#yes its exam season again

[incoherentscreaming101]

fuck anatomy fuck anatomy fuck anatomy fuck anatomy fuck anatomy fuck anatomy fuck anatomy fuck anatomy fuck anatomy fuck anatomy fuck anatomy fuck anatomy fuck anatomy fuck anatomy fuck anatomy fuck anatomy fuck anatomy fuck anatomy fuck anatomy fuck anatomy fuck anatomy fuck anatomy fuck anatomy fuck anatomy fuck anatomy fuck anatomy fuck anatomy fuck anatomy fuck anatomy fuck anatomy fuck anatomy fuck anatomy fuck anatomy fuck anato-

[just-a-girl-with-a-pistol]

He goe i guess, listen limbus egos look cool sooooo

[skitskatdacat63]

Oh...

[rinnstars]

imagineee, aquarium dates with rin. LIKE, SEEING JELLYFISHES AND SHARKS AND CUTE TURTLES WITH OUR RINNIE?? perfecto *chefs kiss*. until you encounter a boy who strayed away from his teacher during their fieldtrip, and starts to tag along with you both. he likes rin but nags you so much?? wow, unfair! anyway, that's all, thank you @rinnstars !! mwa mwa !!

( i got this idea from the C-drama "When I Fly Towards You". the aquarium scene in episode 9 where they happened to be babysitters until the boy was brought back to his teacher and classmates. + please make this in the original timeline. highschool sweethearts with rinrin ( 16 or 17 ) >3< )

sea you with me!

aquarium dates with you

itoshi rin x reader: mainly from rin’s pov, fluff, a little bit of crack, not proofread + likes and reblogs are appreciated

notes: HIIII anon!!!! YES OFCCCC<333 fun fact is that i have never been to one but i hope it’s still sort of accurate TT spent my lesson break for this I JUST GOT A LITTLE EXCITED… just a little!!!! <3 dwww i read ur other part of req tooo although its in the bonus section ish !! <333

holding your hand in the midst of the crowd that forms around different section of glasses featuring different sea creature - from translucent-like jellyfish that practically shines underneath the blue shimmering light above it hovering around, from green turtles that floats around slowly serenely right next and in contrast to the shark that seem to bare its teeth to show its glory to the people looking in awe. he thinks hes lovesick when he sees that and glance at the reflection of you and him, so reminiscent of those sea creatures - with you being as ethereal and breath-taking as the jellyfish as you smile and him being the sharks being placed on display in a separate tank right beside yours in contrast the same way he frowns and grimaces and glares at others.

really, he thinks he doesn’t quite fit the atmosphere - filled with other students with their friends cheerily taking pictures of one another in front of each glass panel with their digicam (that’s inside his pocket if you ever ask for it), filled with noisy kids that yelp and tug at their parents shirt as they attempt to navigate the already-crowded area, filled with people that dress picture-perfect and light to match the atmosphere in contrast to his black jacket hiding his school uniform. and again, he is reminded of his own lovesickness - forgoing a lazy after school hang out with you right in his bedroom playing yours and his favourite song whilst eating food from that cafe he knows youre practically addicted to simply because you asked him to, without any pleadings or begging. yet, don’t get him wrong, hes having fun here although not in the traditional sense - he enjoys seeing you point and brighten up when you see a fish that just catches your attention as you skip right to it, he enjoys feeling your hands against his as though made for each other as you tug against it to move to the next section, and most importantly he really does enjoy seeing you enjoy yourself. after all, he knows you deserve especially after exam season - he’s seen you all drained out lying your head on your desk just days ago clearly exhusasted a few hours after insisting you’ll be fine, he’s seen your piles of notes and assignments and even more printed exam papers to redo for your exam that he thinks your table has already become the equivalent of an library, and hes seen you fallen asleep at your desk way later than you should be after his football club with tears stains that he wished to have been there to wipe away, to kiss away, anything to have prevented you from having cried.

and its this point as you two are chatting about life, leaning in closer to you, where that colourful fish that has been staying still seems to have woken up and in its hurry seem to swim desperately to another side that startles the both of you (he wishes to curse that fish for it would have been a scene out of a manga that you always read if he had mustered the courage to kiss you right there and then), leading you to stumble and almost hit someone - and by someone, its apparently a little kid who looks confused and dazed, not even moving as you almost crash right into him.

you look at that little kid and he looks right back at you with his wide eyes - and hes pretty sure it lasts a while more before you apparently decide to play “adopt me” (just like when you and him were both kids on roblox.. but he digress…) and he’s pretty sure he might just have accidentally glared at the kid with the way he tugs at your jacket as he walks behind you as though hiding from him. and of course, hes used to that sight, hes never been great with kids - having scared his little cousin with just his looks at some point that led him to be reprimanded by said cousin’s parents, having been bitten by said little cousin as soon as his parents left almost letting out a ear-shattering scream that would have completely shattered whatever ego was left from that bite mark that lasted weeks, having being thrown a drink at by said cousin another time whilst he was minding his business playing games beside him whilst having to save his switch and end up soaking wet in his home clothes for another hour or so (and he’s sworn off babysitting for his cousin ever since then) (he had to go to blue lock)

but in front of you, he wants a little pride, to impress you, he digresses - tugging at his pocket to offer the little kid in front of you a candy (out of the many he brings to give to you and to snack on himself). and he knows hes successful, letting himself smile slightly in victory as the kid face appears from behind you, cautiously accepting the candy that rin helps to tear away the packet of for him to enjoy. and perhaps he associates that sugary sweet strawberry flavour that bursts in his mouth with the two of you, suddenly turning from the quiet and confused kid you randomly found to a kid who suddenly was open and talkative, all smiles and laughter, holding the both of your hands in his and skipping, pulling you and rin with him.

and now, he finds himself no longer pulled by you, but this random kid - but when he looks at you who’s attention is clearly on the kid, smiling and nodding to whatever things he’s saying, you practically you look like an angel especially with the way the aquarium white and blue lights were illuminating you. and midway of course, he slowly lets go of rin’s hand, leaving him behind almost comically as he holds yours and his bag. and he can practically feel eyes glared at him, and all he wants to do is to run away as he walks behind you and that little kid that he now suddenly feels was against him all along - with the way he tugs and your arm and..!

“.. mhm! ah! wait those are my parents! bye bye!” he says, turning back at you and rin with a bright smile that practically filled your heart with warmth as though he was the sun, waving excitedly at the both of you before he cheerily skips towards his parents who looked confused at where he was, pulling him by the hand worriedly.

and with that, your hands are back to merging with his, and that tint of red on his face from embarrassment changes into a blush across his face that is only highlighted by the lights from having his hands on you, walking about in the sea exhibition. he wonders a little what that kid told you, for you to hold his hands seemingly a little tighter, leaning your head on his shoulder that isn’t completely uncharacteristic but still a little strange as you glance at another exhibition of fishes swimming passionately around the tank as though dancing, brushing his hair aside before leaning in and merging your lips with his that practically makes his heart flutters and pump even faster than it does on the field - and he swears he understands all those mangas you rave about teenage romance and whatnot when youre practically made for him.

bonus:

“… seriously bachira… i don’t think that’s rin…”

“it seriously is! i followed him from that cafe! i’m serious isagi!!”

“with that kind of personality…?”

“hey! keep it down a little he’s about to turn around..?!”

and rin thinks hes going to lose his mind when he turns around after that kiss only to see his isagi and bachira huddled together whispering clearly about him in their respective school uniform, tugging you by your hand to somewhere else as he sees them through the reflective glass of the exhibitions following him and you a little too obviously. but he guesses if its with you, he doesn’t mind it at all.

[oracleofstars]

✦ 3VOLS ( THE HUGE MASTERLIST ) : ISSUE 2, SNOWFLAKE!

The spotlight has turned to @alistairea of this month

IM NEW, WHATS "3VOLS" THE MAGAZINE?

This will serve as a "mini masterlist" where we compile links of works from different creators based on the character. And yes, its not limited to fanfiction. This is open to artists, graphic design/gfx creators & editors. (Basically, if you've created any kind of creative media related to the character) Below the interview is a masterlist specifically made for the character!

YOU MIGHT BE THE NEXT CREATOR FEATURED IN 3VOLS!

Its pretty easy to join! There is a higher chance of being featured if you are a member of the network, but we plan on inviting other creators who aren't members as well. Our hunter's exam will be held on July 5 to July 15, a taglist will be made soon. Be on the lookout, future hunters!

MEET THE NEWEST NURSING STUDENT!

Arianna is a creative multifandom creator who makes content for Love & Deepspace, Genshin Impact & Star Rail! We have asked her five questions to introduce her content to all of us.

tell us about yourself!

ari : hello ^^ my name is arianna, I write love and deep space characters but I don't mind writing a character from another fandom and my content is about LANDPS boys - even the story characters

who is your favorite to write about in landps?

ari : zayne is my favorite character to write for. my smau of him is still ongoing ( SNOWFLAKE! )

what is your personal headcannon of your favorite l&dps character?

ari : my personal headcannon of zayne ( and may be canon ) is that he still continues trying to find mc in every life even though he is cursed.

what is your favorite sfw work that you have posted?

ari : right now the zayne smau is the only one ive written, but i hope to write more for the others as well!

how is your time in oracle of stars?

ari : its really good, i like it here. i hope everyone joins this network.

RECOMMENDATIONS FROM THE DEEPSPACE NETWORK

welcome to the zayne masterlist, find something that piques your interest here! show some love to the creators that work hard in this community by reblogging their work with a cute little tag! <3 there may be repeating works from the last issue

snowflake! smau masterlist - @ alistairea

zayne caring for you - @ alistairea

l&ds boys + their nicknames for you - @ lovexdeepspace

l&ds boys + choosing mc over you - @ lovexdeepspace

zayne gets a cat to love him - @ kakaventurine

taking their surname - @ beneathashadytree

jealous of… plushies? - @ beneathashadytree

“is he your boyfriend?” - @ beneathashadytree

hospital trip - @ chaos-in-deepspace

naming a puppy after him - @ strwberri-milk

turning into an evol kitten - @ strwberri-milk

when you (playfully) reject their kiss - @ chastiefoul

sleepy day - @ chastiefoul

saying i love you - @ chastiefoul

his not-so-secret love affair - @ kykyonthemoon

how to romance the lovely miss hunter - @ kykyonthemoon

the spaces between my fingers are right where yours fit perfectly - @ kykyonthemoon

distractions - @ odoraful

an aesthetic eye - @ odoraful

ladps men's reactions when they hear a little kid say he'll marry you when he grows up - @ manikas-whims

ladps men react to you taking in a kitten - @ manikas-whims

remnants of the heart - @ tulipdf

WHAT ELSE IS HAPPENING?

its almost application season! our taglist will open soon. come join us in the discord & the network. the second issue is finally done, show some support to the creators by REBLOGGING their works with little comments-it encourages them a lot, trust me! thank you for all the support you've given the oracle. we'll see you again next time!

[slytherinshua]

★　STUDY TECHNIQUES　( 앰퍼샌드원 )

      in which . . . in the height of exam season, you try crazy studying techniques.

genre fluff , headcanons , established relationship , ampers&one x fem!reader (separate)   cw food mention in kyrell's , not proofread   wc 874 (around 100 per member)   request yes   note this was so fun to write (i wrote it instead of doing schoolwork wow so smart zanna)   net @kstrucknet @chrimatanet @andearnet

KAMDEN ﾐ 캠든

Kamden understands the importance of studying, and knows why you would cancel date plans to cram in another chapter. What he absolutely doesn’t understand is your studying techniques. Having him hold the book open for you as you lie upside down from your bed, head hanging almost to the floor as you read the textbook passage. 

“What is this supposed to help with again?” 

“Blood circulation to the brain.”

Now Kamden knows you aren’t studying nursing, and also pulled that studying technique out of your ass. As much as he loves you, there’s only so much more of holding the book before he gives up any help until you pick a more reasonable studying method.

BRIAN ﾐ 브라이언

Brian is more than a little confused when he finds you studying on the floor with a pencil half the size of your body. Surely, that can’t be practical. He watches from the door for a while before finally asking you what the hell you were even trying to accomplish. You blink up at him innocently, saying how a bigger pencil will translate to better notes. It only takes one look at your notepad and the insanely messy, oversized, and awkwardly spaced words to know that you’re just trying anything now. Knowing how stressed you were with finals, he kindly offers to help you study (granted you ditch the oversized pencils). 

JIHO ﾐ 지호

Jiho isn’t one to judge, especially when it’s his beloved girlfriend who is stressed beyond reason for exams. Given how on edge you’ve been the past few days, he really tries to understand the method to your madness. You pull up to your study desk with one of those giant 5 gallon water containers, barely able to carry the thing. Jiho watches from the side, a little concerned, but also weirdly endeared. He had been reminding you to drink lots of water while you studied, and you were clearly taking his advice… To some degree, anyway. He ends up giggling every time you try to take a sip and can barely lift the thing. (He will get you a reasonably sized mug after not too long). 

SIYUN ﾐ 시윤

Siyun sees the stupidity of your weird studying techniques immediately, but he still relates to the desperation of them. Your army of stuffed animals surrounding you are supposed to help you focus… somehow. Siyun watches in amusement as you jot down notes, talking absentmindedly to Mrs. Cream Puff, a pastel pink bunny plush, and Dark Lord Siyun— a slightly evil looking tiger who you had named after your boyfriend. Siyun thinks about trying to give you tips that might help more, but he finds the entire sight so endearing that he can’t bring himself to remove the plushies. When you reach a frustrating gap in knowledge and hug Dark Lord Siyun to your chest for emotional support, your boyfriend almost melts at the sight, finding it hard to focus on the work he was doing with you in the room.

KYRELL ﾐ 카이렐

Kyrell— ever the absolute sweetheart he is— makes you food every time you have a long study session ahead of you. He knows how caught up you get in your notes and flashcards, sometimes forgetting to eat, and always drinking way too much coffee in the process. But he’s a little taken aback when you turn the food he gives you into its own technique that will supposedly help you remember quiz answers for biology. With each question right, you reward yourself with a bite of food. Kyrell soon goes along with it, quizzing you himself and celebrating with you at every right answer. You then plan to eat the exact same meal right before the exam, hoping the taste of the food would help you recall the syllabus. It’s doubtful to work, but worth a shot, right?

MACKIAH ﾐ 마카야

Mackiah is the first one to suggest some crazy study method to you the moment you say you’re stressed about upcoming exams. The boy certainly thinks outside the box, setting up a whole faux obstacle course for review. Saying something about staying active while studying will help you from getting sleepy and forgetting important information. You go along with it because you’ve tried everything at this point, and maybe your boyfriend is right. You’re not sure about the effectiveness of it in the end, though, as you fell on your face more than actually learning about physics. But you end up passing the exam the following week, and you have to give at least some credit to Mackiah, who sacrificed hours in ridiculous attempts at review and recall.

SEUNGMO ﾐ 승모

You might have procrastinated on studying for your upcoming history exam. So what’s your solution? Dressing up as a Joseon era emperor and pretending like the textbook pages are royal decrees you need to review. It was sure to work perfectly in your head. A little role play could only motivate you further, right? Seungmo walks in on your little skit, surprised to see you in a traditional crown. When you tell him what it’s for, he realizes that he completely forgot he had to study for that exam as well. Panics, but ends up joining you in your insanity. It made perfect sense in Seungmo’s head. Plus, he likes wearing the hat and pretending you were his empress. 

ampers&one taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @loserlvrss,, @xikskrrrs,, @cupidslovearrows

[bingwriterxo]

the shakespeare exhibit - part 8

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: in which you and tara both have things to talk about

warnings: mentions of stabbing, talks of substance abuse and verbal abuse

word count: 2700+

previous part | next part

Finals season was in full swing at Blackmore University, sending its students into poor sleep schedules and even worse diets as they attempted to cram a semester’s worth of information into their brains.

You and Tara, unfortunately, were no exception. For the past week, the two of you had holed yourselves up in either the library or one of your apartments, your noses stuck in your books and your hands fumbling around for an energy drink whenever you needed a pick-me-up.

The only time you had taken a break was to celebrate Tara’s 20th birthday, but even then it was hardly a celebration. You had gathered all of her friends at her apartment, had a small party consisting of drinks and movies, and then went right back to studying, Tara in tow.

Safe to say, the stress levels were at an all-time-high, especially for Tara, who was experiencing her first round of finals in university. You had offered her a few studying tips, since you had already gone through the struggles of freshman-year exams the year prior, before immersing yourself in your own revision.

You were in the midst of reviewing for your Romantic Literature course--the last final that you had for the semester--when your mother called you, leading you to slip out of Tara’s bedroom and into the hallway to speak to her.

Tara sat at her desk, grumbling as she tried to study for her Introduction to Literature course. This is just as stupid as it was when I was studying for the midterm, she thought, eyes scanning her notes about Emily Dickinson. Maybe it’s even more stupid now.

Your voice broke her concentration as you walked back into her room, and she twisted her chair around to face you. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll ask her, alright?” You rolled your eyes and pointed at your phone, mouthing, she talks so much. Tara giggled softly, extending her arms for you to stand between, and you sighed as you slid into place, her fingers rubbing over your hips. “Okay. Yup. Yeah, okay. Yeah. Right. Okay, bye, mom.”

“What was that all about?” Tara asked when you hung up, throwing your phone onto her desk. “Did Eddie pull another prank on the Dylan Thomas statue again?”

You chuckled, thinking about the photo that your brother had sent you the week before—he had put a wig, makeup, and a shaving-cream beard on the statue of your grandfather’s late friend. “No, no. The statue garden has gone untouched this week.”

She shook her head, a grin on her face. “I still can’t believe you guys have a statue garden,” she said. But of course her family does. Because why wouldn’t they?

“Well, my dad’s always been big into statues. Like, when he was younger, he--” You cut yourself off. “That’s not important. Anyway, my mom invited us to spend Christmas at the house.” Tara’s eyes lit up, a type of joy that she didn’t know existed rushing through her. Us? she thought. I’ve been invited to family Christmas? “Do you want to go--”

“Yes!” she exclaimed immediately, nodding her head fervently. “Please, yes.” Shit, I’ll need to buy presents. What the hell do you get for kids who could buy anything they’ve ever wanted?

You giggled at her enthusiasm and tilted your head. “Are you sure you and Sam aren’t going back to California for the holidays?” you asked.

Back to California? Back to…Woodsboro? She furrowed her eyebrows, biting her bottom lip. “Why would we go to Cali?”

You squirmed a little where you stood. What’s she so nervous about? she wondered. “I just thought you might want to see your mom?” Your voice pitched on the last word, and Tara tensed, her arms falling to her sides. You frowned and reached out, but she pulled back, swallowing.

“No, there’s--we’re not--no,” she stammered out, her voice short. She shook her head. “I’ll be here.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

Tara wanted the conversation to be over, but your lips were pursed like you still had something you wanted to say. “What?” she asked.

You shook your head. “Nothing!”

She clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes at you. “No, you look like you have something to say. What?”

“I just…you’ve never spoken about her. Maybe we could--”

That’s because there’s nothing to say.” She’s good for nothing, she thought. “I don’t like to talk about her.” I’d rather read Shakespeare, which is really saying something.

“But--”

“No.” Her voice was stern, clear-cut, and she watched as you deflated a little, your eyes flitting around the room. She sighed, running a hand down her face. “I’m not doing this right now, okay? I’m not talking about her.”

“Tar…” The nickname came out as a coo, soft and careful and meant to be comforting, but it ignited a strange irritation beneath Tara’s skin, and something in her snapped.

“Listen, we can’t all have a perfect-fucking-family, okay?” she shouted, and you flinched, taking a step back, your eyes widening at her sudden outburst. “Just because you have parents who are there and who care doesn’t mean everyone does! I mean, Jesus, my mom didn’t even come to see me last year after--” After Amber stabbed me half-to-death, she finished in her head.

The air was tense, quiet. You stood in front of her, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, and Tara cursed herself when she noticed that your hands were trembling slightly.

“Baby…” She reached out for you, but her fingers met open air as you shook your head and crossed the room to grab your things from her bed.

“It’s fine. I--I shouldn’t have pushed,” you rushed out, your voice shaking. You threw your notebook and laptop into your backpack hastily before hurrying to the door. Tara stood, desperate to do something to stop you from leaving, but she didn’t get the chance as you said, “I’m sorry.” Of course she’d apologize when I snapped at her. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

The door shutting behind you pulled all the air from Tara’s lungs, and she fell back into her chair, holding her face in her hands.

“God fucking damnit,” she groaned. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

* * *

Hours later--during which Tara had sat in her bed and moped--there was a knock on her bedroom door. For a brief second, she thought it was you. But there would be no reason for her to come back after I got mad at her, she reminded herself, and any hope she had disappeared when Sam walked into the room, a frown on her face.

“I thought Y/N was staying for dinner so you two could study through it,” Sam said, bringing Tara’s attention right back to the fact that you had left. She stepped into the room, her arms crossed over her chest, and asked, “What happened? You’re all”--she gestured at Tara--“sad.”

Tara huffed, glaring at her sister. “Nothing,” she grumbled.

Sam scoffed. “Oh, please. You and Y/N have been attached at the hip since the start of finals.” She shook her head. “Scratch that--since you two began dating. So, what happened, Tara?”

Stupid Sam, being a good older sister. Tara sighed and relented. “She asked about mom.”

“Oh.” Sam frowned. “And what did you say?”

“I--” Was a bad girlfriend and got mad at her for no reason, Tara thought, shame seeping into her veins. “I snapped at her. I didn’t mean to. It’s just…mom’s a tough topic, and it’s even harder because Y/N’s family-life is so perfect.” She clenched her jaw and glanced away, ignoring the spark of jealous lighting in her chest. “She’s got two parents who are there, and they have money, and she’s just…” Perfect.

Sam tilted her head, walking over and sitting beside Tara. “You know, it wasn’t easy for me to tell Danny about mom, either. He’s in the same boat as Y/N--well, not the super rich family part, but his parents are together and there.” She shrugged. “It’s hard not to envy that, but she’s your girlfriend, so you’ll need to talk to her about mom at some point. She deserves to know.”

Tara nodded, hanging her head. “I know. I feel horrible for getting upset with her.” She gestured lamely at her phone. “I tried texting and calling her, but…” She pointed across the room, where your phone still sat on her desk. “Obviously that didn’t work.”

Sam hummed. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, Tara. Maybe she just needed a minute.” She rested her hand on Tara’s shoulder. “Plus, she’ll need her phone.”

“What if she comes back and breaks up with me?” Tara asked, looking up at Sam with wide eyes. What if she never speaks to me again? she thought. What if this is it? What if--

“Every couple has arguments, Tara.” Sam smiled softly at her. “She’s not going to break up with you over this. That girl’s head over heels for you, even more than you are for her. It’s gonna be okay, okay?”

Tara bit the inside of her cheek. “Yeah, okay,” she said, not missing the sorrow in her own voice. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” Sam stood, her hands on her hips and her head tilted. “Now, should we get Chinese food or pizza?”

* * *

Sam was right: you did just need a minute.

It was as Tara was getting ready for bed that she heard a knock on the front door. Sam’ll deal with it, she decided as she climbed beneath her sheets, ready to lay in the darkness and wallow for a while. Just as she was reaching over to turn off her bedside lamp, a certain name caught her attention.

“Oh, hi, Y/N!” Sam said loudly from the living room, and Tara knew she had raised her voice so that she would know who was at the door. She sat up immediately. Y/N is here? What? There was some mumbling before Sam’s voice came again. “Yeah, she’s in her room. Go ahead.”

Moments later, there were soft knocks against her bedroom door, and Tara scrambled out of her bed, rushing across the room to open the door for you. There you stood, your lips pulled in a downturned smile and your eyes wide with worry.

“Hey, pretty girl,” you muttered. You were still wearing the same clothes from the day, and your backpack was still hanging off your shoulders. Did she not go home? she wondered, furrowing her eyebrows. You pulled your arm out from behind you, revealing a small bouquet of flowers. “Got you these.”

Tara blinked. She bought me flowers?!  “I--Thanks?” She took them from your outstretched hand. “What are you doing here?”

“I said I’d see you later, didn’t I?” you tried to joke, but your voice was strained, like you were trying to be careful, and Tara felt guilt prick at her knowing that she was the cause. “Could I come in?”

“Oh, yeah. Of course. Always,” she rushed out, moving to her bed to sit. She placed the flowers on her bedside table and watched as you sat in front of her, fingers playing with her blanket. “So, what’s up?” ‘What’s up?’ Really? That’s the best I can do?

You sighed, a shaky breath falling from your lips. “I want to apologize,” you said. “I didn’t mean to push you into talking about your mom earlier. I know she’s a touchy subject.”

Tara frowned. “Why are you apologizing? I’m sorry for shouting at you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

You shook your head, glancing up and finally making eye-contact with her. “No, it’s okay. You didn’t want to talk about her. And, that’s okay.” You shrugged and offered her a comforting smile. “You don’t have to tell me about her…ever, if you don’t want to.”

“I should, though. I mean, we should talk about her.”

“Tara, you really don’t have to--”

“No, I--I want to.” Want’s a strong word, she thought. But I should.

“Okay,” you said, nodding and giving her your full attention. “You have the floor.”

She sighed heavily. “Well, my dad left when I was 8. My mom started working more so that she could afford Sam and I, but it turned more into an obsession for her, I think. Next thing I knew, she was never there. Sam left home when I was 13, and it was just me.” She shrugged, glancing down and fiddling with her fingers. “Then, Sam came back after I was attacked, and my mom wouldn’t talk to her, so we made the choice to cut her off. I haven’t spoken to her since we moved.”

Tara clicked her tongue, looking back up at you. To her surprise, your face wasn’t full of the pity she was used to seeing after telling people about her past; you were watching her carefully, looking close to tears.

“So, that’s that,” she said awkwardly.

You inhaled sharply, blinking your glassy eyes away. “You didn’t deserve any of that, Tar, and I’m sorry that you had to deal with it.” You reached out, your hand cupping her cheek, and she leaned into your touch. “I’m so happy that you’ve found your family.”

Her heart fluttered at your words, her mind flashing to Sam and Mindy and Chad. “Yeah,” she agreed. “I am, too. I really love those guys.” And I’ve found you, too, she thought. You make it all complete.

You grinned, and she practically melted into her mattress. “Good. They’re good--all of them.”

She giggled. “C’mere.” She wrapped her arms around your shoulders and pulled you to lay down with her, your face nuzzled into her neck. She laughed at the feeling of your nose against her skin, and said, “I love you. Like, a lot.”

Your arms wrapped around her waist, and you squeezed lightly. “I love you, like, a lot, too.” You sighed into her. “And I’m sorry for leaving like that earlier. I just…I don’t do well with raised voices.”

Huh? Suddenly, she was on high alert. Why not? What happened? “Any particular reason?”

You twisted in her hold so that you could lay beside her, your gaze trained on the ceiling. She scooted down so that her head was level with yours and looked at you, tracing your side profile with her eyes. So pretty, she thought. Wait, stay on topic, Tara.

You clenched your jaw. “We’ve never talked about it, but, um, my dad…” You closed your eyes. “When I was younger, my dad had a big drinking problem.” Her eyebrows furrowed. Her dad? That man? Really? “He was never physical,” you said, shaking your head lightly. “But he had a temper when he was drunk, and everything I did was always wrong.”

“Oh, Y/N,” she sighed, intertwining her fingers with yours. Your grip was tight, like she would float away if you didn’t hold on.

“He’d yell a lot, at me, at my mom.” Oh, baby. Your thumb rubbed over the skin of her hand. “But he’s good now. He got better after the boys were born--got sober. He hasn’t had a drink since.” You turned your head, looking back at her.

“He’s not, like, obsessed with apples, or anything,” you said. What does that have to do with the conversation? she wondered. “But, he eats them a lot when we have parties. That was his thing--eat an apple when he wanted a drink. It stuck, so we keep the fridge stocked, and any time someone sees him even look in the direction of alcohol, we get him an apple.” You smiled. “He eats them begrudgingly, but he’ll never have an apple out of his own volition now.”

Tara chuckled softly. “I’m happy he’s better now, but I’m sorry you dealt with that. I’m sure it wasn’t easy.”

You shrugged, leaning closer so that your forehead rested against her cheek. “It’s okay now. I’m alright,” you promised. “Just…never buy that man an apple, alright?” you joked, easing the tension in the air.

“Deal,” she agreed, nudging your head up. She leaned in, kissed you, and said, “I guess no family’s perfect after all, huh?” when she pulled away.

“I guess not.” You grinned, leaning up on your elbow to hover over her. “But, maybe ours could be the first.”

Her heart practically stopped, and she couldn’t help the smile that took over her face. Ours? she thought. She felt like she wanted to burst from the amount of joy that came with that thought. Yeah. Ours.

“Okay.” She pushed herself up and kissed you again. “Ours will be the first.”

[piratefern]

Hi everyone :3 just a heads up that I have mock exams to revise for in three weeks time, ill try and get episodes out as usual, but i thought id just say incase I cant! (Monday 13th’s episode will be out dw)

so I thought I’d share the first extract of season two for funsies :3 (to be clear, this is not chapter 2, its season 2!)

Its not the whole chapter mind you :3 (contains contextual references to previous chapters that aren’t out yet btw)

Chapter 1 S2 The moon

Year: late 1601, The Anglo-Spanish War

(We see a zoom out of a bunch of corpses in a field, we zoom in and hasel is walking to a man who is still alive but barely clinging on)

(He crouches down, puts his hand on his shoulder comfortingly. He looks down, the man is breathing shallowly, he closes his eyes respectfully)

“What are we doing here again? I think my host is already dying of frostbite!”

(Dyo enters, he’s wearing his usual clothes but no blanket)

“Well if you took a look around you” (he stands up) “zheres a war”

“Was a war”

“Its still going on”

“Obviously-“ (he kicks one of the bodies) “not here! So let’s go!”

“Hm”

“Hm? Hm what? You cant tell me you aren’t freezing!”

(He starts rooting around in his bag, he takes out his book and a scalpel)

“What are you doing?”

(He stares at him with eyes that say ‘are you actually being serious?’)

“Research, Dyo. I am a doctor. I Research”

“Alright! You’re blunter than a spoon you are, gimmie that” (he snatches the orange blanket)

“Oh?” (He puts the scalpel into his temple and the man dies)

“Yeah, like a well used spoon” (he wraps it around himself)

(Hasel takes out a pocket watch and stares intently, we switch to his vision where the vine is squirming but starts slowing)

“Very cherished and loved by a family of 5, and so blunt you can’t even call it a spoon anymore”

“Hm?”

“It’s more of a nub”

(He stops the watch)

“You’re nubby”

(He jots something down in his book)

“Nubby, I like that word”

(He closes his book loudly, it echoes over the field)

(Dyos face goes like •7•)

“4 seconds”

“Hm?”

“For zhe vine to wither once zhe host dies”

(He stands up)

“why did we have to come all the way out here to find that out?”

“A war means we don’t leave a trace”

“Okay?”

“And i wanted to see if zhe cold preserves zhe vine for longer”

“Does it?”

“…no”

“Then why are we out here!”

“Because-“

“And Ireland of all places! Im cold! We had to cross another channel! Twice!”

“Well we didn’t even cross at zhe channel zhe first time did we?” (He narrows his eyes)

“No”

“Because you wanted to go by wagon”

“Yeah”

“And we nearly died”

“We always almost nearly die it’s quite a regular occurrence doctor! plus you can swim now!”

“Ehh…”

“kind of swim”

(Hasel rolls down the eye lids of the man, green wisps follow his hand almost unnoticeable)

“Are you taking this one?”

“What, and swapping clothes in this weather? Not a chance!”

“Suit yourself, im not carrying you around again if we cant find one”

“Aww, dont be so cruel! I thought doctors were meant to protect!”

(He tuts and puts his hands on his knees to stand)

“You promised me we’d see fairies!”

(He takes a glance at him and stifles a chuckle)

“You are such a child”

“They could be real!”

“Zhey arent”

“But we’re real! And just look at us!”

“Mmhm” (he smiles)

(Dyo crosses his arms and turns away)

“Oh Dyo”

“Not talking to you”

“Yes you are”

“…”

“Ill tell you what” (he gets up and puts his stuff back into his bag, he takes out some ginger root)

“We will find a nice place to put our tent, I’ll set up a fire and zhen i will make ginger tea, yes?”

(Dyo opens one eye and looks at him)

“Fine”

“But no fairy hunting”

“Maybe fairy hunting”

(Hasel tuts)

“After tea?” (Hasel leans his head in closer, arms folded)

“After tea” (dyo grabs his hood collar and turns around, pulling him along)

[vamphorica]

mattmello week i: vacation

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category: M/M

Fandom: Death Note (Anime & Manga)

Relationship: Matt | Mail Jeevas/Mello | Mihael Keehl

Characters: Matt | Mail Jeevas, Mello | Mihael Keehl

Additional Tags: Vacation, Beach Holidays, Childhood Sweethearts, Wammy's House Era (Death Note), Wammy's House (Death Note), Fluff, Public Display of Affection, Gentle Kissing, Gift Giving, Canon Compliant

Word Count: 2,777

Series: Part 1 of MattMello Week 2024 | @mattmelloweek

Summary: Matt and Mello decide to take a spontaneous trip to the seaside.

────────────────────────────

“I’m bored, let’s run away.”

October had brought about with it the mundanity of the forthcoming academic year, no longer enticing in its promise of long hours studying in the library to fixate on specialist subjects. Once again, there were exams to sit that required revision on topics that were frankly boring, and Mello was becoming more and more agitated with each paper, the fear of bad results paralysing him at the bedroom desk for hours on end. The week of respite that was afforded for Christmas was some distant fantasy, and as Matt rested his chin on the other boy’s shoulder, he knew it was time they escaped from this place, even if for a brief moment.

“And where exactly do you propose we go?” Mello mumbled, distracted by the encyclopaedia propped up against the wall that he was using to copy his reference notes. He wrote fast, Matt noticed, but his script was beautiful and easy to read. Bastard.

Matt moved his face so he buried his nose in Mello’s blond curtain of hair, breathing deeply, “We can go to the coast and back in a day.” He pulled back suddenly, cupping his hands across his face as he sneezed loudly. Mello rolled his eyes, flicking a page.

“Hardly beach season, is it?”

Matt shrugged, “Do you want to go away or not?”

“My History exam is in three days.”

“Great, tomorrow it is then.” Matt grinned, “I’ll set the alarm nice and early.”

────────────────────────────

Mello had always been the early riser of the two, and was growing frustrated at how incessantly Matt moaned about his self-inflicted exhaustion. They had scaled the gates at the crack of dawn, taking nothing but a small backpack that contained the accumulation of coins that they had both hoarded over several months from various circumstances since forgotten about. The train station proved to be a nightmare, with Mello notably irritable at how persistent the ticket seller was in interrogating them about their ages and why they intended to travel to the seaside on this rather cold Tuesday morning. Yes, they may have been bunking, but Mello hardly thought it was any of her business to be so intrusive.

“I got no sleep at all last night…”

“Shut up. Take a nap on the train or something, you shouldn’t have stayed up.” Sharing a dormitory with Matt had long since taught Mello to tolerate the repeated beeping that emanated from Matt’s various consoles that he played into the night. The rhythmic pattern they tended to possess often helped him drift to sleep himself anyway, “Need I remind you that this was your idea?”

Matt made a noise akin to an injured puppy, his hand slipping into Mello’s as the train heaved into the station. The blast of air confronted them with the reality of this little adventure that they were about to pursue. Mello squeezed Matt’s hand, and they stepped into the carriage, accompanied by a certain nervous excitement in anticipation of the day ahead.

While Matt did fall asleep the moment that the two sat down, Mello was intrigued by the journey, fixated on watching the rush of blurred landscapes from the window for the entirety of the two hours. His memories of arriving at the House were hazy things that arose only occasionally, but aside from that car journey, he had never travelled this far before. With Matt by his side, any anxieties of arriving somewhere completely new dissipated, replaced instead by a lingering curiosity of the world outside the confines of Winchester.

“Wake up.” Mello nudged Matt as they arrived, prompting the redhead to open his eyes slowly, frowning, “We’re here.”

“Already?”

Mello nodded, standing up, “You coming, or what?”

The two stumbled off the train to the quiet unfamiliarity of a strange place. The platform was empty and the grey clouds above promised nothing pleasant regarding the day’s weather prospects. The two looked at one another as they often did in these moments of uncertainty, but they had come all this way in search of something different from the claustrophobia of the House, which Mello insisted he knew well enough to give a decent estimate of how many bricks it was made up of.

“Let’s go.”

It was obvious this was a town that woke up for the summer, then proceeded to hibernate for the rest of the year. Storefronts selling buckets and spades, postcards, and other tat stood neglected along the narrow high street leading up to the coastline, and the few pensioners that roamed around peered suspiciously at the two small twelve year old boys that passed them by, as if they were breaching their territory. Mello stared back at them in defiance, hardly in the mood to be intimidated by these strangers, but Matt quietly averted his gaze to the cobbled ground, his hands nestled deep in his pockets.

The sea greeted the boys soon enough, stretching out into the whiteness of the autumnal sky as it lapped at the pebbled shore. There was a certain stale smell to the air and the soft cawing of gulls echoed in the isolation; all of a sudden Matt and Mello were the only people in the world. There had always been people around them their entire lives, mostly adults monitoring them and forcing them to comply with their strict rules about who they were meant to become. Yet now, in this empty beach town with its long stretch of seclusion and its cool, sharp breeze, Matt and Mello could sense the enticing opportunity of freedom for the first time.

“Let’s go in the sea.” Matt turned to Mello, a grin lighting up his expression.

“It’ll be damn freezing!”

“We can just take our shoes off and roll our trousers up.” Matt had already begun making his way to the shoreline, treading over the rocks carefully, and Mello quickly followed behind, hardly as resistant to the idea as he would have liked Matt to believe. They kicked off their trainers and discarded them without much concern as to whether they would still be there when they returned, before proceeding to fold over their trouser hems quickly, racing against one another to experience the sea for the first time.

“Ready?” Mello asked and Matt nodded. They shuffled close to the lapping waves, before Mello grabbed Matt’s wrist and ran, pulling the redhead alongside him. They both shrieked loudly as the icy water immediately numbed their feet, giggling at the extremity of their joint reaction.

“It’s so cold!”

“Yeah, no shit!”

They waded in as far as they could, until the water rose to their knees, before stopping to glance back at the beach behind them. There really was no one around, and their hands found each other's shirts, instinctively compelled to cling onto one another for a sense of comfort. They knew there was no risk of judgement here, and the warmth of their bodies was a reassurance in contrast to the bitterly chill waves in which they stood.

“Hey, Matt.”

“Yeah?” Before Matt had time to react, Mello slapped a tsunami over him, provoking another loud scream.

“You wanker!” Matt shoved Mello, causing the blonde to lose his footing and crash down into the sea, which snatched him as if reclaiming something sentimental once lost. Matt immediately grabbed a flailing hand that remained outstretched, pulling the completely damp Mello upright again, smacking his back as he hacked loudly, saltwater caught in his throat. He recovered quickly enough, but not without scowling at Matt.

“Sorry…” Matt mumbled, before attempting a small smirk, “Guess you won’t need a shower tonight.” Mello punched his arm softly, before pressing himself close to the other, giving Matt the opportunity to wrap his arms around Mello tightly, burying his face in the soft curve of his neck and shoulder. He forgot Mello could be fragile too, sometimes.

They stood together like this for a quiet moment before Mello complained that he was cold, and they made their way back up to the shore, wincing as their feet suffered against the hard rocks beneath. Their shoes remained where they had left them, and they gratefully sat down to slide them back on. Matt pulled off his hoodie and began patting Mello’s hair dry uselessly.

“I’m fine, I’m fine…” Mello resisted, but he appreciated the gesture, as ridiculous as it was, “Matt, I’m hungry. Do we have money for food?”

“Yeah.” Matt counted out ten quid from what he could find at the bottom of the backpack, “What do you want?”

“Anything. Well, not ice cream.”

Matt smiled, and stood up, “I’ll see what I can do.”

────────────────────────────

“What can I get for you, son?” The man at the counter was significantly younger than the other residents they had seen so far, and his accent was wildly different to what Matt had heard before, throwing him off as he stared at the battered fish before him blankly.

“What do you have?”

The man laughed, making Matt feel like an idiot, but as he pointed up the menu behind him, Matt could see that the options were limited to fish and chips. They sometimes had it for lunch at the House, but Mello was a picky eater and Matt did not fancy taking a risk.

“Chips. Please.”

The man nodded and began piling a generous portion onto a sheet of newspaper before wrapping it up. Matt wasn't entirely sure of what he thought about this practice but knew better than to comment on it. He exchanged it for the coins and as the man counted his change, he felt the warmth from his parcel melt away the sting of his frozen fingers. Mello would appreciate having something hot to eat.

He found Mello where he left him, sat up with his legs pulled tight against his chest and Matt’s hoodie draped over his shoulders like a cape. It had become sodden as it caught the droplets of water that fell from the strands of his golden hair. Matt sat down as close to him as he could, crossing his legs and laying the package in the centre of his lap before opening it up.

“Here we go. They're hot, so be careful.”

Mello smiled, picking a chip up and blowing on it gently before putting it in his mouth.

“That's really good.”

Matt tested one himself, and nodded his head in agreement, “Yeah. It is.”

Before they knew it, they had attacked a good half of the portion, their fingers slick with grease and crystals of salt. There was something that felt a little bit mischievous about it, for although Wammy’s didn't discourage unhealthy eating habits, it felt like a confirmation of what they had set out to do by taking this little excursion from the boredom of their everyday lives back at the House. Maybe it was because of this that Matt felt a surge of confidence rise within.

“You've got something on your face.” He commented nonchalantly and, without giving Mello time to respond, gently tilted his face with one hand and pressed his lips onto the blonde’s. They had kissed before, once or twice, in the shadows of the corridors while everyone was asleep, but Matt had always felt compelled to initiate it more brazenly. He felt Mello’s lips move against his and they sat with the saltiness of one another for a few moments before reluctantly disengaging.

“I found something while you were gone.” Mello mumbled, and Matt raised an eyebrow, curiosity peaked. Mello gently took the frames of Matt's goggles and pulled them down so they hung around his neck. Matt blinked. It really was a grey day today, now that the world was no longer bathed in a warm hue.

Turning around, Mello picked up something from the ground and then held it up to Matt. A piece of vivid green seaglass, smooth and bright, “I was surprised to find any here, actually, but it's like I thought. It matches your eyes.”

“Oh.” Matt didn’t really know why he struggled with an appropriate response to this, but his chest felt distinctly heavy with adoration for the boy before him. Mello recognised a piece of Matt in this strange landscape. He smiled softly, “Thanks.”

Mello nodded and handed it to Matt, who turned it over in his palm, comforted by its flawless texture, “Do we have to go back to the House?”

“Hm? Yeah, Matt. We do.”

“What if we just stayed here? Or took a train to London. We could even fly to the States from there.”

“With what money? Besides, they’ll find us eventually, you know.” Mello sighed, resting his chin on his knees. Matt leaned against him, relieved that his clothes had more or less dried now, even if it was inevitable that he would go down with a cold in a matter of days, “We don’t have the luxury to just run away – like it or not, we are successors. Sooner than later, I expect, L will have to make a choice about who he wants to take over when he dies.”

“You’re right. I just wish we didn’t have to deal with the pressure.” Matt replied quietly. It was not really the pressure he faced that concerned him, but rather the effect it had on Mello. He had watched how his studies consumed him, how obsession with his position in the House ate away at him with an unrelenting force. Matt had always known that such a trip as this was never going to deter Mello away from the House’s ambitious expectations, but he had hoped that it at least reminded him that there was more to life than the grades that held him captive.

“We should buy a postcard before we go.” Mello announced suddenly.

“Why? Who would we send it to?”

“We can keep it as a memento. Come on.”

The two boys scuffled up, neglecting the remainder of the chips on the shore as an offering to the gulls that had been circling close by, and drifted back towards the high street. The sun was already setting, casting the shops in a warm glow, and Mello dragged Matt into a small store that still had its ‘open’ sign turned outward. It was a musty little establishment, full of all kinds of oddities and junk that only a seaside town could make appear mildly endearing. Matt stared at a collection of taxidermied rats wearing clown outfits in horror as Mello made his way to the postcard stand.

“This place is so creepy.” Matt muttered in a hushed tone, but Mello ignored him as he sifted through the postcards, disappointed by the selection that was on display. Outdated Jubilee celebrations for various Royal Family members, postcards from Mallorca and Budapest, an assortment of ‘Get Well Soon’ cards. He was close to giving up until something caught his eye.

“Greetings from Los Angeles, California.” He read across the front of the faded postcard, depicting a sprawling skyline of tall buildings and palm trees, the sky blue and clear in a manner that looked almost artificial, especially in comparison to the bleakness of this little town. Mello could not quite place his finger on it, but something drew him to the image, something he wanted to hold onto.

“Yeah, come on, let’s go.” Mello muttered, his eyes darting over to the woman at the counter, who appeared half asleep. He slipped the card in the inner pocket of his jacket, without even Matt noticing, and they left the shop, only the small sound of the bell behind them indicating they had ever been there to begin with.

────────────────────────────

Despite the mild panic Matt and Mello felt upon realising that they were two pounds short of covering the fare back, only managing to earn after hanging around unashamedly begging for change to use at the telephone box, the two eventually caught the last train back to the House. Mello could feel himself drifting off, catching his head falling against his chest as he tried to blink some energy into the final stretch of the day.

Matt repositioned himself so that he could encourage Mello to lean his head against his shoulder, his hand rubbing the blonde’s thigh reassuringly, “Do you reckon Roger will be angry?”

“Mhm.” Mello replied, “Why, you scared?”

“No! No, I really enjoyed today. I’ll take whatever punishment.” He smiled, “Promise me we will run away together again soon, please?”

Mello’s eyelids felt too heavy to fight against, and as he breathed in the familiar smell of Matt, his mind wandered to that bright sunny skyline of the postcard buried in his jacket.

“Yes Matt, we will.”

[shortstrawberry]

OKAY HI can I please request a oneshot of possessive Donna/mc being all fluffy and wholesome and possessive because mc finished their exams and they haven't seen each other for a while because of exam season? Please and thank you ♥️

"I'm back--oof!"

You had barely stepped into the flower shop before you were glomped by a figure clad in black. Well, someone is really happ to see you.

You knew Donna must probably be waiting for your exam to finish and you to come back, but you didn't exactly expect to be greeted this way.

You hugged Donna back, your arms encircling her waist, clutching at her black shirt. You felt the older woman's arms tightening around you in response.

"Cazzo, fuck. I missed you dolcezza. I missed you so much"

Donna nuzzled her nose against your neck, burying her face in your shoulder. God, you could almost melt in this woman's arms. She's as warm as the sunlight that shines in the greenhouse every morning.

Knowing how tough Donna is beneath her oversized clothes, you squeezed her as tight as you can. After being away from her for over two weeks, you just want to make a home inside her and never leave.

"I told you I could visit in between. But you refused!"

Donna groaned against your neck, before peppering several needy kisses against your skin there.

"I know, I know, and I regretted every single time I refused, Dolcezza. But I needed to make sure you do well in your exam."

"Why? What harm would one visit have done?"

Donna pulled back, looking down at you with a gleam in her gray eyes.

"I would never have let you go back, Dolcezza. We can't have that during your exam, right?"

Aah, yes. Its getting harder and harder for your florist to let you go back to the dorm. Hell, it's hard for you to sleep alone in your dorm bed. You miss the warmth of your broody dollmaker. You know it's only a matter of time when you yourself move into Donna's little cottage.

You reached up to kiss Donna's lips in thanks. Despite her obvious desire for you to stay around her, she would always put your studies above her. You adore just how sweet and selfless Donna is.

"Thank you for your patience. But I'm here now, and not going anywhere."

Donna pulled you closer, a slow mischievous smile coming on her full lips.

"Careful with your words, love. I might take them seriously."

You kiss her again, this time longer than before.

"I want you to take them seriously."

Donna blinked, and you swear you see tears in the corner of her beautiful eyes. You immediately cup her face in your hands, your eyes looking up at her in concern.

"Donna? What's wrong?"

The older woman shook her head to assure you, but you didn't miss the slight wobble of her lips.

"It's nothing, dolcezza."

You refuse to believe that.

"C'mon, it cannot be nothing. Tell me."

Donna's shoulders finally sagged, and her hands curled on your back.

"It's just, I thought you'd never come back. Every single day for the past two weeks, I waited in front of the door, hoping to see just a glimpse of your face. So, to finally have you back in my arms, it's a joy unlike any other. Impazzirò di gioia, dolcezza."

You wanted to remind your precious wallflower that you had texted Donna every single morning and night. But you know that isn't the same reassurance for Donna. For some reason, unless and until you're in front of Donna's eyes, she would believe that you'll leave any time.

You wonder just what makes your strong florist so insecure. But now is not the right time. Maybe sometime later, when you both are together under the same sheets.

For now, you will reassure her with words you always say to her.

"I'll come back to you. I'll always come back to you, sweetheart."

Donna pressed her lips against you, whispering on your mouth.

"Always?"

You hummed against her, letting yourself fall against the florist.

"Always."

[sfblah]

The Cleanup Crew - Tactical Maid Service

[Next Chapter]

A while back I was waffling on about how I finally wrote something again, and so here it is. I was holding out cuz I wanted to have more of the next chapter(s) finished first, but I figured I should just go ahead and post this before a million years go by. As usual it's a send up of various anime tropes, as well as my inner repressed 16 year old that never stopped playing too many first person shooters.

Female sneezes - Dust

Operation "Hurry"

A spotlight switches on with a sharp kcham, illuminating a circle on the warehouse’s concrete floor. In its center stands a young woman clad in a black and white maid’s uniform, the cloth slightly wrinkled, but hardly noticeable at a distance. She holds her hands together calmly in front of her waist, though only for a moment before she caves to the urge to visor her eyes from the blinding light.

“Alright, last one for today,” grumbles an unseen voice from somewhere up above. After a brief pause, the maid fidgets and points to herself.

“Um, me?” she asks, looking at where she assumes her proctor must be.

“No, behind you.”

The maid turns around, and an incredulous groan immediately follows.

“Yes, you. Jesus, how’d a bucket like you pass selection? Ugh, forget it. Step forward.”

A series of overhead lights activate in sequence, revealing the entrance to the examination course. Still fidgeting, the maid approaches.

“Grab one of the weapons from the table.”

She hadn’t even noticed the table until the proctor pointed it out. Atop the rough wooden surface sits a sawed-off double barrel shotgun, a half-empty box of shells, and absolutely nothing else.

“This is the only one here,” observes the maid.

“You want it or not!?” snaps the voice from on high, startling the trainee half a foot into the air.

“Alright, alright, jeez,” the maid replies, retrieving the weapon. She breaks it open, loads two of her meager collection of shells, and after a brief struggle, slips it into the concealed holster under the back of her skirt.

“Okay, moving right along,” the proctor continues. “Yadda yadda, complete the course as quickly as you can, yadda yadda. By beginning the examination you consent to hrmm meh meh, you waive your right to blah, blah, blah… Look, this is the fiftieth time I’ve read this today. You know what to do, right? Just go through the thing.”

The maid blinks, glancing back and forth between the door and the still-obscured source of the voice.

“Uh. Yeah, totally. For sure.”

A single clap echoes in the rafters.

“Okay, great, great. Start whenever you’re ready. I’m gonna go grab a ham sandwich.”

Footsteps on the catwalk above fade into the distance, leaving the maid to shrug and shake her head.

“Yeah, okay. Rude?” she mumbles to herself, turning to face the entrance to her final test. A plywood facsimile of a foyer is visible through the open door, decorated with a few plastic houseplants. The maid cautiously sticks her head through the threshold, half expecting to be hit in the face by some manner of contraption. To her amazement, nothing happens. Suspiciously so, in fact. She proceeds to creep across the room, eyeing the doors on either side of the far wall, but she slows to a stop when something else catches her attention.

A metal grate is set into the wall. Neither near the ceiling nor the floor, it seems oddly out of place even in the industrial approximation of a manor. Almost as if it isn’t supposed to be there. Looking back over her shoulder, the maid approaches and discovers all but one of the screws meant to hold the grate in place are missing. After one more glance up at the vacant walkways above, she simply swings the grate aside and hauls herself through the opening.

Perhaps a more seasoned operator might have thought to look through the grate at some point before opening it. The unlucky maid assumed she was about to skip ahead in the exam course, but instead she finds herself wedged into a cramped metal duct, arms pinned to her sides and feet kicking uselessly in the air. Before even opening her eyes to take stock of her new surroundings, she stubbornly wiggles herself deeper into the vent.

“Well, this was a stupid idea…”

The test proctor may not have been watching, but the fates were certainly listening. When the maid took a deep breath to gather her strength, she instead succeeded only in filling her big, clumsy nose with dust. Her flailing legs go limp, and the warehouse hangs in silence for a moment before…

“ah-ahh-ahhh-CHOOOO!!!”

The maid’s loud, powerful sneeze did nothing to clear her sinuses. On the contrary, the remaining dust that had settled in the vent was scattered into the air, only exacerbating her need to sneeze again.

“ah-ahh-CHOO!!”

And again.

“haa-CHOO!”

And again…

“ah-ahh… AHH-CHHOOOOOOO!!!”

Her frantic wiggling resumes, adding a chorus of popping and straining sheet metal to the cacophony. Mercifully the duct isn’t especially long, and eventually the maid manages to shimmy and sneeze herself far enough along to free her arms and fully push herself out the other side. She lands upside down in a heap, legs kicking one more time as she gives another “ah-CHOOO!”

The maid rolls herself upright, sitting on the floor of an unexplored part of the test. Instead of reorienting herself, she shakes her head and begins to rub her tickly nose up, down, and all around with the palm of her hand. Finally she cracks one eye open with a thick, wet sniff. The room is dark, but it again appears to be plywood construction with more fake plants.

“Hey, Bucket? Where’d you go?” calls the proctor through a mouthful of food. The maid just manages to register their footsteps approaching from somewhere behind before she folds over with a screamed “HA-CHOOOO!!”

The footsteps quicken to an awkward jog, soon arriving overhead.

“Oh, shit! I didn’t think you’d get this far already. Let me just…”

The room lights up, and the maid has no time at all to absorb her surroundings before cardboard targets burst out of every nook and cranny, and the deafening sounds of recorded gunfire fill the air. If the maid had bothered to stand, imaginary bullets would have already torn her to shreds. Instead she sits in dubious comfort behind a couch, desperately rubbing her nose.

“Intruders! Shoot the targets!” shouts the proctor, scarcely audible over the chaos. The maid fumbles for her shotgun, nearly pulling her skirt down to her ankles before she manages to retrieve it from its holster. Then, barely able to keep her eyes open, she peeks over the back of the couch, points her weapon roughly in the direction of one of the cardboard cutouts, and pulls the trigger.

The recoil sends the maid falling back to the ground, where she remains for a moment as she gasps and heaves forth a strained “ah-ahh-CHHOOO!” She shakily returns to her feet and repeats the process, shooting, falling, and sneezing all over again. This time she doesn’t stand, deciding to reload first. She opens her shotgun and dumps out the two empty shells, then begins to feel around under her skirt for more.

“Remember, switching to your pistol is always faster than reloading!” the proctor advises.

“I don’t have a pistol!” shrieks the maid, kicking her feet up and down.

“Shit, uh, sorry…”

Just as the maid finally manages to fumble a shell into one of her shotgun’s barrels, a falling hunk of metal hits her right on the nose. She screams and covers her face, rolling onto her side and unknowingly kicking her shotgun across the floor. What the hell even was this test? If she’d known she was going to be treated like this, she would have just stayed home and stuck to video games.

Her right hand finds the dropped pistol after a few aimless slaps on the floor. Knuckles white on the grip and breathing heavily through clenched teeth, the maid rises to her feet, takes what she assumes is a shooting stance of some kind, and fires wildly at the remaining targets. She continues pulling the trigger even after she expends her last bullet and the pistol’s slide locks back, only coming down from her rage when the simulated gunfire stops.

Somehow, against all odds, each of the cardboard targets have been neatly punctured. Well, maybe not neatly, but good enough. The maid lets her arms fall to her sides, and soon her jaw and eyelids begin to droop in turn. Her head tips back, her large, teardrop-shaped nostrils flare, and…

“AAHHH-CHHHOOOOOOOO!!!”

And she doesn’t stop sneezing for the next… She doesn’t even know how long. Somebody takes her by the shoulders, leads her somewhere, and someone else begins to address her, all while she continues to sneeze.

“Hello, and allow me to congratulate you on passing your final assessment.” This new voice is lower and softer, not that the maid is able to pay any attention.

“ah-CHOO!”

“Your form says your callsign is ‘Bucket’? Is that right?”

“Aaah-CHOOO!!”

“Wonderful. Let me be the first to welcome you to The Cleanup Crew.”

[expectodragons]

The Art of Receiving || 18+ Oneshot

✦ Summary: The stress of studying for your final exams is finally getting to you and you're in desperate need of some relief.

✦ Pairing: Aesop Sharp x Female Reader

✦ Word Count: 2,230

✦ Rating: Explicit, 18+ only - minors do not interact.

✦ Tags / Warnings: Age difference, oral sex (f!receiving), PWP, reader is of age, slight power dynamics, student/professor relationship, vaginal fingering.

It was not often you found yourself in use of the bath in the Prefect’s bathroom. The place was a privilege for but a select few students, yourself included. Being a Quidditch Captain did have its benefits, after all. But rarely did you find the time, or the need, to traverse the many steps up to the hidden room.

Today, however, had given you every single reason to seek out the vast warm waters of the pool-like tub.

Exam season was upon the castle and your nerves, in particular, were due to fry if you spent another moment huddled over a dusty tome in the library with your group of fellow seventh-years. Between a series of challenging classes and the overwhelming air of expectation that was placed upon you by your professors, you were a step short of collapsing.

You had felt your eyes blurring together the words of Malinda Haddock and her many essays on the intricacies of advanced Transfiguration in the fifteenth century. Your head had pounded against the table, much to the concern of Poppy who had been working alongside you.

It felt like your mind could consume no more information – a sponge already seeping out water – you were at your fill of knowledge. And nothing the famed witch could say about the difficulties of transfiguring avian creatures into knitting needles could breach your mental walls.

So, with a weary pace, you had found yourself taking the long journey up to the top of the South Wing’s tower. Flicking the spigot on every faucet until the bath filled with technicolor soap and kaleidoscope-colored bubbles floated into the air. Time had passed without your awareness, so lost in the delicious sensation of warm water rippling over your stressed shoulders.

But, when you at last extracted yourself from the lovely bath and had dried and dressed yourself once again, you finally took notice of the time. Curfew was due to start in but a few minutes and dinner was obviously out of the question.

As you descend the spiral staircase, eager to pick up your pace in an effort to make it to your common room before the clock strikes the hour, you find yourself face-to-face with a particular Potion Master.

“Ah,” Sharp says your name in that slow sardonic tone. He peers up at you from his lower position on the staircase.

“Professor Sharp,” you say in polite admonishment.

If he held you up any longer, you would never make it to your common room in time.

Sharp takes a step, and then another. And even though he’s three steps below your position on the landing, he’s fully eye-level with you.

“You were absent from dinner this evening.”

Your chin juts out, ever so slightly, “I was. And if you’ll excuse me, I wish to make it to my dorm before curfew begins, sir.”

The professor gives an amused hum of consideration. You feel your cheeks become aflame with heat with the look he bestows upon you.

Resting a hand on the banister, he leans into the rails, as though he has nowhere to be in a particular hurry.

“How are your study sessions coming along? I believe the entirety of your year has taken over Scribner’s domain this past week.”

With a huff of annoyance, an impatience sending your feet rocking back and forth, you respond with a simple, “Fine.”

“And your classes? You’re keeping up with the workload I imagine?”

“Yes, sir. If you excuse me, please. I really must get going.”

Before you can so much as brush past him on the other side of the staircase, Sharp moves another step forward and takes a gentle hold of your right arm – your skin still radiates the warmth from your long bath and you know he can feel it between his fingers as his thumb begins to rub a steady rhythm against your hammering pulse point.

The two of you rarely appeared together outside of the safety of his office. Where he could lock the doors and cast a simple Muffliato upon the room. Your meetings were cherished, but increasingly rare as the days leading up to the NEWTs kept you away. But here, in the Faculty Tower – on the top landing of the tower, at that – you feel a familiar rush of desire pooling in your stomach as Aesop takes a final step forward.

Towering over you now, you can feel his warm breath upon your face. Smell the comforting aroma of sandalwood and musk that lingers on his robes. You can even see the beginnings of that familiar small smile of his that sends your heart racing anytime he shares it with you.

“You must be exhausted, my dear.”

The firm press of his thumb on your wrist has your knees buckling, lost in the weight of his heavy stare.

“It… has been rather stressful.”

“Hmm,” he hums in return. His charcoal-colored eyes bore into you as if undressing you here in the corridor before he seemed to make a decision – a sudden flicker of interest across his face your only warning.

“Perhaps you are in need of some relief, as it were.”

You gulp, feeling a flood of want surging through your chest. Your neck flushes with warmth and your ears begin to burn as you carefully turn your wrist in his hold until your fingers wrap around his thumb.

“Perhaps, sir.”

With a thin smile, Aesop leads you the few short steps up to his personal chambers.

This was one place you had never adventured before.

There had been two, and only two, separate occasions in your time with the potions professor, where a secret rendezvous occurred outside of his office. Once, in a hidden nook in the Bell Tower when the majority of the school was out on a Hogsmeade trip. And one very heated exchange in the changing rooms after a quidditch match when the rest of your team was headed off to the common room to celebrate your victory.

But this?

You allow your gaze to wander around the red-toned room. Taking in the small things that took up your professor’s private space. It was hardly as neat as you would have assumed it to be. Stacks of papers, bottles, and potion tools littered every available space. A lone chair sat before a blazing fire. A curious glance towards an ajar doorway nearly has your attention before Aesop’s hand cups your face.

“Now…” he intones. “What to do with you?”

Creeping up on your tiptoes, you lean into his touch.

“I could think of a thing or two.”

He chuckles, curling a finger through the damp locks of your hair.

“I imagine you could. However…” his gaze goes distant, seemingly transfixed by the droplets of water that travel from your hair down to his finger.

Giving an experimental tug, he brings you closer – holding onto but a single strand of your hair. You allow yourself to be pulled, pressing up to meet his curved smile as a kiss, almost too sweet, is placed upon your lips.

“Poor, poor girl,” he murmurs against your lips, tilted back just enough to keep him from making contact with your eager mouth. “Drowning under the pressure of your studies. Has no one shown you proper care these past few weeks?”

His snide remarks only have you leaning up to try and join your lips together once again, but he remains stubbornly persistent in refusing you further. Much to his own delight, apparently, as a wolfish grin materializes on his face.

And then his hands are traveling down your sides. Fingers pressing into the curve of your waist, the small swell of your stomach, the dip of your hips. As you wrap your arms around his neck, his head lowered to almost rest upon your shoulder, you feel the cool air of the room caress your legs as you find your skirt being pushed up.

“If only someone was willing to spare you a thought, hmm?” he crones.

Calloused fingers meet your bare skin, following the gentle curve of your inner thighs as they trail higher and higher.

“What have we here?”

You can sense the pleased smile on his face as his fingers delve into the wet heat between your legs – your eyes closing and your head tilting back in delight at the first brush of his knuckle across your lips.

Warm breath tickles your ear as teeth gently tug at the lobe.

“Eager indeed.”

At last, you lean against him, moaning a gentle, “Aesop.”

He smirks, removing his hands – allowing your skirt to fall back into place – as he pulls you toward the door across the room. Walking backward, he presses the entry open and leads you into a smaller room. Your eyes flash across an array of furniture, covered portraits, stacks of cauldrons, and books, before falling upon the bed.

“My darling girl,” he smooths, turning you slowly in his embrace until you find your knees backed into the crimson sheets of his bed.

A gentle press on your shoulder has you sitting down like a good student, while the man before you drops to a single knee. Your hands grip the sheets like a vice as your skirt is rolled up onto the tops of your thighs and two large palms press your knees apart.

Sharp settles there, in the V of your legs, as a hand lazily drags through the warm slick of your desire. Perhaps another clever quip could be said then, but his dark gaze has zeroed in on his own fingers now, and with a muffled cry parting from your lips Aesop leans forward and licks a warm stripe up your quim.

Pulling your fist to your mouth, you bite down on the flesh of your fingers as he repeats the action.

Heated breath grazes your cunt and the pleasant sting of his stubble scrapes the smooth flesh of your thighs as a deep moan rumbles across your womanhood.

His hands wind under your knees as he spreads you further open, his nose brushes against your mound, as he dips his tongue into your quivering hole – scooping up every bit of sweet juice he finds dribbling out of you.

“Oh god,” you cry out.

Your hand falls from your mouth to latch into the silky strands of his dark tresses. Pulling him closer as he starts to work a steady rhythm with his mouth. Buried between your thighs like he was meant to always be there, Aesop moans another gravelly sound as he begins to suck your clit between his swollen lips.

Like a man starved, he finds his fill in the juncture of your legs. Licking up everything you have to give him, his hold upon your thighs leaves crescent-shaped bruises that send another delicious wave of pained pleasure toward your core.

“Yes, oh Merlin, yes!”

Urged on by your desperate cries, the potions professor barrels forward, sucking your button in earnest as you tug his hair into a tight grip. You can feel it, the sweet desperate coil in your core. Soon it will snap and your release will paint your lover’s face.

Rocking your hips to meet him, you find yourself grinding against his lips, though that only seems to encourage him as he flicks his tongue over your clit and stares up at you with that glazed-over heavy expression in his eyes.

Sweat clings to his brow and his hair curtains his face, but all you can focus on are those gorgeous eyes. So drunk on you, your taste, your cunt. You find your bundle curling tighter and tighter, your hips rocking in a frantic pattern, as Aesop sucks down your sweet pleasure.

A rumbling moan sends you over the edge as he dives into you with a fervor.

His tongue, almost too rough now, laps up your desire as your hold on his hair loosens and your legs seem to become leaden underneath you.

Slowly, he pulls back – his chin a wash of cum and spit – as he huffs out a few raggedy breaths. His lips grace your thigh with wet kisses before he finally drops your legs back to the ground and carefully eases himself back up.

Taking a place beside you on the bed – where you are now lounged back, breathing several shuddering gasps – Aesop drags his hand across your torso, fingers snagging on the buttons of your blouse. He walks up your sternum before his thumb finds the curve of your bottom lip and tugs down upon the silky flesh.

“Feeling relaxed, dear one?” he murmurs, watching you with a transfixed sort of expression that spoke of feelings more than just casual fleeting interest and obvious lust.

Huffing a lofty laugh, you shake your head – lulling your head to the side so you can meet his gaze.

“So relaxed, I fear I might not be able to move again.”

His hand trails to the curve of your jaw, where he cups your heated flesh – a lone finger rubbing over the delicate skin of your cheek.

“That would truly be a shame if that were the case.”

“Wouldn’t it just?” you smile brightly. Feeling the ticklish tingle of your legs and the overwhelming sensation of undiluted happiness coursing through you.

Sharp hums once again in agreement before he leans down to place a lingering kiss upon your honey-sweet lips.

[i-am-too-sick]

5 times Quinn was sick (or otherwise incapacitated) for his birthday

3.)

"Dude, are you all right?"

Quinn kept walking another two paces before he stopped, glancing sideways. "Are you talking to me?"

Cal rolled his eyes. "No, I'm talking to the person in front of me who looks like Quinn but is definitely just part of the walking dead."

"I don't look that bad," he snorted. He knew he looked rough, he wouldn't deny that, but between finals, looming suspense over semester grades, and working at the clinic during one of its busiest seasons of the year, Quinn knew he'd neglected himself a bit. But who could sleep or had time to sit and have a proper meal with everything else going on?

"Yes you do." Becca chimed in, exiting an exam room. She handed Quinn a chart. "You have a request in room 3."

Quinn frowned. "I'm not working room 3."

Becca put her hands on Quinn's shoulders, looking him square in the eye. "That's why it's called a request, love. It's Christmas Eve. Just humor the poor girl, would you?"

Cal looked down at his computer, pressed a couple keys on his keyboard, and shook his head. "You're wrong for that, Bec."

Before Quinn could even begin to try and decipher what they were going on about, a sound that could only be described as a screech came from the room Quinn had just left.

He sprinted away from his friend and was met with quite a sight. The patient he'd left sitting on the exam table was covered neck-down in vomit, and was currently working on painting the floor in the same sickly stomach contents.

Quinn spun around to reach for the trashcan, only realize there wasn't one in the room. It was likely removed for sanitation purposes, but cleanliness would do him no favors now.

He went for Plan B, preferably a smarter choice to begin with, and began to dig frantically through the cabinets, searching around unopened boxes of sterile gloves, cotton swabs and bandaids, until he finally pulled out a plastic link emesis bin.

In his haste to hand over the bin at an attempt to lessen the already growing puddle on the floor, Quinn later realized that he also should have been paying attention to his feet.

He stepped in the vomit, just on the edge, but it was just slick enough that he slipped, his feet sliding around almost comically. As he tried to correct his balance, he reached out for anything that might save him from what would be a rather unpleasant fall.

His hands found purchase, but his body already had too much momentum to catch itself. There was a crash, and then Quinn was falling. He landed hard on his back, his head bouncing on the tile floor.

Dazed, he stared up at the ceiling tiles for only a moment before his vision faded to black.

"...inn? We're here, buddy."

Consciousness returned like to was floating up through molasses. He could hear movement around him, smell freshly used antiseptic and the hint of something rancid and sour. He could feel the hard floor beneath him, the throbbing of his skull in sync with his heartbeat.

"That's it. Can you open your eyes for us?"

That was one of the managers on staff. He was new, recently graduated from the university, wanting to gain more knowledge in a medical setting before deciding on a career path. What was his name again? Quinn's brain felt like scrambled eggs, and trying to recall information only made his headache worse.

His eyes fluttered open, his surroundings coming into focus slowly. The harsh fluorescents overhead were like fire in his retinas and he squeezed his eyes shut, groaning and turning away.

There was a whispered conversation above him, and then the manager (David? Dale?) spoke again.

"Yeah, go ahead and get an ambulance started." The sound of someone leaving the room to use the phone. "I'll shut us down for the night. Stay with him, would you? I'll start helping clear the rest of the patients."

There were more footsteps, sounds of others leaving the room, taking care of orders. The room became blissfully silent, and if not for the whooshing sound in his ears, Quinn might have been inclined to fall asleep.

"Hey, Quinn." A light touch to his shoulder startled him and his body jerked, and he groaned at the sharp pain that ripped through his skull. "I'm sorry! I just wanted to let you know I'm here." Cal's voice, whispered and comforting. "I dimmed the lights for you."

"What happened?" Quinn breathed. He was still hesitant to open his eyes again. "It hurts to think..."

"I'm sure. It looks like you had an ugly fall. You pulled blood pressure reader right out of the wall."

"The patient...?" He vaguely remembered he hadn't been alone before.

Cal snorted. "Just like you to be worried about others before yourself. It was safer to keep you here and easier to move them into another room."

Rather than reply, Quinn chanced opening his eyes. The room wasn't completely dark, but it wasn't so bright that he felt the need to recoil from the source. Cal was sitting beside him, offering an encouraging smile.

"Dave thinks you could have a concussion. He's sending you down to the hospital for a full work up."

Quinn sighed. "I'm so tired..."

"I've gotten plenty of concussions from basketball," Cal told him. "You'll definitely have some downtime to rest."

"Not really the way I wanted to spend our time off."

"Yeah, and you better enjoy it while you can! I know you'll be back to running yourself ragged in no time at all."

[nowoyas]

koi no yokan masterlist ‖ nishinoya yuu/reader

Navi ‖ FAQ/Rules ‖ About ‖ Master Masterlist ‖ Masterlist 30-60 ‖ read this fic on ao3

status: ongoing, updates saturdays

summary: Love at first sight isn’t real. Whatever this Nishinoya guy was feeling when he proposed to you on sight, it wasn’t love. And if you’re wrong? All he has to do is propose another nine hundred and ninety-nine times to prove it.

warnings and tags: coming of age, slow burn, eventual (easily skippable) smut, minor character death, family + mental health issues, hurt/comfort, gratuitous footnote usage. reader is not gender neutral/fem reader for plot reasons

notes: this fic is recommended to be read on ao3, as it makes extensive use of in-text footnotes. the ao3 version allows you to click the footnote marker to be taken directly to the note, and click to be taken back. later chapters including smut will also include linked notes to easily skip smut sections for those who wish to do so. tumblr does not support this feature. however, footnotes may be skipped at no loss of plot or story.

chapters rated higher than teen audiences will be marked with a lemon emoji.

🏐One: the first impression matters most // You try to waste time and walk away from it with a suitor.

🏐Two: notes on nishinoya yuu // Your suitor orbits around you like the sun. How can you help but to observe him?

🏐Three: guilt tastes like cola garigari-kun // Popsicles with the guys and popsicles alone.

🏐Four: say yes if you don’t have a reason to say no // You head over to Nishinoya’s place for tutoring and general headachery and make a decision.

🏐Five: find reasons to say yes // The Karasuno High School volleyball club works towards finals. You spend this time deciding how you feel about your new clubmates.

🏐Six: hide behind whatever you can // As exam week drags on, you spend the time out of practice and largely being bothered by your latest pastime.

🏐Seven: it’s good to have a project // Karasuno High School hands back final exam results.

🏐Eight: a change of scenery might help // Training camp season starts with an overnight weekend trip to Nekoma high school.

🏐Nine: don’t startle the stray // The weekend at Nekoma comes to an end. You settle in for the ride home.

🏐Ten: get it out of your system // The long ride back to Miyagi comes to an end. You open old wounds and gain a new one.

🏐Eleven: write it again // Pieces are picked up as you find yourself in a downswing.

🏐Twelve: SCAT2 // You have a headache.

🏐Thirteen: get your brain back // You are brought home from the hospital to the Nishinoya household.

🏐Fourteen: the second day // You spend the night at Noya's and survive another day.

🏐Fifteen: flip your futon // Worry reaches a peak, so you send Noya to check on your house for you.

🏐Sixteen: stop the spiral // You spend time around the Nishinoya family. Yachi experiences a normal day anxiety.

🏐Seventeen: stick around // You seek comfort. You find comfort.

🍋Outtake 1: take a load off // Noya wakes up with a soft body against his and a problem to take care of.

🏐Eighteen: get some rest // It takes a lot of good sleep to recover from a concussion.

🏐Nineteen: make it to dinner // You attend your final follow-up appointment before the training camp. Your time at the Nishinoya household comes to a close.

🏐Twenty: sleep it off // The biggest training camp of the year kicks off with five hours on a bus and a headache.

🏐Outtake 2: stop being weird // In which we see the livetexting of the wake-up scene through new eyes.

🏐Twenty-one: push through // The training camp continues in spite of the heat. Your concussion makes you feel like you’re on a roller coaster.

🏐Twenty-two: come together // As the training camp nears its end, your boys continue to work hard and pull it all together.

🏐Twenty-three: come home // You come home from the training camp and have a long-overdue conversation with your father.

🏐Twenty-four: closet door // The final days before prelims.

🏐Twenty-five: preliminary // The first round of preliminaries for the Spring Tournament begin and end.

🏐Twenty-six: beat the deadline // Summer is ending soon. You have deadlines to worry about.

🏐Twenty-seven: catchall // School is back in session, and you catch up and catch someone's eye.

🏐Twenty-eight: the kids aren't alright // You make a new friend and head over to the Nishinoyas for your weekly dinner. Things don’t quite go as planned.

🏐Twenty-nine: the taste of his name // Noya doesn’t tell you everything, but he tells you a lot.

🏐Thirty: suffocate // You do your best to support Noya, but things have to get worse before they can get better.

Masterlist Part Two

[writing-whump]

💔😭🛌🥣🤢🤮 for one of your boys? 🖤

This is a great one, thank you! From this ask game.

The trio has a movie night with Isaiah stress sick all day until it finally downs at him. Vomiting, angst, heartache and lots of comfort.

Movie night

It started with the phone call.

"Your brother is back in town."

That was all it took. A friendly warning from Sonny that Hector was back from his exchange semester. They would probably meeting again at the nearest wolf event. If he didn't go they would meet at the next one.

There would be no avoiding Hector anymore.

That was alright. They knew how to get along civilialy. Right?

After getting the call, Isaiah couldn't eat. He hated how it messed up his whole day. His focus was shot, he kept forgetting what he was planning to do. While reading his preparation texts for uni the letters swam in front of his eyes and he didn't dare send any coordinating emails for work when he was so confused.

He stayed at home, pacing the apartment and fighting the lingering nausea that just accompanied him everywhere. He didn't dare to eat, just keeping hydrated. It was the weirdest feeling. He felt restless and tired and the same time. Waiting for something to be over that there was no running from.

His self-pitying parade ended when Seline and Matthew came home.

"I got the popcorn and Matthew got the cola!" Seline said instead of a greeting. "So I hope you got that free evening we talked about."

"Free evening?" Isaiah asked, confused. Damn, what else did he forget today?

"Yes. It's Wednesday. Our movie night. Remember?"

Ah right. Seline kept coming up with these ideas where they would all see or meet each other regularly doing activities together. It was like she was afraid they would drift apart before they even got close.

In the name of bonding time, she came up with traditions for starts and ends of semesters, holidays, conclusion of exam season and regular common events.

It was heartwarming in effort, a little awkward in its schedule. But they all agreed it was justified. Isaiah lived alone since he was 18 and he didn't talk with his family properly since that day. Matthew spent his teenage years in a boarding school.

Seline was the only one with a nice stable family - if the daily calls to her mom and weekly visits she came all happy from were anything to go by - but since she didn't live in Vienna until this year and out of many other complicated reasons, she had very few friends in the city itself.

Isaiah got the impression she was on a quest to change this, and it was a purposeful decision she was doing her best planning and preparing for.

He couldn't be angry, and he couldn't say no to that effort. Even if having a movie night was the last thing on his mind. His chest was feeling tight, probably from the angsting he was doing all day and the nausea was still very much there although his stomach hurt from hunger.

It was horrible to come to terms with his heart issues because he pushed his emotions and shadow down so successfully for years after moving out, it became his weak spot. If there was anything stressful or upsetting, it went right there. The damage was done, permanent. The doctor he saw about it said it was very rare for shadow wolves to contract such lasting issues in life. Shadows could heal anything aside silver - but they couldn't heal damage they caused themselves. And this was a gradual one, caused over time, little tears around the heart valve that wouldn't to away anymore.

That one was entirely on Isaiah.

He didn't tell anyone. It would be entirely discrediting for all the packs if they knew he had such an injury, such obvious weakness. They would tear him to pieces or never take him seriously again. His influence would be shot.

Only Matthew knew a little. Since that unfortunate day when he helped him home and watched him get sick. Though Isaiah didn't really explain and didn't know how serious it was at the time.

Isaiah didn't realize all the preparations were ready as he sat on the couch in thought. He was really out of it today to not join in any way.

Seline made the pop corn, Matthew brought the big cola bottles and before Isaiah knew how it happened, he had a glass of it pushed into his hand. The lights were shut and the beginning of Mad Max: Fury road started to play.

"You picked this for us so we would have some action?" Matthew asked, stretching on the sofa completely with a handful of popcorn gathered in his hand.

Seline glared at the lack of a bowl, but seated herself across Isaiah in the corner of the sofa.

"This movie is so much more than mere action. I admit the plot is simple, but that's so you can focus your attention on all the details of the worldbuilding. There are amazing social themes about humanity, apocalypse, reactions, dictatorship, oppression, brainwashing and power of friendship, redemption. The brutality of the fights and the agressive music contrast with the small moments of kindness and softness..."

Seline got into her triad as the titles started playing.

Isaiah held his glass stiffly. He didn't want to be here. Somehow until now he didn't realize how intrusive it would be to live with others. He liked company and was good with people on a normal day, but he had days like these too and he didn't...it was very stupid it didn't connect until now. That he wouldn't be able to have lonely evenings of suffering in peace, that his secrets would be held under scrutiny, that his presence would be demanded and expected.

He wanted to be left with his dark thoughts, heart episodes and damaged family ties in peace.

He also couldn't leave without breaking a promise and alarming them that something was wrong.

The only thing he managed to come up with was to slide down from the couch onto the floor, leaning his back against it. At least a bit of privacy.

The cola in his hand smelled sweet and inviting and it was supposed to help with stomach issues, right? He took a few sips, feeling the rush of sugar calming his hunger pains.

It calmed him a little. Seline kept stopping the movie to underline some kind of important cue or meta fact. Matthew was getting crazy angry over it, except he talked right through the movie, when commenting or exclaiming suddenly about a well made fight scene.

Isaiah actually relaxed for a bit, getting his mind of things as he listed. He wasn't getting much from the movie, it was all too fast and colourful, but he was feeling marginally better.

So it was to is utterly surprise when the nausea returned. His stomach was bubbling angrily with the few mouthfuls of cola, sloshing painfully.

It wasn't fair. He wasn't even overthinking this anymore!

Isaiah tried to take deep breaths and calm himself down. If this was simply from stress, maybe it would go away soon.

Then his stomach gave a light squeeze. Liquid shot up his throat, the taste of cola flooded his tounge. He tried to swollow it down, but it surprised him so much he gasped and the sugary vomit spilled out, right down his front.

There was no warning, no sound, no fight. One minute he was fine, fighting the roiling liquid down and the next it dripped from his chin at the small splash in the center of his chest.

Isaiah was mortified, body going rigid. He had no idea how that happened. No heaving, no warning. He didn't feel any worse than he did the whole day, aside the constant dull ache in his stomach.

Did he seriously just throw up on himself in the middle of a movie?

The only saving grace was the fact no one seemed to notice. Seline and Matthew were too invested in the loud action of the movie and he was hidden away from direct sight, sitting on the floor like that.

He could simply get up and disappear into the bathroom. Change his clothes and act like nothing happened. It was just a little accident. Not like anybody had to know.

Except then he felt the liquid shoot up his throat again, the force accompanied by an agonising stab in his middle. All he managed was to hang his head over himself as it sprayed out of his mouth. Just a small sip of black liquid joining the first splash. His teeth felt sticky and eroded from it.

His body gave a whole-bodied shudder. His right hand hovered about his chest, but he felt paralysed by the disgust of it all. He who thought himself so good in control? This was so humiliating and gross...

A quite pitiful sound escaped him then, something between a sob and a sight. He wanted to fall down the floor and disappear.

And it had such an easy solution, if he just made himself get up already. No chance though, his body was locked up and frozen in place.

His heart was beating in his ears, painful electric impulses. The nausea was ever-present, only rising with his pulse and his stomach was doing flip flops for no reason.

"Hey, Isaiah? Are you paying attention?" Seline asked, interrupting his haze.

Isaiah gulped and nodded, hoping that would satisfy her. His ears were ringing, so he only half-heard the film. His stomach hurt, curled around itself like around a fist.

"Isaiah?" She asked tentatively and stopped the movie.

The room fell in uneasy silence. Isaiah's panting breaths sounded too loud against it.

And then something even worse happened. Matthew stretched out behind himself to turn on the switch, basking Isaiah's complete emberassment in bright light.

Isaiah shut his eyes against the onslaught of artificial rays, hanging his head and panting through rising panic.

"What the hell-" Matthew grumbled in surprise.

"Isaiah? Hey, hey, hey, what's wrong?" Seline's voice was melted honey, the softest sound he ever heard.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, pressing his hands against his eyes, hopefully hanging his head low enough to hide the worst of the mess on his chest. "Please, don't look at me." He sounded as pathetic as he felt. Just great.

"Isaiah," she cooed and he heard her sliding down the couch next to him. Cold hands were suddenly at the side of his face, her fingers in his hair, stroking his curls gently. Since he didn't slick them back today they were more wavy around his face, sticky with sweat.

"Does your belly hurt? Do you feel sick? What is it?" She asked, not pulling away from his hair.

Isaiah just shook his head, bowing further.

"Matthew, can you get me some paper towels," Seline said, voice soft but decisive. He heard Matthew's hurried footsteps on the floor. He didn't bother to look for his shoes before he went.

"Sweetie, please look at me," Seline said, treading her fingers through his overwarm, wet hair. "It's alright. You are okay."

Isaiah hid his face in his hands. The splutter of cola felt cold against his chest as it dried off and the smell of it mixed with stomach acid irrated his nose. He wanted to curl up on the floor and disappear.

This was so humiliating. With the silver poisoning, at least he was too out of it and it was too serious, serious enough to warrant his failure of senses. But this was just unforgivable, weak and repulsive. He felt so repulsive-

"Sweetie, come on. It's okay. Nobody is angry. Please, believe me." Seline slid closer to him, leaning her shoulder against his, one arm coming up around him to pull him against her, while the other kept stroking his hair.

"I'm sorry, I don't know- I don't-" His shoulders hitched with the sob. Selined leaned even closer, as if not disgusted by the the mess and the smell or by the display. She was full on hugging him now, her head against his neck.

"Shhh. You don't have to apologise, sweetheart."

Isaiah finally dropped his hands from his face, all pale and sweaty. He needed to see her, to make sure she wasn't joking. "Look at me, Seline. How can you-? I'm disgusting-"

As he turned his head he met her stare, bright baby blue eyes just centimeters from his. This was the closest their faces ever were together.

"Don't say that, sweetie. Darling. Dearest. Honey."

Isaiah huffed out a tiny laugh. He couldn't help it. He was a mess, and she was holding him, calling him all those weird sweet things, pressing herself against him as if nothing of that was true, as if his state wasn't absolutely unforgivable and sickening...

And she was doing it with that familiar fiery stubbornness and in that soft steely voice he couldn't resist.

Isaiah leaned his forehead against hers, just for a second forgetting how disgusting it all was. Just accepting the comfort, the touch, the blooming smell of her, like jasmine and peppermint.

He breathed in and out, only now realizing he could do it slow and proper again. His chest wasn't tight and pulsing anymore, and the pressure in his stomach eased up to exhausted but bearable soreness.

He waited for Matthew to get back with a fresh shirt and the towels, wrapped in her presence and reassurance.

----

@bellysoupset

[httpiastri]

having a Paul and a Pepe maiden win in a back to back week feels so surreal and kinda overwhelming but oh my god I'm so proud of them 😭😭😭 it also gave me enough motivation to edit again (despite it being my finals week 🥲) ahhh, idk why but just experiencing these wins already makes me miss this F2 season, it's such a bittersweet feeling. but hopefully even better things come next year 💙✨

- ☄️

yes yes it's truly surreal! it's like the motorsport gods suddenly want to reward us for suffering though a long and difficult season? with pepaullie wins in the last three races??? we're so lucky 🥹🥹 and yes so so proud!! so happy and thankful that they all pushed through despite the hardships!!!!

ooooo editing again, i cant wait to see it 😚 and finals week?? big good luck!!! i think pepe win will give you enough luck to ace all exams 🥰 but god yes, im missing it already… dont wanna believe that its over tomorrow…… thankfully we'll get to witness more amazing pepe wins next year, i cant wait 💗