#scribbles ive been poking at for a while

[hinata-boke]

guy with no sense of personal space

#my art #haikyuu #bokuto #akaashi #hinata #tsukishima #kuroo #atsumu #konoha #daichi #scribbles ive been poking at for a while #i just think hes funnyyyyyyy #i accidentally drew him WITH THE WRONG NUMBER FDNVKD #i fixed it...

[slimeylee]

fic prompt in the replies of this post !

first helluva boss fic . ive been very fixated on it recently :3

also inspired by season 2 episode 6 !

* swear warning , tickling .. idk what else

switch ! fizzarolli (he / him ) , switch ! blitzø ( he / him )

__

Fizzarolli enjoyed the fresh morning smell of fire in Hell as he zoomed through the town on his Heelys. He leaned back and relaxed as he was dragged quickly down the sidewalk by his dogs, on his way to his concert rehearsal with Mammon.

Suddenly, the silence was interrupted.

"LOOK, LADY, IT'S NOT MY FAULT IF YOU ONLY KNOW HOW TO MAKE COFFEE THAT TASTES LIKE PISS!" Blitzø yelled, getting thrown out of a coffee shop. He sat up on the sidewalk.

Fizzarolli's eyes widened as he grew near to running Blitzø over, calling out a whistle.

"Woah, woah, woah, woah, WOAH-" Blitzø yelped, bringing up his arm as Fizz and his dogs screeched to a stop.

He looked down at the group of dogs, and Fizz stood with a smirk. "Oh, wow, lookie who it is!" Blitzø's facial expression immediately changed once Fizzarolli began.

"Oh, fuuck.. you again." Blitzø groaned in annoyance, adjusting his sitting position on the sidewalk. "Stalkin' me now, huh?" Fizz grinned widely.

Blitzo stood up from the ground, crossing his arms. "Oh, don't fuckin' flatter yourself, clown. I have my own life, you know; WITHOUT you in it." He stepped closer to Fizz.

"And gee whiz! We've been in each others relative vicinity TWICE in the last FIFTEEN YEARS, that would make me THE SHITTIEST STALKER IN HISTORY!" Blitzø announced, putting his hands on his hips. Fizzarolli had gotten down on the ground, petting one of his dogs.

"Uh-huh! Sure... Blitzo." Fizz teased, crossing his arms now. Blitzø grit his teeth. "The O is silent now, bitch." He poked Fizz in the shoulder, which he then brushed off.

"Twice," Fizz said, slowly raising from the ground and stepping closer to Blitzø. "is already way too much." He said with a large grin, pushing Blitzø out of the way.

"Yeah, well at least I'm still actually working for my shit, and not getting everything handed to me like some pampered attention whore!" Blitzø gestured as he spoke, Fizz walking away while he stepped along.

Blitzø begun walking away as Fizzarolli snarled, but then he looked down at his hand. He then remembered Ozzie, and what he was on his way to do.

"Yeah, well, guess that's what resilience and talent gets ya," Fizz chuckled, turning around. "Plus, my horns were always bigger than yours,"

"Weren't they?"

He picked up his sunglasses, glaring at Blitzø with a smirk. Fizz turned around again to leave, but he was caught off guard when he heard Blitzø running up behind him.

"WhaAAA-" Fizz yelped as Blitzø tackled him to the ground. "You fucking bitch!" Blitzø growled, wrestling Fizzarolli on the ground as the clown attempted to get up. "Get the fuck off me!" Fizz yelled, pushing at Blitzø's wrists.

The two of them suddenly flipped over and Fizz struggled to get Blitzø to the ground. Admist the chaos, Fizz accidentally poked his side. He, and even Blitzø was surprised to hear the squawk that he had let out.

"...What the fuck was that?" Fizz smirked. "Nothing!" Blitzø immediately went back to shoving at Fizz, to which he fought back by poking Blitzø's side again.

"Are you ticklish, Blitzo? What a discovery. I would've thought you'd grown out of this by now." Fizz teased with a large grin. "Oh, fuck no, don't you dare, you fuckin' dipshiIIIIT-!" Blitzø jumped with a squeal as Fizz quickly scribbled his fingers into his side for a few seconds. "Ohohoho! I did think we were gonna fight, but this is even better!" Fizz exclaimed.

"Get the FUCK off of MEHEE!" Blitzø squealed as Fizz tased his sides again. "Stohop doing that, dipshit!" Blitzø said, bringing up his arms from their place on the ground and fighting Fizz back with a squeeze to his side.

"OH, FUCK-" Fizz jumped, nearly totally caught off guard by that. Blitzø sat up, jumping at Fizz and scribbling between his ribs. "SHIHIT!-" Fizz cackled. "Oh wow, Fizz, thought you would've grown out of this by noHOHOW-" Blitzø had taken the opportunity to tease back, laughing out suddenly as Fizz poked him in the side. "Yohou think you're a funny guy, huh?" Blitzø asked him, a small smirk on his face.

"Ihi doHOO- FUHAHACK!" Fizz squealed as Blitzø scribbled into his stomach, squeezing his side a few times inbetween as he cackled. "Yeah, tickle tickle, fuckin' bitch." Blitzø said with sarcasm, a wide grin on his face as he moved back up to Fizz's ribs.

Fizz suddenly came up with an idea. He extended his left arm out and behind Blitzø.

"What are you-" He began, stopping and looking behind him. He jumped with a yelp as Fizz's right hand wiggled into his side. "FuHUHUCK-" Blitzo cackled. He reached out for Fizz's stomach, but Fizz used his left hand to grab Blitzø's.

"You're a fuhuhucking cheheater!" Blitzø yelped, reaching out his other hand. Fizz curled away from Blitzø, smirking. "Oh, no, you don't!" Fizz suddenly moved both of his hands to attack Blitzø, wiggling his fingers into his stomach and sides.

"SHIHIT!" Blitzo cackled, grabbing Fizz's wrists and lunging toward him. "Yohohou're going fucking dohown, bitch!" He exclaimed, his fingers drilled into Fizz's hips as he bounced up with a shriek. "NOHOHO!" The two continued their fighting for a little bit.

Fizzarolli scribbled into Blitzø's sides and Blitzø scratched into Fizz's hips. The two sat up, continuing their tickle quarrel.

They both had let out surprised gasps as they suddenly were lassoed, and flung upwards into a random building.

They were slammed against a wall and heard the word, "Hired," before looking up. It was Striker, and Moxxie's dad.

Well, shit... Now they were in trouble.

__

#slimey-fics #helluva boss tickle #switch!blitzo #switch!fizzarolli #blitzarolli #my babies i love them so much 💕

[godlizzza]

Hi!!!! Ive been reading your ai3 stuff like CRAZY lately and i really love the NSFW stuff you put on there, my favorites being ‘Beg For It’ and ‘Is That Good?’

Anyways, I would love to see more bratty bottom Herbert content 👉👈 pls and ty have a great night!!

"Wouldn't you rather, uh, go upstairs?" Dan asked.

Herbert glared at him over his shoulder from his position bent over the table. "Suddenly putting the breaks on after rubbing up against me? Really, Dan?"

Dan flushed angrily, which Herbert thought was rich. He'd been perched on his stool, writing out his notes when Dan wandered down into the lab, talking idly of dinner. He'd circled the table a few times and it didn't take a genius-level intellect for Herbert to notice the way Dan was looking him up and down, like he hoped Herbert was on the menu tonight. Then he'd settled behind Herbert, wound his arms around him and began pressing kisses to the back of his neck. Herbert had immediately felt Dan's interest against the small of his back, rubbing insistently.

At first, Herbert had ignored him, something he was well-versed in doing when Dan got like this, and continued scribbling away at his notes. Dan had been determined not to be ignored though, and doubled his efforts, sucking under Herbert's jaw, running his hands up and down his stomach and groping him between his legs. Eventually, the words on the paper grew fuzzy as the blood rushed from Herbert's brain to pool in other parts of his body. With an aggrieved sigh, he'd stood up, kicking the stool away and submitted himself to Dan's attentions.

Now, though, they'd hit a snag in things.

Dan was looking cross for a man with an erection tenting the crotch of his pants. "I just want you to be comfortable."

"I'll be more comfortable when you're not pestering me," Herbert snapped. "Now, hurry up and fuck me so I can get back to work."

Dan's jaw tightened and Herbert suppressed a grin as Dan ripped his belt open. If there was one sure-fire way he knew to get Dan moving, it was to poke and needle him. Nothing seemed to get him moving quite like being mad, and Herbert found it easy to work him up into a state.

He gasped at Dan's hands grabbing his hips and roughly pushing him up against the edge of the table. Dan shoved Herbert's pants down and made no further preamble before slicking his fingers up and pushing them inside him. Herbert bit his lip as Dan made quick work of stretching him out, pumping in and out of him. He usually liked to take his time with this part, kissing Herbert's neck or sucking him off while he did it, but that anger Herbert had lit against his fuse seemed to be burning hot, urging him to get right to it.

"You're such an asshole," Dan bit out, three fingers deep in Herbert.

"And yet," Herbert panted, pushing his ass back against Dan's hand, "you're the one who came to me."

"Yeah, and I question myself why after every time," Dan grunted, pulling his hand free. There was the sound of skin slopping against wet skin, and Herbert relished in the mental image of Dan slicking up his hard cock. "There must be something wrong with me."

"There is," Herbert said, his breath hitching as he felt the head of Dan's cock rub against his entrance. "It's why I like you so much."

Dan thrusted into him in one clean stroke, sending Herbert scrabbling at the table, his blunt nails scraping against the smooth wood. He let out a choked noise as Dan began moving, fucking him hard and fast. Pencils rattled across the tabletop and Herbert's stomach was pressed painfully tight against the hard lip of wood, but his eyes rolled back in his head regardless. He braced his elbows on the table and kept steady as Dan continued to pound into him.

He could feel the zipper of Dan's pants brushing against the back of his thighs from where they were shoved below his hips. His fingers were digging into Herbert's hips so hard he was sure they'd leave bruises. This just turned Herbert on more and he let out a cry at a particularly sharp snap of Dan's hips.

"More," Herbert gasped, ducking his head between his shoulders.

"Jesus," Dan cursed, sounding winded. "You're crazy."

"Just do it," Herbert hissed. "This is about the only thing you're- ah!- good for, anyway."

Dan let out a wordless yell of outrage before planting a hand between Herbert's shoulder blades and shoving him down on the table. The roll of his hips became erratic, thrusting out of the blinding pace Dan had set and settling for fucking Herbert in single, spine-tingling thrusts. The grunts Dan let out behind him were deep and animalistic.

Yes, Herbert thought gleefully, his mind so pumped full of endorphins, his brain felt like sex-addled soup sloshing around in his skull. Take me. Fuck me like an animal. Fuck me until I can't walk and you have to carry me away.

"Yes," was all Herbert said aloud. "Yes, Danny, yes."

Dan made a high, broken whine behind him as he buried himself to the hilt inside him and came. Herbert fumbled to reach beneath the edge of the table to grasp his own cock. With a few quick pumps he was coming too, moaning into the wood, one of his notes squished beneath his cheek. Dan slumped over behind him, molding his chest to Herbert's back and pressing his forehead into Herbert's shoulder. His long, heavy breaths puffed against Herbert's skin, leaving the spot wet and hot.

After a minute, Dan peeled himself away, his spent cock slipping out. Without his weight pressing against him and holding him up, Herbert's knees buckled and he had to catch himself against the table.

"Woah," Dan said, reaching out to catch Herbert by the arms and help steady him. When Herbert finally had his feet planted firmly beneath him and he was stood up, Dan tucked his chin over his shoulder and said into his ear, "You good?"

That was the thing about Dan. He never could hold onto his anger for long. It always fizzled out as quickly as it had flared up. Herbert smiled and reached up to pat Dan on the cheek.

"I'm just great. Though, the bedroom does sound nice right about now."

Dan snorted and pulled away to zip himself up. Herbert turned around, not even bothering to pull his pants up, and held his arms out to Dan like a little kid wanting to be picked up.

"Won't you carry me upstairs?" Herbert asked sweetly.

Dan just looked at him, with his pants around his knees, come dribbling down his thighs, and his soft cock hanging between his legs. His eyes flicked back up to Herbert's face and his mouth twisted into a wry smile.

"Carry yourself," he said, then was turning away and bounding up the stairs, leaving Herbert to glare after him.

#let's go bratty bottom herb #and thanks so much! glad youve enjoyed #herbert west #dan cain #danbert #re-animator #reanimator #my fics #asks #writing prompt #spice

[sourinksoda]

Soda talks - Gem fusion ideas Gemcyt

Everyone had some really good ideas for how Weird science aquamarine could fuse, the build up! the drama! Ive been thinking about it too! As well as for Midnight pearl. So for now here are some thoughts i might scribble later, for context WS is baised in hermitcraft and Midnight is baised loosely in the life series.

Weird Science ( Grian and Cub ) Grian stumbles upon early testing for total chaos, having 0 clue who built the thing or what it does, hes flies around pokes a few things setting off a chain reaction he doesnt know about. Cub who is tinkering near by gets an alert that an unauthorised test is happeing, he quickly flies up to investigate and sees Grian just floating around while the rocket system is primed ready to fire. As the rockets launch Cub flies directly into Grian, fusing as the fireworks crash and explode into the ground around them, born into chaos Wierd science opens their eye to an ecstatic light show. Midnight Pearl ( Joel and Pearl ) Joel and Pearl have both been through it, first few days and the two still havent managed to form any alliances, they both have a growing discontent over it. One night Pearl comes across Joel poorly trying to hide from her in the woods, they start to talk and find theyre both in a similar position but red tendencies aside theyd make fine allies right? But the unpredictability ontop of that... They both sigh and sit down gazing up at the sky. Pearl cuts the silence "its a crazy idea but-" "wed be crazier not to try?" continues Joel. They both nod, firmly grab eachothers hand and spin as one into Midnight. Taking a new breath, Midnight looks over the valley "How did the others put it? Crazy is what crazy does!"

#please enjoy these silly ramblings! #also yes genderfluid midnight suits them very well #they/she/he #OKAY BUT WHAT IF MARTYN JOINED MIDNIGHT #soda-talks #gemcyt #weird science aquamarine #midnight pearl

[inkdemonapologist]

So uh.... I recently went back and re-read your 'Smiling Nightmare' fic and given what was sort of (?) revealed in BatDR... UM... Is the assumption the Hell's Studio crew had about Escape Sammy being a 'toon' still just a 'mistake' or....? (Cause for Escape House Crew collective mental melt down #4021, ha ha...)

HAHA OMG this is an amazing connection

But no, Escape AU does not and cannot follow BatDR’s canon. For one thing, Escape AU takes place in the 1960s, and uh, [gestures at Joey],,, But yeah, I’ve said before that Escape AU doesn’t follow Story Theory, and now that Story Theory is more or less confirmed for the franchise, that’s still true. Are the Escape crew fully human? That’s more ambiguous… but they ARE the souls of the original employees.

I did have an idea for an Escape concept where they’re artificial “characters”, back when it was just “based on story theory” – the idea of like, Sammy Lawrence is probably dead, but what if Jack got out, actually? His partner lost his mind and died and then Jack couldn’t stick around much longer and booked it out of JDS. And then Swollen Jack in BatIM isn’t actually Jack Fain at all, he’s just a searcher in a hat that Joey included to imply a tragic fate b/c he’s a storyteller at heart – but he doesn’t have any more personality or sense of self than any other swollen searcher. Ink Sammy has faded memories of Jack and has decided the searcher must be him, but….. when it comes time to escape, “Jack” was never created to be a person and just doesnt have enough of a self to exist in the outside world. So then, obviously, you have an Escaped Sammy who is not really Sammy Lawrence, meeting the real Jack Fain, and neither of them are really the partner that the other lost, but… maybe they can find some comfort in each other, anyway. Thren called them an “unmatched set” and iVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS CONCEPT A LOT AGAIN LATELY

(also while im here: ive gotten A BUNCH of escape au questions lately, TY ALL FOR UR INTEREST!!! I’d like to come back to poking Escape AU at some point, but there’s some stuff I’ve been scribbling that I wanna get into a finished state before I figure out where I am on that, so WE’LL SEE! The Escape Crew is dear to my heart but also sometimes my attention and motivation wanders lmao, so I’ll tackle that when it’s exciting to me!)

#batdr spoilers #i know you have questions you always do #also delighted people enjoyed that fic thank u so much

[agentsquirrelsgotrobots]

More for Little Nightmares x rescue bots!

Of course, Woodrow decided to drop in only a couple of days after Charlie took in Six and Mono.

Of course, he never checked his email.

"Oh, hello there." Woodrow said, to the small, alarmly thin child scribbling in a coloring book with a cardboard box on his head and wearing a trench coat in June.

"Could you tell me where Chief Charles Burns is? He has gray hair, a mustache -"

"Upstairs with Six. Knock first, bites." Mono went back to drawing, ignoring the man. Unlike Six, he didn't immediately jump to biting strangers.

"Okay. Cool. I should check my email. Hey buddy, is it OK if I sit on that couch behind you and check my email?"

"Go sit." Mono said, almost done coloring the puppy with Charlie's badge around its neck.

Woodrow kept an eye on the boy. This wasn't the first kid the Burns had fostered.

They were one of a handful of foster homes on the island, and before Cody was born, they almost always had a foster teen or a placement with high support needs in the firehouse.

Back when there were more firefighters than just Kade, of course.

It was highly unorthodox, but the guarantee of an adult in the house due to the unique dorm style of the house meant that even when emergencies happened, there was always someone off shift that could watch a kid, and the alarm could be customized to skip individual rooms. They would often get cases that had behavior problems or just didn't respond well to a typical family after whatever trauma brought them into the state's "care." (Nearly every single placement came with enough stuff to fit in a shoebox. A child's entire life, and the only thing they had with them was a shoebox's worth of personal belongings, the clothes on their back, and a file folder of legal documents. They left the firehouse, no matter how long they stayed, with two duffel bags and a good school bag. Woodrow packed light, but even then, he still lived out of two storage totes and his car when not traveling. Charlie has most of his mementos stored in his room)

Of course, then Cody was born, and the divorce happened and, of course, the bots, and though all the Burns made sure to keep up their licenses, they have been on emergency placements only for a good fifteen years.

Woodrow finally read through the email marked urgent in his inbox.

Through Griffin Rock weirdness, we have had to foster two severely neglected children, which has led to some changes to how we work at the firehouse.

The oldest, Mono (boy, approx between 7-9) is not to have his mask or coat touched, removed, or commented on.

The youngest, Six, (girl, approx between 5- 7) has severe malnutrition based aggression and should not be bothered or interrupted while eating. Only me and Dani are to be alone with her in any scenario, and Charlie has taken a break from work in order to care for her.

Mono is not allowed to watch TV alone as he has a teleportation ability that allows him to travel between computer screens that he can reasonably fit through. Yes, that's why there is clear duct tape on the TV. It sorta works.

Please knock on all shut doors, Six likes hiding behind them, and Mono likes to sit against them.

No, they don't have any other name except Six and Mono. Yes, we do see the pattern.

"Well, that was interesting." Woodrow remarked.

Woodrow heard the bots drive up the road and wasn't surprised when Heatwave poked his head in.

"Oh. Woodrow, it's just you and Mono."

Mono looked up when he heard his name. He pointed at himself, and Heatwave nodded. "Six get med." Mono said before going back to coloring.

Charlie stepped out with a girl with a raincoat tied around her waist. She was gaunt, her ribs peaking through her t-shirt.

"That's Six?" Woodrow asked. Mono waved to Six, and Six ducked behind Charlie.

"She's all done with her IV treatments. Today's was the last round. She doesn't like new people, and we are working on ways to leave people she doesn't like without biting, so I won't bring her down."

"So, I-C-E-C-R-E-A-M?" Kade asked.

"Yes." Charlie replied. "Mono, come eat. Woodrow, I will transfer some money so you can find somewhere else to stay."

Mono got up and looked back at Woodrow, a squeak slipping from his mouth.

"Mono, we have all the food you could want." Charlie said, clearly expecting a reaction out of him. Mono ran up to Woodrow, grabbed his hand, and pulled him out of the garage before sprinting into the elevator and pressing the button furiously.

"Mono -" Charlie sighed. "I'm sorry, Woodrow. He's just not convinced that there's enough to go around yet, and the kitchen is open to him at all hours. I've put snacks in his room that he hasn't touched, and he will try to share every scrap with Six if we didn't do separate mealtimes, so I know he doesn't just sneak everything onto her plate. I don't blame him, though, for what I've seen, Six does most of the protecting for the both of them."

"Yeah, I don't know either. Open kitchens and safe, hygienic food stashes usually helped hoarding and resource guarding, but Mono's definitely a character. I'll take a hint. It was nice seeing you either way."

"Take care, Woodrow. Can you wave too... Woodrow.... Six?" Charlie realized that he was holding the cuff of an empty raincoat, and had told Mono there's food.

Oh no.

He might have just incited a kitchen riot.

Charlie dashed back into the main apartment, being greeted by Six eating out of a dumped out package of oreos on the counter while Mono had swapped his cardboard box for a cloth mask and was presumably looking for matches for the stove. (He still didn't quite grasp the idea of an electric one)

Charlie was thankful that he had put everything flammable or sharp in a series of multiple locked safes, with an assortment of keypads, locks, and a fingerprint lock. (Mono didn't understand that one either. Six just tried to smash things or climb them. She was smart in a rock climber way, not in logic puzzles and combination locks)

Charlie picked up Six off the counter, brushing the oreos back into the package, taking both thd kid and cookies into Six's room. He set her on the bed with the cookies and her raincoat, throwing her a teddy bear Cody had given her as an attempt to get her to warm up to him for good measure.

Both Mono and Six completely distrusted him, Mono refusing to say anything except "trap!" and his usual clicks, whines, and sentence fragments. That reminds him. Both kids need to get on a waiting list for speech therapy. On second thought, he'd just call Optimus. He could probably get them both in by the end of the month with his contacts.

Soon, Charlie would learn what Mono meant by trap.

But not today.

Today, the kitchen raid is the biggest mess the two of them will bring to Charlie's feet.

He came back to Kade spreading peanut butter on toast and Dani cutting up bananas. Mono was obsessed with fresh fruit and vegetables and ate baby carrots and peas like they were candy. There were multiple times when Charlie took Mono grocery shopping or just outside to be around people when he would stop and stare at a case of water or a crate of apples or hot dog cart with a look of awe, like he had never seen a stocked store or full shelf just one product before.

Charlie had to remind himself that day th that he didn't know how long Mono and Six and the gnome had been on their own and probably never will.

Speaking of the gnome, it adored Cody and would shriek and run in a random direction if it saw Six.

When asked what Six did to the gnome, Six mimed ripping into something and then threw her toys off the bed.

Charlie assumed she probably ate one at some point.

Cody clutched the gnome a little tighter after it ran into his room that day and hid in its box, a broken birdhouse that he hot glued some old art projects to create a makeshift hutch. The snake tank Dani used to keep multiple generations of gerbils in (one at a time, of course) nearly gave it a heart attack.

Charlie came back to Mono eating from his bag of baby carrots with his cardboard box on and watching Kade mess around with the TV he had teleported through.

Mono had figured out how to plug it in, and had crawled through it when no one was looking, leading to him popping out of the downstairs TV while Blades was sitting in front of it on a video call with Bumblebee

They would never hear the end of it, and that was when the Autobots officially got involved in trying to track down where Mono and Six came from. (And the gnome, of course.)

#transformers rescue bots #little nightmares #rescue bots #maccadam

[cybermeep]

i originally made a one off, text-used-but-speechless-still post as i was on the bus; it didn’t post, nor did it save.. it caused me to be unable to post anything, actually. had to log out & then log back in. not too difficult, amusing actually. im glad it didn’t post, because now i get to go more in depth:

looked down at my keychain as i was walking to my bus. curious, decided to figure out what the character was… a keychain gifted by zee, someone ive discussed in the past. possible first queer person really established into my life. been about… i have no clue, 6 years since their parents & them moved out? they live on their own now, technically not on their own as theyre with their boyfriend but still… amazing person. had the keychain as a gift from them before they moved, haven’t known origin up until this very day. took a picture & tried to find similar things online, found the exact one i had. name is… gachapin…. a… green dinosaur…

“OUT OF— OUT OF ANYTHING, YOU’RE A DINOSAUR. AND.. AND ROUND.” keys jangle. “…WHY?” silence occurs for a solid few seconds. “THEN AGAIN, YOU CAN’T BE ASKED HOW YOU’RE MADE— OR WHY YOU’RE MADE.”

i talk to the yarn crafted object while on the long route home. it is important to note the acute difference between talking to something and talking down. i do not talk down; thats crude. i also use all caps, but it’s important to say my voice is a mere mumble/whisper.

although i use quotes, most of my walk is still silence. pass the playground, inspect the tree carved into; [nothing new, since my drawings; apparently i have scared off my peers with something that is not violent scribbled words but instead small drawings.] make my way towards the pond, keys still in hand. i see mallards all near the shore

all male, all blue-green heads. know they’re male because of plummage. if i say anything, its not important. i take my time to walk forward, all four scatter off once i get a bit too close for their comfort. all of them, together. look down at keychain again, say something thats been on the tip of my tongue

“YOU’RE LUCKY I LIKE YOU. then again, i wouldn’t do anything. im not like that.”

stating this implies i ever hated or thought of hating this small yarn creation in my hands. i have not; it is one of those minute statements i make simply to deflect. standing hear the water in the pond, sand eroded. i show gachapin the view, close but not touching the water. i do not wish for him to get ruined. after this small trip, we go on our way to the entrance and leave. i eat the cinnamon apple nutri-grain bar i had in my pocket— only fitting, because of its hue.

whilst on my way home, i see a caterpillar being eviscerated by what is, hmm.. 6 or so ants. rolling in dirt, still moving but getting oh so taken over.

any sane person would leave the small organism, let the ants have their way, and simply go home. i am not sane, nor am i rational in regards to the time i waste. i pick up the squirming creature and painstakingly remove the 6 ants poking at its body. one near its nether area, another near its legs, many surrounding its face.. maybe trying to suffocate it? i am not well adversed in ant hunting strategies. whatever the case, they are quite difficult to remove— strong. when they are all gone, plummeted back to earth, i have a squirming, semi-alive body in my fingers. curled. i believe for a second i simply saved a corpse, knowing muscle spasms can just be an effect after death occurs— that is, until i see it start to really move places. i am quietly elated at this discovery. i carry the small organism gently, ever so gently, back to my home.

i realize the act of saving this organism is rather unimportant; idiotic, even, logistically speaking. still, even if it is idiotic, i continue anyway. i realize because of the fact its been a good chunk of time, i must give this organism a name… my mind is blank, body moving on pure instinct. there truly is nothing i had in mind, except for one name. huffing, i try to think of something different.

k.k slider. yes, like the dog from animal crossing. fuck it, i don’t have any other ideas. i sit in my front yard and place k.k slider onto a leaf, then pick another different one for variety. get a minute amount of water, incase they’re thirsty. grab a tiny stick. they move slightly, but sluggish. makes sense, when you’re half beaten to death. try to warm up the organism, they could’ve just been cold. bring them inside, find an apple slice which the bag says expired days ago. place them on apple slice, grab leaf one & leaf two & stick, place them on a stone underneath the deck above. i cannot be by their side forever, as that is impractical. i can only hope they thrive

now i am home, as to be expected. i have 7 pens of the same color variety in my bag, something i counted at lunch. flabbergasted i had that many on me. one of them i don’t use; its a neon sort of hue, but i cannot for the life of me find out how i could use it. its a good pen, jellyroll… i would prefer to give it to a new owner, but finding one would be difficult. i have an odd fondness of objects, so i tend to only give things to people i know will treat them nicely— unless i genuinely don’t care about the object. actually, its less of difficulty finding a new owner and more so finding a new owner i would be comfortable giving the object to… who do i know that will treat this object nicely…..?

ah, whatever. at least its not metallic paint next to my bed. haha. haha. oh my god what do i fucking do with it its literally just a 16 oz bottle i won’t use that much paint ever

oh yeah, i go see my psychiatrist tomorrow. you guys dont need to know that, i just write these things anyway.. if you’re reading this, hello! i should stop writing

#cybers tangents

[chickenscript]

Could you write a scenario for each of the turtles where they sneak into to a hospital through the window and visit the reader who is staying the night after they broke their arm?

A/N: i feel like i could've wrote this funnier but hope you enjoy!

Least to say, you weren't expecting any visitors when you ended up bedridden in the hospital.

Well, it wasn't all that serious really. You got a bone fracture in your arm after a little skateboarding incident but, the doctors wanted to keep you overnight for observation and to help ease you through those first hours of sheer pain.

Back on topic though- you wondered why you didn't think that you wouldn't see any familiar faces pop by during your stay considering the company you kept.

And by that you meant they would 100% be the type to break into a hospital just to visit you.

Leo: - You honestly thought he would've tried to sneak in dressed as a nurse knowing Leo and his ideas.

- But no, this time around he had snuck in through your window and did so, so stealthily that he nearly gave you a heart attack when he cropped up right next to your face sudden.

- Thankfully you realized it was him before you could let out a scream that would've alerted a nurse or doctor.

- You laughed the fright off and he took a seat on your bed next to you.

- He started off idle chatter about how you were feeling and the specifics of how you ended up here, and you enjoyed the company as much as you knew he should've waited until you left tomorrow for his own sake.

- You couldn't not appreciate that he had come to check on you.

- You're not sure that you had known anyone before the turtles that would've found a way into your hospital room after visiting hours to make sure you were absolutely okay themselves.

- You made sure to let Leo know that too.

- He smiled sheepishly and ruffled your hair; he'd break into a hospital any day for you. You were one of his best friends after all. (Of which the turtles only had you and April).

- The sentiment made you snort and you smiled back at your goofy friend with a giggely thank you.

- You wouldn't have it any other way.

- Regardless, you had to admit that he probably should've left for the lair before the morning rolled in instead of staying so long into the night getting caught up in nighttime conversation with you that he wound up passing out like you did.

- He had to narrowly avoid being caught by the staff and you tried not to bust out laughing at his "timely escape".

- Which was Leo having to scramble out off the bottom of your bed where he'd sprawled out on so he could launch himself out the window when the nurse came to tell you that you were ready to be discharged.

- The sound of a yowling cat as he landed in the dumpster outside didn't help your case either.

Donnie:

- You...you weren't expecting the impromptu doctor costume.

- Or for him to immediately start out his sudden visit by prodding at your cast the second he was done clambering through your room window.

- Donnie insisted he just wanted to check on the sturdiness of it, but you still had to swat him away so he wouldn't fuss over it.

- With a sigh, you let your arm fall back across your stomach. You didn't have to ask to know why he was here because you had a good guess already.

- You invited the turtle to sit on your hospital bed and after hesitating for a moment, he plopped down.

- He cleared his throat and asked you how you were feeling.

- You smiled and told him that they were giving you plenty of painkillers, Dr. Dee. It wasn't a gnarly break, so you were lucky in that regard and didn't need any heavy duty treatment.

- Donnie nodded with closed eyes and folded arms.

- He told you everyone was worried about you and you poked his bicep, telling him to tell them that you definitely weren't dying or anything.

- Donnie looked down at you and poked you in the nose, telling you that a broken arm still wasn't anything to laugh about.

- You wriggled your nose with a puff. You knew that but you also knew that you would be able to recover just fine.

- Even though Donnie didn't show it like his brothers would've, you knew he had come all this way to make sure you were getting treated properly. (Even though you certainly were).

- After his fussing, you and Donnie played a few rounds of Mario Kart on his switch while chatting. You were sure he was going easy on you because of your arm but you didn't say anything about it because well, who could ever complain about winning?

- When you wrapped up, you let him sign his name in an almost obnoxious purple that glinted neon in the dark on your cast and he told you not to break anything else.

- You laughed and replied that you didn't plan on it.

- The answer seemed to be good enough for him as he left and after the nurse came to turn out your lights for you, you laid back in your bed and stared for a long while at the glow in the dark signature on your bum arm before falling asleep.

Mikey:

- You had to shush him the moment he launched onto your hospital bed.

- He was immediately poking and prodding at you, and asking about whether or not your arm still hurt.

- You laughed softly and shook your head. You reassured him you were doing much better compared to earlier.

- Mikey was happy to hear about that, settling down a bit and sitting down.

- He asked if he could touch your cast and you gave a nod.

- He touched it very gently, wrinkling his snout at the coarse feeling texture of it under his fingertips.

- Then he looked up at your face and asked the question you knew he was probably waiting to since he got there.

- You gave another soft laugh and said yes, he could sign your cast.

- With a wide smile he whipped out some markers he was carrying with him and got work scribbling on your cast.

- You quickly got the feeling that his "signature" was going to be much more elaborate than just that.

- And you weren't wrong as he spent the better part of an hour, chatting with you as he drew.

- Truthfully, you hadn't been able to get to bed at all before Mikey dropped by and having him here was nicer than tossing and turning, waiting to fall asleep.

- Eventually, he's done and you're amazed by the graffiti style doodle now on the corner of your cast.

- Mikey beamed at the look on your face and asked you what you thought. To which you were quick to say it looked amazing.

- You ended up having a chat about art and you two did some doodling in one of your notebooks before he had to go back to the lair so you could call it a night.

- He wished you a goodnight and you promised to be over the next day to spend some time with your favorite turtles, and when you let your head rest on your pillow, sleep found you much easier than you thought it would before Mikey got there.

Raph:

- You were surprised a herd of staff didn't rush to your room as he had to all but force himself through the window and knocked over an IV pole and those little carts that held nurse supplies.

- Of course, a sweet little nurse did pop in to see if you were alright and you told her that a strong breeze must have done it all.

- She bought the story and Raph, who had ducked under your bed and raised it a good foot or two higher, crawled out.

- He asked you how you were doing and whatnot, and you waved off his worries.

- Still, he didn't seem very sated by the look on his face.

- You reached out with your good arm and gave him a pat on his. - In truth, Raph felt bad that he nor his brothers could've been there to prevent your injury; as stupid as that might sound.

- And he seemed to think you would laugh at him as he admitted that to you.

- You didn't think it sounded stupid in the slightest though. A lot of people feel that way when it comes to people they care about, you reassured him.

- You felt the same every time the turtles had altercations with the villainy lurking in New York.

- That seemed to work and you were glad to shake some worry off of Raph's big ole shoulders. He had enough of that while trying to lead the gaggle of turtle brothers.

- You patted the side of your bed and almost regretted the gesture when it groaned in agony at Raph's mass.

- You tried to laugh it off, hoping internally that the bed would turn out okay. You were just happy that it was holding up for now. But, you were surprised that Raph didn't notice the potential problem.

- You two spent a while just idly chatting and Raph recanted the brothers' recent encounter with some villains last night. You eagerly listened and enthused about it alongside the behemoth of a snapping turtle whose giddiness about things always reminded you he was truly a softie.

- After some hours, he got around to leaving once he signed your cast in big, blunt red letters and the hang out session made you feel like you really did have friends looking out for your more than you realized before.

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #rottmnt x reader #reader insert #fanfic #mywriting #headcannons #anon

[jadelynlace]

Ink Drinker / Modern Vikings AU [Ivar x F!Reader], Chapter 6

catch up here!

synopsis: Ivar was only meant to be a friend with benefits, but he caught feelings for his older brother’s best friend, and co-worker: you.

pairing: Ivar x F!Reader

***content warning [PLEASE READ]: this chapter has the after effect of the trauma call, and too many emotions. surgical mentions and medical terminology are in this chapter as well. anything in italics indicates a flash back.

author’s note: I’m so sorry.

 ~

“Floki, why can I be left alone?” Ivar asked.

“Because the last time you were left alone you ended up with fifty thousand milligrams of pain killers in your stomach. Now, come here—do you know this?” Floki replied with his fingers taping the photo copied image.

“I drew that.” Ivar said back.

“Yes, you did. Where do you want it?”

“What do you mean?” 

“You hate your body so much why don’t you cover it in something you like?” 

*

It is sixteen hours that Ivar is in surgery. His world is dark, nothing but, with pierces of noises that he can recall. But trying to decipher them only makes the surroundings dull, caked in black and muffled with a buzz of an unruly bee hive. There are pokes of pain, he remembers the green light, and he remembers the pot hole he swerved to miss. He doesn’t remember how fast he was driving and the second he was over the yellow line made no difference for the sudden beast of a truck to find him. 

Everything below Ivar’s powdered knee caps are reattached. Grueling hours on the table while he’s sewed back together like a monster. Enough time for Hvitserk to get clothes, to get you clothes, to pack a bag for his brother per your request. Even in the presence of clean laundry you can’t take your blues off yet—they’re holding you proper because you just saw Ivar that morning. You two made love in the low morning light, filled with ecstasy, his seed and then he made you eggs with extra hot sauce and hugged you tightly you were sure you stopped breathing. He told you to be safe, baby, like he did at the dawn of each shift and that he would call you when his last appointment was finished, and on his way back from shopping for supplies for the parlor and that you two would make lunch plans. In his speed, his haste to make sure he didn’t miss you before the two tone song of death would sing in the radios, he instead, became the reason it did.  

Your chief shows up when you tell him the nature of the emergency. Pulling additional personnel on for overtime and they take the rig out of service and from your hands. Words don’t spare any differences and although he offers you a hug, when you take it he slips you a piece of paper. 

“Remember the job you’re doing. And the change you’re making.” He whispers in your ear and you look at the folded sheet. It’s a photocopy of a poorly drawn fire truck with an even worse sketched stick figure, and you had scribbled it when you were five. Back when you met chief for the first time because now you hold the same badge number your father once did. 

“If I give you your Dad’s old badge number, are you going to act like a jack ass like him?”

“I can’t make any promises chief.”

“I have a partner in mind for you, you’ll like him. He’s a good kid. A good medic.”

“This good kid got a name?”

“Yeah, Hvitserk. I’ll introduce the two of you.”

This is the call that shapes you as a medic, as a provider, and changes how you see things. This is the call that sends a new person out into the street, whether Ivar lives or not. This is the call that forever holds terror in your heart because he was laying in the back of your ambulance, and that was the one spot you never wanted him to occupy. 

Aslaug walks through the doors and she’s already two tissues deep into a soggy mess. Hugging Hvitserk and hugging you and you wish you were meeting this woman for the first time under any other circumstance. Floki thanks you and you don’t quite know why, even though the words fall heavily and un-calming, he still thanks you. And when the surgeon returns before the four of you, you’re the only one that doesn’t stand. But he calls your name because you know him, he was lab staff that tested you for your certifications and he told you that you’ll make a damn good medic one day. 

“Remember what I said on the day of your exam?” He asks and you nod, puzzled and impatient looks on the other faces. “You are a damn good medic—you both are.” He adds, eyes jumping from yours to your partners. “And it shows on this call, of all of them.” Hvitserk’s shoulder nudges you and you only nudge him back, perhaps little too hard in your delirious state. “Essentially what we did, was replant the lower portion of each leg. Now, given the extent of his injuries and how his body handles such, I don’t have a clear cut answer for you on his overall mobility. He may need to have screws implanted, he may need prosthetics. He’s going to be in the ICU for the next 48 hours for constant monitoring. We’ll have him sedated so his body can focus on what’s at stake. He’ll need physical therapy for a long time, and he’ll likely be disabled for the rest of his life, given again, how his body handles this. It’ll be a long road. But, like I said—you two are damn good medics and that is the one reason his legs were able to be saved. I will let you know when he’s moved to the ICU.”

You look back at your partner and his face is as blank as yours; influx of emotions just ready to dive from the void but your minds are still churning, still processing all of what boomed from the doctor’s mouth. Ivar’s chance at returning to a normal life was resting in your hands and you two gave the best damn efforts and they worked. The countless hours of dissection, wondering if you’re cut out for this career, these responsibilities, hours of trauma and blood and vomit all fizzle away because you now know that you are. And it just took Ivar to prove it.

When your eyes open again there’s a sharp pierce in your temple, scrunching eyes together and slowly moving, your head rises from Floki’s shoulder and the lights in the ICU have dimmed in the late hour. Impressions stood between his nostrils, falling like petals over his cheekbones, bleeding through split brows and pink flowers through the depths of his neck. His chest sinking and fainting with time, there was a moment of deafening silence when you are looking at his body; seemingly so small under the contraptions. The depths of earth, and the worst hell was seeing him lay on this cot. He’s only sedated now, even though Ivar looked of death, he was still alive under the harvest of wires. The words of how “we’re doing all that we can” do not bring any more comfort, they just take Ivar like a wave rapidly back out to sea. And now you understand how your patients, and their families feel when you speak the same phrases to them. The clinical assessments do not stop a rigorous schedule, motoring for the possible failure. The room is kept warm, and every so often when you will yourself to peek in, you can see the sheen of sweat that’s over Ivar’s forehead, dancing across his chest under the stickers, the monitors. The capillary refill on his toes show promise, and when the nurse says that to her doctor, you find yourself attempting the same motions on your thumb nail. Pressing the pink away and making room for the white, and then in a quick release, the pink swarms back. The ultra sound machines reminds you of the new equipment in your rig as it assess arterial blood flow every hour.

IV bags drip, slow and agonize and the change of wrappings, dressings and cleaning of both the limbs and Ivar himself collect. You spend hours watching the fluid levels sink, his eyes flutter, his fingers in his hand dance and you grow cold because you just want to hold him. To lock him in a steel tower and to constantly remind him how strong he is, because you know the longest road will not come from learning to walk. It will come from Ivar trying to find that he is worthy to live on.

Blackness had retired across your cheeks, wrapping a veil of makeup that melted into battle scars and you could not move if your body depended on it. Aslaug sits next to you; she takes her time wiping the makeup off from under your eyes, the soiled mascara and she’s humming to you. She had been telling you how when Ivar was young, she would sing to him and it would calm him down. How she sang to him in the hospital after he tried to overdose, tubes pumping his stomach as she blamed herself for such wrong doing. How Hvitserk blamed himself because he gave no one a warning cry. And how she’s singing to Ivar now, even though he can’t hear it, because it comforts the three of you as a whole. 

When your eyes follow the nurse into the room, you can hear her say something to Ivar and you watch his head turn in confusion. Grogginess and a fog on his brain as she talks to him like it’s a normal conversation; wishing him a good morning, how the weather looks promising for a beautiful day and you wish you had that level of bed side manner. You never get the promising parts of the journey; you get the patients that are coding and in a rush to the life saving team in the hospital. You love the ones who tell you their entire live’s story in the back of the rig on the way to the emergency room, sharing details and calming your mind with how simple, and yet how different every walk of life is. The nurse says something about you, about Hvitserk and Aslaug and Floki, out and waiting and ready to see him when he’s fit. You wave through the glass and there’s the tease of a smirk on Ivar’s face, even in his slightly sedated state. A dastardly, bastard smirk and his hand lifts off the bed slightly, wiggling his fingers back to you. The tears start up again, pounding a sledge hammer through your skull after all of the unruly pressure and messes of crying as your body tries to go numb.

“Where’s my mom?” You hear Ivar say in a voice that muted slightly as the nurse stands in the door way to exit. “Can I see my mom?” And the nurse nods. Aslaug stands and kisses your hair line as she walks into the vicinity, Ivar watching her and you need to back up, you need to walk away from the room, this hall way and this battle. A faint wheeze goes through your chest and Floki catches it first before Hvitserk has a chance to lift his head and open his eyes.

“Let’s walk, dear,” Floki says and his voice is not authoritative but it still demands you to comply as he loops an arm around your shoulder. “Walking can help to clear the mind.” It’s your first time outside in almost three days, and the sunlight burns you like you had been its victim on a sand covered shoreline for one too many hours. The hospital grounds are manicured, they’re neat and arranged with an abundance of flowers and colors in the open air but everything to you still feels so dull and lifeless, pointless and hopeless and walking only churns your thoughts to double, triple in size like a snow ball rolling down a hill. 

You’re finally allowed in to see Ivar and you approach slowly, like touching him will seer you suddenly, stain you with a unremovable pattern and you’ll forever be reminded. His blue eyes are dull and groggy when they open, the nasal cannula wrapping his face and your eyes dance over the scurf collecting on his jaw, and the faint bruising, cuts and scrapes on his skin.

“Hey baby,” His voice rasps and you kneel by the bed, tears already on their journeys to streak your tried skin and Ivar’s needle poked, IV covered arm comes to wipe what he can reach. “You were there, weren’t you?” And you can only nod, eyes still damp and you relish in the touch he gives you only if it’s for a second. “You saved my life, baby,” Ivar finally adds and that makes the whimper start again, the choke of a sob in your throat and he tries to quiet you, slithering a quick noise from his lips and you rest your head against the bed, his hand still on your hair. 

“I drove the ambulance over a hundred miles an hour,” You finally say and they’re the first words you can use to process the trauma you two had lived through together.

“That’s my girl,” Ivar smiles, speaking with a voice that sounds like sandpaper.

“I love you Ivar—no matter what happens, I love you so much,”

“I love you too, Y/N,” Ivar says and his voice is weaker now and he needs rest. “Kiss me before you go?” He says with eyes scanning your face, and you can’t deny that now. Pressing your lips softly against his, your hands cupping his cheek and you hope it’s not the last kiss you’ll ever get from him. “I’m not going anywhere, baby,” Ivar tells you. “I’m afraid. But I’m not going anywhere,” You nod as he speaks, a forehead against his for a second and his hand is still trying to reach on you where he can. This is the man that would pull the tubes and the wires from his chest if he could, if that would make him get closer to you. “You’re stuck with me,” And there’s a faint snicker after his words, weak and drowned out from the normal tone but you’ll take it after not hearing his voice for three days.

“I’m stuck with you,” You say back with a small smile. But it still doesn’t bring enough hope.

Ink Drinker Tags:

@smileysam13579 @dreamtherapy @heisentwerk @angelofthenightposts @ill-skillsgard @youaremyfamiliar @unbetaedimagines @kathryn-jane @readsalot73 @skrsgardspam @lihikainanea @queen-sarang @anastasiaskarsgard @andmyannabellee @walkxthexmoon @flowers-in-your-hayr @peachyboneless @heavenly1927 @istorkyou @victoria-styles @quantumlocked310 @xbellaxcarolinax @mighty-ragnarssons @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @queen-of-upshur @nanahachikyuu @fandomlifeandeverythingelse @ivarhoegh @a5hl3y5ibley @hashimily @youbloodymadgenius @love-all-things-writing @theanxietyqueen17 @trip2themoon @tgrrose @synnersaint @kataphine

*please message me to let me know if you would like to be added or removed from my tag list. specifications for series/etc. are also welcomed, as well as feedback.*

full masterlist can be found here.

#modern vikings #vikings ivar #vikings #vikings fanfiction #modern vikings fanfiction #modern vikings au #modern vikings writing #vikings au #ivar the boneless #ivar fiction #modern ivar lothbrok #ivar lothbrok x reader #ivar lothbrok smut #ivar #ivar ragnarason #ivar ragnarsson x reader #modern ivar ragnarsson #vikings hvitserk #modern hvitserk ragnarsson #— i am i am i am. ( my writings & creations ) #— hands so bloody tastes like honey. ( ink drinker vibes ) #alex høgh andersen #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #ivar au #vikings floki #modern floki #floki the boat builder #floki

[tickly-trashcan]

Tickle Hug {YaeBaal}

A/N: m-more lesbians,,, this kinda has very mild spoilers for the archon quest like,, baal’s name and stuff but yknow... otherwise its fine. Idk much about her other than what ive been spoiled for LMAO im very behind in the story quest but all i know is shes amazing and im a huge simp for her so i hope yall enjoy lolol

Yae watched in amusement as Ei stared at the tofu on the counter. She had promised Yae that she would make her fried tofu, her favorite, as a surprise. Of course, she had ruined the surprise when she made the promise, but Yae wouldn’t spoil the fun of that for her.

“Miko, how do I fry it?”

“You need to heat up the oil and put the tofu in it.”

Ei’s brow furrowed and she pouted her lip, looking down at the tofu again as she nodded. She attempted to follow Yae’s instructions, heating up the oil and gently placing the tofu in, yelping when it burned her finger.

She waited. And waited. And waited. And soon the tofu began to smoke. 

“Does that mean it’s ready, Miko?” 

Yae chuckled amusedly. “That means it’s burning, Ei.”

Ei quickly scrambled to grab the tofu out of the pot, and when she turned it over it was completely burnt. She frowned, poking it with her chopsticks only for a little bit of it to crumble off like dust. She huffed in frustration and Yae walked up to her, wrapping her arms around Ei and placing her head on her shoulder, looking at the burnt tofu.

“Now, don’t get mad, Ei. What matters is that you tried.”

“But I promised I would surprise you!”

Yae couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped her lips as she held Ei from behind, lightly squeezing her sides to reassure her. Ei squirmed, and Yae raised an eyebrow.

“Oh? Don’t tell me…”

She lightly pinched her fingers against the Shogun’s sides, making her giggle softly as she wiggled slightly in her grip.

“Mi-Miko!” Ei gasped, giggling more when Yae scribbled her fingers across Ei’s stomach. 

“You’re still ticklish… how cute.”

“I’m nohohot!” Ei lied, and Yae only chuckled, scratching her nails lightly at the sides of Ei’s stomach as she squeaked softly, trying to contain herself. Yae climbed up to her ribs, digging in a bit more as she prodded between the grooves.

Ei leaned forward against the counter, squeezing her arms against her sides in an attempt to keep Yae’s devious fingers away from her sensitive ribs. Yae hummed as she gently worked on Ei, easily drawing out sweet laughter from the Shogun.

“Mikohoho! Heehee, not thehehere!”

Yae chuckled, relenting. Ei caught her breath and turned in Yae’s arms, revealing a pink face and a wide smile. Yae smiled back, lightly kissing Ei’s cheek, placing her hands on her hips. Ei kissed Yae, soon giggling as Yae squeezed her hips lightly.

“Mihiko!” She snickered into the kiss, still holding Yae as she giggled. Yae continued to tease Ei’s hips, the burnt tofu long forgotten as the two of them stayed in each others arms for a little while longer.

#yae miko #baal #genshin impact #tickle drabble #yaebaal #tickletober #tickletober2021

[agustdakasuga]

Between The Bloodshed | Chapter 8

Genre: Mafia!AU, Angst, Romance, Fluff

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Doctor!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Being a freelance doctor, this was just supposed to be any other job, helping a private client and taking care of him through his recovery. But you were not expecting to get caught in something so much darker that would change your life entirely.

This is your first time. The first time you see your 7 employers in action, the first time you see them as who they say they are. 

Warning: This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. It may contain depictions of violence, blood shed/ gore and mentions of abuse. Please read at your own discretion.

Chapter warning(s): Mentions of violence, blood and fighting. 

Humming a soft tune, you tucked your hands into the pockets of your lab coat as you walked. It was another boring day with the boys being out and now, it was time to head to bed.You yawned and stretched your arms but was interrupted by a loud bang. 

“DOCTOR!” 

“(y/n)!” Shouts made you run down the stairs. You ran to the sealed off wing of the house, the ‘business’ wing as you would call it. There, you saw Namjoon carrying an unconscious Hoseok. 

“Get me my emergency kit in the office.” You turned to a butler, making him run off. As Namjoon placed him down, you began to inspect his body. 

“Blow to the back of his head. The rest seem superficial.” The butler placed your first aid kit down. 

“Hobi? Can you hear me?” You clipped a blood pressure monitor to his finger and used your stethoscope to check him internally. The rest of the boys walked in, seemingly unharmed. Or at least, less gravely injured than Hoseok was.

“Is Hoseok hyung okay?” Jimin gave a small smile. 

“Seems like a concussion.” You said. Jungkook came over to help you carrying Hoseok up to your office. 

“Thanks.” You patted the maknae’s shoulder before he left. You hooked Hoseok’s up to an acetaminophen infusion with magnesium to help with pain since normal painkillers may cause him more internal bleeding. After that, you checked his head injury. Luckily, there wasn’t a need for stitches. You cleaned the blood off the wound and bandaged his head. 

“You’re okay.” You whispered, patting his forearm as you cleaned the rest of his superficial wounds and bruises. 

“I’ll be back, Hobi.” You took the rest of your things and went out to help the rest of the boys. Of course, you found them by the bar, having drinks. When you entered, everyone stared at you. 

“He’s alive. Resting.” You said first before sitting down on a bar stool, laying out the wound cleaning equipment. 

“Get in line.” You waved them over.

“We don’t-”

“Get. In. Line. Do I have to repeat myself?” You raised an eyebrow at Taehyung. He pursed his lips, looking away. One by one, the boys stepped up for you to clean their wounds. 

“Hobi got hit the worst.” Jin said. You nodded, inspecting each of them. Luckily, there didn’t seem to be any internal injuries. 

“You better not have any wounds for me to clean, Min Yoongi." You said, cleaning Jungkook’s knuckles. 

“Don’t worry, I was playing games on the sofa.” Yoongi rolled his eyes, showing you his phone screen, where his current game was ongoing. Even if Yoongi didn’t have to wear his sling anymore, he was still on a ‘no beating up people’ work order by his doctor, you. 

“Good.” You huffed.

“Is this enough action for you?” Namjoon chuckled.

“Yes, Namjoon. How kind of you to do this. The highlight of my otherwise, very boring day.” You rolled your eyes with a smile. You cleaned the cut over his eyebrow and placed the gauze down.

“Each of you take this.” 

“What’s this??” Jin asked but still took one of the white pills from your plastic medicine cup. Everyone took one except for Yoongi. 

“A little something so tomorrow won’t be a b*tch. It’ll also help all of you sleep better tonight.” You turned around to clear the bar counter of all the bloodied cotton. 

“To be taken with water.” You said with a clear of your throat, still focusing on your things. There was the sound of glasses being placed down on the table before water was poured out from the pitcher. Trust them to try and take their medicine with alcohol. You threw all the rubbish away and placed all the leftovers in your pockets. 

“Get to bed. Now. I’ll stay with Hobi tonight. Call me if you’re dying.” You ordered them and slid off the chair to stand. They watched you reach behind the counter and pour a glass of scotch whiskey. 

“Since you didn’t take the pill. This shall help you sleep.” You placed the glass in Yoongi’s hand and walked back to your office. 

“I’m back.” You announced, entering your office and checking on Hoseok. 

*KNOCK KNOCK*

“How’s he?” Someone poked his head. 

“I thought I made it clear that all of you were to head to bed?” You chuckled, tucking Hoseok in under the blanket and going to sit on your chair. The male by the door laughed. 

“Would you let me stay up if I have hot cocoa?” He raised an eyebrow. You threw your head back in laughter, waving at him to come in. Just like the other night, he placed the tray down and handed you a mug before taking one for himself and sitting down. 

“How are you? Too hectic?” He asked. 

“Nah, it’s okay. Believe it or not, being forced to intern at the emergency ward of hospitals is a lot worse than this. No downtime at all.” You shrugged. 

“I would imagine. We used to go to hospitals. But even the most private, exclusive ones ask too many questions. That’s why we decided to have a private doctor here instead.” He explained. 

“What happened to Hobi?” You asked. 

“A deal gone wrong. The people from our world don’t exactly know what patience is, especially the young ones.” He looked over at Hoseok. 

“Immature.” You crossed your arms. 

“Oh, you’ll be surprised at just how immature a lot of them can be. But I guess, that’s how gang wars start.” He smirked. You nodded your head. As adventurous as you were, being caught in a gang/ mafia war was not something you wanted to experience in the next few years of your life. You were perfectly fine with cleaning the cuts that they caused. 

“I’m going to head to bed.” He stood up once the hot cocoas were done. You nodded, placing your empty mug on the tray. 

“Goodnight.” You wished softly. 

“Goodnight, (y/n). Thanks for letting me stay up past my bedtime.” He gave a soft smile as he opened the door. But before he left, he called out to you one more time, making you lift your head. 

“Don’t... go to the other wing tomorrow, okay?” He turned his head slightly. 

“Okay.” You nodded and with another small smile, he left your office. You sighed, sliding down in your chair.

It was about 5 am when Hoseok finally stirred awake. You were used to pulling all nighters from times at the hospital and with your previous clients that you weren’t even tired. 

“W-Where am I?” He frowned slightly. You helped him sit up, pouring him a glass of water. 

“You’re in my office. Firstly, can you tell me your name and date of birth? And then, tell me if you know who I am.” You asked softly. His eyebrows furrowed for a while. 

“Jung Hoseok. Birthday is on 18th of February. You are Dr (y/n). The doctor that is working with our family and taking care of Yoongi hyung’s shoulder.” He said. You nodded your head in approval. Hoseok reached up to touch the thick bandage around his head. 

“Do you know what happened? I only remember some guy knocking me out.” He asked. 

“Well, I don’t know what happened exactly but Namjoon ran into the house with you in his arms. Then Jungkook brought you in here and you’ve been unconscious since. How’s the pain?” You asked. 

“A dull ache.” He groaned. 

“The concussion doesn’t seem too bad. But you should rest more, you can sleep here. Considering you can drink that water without wanting to throw up, I’ll remove your IV and give you some oral painkillers in a few hours.” You said, receiving the empty glass from him. Taking a pair of gloves and a bandaid out, you remove the IV needle from Hoseok’s arm. 

“There.” You taped the bandaid over the puncture hole and got rid of your gloves, the needle and empty IV bag. 

“How’s the rest?”

“All superficial injuries. You seemed to have gotten the brunt of the attack.” You said as you washed your hands. He nodded his head slowly, picking at the bandage around his forearm. 

“Stop that.” You hit his hand and he recoiled with a pout. 

“Mean.” He commented. 

“Go to bed.” You sat back down by your desk. 

“Aren’t you going to sleep?” He asked. You shrugged, typing on your computer. To refresh your knowledge, you would go through some old case files you had from time to time. Also, you felt that it was time to study up on proper treatment for bullet wounds and stabbing injuries.

“You should sleep.” Hoseok said. 

“You should sleep.” You snorted, opening your notepad to scribble something down. Even with your constant typing, Hoseok was able to fall asleep rather quickly, letting out soft snores. 

When Hoseok woke up, he saw that you fell asleep by your desk, your head bobbing up and down uncomfortably, hands still on your keyboard. 

“I told you that you should sleep.” He chuckled with a shake of his head. Hoseok left the office. 

“JK, come help me.” Hoseok called. 

“Oh, hyung. You’re awake. What’s up?” The maknae immediately stood up. Hoseok brought him to the office and pointed at your sleeping figure. Jungkook realised what his brother was trying to do and nodded. 

“She fell asleep taking care of me last night. I would carry her myself but I’m still a little dizzy. I don’t want to risk dropping her.” Hoseok whispered. Jungkook softly walked to you, slipping his arms under you and hoisting you up. You didn’t move but instead, snuggled into the warmth of Jungkook’s chest. He chuckled at your actions. 

“You should go rest some more, hyung.” Jungkook walked upstairs. Hoseok let out a hum. 

“I gotta go for the meeting though. Just bring her upstairs and tuck her in before she wakes up and kills both of us.” Hoseok sighed, patting the youngest on the shoulder and jogging off. 

“Aish, hyung. She’ll kill you for working when you’re supposed to be resting. Jungkook shook his head and opened your room door. 

“Hi, Kookie.” He whispered and placed you on the bed. You let out a small whine at the loss of warmth but was pacified by Jungkook draping your blanket over you. You cuddled your pillow, sleeping peacefully. 

“Let’s go, Kookie.” Jungkook opened the cage. Casting your sleeping form one last glance, Jungkook walked out with your bunny in his arms, closing the door softly behind him. He went down to finish his breakfast on the couch, Kookie hopping around beside him. 

“Here.” Jungkook experimentally held out an apple slice to Kookie. Kookie sniffed it with a wiggle of his nose before nibbling. 

-

Your eyes opened and you reached a hand out to feel your pillow. That made you sit up. Looking around, you realised that you were in your room. You didn’t even remember when you fell asleep. 

“Hoseok...” You slipped out of bed. Kookie’s cage was left open with the bunny missing. Stretching your arms, you went back to your office to find the bed empty. After that, you navigated through the house to find his bedroom. 

“Hoseok? Are you in there?” You knocked on it for several minutes but there was no reply. 

“Doctor.” A passing butler noticed you. 

“Hey. I was looking for Hoseok. Do you know where he is?” You asked, tucking your hands into the pockets of your coat. 

“The young masters are all attending a meeting in the other wing now. Young master Hoseok was seen with them. Young master Jungkook left Kookie in the living room with us.” He informed with a bow. You frowned, chewing your bottom lip. Hoseok knew he should be resting. Even if it was minor, he still suffered a concussion. 

“But doc-” 

“Thanks.” You gave a backwards wave, already on your way to the other wing. When you entered the foyer, it was eerily quiet. You were going to walk around when you heard a loud bang. 

“No, stop!” You heard screams. 

“You already know the consequences of causing a ruckus. Now we have your sh*t to clean.” Jin’s voice was clearly heard. 

“V?” You heard Namjoon now. Jungkook came out, dragging two people across the floor by the back of their collars. The two grunted and struggled. And following close behind them was Taehyung, with a metal bat resting on his shoulder. He chuckled. 

“Brace yourself.” He smirked. 

“Wait! We were only asked to do it, we’re not involved in this!” One of the men struggled in Jungkook’s grip. 

“You three were already involved the moment you accepted the money.” Jimin giggled, throwing another male to the ground. Yoongi just stood at the side, stoic, with his arms crossed. 

“Now, you get to watch your men suffer because of your selfishness.” Namjoon said to the first guy. He nodded at Taehyung, who stepped up. 

“No!” Taehyung swung the bat, beating down on the male. Everything suddenly went silent. There was a ringing in your ears and all you could see was the metal constantly swinging up and down. The smell of blood filled the air, making a lump form in your throat and you stomach bubble uncomfortably. It wasn’t stopping soon. 

“Me too.” Jimin smirked, stabbing the male he threw down earlier. He stood over the thrashing stranger, the knife constantly being brought down on his chest.

“See? That was all you.” Jin raised an eyebrow. 

“Here.” Yoongi tossed Hoseok a gun. Hoseok stepped forward, his confidence giving a facade that you couldn’t even tell he was injured the night before. 

“Bye~” Hoseok waved before pressing the barrel of the gun right between his eyebrows. There was a sickening bang, as blood splattered out of the back of the dead man’s head. 

“That’s enough, Tae.” Namjoon called out. At that, Taehyung stopped, stepping away from the male, who was at this point, unrecognisable. He stopped up straight, the bloodied bat in his hand. He used his sleeve to wipe the blood that managed to splatter on his cheek. That was when he met eyes with you. 

“D-D...” His eyes widened. The others were puzzled at what he was stunned by. They looked up and saw you. 

“(y/n).” That’s when your legs were finally working again. You took off, running away. You threw the doors opened and ran as fast as you could, not caring that your lungs burned. 

“(y/n)! Wait!” You heard them calling out to you. Finally, you reached your room. You made a beeline for your bathroom.

“Oh, gosh.” You bent over your toilet, hurling out your stomach’s contents. 

“Ugh.” You slumped back against the wall. Turning your head, you saw Yoongi standing there. The first thing you could grab was the scalpel in your lab coat pocket. 

“Don’t. Yoongi. Don’t come closer. I need to be alone.” You held out the blade in a threatening manner. But Yoongi didn’t seem phased at all by your threat or weapon. He grabbed your wrist, taking the blade and throwing it behind him. He suddenly tugged you forward into his embrace. Yoongi felt you tremble in his arms like a leaf. 

“Y-Your shoulder.” Was all you could say to distract yourself. 

“It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He whispered. That caused the dam to break. Sobs softly bubbled in your throat as you cried into his good shoulder. 

“You’re okay. Breathe.” He coaxed. Honestly, Yoongi wasn’t the best at comforting people. Well, at least, that was what he believed. He was chosen to come in because he was the only one not covered in blood.

“Come on.” Yoongi helped you out of the bathroom and onto your bed. 

“I’ll be okay. Just give me some time.” You placed a hand on your chest to breathe. Yoongi patiently sat with you. 

Meanwhile...

Namjoon sighed. This was too much drama in one day, alone. Changing into a new shirt, he dumped his bloodied clothes in a pile. When he stepped out of his bathroom, he saw Taehyung standing there. His hair was wet, fresh from the shower. But his eyes were red. 

“Taehyung ah.” Namjoon called out softly. 

“I’m just like him.” Taehyung’s voice cracked as his bottom lip trembled.

“No, you’re not, Tae. Stop saying that about yourself.” Namjoon said, sitting down on his bed. He patted the space beside him and Taehyung came closer. Ever since you came, Taehyung hadn’t sought Namjoon out in a while. 

“The fear she had... in her eyes. That was the fear noona had...” Taehyung mumbled. 

“I told all of you. It’ll take some time for her to get used to all this. Just give her some time. The doctor is strong, she can do it. That, I give her credit for.” Namjoon said, patting Taehyung’s head. Taehyung left Namjoon’s room. He stopped outside your door, where he heard you talking to Yoongi. He had to make sure you weren’t afraid of him. 

“Taehyung.” Jimin stood in the hallway, leaning against the wall. 

“I want to speak to her.” Taehyung frowned. 

“Are you going to tell her?” 

“I... I can’t.” Just like that, Taehyung’s resolve crumbled. On the outside, Taehyung looked tougher than Jimin. But on the inside, Taehyung still wished he was like Jimin. Jimin no longer showed an ounce of guilt. 

“Yoongi hyung is still talking to her. She’s not going to come out for a while. Why don’t you go help clean up?” Jimin suggested. 

“Okay.” Taehyung turned and left your door. He headed to the other wing, the butlers had cleared the bodies already, leaving the maids to clean the floor of blood. 

“Young master Taehyung.” They greeted. All he did was pick up his bat.

“Make sure it’s spotless.” He said and left. Going into the bathroom, Taehyung scrubbed the metal. After that, he washed the blood off his hands and under his nails. He constantly scrubbed them until the skin was raw. Even the blisters you treated the day before reopened. 

When you calmed down, you stepped out into the garden to sit under the gazebo for some fresh air, you heard footsteps approaching you. You turned around to face the person.

“I thought I told you not to go to the other wing today.” The male said with a raised eyebrow. 

“I forgot. I was just so worried about Hoseok working when he was injured, it didn’t even cross my mind.” You sighed. He took a seat opposite you. 

“And look at what happened now.” 

“I’ll be okay, not like I’m hurt or anything. It was just the initial shock.” You shrugged. And yet, the flashbacks of Taehyung beating the man and Jimin stabbing the other made you cringe. 

“We all took a while to get over it too, at first. It’ll get easier as time passes.” He comforted. 

~~

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[aster-aspera]

It’s just my skin

@badthingshappenbingo

Prompt: loss of hearing

Pairings: (platonic) jonmartim

Warnings: claustrophobia, hospitals, hearing loss

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If you liked it please reblog <3

The aftermath isn’t as quiet as Tim thought it would be.

Maybe it’s the fact that he isn’t dead even though he should be, maybe it’s the dreadful ringing in his ear, maybe it’s the way his chest is heaving in gasping breaths he can’t hear.

There’s a thousand pounds of stone pressing down on his back and somewhere far above him he can feel the ground rumble and shift. He can’t even find it in himself to worry about the whole place coming down. He wasn't planning on making it out alive either way.

He thinks he floats in and out of consciousness for a bit. Time seems to wind and stretch and loop back, only the rubble on his back and the incessant ringing to keep him company.

Something shifts eventually, a change in the air at first, the darkness becoming just a bit softer, a bit less cloying.

And then there are hands and stretchers and needles and people pulling and prodding him and over it all is still that high pitched ringing, rising higher and higher into an impossible crescendo. He thinks they ask him things, he is sure he sees their lips moving and their expectant gazes. He thinks he tries to say something, but his lips feel awkward and unwieldy.

Everything goes dark after that. A cool blessed darkness where he just floats, no stone, no rubble, no dust, just peace.

He thinks about Danny for a while, and the ritual and the burning collapse of it all and the way Sasha smiled at him every morning when he came into the archives. Then he just sleeps.

He wakes up a bit more coherent the next time. The ringing isn’t gone yet, but at least his brain doesn’t feel like it’s through different planes of dimensions at a hundred kilometres per hour anymore. At least now he can breathe without the dust clogging his lungs.

He looks around the overbright hospital room, the disconnected monitor and the IV dripping a clear fluid into his veins. There’s a bouquet of orange flowers on the bedside table. Probably from Martin, he thinks bitterly. There’s no one else who would go through the trouble.

Martin walks into his room at some point and Tim wonders why he’s here and not hovering around Jon like some lost puppy. Maybe Jon didn’t make it out of the explosion.

Something sharp and painful shoots through Tim’s chest at the thought and he does his best not to examine it too closely.

He looks up at Martin, whose lips are moving as he fusses with the flowers on the little table. Tim stares up at him uncomprehendingly, waiting for sound to come through, waiting for that unbearable ringing to resolve itself into something he can understand.

It doesn’t.

“I can’t hear,” He says, his lips forming the words, his vocal cords vibrating, but no sound comes out, not to him at least. Martin looks up at him with concern, his mouth moving in shapes that should have been familiar, had they been accompanied by the right noises.

“I can’t hear,” Tim says again. And this time, it doesn’t come out half as controlled. He can feel something very close to panic crawling it’s way up his throat and he doesn’t quite manage to swallow it down.

Martin presumably says something else, before giving up and typing something on his phone, shoving it into Tim’s hands before stalking out of the room.

Getting a doctor, stay here

Well of course he’s going to stay here, does Martin really think he’s going to wander around London when he’s just survived an explosion? He isn’t Jon.

He waits impatiently in his bed, rubbing the uncomfortably thin hospital sheets between his fingers and trying to adjust the flat pillows so he can sit up.

Eventually the doctors come in and once again, it’s back to being poked and prodded. Doctors examining his ears and brain and all the million scans they take, with Martin occasionally coming in to hover over him, bringing along coffee from the cafeteria.

In the end, the verdict is predictable. Permanent damage from his proximity to the explosion. Figures he couldn’t just walk out of that unscathed.

And most people would probably consider being permanently deaf better than being dead. Tim wasn’t too sure he agreed with them  yet.

They let him go home eventually, with a whole laundry list of instructions on how to care for himself. Tim throws the papers into a corner as soon as he gets home. He’ll be fine, he’s survived Jane Prentiss, he can survive this. And it isn’t like it matters much.

His phone buzzes to life when he sticks it into the socket, all the messages he missed streaming in at once, a tidal wave of promotional mails and push notifications. He’s half tempted to just shut it off again when he notices one text notification between all the others.

Jon

Martin had told him he was alive, of course. But something about seeing his name displayed black on white on his phone screen drives the point home in a way Martin’s scribbled notes hadn’t done. Something sharp and hot shoots through his chest and he wants desperately for it to be that familiar anger that carried him through the last few months.

But as he lets his head fall back onto the couch, he can’t quite feel it burn the same, and without its familiar warmth, he feels hollow in a way he hasn’t since Danny died.

He swipes away the message without reading it and curls up on the couch, pulling an old, dusty blanket over himself and shutting his eyes. He tries not to think too much of the darkness after the explosion, of the plaster dust swirling through the air and settling in his lungs, of the stone crushing his limbs at awkward angles.

A dark apartment isn’t much like a collapsed building but his brain doesn’t care when it brings up vivid images of his time under the rubble. Despite it all, he does eventually drift into the comforting darkness of sleep, his slumber taking the pain and weariness out of his bones for just a moment.

It’s peaceful, till he wakes up gasping from a nightmare.

His desk rattles slightly when a heavy book is dropped on it and Tim looks up in annoyance, ignoring the painful squeezing in his chest when he meets Jon’s tired, regretful eyes.

‘Learning sign’ The book proclaims and Tim feels irritation bubbling up.

“Fuck off,” He says, focusing his attention once again on his desk.

‘I know sign, I can help, or at least recommend you some classes/books’ Jon informs him through the notes app on his phone.

“I don’t need your help.”

‘I know you don’t, but I’d like to'

“Why? So you can feel better about everything that happened? You think this is going to fix it?”

‘I’m sorry Tim’

“Sorry is too late,” he bites out, shoving out of his chair roughly. He tries to move past Jon, make it out of this stifling, dusty room, get somewhere it doesn’t feel like the walls are watching him.

A rough, calloused hand shoots out, wraps around his wrist like a vice. Jon’s eyes are dark with concern and Tim feels an odd anger at the expression. How can he show so much empathy after everything that happened?

He looks at the hand wrapped around his wrist and suddenly, it’s all just too much.

The deafening ringing in his ears, this wretched place that trapped him and choked him and took his best friend from him. And Jon, eyes still hopeful, still compassionate, after Tim had blamed him and hurt him for months on end.

“Go away,” He tries to say and he doesn’t even make it to the first syllable before his voice betrays him with a choked sob. A shudder runs through him and he looks down at the wooden floor, trying to compose himself.

The grief has never felt as all consuming as it does in this moment and it chokes and burns and pulls him under all at once.

And then, there are arms around him. A familiar touch, a familiar weight, from days so long ago Tim can barely remember them. The first touch that isn’t hostile, the first comfort he has felt in so long.

And it’s all from the man he’s tried to hate for months.

His hands curl themselves tightly into Jon’s cardigan and he buries his face in his shoulder, biting back tears with all his might. It doesn’t do much good against the tidal wave of emotions sweeping through him and soon he’s shaking all over with the sobs that wrack through his body.

Jon’s hand comes up in a familiar movement, brushing through Tim’s messed up curls. It’s hesitant at first, as if Tim will yell at him again, but when he makes no motion to do so, only melting deeper into the hold, the fingers carding through his hair become surer.

There’s a rumble against his cheek as Jon says something and Tim wishes desperately he could still hear it, hear Jon’s sure and steadying voice.

He remembers when, near the beginning of it all, he would stand in the corridor outside of Jon’s office and listen as his voice drifted through the halls, all the pain and fear and emotions painted so clearly on it. He’d always thought Jon a bit ridiculous for the way he read those statements. Now he just wished he could hear it one more time.

He closes his eyes as the loss of his family and his friend and even his hearing tear through his chest, leaving him shattered and shaking.

Jon’s chest rumbles again and Tim presses his cheek into it, pretending for just a moment he can hear a sound that isn’t the awful ringing.

Another pair of hands close around him, softer ones, broader ones. They pull him up gently and he’s not entirely sure how they both ended up on the floor, it probably has something to do with how broad he is and how skinny Jon is.

He’s pulled close against a soft, broad chest and relaxes into it almost immediately. Martin’s safe, he always has been.

He’s deposited gently on the cot, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a warm mug of tea pressed into his hands. He feels a bit like a child, being coddled and carted around. But right now, he can’t find it in himself to care.

He thinks Jon and Martin are saying stuff. Martin’s chest is rumbling against his back and he tilts his face so he can feel it better. Martin runs a comforting hand along his face, brushing away the tears that stick to it.

A hand settles on his knee, comforting and grounding and he’s sure it’s Jon’s. Both of Martin’s hands are occupied holding him together after all.

He closes his eyes. He can deal with the mess of it all tomorrow.

Right now, he just feels safe. His friends are here and that’s enough.

#tma #the magnus archives #magnuspod #tim stoker #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jontim #jonmartim #martim #jonmartin #i do not know how to tag for this fandom yet #anyway tell me if i missed any warnings #bad things happen bingo #my writing

[professional-dikut]

ooh ooh a request? tech/crosshair, crosshair being supportive of tech's interest tangents and making sure he takes care of himself when he gets too invested and distracted with work? idk how to write requests lol. ps. i read your latest echo/cross one and it was freaking amazing wow so fluff much angst yes comfort :)))

Ahhhh so sorry this took so long! I love this idea sm and i had many plans for this req so i hope you enjoy! (Fic under cut⬇️)

Word Count: 2673

TW: minor bad eating habits?

"Ouch!"

Crosshair snapped his eyes up towards a muffled hiss from Tech.

The man was sitting at his small work table, shaking his right hand around as sparks began to die down on a small bundle of wires in front of him. He had a stylus between his teeth and there was a tiny pair of pliers in his left hand. His leg bounced and his eyes darted back and fourth between the flimsy next to him and the bundle of wires.

Crosshair raised an eyebrow and swung his legs off his bunk to rest his feet on the ground.

Tech grumbled some incoherent curses before snatching the stylus out of his mouth and jamming down a few messy scribbles onto the flimsy.

Hunter had randomly decided to head down to the training facilities for a few hours, and Wrecker and Echo were in the cafeteria having some late night snacks. Crosshair had grabbed a snack on the way back from their simulator course earlier, though he hadnt eaten since lunch. So He and Tech were left in the barracks to do their own thing for a while until they decided to sleep.

Slowly, he pulled a leg up to his chest as he watched Tech move.

His hands flew across the pieces and parts that only he understood. His eyebrows were furrowed in the way they always were when he was deep in thought, and his eyes were zeroed in on what was in front of him and nothing else. His leg continued to bounce up and down while he twirled the stylus in his hand.

Crosshair smirked.

He stood up, quietly, and began to make his way around and over to Tech's table.

Tech muttered something and scribbled down some more notes, readjusting the bundle of wires.

The sniper slowly pulled a stool around to sit across from Tech, making as little noise as possible.

Tech didnt look up. His eyes stayed narrowed on his project, hyper focused on the goal in front of him. He picked at a few of the wires with the pliers, before twisting some together into a pattern.

Crosshair watched and got comfortable in the stool, crossing his arms and resting a leg on one of the bars around the middle of it.

Still twisting and pulling the wires into a weird pattern, Tech glanced aside to look at a black panel with some buttons and screens on it. He looked back and fourth between the wires he was still messing with, and the panel, as if he was deciding which one he should focus on. The wires were starting to look less jumbled as he wove them together, and he chewed his lip before switching to only one hand on the wires.

Crosshair's eyes widened, watching as Tech worked the wires with one hand, as the other fiddled with the panel.

His right hand moved—somehow—still weaving the wires together in a perfect pattern. It was slower than both hands, of course, but it seemed to be working and he hadn't messed up yet. Crosshair watched with a mixture of confusion and curiosity.

The panel had lit up at some point and was blinking in a few spots. Tech put a small screwdriver between his teeth as he tapped at the panel. Every few seconds, he'd grab the screwdriver and poke around the buttons, causing tiny colorful sparks that reflected in his goggles.

Eventually, the wires came together into one part, and Tech pinned the ends together with small ties. Pulling the panel towards him, he flipped it over and set the wires aside as he opened a small flap in the back of the panel.

He poked around in the small flap a bit with the screwdriver before grabbing the wires again.

Crosshair watched while Techs eyes narrowed and squinted at the wires, as he slowly placed them into the panel. Sparks jumped around his fingers as he attached the wires from the top and bottom, allowing them to sear together by them selves. Every few minutes a hand would fly up to readjust his goggles.

Shaking his head, Crosshair tried to suppress a grin as Tech finished up his project, swatting sparks away here and there.

"What is it?" Crosshair asked quietly, finding an opening where Tech wasnt as focused.

He waited a minute or two as Tech caught up to the question while putting things back together and into their original places.

"It is..." Tech mumbled, stuffing screws and tools into small containers and pouches.

Crosshair watched, waiting with patience as Tech finally gave a satisfied sigh.

"A power calibrator that I constructed to connect into the rear nose cannons." Tech began to say all at once. Crosshair listened intently. "It will allow more power to be transferred to the shields while the rear cannon is being fired, so that way we can do both at once without losing one mid-battle."

Crosshair squinted. It was actually genius. Half the time during missions, their shields would fail while firing the rear cannons due to the power usage. Though they had more power in the firing, the Marauder almost always got a pretty good beating if they used the cannons for to long.

"What wires did you use?" Crosshair asked, scooting his stool closer the table so that he could rest an arm in it.

"Twinaxial cables, acutally." Tech said spinning around in his own stool to toss something onto his bunk. "They're a variant of the coaxial cables, and have more than one conductor. They are good for short-range and high-speed power signals so they'll work well for what I'm using them for."

Crosshair nodded. He knew most of what Tech was talking about, and tried to understand what he didn't. Tech would usually explain if he was confused, but at the moment, he was pretty educated on what he was talking about.

"Great idea, Tech." Crosshair praised. Now that he had a quick opening, he could do their little routine that they always went through around these times.

"What did you have for lunch?"

Tech shut a drawer and froze.

Slowly, he turned in his stool to face the sniper with a look of deep thought on his face. He furrowed his eyebrows and rested his hand on his chin as Crosshair waited. Slowly, Tech conjured up an answer.

"It was a..." Tech began, tapping a finget on his chin. "A ration bar, I believe."

Crosshair raised an eyebrow and turned his head to the side.

"You had one for breakfast." He implied quietly.

Tech blinked and looked down at his hands.

"It's possible Ive had two, today." Said Tech, picking at his gloved hands.

"Any real food?" Cross asked.

A defeated look rested onto Tech’s face and he readjusted his goggles.

"Water?" He asked again.

Tech stared.

Crosshair sighed and turned in his seat, glancing at the snack next to his bed that he'd grabbed from the cafeteria earlier. He hadn't been hungry much then, but he did plan on eating it. He was pretty sure there was some soup, maybe a biscuit or two and possibly some meat.

He hopped out of his stool and Tech looked up in surprise.

Stalking over to his bunk, he grabbed the biscuits and a small thermal of soup. The meat was in a foil like bag and had a jerky texture and taste that Tech always liked, even since they were cadets. Cross took the bag and tossed it on his bed, poking around for any spoons or silverware. When he didnt find any, he shrugged and popped open the little thermal.

Crosshair caught Techs look of confusion as he spun around to sit down in his bunk, taking a whiff of the soup.

It smelled good, and it was still somewhat warm. If he didn't eat it soon, it would get cold in the next thirty minutes or so. He took a sip from the thermal and sighed as the warm liquid trickled into his belly and the bland taste settled on his tongue.

He looked up.

Tech frowned as he pulled his second glove off, the first one already on the table. His head was hung low and his eyebrows were still furrowed like he was thinking hard about something. His lips parted slightly as if he was going to say something, but he shut his mouth and froze as he looked up.

"Come here." Crosshair spoke, patting the spot next to him on his bunk.

Tech blinked and rested his hands on each other.

"The soup is gonna get cold." He spoke again, nodding to the thermal before taking another sip.

Tech looked at the soup, and then back up at Crosshair before scrambling out of his stool and padding over to the spot next to him on the bunk.

Cross leaned back to get the jerky/meat stuff as Tech got comfortable, pulling a leg up to his chest and turning towards the sniper.

Techs eyes lit up behind his goggles as Crosshair opened the bad of jerky, and quickly grabbed for a piece.

Crosshair caught his hand and swatted it away as Tech gave him an offended look.

"Excuse me?" Tech frowned, trying to maneuver around Cross's hand.

"Water first." The sniper said, shrugging and pulling the bag away from Tech and taking a bite of the jerky himself.

"Ugh." Tech grumbled and stood to stalk over to his own bunk, grabbing a flask of water that he took a few angry sips of on the way back.

"There."

Crosshair smirked as Tech plopped back down and snatched a piece of jerky out of the bag, taking a bite with a small smile on his face.

Cross handed Tech the thermal so he could open the small plastic container that had three biscuits in it. He peeled the plastic seal top off and took one if the biscuits out. They were a little deformed, and kind of stale and soggy at the same time, but thats what they got; And truthfully, they didn't really care.

Tech went between the thermal and the jerky, starting to realize how hungry he really was.

Cross handed him one if the biscuits and he took it happily, taking a bite and washing it down with some water from his flask.

"When's the last time you slept?" Crosshair asked randomly while Tech chewed.

Tech looked up up in thought and shoved another piece of jerky in his mouth. Crosshair sighed and moved the bag of jerky away for a second so Tech could finish chewing and not choke. He narrowed his eyes behind his goggles and stared at Crosshair as he took another sip of the soup.

"I woke up at five-hundred thirty like always." Tech said, wiping his mouth and shrugging.

Cross cocked an eyebrow at him. It was already nearing close to twenty-hundred, so Tech had been awake for longer than twelve hours at the least. He sighed again.

"Okay, what time did you go to sleep last night?" Crosshair asked.

"Around the time when I finished fixing Wrecker's blaster." Tech answered easily, looking around Cross for the bag of jerky.

The sniper was pretty sure he had fallen asleep before Tech finished up on Wreckers blaster. The amount of time spent fixing them depended in the damage, and depending on Wrecker, the damage was usually pretty major. Cross had fallen asleep at around twenty-four hundred, and Tech had only started working on the blaster a little bit before that.

"And when did you finish that." Crosshair questioned.

"Around four-hundred thir-"

Tech stopped, thermal tipped halfway towards his mouth.

Crosshairs eyes widened and the crease deepened between his brows.

"I meant-"

"No," Crosshair cut Tech off, turning to face him more. "You got an hour of sleep?!"

"Well, more like forty five minutes because it takes me a while to fall asleep sometimes." Tech said simply and then winced as Crosshair let his jaw drop.

"You need to sleep." Crosshair stated, closing the bag of jerky and standing.

"Wait," Tech whined, reaching after the bag of jerky. "Im not tired yet."

Crosshair tossed the bag of jerky onto the little work table and whipped back around towards Tech.

"Yes you are." The sniper said, looking pointedly at the bags under Techs eyes that he tried to hid behind his goggles.

"But-"

"Finish your soup, then you are sleeping."

Crosshair raised an eyebrow as Tech began to protest again, but wearily sipped the last of the soup and took the last bite of the biscuit.

Soon, Tech was out of his armor and in his blacks, pouting around as Crosshair nudged him towards his bunk. He had also gotten out of his armor, as encouragement to Tech so that he didn't feel like Crosshair was prodding too much or being too bossy. Even as cadets, Tech was never one for normal sleep; he loved to use the late hours of the night to get things done.

Crosshair paused as he looked at Techs bed.

"Well no wonder you don't sleep." Cross muttered, poking at cords and wires that were hanging from the ceiling of the bunk.

"They are projects." Tech argued, sliding a box away and onto the floor.

"I see that." Crosshair said and scanned the writing on the walls.

Tech yawned, and Crosshair found himself yawning too. He didn't feel too tired, but he didn't sleep well these days.

They usually didn't.

Tech gave a tired sigh before climbing into his bunk, and grabbing for the thin blanket.

"Are you- Oh." Tech stuttered in surprise as Crosshair climbed in after him.

The sniper wrapped an arm around Tech's waist and pulled him close as he tugged the blanket over the two of them. Tech wriggled around and tried to get comfortable under the blanket as Crosshair reached up to the light switch on the wall of the bunk. A wave of sleepiness surged over Cross as the lights slowly dimmed, until the only light was the faint glow of Tipoca City outside of the large wide window.

"You need to start getting better sleep," Crosshair started, closing his eyes as Tech scooted closer to him. "You're gonna stunt your growth."

Tech snorted and nuzzled farther into the snipers chest.

"Right." Tech whispered and yawned again.

Rain pattered against the window, and Crosshair could never tell if it was gentle or not. He'd gotten used to the ever present rain of Kamino, and wasn't sure there was such thing as gentle rain on the ocean planet. It was cool growing up, but it got old eventually.

"Do you remember when we went off-planet for the first time?" Crosshair asked randomly.

Tech pulled his head away from Cross's chest to look up at him with a confused face.

"Remember how fascinated you were by the karking grass." He said, grinning down at Tech.

Tech laughed and buried his face into the pillow, shaking his head a little.

"I thought it was so interesting." Tech said, voice muffled by the pillow.

He looked up at Crosshair and smiled sadly.

"It's so colorful." He sighed, resting his head next to Crosshair’s.

"I know." Cross whispered, pressing a kiss to Tech's forehead and nosing his dark curls as he closed his eyes.

Tech was out quick, snoring softly next to him within minutes. Crosshair smiled, a real smile, and gently pulled Tech’s goggles off. His eyes were tired, but his breathing was steady and his body was relaxed.

He looked so peaceful. So different from his constant state of either jumping around from project to project and rambling about different information and facts—or hyper focused and oblivious to everything around him. It was rare to have time like this with Tech.

Crosshair appreciated Tech.

He loved Tech.

He let that settle proudly in his thoughts as he slowly began to drift to sleep too.

#arrhegshshdhehe i loved writing this #so sorry it so long #im visiting florida and elsa is scary #anyways #hope you enjoy these cuties!!! #cloneshipping #clonecest #the bad batch #tech #crosshair #tech x crosshair #crosshair x tech #crosstech #crosshair/tech #tech/crosshair #fanfic #request

[magnoliasinbloom]

Lie To Me - 14

AO3 :: Previously

“Here’s the x-ray, doctor. Fractures to both fingers, lacerations, bruising...”

Jamie is detached quite a bit due to the painkillers he’s been given, but lucid enough to understand the doctors speaking around him. He lies very still while they poke and prod at his mangled hand. All he can think of is that he is glad Claire is not there to see him like this, and how he could possibly face her now. Despite the debilitating pain, his uncles’ words stand out clearly in his mind, and the need to keep Claire safe supersedes anything else.

After deliberating for a bit, the orthopedic surgeon on call decides he will need surgery due to the instability of the fractures. Everything that follows he captures through a filmy haze: he is stripped down and carefully attired in a hospital gown. He floats in and out while they set up an IV and pump him full of sedatives to prepare for a general anesthetic. As he is being wheeled into an operating room, Jamie thinks he glimpses a sleek red braid and Geillis’s face, but he can’t be sure.

X-x-X

Jamie thinks it’s Claire’s face, with its warm honey eyes, that appears in front of him. His hand aches something fierce despite the medication, and when he comes to a little bit more clearly, he can see it’s blonde hair, not brown curls, and serious grey eyes, not the golden hue he was expecting.

“I’m yer emergency contact?” Laoghaire.

Jamie struggles to connect his thoughts. “I—maybe. I canna think just now.”

Her eyes travel over the contoured foam support that holds his hand up from the bed. “The doctors said ye caught yer hand in the car door.”

“That’s close enough to the truth.” Jamie closes his eyes, remembering the glint of the hammer in the light of his uncles’ office.

“Oh, Jamie.” Laoghaire pulls the plastic hospital chair closer to his bed, and smooths his hair from his face. “Was it Dougal?” she asks softly, worried.

What’s a few more scars, he suddenly recalls his uncle saying in the car.

“I want to be free of them. Don’t ye?” Jamie asks tiredly.

“Yes, o’ course, but not at the expense of yer life!” Laoghaire takes Jamie’s uninjured hand gently. “We may not have wed under ideal circumstances—”

“Ye mean, not lovin’ each other.”

“Aye, that, but that doesna mean I dinna care what happens to ye.”

“Either way, a leannan, it will be over soon.” Laoghaire frowns at Jamie’s words, but doesn’t elaborate further.

“I can imagine what our uncles said to ye, and I know very well what it was about.” She hesitates. “I wanted to ask ye about something that might help distract the MacKenzie for a bit, or it might bring them down harder on us.”

“What is it?”

“Joseph and I are leaving Scotland. We want to move to America.”

Jamie is a bit shocked. Laoghaire knows as well as he does that she will indubitably draw on their uncles’ ire, but it’s a chance to get away, and find some happiness that’s not tainted by crime and death.

“Laoghaire, I—what can I say? It’s yer choice to make. I… understand, but…” Jamie’s thoughts are getting fuzzy, between the heavy medication and the gravity of the conversation.

“What do ye mean, it will be over soon?”

“I canna tell ye. But it could be good for us. For everyone.”

Laoghaire frowns again, and nods. They stare at each other and when her gaze shifts to his bandaged hand in the elevated contraption she seems to make her decision. Laoghaire stands from the uncomfortable chair and gathers her coat and purse. It seems she had been there for a while, waiting for him to wake up from the surgery. She turns to look at him before opening the door, her eyes worried but determined.

“We’ll be gone in two days. If ye need me to come back, for the courts or anything… I’ll do whatever ye need me to, Jamie, to protect the both of us. Isn’t it a matter of time before something like… this, happens to Joseph too, or myself? I want to fight for the same things ye are.” Laoghaire pauses, then walks quickly towards him and kisses him gently on the forehead. “I’m happy that ye’ve found someone too, love. I think…” New determination is visible in her eyes, and she roots around in her purse and draws a set of keys, an old Waitrose receipt, and a pen. “This is to Joseph’s grandmother’s old flat. If ye want, ye can use it.” She scribbles down an address and tucks it under the phone next to the bed.

Moving back to the door, she opens it and waiting on the other side is a fiery redhead—Geillis.

“And ye are the wife, I presume?” Geillis adopts a defensive stance, arms crossed, ready to beat someone down. Jamie can attest to the strength she packs in a slap.

“I am, but I’m leaving. Are ye her? Didn’t think he’d go for a redhead, but then again, I dinna think blondes are his thing either,” Laoghaire says with a laugh that evidently confuses and disarms Geillis.

“Oh, no, I’m—a friend of Claire’s, also a doctor. Just here to check up on the wee fox cub, ye ken.”

“Well, I’m sure I appreciate all ye can do for Jamie as he recovers. Give Claire my best, and I wish you both well.” With a quick wave to Jamie and a wink, Laoghaire vanishes, heels clicking down the hall. Jamie feels a tug in his chest; he hopes she will find peace and happiness—and safety.

Blinking rapidly, he focuses on Geillis, arms still crossed. “Did ye call Claire?”

“Not yet. I wanted to wait until ye came out of surgery so she needn’t worry.”

“I dinna suppose I can convince ye not to tell her?”

Geillis raises an eyebrow. “More lies, Fraser?”

Jamie sighs. “How much longer will I be in hospital?”

“Ye were lucky, as far as these things go. I looked at yer chart, and Dr. Rawlings did a braw job. It wasna as bad as he’d feared, but he did pin some bones with small wires, put in a plate and a few screws.” Jamie winces and Geillis frowns. “What really happened, man?”

“How much has Claire told ye about my—about my story, the truth?”

“Not much. She’s quite cryptic, like ye.” She approaches the bed, checking the IV line and the brace on his arm. “Not a car door, then.”

“No, but let’s leave it at that. Geillis, would ye do me a favor?” Jamie tries to sit up further, but Geillis pushes him back gently, arranging the pillows behind his back instead.

“If I can. After I call Claire,” she says pointedly. “And now that yer wife’s gone, who will look after ye at home? We canna discharge ye if—”

“That’s just it.” Jamie closes his eyes, suddenly bone tired. “There’s a paper with an address just—d’ye see it? Would ye call Claire, tell her to pack a bag, and convince her to move there for a few days?”

#outlander #outlander fanfic #jamie and claire #ltm14 #L's not a bitch #she's really not

[fragmentedink-archived]

Hell to Pay: Chapter Fifty-Five

I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, IX, IX, XX, XXI, XXII, XXIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII, XVIII, XVIIII, XXX, XXXI, XXXII, XXXIII, XXXIV, XXXV, XXXVI, XXXVII, XXXVIII, XXXIX, XL, XLI, XLII, XLIII, XLIV, XLV, XLVI, XLVII, XLVIII, XLIX, XLX, LI, LII, LIII, LIV

cowritten by @lux-scriptum​

Sorin hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but when he stirred the next morning, Cyrus was still breathing, even if he was still very much unconscious. Sorin checked that very carefully, resting his paws on Cyrus’ chest and sniffing at the witches face until he felt Cyrus’ breaths ruffle his whiskers. Satisfied with how steady they were, Sorin dropped to the floor silently and padded into the kitchen.

Cameron was already up, or maybe he’d never gone to bed. He was currently cooking, and he even had coffee going in the correct coffee maker. Sorin padded closer, tail tip twitching. He propped himself up, poking his head above the counter. Being the size of a large dog, he didn’t need to do much to see what Cameron was cooking: bacon and eggs and judging by the smell coming from the oven, biscuits too.

“Shift back,” Cameron said.

Sorin’s ears flattened, but he did so, taking a step back from Cameron now that he had two legs and a pair of hands. Rather than snipping at Cameron, Sorin pulled down a couple of mugs. “How is Darius?” he asked.

Cameron flicked his eyes in Sorin’s direction before sliding back to the bacon he was currently focusing on. “He’s sleeping,” he said, after several heartbeats. “I’ll need to make more food that he can eat, if Lev was anything to go by.”

Sorin lifted a brow. “Well feel free to use our kitchen,” he responded dryly.

Cameron just put a plate in Sorin’s hands before promptly returning to his cooking. Dismissing him.

Sorin set the plate down, looking back at the bedroom. “If he needs easier food, we’ve got everything to make chicken noodle soup. The chicken is in the freezer.”

Cameron nodded tersely. “Thank you,” he said, stiffly.

Sorin nodded, and then paused, picking up on movement in the bedroom. He padded away , and all but threw himself on Cyrus as soon as he realized the witch was pushing himself upright.

“Ow,” Cyrus muttered.

Sorin hugged him, before he pulled back. “Hey. You’re okay?”

Cyrus nodded. “Yeah, just tired.” He reached over, ruffling Sorin’s curls. “No magic, though.”

As Sorin watched, Cyrus rubbed his face with shaking hands. “No magic?”

“Cant feel any,” Cyrus muttered. “I expect that was the price Asmi mentioned.”

“Cameron is making breakfast.” Sorin fluffed Cyrus’ pillows. “You feel up to eating?”

“Yeah, just help me up,” Cyrus said.

“Oh, no, I meant-”

Cyrus leveled him a patient look. Sorin shut up and helped Cyrus to his feet. When Sorin settled Cyrus at the table, Cameron placed a plate in front of him too.

“I told Cameron that he could use our kitchen to make Darius soup.”

Cyrus gave Cameron a long look, and then gave a very convinced, “Hm.”

“Glad to see you’re still alive,” Cameron said with a straight face.

“Are you and Darius staying here?” Cyrus asked.

“We’ll be gone within the next few hours,” Cameron replied.

Cyrus took a few bites, likely just so Sorin would stop glaring at him, and then waved a hand to shoo him away, even when Sorin huffed at him. “Is he awake?” Cyrus asked.

“Not yet,” Cameron said, finishing up the food he was preparing, likely for Darius. “I’ll let him sleep for a bit yet. I imagine he’s feeling a bit drained. Until then, I will leave this in your refrigerator to eat when he wakes.”

Cyrus dipped his head. “Of course,” Cyrus said. “I would like to talk to him before you leave, if he’s up for it.”

“I will make sure he knows,” Cameron said. “Do you need anything else from me?”

“No,” Cyrus promised. “I’m sure I’ll nap for a good several days once you’ve left, but that can wait.’

“Alright,” Cameron said. “Then I’ll excuse myself while you eat.”

Cameron went to wash his hands carefully before disappearing back through the house, likely to Darius’ room.

Sorin watched Cyrus until he was sure that his witch had eaten his fill, and then scooped him up. Cyrus might have an inch on him, but Sorin had demonic strength to help. Once he was sure Cyrus was tucked into bed, he ducked back into the kitchen to start cleaning. And maybe get himself a cup of coffee.

---

Cameron quietly slipped into Darius’ bedroom and shut the door behind him. Darius’s eyes were closed, making his face smooth and serene in his sleep. That particular look, that expression, that face had been buried so deeply into his subconscious, Cameron hadn’t let himself think of Darius not even once since after the punishment bestowed onto him by his brother and the horde of demons under his thumb.

Cameron moved to sit on the chair he had placed next to the bed; as close as he could get without disturbing Darius in his sleep. Cameron laced his fingers in his hair and heaved a quiet, low sigh, dragging more weariness from his chest.

Even if he could go back and do it again, if he was left alone to be beaten and fucked to the point of blood and pain and blackout, Cameron would have made the exact same decision and received the exact same punishment without any regret.

Cameron closed his eyes and breathed for two heartbeats before carefully brushing his fingers along Darius’ folded hands. Warmth was still leeched away, unsurprisingly, but they were still soft as they had always been.

He tracked every rise and fall of Darius’ chest, even through the tightness in his throat. He tried swallowing it down, trying to force it down. Even though it didn’t budge. It was almost as if the last five hundred years of very carefully placed glass started splintering around him and he couldn’t cement them all back together- couldn’t refortify them.

He hastily wiped away any wetness from his cheeks and scrubbed his face, only to be met with a very cool hand on his.

Cameron’s head snapped up and he almost pulled back, but Darius was already latched on, weakly, but latching on nonetheless. Cameron forced himself to look up from the delicate brown hands in his pale ones to the gold, concerned eyes staring at him.

“You should be asleep,” Cameron said, ignoring the tightness in his voice. He cleared his throat, or at least tried. “You need to be resting.”

Darius gave him a faintly amused look that suggested he was well arrested enough as he brushed his thumb across Cameron’s cheek.

He pulled back only to grab the stick-it notes from the night stand to scribble, 'You should try it sometime, my Cameron.'

Cameron’s nose wrinkled, but that didn’t stop him from trying to blink away more tears. Darius cocked his head and wrote, 'When was the last time you slept?'

“I’ve been busy.”

'Busy taking care of everyone besides yourself,' Darius retorted.

Cameron was too exhausted to roll his eyes and slumped forward against his will. Darius running his fingers through Cameron’s hair made his throat close up even tighter. More tears shed than he cared for, but he wasn’t able to stop them.

Darius pressed his lips to the top of Cameron’s hair, inhaling deeply. He heard the stick-it notes be moved to the bed. After a heartbeat, and then one more, Darius' voice could hardly be made out. “I forgive you.”

---

Cyrus waited until Cameron was off packing the car (with what, Cyrus wasn't sure, but he suspected it was a ploy to get out of the house for a moment) before he snuck into Darius’ room. He meant to stand and talk to him, but as soon as he made it to the room he flopped down beside Darius.

“Nice to talk to you without relying on magic,” Cyrus said, eyes sliding shut despite himself.

Darius scribbled a 'You as well.' On his pad of paper.

“You’ll have to get my phone number when Cameron gets you a phone. I doubt I’ll be allowed to visit any time soon. I’m pretty sure I’ve been barred from demonic territories. Understandably so.”

Darius nodded thoughtfully. 'Of course. I’m sure I can have Cameron bring me to you if needed. Maybe this time there will be less black magic and a little more black tea?’

Cyrus smiled. “I’d like that,” he said tiredly.

Darius returned his smile. ‘You should rest.’

“I should,” Cyrus agreed. “But you are my guest.”

‘I will be out of your hair soon.’

“You’re not a problem,” Cyrus assured him.

Darius looked rather amused with Cyrus’ sentiment, but his eyes flicked to the doorway where Cameron appeared moments later. “I’m finished packing the car,” Cameron said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’ve already wired money to your account for your troubles.” He turned his focus to Darius. “I’m ready when you are.”

“You don’t have to pay me,” Cyrus said.

Cameron looked at him as if Cyrus were a pest that needed swatting. “And yet I already have,” he said, dismissively. “Put it in charity and I’ll double it. Besides, I’m sure you’ll be looking for a new place to live soon since you’re exiled from Razya.”

Cyrus sighed, looking over at Darius instead. “Good luck, going home with him,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll need it.”

Eyes crinkling, Darius’ warm smile returned, more amused than anything else.

---

Lev was the closest, so he trotted tiredly to open the front door when he heard someone knock. He was quite surprised to see Cameron carrying Darius. Lev skittered back automatically, even as a smile broke across his face.

“Darius!” He switched his gaze to Cameron. “You’re home.”

Darius waved at him, but Cameron had already started down the hall, presumably to the bedroom. “Is the kitchen clean?”

“Is the- oh!” Lev scampered after him, eyes wide. “Yeah. Yes. I went over it twice once Nik was done cooking. There’s even some leftovers in the fridge for you too.”

“Good.”

Lev scrambled to open the bedroom doors once they reached their destination. He watched Cameron hesitate, ever so slightly, before walking in and gently placing Darius on the made bed. “I will be taking residence in one of the other bedrooms, as this one already belonged to Darius. You and Nik will also sleep elsewhere- in your rooms, if you wish.” Cameron very pointedly didn’t look at Darius as he said any of this. “Is the loud-mouth still here?”

“Nik?” Lev asked, in confusion, before, “-Oh. Ash?”

Cameron gave him an irritable-yet-patient look.

“Yes, Ash is here. And Celeste and Dakota. I’ve been trying to help Celeste.” He hesitated, “And keep an eye on Nik. He’s been in a mood.”

Cameron sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “When isn’t he in a mood,” he muttered. “Will you go find him before he cracks his head open on the way here?”

Lev ducked around him, surprised to find Cameron let him as he threw his arms around Darius as gently as he could. When he breathed deep, the scent of cinnamon and sunlight was mixed with the faintest, almost familiar scent of death. “I’ve missed you,” Lev promised, pulling back.

For just a moment, Darius pulled him back enough to hug him a little tighter. When he let Lev go, there was a small smile on his face. Lev squeezed his hand, and then turned around.

“I’ll go get Nik,” he promised Cameron, lingering long enough to almost touch Cameron’s hand.

“I said Ash,” Cameron said.

“You-?” Lev frowned, pulling back. “Oh. Sorry?” He backed out of the bedroom.

Ash was sitting in the makeshift nursery they’d set up for Dakota, holding the infant. Celeste was reading in a chair nearby, but she looked up when Lev came in the room.

“Is everything okay, Levant?” Celeste asked.

“Yeah,” Lev said, watching Ash angle his head in Lev’s direction. “Cameron’s home. He wanted to see Ash.”

“Well it’s not like I can see Cameron,” Ash retorted, but glowered once Celeste cut him a look. “Stop looking at me like that. I know you’re looking at me, Celeste,” he said, irritably.

“Then stop giving me a reason to look at you like that,” She replied, getting up to take the sleeping babe from Ash’s arms. “He’ll go with you.”

Ash got to his feet and started in Lev’s direction. Lev hesitantly took Ash’s arm, avoiding Ash’s russet gaze even if he couldn’t see anything. The walk back was a very quiet one. The silence was particularly pointed, and Lev was not willing to break it.

Cameron was seated on the edge of the bed by the time they got back. Darius had laced his fingers with Cameron, and didn’t seem inclined to let go. “He’s on the bed,” Lev said to Ash.

Ash focused his attention in that direction. “Well? What did you want?”

“Are you able to do your healer thing or are you only as good as your magic?” Cameron asked, ignoring the cutting look Darius gave him. “If you are, I can have Lev retrieve Sazra.”

Anger and embarrassment warped Ash’s features. “Not without my equipment I can’t. I’m about as useful as a human, no thanks to you.” Darius looked pained, but Ash seemed unfazed.

“I can go get Sazra and see if she has equipment you can borrow,” Lev offered.

Ash pulled away from him. “Oh you go do that.”

Lev winced, but went trotting off again, stifling his sigh. It seemed like everyone was in a mood today. Sazra certainly wouldn’t be pleased to see him; she never was.

Her striking silver eyes pinned him in place the moment he stepped into her workspace. As always, he tried not to be unnerved by the lack of pupils, and instead took a small breath. “Um. Cameron sent me? He, uh- Ash? Needs to borrow some equipment? Darius- Cam brought Darius home. And- um. Please?”

Sazra pulled out from her desk. “I’m not too sure what that blind fool can do with my supplies and I do not feel like letting him try, either.” She grabbed a few supplies. “I will come myself, as he is a demon. Your angel can focus on being useful for someone else.”

Lev nodded quickly. “O-oh okay,” he said. “Can I help,” he added automatically. He flushed, and added, “Carrying things or, um, anything?”

She gave him a very long assessing look before holding out her supplies. “Don’t ruin any of these,” she warned. “They’re older than you.”

“Yes ma’am,” Lev said, cradling them close.

When she swept out of the room, Lev scuttled after her, keeping a respectful distance between them. If it seemed like she hesitated before leaving her basement rooms, well surely Lev imagined it.

---

Raziel knew better than to leave her wings out; or at least, it was an old instinct she had yet to curb. In the demons’ castle, it’d never been a good idea to flaunt that she was an angel.

Still, she was here on official business; this meeting had been set almost a year ago, now. If she was the type to think so, she would have thought Biela had set it so far in the future on purpose.

But no, likely the young queen had lots of things on her plate. Raziel didn’t need her magic to tell her that.

Biela didn’t keep her waiting. When Raziel knocked on her office door, she got called in immediately. Though she knew how busy Biela was, Biela’s desk was clear. It didn’t surprise Raziel, but she was quietly pleased about it nonetheless.

“Thank you for seeing me,” Raziel said politely.

Biela gestured to the chair in front of her desk. “Have a seat. What did you want to talk to me about?”

Raziel sat, folding her hands over one knee. “It’s been several centuries since I’ve been able to ask this of a monarch in Razya. I used to come freely, to speak with Mizra in their temple, and I’d like permission to do so again.” She smiled slightly. “I have had a connection with Mizra for a very long time, and the most recent war has kept me from visiting. While Baylor is working to dismantle the structures Mikael built to disrupt the gods’ presence in Liewen, I’d like to reestablish contact with Mizra here.”

Biela had not returned her smile. “Yes,” she said, folding her hands on the desk. “I imagine war puts a damper on spiritual practices. We’re still in the process of rebuilding many of our temples that Mikael’s army burned to the ground. Very few were left untouched.”

Raziel inclined her head ever so slightly. “That was something else I wanted to speak to you about. I’d like to help fund some of the rebuilding; not just for Mizra’s temples, but the rest of them, too.” For the most part she left her mind open, so Biela could see without effort that she meant it.

Biela leaned back and eyed her, gaging her. But eventually she said, “That would be helpful. There may be a temple or two you could go to, though it will be entirely up to the priestesses there if they allow you to connect to Mizra. I am not about to overstep my bounds with the priestesses. They can be rather troublesome when provoked.”

“I’m aware,” Raziel promised. “It’s been a while, but Vanja and Kanta should still remember me, if they’re still around.”

“Sure,” she agreed. “I believe they’ve managed to keep out of the crossfire. I believe they managed to save some of the older texts as well. I would suggest reaching out to them first- so they are not caught off guard. Many of the priestesses are new and rather leery of outsiders.”

Raziel nodded. “Of course,” she promised. “I wouldn’t want to cause them any more distress than they've already been through.”

“It is the decent thing to do,” Biela said. “Was there anything else you needed to ask of me?”

“No,” Raziel said, standing. “Thank you, both for your blessing, and for your time.”

“Very well, then,” Biela said. “You may take your leave. And tell your granddaughter to stay out of trouble while you’re at it.”

Raziel nodded, and would have passed through the doorway without another word if something hadn’t struck her. While her connection to Mizra had waned, the blessing the god had given her was still considerable, when she listened. “Congratulations,” Raziel said automatically, looking back at Biela, before she closed the door behind her and went on her way.

---

Sazra finished looking Darius over and confirmed with the witch and her useless mate that Darius was indeed intact and healthy. She only noticed his weakened muscles and his fragile state as the result of not being used for well, five hundred years due to the unfortunate circumstances of being dead.

“I think that a similar treatment that you used on that one will suffice for Darius. There seems to be nothing out of the ordinary besides being rather weak.” She cut Lev a sharp look. “And if there is a heat, I would suggest doing as your body wants instead of falling ill. I do not think it wise to tempt the gods a third time with idiotic choices.”

Lev made the choice of climbing up on the bed next to Darius, as if the weakened demon between the two of them was a sufficient defense against Sazra’s ire. Darius took her hand in his as if to say that he would follow her advice to the T.

If Sazra was the sentimental type, she might even say she missed him, too.

Sazra took her hand back and smoothed down the simple grey dress hanging from her frame. She turned to Cameron, who was watching her rather keenly. “I do warn you, he has been dead for a far longer period of time than your pet was. So it may take longer for him to be back to peak form. He might not even get back to peak form at all.”

Toying with things outside the realm of nature rarely had good consequences. There were sure to be consequences for this latest bastardization of natural forces. At least if the screams she had heard the day before were any indication.

“Noted,” Cameron said, evenly. “I will have you check on him every few hours then. You and the witch and hash out a schedule later, I’m sure.”

The lady witch nodded. “I will be sure to talk to her later,” she promised.

With Cameron’s permission, Sazra found her way back to where she belonged, in the rooms Cameron had needlessly made larger when he inherited the house from Asmadai’s death.

She had not stepped foot outside of this house in well over three thousand years and had no intention of ever doing so again. She found her little dwelling the least stressful and full of far fewer threats to face.

She went to work finding and making more medicines and ointments that would surely help aid Darius in his recovery from, well, death.

She made sure to include the angel’s suppressants in her work as well. She did not need any more extremely loud and annoying children disrupting her learning and working.

---

Raziel was surprised at how quickly the priestesses had approved her visit. She’d expected to wait months, and she’d not even left demonic territories before they’d invited her to come. She’d turned around when she knew; no point in wasting a trip and coming back later.

Mizra’s temple, or at least the one Raziel was visiting, had been mostly untouched by the war, though she assumed that was partly because of how deep in Razya it was hidden. The temple itself was pretty simple, but there was an elegance to it that Raziel had always appreciated.

She moved through the temple quietly, making sure that she kept her gaze politely averted from the younger priestesses. Their gazes followed her, and the weight of the confusion, fear, and even a little anger. Understandably so. Raziel was an angel in their holiest of places, their sanctuary from all the horrors of the world that they’d already faced. She hated knowing she was the one to cause them more distress.

Vanja was the one to greet her, and if the warmth in her green gaze was buried under tiredness and grief, it was still there. Her blonde hair was eternally swept up in a half bun, out of her face and still free to tumble down her back like rays of sunlight.

“It’s been a long time,” Raziel returned the greeting, forcing her mouth up into the socially correct smile. “Even for us.”

“It has been a rather long war, I would say. It is a pleasure to see you as always.”

“Would that I could have returned sooner,” Raziel said, refusing to hold the tension in her shoulders any longer. “I didn’t see Kanta. How is she?” Considering everything that had happened in the excessive amount of time since Raziel had visited, she was surprised that Kanta wasn’t glued to Vanja’s side, even with her duties. They’d been close, exceptionally so, the last time Raziel had seen them.

A warm, rather loving smile graced Vanja’s face. “She is well. In fact she is helping a few new acolytes get adjusted to their new home. Mizra surely will be glad to have such devoted followers.”

Raziel dipped her head. “Kanta was always good with the younger generations,” she conceded. “I’m sure I’d have appreciated her guidance when raising my sons, and my grandson. It was never as easy as she made it seem.”

“I am sure she would have loved to help you. I do miss when tensions were not so high. It was easier to share knowledge with each other- and not not feel the weight of death so frequently.” She inclined her head. “I am sorry for your losses.”

Raziel was practiced enough to keep her old grief tucked far away from her expression and tone. “It’s part of life that some end earlier than others, as much as I’ve hated outliving partners and kin alike. I appreciate your condolences, however.” She waited the appropriate beat before, “I was hoping I could attempt to restore my connection with Mizra today.”

“Of course, of course,” Vanja said. “We mustn’t keep them waiting. I am sure they are aware you have arrived.”

“As they are of all things,” Raziel replied with a smile. She followed Vanja back to one of the empty alcoves that dotted the temple. Not really empty, Raziel corrected herself, as there were candles and plants and even pillows to kneel on, but certainly devoid of another person at the moment. Though Vanja had taken care to situate her far from the acolytes that inhabited the temple, Raziel noted.

“Thank you,” Raziel said, touching Vanja’s elbow with a featherlight touch. Yet another learned gesture, but a well practiced one. “I appreciate your willingness to accommodate me, even after all this time.”

“Of course,” she said. “I will leave so you can acquaint yourself unencumbered. Please let me know when you wish to leave so I can make the necessary arrangements.”

“Of course,” Raziel promised. She waited until the priestess made her leave before she settled in the alcove, unable to fully shake the stiffness she held herself with as she closed her eyes.

When she opened them, she was in a familiar room. The iridescent decor was as delicate as she remembered, and, unsurprisingly, Mizra looked exactly how she remembered them. Pale skin, nearly translucent, and hair the same color, or lack thereof. The only bit of color on the god beyond the simple grey dress were the same striking silver eyes Raziel herself had. A gift, or so Raziel understood it, that went along with the magic Mizra had bestowed upon her all those millennia ago. Raziel no longer remembered what she looked like with the golden eyes Lev had inherited. As far as she was concerned she might as well not ever had them.

“Well it is about time you graced yourself with my presence.”

The first genuine smile Raziel had worn in months cracked her usual facade, though it was small and quickly faded. “I missed you too, old friend,” she replied. “Much has happened, and I’m sorry this war has kept me from you for so long.”

Mizra sniffed and waved a dismissive hand. “You silly mortals and your silly wars. It is as annoying as it is hinderous. I find it tedious.”

“As you do many things,” Raziel countered. “I think the war is over, for now. You’ll have my company for a few centuries before another breaks out, I should hope.”

“Oh yes, yes,” Mizra said. “Your little rulers do seem to be competent in their jobs. Baylor sharing my gifts should hold promise.”

“Should,” Raziel agreed. “I’m sure you’ve got plenty to tell me.” Even as she thought about sitting, a chair was there, so she sank down in it with a contented little sigh. “I’ve missed our talks.”

“I have as well. My siblings can only hold my interest for so long,” Mizra said, sinking gracefully in their own chair. They had two cups of tea appear in their hands. “Tell me more about Cameron. He has been rather… distant and I find his lack of acknowledgement to be rather insolent on his part. Now that that awful woman is no longer tied to his life.”

“I imagine he doesn’t have anyone to point him in your direction,” Raziel mused. “And from the very little amount of time I’ve spent in his presence, I think she’s still very much tangled up in his mind and heart, as much as he’d refuse to admit it. Asmadai did damage to his mind and spirit that only a mother could.” She blinked slowly, accepting the cup of tea handed to her. “Though I did not expect him to become so entangled with my grandson.” She couldn’t quite lie to herself and say had she known she’d have raised him any differently, but...

“Oh yes,” Mizra said, eyes sharpening in thought. “Your interesting little breakable bird of a grandson does make Cameron all the more captivating. He and his little band of broken boys. I want you to fix him for me.”

“I’m not a therapist,” Raziel replied with a frown. “And stars know I was never a good mother; I’m not the best at guiding anyone down the path they should take.” Her frown deeped. “I’m sure you know he doesn’t trust me. He has no reason to; I’m half convinced he’s only a step from open hostility at all times when it comes to me, though I’ve done nothing to him personally.”

“I am sure it was your little war that has his mood so sour,” they said. “Anyhow, I do not care for his feelings, I care that he is worshipping me so he can access the full extent of his abilities. He’s so far disconnected from me, he might as well be magicless.”

Raziel considered her words carefully. In the end she simply said, “I will do my best to send him your way. Subtle maneuverings will get us nowhere; I’ll simply tell him you wish his presence. Even Cameron wouldn’t dare tell a god no.” She hoped, anyway.

“If he values his self preservation as much as I know he does he will,” Mizra said, glibly. “Besides, what does he think kept his skin attached to his bones for the last five hundred years. His winning charm? That would be incorrect.”

Raziel found herself laughing, albeit quietly. “You guided him well, even when he could not hear you. I’ll try to help put him on your path, or at least point him towards the correct signs and let him think he’ll figure it out on his own.”

“Yes.” Their eyes narrowed in deep thought. “Men do think they’re far more intelligent. Their little wars would be less violent if they listened to reason. It is with good luck that Cameron chooses to listen to what I have to say. I expect results, Raziel, do not fail me.”

tagging:  @incandescent-creativity @solangelo3088 @lil-miss-red @halstudies @littleyellowdinosaur @caelisis @idreamonpaper

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #wip boost #original writing #hell to pay #ch: cameron #ch: darius #ch: the gods #ch: Ash #ch: sazra #ch: celeste

[xgiannax]

Do you write for our green haired cinammon roll? 🥺 because a tickle fight between the two would be so cute!

Yeth we love broccli boi over here 🥴🥺

“Deku! Good afternoon!” You said cheerfully and pulled him in for a tight hug, he tensed up caught off guard but then instantly relaxed when he realized it was you. He hugged you back tightly and nuzzled into your shoulder

“H-hey Y/N! You scared me, sorry” you giggled a little and pulled back to kiss his cheek

“Didn’t mean to, my bad!”

“Tch, will you idiots cut it out already?”

“Ha, yeah! Getting jelous over here where’s my hug, Y/N?” Kirishima teased trying to grab you for a hug, you laughed swatting his hands away

“Shut up, you guys! Is it okay if I steal him so we can work on our project?” Your eyes flickered between Bakugou- who looked annoyed- and Kirishima who was as upbeat as usual, they nodded.

“Yeah, whatever we were just leaving anyway” Bakugou said waving over his shoulder before turning to walk away, Kirishima bowed his head lightly at the two of you

“See you later, guys! Have fun” he added with a wink and Midoriya quickly turned pink and chuckled nervously

“So, your room or mine?” He asked smiling gently

“Oooh” you wiggled your eyebrows making him even more embarrassed

“C-cut that out, Y/N!” He groaned moving around you heading toward the boys end of the dorm rooms, so his then you guessed.

An Hour Later

You groaned stretching out your limbs on the floor

“Let’s take a break? We’ve been at it for a whole hour!” Midoriya looked over at your pouting face and smiled at you

“Come on, Y/N we’re almost done!” You groaned again for dramatic emphasis making him chuckle

“Yes, I know but we have three more days until it’s due we can finish tomorrow”

“Just a little while longer” he insisted fully engrossed in what he was writing on his notepad

“Break! Breeeeeaakk!” You chanted reaching over to poke him, he flinched away squeaking

“Don’t start this, Y/N!” He exclaimed laughing, you ignored him knocking him over and straddling him. His notepad flew out of his hands and instead he wrapped his arms around his stomach in attempts to defend against your attacks

“Nohohohooo eep!” He went from laughing loudly to giggling when you squeezed his hips and the sound absolutely melted your heart

“Aawww, Izukuuu!” You coed at him. He tried to glare up at you failing miserably due to his huge smile, yours hands moved up scratched lightly and against the skin on his neck and you laughed with him while he kicked out and screamed scrunching his shoulders. Your moment, however, was short lived.

He reached up clawing gently at your stomach and you went weak collapsing against his chest in a fit of giggles, you tried to roll off but he kept you in place switching to spider his fingers up and down your back maddeningly. You squirmed around against him laughing insanely into his chest

“OKAHAHAAY IZUKU I CAHAHANT!” You begged gripping his shirt, finally he rolled two of you over and you thought he was done

“Are you done now?” You asked sighing in relief

“No way, don’t forget that you started this Y/N!” You fell right back into frantic giggles kicking out as he squeezed your knees and held you still to trace patterns on your bare lower stomach, somehow you managed to wiggle out of his grip quickly turning the tables again.

“NOHOHOT THEHERE” he all but screamed when you scribbled your fingers in his clamped shut armpits “Y/N PLEASEE!” He shouted sounding out of breath so you quickly stopped worried you’d gone too far, you removed your hands

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry Izuku are you-AHAHAHA IVE BEEN FOHOHOOLED” you screamed loudly as he caught you off guard, pulling you into him again and blowing a huge raspberry into the side of your neck.

He blew a few more back to back before you couldn’t take it anymore and you no longer made any noise, finally he let you go and you collapsed in his lap taking in huge breaths of air. Your chest heaved and he laughed down at you running a hand through his now messy hair

“So...mean” was all you could get out and Izuku chuckled again timidly kissing your forehead

“Now that we’ve taken a break, can we finish the project please Y/N? We could get ice cream after!” You perked up at the mention of ice cream taking your spot across from him eagerly

“And suddenly, I am motivated”

#bnha fluff #bnha x reader #sfw tickles #tickle fic #tickling #tickle fluff #ticklish!reader #izuku x you #izuku mydoria #izuku midoria x reader #bnha izuku #midoriya izuku #izuku x y/n #tickle asks #lee!reader