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nataliedrawz · 2 years

Note

HAIII PATTYY!!💛✨

I was wondering if you could write Lee Asahi or a daisuga whatever you are okay with. Ignore this if you get too busy. Stay well rested!!

Coping Technique

A/N: AAAAAA BESTIE!!? OFC OFC! Lee Asahi is so underrated and I STAND for soft giants, I hope you enjoy!!😁

As afternoon struck down ratuer quickly, a certain game of volleyball had gotten the best of a sweetheart, his anxiety of losing it for the team in the next game.

'I'm going to fail, what if they all hate me in the end? What if I continued this as a streak, I can't, their my best friend's and my teammates, maybe I co-'

His thoughts drained out at the sound of a certain classmate who stayed behind to train with him, Nishinoya, he was understanding and knew him rather well, knowing the upcoming game was worrying the brunette.

"Asahi," he started, "Are you okay? Are those thoughts getting the best of you again?" Worried the smaller. Asahi couldn't help but feel a little relief and sat down, "Not at all, why do you ask?" He attempted to play it off, fiddling with his finger's and tapping his foot on the ground in a obviously worringly way.

Nishinoya, knowing how Asahi usually was in these, knew he was trying to play it cool, "You can't lie to me, we're best friend's, remember?" He smiled, "Best friend's never leave another in the dark, understand?" He playfully nudged his elbow into his lower side, earning a startled quiver, his lips curling up slightly from the movement. Nishinoya immediately noticed this and couldn't help but wiggle his finger's a bit, "Was that a giggle I just heard?"

"No-"

A poke on his other side

"Nishihinoya!"

Another poke on the other side

"Okay, I aham!"

"Glad you admitted it! But you won't escape that easily, if I remember correctly, the first year we met and began to play, this was your coping technique, right?" He asked with a joyfully amused expression, knowing his not taking 'no' for an answer, ".. It was.." The tall brunette mumbled into his forearm, attempting to hide his awfully adorable flushed cheeks and wobbly smile.

"Hey! Don't hide from me!" He playfully tazed against his lower side's, making the ace grab his wrist, but in no rush to pull it away, "Huh? Does this tickle? Maybe this too? A little bit over here also, hm, hm?~" Cooed the smaller more agile brunette, gently scribbling and tazing up and down his side's and tummy for a moment, earning the most richest yet most sweetest giggles in the entire world, he didn't pull his wrist away, nor did he stop hiding his smile, shyly inching into each of the libero's offensive finger's, gently yet eagerly clawing higher up each second towards the ace's death spot.

Realizing this, Asahi held both his wrists, letting out pleading 'no's and 'please's, knowing full well his smile was growing wider and wider from the building anticipation, "No what? Don't stop tickling you? Wasn't planning on it! But maybe I could stop once I reach over here!" He grinned, finger's scribbling and tazing into Asahi's underarms, making him flail in place and throw his arm's down, his once quivering body acting like it was against an earthquake, shaking and squirming carefully underneath the devilishly smirking other.

"NOYAHAHA, AGH, NO, WAHAIT!"

"No more waiting, more tickling! You feeling better or not, huh? Or do I need to ticki-ticki-tickle you even more, hm?"

"IHI'M BETTER, JU- AHAHA!"

And like that, kneading gentle circles under the ace's underarms made him absolutely cackle and plead happily, eye's squinting, arm's wrapping around Nishinoya in an attempt to keep them a little bit open for him, and his feet tapping the ground of the gym in a fashion of a dog once you hit it's sweet spot.

"I heard screaming, what's it- oh." Walked in Sugawara, a genuinely happy smile taking over as he heard the happy cries of Asahi, maybe now he'd be more relaxed in the next game?

#ratty writes #friend's of ratty🐀#ratty replies🐀#lee!asahi #ticklish!asahi #ler!nishinoya #ticklish!nishinoya #haikyuu tickling #haikyuu!! tickle #haikyuu tickle #tickle fic #tkl fic

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set-phasers-to-whump · 3 years

Text

there’s (no) tomorrow

prompt: begging

whumpee: nick burkhardt

fandom: grimm

hey! here is me hurting nick Again...and me writing nick/hank Again...i have a problem lol. anyways i hope you like this :)! (title from afterlife by ingrid michaelson)

One minute, Nick and Hank have just split up to explore two hallways of an abandoned building that seems to be connected to their case; and the next, Nick feels a sharp pain on the back of his skull, and suddenly he’s waking up tied to a chair.

“Hank?” he calls out, straining against the study ropes holding him in place.

“I’m here,” Hank replies, from directly behind him. “You okay?”

“Yeah, you?”

“As good as I can be,” Hank says, and Nick can feel him moving, trying to escape his restraints, too - they must be tied up back-to-back. He turns his head as best as he can and confirms this. He also turns just in time to see a man emerge from the shadows, holding a gun.

“Enough talking,” says the man, stepping closer to Nick and Hank.

“What do you -”

“I said be quiet, Grimm.”

That’s not good. This guy knows who - what - Nick is, but Nick has never seen him before in his life.

“Now. I think I’m going to kill you.”

“Isn’t that a little -” Hank starts, but he’s cut off by their captor reminding him that he’d said to shut up.

“Quiet, whoever you are. I’m killing you, and there’s no point in arguing.”

This statement makes Nick downright angry. This man doesn’t even know who Hank is but wants to kill him, and won’t bother saying why. Nick can guess that it has something to do with the murder they’re investigating, but whoever he is, he hadn’t even been on their radar, so there’s very little leverage here.

“Why are you going to kill us?” he asks.

“You think you can convince me not to?”

“There’s always a compromise,” Hank offers. “You don’t have to kill anyone.”

“Yes, I do.”

The gun clicks, and Nick hears Hank take a sharp breath in. He pictures the gun pressing against Hank’s forehead and is about to offer up anything that this guy wants when suddenly the man is in front of him, pressing the gun into his forehead. Nick looks right into his eyes as the cold metal digs into his skin, but there’s nothing there. And then the man steps away, fiddling with the trigger.

“I’m going to enjoy hurting you,” he says, and he steps out of Nick’s line of view, presumably straight into Hank’s. “I’m going to shoot you, over and over, starting at the feet and making it all the way up to your head. I’m going to kill you and I’m going to make it hurt and the Grimm can’t do anything about it.”

Nick pulls harder still at the ropes, feels them dig into and cut his wrists and ankles, but they don’t budge. He hears the gun’s safety click on and off and on and off again and he has to do something, so he asks, “what about me?”

“What about you?”

“Aren’t you going to kill me too?” Their captor hasn’t actually said what he intends to do with Nick. Maybe he can bargain here...maybe this guy wants him, for some reason. It would make sense. He knows Nick’s a Grimm, after all. Maybe he wants something from Nick badly enough that he’ll let Hank go to get it.

“Nick!” Hank whispers, alarmed. Nick ignores him. He can’t do this, not now.

“Why would I do that?”

“Don’t you want to?”

“Not particularly.” Well, if he doesn’t want to kill Nick, maybe he’ll want to hurt him, at least. Hurt him and let Hank go.

“Look, you don’t even know who he is. I’m the Grimm. I’m who you want to hurt. So just let him go. Let him go and you can do whatever you want with me.”

“I don’t think I will.”

This man is evidently dead set on killing Hank and leaving Nick alive. But he can’t kill Hank, he can’t. He can’t kill Hank. So Nick begs.

“Please. Kill me instead, or hurt me, or do whatever you want with me. But let him go, he didn’t do anything wrong. You can’t want anything with him.”

“No, stop, hold on, I'm sure we can reach some kind of agreement,” Hank insists, and then there’s a sort of smacking sound, metal hitting flesh, and their captor says, “don’t you talk,” and Hank makes a sort of angry and indignant sound but doesn’t say anything more.

Something is telling Nick that this is hopeless. That the only way this ends is with Hank dead and him not able to do anything about it. But he can’t...he can’t live a life after that. He can’t get Hank killed. So he keeps pleading, growing more and more desperate.

“Please, you don’t need to kill him, he didn’t do anything to you, I brought him into this, if you want someone dead you should kill me. Please don’t kill him.” Because Hank is so good and he doesn’t deserve this…Nick dragged him into the world of a Grimm and put him into danger and Hank came along willingly because he is the best person Nick knows and he’s about to get killed and Nick cannot do anything and he’s almost shouting now, desperate to be heard, listened to, desperate to save Hank because if Hank survives this then everything is okay.

“Kill. Me,” he insists, and his voice has changed now, a low, dark thing, full of danger and blood. “You don’t want anything from him. He does not deserve what you are going to do to him. I do. So let him go. And take me.”

“Nick, stop.”

“I thought I told you to stop talking,” says their captor.

“Hank…” Nick says quietly, fading off into silence when he realizes there’s nothing he can say.

A shot rings out, then, and it feels like Nick's heart has stopped. He can’t breathe and there’s a horrible ringing noise in his ears and then there’s a much, much better noise.

“Nick?”

“Hank!”

“Shut up, both of you. Now.”

They both fall silent. Nick listens intently, hears Hank breathing, a little too fast but not pained - he hasn’t been shot. And neither has Nick.

“Now. You bring up some good points, Grimm,” says their captor, and finally, he walks in front of Nick, gun raised. “I would love nothing more than to see your blood spilling across this floor.”

Nick inhales sharply, but nods. He’d rather it be his blood than Hank’s.

“I want to make you suffer. But you keep saying, ‘kill me, kill me,’ so you want to be killed. And I can’t have you getting anything you want. So I’ll shoot you, and I’ll make it hurt, but I’ll make you live. And then I’ll shoot…Hank, here, and make it hurt, and make him die. And you will live through it.”

“Stop, please -” Nick begs, but then there’s a bang and pain explodes in his torso and it hurts but all he can think of is Hank and did the bullet pass through him and hit Hank too, and is there anything he can do, and he tries to think of something to say but the pain is too much and he can’t think and he can’t speak and there’s blood soaking his clothes and he thinks that maybe he will die anyway, and he hopes he will, because if Hank dies then there is not much of a point to him living, and he closes his eyes but they’re forced back open when Hank says his name.

“Nick?”

I’m here, I’m alive, Nick thinks, and tries to speak the words. But he still can’t, still can’t…

There’s a sort of scratching and scraping sound and he wonders what it is but doesn’t really care, and then their captor is smiling, and Nick wants to scream at him, but then he says,

“Hey, what are you doing? How’d you -”

And then Hank is there, running forwards at the man, frayed ropes hanging from his wrists and ankles, and there’s a shot and both of them drop to the ground and Nick watches and tries to pull against the restraints but he’s too weak and there’s too much blood everywhere and he feels lightheaded and he is afraid, and then there’s another gunshot and the movement on the floor stops. He watches, and waits.

Hank stands up, gun in hand. He’s breathing hard but he’s not bleeding and he’s alive and there is a hole in the head of their captor and he is okay.

“Nick!”

Hank is in front of him now, hands frantically fumbling with the ropes around his wrists and ankles, and then he’s free and sinking forwards and Hank catches him and for a second just holds him and then pulls away, peeling off his jacket, and says, “sorry,” and then there’s a pressure on Nick’s torso and it hurts and maybe he screams or maybe he whimpers and then Hank is there again and he’s saying something but Nick can’t focus on him enough to understand. God, he’s tired. He closes his eyes and thinks there’s a hand on his face, and then there’s nothing.

He wakes up slowly, like he’s coming out of a thick fog. Everything feels weird and sort of floaty and disconnected and then he opens his eyes and works out why.

He’s in the hospital and there’s an IV in his arm, which means drugs in his system, hence the floatiness and disconnection. He can feel something on his torso, which, if he’s remembering correctly, is where he’d been shot. He’d been shot, and…

“Hank?”

“I’m here,” comes Hank’s voice, from next to him, and Nick nearly jumps out of the bed. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

Nick would lie and say that he hadn’t been scared, but the heart monitor attached to his finger says otherwise, so he gives a small shrug. “It’s okay,” he says. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

He turns to look at Hank and smiles at him and repeats what he’d just said. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Hank looks pained, but he says, “I’m glad you’re okay, too. You had me scared for a minute.”

“Sorry,” Nick apologizes. “I won’t do it again.”

“You better not.”

Hank is so close to him right now, just a few inches away from his bed, and he’s smiling, and Nick really wants to kiss him.

The drugs tell him to go for it, and his common sense tells him to at least ask first.

“Can I kiss you?”

Hank looks startled for all of a second, then happy, then serious. “Let’s save that for when you’re not high on morphine, okay?”

“Sure,” Nick agrees easily. “I’ll kiss you tomorrow.”

He does.

aaaaaa thanks for reading this!!!!! ik like nobody ships them and i am sorry to keep writing it but i cannot stop lmao

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump20 #begging #held captive #tied up #shot #grimm #nick burkhardt #my writing #i say things #this month really has been happy pride to my favorite rarepair lmao #sorry but thats just how it goes sometimes ig

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classicdaisycalico · 5 years

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For the prompt thingy, Luigi and Daisy with "I heard you crying." ;)

Miscellaneous angst starters.

Aaaaaa I’m sorry this took so long! Grad school is taking over my life and I have no time left over besides to study and work part-time (although I think this week might be less of a work-load for me, so that’s good!)

Okay, now for the Italian lessons:

Dimmi = “Tell me”“Non è stato facile.“ = “It was not easy”Per certo = “Fore sure”

Luigi and Daisy, “I heard you crying.”

***

Someone else was sitting at the hilltop.

This puzzled Luigi greatly; almost nobody knew this place on the outskirts of Toad Town. Just getting to the top without getting tired was difficult as it was. Doing so required someone with long legs of some variety, something the Toad citizenry of the Mushroom Kingdom sadly lacked. Furthermore, he was only one of two people who even knew about the overlook to begin with.

The only other person he knew who was aware of its existence was Daisy. He had shown it to her the day they met, after spending the afternoon in town getting to know one another. Maybe it was her sitting there?

Slowly and quietly, he inched closer to the figure. Its shoulders were hunched over, face in its hands, shoulders shaking every now and then. The person must have been crying. He walked closer still, suddenly stopping when he finally recognized that it was, in fact, Daisy.

Truth be told, it took him a while to recognize the princess. Her ruby red crown had been replaced with a golden one, instead. Gone was her yellow dress with the white dollop pattern at the bottom. One with orange trim and matching panniers took its place, with an extra overskirt. What caught his eye the most, however, was her hair. Instead of falling past her waist, it now settled at the middle of her back, flipping at the ends.

But why was she crying? Just seeing her so sad was enough to make Luigi’s own heart ache along with hers. The fact that she came to the hilltop, of all places, made him suspect that Daisy didn’t come here just because she could. She probably wanted him to find her here.

So he did, cautiously and carefully, pacing ever closer until he was right next to her. “Princess?”

Her face was still buried in her hands, but upon hearing his voice, she froze immediately. Slowly, she lifted her head. “Luigi?” she whispered.

The princess suddenly began fiddling with her hair, trying to hide her tear-stained face. “What are you doing here?”

The plumber tilted his head slightly, confused by her reaction. She hadn’t once looked at him, instead turning her head in the complete opposite direction. He reached out to Daisy, hoping he would get an answer somehow. “I heard you crying,” he said, sitting down next to her. “Is something wrong?”

She furiously began wiping away her tears with her free hand, still keeping her hair in place with the other. “I’m fine...don’t worry about me.”

That didn’t sit well with him. “If you were fine, you wouldn’t have been crying,” he countered. “I know what I saw and I know what I heard. Something’s wrong. Dimmi.”

The tension in her body loosened as she let out a sigh of defeat. Taking as much time as she could, Daisy turned around to finally face him. She could barely give him a quick glance before her eyes flickered back down to the ground. All the while, she half-heartedly tucked some of her hair behind her ear. “I got a letter from my parents this morning,” she began, her eyes still looking away. “They said I should be clear to fly home soon.”

“Did they say how soon?”

“No.” She swallowed hard, to keep more tears from coming. “I know I should be happy about it, but...I’m not. And if that weren’t enough...”

She gestured to herself. “I’m sure you noticed something different about me?” she said quietly.

How could he not? “It’s...different.”

“I knew it.” she lamented. “I knew putting all this together was a bad idea. The only good thing about this outfit is that it matches Peach’s, but the haircut makes me feel...gross. I appreciate the idea...really, but right now I just don’t feel like myself.”

For a while, the plumber didn’t know what to say, so he just continued listening.

“I’m not so worried, though. I mean...” she laughed weakly. “It’ll take a while, but my hair will grow back. But right now...”

She leaned against his shoulder. “This is all happening so fast. This stupid haircut was just the tipping point. I’ve gotten to know Peach’s home all over again, and just when I’ve gotten used to it, now I have to uproot myself again so I can reacquaint myself with Sarasaland. There’s no way of knowing how much it’s changed compared to how much the Mushroom Kingdom did.”

So that was what her problem was. Honestly, Luigi and his brother could definitely relate to that, since they were still re-acclimatizing to the Mushroom Kingdom themselves after six years of living in New Donk City. “I don’t know how Mario and I ever did it,” he admitted. “Non è stato facile. Even now, while we’re still recovering from the terror attacks, it isn’t easy.”

“Of course it wasn’t. A lot changed in the six years you were away. But what did you and your brother do when you moved back home? And what can I expect when I do the same thing?”

He thought back to several months before, when he and Mario encountered their hometown in complete disarray thanks to the Koopa Troop. When they finally resettled, they didn’t have much familiarity to go off of.

Still, some was better than none. Perhaps that was how they were able to restart their lives so quickly. “You know that saying? About how the more things change...”

“The more things stay the same?” she finished. “Yeah. What about it?”

He put a reassuring arm around her. ”I think you’ll be surprised by how much is the same. It might be more than you expect.”

Daisy smiled as she felt him her closer. “You’re sure?”

“Per certo. It makes whatever is different seem less frightening. Sometimes, what’s different is less than what hasn’t changed.”

“That’s good.” She placed a hand on top of his. “Except now there’s one more problem...I’ve gotten to know so many people here, and now I have to leave them all behind soon. It’s not fair.”

Her fingers laced through his, not wanting to let go of his hand. “I’m going to miss everybody so much. Mario, Peach...”

“Me?”

“Especially you,” she said. “I’ve never grown so close to someone so quickly...especially not like this. It’s a little scary, now that I think about it. But I don’t want to lose this. What if this is the last time I see you?”

He shook his head immediately following her question. “That won’t happen.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do. I’ll write every chance I get if it means talking to you in some capacity. I’ll scrape every bit of savings I can together for me to go wherever you are, just so I can see you...haircut or otherwise. And I know you want the same thing, too.”

She blushed as she felt him kiss the top of her head. “Always.”

He let his head lean against hers now. “It won’t be the last time, Princess,” he assured her. “I promise.”

#ask me things #drones-of-innocence #luigi #Princess Daisy #my fave #Luigi and Daisy #my mario series otp #o o f again i'm really sorry for the delay #but i churned out some more really good writing so that's good!#and hopefully this lighter work-week should be good for me too!#melissa writes

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gendervoid-omni · 3 years

Text

Arlington

!!!!THE FOLLOWING MAY NOT BE HISTORICALLY ACCURATE AND ALL CHARACTERS AND ARLINGTON ARE FICTIONAL!!!!

Date: 1770 March 4th

Ernest dashed through the streets of Arlington, choppy milk chocolate hair flopping around in the wind. Newspapers flew back into the street as I accelerated to the town’s square to pass out the papers. Oops. I think looking back as I practically fly through the clay buildings. Horses and wagons clatter by, and the buildings grow taller signaling that I’m almost at the town square. Better pick those up later or I’ll get an earful of it from Mr. Miller. I turn my head looking forward, only to have a few seconds as a door rushes up at me. “Whoa!” The door makes a loud BANG! As I bounce off it like a skipping stone, but sadly land unlike one. Owwww. I rub my head, the first thing to come into contact with the door from my place on the ground, shifting my right hand through my hair to rub my skull. There's a long dragged-out sigh, and I look up to see a young man of average height with dusty brown hair and dull green eyes standing in the doorway of which I just ran into at full speed. I stopped rubbing my head and gave him a crooked smile. “Why are you like this Ernest?” William rubs his temples, shoulders sagging. “It’s comfortable on the ground?” I ask that pathetic smile of mine still on. “Mind helping me up?” I stretch out a hand to William, and he glares at it before sighing once again and helping me up. I brushed my brown coat free of the dust, gave a grin, and asked; “How's your day been?”

William groans and snarls in frustration and starts picking up the newspapers I dropped from my fall. “I swear- I can’t believe-” He mutters in frustration. I watch, leaning on the frames of the door. William continues to pick up the papers as I fiddle with my fingers. At some point, he’s finally done with my chore, stands up, and clenches the papers in his hands. This is the fourth time this week. I think. “This is the fourth time this week Ernest!” William snarls, newspapers crumbling a bit in his hands, as he walks up to me, and pokes me in the chest. “When will you learn to look forward?” “Hmm.” I think deeply into my memory, and I have never, never, looked forward. “I think I’ll learn when folks figure out if the chicken or the egg came first, William.”

William pales. “Never start that kind of hijinks in town again Ernest.” He turns and looks at me from inside the bookstore. “Never.” I follow him in and pick up a book; Candide. “Come off it,” I say looking at the cover, some man in a powdered wig is smiling. Rich. He looks like a person who's never worked a day in his life. “It was just a joke.” I start flipping through the novel, getting smudges of mud on the pages. William snatches the book out of my hands and puts it back. “Well then, it was a joke that caused a riot. Now, don’t you have someplace other than ruining my books? Maybe you’ll visit that crazy man Nicholas who should be in a booby-hatch somewhere?” I scowled at William.“He’s not crazy; Just knows how to enjoy life, unlike you.” I shoot back. He responds by saying; “There are around 1,010,300 words in the English language but none of them express how much I want to hit you with a broom.” “Oh! That’s a good one!” I cross one arm and put my right hand to my chin. “And perhaps, the best course of action is action.” William walks off, grabs something, and comes back. “Get!” He shouts, hitting me on the top of my head with a broom. “Leave!” “AAAAAA! I’m going I’m going!” I scramble out of the shop, and out into the streets, where I only have a moment to put myself back together, before I hear a joyful cry of; “Ernest!”

Nicholas was extremely bored. Bored, Bored Boooreed. The single word echoing, well more like singing, in my head. There was nothing to do today. I put my right elbow on the table that sat in the back of the clothing shop. There had been only one order yesterday, which was already made, and today had been silent. Just what could be stopping people from coming? I thought, sinking into the table. Of course, people could just not have the money needed, but there’s always the rich folks that come in all the time. I straightened myself up, a sudden idea popping up in my head. They could all be pulling up the stakes to Boston. It made sense. Boston was a city that meant better business, and better business meant more money. Pulling up the stakes to go to another city or town took time and money, no matter how close it was. I held my mouth and giggled.

Which means, Nicholas silly, no one is going to be coming today. “Hmm.” Well, I do have to get new fabrics, and threads anyway. I stand up, grab the keys to the shop, and go out. Once I lock the door behind me and take a look outside at Arlington’s square. As I take notice of my surroundings, with a bit of shock, I see a redcoat. Strange. Most of the time military presence here is down to its smallest amounts. After all, most of them are in Boston. I giggle. Just like all the townsfolk. I narrow my red-brown eyes behind my glasses. I swear that I’ve seen him before though. “Hmm.”

I turn my head from the strange soldier to the other side of the square. “Get! Leave!” “AAAAAA! I’m going I’m going!” This yelling is followed by a boy with brown hair, and also brown eyes scrambling into the snow-covered street. Ernest must have been pushed out of William’s bookstore again. I give Ernest a moment before jogging over and shouting; “Ernest!” He turns around with a surprised smile. “Nicholas!” He walks over and asks; “What are you doing out of the shop? Actually I don't think I’ve seen you out of the store.” His smile drops from his face, looking behind me at the square. “That's weird. Normally there are more people here.” He turns back to me, worried. “Do you think people are leaving?” I give a little nod. “Most likely going to Boston.” His eyebrows go up even higher. “But-” Oops. Better distract Ernest before he falls into a never-ending staircase of what-ifs. “Do you know I need help because I’m pretty much a hermit?” I asked cutting him off. “Uh, no,” Ernest says, completely forgetting the fact that Arlington might become a ghost town. “Popular colors of threads and fabrics.” I grab his hand and pull him with me to what I presumed to be the Fabric shop. “Now come on!” “That’s not the Fabric shop, Nicholas!” “Oops.”

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