

“Don’t call me that. Don’t even say my name. Just…,” A choked sob came out of your lips and you slapped a hand to your mouth. You felt defeated. Kuroo reached out a hand to you but you already turned the other way and ran. 

—

"Minoru." Maiko had gone to her fiance who was readying a cart of decorations to take up to the church on the top of the hill they were currently on the foot on.

"Maiko-chan! Shouldn't you be getting ready?" Noticing the distress in her eyes, he held her by the shoulders, brushing away a few strands of her hair. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"I've done…something completely insane." She choked out as tears ran down her face. Minoru looked around and pulled her away from prying eyes, into a semi-secluded area.

"Okay. Tell me what happened." 

"All my dads are here fear our wedding, and they all think they're giving me away."

"All your what?"

"I read okaa-san's diary, and I have three possible fathers."

"But how are they here now?"

"I invited them." Maiko gulped. "I thought that I'd know my dad right away, but I didn't. I have no idea. And now, okaa-san is going to kill me, and they're gonna hate me, and you—"

"Hold on for a second." Minoru raised his hand to cut her off. "You invited these guys and didn't tell me?"

Maiko shook her head from side to side, slowly. "No, I didn't because I know you'd try to stop me. I—"

"Is this what this," he stretched out his arms, "Whole big white wedding is about? You finding your dad?"

"No. No, Minoru I—"

"And to think I wanted to just take a boat to the mainland with a couple of witnesses but you insisted in this wedding just so you could play house?" Minoru's voice was getting louder and angrier.

Maiko tried explaining further. "It's about knowing who I am and I wanted to get married knowing who I am."

"That doesn't come from finding your father." He pointed a finger to her. "That comes from finding yourself." Maiko was shocked at the weight of his words. "And to think that I was travelling to find myself but I put everything on hold for you. Because I loved you and I wanted what you wanted." He shrugged his shoulders and ran a hand down his face. "Now, I don't know." He turned and started walking away. He needed to clear his head. 

"You don't know if you love me?" She called after him.

"Of course I love you! I just wished you'd told me." He huffed out. He turned away again and bumped into Kuroo who looked slightly out of breath. Minoru already had a hunch that this guy was one of Maiko's dads. He doesn't want to deal with any of it for now so he just shook his head and left. 

Kuroo noticed the sour look on his face and with just one glance at Maiko's red and teary-eyed face, he knew he had walked in on an argument.

"Maiko." He approached her. "I wanted to have a talk with you."

"Not now, Kuroo-san." She side-stepped him but Kuroo followed.

"Yes, now, Maiko. I'm supposed to be giving you away and how can I when I know you're not really gonna be happy?" Maiko just scoffed at his comment.

"I've heard all of this from my mother and I think she knows me better than you do."

"Okay, you're right." Kuroo approached her. "All I'm saying is, I've already done the big white wedding thing, and believe me, it doesn't always and in 'happy ever after.'"

"That's you!" She couldn't help but burst. "That's not me. Okay? I love Minoru more than anything in the world! And—, " she frustratingly covered her face and tried her best to calm down. She looked at Kuroo who had an unreadable expression on his face. "Did you feel that way before you got married?"

"No." Kuroo answered instantly. His marriage to Alisa was like a business transaction. Kuroo had thought that it only happened in movies but life imitated art, he guessed. They were arranged to be married due to business. And even though he tried taking control of his own destiny, fate was just not in his favor.

Maiko rolled his eyes at him, not really satisfied with his answer and left. Kuroo didn't bother to follow her anymore as he knows he's in no place to tell her what to do.

tags: @yikes-buddy​ / @ushi-please​ / @melodiamore​ / @akaashi-todorki​ / @honeymoneyy​ / @minty-mangos-world / @ochabby​ / @paettonissahotcheeto / @chrisrue15​ / @cottage-babe2​ / @tsukkx​ / @yashinosakura​ / @coconut-dreamz​ / @roseestuosity​ / @youstydiaa​ / @shiningstar-byulxx​ / @mkkhaikyuu​ / @waywardtrashfam​ / @otaku-fangirlse​ / @juni-multifandom / @voids-universe​ / @chimsblogg​ / @1-800-imagine​ / @awkward-bard​ 

a/n: aaaaaaaaand chapter 9 is here! OMG i am so sorry for the long wait. but don’t worry, i’m actually just finishing chapter 10 right now. it will be posted in maybe an hour or so. and then it’s the end! thank you all for sticking around! i love you all!