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wolfjackle-creates · 7 months

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Tim Drake and 60 for the ask game!

Number 60: Truth Serum.

This is going to be DC only with no DP. Hope you all enjoy!

I tried something new here and wrote in an omniscient narrator. Hope it comes across okay. I want to practice more because it is a useful POV to write in and I've never really used it before. Not in anything polished, at least.

I'll be honest, this isn't your usual truth serum fic. Hope you all like it anyway!

Word count: 2k

-----

Tim glared at the person who held him captive. Gotham's newest rogue smiled at him as he held up a syringe. Dressed in a long, white lab coat with blue surgical gloves and black boots, he looked like a cartoon scientist.

"Thank you for coming to me, pet. I've finally perfected my serum and can't wait to make a birdie sing." Glee filled the man as he gloated at his prey. This was the night he’d been working towards for years.

"You'll never get anything from me." Tim finally twisted his hand to the proper angle to feel the edge of the razor blade hidden in his sleeve. They hadn’t bothered stripping him when they took his visible weapons and utility belt, much to Tim’s relief.

"Oh, once we get this in your system, we will!" The scientist laughed. "I've spent years on it, you know. And with it running through your veins, you'll answer all my questions!"

And then, before Tim could release the blade and slice through his ropes, the man jabbed the syringe into his neck. The solution burned going in and Tim grit his teeth against the pain.

The man laughed again. This was the best night of his life. "Now, we wait! Just a few minutes and you'll tell me exactly who Batman is. And the rest of your flock. And anything else I want to know."

Tim glared, but focused on sawing through the ropes without making his movements obvious.

Just as the rope split, he heard the sound of a distant explosion. Mad scientist man glared at Tim before speaking into a walkie. "What was that?"

Tim smirked and found himself answering, "My backup," before he could stop himself. Shit. He bit his cheek and launched himself out of the chair.

He punched the man hard, knocking him to the ground. He wanted to ask if there was an antidote or what side effects he could expect, but he couldn't give the man a chance to ask any questions. Instead, he slammed the man's head into the floor, knocking him out.

Maybe he could find a computer on the way out.

Another explosion sounded and Tim cursed under his breath. Nope, he didn't have time to look for information or computers or even the rest of his gear. He had to get out of here now before his family caught up.

On the other side of the warehouse, Jason laughed as he detonated another explosion. For once, Bruce wasn’t scolding him for the unnecessary force. And Dick even helped him set up the explosives. Over the comms, Barbara’s voice was cold as she told him where he would cause the most destruction.

“This guy’s a chemist,” she said. “He’s worked for Scarecrow in the past and he’s been collecting chemicals in large quantities for the past two months. Red Robin was trying to figure out what sort of concoctions he’s been developing, but hadn’t as of last night’s report.”

Damian snorted. “If he were competent, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Dick tsked at him. “That’s enough, baby bat. RR is plenty competent.”

Bruce cleared his throat. “Enough chatter. Oracle, where to next.”

“Go through the second door on your left. Wait, hold on.” More quietly, she said, “What are you doing RR?”

“What’s happened,” demanded Bruce.

“Based on his tracker, Red Robin has left the room he was held in. But instead of reuniting with you, he’s taken a path into the sewers.”

“I’ll follow RR,” said Dick. “The rest of you focus on taking these guys down.”

“Very well,” agreed Bruce. “Report in once you find him.”

“Will do, B!” Dick said as he turned and rushed back into the city, following Babs’ instructions.

Tim, meanwhile, sprinted through the sewers. He had a safe house nearby. He had a protocol for this and it didn’t involve being anywhere near his family. He didn’t look down as his boots splashed through the disgusting water. It wasn’t far now. Not ten minutes later, he was taking an exit into a retired subway station and climbing the fence to the streets.

Two more blocks, and he was on the fire escape and pushing open the window to his safe house. First thing he did was rush to the computer and turn it on. Two minutes later, he hit send on an SOS.

Scattered across the country, three people’s phones rang with an emergency signal.

Unfortunately for Tim, that was the moment Dick caught up to him as well. Tim heard the window open and a voice call out, “Red Robin?” Though really, calling out was a formality. Dick could tell Tim was in by the lights that were on.

“In the bedroom!” replied Tim before he could stop himself. Then he cursed. Apparently the serum would work even if the question wasn’t stated in full. He dove for the closet where he knew a pair of noise-canceling headphones sat. He slapped them on just as Dick entered the bedroom.

Dick relaxed as soon as he had eyes on his brother. “God, Tim. Don’t worry us like that! Why’d you run?”

But Tim was staring at him with wide eyes. “Because I was injected with a truth serum.” He slapped his hands over his mouth as soon as the words were out and closed his eyes tightly. Lip-read questions also counted apparently.

Dick froze. “What?” he asked.

But with his eyes closed and the headphones on, Tim couldn’t hear him. Dick reached out to touch Tim’s shoulder only to be tackled to the ground.

He had his escrima sticks in his hands and his thumb was over the button to electrify them when he recognized Impulse. “Impulse? What are you doing here?”

Tim wished he could see what Dick was doing, but he couldn’t risk seeing another question. He had too many secrets he was keeping from his family to trust himself around them.

Bart glanced at Tim who’d backed up until he was against the wall. “Rob messaged us with an incident CH3874G. And the protocols for that involve immediate extraction.”

“I’m his brother. I’m not going to hurt him!” Dick glared up at Impulse even as his thoughts were with his brother. Who’d refused to even look at him out of fear.

Bart shrugged. “Incident CH3874G means he is to have no contact with anyone other than myself, Superboy, or Wonder Girl until the effects wear off.”

“That’s ridiculous. We can take care of him just fine in the cave.” Dick twisted and managed to push Bart off, but he barely regained his footing before Bart was back pulling back his arms and holding him fast again. “Let me go!” he shouted.

And that moment was when Kon made his own way through the window. “Not gonna happen until we get Rob far away from Gotham. He doesn’t want any of you around him right now.”

“Seriously, what do you think I’m going to do to him?” protested Dick.

“Uh… Isn’t it obvious?” asked Bart. “You’re going to ask him questions. And there’s only five questions Tim will tolerate being asked when he’s under the influence of a truth serum.”

“What questions are those?” asked Dick.

Kon snorted. “If you don’t already know, then you don’t get to know.” He walked past Bart and Dick to stand in front of Tim. Kon blocked Dick’s vision enough that he couldn’t see Tim’s face.

Kon tapped a simple “hey” on Tim’s shoulder in Morse code. “Hey, Rob,” he repeated verbally when Tim opened his eyes.

Tim sagged against the wall in relief when he recongized Kon. And he caught a glimpse of Impulse behind him, too. Good, he’d be getting out of here. He hugged Kon tightly, shutting his eyes again so he wouldn’t be able to see Dick.

Kon chuckled and rubbed his back before pulling away. Making sure to enunciate clearly so Tim could read his lips, he said, “No questions until we get you to the designated place. Cassie’s meeting us there. Climb aboard the Super Express.”

Dick could only watch helplessly as his little brother was carried away into the night. “Why wouldn’t you let me help?”

Bart snorted. “Look, Nightwing, I like you. But I like Tim more. He’s my teammate. And he holds nothing so dear as his secrets. Be honest, would you or Batman or any of your friends and siblings let the chance to question him pass by? Would you let him keep his secrets?”

“Of course I would!” Dick insisted. But he knew his family. Bruce wouldn’t. Jason wouldn’t. Damian absolutely wouldn’t.

Bart snorted in disbelief. “Then maybe you should ask yourself why Tim doesn’t trust you enough to even ask.”

Dick glared at the wall, but didn’t have a retort.

“Now, this has been fun, but I’ve got a best friend to look after. We’ll return him once he’s better!” And Bart rushed off to join his friends. Tim would be trying to find a cure as soon as he had access to a computer, but Bart rather hoped it’d just have to wear off on it’s own. It had been too long since they’d gotten together for a movie marathon in a pillow fort.

In the end, Tim didn’t return to Gotham for three days. Three days over which Dick reconsidered every interaction he’d had with his brother, trying to figure out when he’d lost his trust.

He had to admit that stalking was practically a family love language, though. And Damian didn’t help the situation by loudly and often lamenting the lost opportunity to question Tim on anything and everything.

Bruce merely hummed when Dick reported on the situation. He was just glad his son had freed himself before spilling any family secrets and was currently safe with his own friends. Kon sent periodic updates to Clark who passed them onto Bruce, so he knew his son was safe. Nothing else mattered.

The moment Kon set down on the grounds of Wayne Manor with Tim, half the family rushed out to greet them.

“Tim,” said Bruce. “I’ll expect your report by the time we start patrol.”

Tim laughed, “You know, B, you could just ask me how I am. I’m fine, by the way. Truth serum wore off about twelve hours ago. It had a ridiculously long half life. But don’t worry, I’ve already got ideas for potential reversal agents.”

Before Bruce could reply, Dick was pulling Tim into a tight hug. “Glad to see you doing better, Timmy.” More quietly so only Tim and Kon could hear, he whispered, “And I’m sorry.”

Tim pulled away confused. “For what?”

Dick stared back, mouth agape. “I— because I tried to ask you questions?”

Tim laughed and shook his head. “No hard feelings. I would’ve done the same. That’s why I messaged the people I did.”

Damian sniffed. “It does raise the question of what secrets you are keeping from us.”

Tim shrugged and grinned. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes and hummed. “Would you be willing to have lunch with just me, Tim? It’s been a long time since we had any one-on-one time.”

Tim swallowed. “Oh, uh, I should really write that report, don’t you think?”

Bruce chuckled. “I’ll let you skip it if you have lunch with me.”

Kon pretended he didn’t hear the quiet “fuck” Tim let out. “Well,” he said, “I think that’s my cue to leave. Catch you later, Tim!”

“Bye, Kon!” Tim hugged him quickly, then he was alone with his family. He sighed. “Fine, B. I’ll have lunch with you.”

He only hoped at least half his secrets would survive the meal.

-----

It's easiest to lie to Bruce when he doesn't suspect you're lying. When he knows and is actively trying to figure out what you're hiding? It's a lot harder.

So, I know truth serum implies secrets will be revealed, but I just couldn't believe that Tim didn't have a fail safe in place for one. And his friends are ride-or-die and would help him get away from The Batman if necessary. So they did.

Dick and Tim talk it out later and Dick gets added as a back up to any future Truth Serum incidents.

#dc comics #truth serum #tim drake #bart allen #dick grayson #kon el #conner kent #dc fanfic #its after 2am and i have no idea how to tag right now #my writing #i wanted cassie to show up at tim's safe house too #but it was getting long #and there really wasn't anything for her to do?#so she was getting snacks and queuing up some movies

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fandomxpreferences · 1 year

Text

The One That Never Stopped Loving Him

Part One Part Two Part Four

Pairing: Jake Seresin x female!reader

TW: mention of a toxic relationship, angst, fluff

Summary: After almost fifteen years of knowing each other, you and Jake finally seem to figure out your relationship.

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: there will probably be one more part to this and a prologue about the breakup. If you guys want, I might do a couple of blurbs about when they were dating and maybe an epilogue??

Jake turns onto the street where Chase lives and you tell him it's the third house on the left. He doesn’t bother with the driveway, instead driving straight onto the front lawn and slamming the gear shift into park. You look at him with raised eyebrows, amusement clear on your face.

“Really?” You laugh and Jake feigns innocence. “What? I like to make an entrance.”

You shake your head and tsk. “I see that. What am I going to do with you?”

Jake goes to answer but he’s cut short by the sound of a door slamming and yelling. You look up and your stomach twists when you see a very pissed-off Chase stalking toward the truck. He bangs on your window and your eyes widen.

“Get out of the fucking truck, Y/N! Is this where you’ve been? You were too busy being a whore to answer the phone?!” He screams and your breathing quickens. If this is how he acts after three months, you owe Jake a thank you for popping back up. You can only imagine what would happen if you pursued a long-term relationship with this man.

Jake reaches into the backseat and grabs something before opening his door. You don’t see what he’s holding but your hand flies out to grab him anyway. “Jake, what are you doing?” You ask frantically and he turns to glance at you.

“Stay here and lock my door.” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond as he slips out of the truck. You do as he says as soon as the door slams and watch with bated breath. Jake is a bit of a wild card when it comes to protecting his loved ones and you don’t have the slightest idea of what he’s about to do.

You gasp when you see him round the truck and raise a bat, pointing it at Chase. “Get the fuck away from my truck.” He commands and Chase laughs.

“Or what?” He taunts and Jake gives him a sinister smile.

“Or I’m going to use your head for batting practice.” He sneers and you see Chase gulp.

“I'm not scared of you, flyboy.” He tries to keep an edge to his voice but fails when it wobbles.

“You should be.” Jake says while taking another step towards him. “You’re going to stay right here while she goes to get her stuff and then you’re going to pretend you never met her. Are we clear?”

Chase stays silent and Jake takes that as his acknowledgment. He turns back to the truck and smiles gently at you. “Go in and get your stuff, sweets. Chase and I are going to stay right here and have a little chat.”

You look at him skeptically before pointing to Chase. He’s still in front of your door and you can’t get out. Jake's eyes dart back to the man and he tips his head to the side. “Move.”

Chase does as he’s told and you timidly step out of the truck and head toward the front door. You rummage around inside trying to find everything that you left. Meanwhile outside, Jake and Chase are having a standoff.

“What’s so special about her anyway? She’s good in the sack, but I wouldn’t do all of this.” Chase says and Jake's jaw clenches.

“I've got almost 15 years of history with her. Known her for almost half my life. She’s not just special, she’s my entire world. “ he confesses and Chase rolls his eyes.

Jake takes another step forward, his unforgiving eyes boring into the man in front of him. “If I ever find out you did more than throw keys at her, I will personally put you in the ground. Stay away from her.”

Chase opens his mouth to respond but it snaps shut when you walk out of his house with your arms full. “Ready?” Jake asks and you nod while dumping your things in his backseat. He opens the door for you before turning back to Chase.

“As always, it was not a pleasure.” He says with a tip of his head and he climbs back into the truck. He spins his tires for a few seconds, tearing up the grass before peeling out of the yard and down the street.

Jake pulls back up to his home and the two of you go inside. You spend the rest of the day cuddled up on the couch watching movies before it's time for your date. You stand and stretch, peering down at Jake.

“I'm going to go home and get ready. I don’t have anything here.” You smile and he nods.

“I'll pick you up at 7.” He says and you agree before leaning down to kiss him goodbye.

Once you’re home, you take a shower and put on a white satin dress. You make sure your hair and makeup are perfect and just when you're buckling the strap on your heel, the doorbell rings. You make your way to the front door and open it, your heart fluttering at the sight before you.

Jake is standing there wearing a suit and holding a bouquet of flowers. He feels his heart stop when he sees you and he silently prays this isn’t the last time he gets to see you dressed up in white. His eyes rake over your form and he lets out a labored breath. “You look stunning.”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks and you grin shyly. “Thank you. Are those for me?” You ask and he hands you the flowers. You set them down on the entryway table and make a mental note to put them in a vase later. Right now you’re itching to be with Jake.

He takes your hand and leads you to his truck and opens the door for you. He always was the perfect gentleman. You climb in silently and watch as he rounds to the driver's side. You don’t ask where he’s taking you, he wouldn’t tell you anyway. He’s kept your dates a surprise ever since you met.

He finally pulls up to a restaurant and your eyes widen. “Is this what I think it is?” You ask and he nods.

“The first place I took you to when we moved here.” He confirms and you fight down the lump in your throat.

“You remember.” You whisper and he squeezes your hand. “Id think after the past 24 hours that wouldn’t surprise you.” He chuckles and you swallow thickly.

The two of you make your way inside and he gives the hostess the name for the reservation. You’re seated quickly and Jake pulls your chair out for you. He orders your favorite wine when the waiter comes over and you feel your heart clench. You wish you could go back in time and tell yourself to stay.

The evening is filled with laughter and reminiscing, the two of you falling into old habits like nothing ever happened. For the first time in five years, you feel whole again.

“Do you remember our first date?” He asks and you take a sip of wine before answering.

“Of course. You took me horseback riding at the ranch and set up a picnic down by the river.” You recall fondly and Jake's eyes twinkle.

“That’s when I knew I loved you.” He confesses and your features soften. “Really?” You ask and he nods.

“Haven’t stopped since.” He says quietly and you reach out to grab his hand.

“I knew that night I called you crying because mom and dad were fighting again and you snuck out to come over. We drove all the way down to Corpus Christi and you filled that jar with sand and seashells for me.” You tell him and he laughs.

“Yeah, our parents were mad as hell. I'd do it all over again though.” He grins and you match his expression.

“I still have it. The jar, I mean. It's on my dresser.” You tell him and he looks surprised.

“You kept it? I figured you would’ve gotten rid of everything.” He frowns and you shake your head.

“No. I still have the tickets from our first concert, the photo album you made me, all of it. I keep It in a box under the bed. I always looked through it when I was missing you. Felt like part of you was still with me.” You sniffle and Jake's heart races in his chest.

All these years and you never let him go either. He watches you for a moment before getting the courage to just ask. “Did you ever stop loving me?”

You look up at him and he reaches out to wipe away a tear that's falling down your cheek. “No. I don’t think I ever will.”

“I'm really happy to hear that because I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving you either.” He says gently while bringing your hand up to kiss it.

“Why don’t we get out of here?” He asks and you smile. “Where are we going?”

“I know a place.” He answers and without another word, you follow him to his truck. You don’t need to know where he’s taking you. As long as you’re with him, you’ll go anywhere.

Taglist:

@drakelover78 @manyfandomsfanvergent @ssprayberrythings @disturbedbeautywrites @desert-fern @one-sweet-gubler @callmemana @luckyladycreator2 @bookchik26 @taytaylala12 @michalkasimp @xoxabs88xox @loveless-simp @withakindheartx @formulapierre @ccristata @shanimallina87 @chair-things @k-k0129 @izz-ayes-world @kajjaka @phantomxoxo @rosiahills22 @gspenc @moonbxtchsblog @nlr16 @love2write2626 @averyhotchner @scenesofobx

#jake seresin #top gun maverick #jake seresin top gun #top gun imagine #hangman top gun #hangman #jake seresin protective #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x reader #hangman imagine

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achtung-attitude · 2 years

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She swings her fist at him, but he dodges easily. BLACK KEYS manifests in his right hand and he jabs forward with both keys jutting out between his fingers like claws. T’onga dodges these and throws two jabs of her own, which he guards with raised arms. They struggle like this, trading blows, T’onga putting her life on the line just being this close to All-Kill. She positions herself so All-Kill stands between her and Yeon-in’s eyes.

Yeon-in, however, is focused on Shizuka. She recovers from her ordeal to see his eyes fixed on her still. “ACHTUNG BABY!” she calls and instantly turns invisible. She sees Yeon-in shudder at her sudden disappearance and begins to move around the pool. But when she steps on the cool tiles, the wolf’s head jerks towards her. Her fluffy leg warmer bursts into flames while still invisible. “It can use its Stand on me even while I’m invisible?!” she thinks as she frantically pays the flames out. “Ugh, of course! It doesn’t need to see me! A wolf’s sense of smell and hearing are over 100 times better than a human’s! It can just find me that way!!”

Shizuka runs around the pool, still invisible and not caring about the noise she makes. She runs in an arc around the wolf, not daring to charge at him head on. “At the very least,” she thinks, “I can keep it’s attention off Mom!!” Yeon-in’s ears wiggle. Its eyes follow the sound of her movement, its blazing eyes casting a trail of fire across the backyard, never hitting Shizuka, but always gaining on her.

Meanwhile, T’onga and All-Kill have exchanged positions. Now T’onga’s back faces the pool, while All-Kill’s assault threatens to push her over the edge. The KEYS dances in his hands, appearing between his fingers, then swing in his fists like miniature dagger, rolling around his fingers like a magician’s vanishing coins. It’s all T’onga can do to avoid the strikes.

Finally, she steps back and lurches backward. Another straight jab from All-Kill forces her further back, making her fall inevitable. But not before she grabs her opponent’s sleeve, dragging him down with her.

Rather than resist, he instead leaps forward, throwing both himself and T’onga into the water. In the half-second before they dive in, All-Kill draws back his fist, the KEY between his fingers like an Indian katar, and stabs at her neck. Before he can, she raises her leg and wraps it around his trapped leg, diverting his fist so it merely hits water. With her free left hand, she grabs his forehead and drags it down, falling in with a tremendous SPLASH.

They wrestle underwater, T’onga trying to hold his head down. He lashes out with his legs, throwing her off, bubbles billowing out like a cloud of dust in a Western film.

Instinctively, they adjust for the extra water resistance. All-Kill twists his body so his feet land on the far wall, then kicks off, rocketing at T’onga. She lands with her back against the wall and throws her hands up over the surface, gripping the pool rim. Using this as leverage, she kicks up, batting away his hand.

But All-Kill’s advance was a feint. The KEYS float freely on the ends of the chain. Kicked away, his hands merely reach for the KEYS and grip them, then stabbing forward.

T’onga plays her hand too, rolling out of the way, revealing the water pump behind her back. The powerful water jet strikes All-Kill in the face, disorienting him and canceling his attack mid-move. T’onga scrambles, swimming to the nearby ladder and dragging herself out, gulping the air.

Dripping wet, she leap away from the pool edge. T’onga stares in horror at the scene on dry land before her: half of All-Kill’s backyard is a blackened, smoldering wasteland, still being set alight by Yeon-in’s Stand. She sees the wolf abruptly cease his firestorm to leap forward, his jaws wide. The savage teeth close around something invisible and T’onga hears a pained wail.

She bristles furiously and dashes to the glass table. She takes All-Kill’s cracked soju bottle, still leaking rice alcohol over the cracked surface, and hurls it at Yeon-in. In her panic, she realizes she missed the wolf’s head, but the bottle is caught in mid-air by an invisible hand. Shizuka unveils herself, revealing she’s been bitten on her left arm. Her right raises the ceramic bottle and smashes it over Yeon-in’s head, shaking its jaws loose and spilling whatever remains of the soju over his head.

Shizuka hurries away, clutching her bitten arm. Yeon-in shakes the dizziness out of it head, barely affected. T’onga runs to meet her daughter. “You OK?” she asks quickly, inspecting her arm. Yeon-in teeth bit cleanly through her clothes, but the fabric was fortunately thick enough to keep him from breaking the skin too deeply.

“I’m fine,” Shizuka answers, “Where’s-?”

All-Kill emerges out of the pool, climbing up the ladder on the opposite side to the women. He removes his glasses and shakes the wet hair out of his eyes, then pulls a handkerchief from his shirt pocket to dry his lenses. However, he sees the handkerchief is as soaked as he is, so he tosses it over his shoulder. While looking around for a spare, steam suddenly rises from him.

“Oh, thank you, boy,” he says gratefully. Yeon-in pads over to him, his eyes mere cinders rather than blazing torches. All-Kill removes his jacket and tosses it over the back of a lawn chair. He rubs the fog out of the glasses and places them back on. Only then does he notice the charred apocalypse that has befallen his back yard. “Thanks a lot,” he says, frowning at Yeon-in. The wolf whines softly. Nevertheless, All-Kill turns back to focus on the women with a characteristic intensity.

Shizuka swallows. “It’s like they’re unstoppable…” she whispers, “I can’t see any openings.”

“All-Kill spent years building trust between himself and that thing,” T’onga explains, “It’s worked out so they make the perfect team. All-Kill runs the frontal assault while Yeon-in backs him. It’s like you said. With that arrangement, they’re nearly unstoppable.”

“So what you’re saying is, they’re at their best while they’re together?”

“That’s correct.”

“Ehhh? Ah… OK…” Shizuka murmurs, thinking. After a moment, a smile spreads across her lips. “OK. I think we can work with this. Yeah, yeah…! This won’t be that hard after all!”

T’onga grins wryly. “You think so? I’d still be careful, if I was you. That being said… Yeah. Trying to fight them alone before was stupid…”

All-Kill frowns as he watches them. “We’re better together too, I guess…” T’onga concludes in a self-deprecating way. Shizuka chuckles brightly. One of the faces is scarred; the other is painted. Otherwise, the two women’s faces are practically identical, with practically identical, confident smiles.

END of CHAPTER 66

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #achtung attitude #Shizuka Joestar #yeon-in #take you to burn #ch66

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todoscript · 3 years

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SEQUEL TO “don’t forget it”

SYNOPSIS: One week after accidentally blowing you off on your date, Bakugou Katsuki seeks your forgiveness.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

genre: fluff, very little angst

word count: 5.4k+

warnings: none really accept maybe a character sustaining an injury

author’s note: hellooooo this is a very very very late part 2 of my don’t forget it drabble that many people asked for! i hope this lived up to your expectations and was worth the wait!

Since the events that led you to leave Bakugou’s room in a fit of bitterness after attempting to penetrate that thick head of his, he hadn’t been able to speak to you for a week.

It goes without saying he did his best to chase you down the hallway from his room and toward the elevator the moment he realized his faults. But at the stink eye you shot him through the minimizing slit of the elevator doors sliding into place, he knew he had no right to reconcile with you after pulling a stunt like that. Nor did he think you’d want to spare him any more words to begin with. It was clear you were done arguing with him.

“C’mon man, it’s probably best to let her cool down before you try to make up with her,” was the advice Kirishima offered when Bakugou returned to his room, disgruntled as he heavily fell back into his seat next to the desk. He did the bare minimum to acknowledge his friend’s words with a grunt before resuming tutoring the redhead, his method of teaching suddenly harsher than how it began thanks to his soured mood. He lapsed the day away by pounding Kirishima with problems upon problems against that hard noggin of his, both literally and figuratively.

At the very least, Kirishima earned himself a passing grade on their exam as a result of his hard work and their rigorous tutoring sessions. But what followed Bakugou’s and your relationship was still undetermined.

Days later and you were relentless in giving him the cold shoulder.

Bakugou was met with nothing but empty glances and blatant disinterest whenever he crossed your path. It felt like the wall you slotted between him grew another layer at each encounter, your defenses so impenetrable, it could give Kirishima’s quirk a run for its money. He couldn’t so much as utter a word in your direction without you effectively dodging every possible interaction in favor of joining another conversation nearby.

At first, Bakugou shrugged it off, calling your “childish attitude” unwarranted for something he thought was incredibly trivial. In his eyes, it was just an ordinary date at some run-of-the-mill restaurant he just happened to suggest to you because he took a liking to their spicy food. Not like it was some fancy dinner reservation serving caviar on dry toast beside a pretty, city night skyline. To him, it was nothing special.

However, as the week continued to roll by, it became clear to him how much he hurt you due to his selfishness. In a hangout with the Bakusquad, he learned that you apparently told Mina, along with the rest of the girls, everything during one of your girls’ nights. Which included the events prior to your heated argument in Bakugou’s dorm. And Mina, being just as peeved as you were at how Bakugou stood you up that day, had to let the blond know of the damage he’d done.

“I swear, Bakugou Katsuki, I know you can be an asshole sometimes—”

“Make that all the time,” Sero quietly adds in the middle of Mina’s rant while he lounges backward on Kaminari’s bed. If it wasn’t for his current dilemma, Bakugou would have elbowed him in the back of the head.

“—but this is crossing the line!” she finishes. Her arms are thrown exaggeratedly over her chest. The amber surrounded by the black scleras of her eyes points a beady look at the ash-blond crisscrossed on the floor between Kirishima and Kaminari.

“Poor girl sat there for hours waiting for you, only to find out she got blown off because you couldn’t even properly check your reminders!” She paces back and forth in the room, feet excessively stepping across the floor as she’s engulfed by the emotions she feels for her friend. “What’s worse? She comes back and finds out you’ve been doing your own thing with Kirishima the whole time!”

“Hey! It’s not like we were playing around! We were actually having a very serious study grind, thank you very much,” the redhead immediately clarifies. Though his explanation doesn’t alleviate Bakugou’s case in the slightest, who pounds his palms against the surface of the table they’ve gathered around.

“Look. I fucking get it, Ashido. I screwed up, okay?! Now what the fuck do you want me to do about it?!” he exclaims, anger overpowering his voice, but it does little to deter Mina.

“Fix it, obviously!” she quips back with equal fierceness, leaning in eye level with Bakugou.

“And how do you propose I do that, Raccoon Eyes? Hah?” Repositioning his elbow to rest on the table, he leans his cheek against his hand. “Y/n won’t even let me within five fucking feet in front of her and you still expect me ‘fix this’?”

Despite the situation weighing heavily on his shoulders, no immediate answer is bestowed upon him. That is, except the obnoxiously loud crinkle of a chip bag popping open next to Bakugou that cleaves into the scene like a record scratch. As if unable to read the mood in his own room, Kaminari fishes a chip to throw in his mouth, stirring the awkward silence into tension.

“Wow, Bakugou. I know you’re bad with girls and all, but you really messed up this time,” he remarks. His voice is slightly muffled as he munches his chips, continuing to wrinkle the bag for more. It incites a vein to swell on Bakugou’s forehead. He amasses all the willpower within him not to blast the bag of chips to ash, and the boy alongside it.

“If you dunce faces are just gonna sit here and throw salt in my wound then I’m outta here.”

“No, wait!” Kirishima catches Bakugou’s wrist before he fully lifts himself off the floor. “Come on, Bakugou, I’m sure we can think of something! We just need to put our heads together! Right, guys?” he assures. Finding it hard to deny his friend’s hardened conviction, Bakugou gives Kirishima the benefit of the doubt, albeit with slumped shoulders and a tentative raise of his brow as he slowly sits back down.

“Right! Everyone, let’s get some brainstorming done!” Mina yells encouragingly.

The atmosphere of Kaminari’s room is consumed by moderately thoughtful silence for the next ensuing minutes. A few hums pass, followed by an exchange of contemplative looks as four of the five rack their heads together to uncover a solution. The one in need of help only hunches in his seat, waiting with mild disinterest.

“Oh hey, don’t we have hero training with All Might tomorrow?” Sero is the first to comment, scooting to the edge of the blond’s bed.

“Yeah. So?”

“He said we were going to work on group exercises this time around. You know, teamwork and stuff,” he explains further.

At that, Mina snaps her fingers, the work of a brilliant idea flickering in her head. “Sero, that’s it! Tomorrow, during training, we’ll just form a group together with Y/n! After all, she’ll have to talk to Bakugou if you two are on the same team!” She claps her hands in front of her, her enthusiasm rippling through her body and shown energetically with each raise of her voice. “Then, while the rest of us ‘split up’ to cover more ground, that will be your chance to make everything better with Y/n! It’s genius!”

“You missed one fucking crucial detail, Pinky,” Bakugou gruffs. “That will only work if Y/n doesn’t join another group. The moment she sees I’m on yours, she’s not even going to hesitate making a u-turn.”

“Worry not~ I’ll just text all the girls except Y/n about the plan later and ask them to help sort everyone out!” She solves the problem with relative ease—quick as a click of her phone lighting up and finger sliding open to her messages.

“Uh, another thing though.” Kirishima raises his hand to spare his concern. “All Might says we’ll be splitting into groups of five at most, but there’s already five of us here.”

There’s a brief moment of deadpanning until Mina speaks casually. “Oh, that’s right. Kaminari. Take one for the team and make sure to join another group, ‘kay?” She settles without batting a lash.

Kaminari almost chokes on a mouthful of chips. “H-Huh?! What?! Why me?!!” he sputters.

“Because you’ve been eating chips this entire time and haven’t contributed to anything.”

“Hey, I offered the room, didn’t I?!” He tries justifying but is inevitably rejected by Mina’s wagging finger.

“Ah-ah, no complaints! Besides, it’s only one day of training. If we want this dilemma between Bakugou and Y/n fixed then we all have to play our part, got it?” Mina finalizes with a firm point of her finger nearly grazing the tip of the blond’s nose as he leans back to avoid it, eyebrows scrunched in discontent at the role he’s been reduced to.

“Alllllright!” Kirishima springs from his seat with outstretched arms and tightened fists. “Operation: Get Y/n to Forgive Explosion Boy is underway!”

“Dude, that’s a terrible name!” Sero laughs but rises from the bed to join the redhead’s cheer alongside Mina, the group already in high spirits.

Despite rolling his eyes at their swell of confidence, Bakugou does not object to the state of things. As crazy as it sounds, one could almost decipher the cusp of a grin pulling the seams of his lips as a possible sign he’s actually all for this extravagant little plan. Quite a first for Bakugou, but then again, there’s not much else he can do in this situation except rely on his pack of chumps.

Meanwhile, Kaminari grumbles something beneath the salty grit between his teeth.

“Alright, can you all get out of my room now?”

The scowl etched on your face carries a strong air of disdain that dampens the mood around your teammates considerably. Well, no one should be surprised. With Bakugou standing across from you, staring into the void of your expression, it’s to be expected that you wouldn’t be happy with this outcome.

No, “unhappy” doesn’t quite do your circumstance justice. You are beyond livid.

You feel your eyebrow twitch as you try quivering your lips to form a tinge of a smile. Unfortunately, all that quickly falls apart when you suddenly recall the disaster of last week, triggered by an accidental glance at Bakugou’s mug.

Trying to simmer down, you release a mental sigh amidst the turmoil boiling inside you.

Okay, maybe you’re over-exaggerating. Maybe you’re still just a bit too bitter for your own good and letting your emotions get to you. But in a class of twenty or some students, how did you end up in a group with the one person you were actively trying to avoid?

The moment All Might gave everyone the go-ahead to form their teams for today’s training exercise, you swiftly made a beeline toward two particular star students. Midoriya and Todoroki.

It was simple really. Your experiences throughout the school year told you Bakugou planned on staying away from his rivals when it came to teamwork, regardless of whether you’re there or not. He’s a competitive ass whose goal is to beat anyone he deems a threat in his climb to be the number one hero. It’s only logical you partner with people he adamantly dislikes to evade him.

Yet it seems fate has other plans for you today. By the time you found yourself pacing over to the two students you had in mind, they’d already gone and picked their own group members, forming teams before you could even ask.

Your nose wrinkles like you’ve taken a whiff of something rancid. Or, to be more specific, something fishy. Hooking an arm around Mina’s elbow, you drag the pink-haired girl off to a corner somewhere while tilting your head back at the three other boys.

“Ex. Cuse. Us.” Your words sound as stiff as cardboard. It comes out in practically a hiss when your eyes cross Bakugou. Once you’re positive you’re out of earshot, you whip your head at Mina.

“Mina, what the hell? When you dragged me over here to form a group with you you didn’t tell me he’d be there,” you groan. Childish and petty as you may sound, you just couldn’t fathom the idea of confronting the boy so soon.

Mina holds her hands out, ready to rationalize the whole ordeal. “C’mon Y/n, this is actually an advantage for us! With us four plus you on our team, we’re sure to knock the rest of the other guys out during training today! I mean we showed pretty good teamwork together at the sports festival, didn’t we?”

Steadying your gaze, you hold a finger below your chin as you slowly buy into the explanation. The reasoning is there. It’s hard to argue against a case like that, fully aware that being on the same team as explosion boy will easily snag good results for you and your party. ‘Cause as much of an arrogant jerk as he is, you have to admit Bakugou Katsuki knows his way around hero action like the back of his grenade gauntlets.

“Besides it’s not like you could avoid him for the entire school year. I mean, you two are in the same class. It was only a matter of time before you had to—”

“I know, Mina,” you interject, not wanting the rest of her sentence about the inevitable fall to your ear. “I just… Agh, you know what I mean!” You ruffle your hands through your hair in confliction, unsure how to piece your thoughts together.

Tilting your head over Mina’s shoulder, you sneak a glimpse at Bakugou, watching him as he’s cast to the side with the others. He’s fending himself from Kirishima and Sero’s combined jokes, that usual look on his face sending glares at the two and yelling something you could almost pick up on if you honed your ears a bit more. Surprisingly, when his eyes meet yours for a split second, he stands there looking nonchalant again. Both of you immediately avert your gazes.

Mina pats your shoulder, bringing you back to the conversation at hand. “I know, I know, but after this, I’m sure you can go back to ignoring his ass. After all, it’s just one training exercise, right?” she says. As her words deliver some relief to your ill-timed situation, you give in with a sigh.

Unbeknownst to you, turning your back to Mina and striding toward the rest of your teammates again, you miss the small glint in her yellow eyes, along with the subtle gestures she aims at the three boys, waving her pointed thumbs over your head secretively.

“So I take it you’re on the team with us, Y/n?” Sero asks when the two of you return. You nod in reply and the boy flashes his pearly whites in a wide grin that Kirishima mirrors. He nudges Bakugou at his sides which you subtly catch in the far corner of your eye.

You raise a brow suspiciously at their fidgeting, wondering why having you on their team warrants such enthusiasm, but you’re thankful for their energy at least. Someone has to lift the atmosphere for this not to be a complete drag and Bakugou surely isn’t going to be the mood maker of the group.

The blond scoffs. “Yeah, well, if you dumbasses are going to form a team with me, you’ll follow under my leadership, got it?”

The three readily agree. Though you roll your eyes, you don’t challenge his position, considering no one else is that much up to the task as he is. You’ll simply have to deal with the fact that you’re forced to tread through the day under his leadership. So with no objections, the five of you walk back to the class, gathering around the entrance of today’s battlefield.

Jumping into the activity, All Might goes about explaining today’s lesson to the four sets of teams—consisting of a group exercise to heighten teamwork. The name of the game? Capture the flag.

In short, each team will be split off into different sections of the labyrinth where their assigned flag is stationed. The objective is to not only protect your flag from being stolen but also try and steal an opposing team’s flag from their base and escort it safely to your home field. Nice and simple.

Not long after All Might’s explanation, the gate to the training grounds opens and you all scatter off into your teams, navigating through the twists of the maze to locate your flags. Once your group situated themselves onto your home base, you assemble in a huddle to devise a strategy before the game starts.

“So what’s the plan?” Kirishima asks, eyes darting around his teammates until they rest on Bakugou—the team leader. The ash-blond crosses his arms, a confident sneer plastered on his face as he’s already thought of his plan of action the moment All Might announced the mission.

“Easy. I’m going straight to the front-lines to swipe one of those dumbasses’ flags. You lot are gonna stay here and guard ours until I come back.” He delivers the strategy in a matter-of-fact tone that you quickly don’t take a liking to. Your fist curls in irritation.

“What kind of a plan is that?” you question audaciously, your voice louder than you intended. “So you’re just going to do all the work while we sit around and wait for you?”

Bakugou grits his teeth, leaning further into the huddle to direct his senseless logic. “Look, it’s the fastest and most surefire way to snag our victory without sacrificing anyone,” he says. Playing over his words again, he finds it surprising he even chooses to offer his reasoning. Because if it were anyone other than you he was arguing with, he’s certain he’d leave it at that.

Knowing the current tension between you was a result of his misjudgment, it feels only right for Bakugou to make an effort in communication. He ignores the antsy expressions belonging to the others who signal from behind you to follow along with their original plan.

You don’t seem to catch the hint, nor do you buy into his ridiculous strategy. “Oh, so you’re that confident you won’t get taken out by the other team then?” you quip. As a result, Bakugou’s brows tighten at your noncompliance.

“I know how to take care of myself. You of all people should realize by now that no other nerd in this whole damn class can outmatch me.”

“And what about an ambush? How do you know they simply won’t anticipate your strategy and see you coming?” You fire another counterargument and the boy purses his lips, beginning to find this quarrel spiraling into a headache rather than a step in the direction of reconciliation.

While Sero and Kirishima stand there, shifting their heads back and forth throughout the fiery exchange, Mina speedily reacts. The gears of that cunning mind of hers click into place again.

“You know what, Y/n’s right. Why don’t you two go together then?” she proposes boldly. Her suggestion catches you by complete surprise. You veer in her direction with an incredulous look blown in your eyes.

Before you can open your mouth to protest, the two boys standing beside her immediately back her up.

“Hm, Mina has a point. The chances of you falling into a trap wouldn’t be much if you two work together,” Sero remarks.

Kirishima follows, “Yeah, you guys can watch each other’s backs while going to collect the flag! It’s safer to go in a pair than by yourselves I’d say.”

The three seem adamant about the idea, sharing equally content expressions, and with all that said, you find it hard to dig yourself out of this situation. In a way, you practically volunteered yourself after questioning Bakugou’s plan and doubting his abilities. The group only feels it’s right you come along as his support since you clearly must be worried about his well-being.

Pushing your objections down your throat, you reluctantly agree to tag along with the blond. What you find exceptionally shocking is how Bakugou doesn’t oppose these new conditions. Given his hard-headed temperament, you thought he would’ve scoffed and turned his back at being paired without notice, but no such things were happening here.

...Odd.

“Tch, whatever. Let’s get going then,” is all he gives, starting in the direction into the urban area of the training course.

You trail behind him. “Coming, Boom-Boy…” you mutter the last bit but don’t suppress the urge to let your words be known. Bakugou turns his head and gives you a look akin to an uptight six-year-old you just offended at your local playground. You shrug in response, a corner of your lip pinched upward. He doesn’t pick a fight over the nickname, but his eyebrows remain fiercely slanted, and coupled with his heavy steps and the excessive swinging of his gauntlet-clad arms, it tells you of his emotional constipation plain as day.

The journey toward the other teams’ flags is cloaked in strained silence and the physical gap between you two does not encourage any of you to speak up. At this point, both of your levels of annoyance for each other have mellowed out. Now it just feels... awkward—strange. You don’t see his expression, nor does he see yours. It feels like you’re being left in the dark, having only the back of Bakugou’s head to stare at the entirety of the way, and though you supposedly have his back, Bakugou feels precarious in this state as he trudges along at the front, not daring to turn his head to cross your eyes.

The ambiance is reminiscent of the ancient Greek legend of Orpheus and Eurydice. Where Bakugou walks through the depths of the underworld, seeking you out in hopes you’d join his side once again. If he turns around now and spills his thoughts to you too soon, he fears that your forgiveness would be whisked away, thoroughly beyond his reach, and replaced with your promises of retribution.

That was the eloquent version of the situation anyway. To put it bluntly, Bakugou was just impatient as hell to say something to you. The silence suffocates him to the point where the words are nearly about to be squeezed out of his throat, but he bites his lip to snuff out the urges.

The more he keeps them in, the more fidgety he becomes, hands itchy and mouth trembling with grit between his teeth. The idea of not letting his voice be heard was something Bakugou detested. Mainly because it was already such a challenge to even keep his mouth shut, given his fiery attitude and lack of patience.

Man, what the hell am I hesitating for? he asks himself, that outspoken side of him spurring him on.

Ah, screw the uncertainty, he thinks. If he doesn’t say anything now, then he won’t get to say anything ever.

Bakugou stops in his tracks, turning his head. Here goes nothing,

“Hey, Y/n, I–”

“Katsuki–”

Words collide into each other, jumbled and incoherent, which take you two by surprise as you meet each other’s furrowed gazes. It’s quiet as you both piece your way through this, eyes trained like you haven’t seen each other in months when the reality is that a week of bitterness has somehow made you act like strangers. The bewildered look crossing his features is foreign to you; you’ve never quite seen Bakugou as taken aback as he is now.

“You first,” you grant before Bakugou could mix up your words again. Even being given permission, the blond still isn’t sure what to say, his thoughts lost on him the moment his voice clashed with yours. He takes a deep breath, calming his senses and steadying his mind for what he wants to convey.

“Look, Y/n, I don’t know how to put this as nicely as I can,” he begins, tone consistent yet wary, assessing your expression, “but I know I fucked up and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you there all by yourself. I shouldn’t… have blown you off like that and forgotten about you.” He delivers this bluntly—honestly—as open as a boy of his nature can muster with arms spread out, willingly exposing him to his faults and your reprisals.

Looking at you, he finds your eyes are cast to the floor, assuming to be reflecting on his words carefully. After some deliberation, you come across the vermillion in his eyes.

“Frankly, I haven’t entirely forgiven you just yet. But I will say that despite how I’ve been acting, I’m not as mad at you as you think,” is what you give, and Bakugou would be lying to himself if he didn’t achieve relief at your statement. He mentally releases a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding throughout the exchange. However, you aren’t done yet.

“I just want you to understand what moments like those mean to me. It’s during that time where I can share my feelings and learn more about you—understand who you are,” you say. Bakugou latches onto every word. “And it goes both ways, you know. It’s hard to want to stay in a relationship with someone who doesn’t make an effort to make time for you.” It’s obvious you aim that comment at him as Bakugou’s eyes soften slightly hearing it. His calloused, glove-clad hands wrap into his palms. Man, he really was a jerk.

“Still… I know you’re making an effort to be sincere and that you’re genuinely sorry for what happened, especially considering how the others seem to have set this whole conversation up, right?” Bakugou winces over the Bakusquad’s ploy coming to light and makes a note not to follow along next time unless those dummies can scrape up a more elaborate plan.

Despite that, he presses on, “So, what does this mean?” A smile settles on the curve of your lips, sensing his impatience as his voice hastens you along.

“Well…” you begin, speech drawn out in anticipation as you step toward him to where Bakugou follows your movements. That is until he catches a few shadowy figures shifting around atop the small building behind you. Before you can open your mouth to continue, his instincts flare to life.

“Hey, look out!” he exclaims, already acting on his warnings by lunging forward to push you out of the way. Your breaths draw back into your lungs, your body thrust abruptly into the opposite direction. Landing on your butt, you wince at both the shock and the pain, but your whines desist when you witness Bakugou taking a force to the head as a result of coming to your aid.

“Katsuki!” you yell, immediately getting off the ground to rush to his side, but he can’t find it in himself to respond. Afflicted with a substantial blow to the crown of his head, his whole being throbs and his vision spins.

Fuck, is Y/n, okay? is the first thing on his mind, ignoring the liquid trickling down his forehead. His question is answered upon turning his head to meet your anxious expression—your eyes wide and lips quivering as they move to say words he can’t exactly make out beneath the pounding sensations consuming his mind. As he feels a set of arms wrap around him, he tries discerning his surroundings to form a reply, but can only capture bits and pieces.

“—tsuki! ...old… n!”

“...god—! I’m so dead!”

A sputter of words tangling together is the last he hears before his vision fades to black.

The next time Bakugou awakes, his eyes slowly sever open to come face-to-face with a blurry white ceiling. The lights assault his vision as his senses take time to adjust, unraveling the environment to realize he’s laying on a bed—a hospital bed to be precise.

He attempts lifting himself but is met with retaliation in the form of his pulsating head which he immediately flinches at. His hand goes to rub his scalp to soothe the ache and he finds bandages wrapped tightly around him. “What the hell happened?” The last he remembers is traversing the urban area with you for the capture the flag mission before finally confronting the subject that had been plaguing your minds for a week now. After that, he caught sight of some object descending toward you and before he had even realized it, his feet had moved on their own. Next thing he knows, he’s waking up in the nurse’s office with a headache from hell.

Wait, what about you? Were you okay? Surely, he had to have pushed you out of the way in time, right?

His head moves quicker than it should’ve, revealing the other hospital bed in the room to be unoccupied, vacant. He sighs and his relief is further bolstered by the door to the nurse’s room opening to unveil you unharmed with only your heavy look of concern troubling him.

“Katsuki, oh thank god, you’re okay!” you say, quickly pacing over to his side with a glass of water in hand. You leave it at his bedside, sitting before him. Gauging your appearance up and down, Bakugou tries making out even the smallest details.

“You aren’t hurt?”

You’re appalled he would ask this despite clearly being the one patched up in a hospital bed right now, and likely sporting some serious head trauma.

“Of course I am, you’re the one that lunged forward to protect me,” you tell him. Bakugou looks down at his lap, figuring that was what happened, but hearing it from you comforted him more than he thought. However, his comfort is wretched from him by the intense pressure persisting in his skull. Seeing him in pain, you urge him to lay down and rest.

“How the hell did I end up here anyway?”

You fidget with your fingers, hesitating on answering. At that, the blond lifts a brow, suspicious.

“Mineta… accidentally dropped a rock on your head.”

“...You gotta be joking, right?”

Bakugou leers hard, finding the reason he was out of commission to be a damn pebble hitting his head a detriment to his pride. And because of Mineta of all fucking people. Still, if he hadn’t acted as quickly as he did, you would’ve been the one to meet his fate instead, and he weighed this outcome to better than the former.

Then you explain how the teachers had temporarily intervened to bring his unconscious body to the nurse’s, where the old lady went about tending to his injury. Said she did her job and all he needed was to rest and let her quirk take fuller effect within that time.

“So did we win the game?” He switches the topic to today’s mission of capture the flag that was cut short on his end.

You shake your head, but at least grant him the benefit of knowing Mineta’s team ended up placing last. At that, his eyelids shut and he crosses his arms behind his bandaged head. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t my intention to win anyway.”

You give him a look. “...Liar.”

Bakugou cracks an eye open at you. “Hah? What do you mean I’m a fucking liar?”

“I know you, Katsuki. I dated you, after all. And the Katsuki that I dated is an arrogant, competitive jerk who thinks of being the best above all else.” Bakugou scrunches his nose, wondering what you’re implying through your... overly frank descriptions. “Still… he’s sweet and caring at times… and reliable when he needs to be,” you continue, tone softening that draws Bakugou in, “And the kind of guy I want to give a second chance to.”

Absorbing your words, Bakugou blinks. “S-Seriously?” He doesn’t mean to stutter, but the offer catches him off-guard. He replays what you just said. That’s what he heard, right? A second chance?

You giggle at how uncharacteristically astonished he sounds. “Yes, seriously.”

“Does that mean you forgive me for what happened last week?”

You hum between pursed lips in playful contemplation. “Well, maybe you can redeem yourself by going on another date with me then?”

Hearing your proposal, a wide grin arcs his lips, edging into a smirk.

“That’s it? Well, I can definitely fucking do that,” he states, confidence rejuvenating his body at the new, hopeful chance before him.

“Oh, just one more thing though,” you suddenly add.

“What?”

“We are not going to that Chinese Restaurant again.”

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #bnha imagine #mha imagine #bakugou fic #bakugo fic #bnha fic

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cozyenigma · 3 years

Text

Round Two

A continuation of this post!

Pairing- Illinois/Reader

Word Count- 2610

Request?- Yes!

Summary: No way out now. Illinois had a plan to get you your body back. Considering the current occupant was less than willing to negotiate, you could only hope Illinois makes it through in one piece.

Tag List- @cookielover0001010 , @swag-droid , @watchoutforfrostbite

Warnings- injury, violence, blood, character death

As far as plans went, it was pretty simple. With the current situation and your partner's stubbornness? You were feeling less than confident.

The half broken flashlight had been jammed between some fallen bricks so Illinois could see his work. Unable to help as you were, you were relegated to lookout. Standing at the corner of the passage, you glanced one way and then the other. No sign of the body snatcher. The place was still and silent apart from Illinois.

"Ah damn it."

Who really wasn't being all that quiet, considering. You couldn't help but cringe as the sound echoed off the walls a bit.

"You okay?"

"Just fine," he didn't look your way as he worked, voice clipped.

You caught a glimpse of stark white bandages peeking out from under his shirt. It wasn't much, especially when he had to apply it himself, but it was better than nothing. Still, even though he wasn't as winded as before, his breaths seemed a touch too shallow.

Finally he stood with a sigh and dusted his hands off. "Think that's about as good as it's gonna get."

"Are you sure this will work?"

The trap Illinois had rigged might be enough for a regular person. The supernaturally strong body snatcher though? You weren't sure. Stretched across the passageway was a thin rope, only just barely visible in the dim flashlight beam and about the width of a shoelace. Illinois had had to improvise a bit. In actuality the rope was made from strips of leather that was once the strap on his bag. The rope you guys usually used for climbing would've been too noticeable. Plus he maintained you'd need it later.

"It'll work," he assured you. Grabbing the flashlight he moved back towards you. The oppressive darkness swooped back in and you could hardly see the rope at all.

Illinois looked into the distance, pensive. "Watching how they moved, I figured they knew at least where some of the traps were."

The flashlight beam swung back around, revealing the rope again and the section of floor just behind it. The dip wasn't immediately obvious but then again- you knew where to look.

"If they're moving fast enough," Illinois hedged, "they're not gonna be able to avoid this one."

Something echoed down the hall. It was too faint to identify but it wasn't from either of you. Your hands were shaking.

"Okay but- what about after that?" Illinois still had the creepy pendant in his pocket. He'd used another leftover strip of leather to fashion something for it to hang on. Better to try and slip it over the body snatcher's head than stick it in their hand or a pocket.

"If all goes to plan, I'll just give 'em a shiny new necklace and get out of the way." Illinois looked towards you, his expression hard set. "Then you'll be back."

"That's not what I'm worried about."

"Think about it this way," Illinois was rooting around in what remained of his bag, "you want whoever this is to get out of here? In your body?"

He was fumbling with a bottle of painkillers. They were what you might find in a basic first aid kit and you doubted they did much beyond taking the edge off. Illinois threw a few back.

"Who knows what they're gonna do," Illinois finished, chucking the bottle back in.

"Well maybe we can just- seal them in then!" You said in a rush. There was no easy way to even do that but it had to be better than this.

"There's the one entrance that we know about," Illinois, meanwhile, was frustratingly calm. "I'd need a good sized cave-in to do the job. Plus, there's no way of knowing if that'd even keep them in here for long."

"There's still time, Illinois."

He huffed. "And I'm gonna use it."

You don't get a chance to say much else. The sounds were drawing closer, louder. Your stomach twisted as you heard a shout that was somehow unmistakably your voice. It was wrong though. You never knew you could sound that angry. Illinois was already moving. He'd tossed his bag and the rest of his supplies aside, keeping only the pendant.

"Show time," he said grimly. Before you could even think to stop him, Illinois strode out in front of you.

Taking as deep of a breath as he could, he raised his hands and shouted, "Come on, is that the best you got?"

His words reverberated around you before fading into the distance, into the dark. For half a second only silence replaced it. Then a clambering, heavy footfalls. They didn't even sound like they were going that fast and but you still felt the need to run.

"Illinois-"

"I know," he doubled back, moving as quickly as he was able to.

Carefully stepping over the rope, he sidled along the wall, avoiding the large trapped section of the floor. Now all he could do was wait. There wasn't going to be any second chances. Illinois had used up all of his luck getting away the first time.

All too soon you could see a shape moving in the darkness. It was familiar. Your stomach bottomed out.

"They're coming," you said, taking a step back.

At first glance you wouldn't notice anything was wrong. But as they materialized out of the dark you felt nauseous just looking at them. A huge rust colored stain covered their stomach. Their expression was beyond annoyed, beyond angry. It was entirely foreign and you could only stare back at your own eyes, your own face as they simply stepped straight through you and around the corner.

Illinois held his arms out. "Well? What're you waiting for?"

The body snatcher seemed to hesitate. Their (your?) eyes narrowed and for a moment you thought they might know. Illinois took a step back. That self assured smile turned a touch more strained.

Too soon they were moving. Closing the distance with deceptive speed, your heart leapt up into your throat. Illinois tensed, braced himself with the pendant in hand.

Then, a twang as the body snatcher caught their foot on the rope. They shouted in surprise. Even though they managed to catch their balance, it was already too late. They'd stumbled a step too far.

There was a faint, tell-tale click. In the next instant they were falling back, a crossbow bolt buried squarely in their side.

You held your breath as they leaned against the wall. The pendant was swinging in Illinois's hand, catching the dim light. You couldn't help but wince as the body snatcher wrenched the arrow out in one rough tug.

"Illinois!" you warned as they stood. It wasn't working. They'd just been shot and it only slowed them down.

"Shit."

This was the worst case scenario. All you could do was watch as they tossed the arrow aside. Illinois glanced down at the pendant in his hand.

"Run!"

Your shout didn't do him any good. Illinois hadn't even managed to take a step before the body snatcher caught up. It was hardly a fair fight. Illinois was already injured and the impact of them tackling him to the floor was forceful enough to jar teeth. The flashlight skittered across the floor and for a few excruciating seconds the cavern was pitch black. It flickered back on, revealing Illinois struggling to get away.

Illinois grunted and tried to scramble out from under them. Even after being shot they were far stronger. He cried out as they pressed down on his chest.

"Illinois!"

He cursed and reached up, tried to put the pendant on them. The body snatcher simply batted his hands away. The world seemed to slow as they wrapped theirs around his neck. You went cold.

"No, no, no!"

The body snatcher didn't even seem to react to you. Not even when you tried to pull them off of Illinois. Your hands passed through their shoulders like they weren't even there.

This can't be happening.

You tried again. And again. Every time they just ignored you and kept squeezing. Their breathing was heavy. Maybe the crossbow had done more than you thought but it wasn't enough. Illinois wheezed. His hands were pawing at theirs, legs kicking in vain to try and get some traction.

He was dying. Illinois was dying because he tried to save you. This stubborn, wonderful bastard-

No. You grit your teeth. Not like this, not ever if you had a say in it.

As a last ditch effort you threw yourself at the body snatcher. This time though you felt the breath get knocked out of you as you actually made contact.

They crashed into the wall and fell in a heap. Then, thankfully, Illinois was gasping greedy, deep lungfuls of air. He rolled over and coughed, clutching at his throat. Your brief time being corporeal didn't last though. When you tried to grab him, help him stand, you came up with air instead.

There was scraping against stone. You turned to see the body snatcher had tried to stand, only managing to rise a few inches before falling again. The clothes you'd been wearing were well and truly ruined by now; a fresh new blood stain was rapidly growing at their side. You wondered if that last attack spent the last of their strength.

"Even-" Illinois coughed, his voice rough, "even good old fashioned blood loss works. Good to know."

He snatched up the pendant again and staggered to his feet.

"Thanks," Illinois said to you, "knew I could count on you."

Shaking your head, you kept your eyes on the body snatcher.

"Right."

It was downright unsettling to be looking at yourself during this. Or at the very least your body? At this point whatever injuries they already had, along with the wound in their side, were taking their toll. Illinois had no issue slipping the pendant over their head.

"If you're right about this-"

"I am."

"Then what now? I mean-"

The words were barely out of your mouth when you felt it. A sort of harsh tug, anchored in your gut. That same thump, thump, thump you only half remembered reached you. You skin crawled. The sensation was dizzying and it only seemed to increase and then-

Then...

You gasped awake, realizing now that you needed air. When did you get on the floor? Disoriented, you blinked as a hand swam into view. Illinois stood above you now, grinning softly.

"Welcome back, partner."

Getting you to your feet was a bit of a tall order for both of you. You grimaced at the feeling of dried blood against your skin, in your clothes.

The next instant there were arms around you. Illinois was holding you close like his life depended on it.

You buried your face in his shoulder, trying to steady your breathing. If it was any other day the two of you might snark at each other. Crack jokes to try and ease the tension. But instead you just held him back. The reality was that you'd died, twice really, and Illinois had almost joined you. It was far too close.

It was driven home by the fact that Illinois was half leaning on you for support at this point. Getting him to accept help was like pulling teeth sometimes. Pulling away, you looked down to see the pendant still hanging around your neck. You couldn't get it off fast enough.

"I think I know what you mean," you said out of the blue.

"Huh?"

"About the whole- watching me die thing? How it wasn't fair," you met his eyes, hands clenching and unclenching around the pendant.

Illinois squinted for a moment before his eyes widened. "Oh. Yeah that was- not great. Let's not make it a habit."

This time you did scoff. Instead of the light hearted bickering like usual, Illinois rears back a moment. His expression fell into a scowl and he held you a touch tighter.

"I'm serious. I-" after a moment he let out a sharp breath, winced slightly, "you've got no idea how afraid I was that I was gonna lose you, darlin'."

"Illinois-" you cut off, tried to reign yourself in, "I just watched you get strangled half to death. I know."

You looked at him then, battered and bruised, and you knew he'd had worse. Even though you can't think of an example you just knew. The thought made you want to scream.

"I've watched you almost get impaled more times than I can count. Seen you dip through traps like it's as easy as breathing."

"Now that's hardly-"

"What about that time in Nepal, huh? When you told me oh yeah I can make that jump? Because I do and you didn't."

"I was fine," Illinois sounded so affronted you almost laughed.

"You broke your leg, that's not fine. You think I wasn't ever afraid you weren't coming back? Do you think I-"

You huffed, frustrated, and Illinois for once is silent. Then, softer, you added, "You're the luckiest person I've ever met but if you think my heart isn't in my throat every time- if you didn't come back I-"

Finally you burn out, stuttering to a stop. You swallowed back the rest of the words and feelings with them.

The hand at the nape of your neck made you flinch. Illinois paused for a moment, searching your face, before his fingers smoothed out and just barely brushed into your hair. It was gentle, tentative almost.

Illinois's jaw worked for a moment. Finally he sighed and gave you a tired, crooked smile. "Guess you owed me one, huh?"

You laughed despite your nerves, despite your exhaustion. Rubbing at your eyes you said, "Guess I did."

A beat passed. The hand stayed, his thumb idly running across your skin. Your stomach flipped as he pulled just a little closer.

If you imagined what a first kiss with Illinois might be like (which you may or may not have) you pictured something desperate. Him yanking you out of the way of a trap and just not letting go. It'd be an impulsive thing. Fast as lightning and full of adrenaline.

This wasn't like that.

The lead up was longer than the kiss. Illinois took half a step, closed the distance and kissed you. It was soft, over in a second but felt like an hour, and you went just a little weak in the knees.

When he drew back, Illinois let his forehead rest against yours. For a long while you just breathed. Your mind spun, trying to pick out the words to say.

"Let's get you outta here, huh?" Illinois said, voice low.

"And you to a hospital?" You very much ignored how you sounded right now.

He heaved a sigh, pulling back. "If you insist."

In the silence that followed, you looped an arm around his back, supporting some of his weight as you trudged your way to the exit. Illinois had one arm over your shoulders, the other pressed to his ribs. It was slow going. While you didn't keep any of your injuries, you were exhausted. Illinois seemed ready to collapse. You both probably needed a hospital. Steadily though, the air turned less stale. The temperature started to rise a bit. You were gonna need a break from subterranean ruins and caves.

You caught Illinois's eye as he glanced your way.

"Suppose it also wouldn't be fair to ask you to be careful?" Illinois asked.

"Not if you promise to be careful yourself."

Illinois hummed, adjusted his hat and nodded. "I'll try."

And that was enough for you.

#illinois x reader #illinois the adventurer #illinois ahwm #writersofmark #youtuber ego #reader insert #markiplier ego x reader #ego fanfic #My writing #injury #violence #blood #character death

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wondernimbus · 4 years

Text

a day in hogsmeade — ron weasley

pairing: ron weasley x female!reader

summary: ron weasley may be one awkward lad who can’t hold reader’s gaze for any more than ten seconds, but he is also terribly endearing.

a/n: @glisseoo asked for some ron fluff so i shall deliver

requests are closed for now. please refrain from plagiarizing my work!

"You do realize you've been staring at me for the past minute, right?"

The redhead next to her flushes the same hue as his hair and puffs his cheeks out, gaze skittering away. "I wasn't," he says indignantly, sounding far too defensive, snorting out a laugh as though the mere idea of it is outrageous. “Why would I be.. ha.. staring at you.. ridiculous.."

[Y/N] shakes her head, grinning.

Ron Weasley is one awkward lad; it has only taken her an hour into their date at Hogsmeade to realize this. Part of her had been expecting it ever since he'd come up to her in the Great Hall three days ago, a furiously blushing mess as he blubbered something about asking her out. Looking back on it, despite him having rambled on in front of her for about half a minute, all she can really remember—all she'd vaguely made out at that moment through his constant stammering—were the words "Hogsmeade" and "this Saturday" and "want to—um—go with me".

She’d said yes, of course. Ron Weasley may be awkward, but she can't deny herself the pleasure of going on a date with a very cute—and apparently very funny, according to the rumors—redheaded boy.

And to be honest, his awkwardness is quite endearing. [Y/N] finds herself laughing every five minutes or so whenever she spots him downright staring at her—and whenever she catches him, he always tears his gaze away and pretends to be preoccupied with something else.

Ron does it again now, as [Y/N] surveys the Honeydukes shelves and glances at him out of the corner of her eye. The effect is almost immediate; the moment her eyes land on his, he looks away, hand flying up to randomly pluck a box of—ah, Cockroach Clusters—off of the shelves.

"Interesting choice," muses [Y/N], turning around to properly face him, twiddling with a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans in her hands. "Can’t say I’ve ever seen anyone pick up a box of Cockroach Clusters for their own enjoyment—it almost always has something to do with some sort of practical joke.”

Ron coughs and puts the box back on the shelf. "Was just looking."

[Y/N] purses her lips together to contain the giggles threatening to burst out from behind them. She smiles down at her feet for a moment, lips pinched in a poorly-concealed smile, and then gestures to the row of Cockroach Clusters. "Well," she shifts on her feet, "Have you ever tried them?"

Ron's eyes widen. He practically blanches and says, "Never. My brothers—Fred and George—tricked Percy into eating it once.. don't think he was the same ever since."

[Y/N] laughs at this. Ron looks up, seemingly pleasantly surprised at her reaction, and then laughs quietly under his breath, hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "That does sound like Fred and George," [Y/N] giggles. "Do you take after them?"

"Gah, no." They’ve started walking now, Ron keeping pace next to her in the narrow aisle, their shoulders brushing slightly. "Mum would have a heart attack. She’s got enough on her platter with two troublemakers in the family already."

[Y/N] raises her eyebrows and glances up at him. "You sure you aren't one? I’m in your Potions class, you know. I’ve heard you talk back to Snape plenty of times."

Ron flushes red not for the first time that day. "Can't really help it. He’s a bit of a git." And then he adds, "Sorry."

"Oh, don't be." [Y/N] waves a hand in the air as though to brush it off. "You’re not wrong. Can’t keep his nose out of other people's business—you know he gave my friend detention once for disrupting his class when all he did was sneeze?"

"I remember that. Wasn’t that Ernie?"

"Exactly—Ernie Macmillan. Snape made him clean the trophy room."

Ron makes a sound in the back of his throat like a snort. "Ah. The trophy room. Probably didn't have much to clean, then. I scrubbed the bloody hell out of those trophies four years ago when I got detention."

[Y/N] laughs, nudging him lightly by the elbow. "And you say you're not a troublemaker."

This time, Ron doesn't blush beet red; he actually laughs, and [Y/N] is pleased at how he's managed to ease up a little. Shrugging, he admits, "Suppose I am. Not as bad as the twins, though, as I’m sure you know."

"I and the rest of the castle," [Y/N] affirms, giggling. They’ve reached the cashier by now—and speak of the devil; the Weasley twins are standing in line, though their backs are turned. "Isn’t that them?" asks [Y/N] curiously, looking to Ron for confirmation.

But the sight she's met with is rather comical. All the color seems to have drained from Ron's face; he looks like he's seen a ghost. Gaping a little, eyes wide in what looks like panic, he clears his throat and says, "I think we should go."

But luck is not on Ron's side, because either Fred or George—[Y/N] can't really tell which one—turns around, and at the sight of their younger brother, beams widely and exclaims, "Ron! Fancy seeing you here, dear brother!"

"Fred," says Ron through gritted teeth, and then, once the other twin has turned around, "George."

"Shopping for sweets, aren't we?" grins George.

And then, seemingly at the same time, their gazes land on [Y/N], who stands at Ron's side, amused. An identical flicker of surprise crosses the both of their faces before Fred manages to say, with his eyes darting between the two of them, "Is this what I think it is?"

"Oh, my." George’s mouth has fallen open in an incredulous laugh. "Is ickle-Ronniekins on a date? with [Y/F/N], no less?"

[Y/N] side-eyes Ron to see that he has tensed and is glancing around as though in search for the nearest exit. She scoffs a little at the twins, and, sending them an exasperated look, scolds them by saying, "Oh, leave 'Ronniekins’ alone. He’s been nothing but sweet the entire day."

Their grins grow even wider. "Isn’t that right?" says Fred, tone still teasing. "Well, I must say: We're proud of you, Ronniekins. See you've finally found it in you to ask out the girl you've been obsessing over for two whole years now."

[Y/N]'s eyebrows rise up in intrigue. Ron's cheeks, meanwhile, flush an even darker shade of red. "I'm not—" he begins.

"And since you two are together—"

"We’re not—" Ron tries again.

"—you ought to start teaching him how to play Quidditch, [Y/N], you being a Hufflepuff chaser and all," Fred continues smoothly. Up ahead by the cashier, someone has successfully made their purchase; the twins take a step back, moving up the line without even looking behind them. "Ron’s planning on trying out for the Gryffindor team next year, you see."

"What the—how do you know that?” Ron gapes.

"We’d teach him ourselves," says George, sighing, "But Ron's temper is a little—ah—"

"Fiery?" Fred suggests.

"Let’s just say one time he grabbed my Beater bat in mid-air and whacked me upside the head with it."

An amused laugh leaves [Y/N]'s lips before she can even think about suppressing it. "Is that true, Ron?" she says, tone playfully scolding.

Ron rolls his eyes, grumbling, "That was after they jinxed my broom to let out farting noises every five seconds."

Another laugh. "Interesting," she hums. "Well, thanks for the tip, you two." And then, narrowing her eyes at them good-naturedly, "I’ll be sure to teach your brother Quidditch—with a method that doesn’t involve farting jinxes, of course."

Fred and George beam. They’re up next in line. "I bagsy best man at your wedding," Fred announces, swiveling around to face the cashier.

"No, I do—" argues George, turning around to pile up the sweets in his arms on the counter.

Moments later, the twins are waving their goodbyes, all the while dramatically sobbing into their hands and saying something about their little brother growing up too fast. Fred pats [Y/N] on the shoulder as he passes by, saying in a hushed voice that he'd totally meant for Ron to hear, "Take care of ickle-Ronniekins for us."

And then [Y/N] and Ron are left in the Honeydukes shop, Ron with a flushed face and [Y/N] heavily amused. "That was.." she exhales, laughing as she slides her box of Bertie Botts' Every Flavor Beans across the counter. "Quite something. Are they always like that?"

"Every bloody waking moment," complains Ron, shoulders sagging as he practically deflates against the counter, leaning his hip on it. "Sorry about them, they're.."

"A bit much?”

"That’s an understatement," Ron comments, obviously still spiteful.

"Did you really hit your brother with his own bat?" she glances at him, eyes alight with genuine curiosity as she takes the paper Honeydukes bag from the shopkeeper with a polite "thank you".

Making their way to the exit, Ron nods, his own eyes shining with a kind of fieriness that [Y/N] can't help but laugh at. Passionately, he says, "And I’d do it again."

She starts chortling at this, walking through the door as Ron holds it open for her. “Interesting group of brothers, you all are," she enthuses, smiling at him somewhat sympathetically once her giggles have faded. It’s still snowing outside; she pulls the ends of her scarf tighter around her neck.

[Y/N] purses her lips, falling quiet for a moment as though pondering over something, and then, her lips tugging up at the edges, she looks up at him and asks, "And have you really been obsessing over me for two years?"

Ron's eyes grow wide and they skirt away almost immediately, hand flying up to scratch the back of his neck like some sort of defense mechanism. "I—I don't—" he sputters out," I mean—not obsessed—" and then he pauses, as though to start over. Shoulders deflating, he mutters, eyes still downcast, "I've.. always found you really pretty, is all."

[Y/N] scuffles her feet against the ground. The smile tugging on her lips is far too insistent, so she just lets herself succumb to it and grin down at her shoes before she looks up at him, eyes alight with mirth, and says, "It's fine, Ron. That's really sweet of you." And because she has a feeling he doesn't want to talk about his—erm—feelings anymore, she asks, "Do you want to go into the Three Broomsticks next? Grab some butterbeer, maybe?"

Ron nods. But his eyes don’t fail to catch onto the way she’s rubbing her naked hands together—she’d forgotten her gloves. He doesn’t pause to ask and instead takes off his own immediately, handing them to her without quite meeting her eyes.

Despite the rush of gratitude this tiny act gives her (and the butterflies it lets loose in her stomach), she holds her palms out at Ron in a stopping gesture, hurriedly saying, “Oh, no—keep them, Ron, your hands will get cold—“

“Just take them,” Ron says, still abashed. “Can’t have you freezing to death.”

She pauses, another fond smile tugging on the corners of her lips, and then exhales defeatedly and takes the gloves from him, putting them on. “Well, I doubt I’d freeze to death,” she mutters, “but thank you.” Once the gloves have fitted snugly around her hands, she looks up at Ron, smiling softly, and says, “Ready to go, then?”

“Yeah, let’s—oh, blimey. I forgot. Wait here!”

Before [Y/N] even begins to register his words, Ron has disappeared and is dashing back into Honeydukes, leaving her standing outside, bewildered.

Isn’t he something else—leaving his date behind, alone in the snow. [Y/N] can’t help but laugh, giggling to herself as she clamps her hand over her mouth, earning strange looks from Hogwarts students passing by.

Ron Weasley is awkward and a bit of a mess around her, but [Y/N] finds that it’s quite adorable. And it’s certainly an assurance to know that she’s not the only one venturing into unknown territory—this is her first date, after all. And to be completely honest, she’s enjoying it. Initially she thought she’d be having too hard of a time dealing with Ron’s overbearing awkwardness, but it’s quite the opposite, as she’s grown fond both of it and of him in general.

And that fondness only multiplies when Ron bumbles out of the Honeydukes shop a few minutes later, holding an entire block of wrapped chocolate in his hands, which he hands to her.

“Thought you might like it,” he says, abashed, only managing to hold her gaze for a few moments before his eyes are darting away again. “Would’ve bought it earlier.. got distracted..”

[Y/N] tells herself that the pink blush that is no doubt spreading across her cheeks is most definitely because of the cold and not because of a certain Ron Weasley.

Feeling a thousand things all at once—all of which (so be it) have something to do with Ron—she smiles, all crinkled eyes and dimpled cheeks, and stands on her tip-toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

Flushing, she pulls away. This time she’s not quite meeting his gaze, either, as she says, “Let’s get going, shall we?”

Without waiting for a response, she scurries away, cheeks a blazing shade of red as Ron stands there, hand coming up to brush against the spot on his cheek where she’d kissed him.

#harry potter #harry potter oneshot #harry potter oneshots #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #ron weasley #ron weasley oneshot #ron weasley oneshots #ron weasley imagines #ron weasley imagine #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley fanfiction #ron weasley fanfic

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miracleonice87 · 3 years

Note

38 with Mat

from the Winter/Christmas Writing Prompts list

38. “You’re under the mistletoe so stop stalling and just kiss.” 🎄

quick note: this one is prob a bit longer than the others will be. I just L O V E writing Sydney and Marty as secondary characters in Mat stories.

quick warnings: swearing, alcohol, super snowy powdery Christmas fluff

and, just for fun, song pairing: mistletoe by Justin Bieber (obviously)

_____

There really was no place like home.

After moving away to Los Angeles to attend USC for both undergrad and grad studies, you were finally back in New York. You hadn’t been able to resist the pull — it was almost as if, from all the way across the continent, you could feel the Atlantic tide receding and pulling you home along with it. For better or for worse, you belonged to the Empire State.

Sydney, your lifelong best friend and a New Yorker herself, was beyond ecstatic, as she had recently gotten engaged to her longtime boyfriend Matt, a hockey player, and named you her maid of honor. Planning a wedding — not to mention showers and bachelorette festivities — would be far easier, and far more fun, with you in the same zip code. Since moving back six weeks ago, you’d spent about ninety percent of your time with Sydney by your side, making up for lost time with the woman who had long been your other half.

So sweet, right? There was just one problem. Sydney wouldn’t stop trying to set you up with guys. She was insistent that you’d been single for too long — you’d broken up with your college sweetheart by the end of your senior year — and she made it her mission for you to find love again. And she, on her own, was bad enough — she’d already hooked you up with so many friends of friends that you’d lost count, and none had been interesting enough for a second date — but her fiancé conspiring right along with her made resisting them that much more difficult.

This particular night, she had lured you to the home she shared with Matt under the guise of having dinner with her family, when in reality, she was throwing a Christmas dinner party for Matt’s closest friends on the team. All of whom had — and brought — significant others. Except for one. What a coincidence.

Also coincidentally, his name was Mat, too, or so you were told — you didn’t quite believe Syd’s Matt when he told you that upon introducing the two of you.

“Mat with one ’t,’” he announced, one arm slung around Mat’s shoulders. The handsome, dark-haired man swallowed thickly and gave you his best polite smile — it was in that moment that you realized beyond a shadow of a doubt this was yet another set up.

Matt made a lame excuse about needing to check on Sydney in the kitchen and snuck away after some brief pleasantries, but not before blatantly nudging your much-smaller frame toward New Mat. You gave Matt a menacing glare before recovering, standing a safe distance away from New Mat, leaning against the wooden beam behind you to keep you steady.

“So, Mat with one ’t,’ how long have you played with the ever-obnoxious Matty?” you asked, trying to play it cool.

Mat laughed easily. Damn, he had a nice laugh — the kind that made his pretty eyes crinkle at the corners. Nice hair. Nice teeth — perfect fucking teeth. Wasn’t he supposed to be a hockey player? Wait, what was he saying? Something about Seattle, and the draft, and… now you were lost. You nodded slowly with a forced smile as you tried your hardest to focus on what he was saying. He was just so goddamn pretty.

Thankfully, Sydney’s call from the kitchen saved you from the embarrassment of not having heard a word this poor boy had spoken.

“Dinner’s ready! I’m really type A, as you all know, so I made little placecards for everyone at the table,” she announced to the group of ten, hands clasped before her as Matt snaked an arm around her from behind and smiled proudly.

“Guess that’s our cue,” Mat mused. “Shall we?”

You threw him a grin and nodded, turning your back to him and making your way to the dining room.

On your way, you paused in front of your dear friend just long enough to grumble, “Assigned seats? Really, Syd?”

She clapped enthusiastically and smacked your ass as you passed her. “Yep! See you in there, champ!” she exclaimed as you heard frantic whispers exchanged between Mat and Matt. You couldn’t hold back your snicker, and as you glanced over your shoulder, Mat gave you a strained smile. You shook your head bemusedly and turned to the table to find that, to no one’s surprise, you and Mat were indeed to be seated side by side at one end of the table. You cleared your throat and nodded toward the cards bearing your names.

“Subtle, no?” you joked, causing Mat to blush pink. He choked out, “Ah, yeah. You gotta love them.” Then, he pulled out your chair and motioned for you to take a seat, which, as luck would have it, Sydney and Matt caught just in time because they were bringing in the food on serving dishes at that very moment. Their eyes sparkled and Sydney looked like she may self-destruct out of sheer joy as you sat down and thanked Mat. You gave her an icy look and she visibly retreated, holding herself back from making a complete scene.

“Okay, dig in!” she said instead as she sat down across from you.

Dinner was incredible, as usual — while your talents lacked in the cooking area, Sydney had always been an outstanding chef. Even more, you enjoyed the conversation, which was mostly inclusive of everyone at the table, save for the occasional chirp Mat secretly muttered in your ear about Matt or Anders, making you cover your mouth with your hand to stifle a giggle as Sydney looked on smugly. Meanwhile, whenever you and Sydney would say the exact same thing at the same moment or finish the other’s sentence, Mat would look to Marty, who would only raise his eyebrows and nod, confirming Mat’s suspicion that these two were always this in sync. Mat found it endearing. He adored Syd — if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have agreed to come here tonight when she told him, “There’s someone I want you to meet…” — and already, he saw countless similarities in the two of you.

After he’d helped you clear the plates and load the dishwasher for your hosts, you and Mat settled onto a couch in the farthest corner of the living room, near the Christmas tree, while the others gathered in the center of the space, loudly entertaining themselves. As you curled your feet underneath yourself, you didn’t miss how Sydney reached for a nearby remote and slowly flickered on the fireplace right beside you and Mat. Yet again, you shot her a killer look that she pretended not to see as Mat smiled, amused at how flustered you were by Sydney trying to further set the mood.

“So how long have you known Syd?” he asked as he took another swig from his beer bottle, attempting to get you back on track. “Has to be a while. I swear I’ve never seen two friends who were more alike.”

You tucked some hair behind your ear and let out a breathy chuckle. With anyone else, you were ever prepared to skirt that question and quickly move on to another subject. But with Mat, it was nice knowing you really didn’t have to.

“Yeah, my whole life, actually,” you answered, a smile on your face at the thought. Your eyes flickered up to his as you added, “My dad played for the Jets... with Boomer while he was there.”

Mat’s brows quirked noticeably, but not in the familiar way that made you feel like he was about to ask you to FaceTime your dad or get an autograph from him. Because he was a professional athlete himself — which was ironic because you’d sworn up and down your whole life that, because of the lifestyle you saw your dad and his teammates, not to mention their families, lead, you’d never fall for anyone who played sports for a living. Even when Sydney insisted with a shrug after settling down with Matt, “It’s not that bad.”

“No way,” Mat said with a casual laugh. “That’s awesome. What position did he play?”

“Uh, receiver,” you replied. “So he and Boomer were tight. Our moms hit it off right off the bat and have been best friends since. Since then, we’ve always vacationed together, ended up living in the same neighborhood after they both retired. I’m three years younger than Syd and I was basically like her shadow. Still am, I guess,” you added with a smile.

Mat nodded, his eyes never leaving your face as you told the familiar tale. “I think that’s awesome though,” he spoke. “You guys could be sisters I feel like. You act just like her. Plus Marty says you’re the only friend of hers who’s kicked him out of bed so you could sleep with her.”

You threw a hand to your chest and your head back laughing at that, and Mat’s heart soared at being able to elicit such a reaction from you himself. You pointed a gold-polished index finger at him and admitted, “He tells no lies on that one.”

Just then, you caught Mat’s unabashed gaze, which had shifted from well-mannered and nonchalant into something deeper, something... affectionate. You swallowed, casting a downward glance at your lap, and swirled the ice cubes in your otherwise empty highball glass.

“I need a refill,” you said with a nervous giggle. “You want anything?”

Mat looked all too pleased with himself at your offer, and he nodded. “Sure, yeah, another beer would be great. Thank you,” he said. You smiled and nodded as you turned away and headed for the kitchen.

Ever the subtle one, once again, Sydney, who had been shamelessly watching the two of you from her perch in Matt’s lap across the room, stumbled over Jax’s paw as she bolted to the kitchen island where you now stood. You blinked at her wildly and said, “May I help you, Sydney Irene? You nearly wounded your poor dog.”

“So,” Sydney sang, ignoring your question completely as she leaned back against the kitchen counter, propping her palms on the edge and looking much more smooth than she had just a moment ago. She waggled her eyebrows at you before continuing. “Whadd’ya think? He’s cute, right?”

You scoffed. “Sydney—“ you began in a warning tone as you reached for the rum, but were interrupted before you could speak another word.

“If you hate him, it was Matt’s idea,” she deadpanned, then allowed a mischievous grin to stretch along her painted red lips as she cocked her head. “But if you like him, it was mine.”

You rolled your eyes as you poured yourself another rum ginger, ignoring the flush you could feel creeping up your chest and neck under Sydney’s scrutiny.

“You’re blushing! You do like him!” Syd squealed as she poked at your side, thankfully making an attempt to stay quiet as the guys, Mat included, carried on noisy shenanigans in the family room before you.

“Sydney, stop! I just met him,” you tried to argue, turning away from her. It was Sydney’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Like that matters. I fell for Matt like—“ she snapped her fingers for dramatic effect, “—that. And look at us now.”

You pursed your lips to the side. You couldn’t exactly argue that. With no quick comeback coming to mind, you stirred your drink, took three generous gulps — as Sydney watched, wide-eyed — and licked your lips before sighing at her.

“Well, fine,” you grumbled as you opened the fridge and grabbed a fresh beer for Mat. “Let’s not keep the boy waiting then.” You sashayed away from your friend who, spinning away from you, quickly squeezed her eyes shut and crossed her fingers before turning back and following behind you.

Mat thanked you profusely for the drink as you returned to him. Now he sat among his teammates, and Sydney sat back in Matt’s lap as you took the seat beside Mat on the opposite couch. You noticed how he immediately leaned back and comfortably stretched his arm across the cushion behind you, and you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t inch a little closer then. It briefly occurred to you that you were drawn to him in the very same way you’d been drawn back home not long ago.

He felt like home. Already.

And soon, after a few hours more of merrymaking, Mat never leaving your side, the other couples had all headed for home. You four who remained had played several rounds of euchre and sang and danced to half a dozen Christmas carols before you realized how late it was. Knowing you’d had too much rum and wouldn’t be fit to drive, you’d already established that you’d stay in Sydney’s guest room — or maybe kick Matt out of the master. Regardless, you were staying put. But Mat, reluctantly, was leaving — the boys had practice in the morning.

“I guess I should go,” Mat sighed after a long round of goodbyes. Matt and Sydney gave him one last hug and retreated to the far side of the spacious room, aiming, of course, to leave the two of you to your own goodbye.

You nodded. “I guess you should,” you said, caught off guard by the twinge of sadness in your tone. “I’ll walk you out.” Mat smiled and turned toward the front door, and your heart truly may have skipped an actual beat when he glanced back at you and reached his hand out for you to grab. You did so, biting down on your smiling bottom lip as you followed him down the hall into the entryway, acutely aware that, if Sydney and Matt were indeed watching — of which you had no doubt — they could still clearly see you.

But when Mat pulled on his shoes and stood up straight again, stepping slowly, so slowly, closer to you, all you could think about was how hard your heart was thumping against your ribcage. You looked up at him in anticipation, and he smoothed his hands down the sleeves of your sweater softly.

“I had a really, really nice time tonight, you know,” Mat spoke. You had to remind yourself to breathe as the sincerity of his voice flooded your senses and his warm, honey-flecked eyes pierced through you. “Tonight was honestly the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”

You beamed — how could you not? “Yeah?” you asked incredulously. Mat nodded.

“Yeah. In fact,” he cleared his throat. “I was wondering if maybe, uh, you’d want to go to dinner with me sometime. Like maybe this Sunday night, after we play?”

You felt yourself grinning like an idiot, yet had no control.

“Yeah,” you finally answered. “Yes. Of course. I’d love that.”

Mat blew out a long breath and chuckled nervously. “Thank God,” he added as you both dissolved into a fit of giggles. You stepped closer to him and smelled his clean, woodsy cologne, inadvertently breathing it in. Mat came nearer, too, and tentatively reached his hands around to your lower back. “It’s a date then,” he spoke, his voice lower now, gravelly. You swallowed — hard — and gave a nod.

“It’s a date,” you echoed.

You simply stood in one another’s presence for a few long moments, smiling giddily at each other, before Mat sighed once more and glanced toward the door.

“I really don’t wanna go, but I—“

“No! Syd, just leave them be,” Matt suddenly whispered sharply to his fiancé — who seemed to have literally leapt up from the couch — though there was no point in whispering at all because you still heard him loud and clear. Jumping up behind Sydney, Matt easily wrapped her in his arms and clapped his hand over her mouth just as she started to speak.

After wrestling for control of Matt’s hand, she finally pulled it away just long enough to call out, “You’re under the mistletoe so stop stalling and just kiss already!”

With one final “shush!”, Matt covered her mouth once more, though his entire body was wracking with silent laughter.

“Goodnight, kids!” Matt said tersely as he all but manhandled Sydney down the opposite hallway into their bedroom, the two of them erupting with laughter the second they closed the door.

You rolled your jaw and looked above you and Mat to find that, yes, indeed, there hung a very Sydney-like crystal ornament adorned with glittery mistletoe, suspended from the archway.

“Un-fucking-believable,” you muttered, resting your head against Mat’s chest as you both laughed anxiously.

But a moment later, Mat’s voice rumbled in his chest. “Hey...” he spoke. You took that as your invitation to look up at him, and when you did, you found him gazing at you even more tenderly than he had before.

“I mean, since there’s mistletoe and all.. would it be okay if I kissed you?” he asked. His hand found your cheek and you grasped his fingers in your own.

“Well,” you began, leaning further into him. “Only since there’s mistletoe.”

Mat breathed a chuckle and whispered, “Okay, good,” before his lips found yours in a toe-curling, snow-melting, heart-growing, hell of a Christmas movie kiss that you both found yourselves smiling into by the end.

“Wow,” was somehow all you could whisper when you finally pulled away for air.

“Yeah,” Mat agreed simply. “Wow.”

“It worked!” You heard the muffled squeal from behind Sydney’s closed door.

You rolled your eyes once again, hating Sydney in that moment, as Mat snickered and leaned in for another kiss.

Little did you know that a few years later, your dear, meddling Sydney would stand up at your side in front of a ballroom filled with your and Mat’s family and dearest friends and proudly tell the story of that cold late-December night when your love story with Mat began.

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mmvalentine · 3 years

Text

In the Stacks | Feysand

College students AU. Smut. Naughty, public smut that I dare you to read in a crowd.

Rhys was late to the study group. Feyre had been there for a half hour with Mor and Amren and was ready to strangle them both. The former had been mainlining energy drinks all afternoon and was now bouncing up and down in her chair, and the latter was alternating between snapping at Mor and muttering under her breath as she worked out equations out loud. This was especially unhelpful because Amren was doing an advanced course and having irrelevant equations being spoken aloud while Feyre barely understood the maths she was supposed to be doing was more than unhelpful.

Feyre was just about ready to give up when the boys finally clattered in, jerseys mud-stained and with testosterone rolling off them in waves.

"Relax ladies, we have arrived!" Cassian announced, throwing himself into a chair next to Mor. Azriel sat down on her other side, kicking his sports bag under the table. "Thirty-five minutes late," Amren growled. "Sorry, practice ran over." Rhys kissed Feyre on the cheek, then in one smooth motion lifted her, slid into her chair, and placed her back on his lap. He smelled of grass, fresh sweat, and Rhys.

"To be fair, the bat boys need all the practice they can get," Mor said, eyes flashing. "They're playing us next weekend and we are undefeated this season." "The Illyrian Bats will crush the Nightmare Queens," Cassian said. Mor just shrugged. "Hasn't happened yet," she said. "Yes, yes, you all play Lacrosse. Now sit down and be quiet, some of us are trying to work," Amren said. Feyre stared at her, the irony astounding. Amren didn't notice.

While Cassian and Azriel busied themselves pulling out books and laptops and pens, Rhys wrapped his arms around Feyre's middle and buried his nose in the spot where her neck met her shoulder.

"How was practice?" she asked him quietly. "It was good," he said, his lips moving against her. He nipped her earlobe, and then murmured, "Why do I always want you so bad when I've been working out?"

Feyre swatted him away. "Down boy," she said. "We're in public." Rhys sat back in the chair, and toyed with a curl that had come loose from Feyre's braid. "How's study going?" he asked her. "It's alright," Feyre said. "I like it better when you're here." Rhys kissed the back of her neck. "I'm sorry we were late." "It's okay. Maybe you can help me though, I've been stuck on this question for the last twenty minutes."

Rhys scooted the chair in closer to the desk, and looked over Feyre's shoulder at her open book. Under the table, his fingers slipped under the hem of her sweater.

"Let m be the slope of the tangent line to the graph of y equals x squared over x plus 2 at the point minus 3, minus 9. Express m as a limit," Rhys read out loud. Meanwhile, his nails scratched lightly over her belly, and Feyre leaned back into him instinctively.

"I don't get calculus," Feyre complained. "I've read the problem so many times it's just meaningless now." Rhys' hands smoothed over her thighs, and then clawed back upward. He squeezed her hips as he spoke.

"Okay this is not so bad. You got the previous question right, so you can get this one. You just need to substitute the new values into the same formula you used last time."

Now Rhys' hands were travelling back over her legs, his fingertips grazing Feyre's inner thighs. She shivered a little.

"I got it for the last question, but for some reason I can't repeat the process," she said. "Alright," said Rhys. "Give me your pencil and I'll write it out for you."

Feyre leaned forward and reached for her pencil case, and as she did, Rhys gripped her hips and rolled her over his lap. She was shocked to find him hard beneath her, and sat up in surprise.

Rhys plucked the pencil from her limp fingers.

"Thanks," he said. "Okay so, here look I'm copying this same formula, and the new values are substituted right here."

Rhys's voice was perfectly level. But while he wrote across the page, his free hand had snaked down between Feyre's legs. His fingers stroked down the seam of her leggings, then pulled back up slowly.

"What are you doing?" Feyre hissed at him. Rhys looked at her, his face innocent.

"Helping you with calculus," he said lightly. But his violet eyes burned. "Right so, since we know the coordinates are minus 3, minus 9, we can plug those straight in." Under the table, his fingers found the sensitive spot at the apex of her thighs, and rubbed against it.

Feyre's knees jolted up at the sensation, and hit the table. Four pairs of eyes looked up at her, and Rhys' fingers stopped.

"Are you alright, Feyre darling?" he asked, wide eyed. "Fine," Feyre forced out. "Shall I continue?" Feyre just nodded.

Cassian gave her a weird look, and then returned to the argument he was having with Mor and Azriel. Amren glared pointedly at her as she reached for her eraser, her writing having been jostled. Then she, too returned to her work, and Rhys started moving again. Moved his hand up and then inside her pants, hidden under the desk. Feyre bit the inside of her cheek and tried very hard to hold her expression still.

"Okay," Rhys said to her. His fingers slid down the hot, wet core of her. His voice remained level, but she could have sworn she felt him shudder slightly against her back. "So now the equation has all the information and we can solve it. Now you do the next question." He handed her the pencil, and it shook in her grip.

M = she started to write, then had to stop. Rhys's index finger was sliding very, very slowly up into her. She was horrified. She was delighted. She needed more.

Staring hard at the desk and trying not to go bright red, Feyre's hips rocked involuntarily. Seeking more, more, more.

"That's it," he said. "Keep going." His tone completely neutral, nodding toward the page.

Lim, she managed to write, the words now shaky on the paper. Then the pencil snapped clean in half, and Rhys very calmly reached out and picked up another. He pushed a second finger into her, and started to move them in and out. The heel of his palm leaned into her clit.

"They don't make pencils like they used to, do they?" Rhys said. "Here, try again."

Feyre reached out, but only got as far as putting her hand on his, and then her insides clenched and her nails dug into his palm.

"By the way Feyre, Azriel and I were talking about the party after the big match next week," Rhys said, a little too loudly. "What do you think? Are you going to come?" "Um," Feyre stuttered. "Don't you want to come, honey?"

The edges of Feyre's vision went black. Holy fuck, she thought. She was going to come, right here, in front of all of their friends.

All of a sudden, Rhys pulled his hand away and stood up. Feyre was tipped out of his lap, and her hands caught the table as her knees gave.

"Actually," Rhys said, "if you're struggling with calculus, I found the older text book much more helpful than the current one. Let me see if I can find it for you."

He took Feyre's hand and walked around the corner. She followed, dazed, and as soon as they were out of sight from the group Rhys picked up his pace. Half-dragged her all the way through the stacks, deep into the dark shelf maze, and then when they were far away enough from the rest of the students he spun her around and kissed her.

Feyre's back hit a shelf with a dull thud, and she twined her arms around Rhys' neck with a soft moan. She licked at his lips, and when their tongues touched Rhys lifted her up and hitched her legs around his waist. Feyre, so far past caring that they were still technically in a public space, grabbed at his lacrosse shorts, pulllng them down in the front. Rhys pushed his hips against her, and her hands found the ledge of the shelf behind her. He yanked her leggings down, and next thing she knew, he was inside of her.

Feyre bit down hard on her lip to keep from crying out. Rhys' head fell onto her shoulder, and he let her adjust for a moment. Then they were moving, desperately, frantically. Pulling at each other's hair. Fucking in the stacks.

In what must have been record time, Feyre broke suddenly, her back arching and her head knocking against a row of books. She held on tightly to Rhys as her climax wrung her out, and then Rhys' hand hit the shelf beside her shoulder and he was coming, too.

In the dark, dusty space between the books, Rhys and Feyre breathed hard. Feyre laughed sliently, shaking in Rhys' arms. He grinned at her through the shadows, and used his undershirt to clean her up. Then he looked around them, made sure the coast was clear, and sauntered out, casual as anything.

Feyre squeezed his hand, following, and pulled a random book from the shelf. Rhys looked at her quizzically.

"Well we can't very well come back empty handed," she said, and Rhys laughed a lovely, dark and glittering laugh.

****

Just wanted to write you lovely things a fun little one-shot as a palette cleanser before I get deep into the next chapter fic. Hope you enjoyed the smut-fest my darlings x

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-babies @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111

#feysand #feysand fic #acotar #acosf #oneshot #rhysand #mine

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charming-2d-boys · 3 years

Note

and and if its not too much for you then could you do prompts number 19, 17 and 24 for illumi as well? IM SORRY I JUST LOVE YOUR WRITING SO MUCH KSKSKS

Of course I can! 😊

And thank you very much! I'd hug you if I could, anon! 🤗❤️

17. “I’m telling you. I’m haunted.”

19. “She’s hiding behind the sofa.”

24. “Did you just hiss at me?”

A/N: a bit long and a little creepy because I love horror and I’m trying to get into writing it as well (already tried a few times, I want more!). Also, somewhat based on an actual place I’ve heard and read about.

-----

“Illumi, why are we doing this again?” The sight of this supposed haunted house - hospital, actually - made your hair stand on end. There was no one there besides the two of you from what you could tell. Except for the actors inside.

“Hisoka recommended me this since it’s Halloween.” You looked wary at the mention of Hisoka’s name. That was never a good sign. The fact that there was also no one to greet you when you arrived and the fact that the appointment and payment had to be done online unsettled you as well. Illumi didn’t really bat an eye, apparently. Well, when did he, really?

“Aaaaaand you thought that just because of that, it was a good idea to go through with it?”

“Hisoka is also participating, he told me so yesterday.” You only hummed, not really believing him. Until you didn’t see him, you wouldn’t believe that Hisoka was there. You looked at the building again, seeing some broken windows, some barred ones and some that were, strangely, still intact. At one point, you thought you saw someone looking at you from one of the windows on the third floor. But when you looked better, you didn’t see anything except for a torn curtain moving from the breeze that was entering through the broken window.

Illumi and you called Hisoka several times and even texted him, but you got no response. Probably fed up and also curious, Illumi took your hand in his and you both entered the building. Decay, graffiti, pentagrams, names, 666s, destroyed or unusable furniture, hanging lights or wires, water, mold etc. That’s what greeted you in the hallway/waiting room - you presumed because of a few leftover chairs that weren’t really nailed to the floor anymore. You were pretty sure you’d find pretty much the same thing on the other floors as well. You quickly moved your head when you thought you saw something - or someone - out of your peripheral vision, only to find nothing there. The breeze coming in was making weird sounds echo and gave you chills.

“Illumi, are you sure we should be here? This doesn’t look safe at all.”

“It’s fine.” Well, at least he was helping you keep calm. You looked around, noticing how dark it was despite the broad daylight, which is why you both turned on the flashlights on your phones. Tripping and getting hurt here wasn’t worth it.

You moved through the hallways, peering into several rooms and even going inside some that caught your attention. There weren’t many things left: some patient’s files, diverse papers and documents, vials, cabinets and cupboards with missing doors, IV drips, needles, candy wrappers among other things. And still no sign of Hisoka. When you left another room - probably reserved for the nurses and doctors, judging by the amount of file cabinets that still contained some files and folders about patients and the hospital’s activity - you froze when you noticed quick movement to your right, just around the corner.

“Illumi?”

“Hm?”

“There’s a ghost here or something.” You gripped onto his arm, already feeling on edge. Illumi looked at you with a raised eyebrow, silently judging what you’d just said.

“There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

“I’m telling you. I’m haunted. I’ve seen the same thing - or person - three times already! They just disappeared behind that corner!” Illumi looked towards where you were pointing before shaking his head.

“I can’t feel any Aura. There’s no one there.” You felt like bolting. You swore you would if you saw that thing one more time. Illumi’s grip on your hand was tight, keeping you somewhat calm, but not enough. How was he so calm, you couldn’t understand. The journey continued as you both moved to the first floor. Same thing as before, only that there were more patients’ rooms and quite a few metal bedframes left, no sheets, mattresses, pillows or whatever.

You were still a little paranoid, but hadn’t seen or heard anything in a while. You started to relax, only tensing briefly when you went up to the second floor - again, nothing interesting or different from before - before finally reaching the third one. It was starting to get dark, what with all the exploring you’d done and you had a feeling your phone’s battery might die soon.

“Illumi...?”

“Yes?”

“This is supposed to be a haunted house of sorts, right?”

“Yes, why?”

“Where are the actors?” The both of you stopped. You had been so tense and Illumi so curious that none of you had thought about it.

Suddenly, you heard a loud noise in the distance, but the echo made you jump in pure terror. Something clattered to the floor in one of the rooms to your left and Illumi pulled out a few needles. The both of you sensed something, whether it was Aura or bloodlust, you didn’t know. Honestly, you didn’t even want to find out. You just wanted to leave.

Illumi seemed to be just a little bit tense, but still as calm and collected as always as he walked towards the noise, with you trailing behind him and whispering, trying to convince him to just leave it and go. No such luck.

When you heard another noise, quieter, coming from behind you, you remained as still as a statue. There was something or someone right behind you, you could feel it. You couldn’t even call for Illumi, he wasn’t even in front of you anymore, probably in the room where the first sound had come from.

A shrill and loud, ear-piercing scream left your mouth when you felt a cold hand wrap around your neck and you bolted, dropping your phone and running blindly in whatever which way your feet carried you. You could hear nothing else besides the blood rushing to your head and the faint echoes of your scream, still bouncing off the walls, as your eyes were screwed shut and your ears were covered by your hands.

“Hisoka...” Illumi sighed as he picked up your phone, going towards where he felt your Aura coming from. Meanwhile, Hisoka was laughing like a maniac. “Where’s (Y/N)?”

“She’s hiding behind the sofa, in the waiting room.” Hisoka barely managed to speak as he tried not to die from laughing. Illumi only sighed again before going to said location, gently putting his hand on your back as he felt you shivering. You jumped, almost screaming again, before you saw that it was Illumi and you just hugged him, scared out of your mind.

As soon as you calmed down, you, your boyfriend and Hisoka went down each floor until you left the hospital, going towards the car you had taken to drive there.

“(Y/N), I couldn’t help it~ ♦️ Also, I’m sorry~ ♠️” He didn’t sound sorry at all and when Illumi’s arm went around your waist to instead pull you closer to him, you hissed, separating from both of them and going on ahead.

“Did you just hiss at me?” Illumi actually sounded a bit incredulous.

“Yes! Hisoka is an asshole, I knew that already. But you just left me there while you were playing Inspector Gadget or something while I was scared out of my mind! Who does that?!” You hurried towards the car and got in the back as soon as it was unlocked, refusing to talk or even look at either of them. When Illumi tried to talk, Hisoka advised him to leave you for a bit until you calmed down. They’d both take you somewhere to get back into your good graces.

As they both got inside, Illumi in the driver’s seat and Hisoka in the passenger’s, you were looking out the window, the sunset reflecting in the remaining windows of the hospital. A blurry figure, too far away from you to make out any details, waved at you from the third floor, where you’d seen it the first time. You felt yourself go pale as your eyes widened and your heart stuttered. Both Illumi and Hisoka were in the car with you... so who was up there then?

#500 followers event #hxh #hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter x reader #hunter x reader #illumi #illumi zoldyck #illumi x reader #illumi zoldyck x reader #hxh illumi #hxh writing

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tickly-tufts · 4 years

Text

Belonging

inspired by suggestions from @damecosquillas + this post which i realized fit zuko both ways

i was also itching for OT3 content, so yes this is a suzukka or zukki fic

---

“Hey, we’re celebrating! Why don’t you join us?” Sokka peered into Zuko’s room. While everyone else had been catching up around the campfire, Zuko had quietly snuck away.

“I’m not really sure that I should...” Zuko was seated on the edge of his bed. Sokka glanced down, spotting a picture of Iroh, then made up his mind about sticking around.

“Of course you should! You were at the Boiling Rock! There’s no way things would’ve worked without you.” Sokka invited himself to sit beside Zuko, pleasantly surprised when he wasn’t pushed away.

They went back and forth for a few moments, as Sokka insisted Zuko return, only to meet resistance. It didn’t escape his notice that there was no food nearby, meaning Zuko hadn’t even grabbed dinner before making his exit. There was no tension between the two of them; only concern combating insecurity. However, just when Sokka was sure they’d reached a stalemate, a third presence made itself known.

“So this is where you went,” Suki mused aloud, striding into the room with casual curiosity. “Kind of isolated, isn’t it?”

A pit formed in Sokka’s stomach.

It was true that the room was tucked away, far from the temple center, where the others were gathered. Zuko had been assigned to it for that very reason, though now that they’d bonded, Sokka felt guilty. It was just a bit too lonely for his liking, and he wondered if it was contributing to Zuko’s hesitation.

“You should sleep closer to the group,” he decided, then backtracked when Zuko simply stared. “Uh, assuming that’s alright with you... Obviously.”

Getting a quick read on the situation, Suki seized control before Zuko could turn him down. Not even batting an eye, she joined them on the bed, sandwiching Zuko in the middle.

“Wha-?!” Zuko looked alarmed, gawking like she'd just proclaimed herself Avatar Kyoshi.

“For the record, I forgive you for my village. The damage wasn’t permanent, and the jailbreak earned you some points.” She leaned back on her hands, completely at ease, as if Zuko were no stranger to her than Sokka. It was as confusing as it was comforting, and Zuko relaxed ever so slightly.

“Thank you,” he breathed out. “I’m glad it was salvageable. I’m not sure what that has to do with... this, though.” He made a vague gesture with his hands, leaving his exact meaning open to interpretation.

“You don’t think you belong with us, right?” Suki cut right to the heart of the matter. “You’re prepared to fight with us, maybe even die for us, but you don’t think you’re welcome as a friend.”

“I...” Zuko sounded uncomfortable. “You all look so happy already. I’m just here to teach Aang firebending... and try to make up for my past mistakes.” He reached up to rub the back of his head. “I know Katara definitely doesn’t want me there.”

“She’ll get over it,” Sokka said with a scowl. “Anyway, I want you there.”

“We want you there," Suki corrected. “And I’m willing to bet we’re not the only ones.”

When Zuko still appeared conflicted, Sokka rolled his eyes, poking him in the ribs.

“What’s it gonna take to convince-” Sokka paused. “...you?” he finished questioningly. “Sorry, but did you just squeak?”

Zuko’s blush confirmed it before he could answer.

“Does this mean what I think it means?” Suki dug her fingers into his side. Zuko practically threw himself against Sokka in his scramble to get away.

He froze when a familiar hand wrapped around his bicep.

It only took a second for Suki and Sokka to make eye contact, and even less time for them to spring into action. They both claimed a limb, then shoved Zuko backwards, pinning his wrists to the wall before each sitting on a leg.

“Wahait! Hohohold on! Dohohohon’t!” Zuko was giggling before they even touched him. When two different hands descended on his torso, he had no hope of resisting.

“Ahahahahah! S-Stohohohop thahahat!” He squirmed as Suki scratched under his arm. Sokka, meanwhile, revisited his ribs, massaging his fingers into the soft spaces. “Eheheheek!” he squeaked again, desperately twisting this way and that. Unfortunately for him, he could find no relief. His tormentors were as methodical as they were wicked.

“His ribs just might be the worst,” Sokka observed as Zuko cackled.

“You think so?” Suki gave them a squeeze, and Zuko nearly cracked his skull against the wall. “Oh! Be careful!” she instantly reacted, stopping to check the back of his head. She pet his hair lightly once she was reassured. “You know, I remember you being more bald.”

“Right?” Sokka exclaimed. “Toph got on my case for saying he had a ponytail. How was I supposed to know about your haircut?!”

“Um, I’m sorry?” Zuko seemed baffled.

“Yeah, you better be,” Sokka snarked, tickling his neck in retaliation. It was more to tease him than out of genuine spite, but Sokka still smirked when Zuko shrank back with a squeal.

Suki watched the exchange with open amusement, then decided to get back in on the fun. Zuko startled when he felt his shirt lifting, flinching violently at the first touch of nails.

“We could probably go back outside now... or we could see how ticklish you really are.” Suki tilted her head, a dangerous glint in her eye. “What do you think we should do, Zuko?”

Zuko didn’t need to look up to know he was doomed.

---

Chief Hakoda didn’t know what to expect when he turned the corner, but it certainly wasn’t what he found. It had taken a fair bit of wandering to even locate the right room, and he’d started running once he was close enough to hear screaming. Immediately, he braced himself for the worst, which made the reality even more jarring.

He could only gape from the doorway as his son blew a raspberry against the Fire prince’s stomach.

“MEHEHERCY! PLEHEHEHEHEASE!” the prince practically shrieked, shaking helplessly in the Kyoshi girl’s hold. Judging by the color of his face, they’d been at this for awhile, and suddenly remembering why he was there, Hakoda cleared his throat.

The three teens all jumped, whipping to face him in record time. Sokka smiled sheepishly upon recognizing him, while the prince turned right back around, mortified. The Kyoshi girl glanced at the prince, then released his arms, kindly tugging his shirt down as she helped him sit up. None of them said a word as Hakoda stepped closer.

“So... the others were wondering why you’d all disappeared.” Hakoda crossed his arms, watching them thoughtfully. “I decided to volunteer, especially since Katara was getting... worried.” The prince looked down. Sokka squeezed his wrist. Hakoda filed the interaction away for later.

“Sorry about that,” the Kyoshi girl chimed in. “We got a bit distracted, but we can head back with you now.” Taking the lead, she stood up first, then grabbed the prince by the arm.

Sokka followed suit, doing the same on the other side. Hakoda nearly laughed when they hoisted him down the hall. For a moment, the prince looked ready to protest, before ultimately sighing and accepting his fate.

Following a few paces behind the trio, Hakoda recognized right then that he had nothing to worry about. Not when it came to the prince’s loyalties at least. His son’s love life, however, may have been another matter.

#zuko #sokka #suki #zukki #zukka #suzukka #sukka #zuki #avatar the last airbender #tickling #a tickly fic #took this fic more seriously than most #hopefully it turned out well

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perfectpaperbluebirds · 3 years

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Spells and Sneezes

I needed to try some Fantasy sickfic, and also practice my “stuffy talk”, so have ~3700 words of a very sneezy, stuffed up sorcerer. This post was inspired by a prompt I saw from this site long ago about a tall, thin, sneezy warlock, but I can’t find that post again to link it to save my life. So generic thanks to whoever came up with the prompt!

“Hehhtt’SSCCHHEEEWW!!

The tickle he thought he’d stifled exploded out of him unexpectedly as a massive, wet sneeze. The tall, young sorcerer groaned and wiped his dripping nose wearily with an already sodden handkerchief. His entire workbench was now covered in the spray. He sighed dejectedly, glancing out the window, the weak afternoon sunlight offering little comfort.

He had been stuck on this spell for days now, and the deadline was fast approaching. And this wasn’t just any order, this was for the KING. He was preparing to wage war and was looking for chainmail woven with a defense spell for 3,000 of his top officers. The king had chosen him to fill this order because defense spells had been his specialty during his apprenticeship, but for some reason this powerful chain was toying with him. If he could get just one prototype together, making the rest would be the work of a day. But he had not been able to make even one yet.

He groaned again, wincing as he continued to wipe his raw, dripping nose. His head hurt. His throat hurt. His eyes hurt. His chest hurt from all the coughing he’d been doing. But he couldn’t rest until this was done.

He summoned the chair he had shoved aside a few minutes ago. Neither sitting nor standing seemed to help him concentrate better, so he kept going back and forth. He leaned his head in his hand and picked up his quill again, scratching sigils fruitlessly.

A merry knock startled him and he leapt to his feet, his lithe frame quivering. For a moment he imagined it was the king’s advisors coming to collect the spell a week early. Instead, his younger sister poked her head in, waving cheerily.

“Brother, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost! Did I startle you? I’m sorry. It has been some weeks since I’ve seen you, and I wanted to check on you.”

She bustled in, her cleaning cart clattering behind her and parking itself by the door. Elliamina was a kitchen witch, and renowned throughout the land for her cleaning abilities, especially for never having an apprenticeship of her own. She had helped her older brother with his studies, being the more studious of the two, and had picked up some knowledge of her own, enough to make her own way in the world without formal training.

She danced over, wrapping her arms around him warmly. She was almost a meter shorter than him, but otherwise they were nearly identical, though there was a 5 year span between them. The length of their hair was the only difference. Elmrador weakly returned her hug, his heart still pounding.

“Good to see you, Mina. I have missed you. I’m sorry I haven’t been to see you, but I’ve been quite busy with orders of late. I can’t visit long today though. I have much work to do.”

“Well, at least let me give your cottage a quick tidy while I’m here.” She stepped back and surveyed him, cocking her head. “You are ill, brother.” Her mouth immediately quirked down sadly.

It was a statement, not a question. He also frowned. “I am fine.”

As if only to betray him, a hoarse coughing fit snuck up on him, leaving him red and breathless. He rubbed his chest ruefully. “Or at any rate, I don’t need you fussing. I need to finish this order. It’s for the king.”

“Hm.” She looked at him skeptically. “I have the supplies to make a tonic for you. Let me give you that at least. You look miserable.”

He grunted his approval. “As long as you don’t mix it with a sleeping draught.”

“If that's what you want,” she said, rolling her eyes. She flitted back to her cart and began to mix up a simple potion. Meanwhile, he seated himself again and resumed his scribbling. Another dratted tickle was growing in his nose though, which was streaming in earnest. He mopped the drips, to no avail.

“Ah… ah… Ahhkkt’shoooooo!” His handkerchief caught only part of the spray due to how sodden and crumpled it was, and his workbench was once again covered. Mina was at his side in a moment, rubbing his back.

“Poor dear! Elm, you sound awful. You should be in bed.”

“As soon as I work this through.”

She sighed and shook her head, handing him the steaming tonic. He took it with a grateful smile and gulped it down before taking up his quill again, rubbing his hands together to warm them before he did.

Seeing he didn’t intend to chat further, she began to clean his one room cottage. It was all he needed, just the right amount of space. He kept it cozy and neat for the most part, but when he was busy, cleaning was the last thing on his mind, which is one of the reasons she liked to visit often. She genuinely loved cleaning, especially for people she cared about. She began at the ceiling, sweeping down cobwebs and dusting the corners as she sang to herself. Elm personally thought her singing was a big component of her magic, though she denied it.

After the ceiling, she moved to the walls and cupboards. Elm found himself watching her idly rather than working. He turned back to his papers, shaking his throbbing head, trying to clear it. The tonic seemed to be affecting his fever. He had previously been shivering in the warm room, but now he was starting to sweat. The congestion seemed to be leaving his chest but was streaming out of his nose in earnest.

He didn’t know where his other handkerchiefs were, so he kept using the current one, but it was getting less and less effective as his sniffles got wetter and wetter. It wasn’t long before he started sneezing, both from his overactive nose, and the dust his sister was creating.

“Errr’sssHUUH! ErrrRIESSH’shew! Ehhhkxxt’SHEEEWW!”

Mina threw down her duster in exasperation. “I don’t know how you can stand to keep working. *I* can hardly work with you like this!”

He shrugged petulantly, rubbing his red nose. “Well, if you weren’dt kickig ub so mbuch dusdt…”

“Oh! Is the tonic not helping? It shouldn’t make you sound like that.”

“Idt helped the cough. Bud idt mbade mby ndose worse,” he mumbled weakly.

She rolled her eyes. “That tonic works on everyone else, except stubborn sorcerers. I bet your magic is going haywire and counteracting it. Especially without the sleeping effect.”

“Thadt’s ndot mby fauldt.” He shivered and coughed softly, summoning a blanket to wrap around his shoulders as he was suddenly freezing instead of sweating.

She sighed and moved to his side again, rubbing his back some more. He leaned against her wearily.

“Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Ndo. I worgk best adt ndight.”

“Poor dear. You’re exhausted. No wonder you’re ill. What has got you so worked up?”

She glanced at the papers spread before him. “Chainmail woven with defense? Clever. Lucky you, getting an interesting project like this.”

“Idt’s driving mbe to distraction. I can’dt quide sordt it oudt.”

Her sharp eyes roved over the parchment quickly. “Your writing is terrible when you’re ill. I can hardly make it out. Ah, but here’s one of the reasons you're having trouble--half of these sigils appear to be reversed. See these here? They’re meaningless. Don’t tell me you’ve been working with them like this?”

He groaned pathetically. “They weren’dt like thadt whend I wrote themb! I ndo they weren’dt!”

She reached out and tried to feel his forehead. He batted her hand away before she could. She frowned.

“You know your magic is unpredictable when something is wrong with you, brother. My guess is you sneezed on these and they reversed themselves. You’re positively crackling with stray mana. Not to mention you’re probably feverish. You need to take some rest.”

“I can’dt. I have to deliver 3,000 of these in a weegk’s time, and I haven’dt even godden one yedt.”

“You’re not being productive like this though.”

“Ndeither are you. I thoughdt you were cleanig.”

She swatted him playfully. “See to yourself first, Elmrador, before you worry about me.”

Shaking her head, she reluctantly went back to her cleaning. The thin sorcerer directed his gaze back to his work, slowly fixing the reversed sigils, but he couldn’t get his eyes to stay in focus. They were so heavy. Everything was blurred around the edges.

His head was overwhelmingly heavy too, and achingly throbbing. He let it drop to the workbench, the cool wood pleasant on his hot forehead. He let his mouth hang open and tried to breathe, letting his nose drip gently into his handkerchief.

He must have dozed off, because Elliamina’s touch startled him some moments later. He turned to look at her, his cheek still on the bench.

“Why are you fighting yourself? You’re no good to anyone like this. The project can wait.”

“Will you mbake mbe some tea?” he asked pitifully, changing the subject.

She rubbed his back, surveying him keenly. “I’ll make you some tea if you take it in bed.”

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded, slowly pulling the blanket closer to himself as he rose and shuffled to the corner where his bed stood. He clumsily discarded his outer tunic and boots as he went, kicking them aside before falling onto the mattress and heaping blankets and pillows over himself, dozing immediately. His sister busied herself boiling the water and preparing the tea leaves.

When it was ready, she shook him awake again and helped him sit up.

“I can do idt mbyself,” he muttered, shaking her off.

“You’re worn out enough,” she chided gently. “So let me help.”

He couldn’t argue with that. The tea was sweet and hot, the perfect temperature to start drinking immediately. But naturally, the warm liquid made his nose stream in earnest. His sister had been fussing around, fluffing his pillows and picking up his discarded clothes. When she noticed his sodden handkerchief, long past its usefulness, she quickly summoned another. He took it with a grateful smile, though the effect was somewhat ruined by his watery eyes. He blew his nose several times, but his sinuses were stopped tight, and blowing just made his head throb terribly.

Once the tea was gone and he had finally stopped shivering, he felt he couldn't keep his eyes open for another minute. He fell back into the bed as Elliamina dimmed the lights and covered him warmly.

Mina watched as he seemed to slip into a doze immediately. After a moment, she returned to her cleaning. She had made up her mind that she would stay here with him until he was over the worst of this. And since she would be here for a while, she had decided she would scour his cottage from top to bottom.

However, her brother couldn't seem to settle. He tossed and turned, coughing more and more often, the most awful-sounding fits. Finally he rolled over and opened his eyes, looking at her pitifully.

"I can'dt sleebp," he croaked. "First I'mb sweatig, then I'mb freezig. And I can'dt breathe for the coughig."

She clicked her tongue, coming to his side. She felt his forehead and cheeks, and this time he let her, leaning his head into her hand.

“You are so warm, Elm,” she tutted, brushing the sweaty hair off of his brow. “Would you like me to make you another tonic, a stronger one to help you sleep?”

He hesitated, then nodded miserably.

“Just a moment, then.” She trotted to her cart, ingredients flying to her hands before she had even reached it. She made a potion double the strength of the first one, with a strong dash of sleeping draught. Turning, she made her way back to the bed with the steaming mug as her brother once more struggled into a sitting position, hindered by another coughing fit.

He swallowed the mixture in a few gulps, grimacing, whether from the taste or his sore throat, she wasn’t sure. Then, she helped him lie back yet again, propping him up with pillows so he could breathe easier. The process seemed to wear him out. His eyes drifted closed immediately.

Elliamina tucked him in, straightening the blankets around him. He mumbled something incoherent as sleep overcame him.

“What did you say?”

“Stay with mbe,” he mumbled, his wheezy exhale turning into a snore.

“Don’t worry, I will,” she whispered, though she knew he did not hear.

Elliamina spent the rest of the evening puttering around, finishing her deep scour, making soup for when her brother woke, tending to his garden, and other domestic things that she had helped him with since they were children. She gave special attention to his workbench. She cleaned it and sanitized it thoroughly, even using a special cleansing spell on the parchment he had been working on. Sure enough, as soon as it was clean, she saw many of the sigils reverse themselves to what they should be. With a little smile, she replaced the papers where she had found them. Meanwhile, the tonic did its job admirably; Elmrador hardly moved, and he was breathing much easier. The only sound he made for many hours was soft, even snoring.

Evening turned into night. Mina was an early sleeper and early riser. As soon as the sun was down, she made a little nest for herself with extra blankets and pillows on the freshly scoured floor in front of the fireplace. She was weary from her day’s efforts, and dropped off to sleep without any effort, expecting her brother to sleep soundly through the night as well.

Imagine her surprise when she was awakened by him jumping out of bed in the middle of the night and running to his workbench, lighting candles hastily as he went. He banged down into his desk chair, picked up his quill, and began scribbling furiously, muttering to himself.

“Elm? What ails you?” she yawned, getting to her feet and wrapping her shawl around herself to go stand at his side, feeling his forehead. His temperature seemed almost normal, though his cheeks were flushed. He paid her no mind.

“The spell. It came to me in my sleep. I know what I was missing.” He sniffled wetly, wiping his sleeve under his nose, but continued scribbling away.

“I shan’t try to reason with you, since you’re so determined, though I wonder how you’re awake at all for how strong that tonic was. I don’t want to imagine the state you’ll be in in the morning.” She sighed softly. He seemed fine for now, but the tonic could only mask symptoms for so long.

With a shrug, she shuffled back to her nest. As she went, she mumbled: “Fates help you if you wake me again, though.” In front of the fire once more, she burrowed into her blankets, and was quickly lulled to sleep by the sound of his quill and his muttering.

It was a harsh cough that woke her again in the morning, just as the sun was beginning to rise, but not hers. She yawned and stretched luxuriously. For a moment she forgot where she was, until a wet sneeze made her turn.

Elmrador was just as she had left him the night before, hunched over his workbench. Spread out all around him were what appeared to be hundreds of chain shirts, and more were in the process of being finished. However, her brother looked more asleep than awake as he worked. Harsh, dark circles ringed his eyes, vivid against his pallor, as was his raw, chapped nose. Just as she noted this, the nose disappeared into his handkerchief .

“Hrrr’RUSH’eeww! Ahh’NNXGH’shuuh!”

“Oh Elm,” she murmured fondly. “You are in quite a state now, aren’t you?”

“Mbina… Good mornig. Loogk, I fidished mby prototype. Idt’s mby best worgk, I thingk.”

“It had better be, for you to be working as ill as you areYou look awful. You ought to go back to bed right away.”

“Id a few mbinutes. As sood as I fidish these three, I’ll have 300 done. Thed I cad automate themb to reblicate thembselves.”

Such a long speech made him cough harshly, his voice long gone. She tutted disapprovingly. “You’ll be in bed for a week after this. You’ve done yourself in, stubborn fool.

“Id was worth idt,” he said, almost smugly. “Idt’s for the king.”

“So you said,” she said, yet again rolling her eyes. “We’ll see if you can say the same in a few days.”

A hoarse grunt was his only reply. He had gone back to his work and needed all his remaining concentration to finish.

Seeing that he wasn’t moving until he reached his target, Elliamina did her own washing and grooming, cleaned up her bedding, and got coffee and breakfast going. Just as she was putting the eggs on, she saw him toss down his tools with a final flourish. However, as he said, the chain mail materials continued to manipulate themselves to form more armor even as Elmrador wearily stood, scrubbing his face and swiping at his dripping nose with a once again sodden handkerchief.

A round of rough, barking coughs made him hunch over again a moment later, a hand pressed to his chest. A weak “ow” was all he could manage as he tried to catch his breath, a hand now at his temple.

“I didn’t thingk coughig could hurdt so mbuch,” he wheezed.

“Only when you push your body past its limit. Come along, it’s bed for you for the foreseeable future, you dunce.” She moved to his side and grasped his elbow, leading him back to his mattress.

“You don’dt ndeed to help mbe walk, I’m ndot an invalid, only full of cold,” he muttered, trying to pull away. Mina was not dissuaded.

“Be that as it may, I’d rather help you get there just the same. You look as if a strong breeze will blow you over, and then where would I be?”

He deigned not to reply and instead allowed her to seat him on the edge of the bed where he swayed weakly as she helped him remove his sweaty clothes and don his nightshirt before propping him up against a heap of pillows, as his wheezy breathing was rather worrying her. She plied him once more with tea and tonic, which he accepted without a fuss. Then she brought over the plate of steaming eggs and toast. He made a face and pushed it away.

“I don’dt like eggs even whed I’mb ndot sick. I cerdainly don’dt wandt themb ndow.”

“Ah, so that’s why you have so many eggs. Well, would you at least eat the toast?”

He grunted noncommittally and took a half-hearted bite, taking a long time to chew and swallow. He only managed to finish half a slice before he pushed that away too. “Can’dt. Throadt hurdts too mbuch. Jusdt mbakes mbe feel sicker.” He gamely finished his tea though as she watched worriedly.

“You never turn down food. You’re already a beanstalk, Elm. I wish you would eat something.”

A rough cough was the only reply he could manage as he quickly coasted toward sleep once again. Mina sighed and decided to let him sleep, putting the food aside. That was what he needed most now anyway.

And sleep he did, for a long time. Yet his work was not done. He had to get up for a few hours the next day, for once all the shirts were complete he had to do the final quality review of the armor. Elliamina hovered worriedly at his elbow as he did intricate magic to test the limits of his creations. He was so weak he could hardly stand, arms shaking and face flushed as he cast. He had to sit often to catch his breath and wait out bouts of lightheadedness or coughs, but he would be damned before he delivered a subpar product to the king. Mina assisted him as best as she was able, doing whatever she could for his health and ensuring he didn't harm himself.

After hours of rigorous testing, he finally pronounced them suitable, while Elmrador himself ached with weariness. Without another word, he proceeded to crawl back into bed and bury himself in blankets, immediately beginning to snore as one deeply exhausted.

He passed most of the next several days in an illness and tonic-induced slumber. He was miserable when he was awake, every fiber of his being aching or throbbing. Mina forced him to eat and drink whenever she could, but mostly he wanted to sleep, and she let him do just that.

He was in fact asleep when the king's men arrived for the armor. A small crew of men rode up to the cottage with much pomp and ceremony. Mina greeted them in the garden, introducing herself as the sorcerer's assistant. They were immediately enthralled with her, as was everyone that met her for the first time, and she utilized this to expertly manage the transaction. Within 20 minutes the men were departing with many sacks of chain shirts in their cart, ecstatic with their purchase, while Mina carried a hefty pouch of gold, more than Elm had originally bargained for, into the cottage. Elmrador was still asleep, oblivious to it all. She knew he had lost track of the days some time ago, and she didn't see a reason to excite him until he was better.

Instead of waking him, she safely hid the gold in his stores. She then pulled up her chair once more to her place beside his bed, took up her needlework, and softly began to hum as she worked while her brother slept on peacefully.

#sickfic #sicknario #Sickness #snzfic #snzblr #snzario #fantasy #spellcasting #MY OCs #fever #everyone is hotter with a fever #story prompt

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robinsarm · 3 years

Text

Just a Little Anxiety Before you Leave

I’ve unfortunately allowed one of my in game habits to fester and it’s now become a short, one off fic for the Zarina x Deathslinger ship. Enjoy :)

(Word count: ~2400)

(Some mature topics included)

There were times Zarina could get along with the killer she’d arrived with, The Deathslinger. He may have been very rough around the edges and you needed a pickaxe to break through his cold and unforgiving demeanor. But, Zarina had done that on many occasions before. However, right now, Slinger was getting on the girl’s nerves.

She’d been left on the dusty ground of Dead Dawg Saloon for the fifth time now. It wasn’t anyone’s outright fault, the killer just didn’t seem to want to hook her past the first time a few minutes into the trial. She’d had the foresight to bring a loadout that countered such strategies, but it only worked as long as her teammates were feeling altruistic.

They weren’t...not this trial at least.

Yui was busy keeping Slinger’s attention, Nancy was making sure not a totem was left in the small town, and Quentin...well, Quentin had fallen asleep. The killer got tired of hearing those unrelenting crows circle over the boy, so he’d been killed off quickly.

As Yui was placed onto her second hook of the trial, Nancy finally made it to Zarina who’d been crawling towards her the entire time.

“Sorry,” Nancy tried to apologize, but Zarina didn’t stay to hear her out. She turned on her heels and sprinted towards the old saloon. There was a chest out back she wanted to search and, hopefully, get a med kit. However, before she could even pass the killer shack, Nancy screamed, having been speared by the relentless bounty hunter.

Zarina let her head fall back in defeat; why did it always seem like she had to babysit the entire trial? Rolling her eyes, Zarina took a right instead of her intended left and quickly hobbled back towards the water tower. Yui was hooked right behind the dilapidated buildings lining a majority of the town. By the time Zarina got there, the poor girl looked like she’d been beaten to an inch of her life.

“I got you-”

“Don’t!” Yui interrupted her, shocking Zarina into stepping back.

“What? Why?” Zarina asked quickly and instinctively looked down at her feet.

“Nancy’s on death hook,” Yui said with a struggle, right as their last teammate was stabbed to the ground. “One of us is going to make it out. Just take it,” she added, referring to the hatch.

“Why don’t you take it? You can run him better than I can,” Zarina protested, raising her arms to either side of Yui’s torso.

Yui shook her head, her fight with the Entity swiftly coming to a close. “I’m done with this trial.” Her grip on the Entity’s claws began to slip. In a panic, Yui shouted, “There’s a med kit in the basement,” before the Entity plunged it’s finger-like claws into her body and hoisted her into the sky.

Zarina couldn’t stand watching that part of the sacrifice. She’d seen it plenty but it still didn’t get any easier. She wiped Yui’s blood from her face and neck before beginning the search for healing anew. Nancy was hooked not five seconds later; now Zarina was in a rush.

Thankfully, the killer didn’t immediately come for her, so Zarina made it to the basement before ever catching sight of the cowboy. Yui was correct, in the chest was a completely unused Emergency med kit. For a moment, Zarina wondered if Quentin had searched the chest but left the kit for someone else. Like the thousands of times before, Zarina unpacked the kit and used it effortlessly on herself until there wasn’t a wound left bothering her.

Leaving the med kit behind, Zarina bolted from the basement, knowing her time was limited. Find the hatch, that was her only objective at this point. As she left the basement, a feint but noticeable ringing buzzed in her eardrums. She knew what that noise was and already knew it was too late.

In less than a second, the killer shot his gun sending the precisely aimed spear directly into her right side. Not only was she primed to lose another health state, but she quickly realized she was about to lose them both. That spear hit sent a wave of nausea through her system, her skin erupted with goosebumps and she gained the overwhelming thought that she was going to die.

She was exposed.

Zarina yanked on the spear, trying to pull it loose, meanwhile glaring at the killer. “You brought the coin, you fuck!” she screamed at him as he pulled her closer.

“You’re only figurin’ this now?” he yelled back, then laughed as he slashed her to the floor.

Going from fully healthy to dying on the ground was something Zarina hated worse than anything. That action usually broke bones or tore major arteries. It hurt worse than anything Zarina had ever experienced, so she avoided it no matter the cost. But now, she was back on the ground - back to where she started. Now, she was bordering on hating this man.

“Can’t you just-” Zarina paused to spit out a glob of blood out from the back of her throat- “kill me?”

The Deathslinger chuckled whilst reloading his weapon. “Now why would I do that?”

“Fuck you, Quinn,” Zarina hissed as he got closer.

“Oh,” Slinger cooed. “Big words coming from the person who takes them literally.” The killer had dropped low, practically down to Zarina’s level to give her that comeback. He was so close she could feel him breathing on her neck. She knew what he was doing. He’d toyed with her before. She wasn’t going to give him any sort of satisfaction this time, however. She remained stone-faced, staring straight out into the small, desert town, all the while trying to ignore him and the heat flushing her cheeks.

Slinger laughed again when she didn’t responded then resumed his position, towering over her. “Quit bein’ so stoic. You’re missin’ your escape.”

“My escape?” Zarina questioned in her head then gave the killer a narrow stare.

Slinger was still smiling, but he was shifting his gaze between her and something off down the road. Zarina considered the circumstance then pulled herself forward into the dusty road. Turning her head was all she needed to do to see it - the hatch. Down towards the center of town, the metal square seeping black fog mocked her from its impossibly far distance. She gave Slinger another look, this time with more spite behind it.

“Well go on then,” he joked. “I haven’t been pickin’ you up, have I?” With that, the killer walked a few paces in front of her, then turned around and waited for her.

Zarina wanted to scream, maybe even throw a fit and call him a few choice words that would really get her killed. Instead, she lamented, took a long painful breath, and began the crawl.

Right off the bat, the gravel scraping her ribcage and stabbing into her open wounds was enough to make her want to quit. Mixing that with Deathslinger’s added nervous ticks as he waited “patiently” only made her more irritated. The man wouldn’t know how to keep still if his life was on the line. He paced, he tapped his good foot, he inspected his gun and even began cleaning it in a few spots. It was the comments that slowly picked at Zarina.

“Damn your slow for a young one,” or “I think my mum, 6 feet under, might beat ya to it.”

The only thing that kept her going was the fact that she’d brought Tenacity. The distance between her and Slinger and the hatch were all closing fast. If she had to endure this harassing torture at normal crawling speeds, Zarina would have just given up.

As Zarina passed the stagnant killer, she let herself wonder if he was actually letting her go. But, like the godly timing this killer always seemed to have, Slinger smothered that thought as she heard the spurs of his boots clinking towards her. She stopped just as Slinger stepped over her, now standing with a boot on either side of her ribcage.

“What?” she grumbled as she tried to look back up at him.

“You’re goin’ a bit faster than usual. Remind me what you’re runnin,” Slinger asked with a tone in his voice Zarina didn’t like. He was tormenting her and now she was wishing she hadn’t used her Unbreakable earlier in the trial.

“Tenacity,” she answered begrudgingly.

“Ah, that’s right. How ‘bout we slow ’r down a bit,” Slinger insisted more than asked.

Zarina almost immediately ignored him and continued crawling; it was an action she instantly regretted when Slinger prodded his spurs into her sides. She yelped and tried rolling away only to be stopped by Slinger’s other leg.

“Slow it down,” Slinger repeated more firmly this time, then resumed his normal stance.

The list of things Zarina wanted to call Slinger at this point had reached an extended scrolls length. She was so fed up and just wanted to go back to the campfire. She could rant and rave there about how annoying he and this entire trial had been. Most likely she was just going to sleep her anger away like she always did. Sleep sounded intoxicating at that moment, so Zarina focused on that.

The survivor made a conscious effort not to move too quickly. She’d start a crawl then stop, making sure no part of her was about to run into the knives that were Slinger’s spurs. As she crawled, Slinger stepped up with her, slow and steady. That’s how they moved for what felt like minutes. She crawls an inch, he steps forward, she crawls a few more inches, he steps forward again. Zarina hated it.

Eventually, Zarina ignored the killer entirely and focused on only two things: the rhythm and the heavenly whistle of the hatch not 10 meters away from her. She counted the meters the best she could. 9...8...7. With each passing moment, Zarina’s heart pounded harder and harder with excitement, with hope. Adrenaline was surging through her veins, making her shaky. Once she was close enough, Zarina forgot all about the killer above her and resumed crawling at her faster pace.

Another mistake she was quickly corrected on.

“Now what did I tell ya!” Slinger reprimanded as he reached down and grabbed her shirt.

“No! Wait,” Zarina screamed.

She was so close. If she reached out she’d be able to touch the edge of the metal escape. Just one more second and she’d be gone.

“You messed up Kassir. Shoulda listened,” the killer taunted as he slugged her effortlessly onto his shoulder.

Tears welled in Zarina’s eyes. Another death. After all that torment, she’d let herself believe that he was going to let her have it. She felt embarrassed and humiliated. For once, she let herself cry. Instead of wiggling at a chance for freedom, she gripped onto the back of his coat and held on for dear life.

“Caleb, please,” she begged with a shaky voice. “I’m sorry, please. I’m sorry.”

The killer stopped in his tracks and gripped onto Zarina’s shirt tighter. “I ain’t fallin’ for your crocodile tears-”

“I’m not faking!” She screamed as more tears leapt from her eyes.

“Okay, okay,” Slinger lamented softly. He was hearing the emotion in her voice now. Setting his weapon against the shack wall, Slinger used both hands to gently slide the survivor off his shoulder. Zarina didn’t get far before she latched onto him, wrapping her legs around his waist and hugging his throat like she’d fall off if she didn’t.

“Love, I was only playin’,” Slinger said, trying his best to calm the girl that was glued to his torso. “I was gonna give ya’ the damn hatch.”

Zarina didn’t try to make any additional comments. She was currently focused on keeping herself quiet. She may have felt like an absolute hot mess but she didn’t want to irritate the man any further with her sniffling and lack of control over her emotions.

Slinger, trying his absolute best, gently patted Zarina on the back while he paced around the area. Eventually, he figured she needed support, and he needed a bit of weight off his lungs, so Slinger lifted her up under her thighs. All Zarina could offer in return was a small apology that barely escaped her throat without cracking.

“I really get you this wired?” Slinger asked genuinely as he walked over to the windowsill of the shack to lean against it.

“No, I just-” Zarina cut herself short, feeling her throat about to give out again.

“Settle, love,” Slinger whispered and gently kissed her shoulder. “Breathe for a minute.”

“ ‘m sorry,” she mumbled into his coat.

“Quit your apologizin’. You didn’t do nothin’,” Slinger said. “Shoot your shit when you’re calm enough.”

A man of many words this one wasn’t, but Zarina liked that. Slinger was always straight to the point, sometimes being a little harsh, but she could take it. She’d be a pretty bad journalist if she couldn’t handle a few expletives.

Eventually, the survivor got around to calming her mild panic attack. At the first sign of her settling down, Slinger questioned again if she needed to speak her mind. There wasn’t much Zarina could say that she hadn’t already vented to him about before. So, she just shook her head and feigned exhaustion before trying to remove herself from the killer’s arms.

“I don’t give a shit how tired you are,” Slinger told her flatly. He kept her fixed to his chest then began the short walk back to hatch. “When you get back to your friends, bring your ass right on back here.”

Zarina raised an eyebrow even though he couldn’t see it. “What do you have here that I’d want?” she asked, playing along.

Slinger shrugged. “Quiet night. Apology whiskey. Maybe some make-up sex.”

Heat rushed to Zarina’s face again as she tried to stifle an excited laugh. “Whiskey’s fine.”

“And so are you,” Slinger quickly added before safely dropping her at the foot of the hatch. “Now hurry on and get your ass on back here.”

Zarina laughed for a moment before her wounds reminded her that she’d better get going. “Thank you, Caleb,” she said softly before dropping into the cool darkness of her escape, fully intending on returning to the blazing heat of that old western town.

#the deathslinger #zarina kassir #dbd #I fully intended on making this short #then it turned into 6 pages #dead by daylight #caleb quinn

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oliviaischillin1204 · 4 years

Text

flora and fauna

Pairings: Platonic Logince

Word Count: 3,879 words

Warnings: being tickled by plants and bugs

i realized that i don’t write nearly enough solo logince, so here’s these good good boys, featuring Logan being stuck, Roman being smug, and the Imagination just trying to defend herself

Logan didn’t know why he did the things he did.

Sure, when Roman suggested he and Logan take an ‘expedition’ into the Imagination so Logan could study and categorize the beings found there, it had seemed like an educational and fun activity for the two of them. But when they arrived, Logan found that the Imagination, while certainly entertaining, was largely as nonsensical as most of Roman’s creations.

“These trees are growing despite the impossibly high acidity levels of the ground,” he rambled, making thorough notes in his pocket notepad as they trekked along the path. “And these flowers don’t seem to blossom according to any sort of seasonal pattern, Roman. What did you call their species?”

“I don’t know!” Roman replied cheerfully, hopping across a small stream that Logan was sure had not been there a moment ago. “That’s why you’re here.”

Logan blinked at him, incredulous. “You expect me to be able to completely create my own system of classification for the entire ecosystem of the imagination?”

“Yep!” Roman replied. “Because you’re smart enough to do it!”

His words made Logan sighed in fond exasperation. “With the impossible flora and unrelatic fauna you’ve cultivated here, this is going to be one of the most ridiculous tasks you’ve ever asked me to do.”

Roman’s eyes narrowed. “You better watch what you say around the Imagination, Teach. I don’t completely control her, you know. She has feelings.”

Now Logan snorted outright, his mirth increasing at the overdramatic look on Roman’s face.

“I’m going to ignore how preposterous the idea of a sentient ecosystem is,” he said, “and instead inform you that I don’t fear the Imagination. Nothing here can hurt me.”

He moved closer to a tree, inspecting its strange bark. Roman watched him with arms folded and a furrowed brow.

“The Imagination can’t hurt you,” he said slowly, “but it can still get revenge for your rudeness.”

Logan smirked, turning toward Roman. “And how would it do that?”

Roman shrugged. “Like that, probably.”

Suddenly Logan felt something wrapping around his upper chest, yanking him backwards until he hit the tree with a thud. He looked down, and found himself staring at a tangled mass of thick, green vines, wrapped around his chest right underneath his arms, and apparently keeping him attached to the tree.

He looked at Roman, eyes narrowed. “You did this.”

“I didn’t!” Roman insisted, holding his hands up defensively. “Honest to goodness, Teach, I’m not controlling this. Maybe you shouldn’t be so rude to the Imagination? I don’t think she likes it.”

Logan scoffed, tugging at the vines across his chest and finding them much sturdier than they looked. “Well, make her let me go, then. This isn’t funny.”

Roman hummed. “Well... maybe you’ll think it’s funny when she starts tickling you.”

That made Logan freeze in place, his hands locked around the vine he was attempting to pry off of him. He looked up at Roman.

“Excuse me?”

“Tickling you,” Roman repeated, a small smile growing on his face. “I think that’s what she’s planning on doing, anyway. She’s very playful like that.”

“That’s--” Logan cleared his throat, hoping to hide the slightly nervous tone of his voice. “That’s absurd, Roman. Why would she-- it-- the Imagination... do that to me?”

“Because you’re being rude, obviously!” Roman retorted. Logan was about to protest against that-- what’s so rude about making logical observations?-- but before he could speak the vines seemed to shift around him, more and more dropping from the tree’s high branches until there were several hanging loosely in the air in front of Logan.

He tugged at the band around his chest with a tad more urgency. No luck.

“Roman,” he warned. “Let me go, or--”

“Or what?” Roman challenged. He settled back on a large, cartoonish toadstool, watching with interest as the vines continued to move closer to Logan. “I don’t think you’re calling the shots here, Teach. Might as well just let it happen.”

Logan opened his mouth again, but clamped it shut as one lone vine, small and thin, hovered right in front of his face. He stared it down (or, as much as he could, considering it didn’t have eyes). The vines wiggled threateningly.

“Wait--”

The vine didn’t wait. Instead, it dove in to flutter rapidly all over Logan’s neck, making him gasp and struggle not to let out any laughter.

“Oh, don’t worry, he’s very ticklish.” Logan craned his head to see Roman ‘whispering’ to a few vines close to him. “Yes, his laughter is very cute. I can’t wait to hear it, either!”

“Roman!” Logan hissed, a wobbly smile rising to his face despite his best efforts. “En-- enough-- no!”

He jerked his head to the side in a weak attempt to protect his ear, which the tiny vine was now targeting with vigor. Logan was so distracted by these smaller tickles, he failed to notice the other vines creeping closer, until--

“Ah!” One poked at his side.

“No!” Another traced along his hipline.

“W-- wait!” And yet another began fluttering just above his belly button.

“Yes, those are all his favorite spots!” Roman cheerfully confided in the vines. His eyes shifted to Logan. “Ready to apologize, Teach?”

Logan gritted his teeth. “Absolutely not.”

Roman shrugged, turning back to the vines with a wicked smile. “Have at it.”

Logan’s eyes widened, and before he could react, all of the vines dove in at once.

The one at his side began gently prodding up and down his torso, apparently searching for the most ticklish spot so it could focus all of its attention there. The one at his hip wrapped once around his entire hipline, and began rhythmically squeezing in just the right spots to make Logan curl his legs up as much as he could. And the one at his tummy switched from fluttering to full on scratching, especially at the small circle of pudge right around his belly button.

Logan couldn’t help it: he began laughing, loud and hard and giddy.

“No-hoho, not there! Stohohop!”

He batted at the vines as much as he could, but the restraint around his upper chest kept him from reaching them very well. Meanwhile, more and more vines creeped forward, until he was trying to fight off two, three, four vines at each one of his tickle spots.

“Nahahahahaha! Rohohohoho!” he cried out, stamping his feet to the ground. Unfortunately for him, the movement just served to draw attention to his legs, and a few vines darted down to squeeze and vibrate all over his thighs and knees.

From his position to the side, Roman flashed Logan a cheeky grin. “Better not cause a fuss, Logan. The more you fight it, the more she just wants to tickle-tickle-tickle you!”

Logan could barely hear him over his own laughter. He threw his head back against the tree, unable to stop himself as his bright peals of laughter echoed all around the forest. He realized it was pointless to try to fight off the vines, and so instead he settled for covering his face as much as he could.

“Hey, no hiding!” Roman scolded. “She wants to be able to see your smile!”

Sure enough, Logan began to feel the tiny vine creeping around to scratch just at the edge of his hands, on his cheeks and jawline. He giggled anew at the feeling, and managed to move one hand out quickly enough to push the vine away.

“Stohohop that!” he insisted through his laughter.

To his surprise, the tickling stopped, and he greedily took in deep breaths. He glanced at Roman, who was watching him with a purely diabolical look on his face.

“Someone’s in trouble,” he cooed. Logan didn’t have the chance to ask what he meant-- although the flipping feeling in his stomach made him worry that he already knew.

After a moment, Logan began to feel the vines around his chest moving, pulling away from their previous position. He felt a surprised gratitude for about half a second, until all of a sudden the vines split into two ropes, both of which crawled upwards and wrapped around each of his arms.

The whole thing happened in less than a second. Logan tugged at his arms, and realized that they were now practically mummified to the tree above him, leaving his entire torso open for tickles.

“Oh, better watch out, L!” Roman chirped. “I think she wants to play with your armpits now!”

Sure enough, Logan felt two wiggling stems prodding at the bottom of his pit, just above his highest ribs. He giggled; he hadn’t realized how much those vines were protecting him, and he wished more than anything that he could close off the vulnerable spot.

“I hope she doesn’t find out that she can crawl through your short sleeves to tickle your bare underarms,” Roman pondered aloud, inspecting his nails. At Logan’s affronted noise, he looked up with a face full of faux-innocence. “Oh, should I not have said that?”

“I hate yohohohou!” Logan’s words were lost to a fit of frantic giggles as the two vines easily did what Roman suggested. They slid up and through his short sleeves until they were able to stroke and scratch all over his bare skin, and Logan couldn’t help the violent explosion of giggles that escaped his mouth at the tickly feeling.

“Nohoho! Get out of thehehehere!”

The vines didn’t listen, and to Logan’s distress a few more returned to their previous positions, wiggling all over his torso without being blocked by his restraints. A few of the smaller ones even darted upwards to thread themselves through Logan’s shirt sleeves, relishing in the fact that they could now tickle Logan’s bare midriff.

Meanwhile, Roman was clearly enjoying watching Logan get tickled, and decided to help by making up for what the Imagination lacked: verbal teasing.

“Oh, is she going for your ribbies, L? It’s a good thing you’re all tied up with nowhere to go, because she’s not particularly great at counting. Just try not to wiggle too much, okay? We don’t want to mess her up-- Uh oh, was that a snort? Little Logi has some snorties when the Imagination tickles his tummy? Ooh, I wonder if she can make you make that noise again. It makes you sound even cuter than you already are!”

“Stohohohop!” Logan insisted, although it was impossible to know if he was talking to Roman or the Imagination. Either way, Roman gave a dramatic sigh of displeasure.

“I’m surprised at you, Logan. It’d be just so easy for you to take your punishment without complaining, yet you still insist on disparaging the Imagination? You’re lucky you’re not getting tickled even worse than you already are.”

Logan’s blush deepened further. “Shut uhuhup!”

“And you’re still being completely rude! I think you’re gonna be here a while, huh?”

A precise pinch just above Logan’s knee made a small shriek escape his mouth, his leg kicking uselessly out in front of him.

"Rohohohman!"

Roman smirked. "Maybe if you ask the Imagination nicely, she’ll let you go.”

"Nohohoho!" Logan squealed as the small vine brushed against his ear yet again, this time teasing the sensitive spot right behind his earlobe.

"Still no, huh? If you insist.”

Roman abruptly stood up, marching over to Logan and gently urging the tickling vines away from him. As the logical side slumped against his remaining restraints, he eyed Roman warily, especially as the creative side moved closer to inspect a nearby bunch of plants.

“Actually, I think the Imagination brought some friends in to help her,” he said conspiratorially, cupping his hands around something in the bush and moving back towards Logan. Logan leaned forward, still curious despite his current situation.

In the middle of Roman’s palm sat three brightly colored bugs that looked similar to caterpillars. Two of them were about two or three inches long, while one was easily less than an inch big.

“These are called song worms,” Roman announced proudly, “thus named for the way they survive solely on a diet of melodious music. They have very particular taste-- nothing too harsh, or else it’s bitter, and nothing too quiet, or else it’s bland. Recently, though, I realized that music isn't all they like to listen to. And once they hear something they like, it can be... very tricky to persuade them to leave it alone."

He shoved the wriggling mass in his hand underneath Logan’s nose, forcing him to take in their fat, fuzzy bodies and tiny, scurrying legs.

"What do you think it'll feel like once these little guys get to crawl all over your tummy?”

Logan gasped, eyes going wide, and immediately started shaking his head.

"No, no--"

Roman hummed, pulling his hand back and letting the worms crawl across his knuckles. “Do you think it'll tickle more or less than the vines?”

"Roman, please,” Logan interjected, “please, I'm begging, alright? Please let me go, please stop t-- ti-- tickling me!"

"Oh sure, of course, Specs!” Roman said agreeably. “No problem. Just say you're sorry."

Logan froze, staring at Roman in disbelief. "What?"

"Say you're sorry for disrespecting the Imagination,” Roman continued. “It's that easy."

He shrugged, giving Logan an innocent smile, and the logical side felt himself growing defensive.

“I was not disrespecting the Imagination,” he insisted. Roman tsked.

“Calling the flora ‘impossible’ and the fauna ‘unrealistic’?” he said. “That sounds pretty disrespectful to me, Teach. Just apologize for being rude, and I’ll let you go.”

If Logan had been wiser, he would’ve apologized. Unfortunately for him, his stubbornness completely took over.

"I won't apologize for speaking logical truths!"

"Suit yourself."

And with that, Roman tugged slightly at Logan's tie, pulling his shirt collar away from his neck, and dropped all three of the song worms down the front of his shirt.

Logan went ballistic.

"Nohohohoho!" erupted from his mouth as soon as the fuzzy worms made contact with his skin. He jerked forward as far as possible in a desperate attempt to curl in on himself, but all he succeeded in doing was jostling the worms further until they all fell down his torso-- brushing against his chest, ribs, sides, and stomach the whole way down-- to the bottom of Logan's tucked-in shirt. There, they finally righted themselves, and each began a slow crawl up Logan’s lower tummy.

“Nohoho-- ohohoho my God---”

If he weren’t tied to a tree, there’s no way Logan could’ve stayed upright. The worms didn’t just tickle, they were torturous; each one managed to wiggle and explore at a maddeningly slow pace along Logan’s tummy, and their fuzzy bodies coupled with their delicate legs made him feel a level of ticklishness he’d never experienced before.

“Oh, I think they like you!” Roman cooed from his position seated on a nearby log. “Your laughter must be absolutely delicious to them!”

“Take them out, take them out, take them out!” Logan screamed. Roman only laughed.

“Ready to apologize?” he asked. “’Cause if not, we can stay here for a while. All night, maybe! Just you, and me, and the three little worms snacking on your yummy tummy laughter. How long do you think you could stand it?”

As Roman teased him, one of the worms began crawling up the side of Logan’s hip until it reached the divot at his natural waistline. Logan cackled, bouncing up and down as much as he could in his position.

“Not there! Not there!”

“Ooh, bad spot?” Roman asked gleefully. “I think you’re in trouble, L. That noise you just made was way too cute to not hear again, and I think my worm friends agree!”

True to Roman’s words, the worm on Logan’s side paused for just a moment after it initially touched Logan’s tickle spot, but after a few seconds of hearing his cackling laughter, the bug began parading around and around the spot in a tight circle, scribbling its soft legs over the skin as much as it could. Logan wheezed, his body lurching in the other direction, but it wasn’t long before he was met with a second worm giving him the exact same tickle attack on his other side.

Roman laughed outright at the way Logan began jerking his hips back and forth in a frantic attempt to dislodge the tickles. “Aw, are you dancing, Logan? I’m sure those hungry worms are delighted by the show they’re getting with their dinner!”

“Plehehehehease-- make them stop!” Logan screeched, smile about ready to split his face. Roman stood up, walking slowly over to Logan with his hands behind his back.

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll stop anytime now,” he said conversationally. “I mean, all they want is some food!”

His tone turned a little more teasy as he stepped closer to coo in Logan’s ear, “And maybe they’re right. It is dinner time, isn’t it? I think I’m gonna head back to the Mind Palace for some supper, okay, Logan?”

Although it was hard to hear him over Logan’s laughter, the logical side managed to understand exactly what Roman was threatening. “Dohohohohon’t leheheave me hehehere!”

Roman smiled, and lifted a hand to pat Logan’s cheek condescendingly, giving him a quick scratch under his jaw as he did so. “Don’t worry, I’ll check back on you when I’m done eating! It shouldn’t take more than an hour or so.”

With that, Roman turned on his heel to leave, and Logan’s stomach swooped at the thought of being left alone, tied up and tickled mercilessly, with no one there to save him. He opened his mouth to protest, and--

And an ear piercing shriek escaped from his mouth.

In his peripheral, he saw Roman freeze on the spot, but Logan could hardly see him through the tears of mirth springing to his eyes. While the two larger worms had been getting acquainted with Logan’s sides, the smallest one had been curiously skittering all over Logan’s tummy with no rhyme or reason, leaving ticklish sensations all over his skin. However, it appeared that the worm had found somewhere very interesting to investigate: a strange, small hole in the middle of its new food source. The worm paused, its interest piqued, and without further ado dove headfirst into Logan’s belly button.

“Nohohohohoho!” Logan wailed, his entire body thrashing under the ticklish barrage. The worm in his belly button decided to curl up, warm and cozy in its new hiding spot, and its fuzz was now stroking every inch of the inner walls of Logan’s belly button.

Logan hadn’t even realized what he was saying through his screams of laughter, but after a few moments of babbling he finally realized his lips were moving with the words, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

Before he could react, Roman was next to him, yanking his shirt out from his pants and causing all three worms to lose their grip and fall to the ground. They scurried away, no longer interested in Logan now that they’d gotten their fill of his laughter.

“Are you okay?” Roman asked. He lifted his hand to tug at Logan’s restraints, but before he could even touch them, they released Logan from his standing position and allowed him to crumple into Roman’s waiting arms.

“Ohohoho-- oh my gohohosh,” Logan panted as Roman eased him down to the ground. He wrapped his arms around himself as he caught his breath, trying to rub away the phantom sensations of the bugs on his skin. “That wahahas-- evil.”

Roman looked appropriately guilty. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t actually going to leave you alone, I was going to watch from the other side of the tree. I didn’t realize they’d tickle you quite so badly.”

Logan blushed, a flustered smile still on his face from all of the tickles. “Yehes, well... I’m glad you’re still here. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t let me go.”

Roman sat back on his haunches, looking around them pensively. “Actually, I think you have someone else to thank for that. Or, rather, something else.”

A tap on Logan’s shoulder made him jump, but as he turned to find the source of the touch, he found himself face to face with the tip of one of the vines that had tickled him earlier. As Logan took in the sight, the vine bobbed up and down, as if waving at him.

“Oh!” Logan said in light surprise. He cast a quick glance at Roman, who nodded at him in encouragement. He turned back to the vine, and waved back. “Um, hello there, little one.”

The vine wiggled happily, stretching forward to bump against Logan’s palm in what was almost a handshake. Roman beamed.

“See!” he said, bouncing in place. “She’s really friendly, aren’t you, pretty plant?” He reached forward to stroke the vine, whose reaction to him was much more familiar than her interaction with Logan had been.

“Very friendly,” Logan replied. “Even though she thinks torturing me is merely a fun game.”

He had meant the comment in jest, but the vine seemed to sag at his words. Before he could apologize, however, she took off into the tree and quickly returned with a small bulbous flower, the exact shade of Logan’s tie.

“I think she’s trying to say sorry,” Roma supplied helpfully. “I mean, she’s the one who undid your restraints when the tickles got to be too much, not me.”

The vine edged closer to Logan, shyly offering him the flower. Logan took it, and after a moment awkwardly patted the vine on her ‘head’.

“Erm-- thank you,” he replied. “And... I’m sorry that I called you impossible, and unrealistic, and... everything else I said. It’s not your job to make sense, and I shouldn’t have insulted you for it. I’m sorry.”

In a flash, the vine was wrapping around his wrist, just tight enough to not be painful. Her tip began to rub against Logan’s hand, tracing the lines of his palm, and Logan was hit with a strange urge to coo at it.

“Do you think,” he started suddenly, turning to Roman, “we can come back tomorrow? After today’s events, I’m, very curious about the environment here and would like to study it further, such how its sentience manages to transfer between organisms, and--”

“And maybe someone might want to get tickled again, now that he and the Imagination are best friends?” Roman asked. He laughed at the way Logan’s blushed deepened again, until the vine unwrapped herself from his wrist and darted to poke Roman in the side.

“Ah!” he squeaked, gently batting her away. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop teasing, I’m sorry.”

Logan smirked. “I suppose that explains why you know so much about the Imagination’s tendency towards tickling?”

Roman blushed, shoving Logan’s arm. “Shut up, Specs.” He heaved himself off the ground, and after helping Logan up, the two began making their way back to the door of Roman’s room.

“Bye, Imagination!” Roman called over his shoulder. “See you tomorrow!”

As Logan followed him, a small vine waved at him out of the corner of his eye. He smiled, waving back. Perhaps there were worse things to be than ‘impossible’. In fact, Logan realized, the impossible things just make life that much more fun.

#my posts #my writing #tickling #tickle fic #tickle community #flora and fauna #sanders sides tickling #ler!roman #lee!logan #the way that this turned into a bunch of worldbuilding about the sentience of the imagination LMAOO #whatever i had a good time #also these closing shifts where i can literally stand around for 2 hours on my phone are excellent for my writing brain #i also literally just realized that roman isn't really the 'ler' here...#but for tagging purposes that's what i'm gonna put lol

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thecandywrites · 3 years

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Blood For Gold Chapter 14

Ha! You THOUGHT I had forgotten this but no. No. Not by a long shot. it's just getting GOOOOOD. Like intrigue, sit on the edge of your seat as you subconciously hold your breath, good. The plot thickens and it's getting complicated and dangerous and you're gonna love it! Just...love it.

@punkhorse96 gurl, this is for you. Enjoy.

Blood For Gold

Chapter 14

“So what caught that nose of yours so strongly tonight?” Benny asked as she stole into Sierge’s room and was in the process of eagerly disrobing him again.

“I couldn’t be sure.” Sierge shook his head, not wanting to disclose the secret his nose uncovered, although if push came to shove and it was either him attaining Benny or his brother attaining Audra and his happiness was the price of his brother’s, he would officially have enough to tip the scales in his favor. Although now that he had been close enough to Sultana Audravienne, he realized the secret to why the Sultana would have so much coin to throw around, she was obviously a private whore for the Red Velvet Rope. Living a double life and supplementing her income. By his calculations the Sultana could pull in hundreds, maybe even thousands of pounds, being a pure moura with marks like hers, anyone would be paying through the nose to see how extensive they were and if she were masked, no one would be any the wiser because of how “proper” English society was and how covered up they usually had to be, no one would ever see that much of Audra’s body to say one way or the other in polite society. But if the gossip columns got wind of it, she’d be done for.

That is how the Sultana enraptured his brother, they met on the train first, then went to The Red Velvet Rope where she was already latched onto Demsey through his cock and was making Demsey compete for her with the Dauphin, just another moura playing another game of cat and mouse or mice in a maze. All mouras were the same, except for his Benny, his perfect, brilliant Benyana. Who had captured his heart, mind and soul.

“I don’t believe you.” Benny practically sang as she pushed him down into the bed before she practically pounced on him and used her fingertips to both stroke and rake her hands all over his already marked body.

“Demsey’s whore at the Red Velvet Rope, I found her scent on another orc.” Sierge finally confessed as Benny continued to licentiously tease him.

“Well she’s a whore and her whorehouse was hosting the event, of course she was working, she has to make a living too.” Benny reasoned with a shrug as she started licking up his cock and could tell that wasn’t all Sierge had uncovered.

“So what else?” Benny prodded as used the tip of her nose to nuzzle his ballsack as his mostly hard cock layed over most of her face, the head already weeping and the sight threatened to pull every ounce of air from Sierge's lungs.

“Come on, you can trust me, tell me. Have I ever betrayed your confidence?” Benny encouraged before she used the tip of her tongue to split the two testicles as she licked from the back of his ball sack to the underside of his cock then licked all the way up to the tip, grinning as it got completely hard from her minstrations.

“No.” Sierge hissed as he fisted the bedding. Benny and that tongue of hers was something else. He loved it.

“Then tell me.” Benny offered before she swirled the head of his weeping cock with her tongue before flicking it and giving him a heated look of desire.

“She wasn’t there as a worker, she was there as a guest.” Sierge finally groaned when her mouth closed over his cock as she gave him a few good sucks as Benny giggled in her hum around him.

“And did you find her?” Benny asked as she used her hands to start massaging his thighs.

“Yes.” Sierge confessed as he felt like he was in heaven.

“And?” Benny pressed further.

“The resemblance is uncanny.” Sierge said, figuring that was the safest answer he could give.

“Then why did you sniff at Audravienne at the table and the other blue orc?” Benny asked as she used her breasts to squish around Sierge’s cock, the underside rubbing against her breastbone.

“Because I could smell her on him.” Sierge said.

“It was a crowded dancefloor, she could have brushed up against him.” Benny excused, trying to see how much Sierge would give up.

“Not unless she had sex with him on the dance floor, I could smell her sexual essence on him. On his pants particularly. It had been attempted to be wiped off, but her essence was potent and very fresh, less than an hour old.” Sierge admitted.

“Well she’s always had a thing for orcs.” Benny revealed.

“What do you mean by that?” Sierge asked as he rose to his elbows to look at her perplexed by her choice of words.

“My brother Leumeni? He used to get her off with his fingers and tongue a lot back in the stables, it hurt him something awful when she became a shakan and couldn’t return to them, never even returned any of his letters either in all that time.” Benny revealed.

“He what?!” Sierge asked as he sat up, feeling particular panic grip him for his sister Kiera’s sake because Kiera and Leumeni had gotten quite cozy themselves.

“What? That’s a norm back in the stables, most brothers get their sister’s friends off, mouras of all kinds have high sex drives, it keeps the moura’s “pure” as in no penile-vaginal penetrative sex but that doesn’t mean you can’t suck someone off or help them masturbate in turn, but the keiy point is, is, it’s just sex, no feelings, no strings attached, or that’s the way it’s supposed to be but not the way it is right now between us.” Benny giggled as she climbed into his lap and seated herself onto her prize.

“Does that mean that Kiera is in danger of Leumeni…” Sierge began.

“Oh no, wherever we are, we have to hold ourselves to the code of ethics and standards of where we are at the time. So since it’s not proper for a “lady” such as your sister to be in any compromising situation with a gentleman, Leumeni likes her enough that he won’t jeopardize her honor. Nor any of the other jewel orc counterparts. But you and I obviously have something much more precious and valuable than they do, don’t we? And it would be a shame if we didn't take advantage of every chance and opportunity to get as aquainted with each other as we can be, can we?” She coached as she held his face as her gaze held his as she was undeterred and rode him.

“That we do.” Sierge had to admit.

“Then don’t worry.” She reassured him before he fell back into the bed and let her ride him as she pleased.

Meanwhile in Demsey’s room.

“You have to tell her!” Tzane demanded of his eldest brother as Demsey was laying in bed with his arm over his eyes and just wanted rest more than anything, his body was spent, his mind was exhausted and his heart was torn in conflicting confusion.

“I will, when the time is right.” Dempsey reassured Tzane.

“And what’s wrong with right now?” Tzane pressed.

“She’s tired, just like I am. She’s already in bed, it would be inappropriate to go to her rooms, especially at this hour.” Demsey argued.

“Oh you say that, but yet we all know that Sierge isn’t staying alone in his room, we can all smell them on each other. But no one even bats an eye.” Tzane argued.

“That’s because the only thing Sierge cares about- is his own pleasure more than any woman’s honor, even a moura bride’s.” Demsey growled, frustrated that every time he closed his eyes he was seeing Miss Draft instead of Sultana Audravienne.

“If you don’t tell Audra now before the Dauphin and Dauphine push Ramsey to ensnare her to the point where she has no choice put to accept him, it will be too late and Audra will have to put up with sharing her partner with her brother of all people, it’s heartbreaking enough for a partner to be unfaithful, but that’s too much like incest for anyone.” Tzane pleaded.

“I know! That’s why when I get a chance to privately tell her, I will, so that she can protect herself from him and his family. Tomorrow, I will find a moment to tell her tomorrow and I will not rest tomorrow night until it comes to her attention, now please for the love of the gods and all that is holy, return to your own quarters and get some rest. Please, I beg of you.” Demsey pleaded.

“I will hold you to it.” Tzane insisted before he left and returned to his own room.

Meanwhile Calla had found her way into your rooms through the secret passages.

“Audra, there is something you need to know.” Calla insisted as she came over to your vanity where you were removing your makeup and wondering why you had put on gold glittering eyeshadow before you left but it seemed to have turned white and then black over the course of the evening, it was happening to more and more of your gold powder and glittered substances and it alluded you as to why it kept happening, it kept happening ever since Edward’s death and you didn't know what was happening but it was getting on your nerves.

“Is it about how Axal and Ramsey are lovers?” You guessed.

“You know?” Calla asked, shocked by the fact that you knew already.

“Of course I do, Axal told me about the attraction the moment they landed here and he’s been inseparable from Ramsey ever since and I understand if the sight of Ramsey sucking Axal off on the balcony above us caused a disruption to Tzane and Demsey, such kinds of relations are a bit taboo in this society but I had no reason to make a scene and embarrass anyone tonight by throwing a fit, although if push comes to shove and I’ll need that reason publically, I’m sure Axal will “confess” to everything to give me an out eventually. For now, I’m content to play blissfully ignorant until then. But you must swear to keep all that a secret, especially from anyone and everyone else.” You confided.

“So this...does not upset you?” Calla asked.

“No, why should it? I have no attachment to Ramsey and therefore no reason for jealousy, at this point such a union with Ramsey would be considered incest on account of Axal which is all the reason I need to dismiss Ramsey as a suitor and his attempts to woo me and I love Axal dearly and I want to see him happy and Ramsey seems to be able to do that quite nicely and honestly with Axal going to 3C’s, it makes quite a bit of sense. Axal has a solution to the “problem” and it should become realized soon. So all I have to do is wait and play along for now.” You told her.

“Oh.” Calla frowned as she considered all of that.

“So you and Tzane seemed to be quite the pair tonight, does he please you?” You asked her as you scooted over on your bench and patted it in invitation so she could sit next to you.

“He is the most noble and remarkable and brilliant gentleman in all of England.” Call sighed dreamily as a love drunk smile seemed to plaster itself on her face which brought a happy grin to yours before Calla started talking about how wonderful Tzane was.

Meanwhile back in your grandmother’s room, she was taking council with her daughter, her daughter’s mother in law, as well as your hier father’s wife and her mother along with the Dauphine herself as they had all passed around your original contract with Edward along with your contract with Richard as well as the reports of the stable master’s assessments of you after you had been reassessed after Edward’s death.

“This makes no sense.” Your mother said as she wiped the tears from her eyes, reading about the abuse you suffered.

“I think it makes perfect sense.” Maradiem, your heir father’s wife, and your "step mother" answered.

“Then explain it how you see it so that it makes sense.” Your mother demanded.

“What is missing about the reports is Jane. She was only 15 at the time, and is still at the absolute mercy of her monstrous parents. She was an innocent caught in the crossfire according to Audra and the only soft spot the Morrigans found to “push” because they ripped all the others away. Audra had no means of escape, she had no way to fight back. She was being watched at all times and drugged with mourkatili. Served at Jane’s hands no less. If Jane had any sense of self preservation, she of course would play the innocent wounded, weakling to Audra, beg for Audra’s compliance so that she wouldn’t get hurt from Audra’s point of view but also play the compliant pawn to her parents to keep herself from actually suffering their "abuse" which I'm sure was just a show for Audra's sake. And while the Morrigans found that if they appeared to punish Jane, because Audra herself was too strong to defeat by any other means, they used Jane to emotionally manipulate her and dupe her into anything. Jane still, could have reached out to the stables, she could have reached out to any number of people at all the balls or anything she went to, she could have sent a private message to the stables to intervene if she really had Audra’s best interests at heart and wanted to protect Audra as much as Audra protected her. As it stands now, if Audra dies, it is Jane who is Audra’s beneficiary. All that money and wealth, goes to Jane if something happens to Audra.” Avania, Sylvar’s mother explained as Maradiem nodded her agreement to that explanation.

“Exactly.” Maradiem nodded.

“And I have dispatched Charlotte to get the truth from Jane, Charlotte is quite good at gaining trust and gaining invaluable intelligence, she is far more intelligent than she lets on, she is with Jane now, in the gardens and is gathering intelligence as we speak and has been since she came here. Plus, it’s been no mistake that Countess Agnes Morrigan has always had her eye on Ramsey for Jane herself and with Audravienne out of the way and with Jane inheriting all that Audra has, even that would be enough for Gregori or Ramsey to reconsider.” Yalin confessed.

“But as it stands now, Audra’s body has been poisoned or "tainted" as you would view it, to the point that any chance of her producing an heir is naught and any designs that Gregori or Ramsey have about her producing an heir for your family is not feasible.” Your mother Jodhaa voiced.

“Yes, both Gregori and Ramsey will have to consider that Audra even trying to conceive could endanger her life. And I will speak with them about it myself.” Yalin readily agreed.

“I think we need to reach out to Audra’s paid companions, bring them here and question them and see what they know and question all of Audra’s servants, the ones that followed her from Broadcove are especially suspicious.” Loreiris insisted.

“As it stands, Scotland Yard is at Broadcove and at Mirador. And we have hired Bellfast, who is a mage- and they are especially keen with everything magical and they can conjure up everything that has transpired. And what I heard from them only this morning- is Broadcove was under two spells. The second was placed by Audravienne, to turn all the mirrors and paintings in Broadcove into scene catchers, and the first however was performed by a wizard- Lemark under Richard’s decree, so that no messengerari- would work on the grounds and the lightning rod on top of the house is a form of signal disturbance that affects not just the house but until the very grounds that Broadcove sits on, even their neighbors have difficulty but have never thought that the problem would be with Broadcove and Scotland Yard in their in their investigation have found that at least three men in the postal system have been hired to catch all of Audra’s mail and all mail addressed to Audra and they themselves disposed of it but as of right now- those letters are being rebirthed into existance by Bellfast. Each one will come with a high cost- of course it will be demanded of the Morrigans to pay for. So we do have solid evidence of Richard tampering with all communications.” Yalin divulged as she pulled the letter out from her pocket and passed it around for the others to read.

“So Richard made it so that Audra couldn’t reach out and from that, obviously Jane could not reach out either. Audra fired back with making everything else in the house a catcher- basically a messengerari that was set to record everything.” Jodhaa smiled in relief as did most of the others.

“It appears so, yes, but it’s all protected by a password. If they can crack the password, they can get access to it, or if Audra will be so kind as to provide the password, a case can be built starting tomorrow so that after the komoba battle- we can go straight to court.” Yalin grinned.

“Clever, clever girl, that’s how the stable masters could know of the abuse. Not only did they have Audra’s word, but they must have seen the proof of it with their own eyes. A catcher is just as good as a messengerari.” Maradiem realized.

“And catchers and messengerari’s both hold up in our court system as proof. As long as there is no sign of tampering, it all can be submitted and taken as gospel.” Yalin insisted.

“Now if you’ll excuse me it is quite late, we need to retire and get at least a few hours of sleep tonight.” Yalin urged them before they all got up and went their separate ways as Charlotte was already waiting in her mother’s room dressing room to tell her what she had found out from Jane but one look at her Lottie and she could immediately tell something was wrong.

“Audravienne’s case can not be allowed to make it to court.” Lottie insisted as her eyes glossed with tears.

“What? Why?”

“Because Jane has uncovered the plot to bring Audravienne into this family. And if the case goes to court- Audravinne and Jane will be assassinated to cover up the plot.” Lottie urged her mother, her own panicked tone giving Yalin pause and worry.

“By the Morrigans? They’ve already tried to kill Audra with mourkatili and failed, but why would they try to kill their own daughter? That doesn’t make any…” Yalin shook her head no.

“No- not by the Morrigans, but...but by Father.” Lottie blurted.

“What are you talking about?” Yalin asked as Lottie’s tears began to fall and she started trembling.

“Count Edward Morrigan was poisoned with Wolf’s Eye. That’s what made him go crazy to begin with. That’s what made him abusive to Audravienne and what got her that shakan status. When Richard and Agnes discovered it, they thought it was Audra, but it wasn’t, she was innocent and had no knowledge or involvement and Jane has proof of Audravienne’s innocence but her parents did not believe Jane and believed that Audra had brainwashed Jane into thinking Audra was innocent, the reason they bought that mourkatili was revenge for Edward. Father poisoned Edward and killed Edward so that Audravienne could marry Ramsey quicker. Jane knows that Audra is innocent, she also knows of father’s involvement and if it goes to court, Jane knows that it will be the death of not just Audravienne but herself if not her whole family to cover up father’s involvement. That’s why it can’t go to court. What has already been done is all that can be done, if any further steps are taken- the implications would ruin everyone involved, even us, especially us.” Lottie revealed as Yalin had to sit down and clutch her middle and fight not to throw up.

“Doesn’t father’s actions make more sense than ever? Father is so desperate to get Ramsey married that he murdered Count Edward to make it so once Ramsey had chosen Audra at the oddly convenient time of her wedding. But now that Audravienne is tainted with mourkatili, she can’t produce heirs and Count Edward died for nothing. If they move forward with the court case, and all is revealed- we could lose everything.” Lottie urged her mother as Yalin started crying as fear and panic gripped her own chest.

“Say nothing for now, to anyone, not even father or your brother. Do not let on that you know any of this. Maybe there is still a way to hang the Morrigans on the mourkatili and prove Audra’s innocence and leave it at that.” Yalin insisted as she fought to find her composure.

“But what is worse is I fear that Axal will meet the same fate. Axal has caught Ramsey’s eye and heart from what I can tell and Ramsey will never let Axal go so that he can embrace Audra and Audra has no wish for Ramsey, it’s plain for everyone to see. But I know that Father is unyielding and Father will make her choose Ramsey if she doesn’t want her own neck in a noose because he could as very well put the poisoning on Audravienne, father has the ability and connections to tamper with the evidence and then turn that tampering on Audravienne, it could be “proved” that she was the one to kill him via Wolf Eye, once things are tampered with- it’s all ruined.” Lottie professed.

“And with Charlico mated to Heavencrest, there is no escape for Audra. She can’t flee to the colonies because Charlico will find Heavencrest, the way all mated pairs of griffins do. Audravienne is trapped, whether she knows it or not but Father will make her aware of it. It’s just a matter of time. And father can always just buy one of Ramsey’s other lovers, have them moved into the palace and pass off their children as Audra’s children to make them legitimate heirs and lock Audra away to make it seem like she becomes pregnant.” Lottie fretted.

“But that means that Audra will be just another prisoner, just another pawn like before. She will be miserable and will drink herself to death, she has enough self respect to not put up with it. It won’t work. If she can not find happiness and contentment, she will be gone. And I swore to her I would protect her from another life like that. And I have every intention of keeping my word.” Yalin insisted.

“But what can we do?” Lottie asked.

“I don’t know, but we will think of something.” Yalin reassured her daughter.

“For now, just...try to get some sleep, and watch over Jane and Audra and Axal. Don’t let any harm come to any of them, make sure to be the first to eat and drink everything offered to them, your own moura genes will protect you, as will the servants. I will find a solution as fast as I can.” Yalin swore to her daughter before she saw her daughter out and then got undressed and retired to her own bedroom where her husband was already fast asleep as Yalin slipped into bed with him and stared at him wearily, if not with fear and a good healthy dose of mistrust.

For all of their marriage they had both loved and admired the other’s cunning and ability to play intrigue better than anyone else in court and in business so that they always came out on top. But she never would have thought her husband capable of actual murder and if Gregori had poisoned Edward, she knew that with Audra being so close and so “attainable” he wouldn’t stop there. Gregori would absolutely kill Axal, he would kill Jane, he would even kill Audra if it meant that his own deeds would never be known and her own family would be torn if not beyond ruin if it was found out. She needed to encourage Demsey Voyambi to take Audra as a bride for himself sooner than later because it was clear to her that he had a deep affection for her and she knew him capable of truly loving her and giving her the loving home life she so desperately wanted. And she needed to find another option for Ramsey that would tempt Gregori off of Audra. Come the morning, she would be talking to Axal herself to find another solution and everyone would just have to accept that nothing more could be done in your case.

#Blood For Gold #Blood For Gold Chapter 14 #regency era orc drama #regency era orc #mouras #regency era #exo #exophillia #the plot thickens #oh but the ringer #the kicker #will hopefully sucker punch you #and give you whiplash #hopefully #if I have given you the proper hints #and you've been paying attention to the little details #you can figure it out

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lizacstuff · 3 years

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SCK / Edser asks - ep 31/32

Asks about episode 31, some discussion of 32 under the cut

Anonymous said: with the past two episodes, i realized, for me at least, it's not so much about it feeling disjointed (31 didn't really feel disjointed to me tbf) but about the lack of edser screentime. when we do have their scenes, they're good! but the last 2 eps haven't had a lot of it which is what's frustrating (more annoying to me than even selin believe it or not). the fragman for next week looks good though.. with serkan losing his shit more and more.. which can only mean good things for us! lol.

Yes, I agree with this. This episode was a lot less disjointed than 30. 30 felt weird. For 31, there wasn’t enough Edser, but I found it leaps and bounds easier to watch than the last two episodes. As for not enough Edser, I was wondering if that was partly about the short shooting week. For episode 31 they only shot 4 days, a couple of paps said that they did that to give Kerem 3 days off last week because his family was visiting from US/Canada. I don’t know if that’s true, but they follow him around so they pry know if the fam is in town or not. Perhaps in doing that, they had to rely more on the second unit and focus on other characters?? Because there was a lot of focus on other characters this episode.

Speaking of other storylines, I do have to say that I’m very relieved that there is an actual reason why Ceren has lost the thread a bit. If she’s off her meds it explains a lot, and I’m thankful that while she tantrumed a lot about Eda and forced herself on someone who wasn’t inviting it with Deniz, she didn’t do anything unforgivable like actively try and hurt Eda.

Also the Erdem and Leyla scenes were amusing, and my queen Melo can do anything she wants. The only character who actually gives a damn about Eda and Serkan.

While there wasn’t enough Edser, there was more than a lot of people are giving the episode credit for. They had several really good scenes in the office with the balloons and the staring and later him questioning her about Deniz. We got jealous Serkan sniffing around Eda and Deniz’s cafe, and a really nice outside Eda’s house scene that got them being kind to each other and really, honestly talking. Then the funny scene inside with everyone thinking they were back together and Aydan freaking out. (we even got Serkan getting a few cathartic slaps!) The boat scenes were good, but they could have been better. I think they could have given us more and Eda could have been a bit more open with him trying so hard.

The final scene was a slap in the face and I think sort of tainted the rest of the episode, but without that, I thought there was actual progress made.

As for the fragman (and the extra scenes released in the VDay video yesterday) I actually have hope for 32 being a turning point. We’ve seen him be curious about her and opening up with her, now I think we’ll see the ye olde sexual attraction hitting him hard. That should be good! Plus banning love in the office! Vintage jealous Serkan!

Anonymous said: Last week's episode was not my favorite but after this week's, I'm just confused at the writing situation. You could jump from episode 30, to the last minute of episode 31 and you would've seen all you needed to see. It feels like they're wasting potential. Maybe the showrunner knows something we don't about how much time they have but I'm at the "not mad, but very disappointed" phase with how this story is going. And the "Ceren is crazy off her meds" storyline is particularly striking an nerve.

I’m sorry that the Ceren off her meds story is upsetting to you, I can see that. Unfortunately, I really don’t have faith they’ll do it justice. This show has treated some very big issues like agoraphobia, claustrophobia, narcolepsy, panic attacks and lets not forget amnesia and PTSD, at a very superficial level. However, I am glad that they at least gave a plausible reason for Ceren to undergo a behavioral change.

However, I don’t agree with you that the rest of the episode was pointless. I thought the Edser we did get was very good and Serkan made big strides. He was drawn to Eda, intrigued by her, asking questions, very jealous of Deniz, lying to Selin, getting annoyed at Selin, and meanwhile Eda and Serkan had some nice quite conversations. Remember the man doesn’t know her, but he feels that primal pull towards her and it still terrifies him. Especially now that we’re past her heightened emotions of ep 29, and he’s realizing what a competent professional she is and also caring and sweet, not quite the picture that Selin painted him.

The problem is the 1 step forward, 2 steps back that they’re having him do. However, what I’m hoping will happen is that all these experiences, these big steps forward he makes with Eda, before he freaks, gets back under the influence of Selin and jumps backwards, will have a cumulative effect and he’ll take a giant leap forward soon.

There are so many moments that show his tendency to be carrying and attentive towards Eda (offering to drive Eda home after the yacht, vs telling Selin he’s busy and she can go on ahead so he can sit and think about Eda), the switch has got to flip sooner rather than later for him.

Anonymous said: So I noticed that "March 20th" is 5 Saturdays from now. I sincerely hope they don't drag this fake engagement out until then

Good GAWD, don’t even say that! LMAO. Honestly, truly, I don’t think we’re going to drag her fake engagement out that long. Really truly. Have I convinced you yet? Have I convinced myself yet?

That would be way too much. By March 20th I’m expecting them to be sexing each other up!

Anonymous said: Think I am going to shake off the not so greatness of the last two episodes by thinking about how hot it is going to be watching Serkan try to win Eda back. Because we ended yet another episode with Serkan apparently still having zero interest in putting his engagement on hold and no progress made towards unmasking Selin’s game. Edser scenes were fire always but still too short & too far in between. At this point I think most of us could write a novel about how all over the place the writing is and how little things makes sense but that is just too depressing.

Yes, I think this is very true. IMO they really miscalculated by going with these engagements. They are really wearing on the audience. But I do think you’re right, that them constantly changing writers is a big part of the issue. Also I think it has to do with constantly living on the edge and not knowing how many episodes this show is going to have. I don’t know how any show could have a clear and consistent narrative with that constantly hanging over the creatives heads. It’s an interesting way to do things.

It is a bit head spinning when you think about how much time on this show they spend with Edser together and how much apart. HOWEVER, I’m a big proponent that from 16-26, they were basically in a romantic relationship the entire time. Even though they weren’t together, they were together, they belonged to each other, they couldn’t leave each other alone, every decision they made was with the other in mind. But I’m one that doesn’t find those episodes as tortuous as some, there are a LOT of good moments and scenes in there.

Anonymous said: So was Deniz agreeing to work with Selin supposed to be the start of her downfall? Or not? It honestly seems like the show is not even going the route of Selin doing something to mess with his memories anymore and just going to have Serkan flat out choose Eda over Selin but who knows. Only shining light on that front was the fact that Selin & Serkan had very few couple scenes in the last episode.

You are me, I’ve been wondering about this. The last episode sort of made me give up hope that Selin is going to face any repercussions for the disgusting way she has manipulated and brainwashed an amnesia victim. I mean, she will be heartbroken and will have to slink out of town again, but it’s possible she may not face any blowback from the other characters and that will suck.

On the bright side (you know I always have to look on the bright side) that means instead of her being unmasked, it will be, as you say, just Serkan, once again, straight up choosing Eda over her. Which is delicious and romantic in it’s own right. Their love once again triumphing over the biggest of odds, with everything stacked against them and people actively working against them and him suffering from a brain injury. That’s big. And I think after the way Serkan has treated Eda, it’s important that he choose and not just have th choice taken from him by Selin being “unmasked.” Though I’m happy if she’s unmasked after he’s already fallen for Eda (which lets be honest is actively happening).

So there’s a lot of upside to that, to Serkan just choosing, however if that happens and she leaves prior to him regaining his memories, we’ll probably have to suffer through Serkan thanking Selin and apologizing to her and that might make me break whatever screen I’m watching the show on that night. I keep telling myself the writers have to know we need some comeuppance and consequences for Selin, but I’m not sure I trust them to do that. It’s possible she’ll skate again.

The spoilers (which so far are batting about 50/50, so this is still all grain of salt) said that the last scene of 31 would be “bad” (it was IMO, ouch!) but that it would start the unmasking of Selin. If Deniz is playing Selin (which I think is very possible) then that spoiler cold still be true.

Maybe Deniz is a straight up a manipulative villain, but it feels like we have enough of that already. Doesn’t he seem smart enough to realize that he’s never going to get Eda through trickery, and would be much better served by championing her best interests instead of employing underhanded tactics to separate Eda/Serkan? So maybe he’ll help humiliate Selin by reveling what she’s doing. Who knows, we shall see.

Anonymous said: The thing that bothers me the most is serkan's attitude towards eda. When he is alone with her he is vulnerable, attentive to her, listens and tries to find out more about her and their love and the moments they spent together, he tries to remember. And when he is surrounded by other people especially selin he is completely different with her. He is cold, says cruel things to her (the moment he said that he will never marry her seriously serkan?) and he humiliates her constantly. PART1

Really I wonder why this sudden change every time there is surely something we don't know yet. PART2

Yes, there could be something we don’t know that’s contributing to his behavior.

Though @echoapothecary had a good theory about those spoilers that came out about how Selin was doing something with pills and potential drugging of Serkan... what if the spoiler types got it wrong from call sheets and mistook Ceren with the pills for something Selin was doing?

Serkan’s behavior could just be his pre-Eda robotic personality terrified of the person he becomes after Eda, combined with Selin’s abusive manipulation and brainwashing, combined with traumatic brain injury, combined with PTSD from the plane crash. That’s a lot to overcome.

Anonymous said: Poor Eda how much pain can she bear , she is suffering so much and she tries to stay strong and do everything she can to get her serkan back. I feel so much sympathy for her character, she has endured so much but she remains strong in spite of everything. If she decides to give up I wouldn't blame her, she has the right to think about herself for once. It's up to serkan now to open up to her, to show that he cares about her and wants to remember her.

My heart breaks for Eda. However, come on, it’s been like a week. Eda is stronger than than that, she wouldn’t be Eda if she gave up. She knows Serkan is suffering from a brain injury and being manipulated by that barnacle.

Also, remember how we spent episode 20-26 with Eda keeping her distance and controlling everything while Serkan worked his tail off to get her back, his love never wavering. They work because they don’t give up on one another.

Anonymous said: The only way for serkan to react is to feel that he is going to lose eda (she had already tried everything, recreating their moments, kissing him but nothing worked). Eda knows this and that's why she decided to start this game with Deniz, it's her only motivation. To make serkan react, be jealous, feel that he is about to lose her just like in episode 11 to finally confess his feelings. P1/

At first I was totally against this fake engagement but now that I see it from another point of view it seems to me that it is a good idea. Just how could eda have guessed that deniz was not sincere in his intention to help her and just wanted to take advantage of the situation. P2/

Yes, you’re right. Eda knows that Serkan needs to be pushed into a corner to act. That’s what happened the first time. If only we see a reaction like he had the first time around!

What I didn’t like is when Deniz expounded on their “love story” and made up the whole thing about them promising to get married which prompted Serkan to ask Eda if he knew about that. Eda had to say no and I feel like that gives Serkan a mistaken view of their relationship. That they were not in a place where they would have confided such things. It feels like it works against Eda’s objective. So that move puts a mark in the “Deniz is actually a manipulative shit-stain” category.

I just so badly want one of the other characters (Engin, Leyla) to accuse Serkan of being jealous and for him to respond that he doesn’t get jealous and for them to be all like, “Yeah, maybe you didn’t used to get jealous, but with Eda you were jealous of anything that competed for her attention, including babies and dogs!”

Anonymous said: i love that scene on the boat where serkan stays behind after dismissing selin (when he all too eager to take eda home before btw!!) and he's thinking about their moments together.. it's not flashbacks to his memories of her, but he's thinking about the moments that they've shared the DOES remember right now... boy is he already falling for her all over again

Yes, me too! That was very good moment. He sends his “fiancé” on her way without really even questioning where she’s been and then sits and thinks about another woman.

He’s got to be close to catching a clue! If only he didn’t emotionally destroy Eda every time he freaks out.

Anonymous said: i think it's hard for most people to watch serkan be "robot-y" after sooo many episodes of him evolving and growing and being in love with eda.. but i remember back to the first episodes and there are times and moments where he IS harsh with her there too.. they would have a close moment and then the next day he would be ice cold.. the same things happens now.. he has always, even back then, fought himself falling in love until he couldn't any longer and felt like he was actually losing her.

Yes! This is Serkan circa episode 3 when he freaked out and was a total and complete asshole to Eda. It just hurts so much more this time around. Then Eda, and the audience, could let it roll off our backs because they didn’t have history. Now we have 30 episode of history and love and evolution and it is hella painful to go back to that place again.

However, it is pretty realistic to his character and the guy we met in the beginning. What’s not entirely realistic is him taking refuge in Selin. But I suppose you take the fact that the last thing he remembers they were together, and forget the reason they broke up is that he was never going to marry her, throw in her trauma, manipulation and brainwashing and here we are at engaged!

Anonymous said: you know i never considered how the show must feel if you binge watched all of it.. i started watching from the 1st ep so it's always been this cycle of waiting a loooong week in between, but it must feel different if you've binged it.. i feel like storylines def won't feel as dragged out and therefore you wouldn't feel as frustrated by how long the plot would take.. like we waited 10+ weeks for edser to get back together but now someone can just breeze thru those episodes lol.

Yes, binging would take away a lot of the pain those of us week to week have felt. I binged through episode 9 and it’s been week to week for me every since. Like I said in that other ask, I like week to week, because I like fandom. I like talking to you all in my ask box and I like content, and having time to digest things and I like following the cast and getting spoilers, but the downside is the PAIN. LMAO.

Anonymous said: wow, they even stole your caption. so sorry this happened to you , i hope they take it down soon! i know you work hard to create these gifs and posts ❤

This is about the gal who reposted my gifset yesterday. Thank you so much, she did delete it. As I say, I’m more than fine with people using the gifs for reactions and meta and stuff like that, but it’s against every bit of tumblr etiquette (and rules) to repost entire sets as your own. Please don’t do that.

#sen cal kapimi #edser #Sen Çal Kapımı #serkan bolat #eda yildiz #eda yıldız #sckask #sck speculation #sck episode discussion #edser discussion #asklizac #sck 1x31 #sck 1x32

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