#and they were not even two metres away from me. in the same tent

[shittywriterbrain]

WHO UP GETTING "is that a boy or a girl"'D BY YOUR PEERS

[whispers-of-masser]

Poor Form

✧ Nebarra x human!LDB, ft. Xelzaz & Khash ✧ Fluff, maybe angst (if you squint), slow-burn with tension; 2k+ word count ✧ Mentions of blood, (poorly written) fantasy violence ♫ "Ritual" - AWAY, Echos ✒ @dalishthunder come take responsibility for this

It was the grey hour when you woke, the quiet lull between full night and the oncoming dawn. From where you lay in the tent, the only sounds you could hear were the steady breaths of your companions, the breeze rustling by outside, and the lone call of a bird, faint and dim in the distance.

Slowly, you sat up, grimacing at your sore neck and shoulders – though you had long since grown accustomed to sleeping on the ground, that didn't mean you, or your body, appreciated it. You'd have to look into getting some bed cots instead. Until then, though...

At least we stay warm through the night. The oiled leather tent kept out most of the wind, and the beasts you'd felled along the journey had long since become the bedding everyone slept on.

A sudden snore drew your attention to where Khash lay, bundled in her sleeping bag beside you, red eyes shut tight and jaw slightly parted, her sharp little teeth on display. Across from her was Xelzaz, sleeping quietly on his side with his back turned towards you; you could just make out the lump of his tail beneath the blankets. And next to him...

...was an empty bed roll, the fur still fluffed, apparently untouched through the night.

Frowning, you pushed back the blankets, habitually reaching for your sword as you rose – just in case, always just in case – and, taking care not to wake Khash, crawled quietly out of the tent.

The morning had teeth. You felt it the moment you stepped outside, the cold biting into your bare arms, gnawing through the fabric of your tunic and raising goosebumps across your skin. Your breath plumed white amidst the grey, and the dirt underfoot was cold and hard; not even the morning dew had loosened it. You found yourself wanting retreat back into the tent and burrow under your furs once more, pulling them all the way over your head and falling asleep beneath their warmth. Any other morning, you might have done just that. But...

The empty, untouched bedroll.

You squinted into the mist, eyes searching, searching... there. A figure, seated on a rock several metres away, smudged and blurred in the gloom, but glinting a familiar gold.

As you lowered your sword, a sigh slipped from your lips, drawn from some strange mix of frustration, concern, and relief.

"...How long have you been out here, Nebarra?"

"Morning to you too, guar-face," the elf drawled, and though he didn't rise, his helmeted head turned towards you. A thin layer of condensation covered the metal, droplets falling at his movement; his bangs, escaping through the visor, were damp and plastered to his helm. "And all night, to answer your question. Somebody has to keep watch."

"Obviously. But you volunteered for the first shift last night." Frowning, you looked him up and down, not bothering to mask your concerned displeasure. "Why didn't you wake me or Xelzaz? We could have relieved you. We were supposed to relieve you."

"Oh yes, a human and a lizard! I'm certain I'd feel very safe with you two on watch. Your species' eyesight is so much better than an Altmer's, after all."

Your frown deepened, brow furrowing as you stared him down. It was too early in the morning for his snark.

Wordlessly, you brought up your sword and levelled it at his throat. "I can see that gap in your armor just fine. I could kill you right now – and the same goes for whatever may have come up on us in the night."

Nebarra gave a disdainful snort, gloved hand clamping down on your blade and giving a sharp tug. Unprepared, reflexes still sluggish from sleep, you stumbled a whole two steps forward before managing to check yourself.

"Poor form," the elf sneered. "You won't be killing anything like that."

Your nostrils flared, a dozen retorts surging to your lips, but you held them all in.

He's right, and you both know it.

"I wasn't ready", "I'm still waking up", "I wasn't serious" – excuses that could get you, and maybe the others, killed. How long had Nebarra seen this in you? Why was he only mentioning it now? Why hadn't you realised it on your own, that despite your confidence, your skills, your strength – you were still very much mortal? And when had that confidence become something more dangerous – arrogance?

"...What?" Nebarra asked suddenly, drawing you from your reverie. "You have that expression again. The one where you're about to do something stupid."

"Spar with me."

"Terrible idea, absolu... wait. What?"

"Spar with me," you repeated, staring into the black of his visor. "I'm getting rusty, fighting nothing but bandits and mindless undead. This just proved it."

Nebarra was silent for a beat, his head tilting to the side. Something about the motion reminded you of a bird; the eagle-shaped helm only added to the effect. You waited patiently for his answer, wondering what exactly he had to consider –

Metal, arcing toward your sword arm.

You barely managed a dodge and a weak parry with the flat of your blade – you'd been holding it low, unready. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Clearly, Nebarra was done thinking – the two of you were sparring now.

Fair enough. Enemies wouldn't be so polite as to give you time to gear up, either. And now, for once, the odds weren't in your favour: a fully-armoured Altmer veteran with decades of experience, versus you, young, disoriented, and unarmored, only a single blade in hand.

It was thrilling.

You sidestepped another swing of Nebarra's blade – only to connect with it a moment later, coming out of the feint you had failed to read.

Sharp, stinging pain. Scarlet, dripping from your arm.

He was trying to hurt you. And you were giving him ample opportunity.

You needed to ground yourself, regain your rhythm – something you couldn't do without an opening, and Nebarra wasn't giving you any.

A glint of metal on the left – block, step back. Movement overhead, an oncoming blow – raise your sword, throw your weight behind it, disrupt his momentum.

At least, you tried. Fully armoured as he was, Nebarra had an extra thousand angaids of weight behind his swing, if not more. The sheer force of his blow knock your sword out of your hands, sending you staggering back. But the grass underfoot was slick with the morning's dew, and you were moving too fast, too unsteadily. Before you knew it, your back was colliding with the ground, and all you could see was grey sky overhead – and a golden sword coming down.

Careless.

But there was still a chance.

Contorting violently, you grabbed Nebarra's arm as the blade sailed by, nicking your face as it passed. You didn't let go of his arm just yet, though. Instead, you pulled, leveraging your weight against his, abdomen taut as you used him to haul yourself upright. Nebarra, clearly not expecting such a move, found himself betrayed by his own momentum, drawing him forward and down, aided by your weight. Gravity took care of the rest, and he crashed towards the earth, twisting even as he fell to avoid face-planting into the ground.

As he struggled to right himself, you rushed to retrieve your sword; Nebarra was already rising by the time you turned back to him.

"No you don't," you growled, charging the mer, sword raised.

His hand shot out, a ward rippling to life, though it buckled slightly under your sword's impact. Nebarra staggered, his half-risen stance precarious, unbalanced.

Now. Now. Now.

Once, twice, thrice more your sword glanced off the ward – and on the fourth blow, it shattered, leaving the Altmer open to your assault.

Metal clanged as you brought your sword down, colliding with his gauntlet as he struggled to block with it, not given enough time to raise his own sword in defense. You let the blade slide off, intending to follow up with its momentum, but Nebarra didn't give you a chance. The moment the sword glanced off his gauntlet, he lunged, catching you in the abdomen and bringing the both of you to the ground.

The tussle that followed was a blur.

His sword arcing down, yours blocking. Hilts catching, blades flying, yanked out of your grasp and his.

Panted breaths, heaving chests, grappling and rolling across the grass.

A glint caught your eye – your sword and Nebarra's, just within reach.

He saw it too, the both of you reaching out in unison for your weapons, desperate to be faster than the other.

Leather-bound metal brushed against your palm – the hilt. Your hand closed around it, drawing it in close. Brought it swiftly upwards, blade against Nebarra's neck.

At its touch, he froze – and so did you. Because resting against your own neck, biting into the tender flesh, was the edge of Nebarra's blade.

Stalemate.

Ears ringing, heart racing, you shift your gaze from the sword to the one holding it.

Hunched over and straddling you, a leg to either side of your waist, there was hardly any distance between your bodies. The beak of his helm was close enough to brush your nose; your breath fogged on the metal. His gasping breaths may has well have been your own – you could feel them, swift and hot, slipping through the gold feathers that covered his face, carrying the faint scent of wine.

Of course, he'd been drinking. It had probably kept him warm through the night – and he'd still managed to keep you off-balanced for most of the fight.

You were in worse shape than you'd thought.

That, or... maybe Nebarra was better than he'd ever let on.

"...Tonight," you breathed, staring up at him. "Let's... spar again tonight."

Nebarra grunted; you could hear the sound echo faintly in his helmet. "Fine. Don't expect me to go easy on you."

A smile tugged at your mouth – you could feel your lips crack and stretch at the motion, dried out in the cold; you gave them a brief lick before answering. "What, and this was?"

Another affirmative grunt. "I'll be sober by tonight. Unfortunately."

You snorted, then fell silent once more. With your eyes, you found yourself tracing the curves of his helm, pausing at the sight of his bangs peeking through, dark and tangled threads of gold. Something about them was like an itch you couldn't scratch, and you had the sudden urge to brush them aside, or at least tuck them back into his helm.

As your gaze drifted upward, toward the visor, a glint in its shadows caught your eye. Again, you paused, staring intently into the dark.

A reflective sheen, a gleam of crimson –

"Are you done breathing on one another, yet?"

Xelzaz's voice shattered your focus, and both you and Nebarra snapped your heads toward the sound.

The Argonian stood just outside the tent, arms crossed, head bare of its usual hood, scales shimmering in the pale light. Beside him was Khash, a shadowy smudge in the mist; her wide red eyes seemed to float amidst the grey.

"Good morning," you said stupidly, even as Nebarra scrambled to get off you.

"Why were you fighting?" Khash asked. "Did something happen?"

"For your – obviously necessary – information," Nebarra sniffed, dusting off his armour, "we were sparring. And you had better get used to it. Our dear Dragonborn and I will continue to do so, apparently, starting today."

As you sat up, you distinctly heard Xelzaz mutter, "By the Hist." When he turned his head to you once more, there was something incredibly deadpan about his gaze, an unspoken, "Really?" in his eyes.

"What?" you mouthed back, blinking at him in confusion. He only shook his head, and have no answer.

"Right... Well, let's get the fire going again, and I'll see about getting us all breakfast."

At that, Khash's gaze snapped towards him. "Ohh, Xelzaz, can I have some Hackle-lo with it?"

"Khash, you've eaten almost my whole stock."

"Oh..."

"...I'll see if I can't spare a few more."

"Yay! Heh."

"Horker stew for you, Nebarra?"

"I'm too tired to say no... but I'll watch you every moment of its making."

"Yes, yes, as usual. And what of you, friend?" Xelzaz turned towards you, and for a moment, you couldn't answer him – you'd been too distracted watching the scene unfold, a smile on your face.

"Ah... it doesn't matter to me, I suppose. Surprise me."

And so, thirty minutes later, as the sun climbed through the sky and burned away the mist, breakfast was served.

But for some strange reason, all throughout the meal, you found your gaze drawn... repeatedly...

...to Nebarra.

[wizkiddx]

supercluster

this is my entry for @hollandsrecs 'toms birthday fanfic fest' event - go check it out!!! I know its a early but im v bored so have it now. also im acc kinda really proud of this one, any feedback would be v appreciated 🤍

the prompt was: 'you and tom are best friends and you tell him that you love him on his birthday'

summary: its toms birthday but he has a few things to get off his chest and into the night sky, y/n joins in with a bit of a revelation too

best friends -> lovers

warnings: mentions of alcohol, bit angsty but promise ends all fluffy and a shit tonne of dialogue

wc: 3.5k ishhh

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Everything got a little too wild and stuffy in the living area, Haz and Harry screaming sweet caroline, whilst Greg (Tom’s stunt man) was pouring *another* round of shots. The sweatiness and clamminess of the room meant Y/n took a moment to escape, sliding out the double doors, and closing them softly behind her to ensure no one would notice her little escape. Something about the midnight air, the slightly dewy smell of the neighbouring fields, felt like it was refreshing Y/n from the inside out. When she turned around, back facing the fancy rented house, she was slightly shocked by Tom standing in the garden. It was his birthday party after all. In all honesty, Y/n felt a bit guilty she hadn’t noticed he wasn’t in the thick of it with his brothers and castmates.

His silhouette was set against the clear night sky, the stars extra prominent this evening and the moon casting a soft glow off the left side of his face, exaggerating the natural contours of his jawline and cheekbones. Clearly, he was enraptured by the sky, staring up at it with a thoughtful look on his face.

And Y/n recognised that look instantly; she knew what he was doing.

In fact, he had taught her to do precisely the same thing. As kids, the Hollands, Y/n’s family and another two families from the local area all went camping together. It was an annual event, ‘the Kingston collective camping adventure’ as Dom had named it. Y/n couldn’t remember a year when they hadn’t gone actually - it was that much of a tradition.

One year, though, when she and Tom were about 9, her mothers’ due date coincided with the camping dates. So, sensibly, the decision had been made that Y/n and her brother would just be looked after by the Hollands - whilst her mum and dad were safely tucked up in bed at home, awaiting the arrival of her littlest brother.

Y/n, her brother Alex, and Tom were all sharing a tent, and it must’ve been at least midnight that Tom was awoken by shuffling and zipping up of the tent. He’d realised she was gone through sleepy eyes and, without a second thought, went to go find her. Sure enough, she wasn’t far away, not even 50 metres from the tent, crouched on the grass. Immediately Tom’s presence had been noticed, making Y/m quickly snivel and wipe her face.

“Are you upset?”

“Go away Tom.” The comment didn’t do a lot, though; instead, 9-year-old Tom had planted himself down next to her - his pyjamas getting wet on the moist grass floor.

“Are you missing Auntie Sarah and Uncle Mike?” In the same way that Y/n called Nikki and Dom auntie and uncle, the Holland boys mirrored the nicknames for her parents. Y/n replied with a long sigh before hiccuping, failing to control the stream of tears. Yes, he was right - this was her first night away from her parents- but she wasn't about to spill her heart out to the 'stupid boy' who had stolen one of her marshmallows that evening. Tom’s little brown eyes swelled, looking slightly terrified and out of his depth, whilst with all his 9 years of wisdom, trying to come up with an answer.

“Do you want to play football to forget about it?”

Unsurprisingly Y/n shook her head violently. Tom cursed inwardly at himself for saying the wrong thing, apparently football wasn't the answer to everything. The two children went back to silence until Tom had the metaphorical light bulb moment. “My mum told me something for when I got to sleepovers? Look!” He grabbed Y/n’s little hand, extending it upwards towards the night sky.

“No matter where you are, you’re all looking at the same stars too, right?”

Tom jumped a little before looking over his shoulder and recognising Y/n with the softest smile that grew across his face. Y/n slowly walked to his side, arms crossed over her chest to try and keep the cold at bay, joining Tom in staring up at the starry expanse.

“How do you always know?” Tom spoke in a breathy chuckle, shaking his head slightly. It was true, she did always know - but his question was somewhat irrelevant. They'd spent most their childhood together, they were as easy to read as a children’s book to each other.

“Missing home?”

“Sort of, I got my own slice of home with the boys and-and you but… pads, mum dad yeh, feel like on your birthday your always supposed to see your family.”

Although Harry, Harrison, Sam and Y/n had managed to fly out to surprise Tom on his birthday- prior commitments meant his parents and youngest brother hadn’t been able to make it. They four arrived yesterday, greeted by a very shocked and pretty emotional Tom - who had clearly been missing the sense of home somewhat. He’d been away shooting a film, then straight away launching into press for the next spiderman movie. It had been a long while since he’d been in London - half a year in fact.

This time too, he’d been away without a single family member or friend - that was another truth he’d learnt about growing up. Your friends and family, they all get lives of their own. Tom used to be a trailblazer, the first to get a job, the one everyone was super proud of. They still were, of course, but didn’t dote on him in quite the same way - everyone had their own shit to deal with. It was yet another reason Tom wasn’t welcoming his birthday as much as he usually would.

“Your parents did always spoil you rotten.”

“They spoilt you worst and you’re not technically their kid.” Y/n rolled her eyes, even if it might slightly true - muttering a ‘touche’ at the brown-haired boy next to her. Their families had always been close; naturally the adults seemed to gravitate more to the kids that weren’t their own. The ones who you could ‘give back’ at the end of the day. It just so happened Nikki and Dom had always loved having Y/n around, maybe a bit more than anyone else.

“Have you had a good birthday then? You should be in there with Greg pouring that shitty vodka down your throat.” Y/n questioned, whilst shrugging back toward the house, the dull thump of Jacob's playlist just audible. Still, both stared upwards, standing close enough that their upper arms were both pressed up against each other. She expected a jovial answer, but even from his tone, it was evident there was something up. He sounded…weary?

“I’m bloody glad you all came...don’t get me wrong, I love Z and Jacob and everyone but….”

“Shitty week?”

“Shitty birthday week of promo and press.” Tom scathed, and Y/n nodded. Even if she couldn’t understand what was so bad about press, she knew that Tom hated it passionately. And in the same way, he loved all his castmates dearly, but they hadn’t known him his whole life. They didn’t understand why he did every little thing; their values lay just that bit apart. It just wasn’t the same as being surrounded with his family - you and Harrison adopted Hollands too.

“I just feel like I’ve spent all week trapped in a room answering the most stupid, irrelevant and inconsequential questions... Everything’s just so surface level and fake and, and I-“He cut himself off, for the first time meeting Y/n’s eyes. In all honesty, Tom got a bit caught up in the stars reflecting off her piercing y/e/c eyes before changing tack.

“Will you do me a favour?”

This wasn’t spoken with the normal Tom tone. It wasn’t joking or jovial; it wasn’t an ‘off the tongue’ thing. This was spoken with such seriousness and gravitas coming from his deep voice that Y/n replied equally truthfully.

“Always T, you know that.”

“Will you please ask me a personal and serious and deep question?”

She got where he was coming from too.

Clearly, even though the evening was supposed to be a light piss up in celebration, it had instead unearthed some darker thoughts that Tom had been harbouring away. Perhaps he never even realised he needed such seriousness, or perhaps with his castmates he hadn’t felt comfortable exposing himself like that. Either way, Y/n was going to respect him now. It was technically his birthday, too; the clocks had already struck 12 - it was now his day.

It wasn’t tricky to think of one; she’d often wondered the same question of him - never with the opportunity to ask. The question popped into her head again, almost as soon as Tom asked for one.

“Okay…. What’s your deepest regret that makes you feel guilty for feeling because in the grand scheme of things, it minor? Like such a 'first world problem'." What do you regret that’s just completely selfish?”

Tom immediately stiffened, his jaw tensing as he worked through his thoughts in his head. Scared she’d pushed it too far, Y/n averted her gaze back to the sky, chewing her bottom lip slightly. It took a moment, but then she saw Tom turn towards her, in the peripheries of her vision. With a tightly closed-lip smirk on his face he joked “If your gonna ask questions like that, we better sit down.”

And so they did, both sitting crossed legged on the ground, knees brushing against each other. Just on the grass lawn, almost mirroring themselves all those years ago as kids in that camping site. Y/n wondered if she should offer to play football instead - to cheer him up.

“Missing out. I miss out months at a time. Miss out on seeing mum and dad, miss out on the pub quizzes with the boys, miss out seeing you… I mean, I didn’t even know you had a new job until you mentioned it this morning. I miss out on time with nana Tess and all my grandparents, and that’s scary cos… well, every time I go, it could be the last time… I don’t know, I just… I get so much, get to travel, to see the world, but… sometimes it feels like I’m sacrificing the foundations. And without the foundations….”

“The walls come crumbling down.” Y/n finished off his sentence quietly, barely whispering the words - but from Tom’s nod of agreement, it seemed like she’d hit the nail on the head. There was silence for a beat till Y/n whispered to him.

“Well, happy birthday to you” Trying to bring the mood up a little, she bumped his shoulder, and Tom chuckled breathily.

“Seriously! This is helping me out. I-I just need to get everything out and start my 25th year fresh.”

“Hey, if that’s all you want, I’m getting a refund on my present- we can just get deep and interview each other.”

“I’m game, except I’m keeping the present too.”

“Just because it’s your birthday and I’m a bit tipsy, I’ll allow it.”

“Okay, well then, Y/n L/n”, He spoke formally, leaning in closer and making her giggle a little. “What’s your biggest regret?”

“Honestly?” Tom just repeated her in reply, but this time it was a statement.

"Honestly."

He really was going deep too. No holding back now. Y/n sucked on her cheek before replying. “Not travelling with you when we were 19… I was just so determined to get to uni and start grown-up life, but… well, grown-up life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I should’ve tried to stay a kid longer, messing about on your film sets and pretending it was work. I think I would’ve learnt more from seeing the world with you.”

“Well, I am very knowledgable.”

“Shut up, you drop out- who didn't know what a drag race was.” She wasn’t wrong, and whilst yes, he had dropped out to be a film star - he was still a dropout. (with exceptionally poor knowledge of RuPaul) He scowled, then leaning back on his hands, so he was half reclined on the grass as Y/n thought of her next question.

“Whats your biggest worry?”

“Easy.” He chuffed, making Y/n furrow her brows at him. Clearly, he’d already thought of this. “That I finally settle down with the love of my life, and then the fans or press or paps ruin it.”

It made sense; every time Tom had gone public with a relationship, it had ended in a minor car crash. Typically it was also the girl who got hurt; she was the ‘victim’ in everything. Though Y/n had seen first hand the effect it had had on Tom - he never made it out damage-free.

“You make it sound like you’ve already got this dream girl queued and waiting.”

“I wish”, Tom sighed, as Y/n took the opportunity to completely lie down on the grass, staring up at the dark abyss. She’d always loved the stars and had become a bit of a geek on them as they’d grown up too- and maybe it was all down to Tom on that camping trip. Following suit, Tom copied her, his head resting on his hands that were crossed behind his head, taking in the moment of pure peace as they lay on the grass.

“You see that bright one there?” Pointing up, Y/n shimmied closer to him so that he definitely saw the same thing as her. “It’s actually not one. Look closer.” Humming, Tom shifted a bit closer, so her shoulder slotted under the side of his body just the teeniest bit. It meant he could follow her direction and squinted up at the little patch of the sky.

“ 5…maybe 6? What is it?”

“The pliedes supercluster…. basically a big group of stars that all were born from the same place- the same stellar nursery.”

“But they’re moving now?” She hummed in confirmation to his question, briefly glancing at the way his eyes were fixed on the sky. For the first time he seemed genuinely interested in hearing her stories of the stars. It usually was an eye roll and ‘you’re so lame’.

“They’re called the sibling stars… like everything in life, as they get older they drift apart but…. but to us down here? They’ll always be associated together because they have a gravitational effect on each other. They’ll always have their thing tying them together. Like an invisible string.”

“Sounds like you’re being metaphorical.” Tom chuckled, expecting a taunt back but receiving nothing except a gentle agreement.

“Theres also actually 7. The last one people can only sometimes see… it’s a pulsing star, so comes and goes.”

“They do that?”

“Yeh, and no matter what… if you can see it or not, it’s always there. Always having an impact on its family.”

Biting his lower lip slightly, Tom repositioned his head slightly, Y/n’s words taking time to be fully absorbed. He was sure she was making parallels to him. Barely there, appearing and disappearing, but always a part of the family.

“You are being metaphorical.”

“Maybe.” She whispered shortly. “Metaphors depend on who’s listening and if they draw parallels to their own life. It’s subjective. You can’t tell anyone what is and isn’t metaphor…. it takes the beauty out of it.”

“Right, sure... But if you were…. me, harry, Sam, pads, you, Haz, Tuwaine? That the 7?” Y/n held back the little smile at his words. Tom wasn’t as ‘head in the clouds’ as she was- he was literal. Also, he was bloody stubborn when he wanted to be.

“I wasn’t being metaphorical T.” He knew she was lying. She knew that he knew. But it still helped him, made him feel a bit better. That he was always, in some way, having some effect... lives always intertwined with the people he cared about the most.

“Tell me another story about another star.”

Time for the rest of the night kind of got lost. The two young adults just lay on the grass, entirely in their own little world, using each others body heat to keep themselves warm through the early hours. Neither felt remotely tired, Y/n whispering her little stories of both the myths and science of the old stars, pointing out each planet. Meanwhile, Tom listened in awe, for once not taking the mick out of her incredibly geeky hobby. Instead, he found himself getting fascinated by all the little intricacies Y/n was so passionate about.

It was only when the stars began to fade, as orangey-red hue started to seep up from the horizon the either noticed the time. It was now the morning of the next day, the house long since had turned silent behind them - presumably, everyone finally passing out shit faced.

As the stars’ light was overtaken by the rising sun, Y/n ran out of stories; the two settled into silence - neither quite ready to go to bed yet.

“It’s still my turn,” Tom spoke into the sky before pivoting his head to look Y/n in the eye, seeing the confusion in her furrowed brows. “It’s my question to ask. My turn.”

“Aren’t you sick of my voice yet?” There was absolutely no reason that they were both whispering. It wasn’t like anyone was trying to listen or that they’d disturb anyone else my talking normally. But it was nicer that way. It felt calming... intimate even.

“One more. And then you get one more… and then we really should probably go to bed.” He didn’t want the night to end; he was immensely enjoying this weird grey time between being 25 and 26. But it was cold, Tom could tell Y/n had started to feel it a little more. To be fair, she was only in a floral day dress, not much in the way of warmth. With a hum of agreement, Y/n smiled lightly at him, urging his question.

“Whats the biggest secret you’ve kept from me?”

With a bit of a scoff, Y/n sighed and closed her eyes, trying to draw some strength she wasn’t sure she had. It wasn’t like she needed to wrack her brains to come up with it - she knew instantly. Almost painfully too.

“Uhm, honestly?” Now even more intrigued, Tom nodded, using his foot for nudge hers - encouraging her to speak. “Probably how much you mean to me.”

“Oh” He couldn’t help it; the sound just slipped out his mouth without checking with his brain first. That answer had just been so unexpected. He had honestly been thinking that it would be something about how ‘fame had changed him’. After hearing that, Y/n turned her head up the sky again, feeling like her cheeks were on fire with embarrassed heat. Tom knew he had fucked up.

“No, I… I didn’t mean- just just ask me too.” With a sigh, Y/n waved off his stumbled answer as he tried to cover himself.

“This is stup-“

“Ask me!” For the first time in 5 hours, Tom spoke at an normal volume - but it felt painfully loud, like a shout.

“What’s the biggest secret you kept from me?” Her tone was defeated, but nevertheless, he answered.

“How upset I was when you didn’t come when we were 19. I got why, but it was still annoying. Felt like you were picking uni friends over me-“ At this point on any other evening, Y/n would have interjected and argued. None of this situation was normal, though, so she chose to hear him out. “- I know it’s stupid, but…. I guess that’s how much you meant an-and still mean to me too.”

There was silence for a couple minutes, waiting whilst the sun started to peep over the horizon, the lone witness to an otherwise very private conversation. That was until Y/n barely spoke, more like mouthed 2 simple words.

“I lied.” The intensity of the way Tom stared at her made Y/n wish that the sun hadn’t been so bright, that they were back in the darkness that hid her face more. “Biggest lie I’ve told you … that I’m not in love with you.”

Y/n didn’t see because she couldn’t face looking at him, but Tom’s face erupted into the most prominent, toothiest smile. Whilst Tom was enjoying the moment of being absolutely ecstatic, Y/n was waiting for a response- feeling her world come crashing in. That she'd just destroyed one of the most important friendships in her life too.

But then he said the opposite of what she thought he would.

“I lied too.”

That had her attention, whipping her head toward him as Tom rolled onto his side on the lawn, balancing with his head resting on one hand. “I lied that I’ve not been completely under your spell since we were kids at that campsite, and you were homesick.”

Y/n’s heart was literally in her mouth, brain overwhelmed but one overriding thought oh so bloody clear.

She’d lost control of everything, arching up to mirror Tom. Using one hand, she reached out to cup Tom’s jaw, to which he instinctively leant toward - until their lips were mere centimetres apart, hot breath fanning over each other.

Y/n no control as she whispered those 3 words against his lips. No control at how immediately after he pressed his to hers; no control as Tom guided her to roll on top of him, knees either side of his torso as his strong arms wrapped around her back.

Once again, time was lost between the two, only pulling apart when their lungs burned for oxygen.

“For the record, I love you too.” Grinning from ear to ear, Tom used one hand to gently stroke his thumb across her cheek, switching his focus from her left to right eye - in wonder at how the early morning sun reflected from her y/e/c irises. He’d always thought she was beyond beautiful, but when she was this close to him, with the sun rising behind her in such a way - she looked damn ethereal.

“Happy birthday T.” Nodding in agreement, Tom chuckled before finding her lips once again, whispering against them.

“Yeh, happy damn birthday to me.”

~~~~let me know what you think ;) ~~~~~

tagging: @hallecarey1 @hollandfanficlove @crossyourpeter

[4dtk]

a sweet bet (jaehyun)

anon: “Hey can I request innocent school boy Jaehyun with freaky bad girl y/n smut?:)” thx for requesting anon! both jae and y/n are the same age, although are around university ages. you can take it in a way that y/n takes up the dom (altho… she’s not so mean) role in this!

fem pronouns. thank u for the challenge! i don’t write fem doms that often so this was interesting to try out :)

content warnings: a bit of fem dom, sub!jaehyun, vaginal penetration, breeding (I'll never let this damn kink go), implications of pegging/strap-on, praise, like one mention of "brat"

NSFW UNDER CUT, MINORS DNI!

“aw, aren’t you such a darling?” you cooed, backing jaehyun up against the door of the classroom as his head covers most of the window on the door. you peak just over his locks to look at the dwindling number of students, most of them heading to class.

“(y/n)-ssi, i-i don’t think we should be doing this-“ jaehyun gasps when you invade his space, nose an inch from the other as his eyes struggle to focus on something.

“so now you’re backing down?” you tilt your head, challenging him. “not when your friends were betting on whether you could even get within a metre of me?”

“y’know… i don’t mind being used for bets or anything, but when someone accepts it like a champ, i expect them to carry it out like one.”

jaehyun sucks in a breath when your arm snakes around his waist, pulling his hips off the comfort of the door. you can tell he’s enjoying it even if his words say otherwise, hips pushing up to get any form of friction for his growing erection.

“proximity wasn’t your bet, right? you just wanted a piece of this pussy, huh?” jaehyun reacts strongly to your use of such a lewd word, swallowing on nothing and making the mistake of dropping his eyes to your lower half.

he timidly nods, breaths coming out short that all he can focus on is your body heat and the words of his friends resonating in his mind. he was happy to take a chance with the popular chick he shared the english literature major with, already envisioning good money that one of his richer friends promised.

why’d they pick you of all people? he wondered why he even said yes when you so clearly had no problem pinning him down. at least the other chick would take her time and beg to be fucked, presenting him with no problem since he’s had a bit of… knowledge from porn.

now, all jaehyun could compare himself to was prey caught in an unfortunate position by its predator. hell, forget about fucking anyone dumb, if anything, he was the one at your mercy.

“you want this, jeong jaehyun?” you ask nonchalantly, eyes already filled with lust at how easily he obeyed to your movements. a widen of his eyes, a bite of his underlip and a curt nod.

you smiled, “good.”

the next minutes were blurry, clouded by hot breaths and wandering hands. your lips moved against jaehyun’s like a sin, tongue slipping into the others’ mouth while he deepens the kiss as much as he can. you can feel his dick on your thighs; he’s rutting against it like a bitch, hesitant hands travelling over your body as it settles over your breasts.

“you’re a good boy, aren’t you? you don’t need to ask for permission.”

with your arms, you’re flipping the two of you over so you’re concealed from the prying eyes of curious students while jaehyun adapts to the new position. he wastes no time to draw your shirt up and bra down, latching his mouth onto your nipples and swirls them around his tongue.

you hum, palming his hardening cock that has his efforts interrupted by the needy moans he lets out. you struggle to hold your own too, his tongue sucking effortlessly while bucking into your hand. it makes you wet, soaking your underwear that you have such a cute boy at your disposal.

you waste no time to push him down to his knees once he’s done, his big doe eyes staring up at you as his hands linger at the waistband of your pants.

“go on,” you mumble breathlessly, sighing in relief when your underwear separates itself from your leaking cunt in a string of arousal, not missing the surprised noise that the other makes. it’s adorable, the way he experimentally places a finger against your slit, rubbing at it like it’s his first time. you shiver when he slips a finger in, holding onto his shoulders while you lean forward at the immense pleasure.

he could call it his first time, although i’ve definitely done it before, god! i’ve practiced making love to my pillow before finding out who was in it for the bet, he thinks. the ‘done it before’ in question only involved pillows and fleshlights, however, but god, nothing compares to the real thing. nothing compares when he can feel you react to his ministrations, thighs shaking at the way your pussy sucks in his slender finger.

“such a g..good boy- ah! can you go faster for me, jaehyun?” you cover your mouth as fast as you can to muffle your moans, grinding down on a single finger that has your face scrunched up in pleasure. he obeys immediately with a flush to his cheeks, pumping his digit at a speed even you couldn’t go at yourself. you let out a gasp when he inserts a second one without warning.

“shit- fuck!” you mewl when his fingers brush up against your clit, observing that his fingers disappearing and reappearing into you makes for an extremely appealing sight. it seems that jaehyun has the same thought, using his free hand to rub his cock that’s forming a tent in his pants. it’s painful, you can tell by the furrow of his brows, but it only fuels the knot in your stomach further.

it’s so appealing that you cum on the spot in a silent scream. your hips have a mind of their own, riding out the orgasm with quickness as your mouth spews profanities and murmurs of jaehyun’s name.

your head hits the wall in a loud thunk, breath heavy from the satisfying climax.

“you did so well, baby. need my help?”

the other’s frantic nods only makes your smile widen, gesturing for him to stand up before your hands reach forward to peel off his pants and soaked briefs. you turn him around, back against your chest when your hand reaches round to wrap around his shaft.

the immediate obscene sounds fill the room, cock hard and wet with pre-cum that jaehyun quivers at the cold air on his dick and your hasty hand that’s stroking him.

jaehyun is thrashing around in your arms, tears threatening to leak from his eyes when you swipe your thumb over his tip. his cries fill your ears like music and you can feel the crystal clear sensation of his hair digging into neck as well as the juices seeping from your pussy.

“(y/n)-ssi- hah… faster please! faster, faster!” he whimpers, head thrown back onto your shoulder. he’s moving against your hand, desperate to chase his high with mouth parted open and eyes closed, he’s there, he’s there, he feels it.

and then you stop. he whines, hips moving on their own accord to feel everything, anything.

“ah, ah, no- stop that.”

you’re turning jaehyun over again, revelling in his full length that you don’t notice his crimson cheeks and messy hair. his forehead is dotted with sweat and he manages out a cute little plea that has you humming.

“are you gonna fuck me good, now, baby?” you pout, drawing a finger down his neck, to his torso and finally resting on his cock.

the shaky breath that jaehyun releases makes you smirk, twitching from the minimal pressure you’ve used. he nods a second later, licking his lips at the dryness that’s taken over them.

“hah… t-that’s it, baby. oh my god, you’re so big…” you moan when he enters you slowly, relishing in the way your soaked cunt provides some lube as the other groans into your shoulder. your bodies are pressed up together with no space in between, the heat of your pussy already causing him to move his hips needily.

“fuck me with all you got, brat,” you spit out, prompting a particularly harsh thrust that has you jerking forward with eyes shut tight.

for someone so shy, jaehyun’s thrusts hit the spot just right, reaching so deep inside of you that you’re hunched over his person. the groans he’s making out only increases your arousal, and combined with the rush of getting caught, it was almost divine how good he’s fucking you.

it’s so divine that you forget that jaehyun was freezing up under your touch earlier, that you forget you’re supposed to be edging him with your words and hands.

“am i doing good, (y/n)-ssi?” the innocence laced within his voice ignites something inside of you, nodding incoherently that you have to give a few seconds before getting your words out.

“mhm- hm- you’re fucking me so good that i can’t even talk, baby. i think that’s- f..fuck- enough proof for you- ah!”

jaehyun basically preens at the praise, burying his face into your neck with the gentleness of a feather while his hips piston in and out of you contrastingly. the squelching noises fill the room like no other, echoing in the classroom that stretches at least two stories, and you’re so tempted to let your whimpers break free, wanting to hear it in the same space that jaehyun’s fucking you in.

“(y/n)-ssi! (y/n)-ssi, oh fuck, baby-“ the pet name slips from his mouth, his movements consisted more of chasing his orgasm rather than pleasing you, but you don’t mind with the way his breaths hit your neck and your sweat mingles with his. you’re grasping onto his shoulders you hard you’re convinced you’re going to dislocate them.

“more, more, more- i want more, (y/n)-ssi,” jaehyun choked out, fisting at your nipples in between his index and thumb. you tremble at the contact, but your hands don’t show it when you brush away the hair that’s stuck to his forehead. his eyes and nose are red, drool falling from the corners of his mouth.

“you’re doing so good, angel.” he moans with the compliment, tears now fully falling as his eyes screw shut at the way you’re clenching around his cock and the way that his balls slap against your cunt lewdly.

“‘m close, (y/n)! mmhhn-!” he doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence before he’s cumming deep in you, filling you up with his seed. you don’t miss the way his cock throbs inside of you as his cum continues to leak from his cock. in a second, jaehyun fucks the cum back into you, knowing you haven’t came for the second time.

“make me cum like a good boy, jaehyun,” you pant out, playing with your clit as his thrusts become sloppy yet again. he’s cumming again?

you get your answer when you feel another rush of white hot cum stuffed deep into your pussy, filling you to the brim while you reach your own orgasm. your lips let out little pants, while your eyes are fixated on the way jaehyun’s pupils dilate. it’s not long before he pulls out, your juices mixing with his seed which spills out like a bottle without a lid.

it flows down your thighs uncomfortably, but you swipe it up with a finger lingering at the edge of his lips. the other takes your digit with compliance, making a mess and slurping and slobbering all over. it sparks endless ideas in your mind.

“mhm… maybe next time i’ll let you suck on my cock, huh? then i’d fuck you dumb like what you just did to me. whatd’ya say?” the sheepish smile jaehyun gives is all the confirmation you need, even more determined to ruin him silly when he takes two more fingers into his mouth.

he would just have to collect that bet money a hundred times over, because you’d definitely fuck him that many times.

[matsbarzal]

nsfw 18+ #13 with barzal and fluff #2 with him as well :)

nsfw #13. look at the way he looks at you, think he knows i’m fucking you behind his back?

pairing: mat barzal x f!reader word count: 1.1k warning: minors DNI, 18+ fic, mentions of cheating (reader cheats on bf with mat), oral receiving (m), dirty talk, this is legit just smut

It was the same game you played every time you saw him. His eyes would trace your figure, your body swaying to the beat of the music, your mind trying to find itself elsewhere instead of on him. He knew it, he played to it. He knew what made you tick, what mean you yearn for him, the ways to wrap you around his finger and keep your there until you were blissful and content, enough to keep you from getting riled up until the next time.

You loved your boyfriend, with every fibre of your being, you did. He was kind, and generous, and so incredibly loving. But he wasn’t Mat, he was everything that Mat wasn’t, yet Mat was everything you wanted him to be.

The nights you picked were specific, knowing full well Mat would be exactly where you wanted him to be, his eyes watching your every move as you moved yourself around the floor. It was a monthly thing, Mat’s eyes trailing yours as you made your way around his viewing, his eyes focusing on you even when his lips were pressed to the neck of a pretty blonde in a tight skirt.

You were everything he wanted, and everything he couldn’t have whenever he wanted it.

“Playing with fire tonight, aren’t you?” his voice was instantly recognizable, only metres behind you now, the blonde that was in his arms just minutes before now scarce and unable to be seen.

“Didn’t know I was doing anything different tonight, Mr. Barzal,” battling your lashes towards him, you gently pushed your body forward so your palm could lay gently on his chest. Your eyes never lost contact with his, the heat of his body pressing closer to yours with every inch you made yourself move.

“Mr. Barzal, eh? We going full Fifty Shades tonight, babe? Gonna be hard to cover those bruises then,” mewling at the way his lips pressed against the side of your neck, you could barely respond as his hands found themselves pressed against your hips.

Your body moved in sync with the Islanders forward, the beat of the music just egging the two of you on as you moved simultaneously. It took less than an hour for your back to hit the inside of his apartment door, the bottom of your dress already hiked up around your hips as Mat pressed two fingers into you, ripping a load moan from your throat.

“God, you’re absolutely soaked. Fuck, that’s so hot.”

Rolling your eyes at his words, you pushed your head forward to revisit your lips against his, Mat’s fingers finding a steady pace inside of your core as his tongue battled against yours. You could feel the tent in his pants rutting against the skin covered by fabric, his other hand moving down so he could press his thumb against your bundle of nerves, eliciting a whimper from your lips as you pressed yourself closer to his hand.

“So needy for me, baby. You want me to fill you up? Bend you over and push my cock right into your tight little pussy? Maybe pull your hair and ruin this pretty makeup you put on all for me? Is that what you want, baby?”

You could feel him slowing his pace down, expecting a response to fall from your lips. His fingers stopped moving completely when you didn’t answer right away, a mocking pout taking over his lips as he looked at you, your dress rumbled around your hips, your lower body attempting to push itself closer to the man as a pitiful whine fell from your lips.

“Yes, please. Fill me up, Mat. I’ve been such a good girl, I deserve it. Please.”

“Not yet, pretty girl. Get on your knees,” his fingers were pulling out of you, the digits immediately going to his mouth, entering and then leaving with a soft pop as he tasted you.

“God, just like honey.”

Falling to your knees in front of him, Mat did all the work as he unbuckled his pants and pushed them alongside his briefs down, his member springing free. The precum was dripping from the tip, glistening in the dim light of his kitchen. You almost moaned at the sight, almost.

Wasting no time, you used your thumb to gently swipe the little bit of precum around, your hand wrapping itself around the bottom of his cock as your tongue tentatively pressed against the tip. Licking in circles, Mat’s hand found its way into your hair, his grip light as he groaned above, his head tilting back.

Wrapping your lips slowly around the tip, you began to gently bop your head, your hand meeting them in strokes as you began to pick up the pace. Mat’s grip tightening as he began adjusting your rhythm, pushing and pulling you off of his cock, gently fucking your throat as he groaned, his hips stuttering ever so gently every time you used your tongue alongside your lips.

Pulling your hair gently, “Stop… stop. Wanna bend you over.”

Pulling your lips off, you looked up at him with a smirk. You knew your makeup was smudged; your lipstick no longer visible as the mascara streaks made their way down your cheeks.

“Bend over the arm of the couch, wanna see that pretty ass while I fuck you,” obliging with his request, you quickly bent over the arm of the couch, Mat’s hand immediately grabbing for your ass as he kneaded it with his fingers, gently smacking it and smirking from behind you.

You barely had time to think before the head of his cock was pressing against your core, he coated himself in your wetness before sheathing himself inside of you, a loud moan ripping from both of your lips. Not giving you much time to adjust, one hand pressed into your hip as the other wrapped itself in your hair, his hips slamming forward into yours.

“Fuck, Mat,” slapping your ass in response, Mat moved his hand to your front to press against your clit, his thumb rubbing in circular motions as his hips continued slapping against yours.

Not registering what Mat was doing, you felt him shifting his body, his hand dropping your phone that had been previously on the table from when you walked in, in front of you, the screen blaring up at you; a picture of your boyfriend and you presented.

"Look at the way he looks at you, think he knows I’m fucking you behind his back? Fucking this pretty pussy that he thinks is his?"

“Jesus, Mat. You know he doesn’t.”

Biting into the back of your, you could feel the grin attached to his lips. “Good, I don’t mind sharing until your all mine, baby.”

notes: hi!! thank you so much for requesting, your first request was also requested by someone else and has already been posted and is linked under the prompts post. i hope you enjoyed both this and that one <3

[nanasparadise]

Hiya! Can i have either (aged up) Narancia or Abbacchio [you choose!] and with prompt [28, 25, 24, 19, and/or16*] Thx so much luv <3 {*if you wanna really impress us all... us them all ;3}

Hiya love! Sorry for the wait, I’m still quite busy with school, but that should be over soon (hopefully). Please enjoy! <3

“Shadow” Yan! Abbacchio x gender-neutral reader

16. I will protect you from everything.

25. You shouldn’t have tested my limits.

28. You have no idea how much I have been holding myself back for you.

Summary: Abbacchio has been following around for a while. After a rather unfortunate incident, he finally gets closer to you.

TW: toxic relationship, homicide, slight gore, stalking, mentions of retching, angst, intoxication, MATURE AUDIENCE ONLY/MINORS DNI

I do not condone any yandere behaviour in real life.

Word count: 4467

Beta-read by the lovely @dear-yandere

Abbacchio loved watching you from afar. The smile painted across your face gave him purpose, a meaning, in his quite miserable life. Even if it was directed towards your date.

The Italian mobster tried to tell himself he didn’t mind. The intimate chatter as the two of you leaned over the table, the staring into each other’s eyes, his hand brushing over your forearm, his lips dangerously close to yours- Abbacchio suddenly averted his gaze from the window he had been watching you. No, he did care. As much as he wanted to see you happy, he couldn’t help but feel jealousy rising up inside of him, infesting his mind like a parasite. “You have no right to be jealous, Leone,” he reprimanded himself, “they don’t even know your name.” This thought alone put the white-haired man into a state of sulking, making him wish he had a bottle of wine with him to dwell on and drink away the pain.

In the end, Abbacchio could only blame himself. After all, he chose to not approach you, seeing himself unworthy of your presence and affection. Besides, who could truly love him after what he’d done? What he still had been doing? Accepting briberies, being unable to protect his police partner, becoming the very thing he’d sworn he would save the city from, it all took a toll on the young man and his self-esteem. He couldn’t drag you down in his world of crime and bitterness, not wanting to tarnish the very happiness you radiated and he cherished so much.

But seeing you all flustered and bashful because of someone who wasn’t him made Abbacchio reconsider his initial avoidance. The mafioso couldn’t handle the scene unfolding in front of him anymore, resentment boiling inside him. Would it really satisfy him remaining your unknown shadow? On the other hand, could he be so selfish and worm his way into your life, risking your safety and maybe even your happiness? Yes, he loved to observe you from afar, but he would so much more prefer for you to see him, recognise him, touch him. Just like you did with your date. With all these bitter feelings still clinging onto him, Abbacchio turned around to leave this area of the city. But not before stopping by a store to buy a bottle or two of red wine…

Meanwhile, you were blissfully unaware of your shadow’s internal struggle. Instead, you enjoyed the mild evening breeze of Naples hitting gently your face as the sun was slowly setting, giggling like a love-struck teenager with your date while you exited the restaurant. The rendezvous you had spent with the man by your side had passed so fast, his funny stories and dashing charm having made you lose track of the time. The two of you chuckled some more at one of his jokes as you eventually bid farewell. Though before you truly could depart, you took heart and pressed a sweet goodbye kiss onto your date’s mouth. Pleasantly surprised by your action, he leaned into your touch. When you both eventually let go of each other, he offered you a sincere and dazzling smile. “Let’s do this again, alright?”

Despite his better judgment, Abbacchio couldn’t bring himself to walk immediately home after having bought the booze. Instead, he had finished three quarters of the first wine bottle while strolling through Naples. He could feel the slight fuzziness of his intoxication manifesting in his body and mind. Sluggishly, the Italian continued his walk, his steps weighing just as heavy as the thoughts occupying his head. After a while, without noticing, he had stopped in front of your flat. “Are you home by now, Y/N?”, he wondered quietly. He couldn’t see any lights turned on in your apartment (of course he knew where to locate your exact housing after having… observed you for a while), meaning you already slept or you hadn’t returned yet. You couldn’t have possibly gone back to this guy’s place, could you? Bile rose up his oesophagus and his face turned into a dark scowl as Abbacchio dwelled on that thought. His grip around the wine bottle tightened, threatening to break it into pieces. Though before that could happen, the mobster guided the bottle to his lips and let the tart crimson liquid travel down his throat in an attempt to drown his dark musing. How could he let this happen? How could you have already gone this far with that man? Why hadn’t he just reached out to you? If you were to end up with that guy, he wouldn’t be able to look at you again, not without thinking of himself as a failure. Abbacchio harshly squinted his eyes while downing the remaining wine, trying to chase his thoughts away. Maybe, if he was lucky enough, his hangover would be so big the next morning, he would have forgotten about this whole situation.

From a few metres distance, you carefully watched the tall man in front of your apartment complex clinging to his bottle. “Great,” you mumbled exasperatedly, “I definitely needed a drunkard now.” Not only did he seem to be intoxicated, but also potentially dangerous, as you could make out all the muscles under his tight and partially revealing outfit. “Deep breaths, Y/N,” you reminded yourself, attempting to stay calm, “you’re just going to pass him and then rush straight to your flat.” As you tried to make your plan reality, you felt the stare of the stranger glued onto your form. Nervously, you swallowed the gulp of saliva building in your mouth. You nearly reached the front door of the complex as you heard a voice utter your name. No one was around you, except for that man, so it must had been him. But how would he know your name? Deciding that your anxious mind just made that up, you fumbled for your keys. But again, you heard the same voice repeating your name. With a flabbergasted expression, you turned around to meet the stranger’s face. His sharp features were highlighted beautifully under the neon lights of the street you must admit, and his long white hair with a lavender hue almost appeared to glow. Only the bloodshot golden eyes indicated his current pitiful condition.

“Excuse me Sir, do we know each other?”, you eventually asked tentatively. Multiple emotions crossed over his face in a matter of seconds, as if he wasn’t sure he could reply to such a simple question. Little did you know about how hard it actually was for him.

“No,” the stranger managed to spit out an answer, “but we will soon enough.” Incredulous, you tightly knitted your eyebrows together.

“What do you mean?,” you countered, “And how do you- HEY!” Before you managed to say more, the man turned around to leave you on your own. Deciding it was best not following him, you just let him vanish into the darkness of a near alley. “What a creep,” you whispered to yourself, “I just hope he won’t come back.” At last, you entered the complex and made your way to your home, leaving this weird encounter a concern you had to face tomorrow.

Abbacchio couldn’t believe seeing you walk past him as he finally pulled the bottle away from his mouth, previously closed eyes now wide open and fixated on you. Having been so convinced that you were by now in your date’s bed, he didn’t trust his slightly drunk mind to not play tricks on him. But undoubtedly, it was you who tensely rushed to the front door of the building. It pained the gangster to see you stressed out because of his presence, but what else should you think about him? He was just a complete stranger to you and drunk on top of that, a potential threat. A sudden realisation dawned then on Abbacchio. If you weren’t with that guy now, it meant he still had a chance with you, right? He could still become a part of your life and make you forget about that pest’s existence, no? Then, you surely wouldn’t perceive him as a stranger. Maybe as an acquaintance, maybe as a friend, maybe – hopefully – even as a lover. The excitement of a possible future with you made the Italian instinctively whisper out your name, enjoying how it rolled off his tongue. Though he wasn’t the only one who had heard the sound of his voice as you stopped in your tracks for a moment and then proceeded to nervously look for your keys. Offended by your ignorance the man repeated your name, this time louder and with more force. Would you still ignore him? Was he doomed to be your quiet observer, a mere shadow? Not if he could change it. “There’s still a chance.” Finally, you were looking at him, a surprised expression scampering over your face as you truly saw him for the first time. With your lips slightly parted, you stared at his form, interest and wary dancing in your eyes. Did you think he looked attractive? Abbacchio internally smiled at that thought, his heartbeat increasing ever so slightly, hoping it to be true. When you eventually talked to him and asked, if you two knew each other, the Italian felt as if his brain completely stopped working. Of course you knew each other! Well, maybe not you, but he for sure knew you better than anyone else. Though he couldn’t exactly tell you this… “No,” the mobster opted to say instead, “but we will soon enough.” Abbacchio failed to realise that this too sounded creepy... Despite your questions, he promptly made his way into the narrow dark streets of Naples until he disappeared from your view.

And while wandering through these gloomy alleys, Abbacchio noticed the tears gently rolling down his cheeks. Why was he crying? After all, the two of you had finally met. “But under which conditions?”, he lamented. He was so eager to contact you again, to really connect with you. Would you give him that chance? Or would you only remember him as a drunk brute? His tears grew bigger as he continued pondering. “You have no idea how much I have been holding myself back for you, Y/N,” he whispered, voice cracking due to his intense emotions, “I’ve always contended myself with seeing you happy, but I can’t do it anymore. I just want to feel your warmth, want to know that I do deserve you, that I’m not scum…”

Eventually, Abbacchio managed to arrive home, feeling drained out of any energy to continue crying. Instead, he made his way to his bed, not even bothering to change out of his clothes, and closed his eyes until sweet darkness surrounded him, welcoming the young man into a numbing sleep.

•

The next couple days, Abbacchio distanced himself from you. He knew better to pester you after your first encounter, so despite his obsessive need to see you, he left you alone for about two weeks. In the meantime, he made a plan as to how he could approach you again.

You went on with your life. Keeping up with work, entertaining yourself with your hobbies and above all, seeing your date more regularly with whom things worked out more than great. All things considered, you were truly happy, enjoying most moments in your life. The long-haired stranger with the wine bottles had been long forgotten, only an obscure memory in the back of your mind. Call it ignorance or naiveté, but you really wanted to believe he was just some confused drunkard who would leave you alone after having slept off his intoxication.

That was why it hit you double hard when you saw him this Saturday morning in front of your favourite bakery.

Undoubtedly, it was him. He wore the same attire and kept his hair in the same style. Only did he appear to be sober now, his golden eyes radiating in the soft Neapolitan sunlight. No trace of drunkenness was clouding his features this time. “Thank God”, you thought.

Upon noticing your form, Abbacchio slowly approached you. He’d been waiting for half an hour now, hoping you’d get your favourite pastries like you did most weekends, so that he could catch you. An uncharacteristic nervousness spread inside his stomach. He had seen you countless times, but never had he experienced such an intense uneasiness. There you were again, just a couple of steps away from him and yet completely out of his reach, as the wary expression on your face revealed. But the Italian would change your attitude, he was sure of it.

“It seems you remember me from last time”, Abbacchio eventually said, hoping to not come across as shady. He carefully scanned you: the way your eyebrows furrowed together in disbelief, your lips pressed into a thin line, your body slightly leaned away from him. Under different circumstances, he would have deemed your cautious behaviour as adorable, even praised it. But not when it involved him.

“Yes, I remember,” you replied, still wary about the stranger, “and I don’t know if that’s a good thing.” The man was now close to you, too close for your liking. You could see all the details in his face, such as the dark long eyelashes contrasting his light hair and the tint of purple in his irises. Hastily, you moved back a few steps from him.

“I think I owe you an explanation,” the man uttered upon perceiving your reaction, “and an apology as well.”

“I agree”, you answered, trying to not sound too brazen.

Abbacchio sighed deeply, gathering his thoughts. “Quite obviously, I was drunk and landed by your apartment complex by accident.” Well, that wasn’t too much of a lie. “I’ve seen you several times here in this bakery grabbing your pastries, that’s why I know you. During some conversations you had with the baker, I heard your name as well. I’ve never had the courage to approach you. I hope you can forgive my inappropriate behaviour.” The nervousness inside his guts only intensified. Would you believe his explanation? Or would you see right through the lie?

For a couple of moments, you just stood there, eyebrows still knitted together, and pondered on his words. “I don’t remember ever seeing you in the bakery”, you muttered, trying to think of an occasion where you saw the stranger before that incident. Abbacchio slightly gulped at hearing your answer.

“I tend to stick in the shadows,” he replied, wanting to save his cover-up, “I’m not that social, you see.” Oh God, would you really buy that? Did he now ruin his only chance with you?

“Hm,” you hummed absent-mindedly, still mulling over his dubious explanation. Would a guy like him not stick out like a sore thumb in the small bakery? Or had you never properly checked out your surroundings? As strange as his reasoning sounded, it was the only one you had. “To be honest with you, I don’t know if I should completely believe you”, you said. Before he could interject, you continued. “But I’m inclined to give you another chance. Under the conditions that you don’t behave creepily anymore and don’t show up randomly and drunk at my place.”

Abbacchio’s eyes widened at your words. You truly gave him another chance! This was finally his opportunity to be with you, proving his worthiness. “Of course”, he quickly answered, nodding slightly along his words.

“But, I just want to make clear that I’m currently seeing someone, just in case you expected more from me.” Those words coming from you did sour his mood a little and dropped him from his high. Of course you were still dating that guy, why wouldn’t you? But maybe, he could turn the tables, now that you gave him permission, even encouraged him, to enter in your life. So the mafioso swallowed his feelings of bitterness and tried to keep up with the politeness.

“I think I should introduce myself properly to you. My name is Leone Abbacchio and it’s nice to formally meet you.”

“Well, since we’re already here at the bakery, why don’t we have breakfast together?”

•

To your surprise, you became quite close with Abbacchio. The two of you had met numerous times and by now, you felt at ease around him. Under his harsh appearance and demeanour was actually a very caring and understanding man, who was always there for you. Though he kept some secrets from you, he never failed to let you confide in him, a steady presence during rough times. Your friends and date – who was now your partner – didn’t trust the Italian as much as you did. Every time you mentioned him in a conversation, they never ceased to point out his cryptic attitude and your weird encounter. Some of them even suggested he might be part of the mafia, but you always brushed these accusations off with a laugh. Just because he had one bad night the time you met and was a bit gloomy didn’t imply he was a mafioso! Plus, he had told you he used to be a police officer, surely he wouldn’t have turned into a criminal then, right? You couldn’t imagine him hurting, much less killing, someone when he acted so tender around you. Constantly checking up on you through calls when you couldn’t meet, buying your favourite food when you felt down, making sure you felt comfortable.

So the pain you felt when you had found out your loved ones were right about Abbacchio was intolerable.

It was a normal day, like most times. After work, you met with Abbacchio to catch up with him before going on a dinner date with your significant other. The pair consisting of you currently sat on a terrace of a bistro, sipping on a drink. You stared with interest at the people passing the narrow streets of Naples, a mosaic of faces and feelings. From your peripheral vision, you noticed Abbacchio gaze at you, an unusual soft expression marking his stoic face. Despite having repeated multiple times that you were happy with your current relationship, it seemed that the Italian’s promise to not pursue you didn’t always align with his true feelings. Uncomfortable, you cleared your throat before looking back at the man seated in front of you. Immediately, Abbacchio schooled his expression into one of impassivity again.

“So, you have anything planned this evening?”, Abbacchio inquired seemingly nonchalant.

“Actually yes,” you replied, your lips turning into a smile at the thought of seeing your partner, “we’re gonna go out for dinner. I can’t wait to meet him again, you know how his work kept him busy all week.”

“Oh yeah, must be great to hear him talking shit about me again”, your friend barked back, sarcasm dripping from his voice. You rolled your eyes at his snarky comment.

“I’d really appreciate if you two could behave like adults for once and leave this childish distrust behind. And no, he actually intends on telling me ‘big news’ and not bad-mouthing you.”

Abbacchio perked up his ears at your words? ‘Big news’? What was that bastard planning? “He can shove those news up his ass”, he thought gloomily. The young man had finally gained your full trust, he couldn’t let that guy ruin it. Even though you might not admit to yourself, Abbacchio knew you felt the same affection he harboured for you. He saw it in the way you radiated this warmth he had longed for so long when you two were together. Finally, he knew he had worth and a purpose aside his work at Passione, and it was to be with you. So, why would he let that little boyfriend of yours destroy that with his stupid news? He wasn’t going to propose to you, was he? Not that early in the relationship, right?

“What do you think he plans on telling you?”, the Italian asked you, genuine worry now coating his voice, though you remained oblivious to his concerns. You brooded for a moment over his question.

“Well,” you replied eventually, “I think he’s got a promotion at work and might suggest to me to move in with him soon. But I’m not sure though, that’s only a speculation.”

“And would you do that? Move in with him, I mean,” Abbacchio pressed on, nervousness spreading through his body.

“I think so? I guess it would be nice to live with him”, you answered truthfully. You looked away from your friend’s intense gaze, instead opting to stare at the people surrounding you again.

When you glanced back at Abbacchio, you didn’t expect his face to be adorned with such darkness. He was practically scowling at you, his usually shining golden eyes now oddly sombre. You gasped slightly at his reaction, his trusting atmosphere now completely gone.

But how couldn’t he react like that? Your confession felt like a hard slap in his face, more painful than any attack he had witnessed. You couldn’t move in with that man. He knew it would mean the end of all his plans. Once you’d live with him, you two would see each other less and less (especially since your lovely partner seemed to despise Abbacchio as much as he despised him) and eventually you’d break contact. The mafioso had been your quiet observer before and he couldn’t go back to that role, that was sure. So he needed to craft another plan, one where your significant other wasn’t an obstacle anymore…

“Leone?”, you hesitantly tried to break Abbacchio’s eerie silence. As if awoken from a state of trance, he snapped back into reality. The sight offered in front of him truly broke his heart: your eyes were wide, your lips slightly parted, short breaths escaping them. You were scared and he was the cause of it. Just like during your first encounter. Abruptly, Abbacchio stood up from his chair.

“I’m sorry Y/N,” he murmured softly, “I just need to go now.” Throwing some money on the table and already distancing himself from you, he turned around one more time at your surprised form and managed to say while smiling through gritted teeth: “I hope you’re going to be happy living with him.” Of course he didn’t mean any single word.

•

You were patiently waiting for your boyfriend to pick you up. Meanwhile, Abbacchio’s behaviour from the afternoon still haunted you. Did you do something to anger him? No, you just told him your honest opinion. But still, he had been so enraged, as if you had done him wrong. Maybe he did feel even more towards you than had initially assumed and unintentionally hurt his feelings. But still, that wouldn’t justify him abandoning you like that since you had never lead him on. Sighing, you took a look at your watch again. Your partner still hadn’t arrived, even though he should have been there thirty minutes ago. Deciding that your patience had been sufficiently tested, you gave him a call. After the sixth ringing, he still hadn’t picked up. Slowly, anxiety made itself visible in your body as your phone began trembling in your hand. Your boyfriend was a punctual person, he wouldn’t show up this late without a good reason. And not notifying you? That also seemed very atypical for him. Suddenly, pictures of him being involved in a horrible motorbike accident flashed in front of your eyes, spurring your fear of an ominous evil taking hold of him. That was it. You were going to his place right now.

After twenty minutes, which had been dragged into painful length for you, you had finally arrived at your partner’s flat. Wanting to be polite, you first rang the bell. “Are you there?”, you called anxiously, “It’s me, Y/N!” When no one opened the door or answered you, you hastily fumbled for the spare key he gave you in case of an emergency. Practically yanking the door open, you rapidly entered the apartment. Though the unexpected sight in front of you made you quickly want to run away.

There he was, your boyfriend, laying on the floor, all covered in blood that had dripped from the big cut on the throat. The slightly brown discolouration of the liquid indicated that he had been dead for a while. Your hand found its way to your mouth, trying to repress your retching caused by smell of the decomposition process. Tears pricked in your eyes as you realised your partner was truly dead, murdered even. “Who could do such a horrible thing?”, you mumbled in shock.

As if the killer had heard you, he walked from your significant other’s door to the living room. Familiar long white hair and golden eyes appeared close to your form. Your eyes widened impossibly further as you immediately recognised the murderer. The suppressed sobs finally escaped your mouth, not being able to handle this nightmarish scene.

“I wondered how long it would take you to arrive”, Abbacchio said with his usual nonchalance.

“Why?”, you managed to croak in between your hiccups, “Why would you do that to him? To me?”

“You shouldn’t have tested my limits, Y/N”, he replied as he moved closer to you. You retreated more and more, scared of what he would do to you, until your back hit a wall. Trepidation overtook your senses as he now towered in front of you, your breath coming out shallow and your whole body trembling like a leaf. “I’ve tried to hold back, tried to let you see on your own that you should be with me instead. But the minute you told me you would move in with him if given the chance, I didn’t wanna take a risk anymore.” Suddenly, tears rolled from his eyes as well. With a mixture of disgust and despair, you kept staring at him, too scared to actually react. “You’re all I have left. You’re the only reason worth living for. I couldn’t let him take you away from me, I’m sorry.” A pair of arms encircled your middle, pulling you in an inescapable embrace, as Abbacchio continued crying into your shoulder, a train of endless ‘I’m sorry’s' following along. The hug, which you once had considered as reassuring and comforting, petrified you now, your skin seemingly burning from his touch. “I’m really sorry,” the man repeated for the millionth time, “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I’ll build a nice life for us, I’ll protect you from everything, just please don’t leave me.”

You continued standing there while looking at the rotting corpse of your partner. “You’ll protect me from everything, huh?”, you whispered so quietly, you doubted Abbacchio actually heard you under his sobs. “But who will protect me from you?”

[anemoniii]

dance with me | d.m

word count: 1.2k

warnings: painfully cheesy writing 

ship: draco malfoy x muggle!reader (gender neutral)

request: no, but they're now open c:

summary: taking place after the war, muggle!reader learns just how cheesy sleepy draco can be after taking him camping for the first time ~ based off the beautiful song dance around the fire by why these coyotes 

                              ────────────⊱⁜⊰ ──────────── 

Glowing embers illuminated the surrounding trees of an open clearing that was seemingly placed perfectly on top of a cliff. Just under the cliff, it had to have been 30 metres in the air and overlooked the deep, blue water that was colliding against the rocks at the bottom which was releasing a classic summer smell that you were all too familiar with. What was once your “family’s secret hideaway” was now something you decided was time to share with your significant other.

It’s been three years since you have met the mystery man, who you now know by Draco Lucius Malfoy, at a local pub. Or what he lovingly called it upon your first encounter “a muggle sweat tavern”. Despite the abrasive and confusing remarks he made that night, you soon learned the truth behind his complex façade. 

Being a “muggle”, as he calls it, you had no idea what he was talking about for the first month or so. All you could grasp was that he was utterly lost in his morality (thanks to his upbringing) and needed an outlet. You didn’t think much of this the first time you talked to him. In fact, you didn’t even think you would see him again after this first interaction. But, what you now realize was luck, fate to some, you bumped into him every Friday after work. He was always seated at the same table which was pushed up against the west wall of the club — far from both the bartender and others. 

You sat and listened to everything Draco had to say while he sat taking sips and bites at whatever drink and meal he decided to indulge himself with that week. That went on for a month before he suggested that you have more formal meetings. His exact, partially slurred, words were, “I don’t understand why you keep coming to this filthy mug- … filthy pub. I found this restaurant down the street, just two blocks over, and I think- I think we should at least take a look at their menu.” 

To which you replied, with a loving smile, “I’d be honoured.”

The night Draco took you to the restaurant marked the first of many dates, as you would later call them. Three years after that night, you now laid peacefully in his arms, gazing over the water below and up at the stars. His head rested peacefully against your shoulder, and his soft hair was pushed against your face, calling you to run your fingers through it. As you reached out to place your hand on his head, a quiet hum echoed from his throat, causing you to pause.

“Don’t you just love summer?” He happily breathed out, slowly lifting his head off of you so he could stare into your eyes. You met his gaze and saw how gently his eyes blinked — fluttering almost, his eyelashes were barely touching. “I love it so much, it’s so… nice. Summer is so nice, but not as nice as you-” he continued, dragging on the “you”, and ended by booping your nose with the tip of his index finger. 

“Go to sleep you big, oaf,” you teased, his finger still pressed against your nose.

He furrowed his eyebrows and shifted his eyes off of you. To anyone else, they might have thought that was a sign of discontent, but you knew this was his way of teasing back. “You’re rather mean, you know,” he puffed, “I wouldn’t even be out here in this excuse of a forest if it weren’t for you.”

You laughed at this. He was the one who begged you to finally show him your family’s secret hideaway. You smiled at Draco and shook your head before replying, “Then I guess you won’t mind if I pack up our belongings and-”

“That’s okay,” he said before standing up and whipping off his pants, “I was kidding.” He reached down to grab your hand and pulled you up into him. He delicately planted a kiss on your lips, followed by your nose, and then your forehead before whispering an ‘I love you’ into your ear. 

“I love you more, darling,” you whispered back. He gave you yet another kiss before dragging you back to the tent that was placed away from the cliff and near the tree line. You nearly forgot about the fire that was ever so brightly glowing in the background. Fallen leaves and sticks crunched heavily under your feet as Draco pulled you closer to the makeshift fire that was dying down. He let go of your hand to blow the fire back to life.

He looked so at peace. So tired, yet so happy. He found his home. He knew it. Anyone who knew the couple knew it. Even if you denied it to all his old peers from Hogwarts, you also knew that you somehow managed to bring his withered soul back to life. 

“Dance with me,” he mumbled, stuffing his face into you. The two of you swayed back and forth for what felt like an entirety. The sound of the waves, fire, and forest filling the silence.

“You- you are so entrancing, y’know?” Draco asked, his arms wounded tightly around your body. 

“No, tell me,” you replied.

“You’re so amazing and wonderful, and I love everything about you-”

“Even if I’m a filthy muggle?” you asked while trying to repress a giggle, causing him to groan. He was silent for a few seconds, as he released his tight grasp on you to spin you around, he finally spoke–

“Shut up,” he pulled you back into him before he went on. “I love you, the beautiful (A/N: or handsome!) muggle you. And I’m going to marry you one day too — don’t you dare forget that.” His eyes were — lovingly —  boring into your soul. 

“Dray-”

“I’m going to wake up beside you every day and make you breakfast and kiss you before we go off to work and kiss you when we return home and I’m going to love you for every little bit of you. Flaws and all,” he rambled. “If you would let me, of course.”

You rested your hands on his cheeks before putting a finger to his lip.

“Why wouldn’t I let you?” He opened his mouth to respond, but you cut him off before he could drone on with his self-deprecation. “Don’t answer that. You’re worth every star in the universe — you’re worth everything to me, now come lie down. You look exhausted.”

“‘M not ‘ired,” he halfheartedly replied, not on purpose, of course. But he had been grasping for energy since the sunset, so it came to no surprise that he lost all effort to talk properly. 

You led him to the tent where you managed to tuck him in after struggling for several minutes. Following suit, you lifted the blankets on the loose end and snuggled your way in between his arms. Before drifting off to sleep, you felt your lover pull you deeper into his chest before mumbling a ‘thank you’ into your hair.

“Thank you,” you breathed out, reaching behind him to finally play with his soft hair. 

a/n: hello there! i haven’t written anything like this in awhile, so i hope you enjoyed lol - my request box is now open and empty, so feel free to leave anything you might want to read/suggestions c:

[ibitsunahaato]

Summer Splash 6

Yuzuru: …I have found Hiiro-sama. He is over there.

Aira: You're right! As expected of Fushimi-senpai.

Aira: Wait—HUH~?! He's waist-deep in the river..

He~y, Hiro-ku~n! Come back! It's too dark, you won't be able to find it!

This is dangerous! Hiro-ku~n!

Hiiro: …

Aira: He ignored me… Is my voice not reaching him? HE~LLO!

Hiiro: …

Yuzuru: (...Rather than ignoring, it seems like he cannot hear any sounds from the surroundings.)

(As Shiratori-sama said, the river is dangerous at night. My prior investigations tell me that the water level here is at three metres at most.)

(Even if it must be by force, I should bring him back. I shall borrow a rope from the control office and…)

Hiiro: —I can see it.

Aira: H-Hiro-kun?!

Aira: What do we do? Hiro-kun has disappeared into the water…!

Yuzuru: Ugh, that decides it.

Shiratori-sama, please wait here. I shall swim and—

Hiiro: …Phew

Alright. I have found the glasses!

Fufu, it was worth getting drenched.

…Huh, why are the two of you here?

Aira: I mean, if you ask why, we came running after you but…Uhh…

Yuzuru: You did well but… How were you even able to find it in this pitch darkness?

Hiiro: I was able to find it precisely because it was dark. When the sun was shining, the light reflected made it too bright and various things would catch the eye. So on the contrary, it was actually a hindrance to the search.

By sharpening my senses inside the darkness, I could immediately detect the glasses' presence.

Yuzuru: Ha… Their presence, you say…? Hiiro-sama's physical prowess is excellent.

Aira: You don't have to care about him, Fushimi-senpai. Hiro-kun is just your average weirdo.

Hiiro: But even you say weird things sometimes? Since we are both weirdos, let us continue to get along.

Aira: Don't put me in the same boat as you by calling me a weirdo! I'm normal!

Mika: Should I go there as well ‘n see what the situation's like? But I can't see well when it's dark since I'm nightblind.

Not only would I be useless, but I'd also drag 'em down. What to do…?

Keito: …Kagehira, can you hear something from faraway?

Mika: Uhm… Ah, 'tis 'em! Hasumi-senpai, everyone's back!

Hiiro: We're back. Hasumi-senpai, can you give me your hand?

Keito: Like this? This feels like—My glasses? No way… To think that you would actually find them.

Keito: …Hm? What happened, Amagi? Your whole body is soaking wet.

Hiiro: You see, the glasses had sunk to the bottom of the river. So I had no choice but to dive in.

Keito: You dived in? You shouldn’t do such rash things, good gracious…

Yuzuru: Hiiro-sama, leave the explanation for later and please change your clothes in the tent. It would be worrying if your temperature dropped.

Hiiro: Umu. Understood.

Time: Five minutes later

Hiiro: Sorry to keep you waiting. Doesn't it feel strange when I'm the only one in casual clothes?

Yuzuru: Let us hang up your practice clothes later. They should be dry in the morning.

Hiiro-sama, please come here. Allow me to dry your hair for you.

…In the end, it is great that you were able to find them. But the river is dangerous at night. If you had to search, would it not have been better to wait for morning?

Hiiro: No. If I had waited till morning, they would have vanished.

Yuzuru: …Are you referring to the stars?

Hiiro: Umu. Here you can even see stars that would fade away under the street lights in ES.

When I thought that we could only enjoy this view now, being in a camp surrounded by nature, I wanted to find the glasses no matter what.

All five of us together make "Keito Lectures". So I wanted to enjoy this moment with everyone, without leaving anyone behind.

That was all. Let me apologise for causing worry… I'm sorry.

Yuzuru: …When Keito-sama lost his glasses, everyone was down in the dumps, and the ambience was not suitable for enjoying the starry sky.

Although it was dangerous and I can neither give you full credit nor praise you—This time, we were saved by Hiiro-sama's ability to take action.

Your conduct may be far from normal and sometimes lacking in common sense, but that is precisely why it can be helpful at times…

Hiiro: …I am inexperienced and will cause a lot of trouble even in the future, but I would be glad if I could be accompanied by you all as part of "Keito Lectures".

There is still a lot I want to know—About idols, about the city, about everyone, and about this world.

Yuzuru: If you are fine with me, I would be pleased to. Keito-sama also appears to have the same opinion.

Keito: Unfortunately, I seem to be surrounded by innumerable troublesome guys. The number increasing by one more new person is of no concern.

There are limits since we are in different agencies and units, but as long as you don't throw in the towel, I'll look after you in "Keito Lectures".

Hiiro: Umu! Once again, I'll be under your care.

Aira: Is the convo over…? Hasumi-senpai, would you like to play with this?

Keito: Sparkler fireworks? Did you bring them all the way here?

Aira: Yeah. Since summer kinda means fireworks, so I thought it'd be nice if we could play with them together…♪

Mika: There's many kinds of 'em, huh. What's this?

Hiiro: It's shaped like a gun. Is this how you set it off?

Keito: Don't start yet, alright? It would be terrible if a fire breaks out. Let's move to the riverbed?

Yuzuru: Quite right. And just to be cautious, let me also borrow a fire extinguisher from the control office.

This is going to become a wonderful memory… Am I right, Keito-sama?

Keito: …Ah, certainly.

Writer: Yuumasu

← previous ✦ story masterlist

Proofing: mia

[blvejeanbaby]

Play Ground | Jung Yunho

Pairing: Yunho x reader, mention of reader with other idols (but it’s still basically a non!idol au) Word count: 3.8k Warnings: mentions of sex, alcohol consumption Summary: Drunken words are sober thoughts... sometimes spoken at clubs and playgrounds

The pre-party was in full swing. Yeosang and San were over by the counter, preparing a second batch of mojitos, which you weren't sure you were going to drink (the previous one had contained far too much rum and you were not one to water down your drinks); Jongho was in charge of the music, arguing with your friend Ginny about the line-up (she wanted a certain sing-along Beyoncé ballad). Your eyes passed over Wooyoung and Mingi, who were a beer pong team against Seonghwa and Hongjoong, who were losing spectacularly. And finally, your eyes found Yunho. He was standing by the sliding doors leading into the back garden, watching the beer pong game over the rim of his red cup with an amused look in his eyes. Just then, your eyes met. You smiled, not wanting to appear suspicious by looking away too quickly. He smirked back at you, pushed off the wall and sauntered over to you.

He was drunk. It was quite clear now that he was walking (damn Yeosang and San's cocktail making abilities!) by the slight stumble in his walk as he passed the column in the middle of the room. He was rather clumsy as he dropped down onto the couch next to you. From up close, you could see his cheeks were slightly rosy and his eyes held a shimmer to them that suggested... something more. You weren't sure what. "You were sitting here all lonesome," he said.

"Lonesome?" You raised your eyebrows. "I was enjoying peace, quiet and voluntary solitude." You patted the throw pillow that lay in between you and Yunho. "I was considering taking a nap, actually. You know how alcohol makes me drowsy."

"Does it, now?" He held his cup out to me. "Sip?"

"Is it mojito?" But as you leaned to smell, it was a lot sweeter than the medicinal smell of the rum. "What is this?"

"Some Spanish liquor," Yunho said. "Mixed with milk."

Indeed, the substance in his cup was quite white. You wrinkled your nose. Even though his description suggested otherwise, the smell promised a sweet taste. "I think I'll pass." You leaned back against the couch, pulling your legs up under yourself. "Shall we play Never Have I Ever with the others? I'm bored."

“Sure. I’ll call them over.” You held your breath; Yunho leaned in as if to give you a kiss, but he only put his cup on the table behind you before getting up and rounding up the others. A pang of disappointment shot through you as you watched him gather your friends. Provided with newly filled cups of San and Yeosang’s mojito mix, everyone settled around you on the couch. You felt as though you were about to tell a grand story and everyone was gathering to listen. You were glad Yunho went to sit down beside you again, even if it was just to feel his body warmth.

“Who starts?” Hongjoong asked before taking a tentative sip from his cup. He made a face; evidently the mojito tasted bad.

“I will,” you said. After all, it was your idea. “Never have I ever... made out with anyone in this room.” You took a sip and winked at Ginny. You weren’t the only one to lift your cup: San and Wooyoung looked, rather suspiciously, away from each other as they drank, as did Jongho and your friend Yeeun.

“My turn,” Mingi said. You felt Yunho stiffen beside you. “Never have I ever had feelings for someone in this room.”

You lifted your eyebrows as you watched Yunho decidedly take a sip. You followed, as did Wooyoung. When no one else drank, you saw how Wooyoung’s face fell. You also saw Ginny throw you a wink this time.

Now, it was Yeeun’s time to think of a question. “Never have I ever... thrown up in my mom’s vegetable garden.” She looked at Jimin intently. Jimin laughed, taking a sip. She was the only one to.

The game continued for another while, after which the group split into two: those who wanted to smoke outside and those who wanted to play a round of truth or dare. You watched Yunho go with your eyes as he left to smoke, you staying with the group inside. You didn’t feel much for playing the game, but you stayed nonetheless.

It was Mingi who asked you your first question of truth. “I saw you drink just now... Who is it you had feelings for?”

Everyone’s eyes were on you. You were glad that Yunho, San, Wooyoung, Seonghwa and your girl friends weren’t there, but at the same time you missed Ginny. She would understand your inner turmoil at the moment. But you had had a bit to drink now and there was no denying it...

“Come on!” Mingi pressed you. “Tell us. You picked truth!”

“Fine,” you sighed. “It’s-”

“We need to go!” The sliding door to the garden was thrown open and Seonghwa burst inside, looking all sorts of frantic. “We needed to be queueing at the club ten minutes ago!”

Seonghwa had been right in trying to plan the evening. You should’ve arrived earlier to ensure not queueing for too long. But there was nothing to do about it now, as the line to enter the club passed down several other establishments on the road. You stood next to Ginny, who was chatting animatedly to San about something to do with university. You saw Wooyoung throw the boy many glances that were probably very meaningful, but you didn’t quite understand what was going on there.

You were just about to turn to him to ask if anything was wrong, when your eyes moved past him and saw... “Changkyun?”

Changkyun and his friend Jooheon immediately looked up. When Changkyun saw you, his eyes lit up, as if he was happy to see you. “Y/N!” He gestured for you to come closer, so you did, stepping past Ginny to get to the barrier in order to hug Changkyun. You two had had a casual thing for a while, but it had ended a few weeks ago because he got himself a girlfriend. Finally, you had thought when he announced to you via text that he couldn’t see you anymore. Although you knew via Ginny that the girlfriend had up and left already. “It’s been so long.”

“I know,” you said. Being back in Changkyun’s arms felt so familiar, you almost couldn’t breathe. “Come on,” you drew back from his embrace and tapped the top of the barrier. “Come stand with me.”

Changkyun and Jooheon didn’t have to think twice; the line was so long already. Because of your history of hooking up, Ginny had often been left with Jooheon. She spun to talk to him as Changkyun cornered you against the wall. It was clear that this was perhaps one of the first few times he was going out again after breaking up with his short-term girlfriend. He wanted a rebound, apparently... “What have you been up to?”

You started explaining something completely irrelevant about your past week - you had been rather cooped up inside trying to study for an important exam and had seen very little alcohol and very little night life. You didn’t ask for details on Changkyun’s week, fearing it would be awkward to talk about the ex-girlfriend, but he started talking about her himself.

As soon as you entered the club, you felt excited. The buzz you had felt during pre-gaming had worn off a bit, so you instantly dragged Changkyun with you to the bar. He paid for your drink, which told you quite clearly what his intentions with you were for tonight. You weren’t about to say no, not to the drink and not to his plans.

Until you spotted him. Yunho stood with his back against the wall, listening to Yeeun telling what was possibly a great story about her favourite activity in life (flower arranging; oddly enough she always found a way to sneak it into conversation). He ought to be looking at Yeeun, but he wasn't. Instead, his eyes were trained on you.

You quickly looked back at Changkyun, feeling suddenly awkward, as if Yunho had caught you in a very compromising position with Kyun. But it was nothing like that, not yet at least. You tried to smile at Changkyun, to appear normal, but you could feel it wasn't at all convincing. You felt a sudden urge to tell Kyun to fuck off (he didn't deserve that rudeness, he was perfectly gentlemanly in every way), push Yeeun out of the way and confess your undying love for Yunho. But that was madness.

So you excused yourself to the toilet instead. Luckily, there was a long line and, unlucky for you, it caused you to have time to overthink. Would you have hooked up with Changkyun any other night? Definite yes. He was hot, good in bed, had a good personality and always treated you with respect. His friends and roommates were amazing and you liked sleeping over there, even if only to appreciate the view from his apartment and the softness of his bed. But tonight was different.

Perhaps it was because you had admitted it, if not to others than at least to yourself; you liked Yunho. You had a crush on him. You thought of the way he had sipped at the question (he was in love with someone!), the way his eyes were on you and not on Yeeun. He couldn't be in love with Ginny, you told yourself. If it was Jimin, that was just immoral; Mingi had a massive crush on her. No, it was none of them... so it had to be you. Or had he just been playing around? Had he misunderstood the question?

You quickly did your business at the toilet, wanting to return to the club’s main area to dance. You passed by the bar, which was void of Changkyun. You found him a moment later on the edge of the dance floor, his front stuck to an unknown girl’s backside. On the hunt for a rebound, as you had suspected. You smiled at Jooheon as you passed by; he was dancing with Ginny. They were always platonic, but you weren’t sure if they would remain that way.

Instead, you found Yeeun, Yunho, Hongjoong and Jongho a little further into the mass of bodies on the dance floor. Jongho was looking wistfully at Jimin, who was a few metres away, dancing closely with San. Behind him, Seonghwa and Wooyoung were just returning with drinks in their hands, the latter looking at San with a similar expression as Jongho at Jimin. You, however, turned your attention to Yunho. His was already on you.

You decided to test your theory. For Ginny’s birthday last year, you and the girls had all arranged for her to have both a pole dance lesson and a lesson in burlesque dancing. If there was one thing you had learned from that, it was to feel comfortable and confident. It was that feeling you summoned as you adjusted your movements to the rhythm of the music, attempting to make yourself as sexy and appealing as possible. You suspected you needed little effort to get Yunho’s attention, as he was already looking at you and only you, but you could aid the situation this way. If you wanted something to happen... this was the way to accomplish it.

The music was loud, the bodies around you sweaty. You were way too alert of everything that was happening around you, but at the same time you were oddly focused on Yunho only. And that’s when something snapped in him.

He was by you in a second, accidentally shoving Yeeun out the way and into Seonghwa’s arms, in an attempt to get to you faster. He was intoxicated, very clearly so. He would never be as bold as to touch you where he touched you now; his right hand was on your hip, his left cupped your face. He tilted your face upwards and bend over. Your breath hitched. Was he going to kiss you? But no, he bend a little further to speak in your ear: “I thought tonight you would be with Changkyun.” He spit his name, angrily. You had never heard Yunho talk of anyone that way.

“Not if you’ll be with me,” you said, feeling bold. You wanted to reach up and touch Yunho, but it was always you taking the lead. He had never been this way before, always taking a backseat to everyone else. Oh no, don’t mistake him for not having personality or confidence. He wasn’t shy, he wasn’t reserved. But he was careful, sometimes near calculating. Yunho knew what he wanted and how to get it, but he would prefer to wait and see. And there you were, answering his unspoken calls, finally. Finally forgetting about Changkyun.

“Let’s leave,” Yunho said.

“Leave?” And leave our friends behind? you wanted to ask.

“I have something I want to show you,” he said.

You pulled back a little so you could see his eyes. He was drunk, yes, but not so drunk that he could not think clearly. “Okay,” you heard yourself say.

Five minutes later you had said goodbye to your friends (Ginny already congratulated you on your catch, even though nothing had happened yet; Wooyoung had looked sourly on as he promised to tell San you had said goodbye; San was pressed against a girl’s backside; Changkyun and his girl were getting thrown out by a security guy for him fingering her in the club’s bathrooms), you had collected your coats from the wardrobe and you were on your way to whatever Yunho wanted to show you.

The night air sobered you up significantly and with a tentative peak at Yunho, you could see that it had the same effect on him. Your hands swung in between you two, occasionally brushing against each other. You bit your lip, gathering all of the courage inside you to reach out just a little bit and -

His hand was warm in yours.

You couldn’t help but look up at him and smile. He was staring straight ahead, but by the bulging of his cheek, you could see he was smiling too.

After a few minutes of walking, Yunho led you into a park. There were no lights on inside, there was only the glow of the street lights a little ways away. You had frequented the park when you were younger. Every day after school, you would go there to hang out, unaware that you were scaring the younger kids away. You hadn’t been to the park in months now, years even. You didn’t think Yunho would be so sentimental as to take you here.

The park’s center piece was a large playground, complete with every playset you could imagine: slides of different heights, seesaws with an animal theme, an array of different swings. And there was a relatively big, wooden playhouse. It was the playhouse you had had your first kiss, the playhouse where you got drunk for the first time. It was that exact playhouse that Yunho started climbing into - he had to let go of your hand to do so.

You followed him inside. The interior was warmer than outside, despite the many holes in the wood. Even though the floor of the house was covered in sand, you didn’t mind sitting down, because it meant sitting next to Yunho. In honesty, he was all too big for the playhouse. He had to pull up his knees to be able to fit his legs and he had to slump down a little bit to not hit his head, but he seemed comfortable nonetheless. And more importantly, he seemed to be staring at you.

“Is this what you wanted to show me?” you asked, getting shifty under his gaze.

“Oh!” Yunho said, as if he’d forgotten. He shot up a little, hitting his head on the roof of the playhouse.

You laughed softly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he said, rubbing his head.

You sat up a little, taking the hand that was rubbing his head in yours and softly pulling it away to reveal the damage done. There was nothing to show for it, although you imagined there would be a nice little bump the next morning. You bent over and pressed a kiss on the sore spot. “There.” You swore Yunho blushed.

He moved on quickly, saying: “This is what I wanted to show you.” He took out his phone, using it as a flashlight. Yunho pointed it at the wall of the playhouse, revealing a drawing. It was a heart, shot through with an arrow. On the left side stood YH, on the right YN.

You moved closer, taking out your finger and stroking the drawing. “How long has this been here?”

“Remember when we came here the night before graduation? We played truth or dare.” You nodded, remembering how, at the end of the night, everyone was escorted out of the park by police after ignoring noise complaints and being drunk in public. Luckily, because you were underage, the police had settled for contacting your parents and sending you home with a warning. “I hid in the bushes when the police came. I managed to sneak away. I figured they’d only be warning us for the noise, so I came back when I saw their cars drive away. Only, everyone had gone. I didn’t know if others had managed to escape the police, so I climbed in here to wait it out for a moment. When no one returned...” Yunho shrugged. “I thought it was going to be the last time we would all be here together. And I wanted to leave a trace of us behind.”

“A trace of us?” you said, tracing the outlines of the heart. “Of Yunho and Y/N.”

“I was in love with you. All throughout high school.”

You felt your heart contract. “You were?”

Yunho nodded. “I know you didn’t, don’t, feel the same way.” He shrugged. “You had a massive crush on Jeon Jungkook when he was still in school with us, right? And then, the year of our graduation, you suddenly shifted your focus onto Moon Kevin! I was so upset.” He laughed a little, as if it was funny. “And then you got with Changkyun.”

You saw all of the faces of the boys he mentioned in your mind. Jungkook, whom you indeed had had a crush on, but so did the entire school. That was never serious. And then Kevin... It had been a little bit more serious, but you found out he was dating some ulzzang and you had given up. And then Changkyun...

“None of that was ever serious,” you said. You thought of Changkyun. You had only been seeing him for about a year or so - way past graduation. You jerked your head up. “When you said you were in love with me... You are not still, are you?”

Yunho didn’t respond, just looked away to his phone, turning off the flashlight.

You figured he wouldn’t respond at all, unless prompted by you... “Because if you are,” you started, gulping. Were you really about to do this? There was no turning back now. “...then that would be really fortunate. Cause I- Cause I’m in love with you too.”

Now it was Yunho’s turn to jerk his head up quickly. “You’re just saying that.”

“No!” Your eyes, used to the dark, searched his face. “I mean it.”

There was a long pause, and then a smile broke out on his face. “You do?”

You couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “I do, Yunho.” You wanted to reach out and take a hold of his hand, but he had something different in mind. He grabbed your face, in a rather rough manner that revealed the alcohol had not made its way out of his system entirely, and pressed his lips firmly against yours.

It felt so different from every single kiss you had had before. Where before, you had not been able to stop comparing every partner to the previous, you were now only focused on Yunho. On the way his grip on your face softened as his other hand found purchase on your waist. On the way he made a little yelping sound as he pulled you closer - so close that he lost his balance and toppled over backwards, you following him without breaking the kiss.

You didn’t want the moment to ever end. You were far too content just lazily dragging your tongue against his, his hands exploring your body. After what felt like an eternity, you pulled away from him, Yunho’s lips following yours needily. But you sat up a little, too far away for him to reach. “We should head home,” you said.

“Nah,” Yunho said, pulling you by your hands so you fell softly on top of him. “I don’t want us to face drunken Mingi.”

Your heart burst at the thought of what he meant - he thought you had wanted to come home with him. There was no way you would suggest taking Yunho home to Ginny and Seonghwa - the latter of which seemed to be permanently crashing at your place after being thrown out by his partner two weeks ago. And so instead, you shuffled down a little bit so you could lay your head on Yunho’s chest and close your eyes.

You could feel Yunho’s heartbeat, as well as his chest rising and falling with every breath. The soothing atmosphere (the birds of the park slowly coming back to life, chittering away) made you so sleepy, you didn’t know where the night ended and sleep began. At least you knew when the morning came.

You opened your eyes, groaning a little. You were hungover; you felt the headache as soon as you opened your eyes. Your eyes were met by another pair and -

“Argh!” You shot upright, your scream causing Yunho to wake up too. He shot up, hitting his head on the roof of the playhouse once again. In scaring you, the little kid seemed to be scared himself; his eyes disappeared from the entrance of the playhouse, followed by a thump and a yell: “Mom! Mom!”

Yunho rubbed his head, muttering angrily under his breath.

You wiped the sleep out of your eyes, not caring that you were wiping your makeup off as well. “We should go.”

“Before they call the police on us,” Yunho agreed.

But even if the mother would have called the police, it wouldn’t ruin your day. Instead, you figured it would have been a perfect full circle moment.

[little-lemon-lattes]

The Scheme

🌛Zelda Spellman x fem! reader

—Word count: 1.9k

— Triggers: Mention of murder and burning in a non-violent context

— Summary: We have part 2 to The Set Up! You and Zelda spend a blissful day together since kissing the night before, and make the most of being together before the mortuary fills with life- and typical Spellman scheming- again!

You were on Cloud-fucking-9.

The previous evening, you and Zelda had kissed. It had been truly extraordinary, even better than the few times you had allowed your mind to indulge in that kind of imagery concerning her. You had never felt that good with anyone before; well, minding that you had neither felt for anyone like that of which you had been trying to cover for the astonishing woman.

She currently lay in the grass next to you, cheek resting tentatively on your belly, as you both just watched each other in comfortable silence. Gosh, kissing Zelda had felt SO good that it had been hard to stop at just one. Like now. Her stunningly bright and beautiful green eyes were boring into yours, but you really couldn’t tell if she was trying to send you a signal or was just unwittingly that gorgeous on the daily. Probably the latter. You also had to remind yourself that, EVEN though you two already lived under the same roof, you would take things one step at a time together. The last 24 hours with Zelda had been like a dream, and the Spellman mortuary had a new air to it now that you knew where you stood.

That morning, you had woken just before dawn (which was much earlier than you preferred), likely still on a high from the feel of Zelda’s lips. Rather than lay there attempting to force yourself back to sleep, you rose from your pillow. Perhaps it was your always-lingering insecurity pulling some strings, but it suddenly seemed desperately important to you- then and there at 4:56am- that you find a way of proving to Zelda that she hadn’t made the wrong choice opening up to you the night before. Just one more bonus of Hilda’s disappearance that weekend being that the kitchen was inevitably free, within a few minutes you had decided to make a spot of breakfast to share. You would never admit it out loud, but you were also buzzing to showcase your culinary ability; of which had been somewhat hindered by the unspoken acknowledgement that Hilda was the kitchen witch of the house.

With that, you were out of bed and clothed in a black turtleneck and mom jeans, as you put the finishing touches on a French braid: all by 5:15. THe next two hours flew by as you whipped up black coffee, almond cake, black sausage, eggs, salmon, bagels, mushroom, and tomato. You were just laying out bloody-fleshed plums and yoghurt when you heard gentle footsteps on the landing above you. Smiling softly, you stopped to admire as the woman padded down the stairs, wrapped in a silky black robe and wiping bits of sleep from her eyes. She stopped dead as she spotted the food on the table, hand still raised to her eye.

“Surprise...?” you peeped.

Zelda’s hand flopped to her side as she tilted her head adorably, treating you to a giddy smile. And you were hopeless to try not to smile right back. That there was enough to have made the last two hours worth it. “

“What’s all this, y/n?”

“I, uh... breakfast?”

Zelda couldn’t help smiling a little more at the cute way you had made it seem like a question. “I see that,” she laughed, “but why?”

You forced an expression of mock pain onto your face.

“I am hurt, Spellman, hurt! Does there have to be a reason?”

All she did was raise her eyebrows in disbelief. You supposed it was probably best to build any chance you had together on honesty.

“Okay, FINE. I just... wanted to show you that last night wasn’t a mistake, in case you were having any doubts.”

Zelda trotted, cat-like, down from her post against the railing, and came to rest just half a metre in front of you.

“Why, there was absolutely nothing of the sort. I hardly slept a wink all night; your lips have something of a memorable feel to them, if I am honest.”

And this time, it was her that closed the space between you, snaking her arms around your waist to pull you closer. One long peck later, the bubblegum-pink shade of your cheeks matched hers in perfect unison, as if in competition.

Breakfast was sweet and long, spent thigh to thigh next to each other, chatting about all the things you had been too afraid to ask each other until that point.

The rest of the day was passed laying next to one another in the winter sunshine, beneath an age-old willow tree. After what felt like just minutes since you had arrived (but had really been hours), you pointed to the sky with the hand that wasn’t clasping Zelda’s.

“Look, the sun!”

You received a lazy “hmmm” in response. Twisting to face her on your left, you couldn’t fight your sigh of content. The High Priestess was laying with her eyes closed in utter bliss, the final rays of Sunday’s sunshine dancing across those glorious lashes.

“It’s setting, Zelda. Everyone will be back soon.” you murmured to her. It was as if you had thrown a bucket of ice over her. Cloud 9 disappeared with the snapping open of her eyes. The soft expression that had occupied her visage all day visibly hardened into her more familiar, stoic one. She leapt to her feet, snatching up the open novel beside her and swinging out her hand to you with force. Time and Space closed in around you the moment you took it, and, the next thing you knew, the two of you were outside the mortuary once more.

You turned to her sharply.

“What was that about?” you demanded. Standing silent for a moment, Zelda’s ears visibly pricked. After a few more moments, she seemed appeased, and swivelled to you. Her shoulders were tense, and you took note of her fingernails digging into her palm.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I didn’t mean to be so abrupt. I just... I am enthused about where you and I are headed, y/n, and I’m terrified that others may not share my enthusiasm. I want to enjoy things as they are at present for a while longer, before having to think about who needs to be involved in our business.”

It was understandable, you supposed, and admittedly: there was a certain appeal to keeping things 007-style, like that fantastic mortal film. You relaxed a bit, and instantly felt awful for raising your voice at her.

You reached for the woman’s shoulder.

“You’re right, Zelds. I understand.”

She looked unconvinced.

“Are you sure? You have every right to want to murder me right now, if you so wished. Although, only if you were to bury me in the Cain pit...” she added as an afterthought.

You had to giggle at that one.

“You’re safe for now, Zelda,” you teased, “now, come on! I need to find a good hiding spot for scaring the BANSHEES out of them when they get back!”

Hilda, Sabrina, and Ambrose literally stomped their feet in sheer disappointment when they arrived back at the house and hadn’t caught the pair of you locked in some form of intimate embrace.

“Aw man! What will I tell my friends?! I had Roz totally excited about y/n finally getting some action... Like, she seriously admitted that she had this big crush on her when she first met her; whiiiiich definitely earned a few looks from Harvey, to say the least. The take-away from it all is that we now know exactly how fragile that guy’s ego is, YIKES, is all I can say.”

All the while, Ambrose was muttering a consistent string of “fuck”s under his breath, and Hilda was deciding whether to scald Sabrina’s ass to Hades and back.

“Sabrina!” her aunt admonished in disbelief, “how could you be so careless?! If any of this gets back to your aunt Zelda, we should consider ourselves excommunicated from her presence for good!”  

All of them fought a cringe. Sabrina looked a bit sheepish.

Hilda turned to Ambrose.

“And what about you, mister? What’s with the constant profanities?”

Ambrose took a step back from his aunt, nobody was sure whether consciously or not. “Erm...hm. Yes. Well. I-” his sputtering was resembling a car trying to start up. Ambrose’s eyes suddenly seemed unable to reach past the witches’ knees.

  “-um. Damn. Hecate, yes, I have... just lost a particularly large sum of money to one Dorian Gray.”

Hilda’s eyes were ready to pop out of her head.   “I was so unequivocally certain that our plan would work! Now where I am supposed to come up with $1000?!”

He was a little manic. The only one of the three who seemed somewhat happy about Ambrose’s situation was Sabrina, sticking a finger at him. “HA! Now that makes what I did so much better!”

Her plum-coloured lips parted with glee, and without warning, her and her travel bag had disappeared. Ambrose made a furious mental note to pour formaldehyde in her evening tea for leaving him here alone. When he had finally built up the courage to look his otherwise cheery aunt in the eyes again, a flash of fear struck him at the murderous look in hers. A low growl exited her throat.

“Well,” she snapped, “I suppose there will be no more silly little attempts on our part to play Cupid.”

As quickly as it had started, her anger dissipated, and was replaced by a certain sadness. Her mouth raised just a fraction, into a tired little smile.

“ ’just thought that Zelds could do with something nice for once. We failed. It didn’t work.”

With that, she picked up her carpet bag and shuffled off up the stairs. Ambrose watched her go, now a lone silhouette in the entrance of their home.

Or so he thought. You waited until Ambrose had moodily trudged down to the embalming room before emerging from your spot in the broom closet. Sniffling a little from all the dust- those things hadn’t been flown for years, SO old fashioned- you felt a mix of emotion at what you had just heard. You hadn’t intended on becoming an audience to some type of scheme, and especially not one of which involved you.

At first, there was embarrassment. You hadn’t realised that your feelings were apparently so obvious! Paired with the fact that Zelda’s must have been too in order to warrant such a matchmaking scheme; along with that you had truly thought that you had done a superb job at keeping it all under wraps, you were left feeling a bit stupid. But then came the funny side of it all, imagining Hilda, Ambrose, and Sabrina sneaking about like the Pink Panther and holding secret meetings about your love life. And finally came the warmth, the realisation of exactly how much the Spellmans had grown to care for you- so much that they trusted you to love Zelda as much as they did.

The whole situation was entirely too much of an opportunity to just leave alone. Grinning with total delight and schemes cooking of your own, you rematerialised in Zelda’s study at the Academy. The loud CRACK that accompanied that particular piece of magic made the woman flinch. Her brow crinkled at the sight of you in front of her great oaken desk. She was a little taken aback, and (it delighted you even more) flustered to see you there.

“Y/n?”

“Zelda. I NEED to tell you what I just heard!”

A game was now afoot.

And your opponents weren’t finished yet either.

[haydensdelvca]

hiiiii can you please write a Tremmett fic of them going camping as like a vacation but it’s anything but that!

Camping - Tremmett

Thanks for the prompt! I'll admit it was a bit challenging at first - it had me looking up everything from camping movies to raccoons. I enjoyed writing it though - I really hope you like it :)

Emmett scrolled through the list '30 Fun Date Ideas during the Pandemic' which he'd found online. Both him and Travis had taken 3 days off to treat themselves to some well needed time together. With the pandemic, and the exhausting shifts they had lately, they needed to get away for a few days.

Ideally, they would've liked to spend their holidays abroad, however the pandemic they were currently in made that a bit difficult.

"What about camping?" Emmett asked casually, eyes still on the screen.

"Um, no."

Emmett, surprised by how quickly Travis had come to that conclusion, looked up at him, "Why not?"

"When I said I wanted a vacation I meant a nice, relaxing resort or hotel near the sea not the woods," Travis complained.

"Well do you have any better ideas? You know, considering the pandemic and all," Emmett replied. They had been sitting there for an hour trying to come up with something and had gotten nowhere, there seemed to be some sort of limitation for every idea.

"Yes!" Travis exclaimed, serious for a few seconds until his face dropped into a pout and said, "No, no I don't."

Emmett laughed, shaking his head at his boyfriend "You know... the last time I went camping two people got attacked by a bear," Travis reminded him.

"Yeah, I'm so glad I wasn't on that trip," Emmett laughed, lucky to have joined the fire station a few weeks later.

"Are we seriously settling on going camping? I mean, no toilets, no electricity, no internet. Not to mention it's uncomfortable sleeping in a tent."

"But you'll be with me."

"Ok fine. On two conditions though, we make smores and cuddle in the tent."

"Deal," Emmett agreed, smiling at his boyfriend's antics.

"Ok I think we're almost there, get the map out so we can find that spot we picked out."

Emmett reached back and rummaged through one of the many bags they had packed full of things they probably wouldn't even touch. "Oh no."

Travis flipped his head around to look at Emmett, saying "Please don't tell me you forgot the map."

Emmett gave him a guilty look, saying "I swear I packed everything. I'll try look it up on my phone."

"We're not gonna have any signal over here." Travis sighed, parking the car. He rested his head on the steering wheel, letting out a fake cry.

"Ok, ok, we'll figure something out. We can just start walking and find a decent spot," Emmett rambled, annoyed their trip already had a rough start.

As they walked along the path, not wanting to deviate too far from their car due to having no map, they looked for a spot to take post.

"Do you recognise any landmarks from the photos we saw of this place?" Travis asked.

"I don't know, all the trees look the same," Emmett shrugged.

Travis turned to look at Emmett, shaking his head at how useless the both of them were at navigating through the woods without a map.

"You know, at least I didn't forget the food or some—" Emmett started until he felt himself falling forward, grasping Travis' arm to stop himself from falling face first.

"What the — are you ok?" Travis asked as he helped him get back to his feet whose boots were now covered in mud.

"I'm ok, I didn't realise the mud was covering up a slope," Emmett replied hastily as he looked down at his legs covered in mud. He looked up at Travis who had gone from being concerned to trying not to laugh. "Oh this is going so well," the blonde said sarcastically.

"Am I allowed to say I told you so?" Travis smirked back at him.

As the sun started to set, Travis and Emmett had set up their tent in a quiet place and arranged all their belongings. They began picking up some wood to set up a campfire near their tent.

Suddenly, they head loud music coming from a few metres away.

"Oh no, not teenagers," Travis grumbled as he caught a glimpse of a few young girls setting up a tent in the distance.

"Looks like they had the same idea as us," Emmett shrugged.

"Did they seriously have to come so close to us? Now we have to listen to this obnoxious music on our trip!"

"I hate this music as much as you do," Emmett replied, wishing they had picked literally any other place to put their tent.

Travis froze, suddenly hearing loud moans coming from one of the tents in the distance, coming to a realisation of what he was hearing.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"If anything is going to make this trip any better it's smores." Travis said as he brought the sticks and marshmallows over to the campfire, sitting next to Emmett on one of their blankets.

Emmett smiled, resting his head on Travis' shoulder. "Hey, at least it's a bit less noisy now," he added, while holding his marshmallow over the fire.

"I have to admit, this definitely tops my last camping trip. We didn't even have marshmallows last time." "What is with your obsession with smores?" Emmett laughed, finding his boyfriend awfully cute when he complained about the smallest things.

"Hey, when we're out in the woods, miles away from our warm, comforting home I like to have something that's warm and comforting ok?" Travis replied playfully, kissing Emmett as they laid down, looking up at the stars.

"Is that a constellation? It looks a bit like a horse." Emmett said, finally feeling more relaxed.

"I'm pretty sure you didn't discover a new constellation babe," Travis looked at Emmett beside him, admiring his beauty under the starry sky.

"True, it might just be my imagination," Emmett chuckled.

"Do you hear that? A rustling noise," Travis said as he sat upright once again, looking around. Upon further inspection, he noticed what seemed to be a small raccoon piercing holes in a familiar set of boxes, rummaging for food.

"Oh my god what do we do? It's taking our food!" Travis shouts as he realises what it was doing.

"What?" Emmett exclaimed as he quickly got up too. "Oh shit, this is bad."

Thankful that they had remembered to pack all their comfortable blankets and pillows to make the sleeping bag in the tent more cosy, they entered the tent at around midnight. Travis cuddled up against Emmett, trying to conserve as much body heat as they could.

Every few minutes or so, Emmett would hear noises from outside, and flinched slightly each time.

Travis, realising that each noise was scaring Emmett, held him more tightly and said, "This was to be expected, considering we are quite literally in nature and all."

"I know, I know, I keep thinking some sort of creature's going to come get us. I probably shouldn't have watched Friday the 13th that night with Vic before we came here."

"You probably shouldn't have," Travis chuckled as he opened his eyes to look at Emmett. "So a raccoon took half of our food, there are a bunch of loud teenagers having sex across from us, and we'll probably get lost finding our way back to our car tomorrow morning."

"Maybe we should cut the trip short and just book an afternoon at a spa resort tomorrow," Emmett admitted that they did indeed encounter some obstacles.

"Good idea," Travis smiled.

"You still had fun though right? We did meet both your conditions - smores and cuddles in the tent," Emmett winked as he ran his fingers through Travis' hair.

"Of course I did - how can I not enjoy myself when I'm with you?" Travis replied, closing his eyes as he rested against the younger man.

[shouldntcryoverit]

the art of discordance

captain rex x jedi fic during clones wars era...

CHAPTER TWO

Pure chaos resonated as the small team fought to overcome the controls. The panic bubbling over from the separatist attack didn’t diminish as the smaller ship shot through lightspeed, leaving three half crazed jedi, a few clones, and one injured general.

“Turn the power back on! Turn it on!” Jaida yelled into the cockpit. The victory of avoiding the burning sun they were previously on course to crash straight into was short lived as they swerved dangerously close to another planet.

“I’m... trying!” Aayla groaned, hand outstretched to the lever. It clunked downwards and Jaida, Rex and Aayla fell to the floor with a heavy thud.

The ship plummeted towards the ground, having lost all control over the engines. Smoke encased them through a straight course at least an inch into the growth, leaving a scorched dent in their path. The clones and jedi scrambled to get out the burning wreckage of the ship, though when they all collapsed in relief, they found their situation to be no better.

Anakin was in a bad condition, one that looked to be deteriorating quickly. Ahsoka and Jaida carried him to rest under a makeshift tent, but the young padawan didn’t move as he lay unconscious. Jaida watched with concerned eyes, for her friend yes, but also for the young togruta that shuffled anxiously. The pair hadn’t spoken much; Ahsoka had spent her time training or at the temple whereas Jaida remained very much rooted in battle rooms, but the times they did spend with each other Jaida found the kid’s attitude refreshing. She knew why Anakin spoke so highly of her.

“he’ll be okay kid” Rex reassured. Ahsoka nodded solemnly and sighed, walking forward to talk over her master.

“Jaida and Rex will watch over you, be strong master” the togruta uttered, before resuming her position beside the knights.

The two watched as the rest of the group ran off into the tall grass, leaving them to stand in silence.

Jaida let out a shaky breath as she folded onto the ground, Anakins feet in front of her.

Rex spoke first “he will be okay, sir” it was an attempt to reassure her, though she had not admitted she was worried.

Her response was another huff of breath, followed by a hand running through her hair.

“Anakin has always had the ability to bounce back from injuries, it seems even his body is too stubborn to stop fighting” her words fell heavy as she watched her friend’s chest rise and fall slowly.

Rex’s smile settled “you care more than you let on, don’t you?”

Her eyes lifted from Anakin’s form and met his in a rigid glare. Rex regretted his boldness instantly, but her eyes softened in admission.

“i saw your order” he continued bravely “the men wondered were it all came from” he was referring to the extra order of cotten blankets she had placed a week previously. Rex assumed it was out of compassion as she realised the coldness of the Resolute.

“good, men work better if they actually manage a decent night sleep” She got up and brushed herself down, peaking her head around the corner to check for any signs. Rex felt a twinge in his stomach of her disregard; her kind act now seemed tainted as nothing more than a battle strategy, and it left a bad taste on his tongue.

Rex took a moment actually size up the new general. Her robes were similar to Skywalker’s, but they fitted her form more. She wore black boots and gloves up to her elbow, her collarbone hidden with the same material. Her hair was lighter in the sun, but Rex could still see the way it framed her face and fell loosely from its plaited hold. Her face was still set in that expression of neutrality, though it broke slightly as the hint of serenity curved her alluring lips. Her eyes were young and bright, full of a mixture of gold and blue.

Before she could say anything else, a roar broke the silence, followed by the pounding footsteps of two animals.

Rex shot up, blasters ready, and Jaida ignited her duel blade. They shared a look of panic, before they each dove away to block or attack whatever strike came at them.

After quite some struggle, the pair had overcome their attackers, and the two animals lay dead on the ground. Before the interruption, Jaida had felt a new sense of gratitude towards the captain. That maybe she had misjudged his professionalisms and could enjoy his company further than what protocol dictated. It was when Rex propped himself up that Anakin groaned awake. At the noise, Jaida hurried to his aid.

“Anakin! You okay?” she helped him sit up. He groaned once more and faultered against his injuries.

“this mission- sucks” he managed. As he came to, the surroundings became clearer. “you look like hell”

“always a charmer” she grinned as he helped him up.

“what happened to the others?” Skywalker quizzed

“the went to look for help, actually they should be back soon.”

“so we don’t have a ship, communication or supplies, great” Anakin grumbled

“negativity doesn’t suit you”

“you got a better outlook?” before Jaida could reply to his question, the rest of their team stumbled out of the grass, along with a new companion.

By the time it took to take Anakin back to the village, his condition had deteriorated. Jaida couldn’t budge the irrational feeling in her stomach, but held face as Ahsoka trudged next to her.

“I understand staying neutral, but really? i mean you gotta have an opinion at least!” she ranted

“some people just don’t care about what doesn’t involve them” Jaida countered absentmindedly

“selfish”

“perhaps”

They made it to the village, and despite the old chief’s disgruntled disagreement they were allowed to seek refuge. It was no retreat, that was for certain, but Ahsoka for one felt entirely more secure knowing that her master was getting the medical attention he so desperately needed.

He was whisked away by the village medic almost as soon as they arrived, and the three Jedi left remained cautious of theyre situation.

Time passed, with Ahsoka helping a few villagers carry out daily tasks, and Jaida scouting the near area; it actually felt like time had stopped. There was a peacefulness that none of the visitors had experience in such a long time, for clones maybe never. Rex had never been able to sit and watch as children laughed and played, without thinking about how he should escape if need be. It was tranquil and calm, and it made Rex think.

When Jaida returned, she returned quickly.

“Ahsoka! Tell Aayla we’re gonna have company!” her shouted alerted the relaxed captain into a far more rigid standing.

“who is it?” Bly questioned with furrowed brows

“seppies”

—————————————————-

Everytime she looked his way there was something that sparked, or snapped maybe - he wasn’t sure. It wasn’t anything good, but he doubted that it was hate. Rex just couldn’t stand the feeling he gave her. So he figured he couldn’t stand her.

It was no different now as the pair waited behind the stacks of nut pods for the enemy to near. A plan had been formulated after they left the village so quickly, and by seeing the extent ifthe seperatist forces it was no wonder they had scrambled to do so. Jaida had already irked him today, by seeming so unbothered by the idea of a new ion canon, one that was able to wipe out all organic matter.

His distractions dissipated when the first shot flew past his head. That was certainly enough to wipe his mind. He ducked behind a pod and began shooting, knocking droids down like a pin ball game at 79s.

The disctractions, those that humanised into the form of a woman standing of few metres to his left, seemed to have a mind of their own. Jaida slunked away from her position, and walked straight out into the battlefield. Rex grinded his teeth as she put away her lightsaber. He had to remind himself that yes she was putting herself in unecessary danger, and that no, that wasn’t what he was angry about.

“im sure your a smart man” Jaida called out, hands calmly behind her back “there’s certainly a more pleasant way to deal with situations” the words fell fruitlessly off her tongue.

“what’s she doing?” Bly muttered with spite, though Aayla dismissed his question with a wave of her hand.

“don’t try to trick me, jedi”

“there is no trick. You are the one with canon of course” she smiled coldly at the separatist, patronism seeping through her tone “although, if we do manage to reach an agreement, your day might just turn out swell”

“was that a threat?!” the hast in his voice caused a loud clunk to be heard as the droids aimed they’re guns once more.

“nope” Jaida said, popping the ‘p’, just before a clankers took a shot, and she dodged it. Perfectly.

It looked like some sort of game on the holonet, Jaida avoiding each bullet carelessly and without struggle, as if they bent around her path instead. She reached a safe distance, and smiled pleasantly, reaching into a pocket behind her back and drawing a small explosive. She threw it into the canon opening, and the problem was solved with a rattling boom.

Her solution did work, but Rex still kept a stern look. Even when the support ships finally rescued them.

He kept it until she rested beside him, both standing against a wall bored and tired.

“you look tired” he commented

“hm” Jaida’s eyes never left the datapad she was staring at. “you should get some rest too, it’s been a long few days” she deliberated carelessly. When the captain didn’t reply she turned her head to face him.

“what is it?”

The captain tittered antagonisingly “why is it that you always have to go off script?”

Jaida looked at him with a more confused look than anger.

“i saved those villagers, you know that was my only intention?” her tone was clear, informative.

“you do never fail to keep battles interesting” Rex quipped

“i think i’ll take that as a compliment” she grimaced

“perhaps you should”

She spoke after a moment of pregnant silence. “captain if there’s something you have to say i suggest you say it”

“with all due respect, you ought to realise that you have a responsibility to your men, to yourself even” he began after a beat.

“it isn’t something i’ve failed to notice”

“you brash, careless- you act like you have nothing to loose”

“we’re fighting a war” Jaida countered

“and we don’t need anymore casualties than we already have” Rex’s voice was no longer as angry as it began, now growing colder as exasperation clawed at his tired mind.

Rex paused, taking a deep breath of his own and trying to rid himself of his own irrational and unprofessional nags.

“i am not a liability, you need to trust me” she was stern now. It wasn’t that the captain had irked her, his anger came from a very real place, but she was just annoyed that she couldn’t find the words to calm it.

“and you need to trust that we know what we’re doing, even without your last minute strategies”

Silence. Jaida clicked her tongue, acceptance though Rex didn’t know to recognise it.

“goodnight general”

She locked eyes with him once more. A second passed, before he left her in silence.

He didn’t hate her. That he knew for sure.

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

hope you liked this let me know if you want to be tagged in next chapters! :))

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@pinkiemme

[lihikainanea]

When tiger’s appendix goes KABOOM

In this one we go back--way back--to before these two idiots ever boinked, when they were just best friends. Because even when they were just that, Bill still took such sweet, doting care of tiger and never once expected anything in return and I am just so in love with that concept. Good ole gentle, caretaker, GOOD DUDE BILL y’know? we all need one.

Trigger warnings: Let’s all stay safe, kids. There’s some medical stuff in this one. Needles, some surgery. Nothing in too graphic detail but that’s not for me to judge. If you’re really quite terrified of needles, there’s only one part and I can remove it and send you another version if you’d like to read <3

This is all for you, sweet purple heart nani.

***

It took you a second to realize why you had woken up, what had roused you from your deep sleep. But the minute you inhaled—you felt it. A small tug, nothing more than a dull ache, low in your abdomen. You winced, breathing through it—but then just as fast as it had started, it faded away.

You were settling in again, pulling the blankets back up around you when the wave of nausea hit. You groaned, hunching in a little bit, trying to grit your teeth through it. It was probably just a bit too much alcohol—camping trips with friends were always like that, and given that these were Bill’s Swedish friends, liquor a little stronger than you were used to flowed a little faster, a little easier, a little heavier, and you hadn’t held back.

It had only been two days, but it was two days filled with a bit of gluttony and a lot of some kind of Swedish spirit that didn’t seem fit for human consumption. Bill took a camping trip every year in the country side of Sweden with his friends, and this year he had insisted you join in—he knew your love of forests, your love of nature and swimming in lakes, your fondness for sleeping under the stars.

“You’ve never seen anything like it kid,” he promised, “You’ll love it. The nights are cool, the days are warm, the sun never sets. It’s paradise. And we can even visit my family after, when we get back to civilisation.”

“Are there bears?” You asked, skeptically.

“There are no bears,” he lied, but you crossed your arms and glared at him.

“There are some bears,” he admitted, “But I’ll put my tent right next to yours. A few of the guys are real experienced woodsmen. You’ll be safe, I promise.”

“I don’t have any real camping gear,” you tried. He smiled—you were giving in, and he knew it.

“I have a ton in Sweden,” he said, “We’ll take some of my brothers’ shit.”

You sighed. It did sound fun, but there’s no way you’d let him know that.

“Fine, I guess,” you said, “But if I get eaten by a bear, I’ll be super fucking mad at you.”

He had squeezed you tight then, picked you up and spun you around.

“You’re going to love it kid,” he said with a noisy kiss on your cheek.

And he was right—the countryside of Sweden was beautiful. The sun was permanently shining yet it never seemed too warm, it lacked all of the sticky, debilitating humidity that you were used to, and Bill’s Swedish friends were a good group. All ridiculously tall, all blue eyed, everyone on the trip looked like varying shades of the same person. They were easy going, they loved to laugh, they loved to eat, and they loved to drink. And they certainly loved to make you drink.

You thought you had done alright, and you weren’t dizzy or nauseous when Bill had walked you back to your tent. But now hours later, you felt like someone was stabbing you deep in your gut, at random intervals. When the pain dissipated you felt nothing, no remnants of it, but then it would come back and slam into you. You gasped as another wave hit, groaning when the nausea bubbled in your stomach. Kicking your sleeping bag back, you hunched over as you stumbled out of your tent. Walking a few feet to Bill’s, you scratched at it to warn him of your presence before you unzipped it slowly.

“Tiger,” he said sleepily, raising his head as he blinked up at you, “Are you okay?”

“I don’t feel so good bud,” you said quietly, “Can I sleep in here?”

He was already unzipping his sleeping bag, pushing it down and giving you room to crawl in.

“What’s wrong?” He whispered as you crawled in. You did it slowly, gingerly, settling on your back and looking up at him as he hovered over you.

“It’s my stomach,” you groaned as another stabbing pain hit, “This is death, for sure.”

“Is it your period?”

“No Bill, it’s death,” you sighed, relaxing a bit as the pain subsided, “It’s intermittent. But when it hits, fucking kill me.”

His gaze swept over you, looking for any obvious signs of something wrong.

“Do you want to take something for it?” He asked. But you shook your head.

“No, it’s fine,” you grumbled, “But maybe…maybe just my heating pad?”

You smiled up at him pleadingly, and he let out a small chuckle. Lying back down, he blew a few puffs of hot air on his hand before he reached down, rucking your shirt up a tad and pressing his hand to your stomach. You sighed in relief, and he curled back up beside you.

“This okay?” He asked, giving your stomach a small pat. 

“Yeah bud,” you said, “Thanks.”

“Wake me up if it gets worse,” he laid a soft kiss on your cheek, “Goodnight, kid.”

“Goodnight big guy.”

And with the heat radiating off him, with the small weight of his hand pushing in to your abdomen, you were finally able to get back to a restful sleep.

But the next morning, the nausea was tenfold. Waking up, it was the first thing you felt the minute your eyes opened—crippling, dizzying nausea. Groaning loudly, you clenched your teeth together as you fought off the urge to vomit.

“Whoa, easy kid,” you heard his raspy, deep voice behind you as he roused from sleep, “Just breathe.”

Groaning again as the wave intensified, you cussed as you balled your fist in the sleeping bag and clenched your eyes shut so tight they watered. You felt him move behind you, try to slip out without jostling you too much.

“Tiger hey, listen to me,” he said as you saw a shadow crouch in front of you, “Just try and take a deep breath.”

“I’m gonna throw up,” you moaned, curling in further on yourself. Your forehead had broken out in a cold sweat, your hair sticking to it as Bill brushed it back to try and get a better look at your face. His brow furrowed in concern when he finally did—you were grey, ashen, a sickly pallor to your skin.

“Just throw up if you have to,” he coaxed, “You’ll feel better.”

“No,” you said stubbornly, but then another wave of nausea hit you when the last one had barely subsided and you whimpered. “Oh fuck.”

“You’re okay,” he soothed, running his thumb along your cheek, “Are you in pain?”

“No pain,” you grunted out, “Just…oh fuck.”

You felt your stomach lurch, and you moved frantically and clumsily to unzip the sleeping bag. He helped you get it open, steadying you as you clambered to your feet and wobbled. Knowing where you were headed, he bolted to the tent and unzipped it as you hobbled out, trying to locate the most private place where your body could violently rid itself of whatever it was trying to get out. Moaning in pain, you stumbled before Bill grabbed your elbow and pulled you a few feet away behind a few trees. With one hand around your arm to hold you up, the other one grabbed on to the back of your sweat-soaked neck and bent you at the waist. You groaned but there was no stopping it anymore and you lurched, emptying the contents of your stomach and narrowly missing his feet. He held you up as you wretched, steadying you until you seemed like you were done. Still hunched over with your hands on your knees, a bottle of water appeared in front of your face.

“Rinse your mouth out,” he said softly, and you did. Swigging a gulp, you swirled it around before you spat it out. Taking the water bottle from you, he handed you a small towel next.

“Wipe,” he said, and you grabbed it from him and pressed it to your face, exhaling deeply with exertion. His hand rubbed your back soothingly, pulling softly on your shoulder as you tried to stand back upright.

“Thanks bud,” you mumbled, embarrassed and exhausted, “That was dramatic.”

“Are you okay?” He asked, and you saw the concern etched on his face. You reached for the water bottle again, doing another rinse out.

“Yeah,” you took a deep breath, noting the ache in your gut and the nausea has dissipated, “I feel…better. Much better, actually.”

“It was probably something you ate,” he said, “Take it easy today, okay? Nothing too heavy.”

He tucked you under his arm as you walked back to the tents.

“What the hell is in that akvavit anyway?” You grumbled.

“Nothing good kid, I can promise you that,” he chuckled.

He walked you back to the tents to change, before you joined everyone by the campfire a few metres away. The smell of bacon hit your nostrils on the way, and your stomach grumbled as you drooled.  When you reached the group, someone handed you a plate and you promptly mounded it with everything you could find—eggs, bacon, sausages blistered by the fire, toast smeared with butter, and you added a few wild strawberries to your plate just for good measure. Sitting down on a tree stump, you settled the dish on your knees—but then a hand swooped in, grabbing the plate and replaced it with a pitiful one containing only one sad piece of dry toast and a few berries.

“Hey!” You cried and reached for your original plate, but Bill just moved out of your reach. Ruffling your hair, he sat down beside you.

“You just hurled your guts out kid,” he said, “Take it slow. Thanks for the plate, though.”

With a smirk he stabbed his fork in, devouring the perfect plate that you had made for yourself. You grumbled, taking a small bite of your toast.

“Are you going to be okay for the hike today?” He asked, “Because we can hang back if you’re not feeling up to it.” You drooled at the slice of bacon he crunched into, looking at it longingly. He took pity on you, picking up a small piece of it and putting it on your plate. You grabbed at it greedily.

“Yeah it’ll be fine,” you said, “I’m already feeling better.”

“Hey,” he rested a hand on your forearm squeezing lightly to grab your attention, “Are you sure you’re okay kid? You were really gray this morning.”

You smiled at him, patting his hand lightly.

“Yeah bud I’m okay,” you murmured, “I really think it was something I ate. But thank you, for your help this morning. I know that was pretty gross.”

He smiled, nodding once in understanding. You reached up and tugged playfully on one of his longer locks of hair, before swiping another piece of bacon from his dish as he scolded you. You shrugged, unapologetic.

And it had gone okay, at first. There was a cool breeze in the air that abated the heat of the sun, the trail wasn’t too difficult, and the group was walking at a slow enough pace that you were able to keep up. But as Bill climbed a rock in front of you, crouching down and extending his hand to help pull you up, when you reached the top you doubled over as a stabbing pain hit low in your stomach.

“Fuck,” you cussed, pressing down into your abdomen. Bill’s hand was on your back in a flash, trying to pull you slowly back upright. You let him, but then another pain hit that crumpled your knees and you kneeled.

“Whoa kid,” he said, and when the group stopped he turned and said something in Swedish to them. With weary gazes, they nodded and turned, continuing the hike.

You cussed again as you pressed a few fingers down into the spot where you felt the pain, and it alleviated it a tad.

“Tiger what’s going on?” He asked, concerned. He brushed the hair back from your forehead as you breathed out a sigh in relief, keeping your fingers pressed in to the spot that hurt. You started to stand, and he grabbed your arms to help you up.

“I don’t know,” you said, “I just got a stabbing pain in my gut. It feels almost like a pulled muscle.”

He placed his hand over yours, pulling your shirt up a bit to see if there was any obvious signs of something wrong. Passing a few fingers gently over your skin, it didn’t seem like anything was amiss—there was no bump, no heat radiating from the area, nothing.

“I think maybe I pulled something when I was heaving this morning,” you shrugged, pulling your shirt back down.

“It was rather…enthusiastic,” he said, but his gaze still held a fair bit of worry, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nodded, wincing a bit as the pain returned when you stopped pressing on the area. But within a few seconds, it had dissipated again. You made to keep walking on the trail, but Bill put a hand on your elbow and pulled you back gently.

“Tiger if this keeps up, I’m taking you to the clinic when we visit my family,” he said. You nodded gently.

“I’m okay bud,” you reassured him, “It was just a tiring morning. And doesn’t food poisoning last for a few days anyway? My system just needs to recover, that’s all.”

He wasn’t convinced, but neither were you. The nagging pain stayed in your abdomen, low and seemingly isolated to just one side, throughout the rest of the hike. It was pulling, a dull ache that intensified with the wrong movement, and it was probably bad enough to stop and head back but you were stubborn and the scenery was beautiful. When the nausea kicked in during the small reprieve from the pains, it took everything you had not to slow the group down. The trail was spinning around you, your stomach churning on itself as you just focused on putting one foot in front of the other. When the lake came into view it was a small miracle, the cool water and the weightlessness of it easing some of your strife.

It had eased a bit again towards the night, the nausea subsiding slightly when you had some food in your stomach, but you refused the bottle of alcohol making its way around the campfire. Bill disappeared into the food tent for a few minutes, emerging with some soda water and a lemon. Popping the top of the can, he held out his hand for your knife—which you untucked from your bra and handed to him—before carving a thin slice of lemon, pushing it through the opening of the can and handing it to you.

“Sleep in my tent tonight, okay?” He asked lowly so the group wouldn’t hear, wiping the knife clean on a spare towel. “I want to keep an eye on you.”

You weren’t about to fight him on it. And you didn’t have much clout to do so, because by the time the early morning rolled around—the sun having barely set before rising again—the exhaustion of the day had taken over, and you were already asleep on his shoulder. You heard his soft rumblings in Swedish, heard the final crackle of the campfire as one of his friends stomped it out, and then you were gently being lifted. A sturdy arm around your back, another one under your knees and then you were being pressed into a warm chest, a soft kiss in your hair, as he brought you to his tent.

The sleep was a welcome reprieve, his comforting presence even more so. You snuggled into him during the night, waking briefly to turn over and burrow into a warm chest, an arm snaking around your waist to hold you tighter, and in the blissful state of dreams you felt no pain.

And it had seemed better the next day, perhaps alleviated by the fact that you knew you didn’t have a choice. You were heading to his family’s compound that afternoon—the ferry ride wasn’t long but it was a bit tedious, and you knew that you couldn’t hide or be alone if the pain started to get too bad. You popped a few Tylenol beforehand, probably a few more than Bill would have approved of, but it was necessary. And it proved to be effective, for the first time in a long time the ache in your side just seemed to disappear. 

There was only one sharp, stabbing white-hot flash of agony as you tried to haul your suitcase from the trunk of his car once you arrive—a bolt shocking enough to buckle your knees, but you cussed and quickly caught yourself on the trunk. Alarmed, Bill rushed to you and you waved him off as you stood…and somehow, the pain dissolved as quickly as it had come on.

“I just wrenched it wrong,” you jutted your head to the suitcase, “Fuck, maybe this whole thing was just a pulled muscle after all.”

You had almost convinced yourself.

Until it started to intensify again, a pain low in your side that seemed to radiate across a much bigger surface now. The nausea had subsided in favour of just the consistent pain, a constant knife in your lower abdomen, and you tried to breathe through it. It eased someone when you pressed down hard against it, but the minute you eased the pressure the pain was back tenfold, strong enough to buckle your knees.

It got to be too much one night, one evening where you were sure Bill’s entire family heard your gasping breaths, your laughter that always seemed to hide just a small scream whenever your abdomen moved. You finally gave up when the pain became too constant and too intense, and you feigned a yawn while clutching tightly to your right side to alleviate some of the sharp ache.

“I’m done bud,” you leaned over to Bill, patting his hand lightly. “I’m going to bed.”

“You sure you’re feeling okay tiger?” He asked, and you managed a smile.

“Fine bud, just jet lag and the whole food poisoning bit is taking a toll.”

“I’ll walk you back,” he rose, but you shoved him back down lightly.

“It’s right back here Bill, it’s fine,” you told him. The Skarsgard compound was made up of a few small houses, cabins really with a few rooms each, one for each of the kids whenever they came to visit. He nodded apprehensively, but you kissed his cheek and said goodnight to his family before making your way to his cabin. You clutched your side the whole way, pausing briefly when the urge to throw up took over, and when you finally made it in you closed the door behind you and leaned on it. Lifting your shirt, you looked down—the entire right side of your abdomen had started to bulge, started to protrude a bit, and you passed your hand over it in worry. It was hot to the touch, definitely swollen, but you knew first hand how much a bad bout of food poisoning could take its toll. Sighing, you made your way to one of the bedrooms and curled up into bed—positioning a pillow so that it kept constant pressure on your abdomen, and with some of the pain subsiding, you drifted off. You didn’t even hear Bill come home, didn’t hear him come into the room to check on you, didn’t even feel his fingers brushing back some hair from your face as he bent to kiss your forehead.

It was the best sleep you had all week, until you rolled over. When the constant pressure of your pillow eased off your stomach you jolted awake, stopping the scream right as it clawed through your throat. You bunched the sheets in your fist, trying not to tear them apart as you buried your face in your pillow and yelled in agony.

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

Grunting, you jammed your fist into your side—for some reason pressure really seemed to help— and tried to untangle the blankets. It was only then that you realized you were sweating—your sheets were soaked, your pyjamas drenched, and your body shook with a fever. You tried to stand but crumpled immediately, so you started to crawl. You needed Bill. You needed help, of some kind, and Bill could get it for you.

Dragging your body across the floor you stopped, laying face down on it, as nausea took over and clouded your vision. Fighting against it you heaved forward, but you just couldn’t. Bill’s room was down the corridor, and you couldn’t even make it to your own door before your vision started to go black. So you did the only thing you could do.

You screamed for him.

Your throat dry and sore, acid bubbling from your stomach, you screamed his name over and over. Part of it was to make sure he heard you, but part of it was just an outlet for the intense pain you were in. You collapsed forward, curling in on your side as you sobbed.

“Bill,” you cried, much lower and barely audible now, as black dots speckled your vision.

Thunderous footsteps shook the floor, you heard his bare feet skid on the hardwood, and then you heard his voice.

“Oh my god, tiger,” he muttered, and you fought to stay conscious. You were so relieved that you just wanted to let it all go but you had to stay with him, had to try and tell him what was wrong so he could get you help.

Green eyes, clear and alarmed, broke through the tunnel vision and you sobbed as his hand rested on your forehead.

“It’s your stomach again?” He asked, “You’re burning up kid.”

He pushed you over onto your back and pulled your shirt up as you writhed.

“Oh fuck,” he cussed lowly when he saw your abdomen, badly swollen on the right hand side, bright red on the lower half. Pulling your shirt down he looped his arm under your knees, the other one around your back.

“I’m sorry tiger,” he breathed, “But this might hurt.”

In one fluid motion he grabbed you and stood with you in his arms, but it jostled your stomach and you grabbed tight hold of his shirt, trying to hold back the shout.

“Just scream if you have to kid,” he said, “I’m sorry.”

And then he took off running. Down the steps, out the door, back to the main house on the grounds. You held on as best you could, fading in and out of consciousness as he sprinted to his mom. Once there he threw his shoulder into the door and it flew open—nobody locked their doors around there—and then he was yelling in Swedish. Swedish always sounded a little frantic to you, but even you could hear the panic in his voice.

He set you down as gently as he could on the kitchen table and then his mom appeared in her nightgown, pushing him out of the way. You were always struck at how much he resembled his mother, all kind eyes and gentle hands, but he also had her lines of severity—the seriousness in her face, the crease in her brow as she inched your shirt up.

Bill stood at your head, kissing your forehead and weaving his hands in your hair.

“Just stay with me kid,” he murmured to you, and then more Swedish to his mom. When a worried sibling, one of his much younger ones, popped their heads around the corner, she said something to him and you only caught one name—Sam. The kid took off at full speed out the front door.

She passed her hand over your stomach, pressing down oh so gently on the lower right side, and for a second—you breathed a sigh of relief. That helped ease the pain.

But then she removed her hand, and you couldn’t even stop the blood curdling scream that tore through you. Bill grabbed your arms as you lurched forward, trying to comfort you as you sobbed.

A deeper voice came in then, more Swedish, and you blinked as Sam came into view. All of the siblings looked like shades of the same person, and for a second you thought you had double vision—until Bill tilted your head up towards him, stroking your cheek.

“You’re okay tiger,” he said as he came into your line of sight, but god he looked so worried himself. “You’re in good hands.”

Sam was a man of few words, but some very telling facial expressions. Lifting your shirt gently, he quirked a brow and his lips tilted up in a small smirk—the smirk that came with a decade of being an ER doctor and having seen it all, the smirk that yes this was an emergency but he was nowhere near out of his depth, and then he looked to his mom and said the only Swedish word you recognized.

“Ja,” he said. Yes.

And then it was a flurry of activity. Bill held you down on the table, his cell phone at his ear as his mom fetched a medical bag. She handed it to Sam, who started digging through it.

“Bill…” you started to panic, “What’s happening?”

He was talking, dictating, seemingly giving instructions.

“Bill…” you started to squirm, your tone a little more shrill—and then he hung up, moving to your side so you could see him. 

“Tiger listen to me,” he commanded, and you had never heard him use such a harsh tone of voice before, “They think your appendix burst.”

“They what,” you shrieked, and you tried to sit up but suddenly there were a lot of hands gently pushing you back down. You slammed your back onto the table, yelling and reaching for Bill’s hand as another searing pain cut through your abdomen.

“There’s no way,” your grunted through the pain.

“My brother knows what he’s talking about kid,” Bill said, “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

Sam said something in Swedish then, and Bill turned to him. You saw him stiffen immediately, and when you craned your neck to see around him, you knew why. Sam had an IV bag, a syringe on a butterfly clip, and he was explaining something to Bill—but if Bill had hackles, they would have raised then and there. He asked a question, his tone seemingly harsh, and Sam just gave a regretful small smile and a shrug. You lurched for Bill, grabbing on to his arm.

“No,” you said forcefully, “Bill, no. Tell him fucking—”

He leaned over you, grabbing your face in his hands. Your cheeks were wet with tears, and his eyes bore into yours.

“Tiger, faint,” he commanded.

“What?” You sniffled.

“Pass out,” he commanded harshly again, “You’re going to be okay, I promise.”

“I don’t want the needle Bill,” you sobbed, starting to see spots, “No needles please—”

“Now tiger,” he snapped, and he kept a tight hold of your face, “You need the drugs in that bag to keep you alive until we get to the hospital, and it’ll be easier if you just fucking faint.”

“No, I don’t want—” you begged, but your vision was already starting to tunnel again. Bill sighed, closed his eyes, steeling his nerves for his next move. If you weren’t going to listen to him, if you weren’t at least going to try to help, then he had other tactics. You’d be madder than hell, but you would be alive—and that’s all that mattered.

“I’m sorry, please don’t hate me,” he whispered to you. You had started to push back against him, but he held your face in front of his.

“That needle is big, tiger,” he lied, “It’s fucking huge. And you can stay awake for it as he jams it in, which will hurt like hell because it’s long and has to stab through the muscle of your abdomen—”

You whimpered, your vision dotting again at just the thought, as fear and terror took over. You clutched desperately at his shirt as you sobbed.

“Why are you—”

“It’s not going in your arm or in your leg or anywhere pleasant kid. That huge ass needle has to go straight through your torso and stay there, and you’ll feel every ounce of it unless you just—”

You went limp on the table, your eyes rolling back as your vision went black.

“….pass out,” Bill sighed. He turned and nodded to his brother, who inserted the IV into your arm as the wailing of the sirens could be heard in the distance. Bill knew that as long as you were conscious, there was no way his brother was getting near you with the needle—but he also knew that a burst appendix was critical, and that you needed to be stabilized immediately.

You came to briefly in the ambulance, opening your eyes to see the foggy vision of Bill’s face, worried, hovering over yours. His thumb gently stroked your eyebrow and he gave you a small smile, mumbled some words that you couldn’t make out. You lifted your hand to tug on the mask covering your nose and mouth but he intercepted it, kissing your knuckles before you were taken by blackness again.

You didn’t know how long you were out for, only that it seemed to take awhile to claw your way back to consciousness from the depths of…something. You were drowsy, groggy, things seemingly moving in slow motion as your brain started to clear. You heard the beeping first—annoying, consistent beeping. You didn’t feel the pressure of the oxygen mask on your face, only felt your lungs expanding and decompressing in time with the air being puffed into you. You felt the pinch of a device on your index finger, and then….something warm. A hand, gliding softly up and down your arm. 

And then you heard his voice.

“Hi kid,” it was deeper, raspier than it should have been, and you almost didn’t think it was him. “Go slow, you might be a bit dizzy.”

A soft finger tracing down the bridge of your nose, that warm hand cupping your cheek.

“Open your eyes when you can,” he said, “You’re okay. It’s all okay now.”

Slowly, you peeled your eyes open—your vision was blurry, unfocused, and you blinked a few times to get it back right. You saw his outline, a shadow in your line of sight, as that warm hand continued to stroke your cheek. Your bed moved, a whirring mechanical noise followed, boosting you a bit more upright. Your stomach churned at the movement, and suddenly the oxygen mask felt constricting, felt suffocating. The acid in your gut bubbled.

“You’re okay tiger,” he said as his outline started to become more clear—green eyes, kind but so exhausted, deep bags beneath them. Stubble on his jaw, his entire face tense and creased with worry.

“You scared the hell out of me kid,” he told you, but your breathing started to get a lot more shallow, a lot quicker as your stomach rolled. You reached to tug on the mask as you felt the saliva start to gather in your mouth, but you were uncoordinated and Bill mistook your movements for panic.

“No kid, you have to leave it on,” he said and gently put your hand back at your side, “God tiger, you scared me so much. I thought you were dead. I thought you were dying. And you almost died, you idiot.”

“Bill—“ you groaned in warning, but it was warbled by the mask as you fought to stay conscious. You flailed slowly, drunkenly, trying desperately to point to the sickness bag you saw beside your bed, just out of reach. Bill stood and you had hope, but then he started pacing.

“Your appendix burst, tiger. It fucking exploded. That is not good,” he ranted, “That is really, really NOT good.”

You whined, pointing to the bag and still trying to reach your mask to tug it free.

“Do you know how dangerous that is?” He was on a roll, but he stopped to gently place your hand back at your side again. “You could have died of septic shock or some shit. You were in surgery for 6 fucking hours, kid. They had to vaccuum out all of your guts.”

That definitely didn’t help. And he had just come to stand in front of you when you finally reached your mask, yanking it off with urgency. You had meant to ask for the bag, to yell at him to move, but the minute you opened your mouth—it was too late, and all control was lost. You catapulted forward, throwing up all over him.

Bill stood there, stunned. You looked at him, horrified.

“Right,” he sighed, shaking his head lightly, “They warned me you might do that.”

“Oh my god, Bill,” you looked at him, your cheeks burning with embarassment, “I am so sorry bud.”

“It’s alright,” he said calmly.

“I was trying to warn you,” your eyes clouded with tears, your brain still in a fog. Your tongue felt thick in your mouth as you tried to get the words out.  “I wanted to ask for the bag but I just…it all just…”

“Tiger it’s okay,” he soothed, “Just uh, give me a second okay?”

You nodded, tears falling down your cheeks uncontrollably, and he disappeared into the bathroom in your hospital room. You sighed, easing back onto your pillows—you couldn’t feel any pain, but something in your side was definitely tugging—you ignored it, just trying to focus on getting the room to stop spinning. 

You heard the tap running, and a second later he emerged from the bathroom without his shirt and with a small glass of mouth wash for you.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled again pitifully, but he sat down beside your bed and stroked your cheek, handing you the cup.

“Rinse,” he said. You gulped it back, swishing it around before spitting it back into the cup. He took it from you, sighing as he held your face in his hand. He helped you rest back against the pillow, fluffing it around your head and you grabbed onto his hand to hold it tightly.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“I think so,” you said, your thumb stroking over his knuckles, “What happened, bud?”

“Do you remember anything?” He asked, but you shook your head.

“Nothing past like….going to bed that night, our first night at your family’s place,” you said. He nodded.

“Your appendix ruptured kid,” he said, “They think some time that afternoon, and it was so inflamed by then that you just didn’t feel it until you were already almost in septic shock.”

Your eyes widened, and he tucked some hair behind your ear.

“So it wasn’t food poisoning.”

“No it was something slightly bigger than that,” he chuckled, “You were in surgery for almost a whole day, tiger. They had to clean everything out.”

“That sounds awful,” you grumbled. He smiled sympathetically.

“You’re on some strong painkillers now,” he said, “But you’re going to have a pretty nasty scar from the incision.”

“Oh god,” you groaned, and you started to push the blankets back, “I need to see it.”

“Tiger, maybe you shouldn’t—” he tried to caution, but you were already trying to get the blankets down your legs.

“Turn around,” you told him, and he sighed.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t know if I’m wearing anything under this gown asshole,” you snapped, and he rolled his eyes but turned his back to you.

Pulling your hospital gown up, you tucked the blankets back around your hips and you gasped as you looked down. It put Bill on edge.

“Tiger I’m turning back around,” he said harshly,  “So just cover whatever you don’t want me to see.”

But you were too stunned. A huge incision, a good 5 inches long, cut through your abdomen on your right side, angry and red, but neatly stitched.

“Yeah, that’s a good one,” he sighed. Your mouth still hung open.

“It’s…it’s huge,” you whimpered, “Oh god, that’s going to scar. Fuck, why couldn’t they have used the camera? And only done one or two tiny incisions?”

“Because your appendix exploded tiger,” he emphasized, “They literally had to vacuum out your insides to get rid of all the toxic shit.”

“Stop saying that,” you muttered, “It’s gross.”

You tugged the gown down, leaning back on the bed. The tiredness was starting to hit you again; You still felt a bit loopy, a bit out of sorts with the meds coursing through your body.

“It’s true,” he said with a shrug, and then he softened when you glared at him. “Are you in pain?”

“No,” you said.

“Are you hungry?”

“No,” you sighed, “Just tired.”

You closed your eyes as exhaustion started to take over. Bill reached a hand out, cupping your face and stroking his thumb gently over your cheek. You opened your eyes lazily to peer at him, and he leaned to press a soft kiss your nose.

“You scared the hell out of me tiger,” he murmured. It was quiet, but you heard the fear in it. The slight quiver in his voice, the gravity of it. Your lips tilted up in a sad smile as you brought your hand over his.

“I know,” you told him, “And I’m sorry bud. But thank you. I’d be in real trouble if it weren’t for you.”

He gazed at you for a long moment, his thumb continuing to stroke your cheek almost to reassure himself that you were there, awake, in front of him, and okay. You held his stare, smiling softly at him and reaching up to tug on a longer piece of his hair. But when he flicked your nose playfully as he stood back up, you panicked. You didn’t want him to go.

“Hey bud,” you asked nervously, “You uh, you shouldn’t be driving back this late at night. The roads are dark and—“

“Relax kid,” he saw right through what you were trying to ask, “I’m staying with you.”

You couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped, or just the few tears that followed. It had all been so much—so many days of pain, so much anxiety over it, and the toll that emergency surgery was having on your body and your mind. The thoughts of your incision, how big it was, how it pulled every time you moved. You sniffled, unable to stop it, and Bill just wiped gently at your cheeks.

“Scoot,” he jutted his chin at the bed, and you looked at him confused.

“What?”

“Scoot,” he said again, nudging your hip, “Easy now, we have to do this on your other side.”

He pulled down some of your blankets, rearranged your IV lines so that they wouldn’t catch.

“Bill you won’t fit,” you mumbled, but god you wanted nothing more than to just hug him to you. To have some steady source of comfort, of safety, something good to hold you through the night after all of this turmoil.

“Tiger I don’t fit into most places,” he said as he toed off his shoes, “It never stopped me.”

Sniffling, you started to move to one side of the small hospital bed. You moved gingerly, but you still hissed when the motion was too sudden and it pulled on your stitches. Bill immediately put a hand on your shoulder,  steadying you. You took a few deep breaths, as deep as you could manage, before nodding briefly to him. He helped you move, scooting you over and then he climbed in. He tried not to jostle the bed too much, but he looked ridiculous—his legs sticking out, his wide shoulders trying to cram in on themselves, and you couldn’t help the small chuckle.

“She laughs,” he said with a playful glare, “I save her from imminent death and she laughs.”

“I’m sorry,” you snickered, “I just…sometimes I forget how big you are.”

After some more fidgeting he finally settled, on his back with one leg bent at a sharp angle and the other one completely on your side.

“Alright, come here,” he said, lifting his arm up to make space for you. You shuffled forward gently into him, leaning your head in the crook of his shoulder and putting a hand on his chest. He moved some of your wires and IVs out of the way before wrapping his arm around your back.

“This okay?” He asked, and you threw a leg over his to give him more room.

“Yeah,” you sighed, “It’s perfect.”

“Goodnight kid,” he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “I’ve got promises to keep.”

“And miles to go before I sleep,” you completed your little mantra to each other, patting his chest softly. The silence was comfortable, easy, devoid of any of the strain and strife that the last few days held.

“Bill?” You said, after a few minutes.

“Mmm?”

“Thanks bud,” you murmured as you nuzzled more into him, “For everything.”

“Always.”

[rowanwhitethornisbae]

Liabilities Chapter 4

A/N: Sorry for taking so long for this next update!! Warnings for this are the same as all other chapters. Beware this is heavy chapter! I promise it pretty much goes completely uphill from here. 

liabilities masterlist

Rowan Whitethorn had never been this bored in his entire life. Or at least since 8 o clock, when Aelin had kissed his cheek and abandoned him to suffer through calculus all alone. She had been bouncing on her toes all morning, nervous beyond belief about seeing Lorcan for the first time since they'd slept together. Rowan had tried to calm her nerves while simaltaneously trying not to vomit and the thought of his two friends doing ... well that.

Now, he was sitting in the back of Mr. Faliq's class, doodling aimlessly on the front of his textbook. Math had never been Rowan's best subject anyway. Infact, the only reason he'd taken it was so that he and Aelin might have at least one class together. With her wanting to be a doctor and him wanting to be a lawyer, their senior year courses didnt exactly cross over. Unfourtunately, it hadnt worked out, and Rowan had a whole semester to suffer through whatever this was without his best friend beside him.

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, the bell to signal the end of first period sounded throughout the room. Rowan was out of his seat and across the room before the rest of class had even begun packing their books. Once he was out in the hallway, he felt like he could finally breathe again. Rowan really needed to think about dropping that course, he'd even take art at this point. An image popped into his head of the last thing he'd tried to paint, a picture for Aelin that had turned into more of a brown blob than anything. Laughing, he walked down the hall towards Aelin's class. Students were beginning to pour out of classrooms and he spotted his friends down the hall.

They were standing by Lorcan's locker, the tall male leaning his head against the wall. He looked positively miserable as he toyed with the strap of his bag, doing practicaly anything to avoid Aelin's gaze. Still, she was looking right at him, gesturing wildly with her hands. Rowan hung back for a moment to watch, not wanting to interupt. After a few more seconds of talking to no one, Aelin socked Lorcan in the arm. Rowan could almost here him groan as he finally looked down at Aelin. She looked relieved as she launched into speaking all over again. When she was done, Aelin paused, apprehension shining in her eyes. Lorcan hesitated a moment before sighing and folding her into his arms. Her shoulders slumped with relief as she hugged him back. When they finally pulled away, Aelin was positively beaming and Rowan couldn't hold back the smile that tugged at his lips in response.

Still smiling, Aelin grabbed Lorcan's hand and pulled him down the hall towards Rowan. Just before they got withing hearing distance Aelin said something to Lorcan that made his head tip back in laughter. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they reached Rowan.

They stopped infront of him and Lorcan looked up at Rowan slowly. Aelin surveyed the two males tentatively, as if preparing to seperate a fight.

"Hey." Lorcan said at last, his low voice rougher than normal.

"Hey." Rowan replied, nodding his head slightly.

Just as the silence became unbearably thick, a cheerful voice broke through the haze.

"Hey guys." Fenrys said, throwing his arm around Aelin. "I haven't seen any of you since the party, how were your weekends?"

"Totally normal." Aelin blurted at the same time that Lorcan said. "Nothing special."

Fenrys brows narrowed but he didnt push it. "Um okay. What about you Rowan?"

"Shitty." He admitted, avoiding anyone but Fenrys' gaze.

"Aw sorry about that man. I saw you leave the party alone, that sucks. It's been a while since you got laid huh."

Rowan couldnt stop the blush forming. "Uh yeah I dont know, I guess it depends on your definition of a while."

"Wasn't the last one Remelle?" Fenrys asked. Gods sometimes he just wanted to punch Fenrys out.

"Remelle." Aelin blurted. "Rowan that was all the way back in July. Its been like three months."

He was definetly blushing now. Remelle had been his last failed attempt at getting over his being in love with Aelin. He’d thrown up as soon as he’d left their room and from that moment on just touching other women had made him feel slightly nauseous. 

“Yeah well I just haven't really clicked with anyone since I guess.” He stumbled over his words. Lorcan was shooting him a knowing look that Rowan pointedly ignored. 

“Whatever.” Fenrys said shrugging. “Where’d you two disappear off too. I could've used some help with clean up.” 

Instantly all three of them looked down at their shoes, shoulders tensed. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Rowan decided to put everyone out of their miseries. 

“They fucked.” He said, his voice carefully exempt of any emotion. 

Fenrys mouth fell wide open. “What.” He paused. “Um Wha- How?” At last he sighed. “WHAT THE ABSOLUTE FUCK.” He half yelled. 

A few freshman walking by giggled and scurried down the hall. 

“Well we were both drunk and not really thinking and somehow we ended up in his bed. But we’re good now so let’s just all forget it ever happened okay?” The plea in Aelin’s voice tightened something in Rowan’s chest. 

Fenrys, who was still staring at Lorcan, his jaw practically on the floor, said nothing. Lorcan swore under his breath and grabbed Fenrys, dragging him down the hall away from Aelin and Rowan. Good, let Lorcan deal with his best friend and Rowan would deal with his. 

They walked down the hall in silence for a few seconds. Rowan fought to hold back everything he wanted to say. He could feel their friendship slowly falling apart, like a burning house. Yet he couldn't say or do anything out of fear that the whole thing would come crumbling down with one wrong touch. Instead, he allowed himself to focus on the pattern of footsteps against the school tile floor. He watched Aelin’s hands swing back and forth, shaking violently. 

“Aelin are you okay?” He asked tentatively. 

She jerked her head towards him, then down to her hands, and then back up again. Eyes still on him, she pulled her sweater down to cover her shaking hands. 

“Um yeah its just... well I stopped the drugs and everything very suddenly and it’s a little hard on my body.” 

“How hard.” He asked, concern shining in his bright green eyes. 

“Most people phase out of the shit I did slowly. Stopping it all at once is hard.” 

“That’s not what I asked.” He didn't raise his voice but his tone was firm in the way that demanded answers. 

She took a long breath in through her nose. “Some vomiting, cold chills and sweating, a pounding headache, shaking, a couple fucked up dreams.” 

“So you’re in withdrawal.” 

“Yeah from like three different things at once.” Aelin let out a small laugh, as if this was all funny for her. 

“Do you want me to take you home?” He offered. 

“What no.” She rolled her ankle around in a circle. “I’ll see you at lunch.” 

Then she was gone. 

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

Rowan Whitehorn had thought calculus was the worst class he’d have to suffer through. French, made that course look like a fucking summer breeze. Honestly this class wouldn't even have been that hard if he could speak the language at all. Aelin and him had always wanted to go backpacking through Europe, so when he said he couldn't speak French, she practically signed him up herself. 

“Rowan.” A voice snapped him out of his daze. The principal was standing in the class doorway, panting, as if she’d ran here. The look in her eyes made Rowan’s heart lurch forward in his chest. 

“Yeah,” He said, already walking towards her. 

“Come with me.” Then they were walking swiftly down the hall.

“What’s going on?” A part of him didn't really want an answer. 

The principal swallowed and began jogging down the hall. “It’s Aelin.” 

A part of him had already known. Had wanted it to be false, but known all the same. Still, it didn't stop the panic that seized him so completely, had him practically running down the halls now, feed sliding on the freshly cleaned tile. 

The rounded the corner and Rowan stopped dead on his feet. There, sitting against the wall just outside her art classroom, was Aelin. Her arms were wrapped around her petite frame, as if she could hold herself together. She was shaking uncontrollably, her head buried in her knees. Even from a few metres away, Rowan could hear how she tried and failed to gulp down air. There were no tears on her face, just blind panic. Fenrys was kneeling in front of her, a panicked expression on his face and he tried to calm her down. 

Rowan ignore the small puddle of vomit on the floor as he pushed Fenrys away and kneeled before Aelin. He was close enough now to hear her muttering something, words he couldn't decipher. 

Ever so carefully, he grabbed her violently seizing wrists and pried them from her knees. Her hands were freezing cold, and Rowan resisted the urge to drop them. Instead, he covered them with his own and waited for her to look at him. 

“Aelin” He said softly, failing to hide the pain in his voice. “Look at me love.” 

She didn't. Some of the shaking in her hands had ceased though, becoming more tremors than anything. 

“Aelin everything is going to be okay. I can help you alright. I just need you to look at me.” 

Slowly, so slow that he felt as though time itself had been warped, she lifted those blue eyes to his own. He stared at her broken face, letting her know that he saw every part of her and was not afraid. 

“Just breathe with me.” He took one of her hands and placed it against his chest. “Just like this.” 

He inhaled slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. After a brief second of hesitation, Aelin did the same. 

“Good.” He murmured softly, and repeated the action. “You’re doing so good.” 

He continued to breathe in and out until Aelin’s own breath had steadied. Even then, he refused to remove her hand from his chest. 

At long last, she spoke. “I don't know what happened.” The words came out scratchy. “One second I was painting, green flowers like your eyes. Then someone spilled red paint on the floor. It looked like blood Rowan. Like his blood all over the tile. Suddenly the walls started closing in and I couldn't breathe. There was blood everywhere and he was dying all over again and I just couldn't fucking breathe.” A strangled cry broke from her lips on the last words. 

“We’re going to go home now okay? I’m going to take you home.” He paused to weigh her reaction. She tried to stand up but her legs were shaking so much that it didn't work. Instead, she collapsed back down withe another small broke sob. Rowan’s fucking heart was shattering. 

“Can I pick you up?” He asked. Her small nod was answer enough. Leaning down, he curled one arm under her legs and the other below her neck. Still shaking slightly, she buried her head in his chest, as if hiding from the rest of the world. 

The principal was still staring at them in shock. Fenrys must've gone to get Lorcan who was now watching Rowan and Aelin with pure devastation on his face. “We’ll be by later.” Lorcan said as they passed. 

“Alright.” 

When they reached Rowan’s car, he placed Aelin in the passenger seat before climbing in as well. 

“Thank you.” Her words carried some of that fearless strength and determination he’d missed. “For everything. You have no idea what it means to me. I honestly don't think i’d still be here without you Ro.”

“Anytime.” He tried not to focus on the deja vu of this situation. Tried and failed to forget that it was barely two days ago when he’d placed a shaking Aelin in the front seat of his car. He was always saving her, not that he had minded much before. But now, as they pulled out of the parking lot, Rowan wondered if maybe there was more out there.

--------

tags: 

@queen-of-glass

@courtofjurdan

@fictional-horan

@bamchickawowow

[uncomfortable-writers]

-𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞?- (𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) 𝟐

(Gif credit to owner)

Fandom: Supernatural

Character: Dean Winchester

Persona: Female

Warning: Swearing

Word Count: 1,424

A/N - Thank you all for your lovely responses <3

Read Part 1 Here!

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A particularly loud snore caught in the back of Dean’s throat while he lay face down spread eagle across his bed still wearing the clothes he’d stormed out in last night. He jolted awake trying to force his green eyes to focus. Letting out a groan which was muffled slightly by his pillow he touched his forehead gently, careful not to agitate his headache more.

How did he even get home last night? Dean tentatively sat up swinging his legs over the side of the bed he rested his head in his hands to try and remember the shenanigans of the evening.

A few doors down you also began to rouse from your dreamless sleep. The thought of being back, combined with having to see and at some point interact with the older Winchester filled you with enough anxiety that rest didn’t come easy that night. Rising from the bed the room became filled with the noise of your back cracking, soon to be replaced by your stomach growling angrily. “Shit”, you mumbled to the air. You flopped down on the bed to think about your options, you could either; venture out to the kitchen to grab a snack but that came with the risk of bumping into you know who or you could just wait it out. As much as the hunger gnawed at your stomach, the fear was too much so you once again opened up your laptop to try and distract yourself. There was a soft tap on your door, followed by Sam gently calling your name, “Hey (Y/N), I made some breakfast if you want any”, almost like he could sense your dilemma. You smiled, practically bouncing over to the door you opened it, “That would be great Sam”. “I can bring--”, Sam started but stopped once you began to step outside of your room, “Let’s go eat”.

Fate was cruel that much Dean couldn’t deny, it always had a nasty way of coming back around to bite him in the ass in someway or another. The smell of pancakes and bacon drifted under the door into Dean’s nose. A disgustingly greasy breakfast was just what he needed. Reluctantly he rose from his bed certain that somewhere Chuck was mocking him. He resented everything about his current situation and resented you even more. Not only did he have to worry about Micheal now but you as well. Dean stumbled over his own feet as he made his way to the kitchen.

“I forgot how good you are at making these”, you garbled through a mouthful of pancake, “But Dean’s were always better”, you were unable to stop the sentence from spilling out from your mouth, Sam didn’t miss the way your face fell. “Yeah well he still won’t share his secret recipe with me...How have you been anyway?”. You were grateful for the swift topic change, it was almost like nothing had changed between the two of you. Dean was so caught up in his own thoughts that he almost didn’t hear the sound of Sam talking to you. He froze up, his blood turning to ice in his veins. He lent against the wall, only a few metres kept him from you. Your voice was still the same but as he listened he noticed you sounded tired in a way that he couldn’t place even though it sounded familiar. The more he listened to your soft spoken words to Sam, the more it provoked feelings of nostalgia as his mind fleeted away to a better moment in time:

“Good morning sleepyhead”, you cooed to Dean who walked into the kitchen wearing nothing more than his bathrobe, you were stationed over the hob watching the bacon and eggs cook. Dean placed his head onto your shoulder, engulfing your waist with his big arms he asked, “What’s cookin’ good lookin’?”. You giggled, “Your favourite”. Dean tightened the grip momentarily with a hum of approval, then he pulled on your hips to make you face him, “You’re too good to me princess”, his accent heavy with sleep. He pressed his lips to yours as you let your arms wrap around his neck. “Gross you guys, I’m trying to eat”, Sam piped up from the table, a look of mocking disgust across his face. You pulled away from Dean with a smile.

Dean couldn’t believe how lucky he’d gotten by scoring you: his perfect dream girl. He let you turn back around, “Way to ruin the moment Sammy”, he took a seat across from his brother who laughed at his quip. He watched as you hummed to yourself flipping the eggs, taking a swig from his coffee he was content with the picturesque scene before him.

‘Yeah’, Dean thought, ‘I could get used to this’.

“--and that’s how I took out a whole nest of vamps”, you grinned proudly, watching the visible surprise grow on Sam’s face, “No way, not even me or Dean could’ve done that!”. Upon hearing his name, Dean was thrust back into the real world. He snorted out a puff of air in irritation, breakfast would have to wait. Spinning on his heel he made no effort to conceal the sound of his movement, pissed off that he couldn’t even go anywhere in his own house, couldn’t eat and that he felt like he’d been ran over by a truck.

The noise caught both yours and Sam’s attention. It felt like you’d been punched in your gut, like there was no air getting to your lungs. You waited for what felt like an eternity for Dean to walk into the room but he never appeared. “So where were we anyway?”, Sam questioned, drawing your attention back to him.

“Like I was saying--”.

♡　♥　♡　♥　♡

Sam later found his brother in the library, glued to his laptop screen with a sour look twisting his features into a permanent scowl. His hand was gripping a beer bottle, (like usual), while the other hand scrolled endlessly through useless articles.

Sam cleared his throat, “Any luck?”. Without looking away Dean answered dully,  “I thought I told you to tell her to go”. Sam pursed his lips. When a reply never came Dean glanced up at his brother, raising a brow in an almost antagonising manner. Sam shifted his weight knowing that anything he said wouldn’t sate his brother, “We need her Dean”. His older brother shut his laptop lid with more force than he meant, he stood up, “How is (Y/N) gonna help huh? What’s she going to do that we can’t? Does she know something we don’t?”, Dean paused to let Sam interject but the look on the younger man’s face said it all, “That’s what I thought. We don’t need her, I mean just look at all the other hunters we got runnin’ around here, we don’t need another taking up space”.

Sam softly said, “Dean (Y/N) can help you just need to give her time--”. 

“Time!?!”, Dean scoffed in disbelief, “We don’t have time! She either helps now or I’ll pack her bags myself”. He snatched his beer from the table to storm off to his room. As he booked it around the corner he almost bumped into you, you didn’t need to have heard the conversation he’d just had with Sam, (even though you just did), to tell from his body language that he was livid. Dean’s green eyes widened in shock for a split second before the mix of previous feelings misted over his eyes; hurt, anger and confusion. He quickly pushed past you, your shoulders bumping as he hurried back to his room, “Watch where you’re going”, his voice low like a growl. As quickly as he had appeared, he was gone just as fast, low key wishing he’d lingered for just a few moments longer to take in your relatively unchanged appearance.

Watching his shadow disappear around the corner, you couldn’t stop the tears that began to well in the back of your eyes. Timidly shuffling into the library you found it to be occupied by only Sam. Dean’s words stung as you repeated the sentences in your head. Sam looked up and met your eyes, his demeanour swiftly eased into a much more inviting one, his arms almost twitch up to offer you a hug.

Even though your voice was low as you spoke there was clear determination laced in your tone, “I’ll show him Sam”. With a plan already beginning to formulate, you planned on how to soothe your wounded pride.

♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

Tag List: @annestine​

[mistymark]

the one with the ex boyfriend. [jisung]

summary: you and your best friend, jisung, take part in a video interview surrounding your past relationship.

based off of ‘the exes confronting each other’ seventeen series by @skydivingstars 

[ex boyfriend interview series masterlist] [main masterlist]

[The video begins with a bare set. Both the wall and the ground are grey, save for the two black spinning stools in the middle of the screen, only a metre or two apart.]

[Two people walk in, from opposite sides of the screen, gently taking a seat on the stools. They recognise each other instantly and shoot confused looks at the camera as they tentatively sit.]

[We’re currently doing a series on exes and past relationships. I believe your mutual friend asked you to do this? Okay. Well, we’ll just be asking a few questions. If at any time you feel uncomfortable, or if you just need a break, just let us know. We can skip a question or edit a section out if you would like. Ready?]

[They both cock their heads to the side in confusion. One of them opens their mouth to interrupt.]

[Could you introduce yourselves and your relationship?]

Y/n: Uh, yeah? I’m Y/n. Jisung is my friend.

Jisung, awkwardly pointing to himself as he looks slightly off to the side of the camera: I’m Jisung

Jisung, clearing his throat: Y/n’s friend

[And how did you two-?]

Y/n, interrupting: I’m sorry, did you say exes and past relationships?

[She sits forward on her stool, leaning towards the camera as she talks to the staff. Jisung’s eyebrows are furrowed as he listens.]

[Yes, this is an interview series for people who have dated in the past. Is- is there an issue?]

[Y/n and Jisung raise their eyebrows.]

Jisung: we... we’ve never dated, though.

[You’ve never dated?]

[They shake their heads. There’s sudden motion around the camera as staff talk to each other in hushed tones. Jisung and Y/n look at each other and try to suppress a smile.]

[You never dated... even as children?]

Y/n, shrugging: I mean, maybe. If we did, I don’t remember it.

Jisung: I- I don’t think so.

[Words flash across the screen; Despite never having dated, Jisung and Y/n agreed to take part in an interview surrounding their relationship.]

[How did you guys meet?]

Jisung: we met in freshman year. we were in the same science class.

Y/n: yeah. Jisung was really shy.

[Jisung turns to Y/n and scrunches his nose.]

[Zoom in on Y/n]

Y/n: even more shy than he is now.

[Camera pans to Jisung; he rolls his eyes.]

Jisung: I don’t remember much from the first time we met, but I knew she was loud. Like, really loud.

Y/n, laughing good-naturedly at the memory: I used to get in trouble for talking a lot, so our teacher moved me to sit beside the quietest kid in class.

Jisung, interrupting quickly: which wasn't me, if anyone was wondering.

Y/n, frowning: no, but my actual deskmate never talked

Y/n, grinning as she points at Jisung: so I used to turn around and talk to the people behind me

Jisung, playfully sounding like it bothered him: which just so happened to be me

[Normally, we would ask our participants when they first realised they were interested in each other. Did you ever want to date each other?]

Jisung, blushing: yeah, I did

Y/n, debating her answer: um...

Y/n, decisively: yes

[When?]

Jisung: after we became friends, in freshman year. I mean, I was fresh out of middle school, awkward as- oh wait, I can’t swear, right?

Jisung: I was super awkward, and she was one of the first girls to talk to me. Of course I had a crush on her.

Y/n, grinning: and then he had a huge growth spurt between junior and senior year, and then every girl wanted him to have a crush on them

[Jisung turns to her, stunned. He clearly wasn’t aware of this fact.]

[Y/n?]

Y/n, kicking her legs back and forth on her stool: mhmm?

[When did you have a crush on Jisung?]

Y/n, biting back a smile: start of senior year.

Jisung, with wide eyes: what?!

Y/n, trying very hard to ignore him, her attention kept on the camera: yeah. like I said, every girl wanted him to have a crush on them. that included me.

[Y/n laughs, though it’s obvious there is a little bit of disappointment on her face]

[Zoom in on Jisung. He’s deep in thought, looking down at the ground. You can clearly see him mouth a surprised ‘what?’]

[Next question is why did you break up so... why did you stop having a crush on each other?]

Jisung, laughing: I don’t know. I guess I just got over it. Y/n became my friend.

Y/n, pulling a face as she leans over to pinch his cheek: awwww!

[He scowls and bats her hand away.]

[Zoom in on Y/n]

Y/n: I guess when I realised I didn’t have a chance with him? I don’t know.

[Jisung’s eyebrow quirks up at this response, and one side of his mouth lifts up in a small, private smile.]

[What do you love most about each other?]

Jisung, laughing: I don’t know?

Y/n, laughing with him: nothing; I hate jisung.

[Jisung scowls, and easily lifts an arm to reach over and ruffle Y/n’s hair]

[What do you hate most about each other?]

[Both of their smiles drop. They become serious.]

Y/n: o-oh... uh, nothing?

[Jisung looks over at Y/n before answering.]

Jisung, content with his answer, nodding: yeah, same. nothing.

[Pause. Jisung reaches down to the base of his stool for his water.]

[Would you say you were in love? When you had a crush on each other?]

[Y/n’s eyes widen at the question. Jisung almost chokes on his water. Y/n tries not to laugh at his misfortune.]

Y/n: no, I don’t think so.

Jisung: not in freshman year.

[Would you give it another- no. Would you give it a shot?]

[Both begin to blush. Subconsciously, Y/n raises a hand to her face to feel the heat coming from her cheeks. Jisung’s ears are suddenly bright red, visible when he turns to Y/n. She doesn’t look at him.]

[Remember you can skip a question if it makes you uncomfortable.]

Jisung, clearing his throat: I-

Jisung, voice almost cracking: yes

[Y/n finally looks over at him and, if possible, flushes a brighter red. She tries to contain a smile, but fails.]

[Zoom in on Y/n.]

[Y/n bites her lip.]

Y/n: I mean, yeah.

[Camera pans to Jisung. He’s grinning down at his lap.]

[Well, thank you for coming in, guys. Sorry about the confusion, but you two were great.]

Jisung, talking to the staff off camera, the microphone above him still on: what’s this series called?

[Y/n’s attention is brought to the staff, too; curious to hear the response.]

[A small breathy laugh is heard in a microphone; the staff member conducting the interview is amused by her own response.]

[Second chances. Look out for it.]

[Jisung’s eyes widen, but a grin stretches across his face as he turns to his best friend. Y/n looks at him, curious as to why he’s smiling so hard.]

Y/n: what?

Jisung: you had a crush on me at the start of school?

Y/n, rolling her eyes: oh my god, that’s what you got from that whole interview?

Jisung, teasing her: that, and the fact that you’d go out with me now.

Y/n, teasing him back: ah, yes. don’t forget you said you’d date me, too. clingy ass.

Jisung, punching her arm and shouldering his bag, laughing: shut up!

[Jisung walks off set while Y/n rifles through her bag for her phone.]

Y/n, calling out after him: hey! where do you think you’re going?

[Jisung’s voice is tinny as he’s no longer under the microphones. He yells back to her.]

Jisung: wanna get coffee?!

[Y/n grins to herself as she zips up at her bag, reaches down and grabs the bottle of water by her stool. She runs off set after him, laughing. His question isn’t verbally answered.]