#hopefully ill be able to get back into the swing of it soon enough

[jackobbit]

"You've taken so many risks... so many things could have gone wrong along the way, and you changed so much... Do you regret any of it?"

"No."

A little spooky doodle of KC from Magma :]

[ID: A digitally drawn image of KillCode from the Working for E.V.I.L. AU sitting slightly hunched in a dark room, they have one hand on their shoulder while their other hand rests on a raised surface. KC sits with their legs crossed, looking directly at the viewer as large cables stem from his back and travel upwards towards the ceiling. The background consists of grey walls and a bright red light that emanates from a machine with a red screen behind KC. KC is an animatronic with a circular head, small red eyes and a large grin. She wears a long blue nightcap covered in silver stars and puffy pants that match, she blades adorning her forearms and does not wear a shirt. /End ID]

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Waiting For Shanks To Return To Tell Him Surprising News

Shanks X FemReader

Rating: T

Warnings: Suggestive themes and a dagger is involved

Word Count: 1.7k

(A/N:) Hello readers! I should finally start getting back into the swing of things now that Christmas is here! I’ve missed writing so much and I have ideas I’ve been wanting to write especially about One Piece. Back in November I had went to see Red and to made me fall in love with the story. So now I have started reading and watching One Piece and Shanks and Zoro are my faves. So I’m starting out with Shanks but I have an idea for Zoro and an idea for Sanji so just keep an eye out hopefully I can write those soon! But I am still learning about this universe so mostly these imagines are just for funsies so don’t take them too seriously! X3 But it feels good to write again and I look forward to posting more! So until next time happy reading! ~Countess

You stood upon the shore of Foosha Village’s port watching the horizon as you did every evening as the sun began to set in the sky. The salty waves crashing the shore sent droplets of water to spatter against the hem of your flowing gown as the breeze billowed your hair behind you tangling it just enough that you would have to brush it when you got home. Nobody of the village would bother you at these moments, as you were waiting and hoping for Shanks to return and soon. Usually you were on the boat with him just another piece of his large crew. But the last time he docked at Foosha you were ill and couldn’t get well in time for him and the crew to set sail. So he left you with a house upon a private cove overlooking the ocean to see when he sailed in and in the care of Makino as he knew that she would take the best of care of you until you were well again.

“You won’t be long,” you had asked him weakly.

  He gave a gentle smile with a hint of sadness, “I’ll try my best. Wait for me to return upon that far horizon.”

“Okay,” you whispered falling back to sleep to escape another bout of nausea.

That had been six months ago and now you stood upon the sand watching and waiting with a protective hand over your swollen belly. Makino had fetched the village doctor when you hadn’t improved in several days and that’s when your pregnancy was revealed. Wedded to the notorious red haired pirate and now mother to said pirate’s child. You were nervous about how Shanks would take the news when he finally returned, yes he already had an adopted daughter in Uta, but having a baby while he was so busy was something you were afraid he wouldn’t accept. You also feared he’d leave you behind once more, only to never return leaving you alone to raise the child that he helped create. 

You kicked at the sand in frustration as the familiar ship didn’t part the horizon like you hoped. As the temperature began to drop as the sun sank lower you shivered, you decided to go back home. Your older more comfortable clothes no longer fit thanks to your large stomach so you had to make do with the flowing gowns Makino dredged up for you. With soup bubbling in the pot above the fire you dished some out and ate before deciding to just go ahead and sleep. You hadn’t been able to sleep much lately as the baby was beginning to grow more restless and keeping you awake for majority of the night with their squirming and moving. It didn’t take long for you to slip into dreamless sleep as the exhaustion was starting to get too much to bear.

Shanks knew that you wouldn’t be awake at this hour but he had pushed his crew to make it back to you tonight. He had been gone a lot longer than he intended, and while he knew you would understand he couldn’t help but still feel that pang of guilt deep inside. Since getting to know each other you both hadn’t left each other’s sides in so long. So leaving you alone without anyone there at all times of the day was a horrible feeling he never wanted to repeat. His bed in his captains' quarters had never been colder since he had to leave you behind. Now as his crew were about ready to drop he had them rush through docking the ship and making preparations to stay for at least a few days. He had much catching up to do with you and preparing you and all the supplies for an extra person tagging along once more.

 With the familiar boat docked in the bay he searched for you, it was late but he was sure that you would still be up looking for his return. When you didn’t show up rushing towards him with open arms Shanks gave his men free rein to do whatever they pleased (as he knew they wouldn’t take advantage of the good people of Foosha) he made his way towards the place he had bought you to stay. Upon the top of the cove he saw your place all dark and lifeless. He couldn’t stop the panic welling in his chest as horrible thoughts came to his mind. Surely you were okay? Shanks rushed in catching the door with his one hand before it could bang against the wall, while he was losing his mind he knew that there could still be the possibility that you were just sleeping. His worries eased as he saw the freshly dirty dishes and the smoldering fire in the hearth, but he wouldn’t be satisfied until he saw you. So to the bedroom he went where the sight that he beheld made him suck in a breath. There you laid, sleeping peacefully, warm blankets pulled to your chin. Though covered he could tell the difference in your form. Gone was the shape of the woman who was used to fighting, sailing, and climbing. Now you were round and soft and Shanks knew that the feelings that were rolling under the surface wasn’t just from seeing you for the first time in forever. 

It didn’t take a genius to realize that you were pregnant and heavily so. He sat on the edge of the bed not really wanting to wake you but having a hard time controlling his self. Reaching out with a calloused hand he brushed hair from your open mouth. Your face scrunched and you mumbled something he couldn’t make out, it made him chuckle. You immediately went into action, hand rushing to underneath your pillow, you pulled a dagger out holding it to his throat in a threatening motion.

“Who are you,” you snarled ready to slit your intruder’s throat.

“Hello to you too beautiful,” Shanks chuckled again and the dagger was dropped immediately.

“Shanks??”

“Yeah,” he sighed gathering you in his arm, “it’s me sweetheart.”

“Sorry that your first greeting back was a blade to your throat.”

“Not the worst greeting I’ve ever received,” he smiled cupping your cheek. “It’s good to know that you never lost those reflexes that you honed all those years sailing with me.”

“Well,” you pinched his cheek, “I can’t spoil my husband’s good name by being weak.”

“You’ve never been mistaken for weak and never will be. I’m the idiot who left you though in this condition.”

You hung your head ashamed, “We didn’t know. I’m sorry I didn’t send word to you. I was afraid you wouldn’t be happy.”

“How could I not be happy?! This is amazing and such a surprise. Who knew your sickness was just symptoms from being pregnant?”

“I’m sure the rocking boat didn’t help with the puking and bouts of nausea.”

“Yeah we rocked the boat ourselves on several occasions that’s what got you into this state in the first place,” the mischievousness in his gaze was not lost on you.

“Shaaaaaanks,” you whined punching his shoulder.

“Kidding,” he kissed you softly. “But not really, cause it is the truth.”

Moments passed by quietly as you just held one another basking in the presence that you both missed greatly. The sound of the ocean outside your little home bringing back so many memories over the years you both had spent on the high seas together. It was just a perfect moment that Shanks knew he had to interrupt, though he didn’t want to.

“Want to go see the crew,” he asked breaking the peace. “They’ve missed you almost as much as I have.”

Though your body was exhausted and you were embarrassed about how big you have grown, you couldn’t deny your red haired pirate or his lovable crew. “I need to change into something warmer and can you help me get there? The walk has been getting more difficult in my state.”

“You don’t even need to ask.”

Shanks held your hand tightly as he helped you down some of the steep slopes to the sandy beach below. While your little cove away had seemed so cold and lonely the last few months, this was the first time in awhile you enjoyed the walk with the warm hand squeezing yours with gentle pressure. Life without Shanks around was boring but mostly it was lonely. His warming presence was something you never really thought about until it wasn’t around. And whatever fear that had been pressing upon you, keeping you from enjoying watching your baby grow within you dissipated with his contagious grin. His ship came into view and you could see the guys buzzing back and forth taking care of the ship’s needs before theirs. You glared at your sheepish husband at seeing how exhausted his men were.

“I couldn’t help it,” he defended himself. “I was desperate to see you and so were they.”

“Treat them to a good meal tomorrow and some good ale,” you elbowed him.

“Yes ma’am,” he agreed wanting to stay in your good graces. As soon as the hard working crew spotted you with their captain a roaring cheer lifted into the night sky. You could have sworn the ship rocked even harder than the waves crashing against it with the excited men. You laughed using Shanks as a sturdy crutch as you waddled across the shifting sand. They tossed themselves overboard stampeding toward you and Shanks. Shanks pulled you protectively into his side bracing you behind him just in case his rambunctious men got out of control. But as soon as they saw your condition they skidded to a stop in awe. “Surprise,” you teased sheepishly. Silence passed before a loud roar sounded out and several sharp slaps to Shanks back left him staggering and his back stinging. Some of the men softly asked if they could touch their stomach, as they were remembering pregnant wives at one point in their lives. You agreed tears pricking at the corner of your eyes as they accepted you and the little one inside. It felt so good to have your husband and friends back and you couldn’t wait to get back onto the seas sailing with your family with a new addition in tow.

[dearmantis]

A deal with a god

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling x fem!Reader

Summary: You arrive back in your rooms and try to figure out what to do before the General forces you to make a decision.

Warnings: manipulation, period-typical sexism, mentions of domestic abuse

Word Count: 3k

Authors' Note: Like two people asked for It all goes in vain to get a part 2 and that was months ago... and now it's a series because I have no self control. I was also asked to make Reader and Aleksander a power duo. I don't know if I'm good at writing power couples, but I will try. I also didn't edit this and English is not my native language.

Previous Part | Series Masterlist

The walk back to the Grand Palace clears your head a bit, your mind delightfully empty as you focus on not being caught sneaking around with a ruined dress and disheveled hair. Years of living in the palace have prepared you for this, but you still feel how the weight of the world drops from your shoulders as soon as the door to your room closes behind you.

Eyes moving to the clock on your desk, you realise with relief that your servants will come in around ten minutes, giving you some time to make sure your room looks like you spend the night here.

You beginn by moving your bed sheets around, before quickly skipping to the bowl you use to wash your face at night, dunking your hands into the cold water and scrubbing the bits of makeup the general missed off your face to make the water look more used. Grabbing a towel, you dry your skin and pull off your shoes, dropping them next to the bed.

At last you rip off your dress quickly, removing the many layers and leaving them on the floor before slipping into a simple robe and crawling into your bed, rolling yourself up in your blankets like a babe.

If you look pathetic enough, the servants will hopefully tell your parents that you're too exhausted from last nights celebration to eat with them. You will be allowed to spend the whole day up here in your room, waiting and preparing for the Darklings appearance.

You need this. You need the time to plan for the future, and you fear that you will loose this fire in you, this new awoken hope that you will find freedom, if you are forced to face your mother before you officially agree to work with the Shadow Summoner. That the guilt will swallow you whole and rip your strength away from you if you see her trusting, hopeful face before you officially agree to conspire with the grisha general against your own parents.

The reality of it all, of the fact that you are going to commit treason together with a descendant of the Black Heretic, hits you in the same moment the doors to your room swing open and your servants step in.

You do your absolute best to look as miserable and sick as humanly possible despite the realisation you just had, whining and complaining about the room being too bright, and everyone being too loud, until your servants finally give up.

"A princess should never be seen in such a state." One of the servants murmurs almost disappointed while she pulls the curtains in your room close. "Especially not by her betrothed. We will cover for you, your royal highness, and tell your mother that you got sick. I believe your brother is in the same state as you. Maybe that will distract her. Do you think you will be able to attend lunch?"

Shaking your head slowly, you watch as the other servants clean up the chaos you created, one of the girls leaving to get you a cup of tea. The mention of your brother makes you a bit sick. Nothing good ever happens when he's drunk, and you can only hope that your mother doesn't interpret your sudden illness as a sign that you're about to go down the same path that he has.

You're not the crown prince. She will not ignore your misbehaviour. No, she will try to get you back into shape to make sure you won't embarrass her.

A son can make as many mistakes as he wants. A daughter needs to be perfect.

"I think I won't even be able to come to dinner." You rasp, moving to bury your face in one of your many silk pillows. "I just want to be left alone today. No lessons, no visitors, no snacks or other meals. I want to see no one."

"Of course, your royal highness. We will make sure that no one disturbs you today." Another servant responds quietly.

You're in the middle of acting like you're falling asleep again when you suddenly remember something else. "I really can't stand all this noise... Lower the amount of guards around my quarters to a minimum for today, and don't bother coming back up to prepare me for bed tonight either. I will do it myself today."

A choir of "Of course, your royal highness." is the only answer you get before you sink back into your pillows and force yourself to slowly relax your muscles, refusing to move until the servant who got you tea returns with the steaming cup and all five women leave your quarters.

You stay on your bed like this for another few minutes until you finally feel safe enough to get up, taking a quick sip from your tea before quickly moving over to your desk.

It's too risky to write down notes, to put the information and ideas swirling around in your head on paper where other people can find them and figure out what you're doing, but you can at least sit at your desk and look at a few documents while you try to come up with a plan.

A safety net. That's what you need. And maybe the power of clairvoyance, just to make sure you don't end up making foolish mistakes like your bumbling idiot of a brother does, his mind too clouded by his own arrogance to see the effect his horrifying behavior has on others.

The most important question is why exactly the General wants to help you.

"It would give me a chance to make sure Ravka, my home, will be safe."

A sweet reason, sure. Honourable as well, and you don't doubt that that's probably part of his motivation, but the General doesn't seem stupid enough to commit treason for something like this. And how would stopping your marriage make Ravka a safer place?

You're the second born child of the king, sure, but you're also a woman. You wield no power. Why would a smart, ambitious man like the Darkling help you? Why not try to make your brother see that Grisha are people instead? That seems to be more effective. You don't understand how keeping you in the Grand Palace benefits him or the Second Army in any way.

There is no reason for him to help you, at least none that you can see.

"And what do you need to help me?"

"I will need you to fulfil your duty, moya tsarevna. You will have to pay a price in exchange for your freedom. You can not hesitate."

Biting down on your lower lip you shake your head weakly, forcing yourself to accept that you probably won't be able to uncover his real motive for helping you tonight. To many bits and pieces of information are missing for you to actually figure out his motive. You need to make plans for the possible failures ahead instead of wasting your time on a puzzle with missing parts.

Difficult, considering you don't know what the plan is yet, but sitting around and doing nothing would be stupid. And what if the Shadow Summoner decides that the risk of being executed for treason is too big for him? If he comes to the conclusion that helping you is not worth the effort? You need to prepare for that, too.

You have to come up with an idea of how to save yourself in Fjerda. How to be safe in the north or flee.

But flee to where? The wave of hopelessness that pushed you down before the whole thing with the General happened hits you once more, threatening to drown you if you don't come up with an idea quickly.

Ravka is not an option. Maybe the west, if you stay away from government officials and instead live life as a commoner, but even that would require a crossing of the fold and more luck than the saints are probably willing to give you.

Shu Han is not an option either. There is no way you could run from your future husbands home and then cross Ravka without being detected. Same problem with Kerch and the risk of being recognized there is even higher.

And successfully fleeing to Novyi Zem without being caught would require a miracle.

No, you can't make it to Fjerda. As soon as you're in the north, you're stuck in a place where you will never feel safe or happy.

A better option would be to fake your death before, during, or shortly after the wedding. Perhaps you could ally yourself with some Materialki and Corporalki as well, get them on board with faking your murder and getting you out of the castle. No one would look for you if all of Ravka thought their Princess was dead, after all.

Another problem you will have to keep in mind is the constant risk of being discovered if you choose to work with the Darkling. Sure, you will probably just get send off to Fjerda and cut off from your family forever, doomed to die in the north, away from your people and the ghosts and sins of your ancestors, but they will kill the General. They'll probably make you watch too, in hopes of teaching you a lesson.

You can't let that happen. Not to someone who has offered to safe you, even if he is only doing it to save his own skin in some way, or give himself more power, money, or whatever else he's after.

No. You have to plan to make sure you will both get out of the palace in case you get caught. But would he abandon the Grisha? Or would he prefer to go down kicking and screaming like a warrior instead of running like a child?

You know you prefer running, even if it means losing some of your pride and honour, because running means living and living means you can try again. You can fight another battle, attempt to make people see reason once more, and ensure that your ideas don't die with you.

The General doesn't seem like the type of person to share that mindset, though. He's a man through and through, and men like to do horrible and stupid things to force their opinions down other peoples throats. Like die the death of a martyr in hopes of someone else picking up the responsibility and finishing the fight for them.

If you want to save his life, you will probably have to kidnap him.

Groaning quietly you lean back in your chair and stare at the ceiling, trying to clear your mind a bit. There are so many variables in your future, so many what if's you have to prepare for, and you're still so exhausted from crying all night. Things have never been like this before. Most of your life you've played a side character to your brothers story, just like everyone has told you to do, as a woman, and second in the line of succession.

The most people ever say about you is that you're harmless, a delight to have around, and harmless delights simply don't go around scheming with the man everyone in Ravka, Fjerda and Shu Han is terrified of. They don't take fate into their own hands and fight back when people try to force a life they don't want onto them. All of this is new territory, and a part of you is mortified by the consequences of the possible failures ahead of you.

At least you managed to remove some of the guards from your wing of the palace without raising suspicion. Less trouble for the General to get to you. You've done something. A small first step taken before the real fight begins. It's an alright start for someone inexperienced.

You spend the rest of the day trying to do the impossible: Plan and prepare for the future. Predicting what will happen and how to react without losing track and getting confused with the dozens of what if's swirling around in your head like a vicious storm.

What will you do if your brother or mother find out?

What will you do if a servant notices what's going on?

What will you do if your betrothed realises what's happening? How could you protect the General from the wrath of a fjerdan royal? How could you protect yourself?

It's pitch black in your room when a knock finally frees you from your spiralling thoughts. For a few seconds you have trouble orienting yourself, confused about why it's so dark now, but before you get a chance to actually panic, another, louder knock on the door pulls you back to reality.

Quickly moving to light a small candle on your desk, you tighten the robe around your body and open the door to your quarters, motioning for the man waiting in front to step into your room. It's improper for anyone to see you in

The General is still fully dressed in his Kefta, his steps surprisingly light considering how heavy his boots look. He walks into your quarters slowly, gaze moving over your furniture and the small lonely candle on the table. your current state, especially a man, but it hardly matters considering what's ahead of you.

"Did I wake you, moya tsarevna?" He asks after you lock the door behind him, his voice calm and quiet as if he's trying to make sure that people passing your rooms won't hear his voice through the walls.

"Hmm? Oh, no. I was just thinking and lost track of the time."

"Thinking?"

He slowly turns back to you, one half of his face illuminated with the warm light of the candle while the other is hidden in the shadows. "I hope you didn't change your mind. It would be a shame for another strong woman like you to get lost in the north."

You can feel a muscle in your jaw tighten as you take his words in. He should wish for you to change your mind and leave him alone. This whole plan, whatever it may be, will probably be more dangerous to him than to you. Why isn't he hoping you changed your mind and accepted your fate?

"No, no. I didn't change my mind. I'm willing to do whatever you need me to."

Taking a deep breath, you step closer to the middle of the room, closer to him, your eyes moving to the calm, glowing candle flame. You can still feel his gaze burning on your skin.

"I was born in this palace. I learned how to speak and walk here. This is my home. Nobody, not even my horrible, despicable betrothed, should be able to drag me out of here." You declare calmly.

Your gaze finds his once more, his eyes somehow darker than the night sky outside, and you can feel your nails dig into the soft flesh of your palms.

"My whole life I was taught that it's my duty to serve my country and my people. I can not do that when I'm in Fjerda. I can not protect or help anyone there. I have no power there. I need your help, General."

The storm of thoughts, of what-if's and why's, gets louder as you look at him, almost consuming you, but the visible pride in the Shadow Summoners eyes grounds you just enough, reassures you that things will be alright. He will keep his promise and make sure that you stay in the Grand Palace safe and sound until you die.

"Tell me what to do, Aleksander. I am willing to pay the price."

He smiles. There is nothing friendly or soft in the expression, only glee and satisfaction, but for some reason you're not as scared of him as you probably should be.

You're not a stupid girl that's falling for the lies of an older man. You know what you're getting into. You will be prepared for anything he might throw at you. This is your home after all, and while the General has experience with your father and the general politics of Ravka, with the complicated rules of war, he is definitely not familiar with the game you've been stuck playing.

He doesn't know your betrothed, barely cares for your mother, and has always been dismissive of your brother despite the fact that he will be on the throne in a few years. The only player he has ever paid attention to is you, and that's a recent development. He only cares now because he seems to believe you can give him something.

You know the rules better than he does, and if you don't pay attention to his plans and schemes, to his end goal, he will mess up and drag you both down. It's his job to manipulate and trick others and yours to clean and cover up. A perfect team.

"I'm glad to hear that you trust me, moya tsarevna. I promise I won't fail you."

He holds his hand out slowly, and for a few seconds you simply look at it. His hand is large, with long fingers and small scars covering the pale skin that shimmer in the weak light of the candle.

Taking his hand means treason. It means betraying your parents and, in the same breath, your country. It means making Fjerda your enemy. It means covering your hands with the blood that sticks to the Darklings hands. It means paying a price he refuses to name. It means trusting darkness itself.

This would be the riskiest, dumbest thing you've ever done. It would be like begging to be caught and punished by your parents. And what would your betrothed do if he found out his future wife conspired with the Darkling to escape him? He would kill you for that. Beat you until you're nothing but a bleeding lump of flesh on the floor with no one to grieve you left in the world after you betrayed everyone who loved you.

You grab Aleksanders hand.

[darlingdollhousevn]

You ok?

A little bit yes, a little bit no! Some of you may have known I was in. A really, horrifically bad spot about 6 months ago before I moved across the country. I'm still struggling to recover from what the move and all of the stress has done to my body and my energy- I was already chronically ill with severe fatigue but it's been really god awfully bad lately. On top of that, I don't have the additional income from student aid since I have to wait to gain residency in my new state to be able to afford school, so I'm having to work to make enough to like. barely eat throughout the month and MAYBE pay bills on time (never mind my debt from moving so short notice and the situation I was in 🤡). I'm disabled and I really don't function well when I'm working, so I've been sleeping a lot, unable to keep up with keeping my house clean and my spouse taken care of, haven't been able to establish medical care here yet, and in a lot of pain. that being said, I'm not scared of where I live anymore and I'm no longer in active danger or an abusive situation.

so it's really a toss up but my silence here is largely medical related, including the fact that I can no longer afford the correct amount of my antidepressants so a bitch is withdrawing and having a mental health flare lmao

I miss you all and I want to get back in the swing of things as soon as I can! I like working on my games and interacting with my community! it's good for my mental well being and it helps me express myself and feel some purpose, and I hope spread some joy! right now I'm just trying to scrape by any energy possible to keeping living, though, so we'll see when I'm able to get back on the wagon. I'm also just TRULY embarrassed by the delay with FoE at thus point, and have ruminated on the project just long enough that I've started gutting and redesigning a lot of it.

the positive of this is hopefully I release a nice game. the negative is I'm scared of my socials bc my dev timeline is crap and I should have finished ages ago🤣🤣🤣 anyway this has been an annoyingly long upd8 since it had been a while since I checked in w everyone and I wanted to give the full scoop for anyone who wanted to know whats up. thank you for checking in nonnie ♥️ hope you're having a wonderful day!

[peanutpmingib]

boyfriend!sunwoo headcanons

 presenting ur college bf sunwoo <3

word count : 1.1K+

watch it : suggestive content, skinny dipping, mildly illegal actions (sneaking into public pool after hours), if I missed anything feel free to let me know !

a/n : this series is rly fun, hopefully ill get to all the boys soon (hah the boys, get it ?) this one got a way more actual fic like then the other little headcanons in this series and thats okay I rly like it. I hope u do too !

_———————-_

-ah sunwoo, the neighborhood headache

-works at a tiny convenience store in front of a community pool, don't ask, he doesn't have any answers. Only conspiracies

-hates his job but its all worth it when he meets you there

-you come stumbling in during finals week, long after most ppl should be up n about

-He sees u n doesn't think much, another late night finals studier, could be way worse

-that is until he loses track of you in the tiny store and finds you passed out leaning on the cheese puffs, halfway to dream land and drooling. Kinda cute, kinda annoying

-He wakes you up, helps you get home and scores your number in the proces. Just in case you pass out in strange places again he tells you

-The rest is history

-U stop by the little store any chance u get.  Eager to taste any and all sweetness sunwoo gives you. Hes full energy and sugary words

-it becomes routine, you finish your classes for the day, check ur phone for ur daily “at the store today” or the rare “not at the store today”. And swing by the cozy little building, well more of a crack in the wall than anything but a store nonetheless  

-he always greets u with a smile, quickly followed by some dumb remark

“Don't fall asleep in the snack aisle again” “Unfortunately we just ran out of in isle beds sorry”

“I'm not gonna wake u up this time”

“You drool in your sleep you know it's so grossss”

-he's truly a headache, the reasons as to why u always choose to come back remains a mystery to u and the general population

(you know the reason but that doesnt mean youll admit it. Your crush on him will die with you dammit)

-there's one day where he tells you he'll be working the latest shift okay so he won't be there at your usual time. So instead u wear ur comfiest pjs, bring a few blankets and show up about 20 mins into his shift. Long after the streets have cleared of ppl. It reminds you of your first meeting all those nights ago

It's almost like you're the only 2 ppl in the world, and you let yourself believe it. Even for only the time shared together

-He pretends like the gesture doesn't make him blush and instead goes back to teasing

Its okay hes cute, you'll let it slide

-About another 30 mins in does he decide to ditch the job and take u to the infamous community pool. There have been 0 customers is his excuse

The pool is in fact right behind the store, the back staff room leads right out to the warm summer night illuminated by a single street light in the far corner of the property. Just enough to be able to walk without dying.

There begins a little strip of mangled concrete that separates the two. And from that a wired fence to the back end of the pool that looks like it's seen much better days

-He's teasing about it, per usual

Lots of “come on it isnt even that cold”

“Barely anyone uses it when it's light out what makes u think there's gonna be an influx in users at 2 am”

He starts the climb up the fence, looping a foot in one of the larger holes between the wire. It doesn't take him much time to scale it, landing with a smirk on the other side

-You eventually give in, rolling your eyes while attempting to do the same. Embarrassingly enough you end up needing his help getting over it.

‘You're such a baby”

“Just such up and help me woo”

He laughs but helps you anyway. Climbing back over to help you get your footing. The gentle hold he has on your ankle makes this seem like a far more intimate activity. Until he all but throws you the rest of the way over

“God i hate you”

Laughs bubble from his mouth faster than he can stop them, clutching his stomach and wiping tears,,“That was fun tho come on you have to admit that much”

“Yeah yeah whatever. “ you huff, letting him lead you the rest of the way to the dark water.

He gives you a look before you shake your head, “I'm not swimming tho!! I have no extra clothes and i'm not gonna let these get all wet and gross” you sigh

“So swim without them” he shrugs

“No you idiot i don't have any other-”

“I know, just swim without clothes? Live a little”

You can feel the blush slowly span your face at that, you hope he cant tell in the dark

“You live too much” is all you have to say back

He just laughs, not wasting time to peel his own clothes off and wiggling into the water. You try not to stare you really really do but holy hell does he make it hard. It's almost like he's taunting you with how slow he’s walking into the water

He turns to you after the water is up to his navel, motioning with a hand for you to join.

Really the problem isn't the situation at hand, skinny dipping seems like great fun rly, the problem lies with the man who you're in this predicament with. He's all but invaded your heart and mind at this point. He's just, so, everything you've ever wanted and more. Sweet smiles and even sweeter words, teasing but still kind, always making room for you in his life. Hard working to his core.

the way he looks at you while you tell him the most mundane things about your day makes your head spin, the care he takes into looking out for you is unmatched by anyone. you are so gone for him

fuck it.

you toss your clothes to the side faster than you can change your mind about it and slide your way into the freezing water

“it’s fucking freezing what the hell “

he only strides closer to u, gently lacing your hands together and pulling you further in, where the water now comes to your collar bones.

“I got you” he murmurs

you shiver and shake at the water,”m still cold”

but he only presses himself impossible close to under the water

“well, let me warm u up then” he barely whispers while your chests are flush together, his hands on either side of your face

that night is the first time you kiss, and the night he confesses

-your new found relationship is filled with many more happy moments and endless teases

-loving sunwoo is as easy as simply existing near him. He pulls you into his orbit, never intending to let you so much as slip from within. An anchor of sorts, internally destined to lie within the invisible force that drives the both of u together

his laugh is infectious his smile brighter than the sun, always putting you first and scheming of new ways to make u blush

he’s a keeper, treat him well

[bakugohoex]

Hiii I saw your requests are open so can I request kenma and his newlywed wife accidentally eating a bunch of aphrodisiacs they got from kuroo as a prank wedding gift 👀and yk they have a longggg ahead of them (also lmao they didn’t know it was aphrodisiacs until they actually looked at the packaging dummies thought it were just candies)

“kuroo that is not a wedding present, it’s a death wish”

pairing: kenma kozume x female reader

cw: aged up, nsfw (female recieving oral, choking, fingering, hickies, fucking (obvs) and nipple play) , fluff, aprodisiacs and wedding night

word count: 2300+

a/n: hi guys, happy holidays to you all, hope you enjoy this fic, i probably wont be as active and once mid january hits ill be on hiatus because of exams, but hopefully i can put out a ton of fics so you all don’t go hungry 

summary:  in which kuroo offers you some sweets, not realising what it was, you and kenma eat them all with a long night ahead of the both of you, once kuroo calls and reveals the truth you realise how idiotic your husbands best friend is 

↞ back to haikyu!! masterlist 

The lights blared through the venue, the drinks in people’s hands as they tried to keep it afloat whilst dancing. One word to describe this wedding. Chaotic.

The wedding had been perfect, everything had worked out and you’d say that it was everything you and Kenma had dreamed of. With the wedding in full swing and the reception occurring where everybody let loose, you stood beside Kuroo talking about Kenma, who for the entire day hadn’t touched any sort of game. You were shocked and even told him if he didn’t like the dancing and partying, he could head up early and play a game.

He quickly refused and you assumed Kuroo had told him off if he dared even breath an air about any of his games. The wedding had had everything you had wanted, it was every brides dream to have such an over-the-top wedding. It was all down to the money that both you and Kenma had saved and especially Kenma’s because who wouldn’t want their future wife to have the fairy-tale wedding they wanted.

You sat at the bar, Kuroo talking as you saw Hinata and Kenma talking on the other side. Kuroo passed you a drink trying to not spill it on your reception dress, it was a lot more moveable and freeing than your ceremony dress. Kenma loved seeing you in it, his mouth in awe as you walked towards him and all he could see was his future.

You had of course cried but kept it undercover to not ruin your make up, all in all everything had worked out and seeing most of the drunk guests had made it all the better.

“Here, I got you some sweets.” Kuroo passed a packet of what looked like jellied sweets. “I know you haven’t eaten that much.”

He passed you the packet you shrugged taking a couple, “mmm these are nice, I’m going to give some to Kenma.”

He nods a smirk on his face which you ignore easily, you make your way through the guests, some congratulations which made you stop and eat even more sweets whilst conversing with them. You finally go to Kenma, a smile on his face with his long hair creeping down his suit, he had taken the tie off and unbuttoned the top buttons to show his collar.

It looked ever so pretty, so kissable, you giggled walking towards him, he raises an eyebrow just as you stop in front of him, “kitten, is everything all right?”

“Kuroo got me some sweets, have some?” You pushed the packet to his face, he shook his head before taking the bag putting it to his mouth, as he chewed the rest of them. “Hey, they were my sweets.”

You pouted but as soon as you touched his arm you felt a lust wash over you, he looked at you with kindness in his face before grabbing a hold of your jaw, bringing his mouth to your ear. “I never told you how beautiful you looked today.”

You laugh leaning against his body, “Baby, you’ve told me multiple times today.”

He gives a hefty laugh before taking your hand, “let’s get out of here.”

“You want to leave our own wedding early.”

He makes your jaw move to his neck; you comply kissing his neck occasionally. “It’s not leaving early, we’ll be back.”

You roll your eyes, letting him lead the way, you left the venue as quickly as you could, glad that the hotel was just opposite, it was fancy and way to flashy for anything small, but for your wedding night it was perfect.

The chilly air had hit your exposed arms, Kenma putting his suit jacket around. His smell lingered around you as you snuggled in the jacket, he took his key card from the pocket, his hands lingering on your waist. He smiled taking your hand to the elevator, standing behind you as he face went to your neck. In an instant, his lips lingered along your collar, moving up towards your jaw, your head arched to his shoulder, wanting more of his lips.

The door quickly opened, and he almost dragged you to the hotel room, it was perfect and big, and the bed looked comfortable enough for what was about to happen. He held your waist softly, before kissing you. His lips leaving the lingering taste of those sweets Kuroo had gotten you, he put you on the bed, taking the jacket off before slowly unbuttoning his shirt.

You giggled feeling intoxicated even without being drunk, a rush filled through you, you leant against your arms, watching his strip his shirt off, his chest on show for you. He didn’t say anything, going to the floor before moving your dress up and finding his face at your thighs.

“Ken…” You were about to speak but felt his hands attach to his inner thighs, encased in the fabric you couldn’t see his action, but the movement of your underwear was all you needed before you felt his tongue brush in the insides of your walls.

The slick already coming from your cunt, “already wet for me.” He murmurs before devouring you, you couldn’t speak, heavy moans flowing out for your mouth. “Kitten, moan for me.”

He continues to use his tongue inside of you, you wanted to grab onto his hair but used the next best thing, your legs twitching, crushing his head between your thighs. His movement was quick, and he kept his mouth on you, sucking your insides like some sort of drink. He kept on going at it, the lewd moans erupting from your mouth, before you felt the slick becoming heavier and heavier, knowing that you were about to cum.

“I’m…I’m going to c…cum.”

He sucks and eats you one more time before the cum fell out from your cunt, the way you felt his mouth try and capture the orgasm from your cunt, it gushed out and you felt some dribble down your thigh. He came out from under your dress, his face freshly wet. He smirked seeing your faint look already from only cumming once. “How many times should I make you cum tonight, kitten, lets make it a game.”

He kissed you again, you could taste your cum before he quickly helped you take the dress off. It fell easily, Kenma watching how your body looked and felt against his own. He began to speak as you were left in your bra, he slowly un did it, his fingers moving up and down your back. “If I make you cum three more times then I win.”

“Yes master.” You spoke with ease, the words falling out of your mouth. He wanted to make you feel everything tonight not just as his newlywed wife but as his future.

He grinned from ear to ear, he enjoyed the word it made him feel like a game master making the decisions and he was definitely making the shots tonight. He pushed you against the headboard, your body on show as he un did his trousers that had gotten tighter, the bulge prominent.

You took a deep breath watching as he encased his hands in a cage around your body. You felt ever so small against his frame, but he didn’t care he kissed you with pace again, his hands moving to your breasts, massaging and softly flicking his fingers against your hard nipples. “You’re going to be a good little kitten for me.”

“Yes.” You moaned, it was heaven in his ears, he wanted to keep hearing you moan, especially his name.

He quickly removed his boxers, a lack of warning as he pushed his cock between your thighs, “my little kitten.” You felt his body press against your own, the way his cock jolted inside of your cunt.

“Kenma.” You moaned as his thick cock filled your entire cunt, you felt suffocated but loved it, his lips pressing to your neck and chest, your own hands moving to his soft long hair. You grabbed at it tugging as he began to thrust, it was quicker and faster almost needy like the first time you had ever had sex.

His thrusts going deeper and deeper each time, your legs almost wrapping behind his own. You just wanted to encase him, make him go deeper, you moaned his name continuously, “come on kitten, being a g…good girl.” He moaned out himself, his continuous blabbering as his pace quickened even more.

“I want more.” You whisper in his ear, the three words making his thrust deeper inside of you. You could feel him hit you, almost see the indent in your stomach, even after the continuous moans his pace remained consistent. He normally would be able to go for at least two rounds, but the amount of energy he was exerting made him believe he was able to go for twenty if you wanted too.

You kissed his neck, sucking at his pale skin, you loved how easily it was to mark his skin and under the soft candles that surrounded the room. You felt in heaven, he moved one of his fingers to your clit, playing with it before feeling the slick, he brought it in his fingers before shoving it in your mouth, his thrusts quickening as he knew you were ready to cum.

You sucked on his fingers, feeling filthy and dirty but enjoying it all. He loved the way your tongue would swirl around his fingers, sucking at it, the knot in your stomach was beginning to untie and quickly you heard Kenma speak, “cumming so quickly, kitten, let’s make you cum another time.”

He mutters, having not cummed at all, just wanting to bring you pleasure, his thrusts began to become sloppier as he felt all the cum from you gush out of your sweet cunt. It dripped down your thighs, but he kept on going. “You’re going to cum with me next time.” You nod not being able to speak, his pace quickening again.

He grabbed a hold of your throat, his fingers moving away from your mouth, going to your hair. He brushed it to the side, admiring you whilst thrusting back and forth. His hand on your throat tightened as you felt more entrapped in his body. You moaned whilst he admired your body, your face, how pretty his wife was.

“You’re going to make your husband cum, aren’t you.” He was almost taunting you whilst up in your ear, he bit your ear lobe, another moan engraving the air.

The continuous moans crept out from your mouth, the growls and grunts from his own, he wanted to win, and he would do anything to do so. But the quick pace he had, the furious way you could almost imagine the marks around your throat and how his hand moved to play with your nipples.

You felt bruised and fucked to the core…literally. His thrusts became sloppier your first two times cumming already making it easier for his cock to stretch you out even more. He moved his mouth to your ear, you could feel his heavy breath against you, feel him moan your name. “You’re gonna make me cum, good girl.”

The praise made your insides warm up, but you could feel yourself cum again. “I need to cum.” You seethe out, he smirks looking at you directly, his hand grabbing your jaw to face you.

“Cum with me.” He whispers as you both cum together, the feeling of the slick falling down your thighs, the way your insides felt filled with the white liquid. “My perfect wife.”

You felt giddy but tired, “I win.” He praises himself.

“You win.” You murmur, he had collapsed beside you, his arm wrapping around your naked body, sweat and cum filling the air as your head laid on his chest.

You felt the sound of his phone go off, he muttered some profanities, moving his hand to where his jacket had been chucked on the bed. Taking his phone, he saw Kuroo’s name pop up. “I don’t want to go back.” You spoke tiredly.

You closed your eyes as Kenma answered the call, putting it on speaker. “Oi, did you two have some fun.”

You smirked knowing Kuroo was teasing the gamer boy. “Fuck off Kuroo.”

“Wow, it must have been amazing, is Y/n sore.” You laughed wanting to speak but unable to, Kenma’s hands moved to your hair playing with the few sweaty strands against your forehead.

“Kuroo I real…”

Kuroo quickly interrupted you could almost feel his smirk on the other line, “did you two eat all those sweets?”

“Yeah, so?” You speak wastefully.

He laughs before passing the phone to Bokuto, “Oi, Bokuto, they ate all the sweets, idiots.”

You and Kenma were both confused, he went to grab his jacket trying to find the packet which he had shoved down his pocket. He looked at the label pissed off, “surprise it’s a wedding present.”

Kuroo laughed as Bokuto was in hysterics, “what is it?” You questioned confused but content with your husband.

“We got you them, we thought you wouldn’t eat them all duh.” Kuroo laughed out, Kenma passed the packet and shock was ridden on your face.

“Kuroo that is not a wedding present, it’s a death wish.” You scolded out even though the night was the best wedding sex you’d ever had.

“I’m going to kill you.” Kenma seethed out.

“No you’re not, now go have some more fun.” Kuroo hanged up the call, Kenma chucking his phone before rubbing his face, he looked down at how perfect his wife was, and he didn’t care that Kuroo had gotten aphrodisiacs sweets for the two of you.

“Round two?” He smirked out.

You laughed, moving your body up, to reach his face. “You want to beat 3 times.”

“Yeah, I haven to become the ultimate games master.” You laughed encasing his lips in a soft kiss, it wasn’t filled with lust or need, it was your future and you both knew the rest of your lives had started. Together.

 i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

if you guys want to be a part of a tag list, just reply to any post and i’ll add you xx

@samusimp @alainarose13 @crispychannie @underratedmage @jennammaee @cathy8taffy @sugacious @moonlightaangel @kat-sukis-hoe @effmigentlywithachainsaw @swankiifiied @maat-the-prescriptive @missmultifangirl @tvwhoresblog @kuroos-world

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

We've Got Tonight - Ch 3

Summary: “It’s not your job to do this, Andy. You make people happy. I was in the diner all of ten minutes, and you knew exactly how to get me to smile. You do normal, real things like garden and sing karaoke. Saving the world is my job, Sam’s job. Sometimes it’s even Cas’s job, but it’s not yours.”

Inspired by Bob Seger’s “We’ve Got Tonight”

Warnings: Major Character Death, More Major Character Deaths (sort of?), higher than show level violence, blood, light smutting, language, demons, apocalypse, inferred suicide, cult activity.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: This story is set hazily around season 8. Just squint a little, and it’ll settle in somewhere. I wrote this story after certain big revelations in the show, but before other big ones; you’ll most likely be able to tell which. I play with time a bit in the story itself, so if things seem out of order, they are. Hopefully, by the end, all the pieces will fit together.

What the hell, let’s give it a shot.

Image and major edits by the incomparable @there-must-be-a-lock . Heavy editing and cheering by @thoughtslikeaminefield . Thank you both so much.

Word Count: Ch 3 - 1637

In case you missed it: Chapter 2 ItMightHaveBeenintentional’s Masterlist

...

We’ve Got Tonight

Chapter 3

One month is not enough time to get used to nights in the bunker, she thinks as she stares at the back of Dean’s door. It’s too sterile, too unnatural, with the quiet permeating every crevice and recess.

There must be some sort of muffling spell or noise cancellation technology… or maybe just really good insulation. She’s used to the chatter of customers, the ding of the door chime, the clatter of plates, and the sloshing of the dishwasher. She’s never had to listen to herself think this much before, and she freely admits she is not a fan.

It’s been about four hours since Dean stormed out. “I’m done,” he said, but she doubts she’ll have to wait much longer. Those last words he shouted before Castiel came in, the way he gripped her and she had to force herself not to cling right back, tells her they aren’t finished, either with their argument or each other.

Muffled footsteps, the only sound besides her heart beat and non-stop internal monologue, let her know moments before the doorknob turns that Dean is back. The door swings open, not with the angry force she’s expecting, but with the same weary resignation that bows his shoulders as he steps into his room and shrugs off his jacket.

His eyes meet hers for an eternity, then he deliberately takes two more steps forward and closes the door firmly behind him.

She’s in his arms without a moment’s hesitation, her mouth on his, devouring him with every bit of desperation she possesses. He tastes of scotch, and she can picture him sitting despondently at the local watering hole, glaring balefully at a single glass of liquor for hours.

His arms constrict automatically until she’s equally breathless from his embrace as she is from the kiss. Just when she thinks he may have to physically hold her up, Dean pulls away just far enough to stare hard into her eyes, his expression daring her to challenge his next words.

“We are not done talking. You are going to tell me every detail of your deal, whether you like it or not. And don’t think for a second I’m going to let you go through with it. Choices be damned, Andy, this isn’t just about you anymore, and you know it.”

She refrains from telling him how much of a dad vibe he’s giving off as she shoves his flannel from his shoulders and pulls his face back to hers, clenching a handful of his t-shirt in a death grip.

Neither of them is gentle as they remove clothing and stagger their way to his bed; she knows they don’t have the time to be, and he suspects as much but doesn’t say so aloud. Neither is willing to ruin their precious remaining moments together by bringing up something as distasteful as reality. Nails score flesh, fingers bruise limbs, even their lips come away with faint traces of blood from accidental clashes with teeth.

“How long?” he rasps, his lips ghosting over her sternum. Her nails dredge shallow furrows across the backs of his thighs as he pulls back before thrusting hard, driving her into his mattress. “How long have we got?”

She tugs his mouth down to her breast, hissing as his teeth scrape and tug. Her fingers thread into his hair, holding him in place, silently willing him to let the subject go. She can’t answer him. She’s had a month with him, and while she’d rather have something closer to a lifetime, all she’s asking now is two more uninterrupted, untainted hours.

If she tells him, then the shortness of their time becomes real, everything becomes devastatingly real. Here in the bunker that is far too quiet for her own peace of mind, she can pretend the outside world and all it’s insane occultists and apocalypses and demons and deals don’t exist. She can pretend it’s just her and Dean, and nothing else bad is waiting on the other side of the horizon.

And he’d try to stop her. And probably succeed. So, no. She can’t tell him.

It’s some time before both of them are sated enough to lie relatively still. She keeps her back to him, knowing if she looks in his eyes she is liable to spill every bit of information she has left, and she does not want a repeat of the scene from earlier. Once was more than enough.

“I’m waiting, Andy.”

We all have to learn to live with disappointment, hun, she thinks. Aloud, she sighs and pushes herself back until her shoulder blades press against his chest. She’s been cold since they first brought her to the bunker, and his warmth is almost enough to make her forget that she’s chilled to her marrow. She shivers, forcing a partition up in her mind to keep out thoughts of her impending departure. She’s going to wait until he’s asleep, then head out to make the last rendezvous.

Sunrise, Dean, she thinks, despite her best efforts. I’ve got til sunrise. We’ve got less than that.

Luckily, she’s had enough caffeine to give a draft horse the shakes, and he’s running on three hours sleep for the last couple of days, so he should pass out pretty soon. The last thing she needs is the infamous Winchester Interference with her plans.

With the confidence that comes from knowing she’s right at the end of everything, Andy rolls over and pulls Dean’s head down so his cheek rests between her breasts, cradling him like a child and stroking his hair just as she’s longed to do since he strolled into her diner and winked at her over a stack of pancakes. He doesn’t protest, doesn’t even pretend to resist, instead nuzzling deeper in her embrace, and that’s when she really knows she’s wounded him far more deeply than she should have been capable.

“It was only supposed to be a fling,” she remarks to the top of his head as she runs her nails over the base of his skull. He shivers, pulling the blanket over them up to his chin and sliding his arms around her waist. His shoulder lies on her stomach, its weight sitting comfortably against her belly. “The first time I met you, you declared your love for me because I brought you bacon, for God’s sake. At four in the afternoon. You were supposed to be a good time, Dean, one good night, and then ride on out of town like a good boy.”

“You’d already be dead if you hadn’t given me your number,” he points out. For once, his lascivious nature is dormant, and he doesn’t so much as sneak a stray lick or grope, despite his optimal position. She strokes her thumb down the side of his jaw, scrubbing over several days’ worth of stubble that covers his cheeks. He turns his face into her touch, sliding his nose against the sensitive skin under her breast, and then it’s her turn to shiver.

“Andy, before you do anything stupid, anything else stupid, I need to tell you...I need you to know that I...”

“No, you don’t,” she chides, cutting him off before he can choke out any more ill-advised words. She can’t hear them right now, they would break down every barrier and barricade she’s constructed to hold herself together for these last hours. And, anyway, he can’t possibly mean them. They barely know each other. “But you could. I think both of us might have, eventually. So, we have that, at least.”

Her ribs creak at the sudden tightening of his grip, and she squirms until he relents enough to allow her breathing to return to normal.

“It’s not your job to do this, Andy. You make people happy. I was in the diner all of ten minutes, and you knew exactly how to get me to smile. You do normal, real things like garden and sing karaoke. Saving the world is my job, Sam’s job. Sometimes it’s even Cas’s job, but it’s not yours.”

His words end on something that she would never in a thousand years tell him sounds like a crack. She silently strokes the velvety hairs on the back of his neck, waiting for him to finish clearing his throat.

“Don’t try to be the hero; it never works out for anyone involved, even the people you’re trying to save.”

“Don’t start with me, Dean Winchester. Here we are, having a nice moment, and I will not let you ruin the time we have left with arbitrary things like depth and honesty.”

The air system hisses soothingly in the background, but she won’t let herself be soothed. This time left is for him, she’s not fooling herself about that any longer. What does she have left but Dean, anyway? She’s got three, four hours left at the most, and this is how she chooses to spend them.

She rolls once more, pulling Dean underneath her until she lies atop him, flush from collarbone to ankles. He watches her, his face soft and open for once, golden and warm in the dim light of the little bedside lamp. His hands move slowly, reverently, to glide over the curve of her jaw and mouth, and she can feel the faint tremors that run through his hands. She kisses his fingers one at a time before lifting her eyes to his.

“No, you don’t,” she repeats, “But you could.” The world needs the Winchesters around a hell of a lot more than it needs her. And while she might make people happy, saving people and hunting things is the Winchesters’ family business. This is her only chance to make sure they and the world stick around long enough for that to keep happening. ...

Chapter 4

[ziracona]

[Very excited for the next bit & hopefully life quits kicking my butt soon so I can get it done. Anyway, an update.]

The Kid (pt: 1, … 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, ?) [Fate Grand Order AU]

Adrenaline pumping so fast I think I might puke, my hand is already up and I’m halfway to shouting Billy’s name to summon him when the door opens again.

I stop, unused command seal on my lips, and stare as it shuts again and locks, then opens quick. It. OH.

I feel my face on fire as it clicks. I am so glad no one was here to see this. It must automatically lock—must have been locking every time it shut. The pattern is just repeating again, and I couldn’t see the lock from the other side.

Okay. Okay… I make myself take a long, deep breath. You’re okay.

It’s…funny. I wasn’t scared at all until I was alone, and now I’m…completely freaked, I think. …Maybe I was scared before, too, but not like this. It’s okay. You can call for help if you need it. You know they’re all depending on you, so you have to do a good job. You can do this, Ritsuka. Come on1

Right. So. I’m okay. Whoever opened the door is not trying to lock me in, as far as I know anyway. Why did they call me?

Remembering I haven’t, I turn and look at the room behind me. It’s lit, but only dimly. It…kind of looks like a hospital room? But. An old one, and not a very nice one. Like they do in movies from earlier times. There’s almost…a replica of a room? Built into the middle of this one. It’s…like in Mission Impossible movies, when they finish tricking someone and pull down the walls and it wasn’t really a hotel room at all. There’s two windows, and I can’t exactly see what’s in the room from where I am, but I can tell that whoever is in there is seeing little medical set pieces left outside them. This is weird.

It's…way more elaborate than any of the others have been. That seems really strange. Are they actually trying to trick whoever is in there?

I can’t think of another reason to do this.

And there is someone in there, right? There’s gotta be. Or, why would I be getting a call for help? So, a heroic spirit, in a really weird death trap? One that is tricking them into thinking they’re somewhere else. That’s…meaner, somehow, I think. I feel a pang in my chest at the guesses I’m making in my head. I hate this—I hate all of this. I just can’t understand why they’re doing it at all. It’s all been bad since that moment I first saw Billy from across a room, but I really can’t get the way the Lancer looked out of my head. I keep wondering how it would feel to be alive and see your guts hanging out on the ground, and I hate that thought—it makes me sick imagining it, but I can’t stop. And he did—he lived that for real! Minutes ago. Minutes ago, he was hanging there with his guts on the ground and a pole through his stomach. He felt all of that, all of it. For he said two and a half days. I…I can’t even…begin to imagine…

And. ...The other thing is, I also keep thinking that none of the spirits liked it, when they saw him like that, but, none of them seemed really…surprised. I wonder. …I wonder if that means this isn’t so different from other things that happen to them. I. I really hope it is—I hope this is nothing like what normally happens, and I’m just making a big deal of nothing in my head. I hope the worst of it is being bossed around and made to fight, because that’s bad enough. But.

I…might not be experienced, but. I’m not stupid. And…I know it’s more than that…

I know it’s worse…

Okay. Come on. Time for this later. Get moving! It’s about them and you want to help them, so let’s go—let’s help! You got this.

Shaking myself internally, I give the stuff around me a quick glance. First thing, better let the person opening the door know they can stop—that’ll eventually draw attention. Whoever it is can’t see me, in Robin’s cloak, and I’m a little afraid to take it off, so…

Settling on a nearby medical cabinet prop, I walk over and open one of the drawers a few times. It works. Whoever it is might not see me, but they can sure see the ghost cabinet, and they take the hint. The door closes and stays shut, which…is unsettling, but. I pretty much just asked for them to do that, so. It’s probably okay. And if anything seems off, I can call for backup. Whoever is out there asked for my help, though, so I’m gonna believe that was sincere until I have proof otherwise, and I’m gonna try.

Turning, I go slowly towards the little mock room ahead, and hesitate at the door. It doesn’t have a window, but it has an old-fashioned keyhole, so I stoop and peer inside. It’s not a good angle, but I can make out a hospital bed in there, with a body on it. I think their eyes are open, but they’re perfectly still. There’s something unsettling about the sight, even after everything I’ve seen today. And there’s…something else. A weird…heaviness, to the room. Some kind of mana, I think, but I don’t know enough about magic to tell what it is. I do know enough to be able to tell whatever it is, isn’t good.

I consider my options. I can still hear fighting faintly above me, so I shouldn’t call for help unless I need it—I might mess them up. I could wait, but now that they know we’re here, they might start killing the spirits they have. So…I should go ahead and go in alone. It’s not like I haven’t done that before. And…it should be fine. If I explain who I am, I think I’ll be safe, and if anything starts to go wrong, I’ll call for help.

My heart’s thudding in my chest so much I feel like throwing up, but I clench my fist and bring it in tight against my chest, then reach my hands up and pull off the hood of Robin’s cloak. I’m not totally sure how it works, and if it’s the action, or the fact I want to stop being invisible, but I see myself again as I do it. No going back I guess. If I’m on camera, I’m on camera. I pause to take a deep breath, and turn the knob.

It isn’t locked.

The door swings open, and before me, I can clearly make out now what looks like a pretty convincing old-fashioned hospital room. Not…in a good way. There are bars over the windows, and straps on the bed, for holding patients down, and here’s a man on the bed, held in place by them.

It…it feels so unnecessary. He looks ill, like he probably would have trouble getting up off the bed no matter what, and a little old. White hair, but a face not as old as I expect with it. I have a hard time telling how old adult people are when they’re between 40 and 70, and he seems not at the older end of that spectrum, but at first glance I thought for a moment he was older. His face is haggard, worn out like he’s on the verge of death. Huge bags under his eyes, gaunt features, and his eyes themselves are milky and vacant. There’s…something really wrong with him. He’s got a bandage on his head too, and one around his throat, both blead-through a little. What…happened to you?

He doesn’t seem to see me at first. Just keeps staring blankly towards one of the fake windows, then slowly turns his head and his empty eyes towards me.

Something changes. The haze drops, if just a little, and I can see life deep beneath the clouds in his eyes.

“A child?” he asks me. His voice is damaged, from whatever happened to his throat, and he sounds weak, but the thing that stands out isn’t that, it’s how his voice itself sounds. There’s an air I’ve only ever heard from teachers, the good ones—a kind of sophisticated and educated and understanding way of talking that makes them sound smart and kind and good to be around all at the same time. “What are you doing here?”

He tries to smile at me. He looks so weak, it’s pitiful.

“…” I can’t find my voice. I swallow, take a step closer, and try again. “I’m. Ritsuka, Fujimaru—I came here to try to help.”

“Help?” he echoes, confused. There’s…so much pain in his voice too. Like being sad is a part of who he is.

“To—get you out of here,” I manage, taking another step.

His brows knit in weak confusion. “Do I know you?”

“No, but I’m here to help everyone trapped in here anyway,” I answer.

He smiles a little, sadly, and shuts his eyes for a moment, breathing taking immense effort. “That’s very kind of you. It’s not the most comforting place to end a life.” He speaks and his voice has that same tone, gentle, and overflowing with pain. “But I don’t think there’s a lot more you can do for any of us. Than come to visit.” He opens his eyes again and turns his head weakly to look at me. “Which is always nice. It can get lonely in a place like this.”

I don’t. Understand? He.

“You want to get out, right?” I ask, taken aback.

“Of course,” he answers simply, shutting his eyes again, voice and breaths raspy, “But it’s not that simple. I have to be here now, and it won’t be much longer.” He smiles to himself again. “You’re kind to worry for us.”

He sounds like he really means that. I’m so confused—unless—?

Thoughts racing, I take in the room again, the attention to detail. I try hard to focus on the heaviness in the room; I’ve never been good at sensing magic, but I give it everything I’ve got, and I can tell something is not just in the room, it’s on him. A curse? A spell? Maybe…If I can find it, I can…

Taking a step to try and see him up close, he hears me moving and opens his eyes and turns to look. Seeing me, he looks surprised.

“Hello there, little one. What are you doing in a place like this?”

I stop and stare.

“Are you alright?” he asks, concerned.

“We…just talked—do you not remember me?” I ask. My voice sounds so small it surprises me. I see his face fall. He looks…some kind of very deep sad, like that question cut to his core.

“I’m sorry,” he says, eyes moving to look at something that isn’t me, “My memory isn’t what it was.” He tries to smile at me and looks back again. “What brings someone like you to a place like this?”

“I came…to help you,” I reply meekly. There’s no recognition in his eyes. Just mild surprise again.

What did they. …Why did they...

“Sir,” I say, taking another step, “Do you know that you’re a heroic spirit?”

I think he almost laughs, and I can see in his face he has no idea not only what he is, but what a heroic spirit is at all. “I appreciate the compliment, but there’s really nothing heroic about me,” he says like he’s found my question very sweet.

Oh boy. What do I do? I don’t know complex magic. I can’t…I can’t fix this on my own, unless, if I can get him to contract, I could with a command spell, but. If he doesn’t even know what heroic spirits are, he’ll never agree! He won’t even be able to. And, if I try to explain, and he thinks what I’m doing is super weird, he might freak out, and- …Okay, okay, come on, think. Stay cool.

“What happened?” I ask, indicating his injuries as I move closer. I’m almost at the bedside now, and there’s a little metal chair there. I move it beside him and sit down, like I really am someone who came to visit a hospital room.

No. Not hospital. Asylum.

His face loses the little color it had.

“I’m sorry—I—maybe that’s too personal,” I say quickly, feeling very bad, “I shouldn’t have asked.”

He gives me a kindly smile. “Fell,” he answers, and he tries to indicate I think the head wound, but can’t because he’s strapped down, and I see surprise and then pain and shame with it register on his face as he looks down at himself. You forgot. That too…

“What’s your name?” I ask, hoping to distract him.

It sort of works. He glances back at me, surprised again. “You don’t know me? Are you just visiting everyone here today?”

“Yes,” I answer, because in a way that’s true.

He smiles. There’s barely anything but skin and bones on his face. He looks so ill I believe what he said earlier, about how it wouldn’t be much longer. “That’s kind of you,” he says again, “I’m sure it will cheer all of us up. It can get a little boring around here, the days long.”

The thought of how true that must be is agonizing. It makes me want to cry. Whoever he was, this must have been how he died, a long time ago. Alone, hurt, and with a broken memory, in an asylum. I can’t think of many lonelier ways to go.

“My name is Antonio,” he says. He must have been some kind of teacher, the way he sounds proud and welcoming at once saying his own name.

“I’m Ritsuka,” I introduce myself again, “Fujimaru.”

“Ritsuka,” he echoes, curious, “Where are you from?”

“Japan,” I answer.

“Your Italian is perfect—even the accent,” he says.

“We aren’t speaking Italian,” I say before I can think not to.

Something cracks in his face. He winces, almost like a full-body tick. His eyes get vacant, and then very, very alive for just a moment, and there’s horror in them.

“I,” he says, faltering. Listening. “Sto…parlando Italiano…No.”

Crap. Crap crap crap.

He looks at me, terrified. Right on the edge of understanding something, and unable to make it.

“What am I?” he begs me in his broken voice. It’s not what I thought he’d say, and I am completely lost in how to answer him. “Who?” He tries to move his hands again, and can’t and in despair tries to rip them free. Failing again, he turns back to me, desperate. “Please!”

“It’s okay—it’s okay--I’m here to help you!” I promise. I can’t stand the way he’s looking at me like I’m doing this and he’s begging me to stop. I would never. “I know this is confusing—I don’t know what they did to you, but they messed with your head.”

“My?” He tries to move a hand again, already having forgotten, and looks down in despair at the restraints, then me.

“Here,” I say quickly, and I unthread the ones around his wrists, then chest. Still unbelievably weak, he raises a shaking hand to his head and feels it, wincing, then brings it down to his neck and leaves it there.

Staring into space, confused and horrified, and out of it.

“Antonio?” I try.

He glances at me again, distracted, but more awake than he was.

“I can help you, but I need you to trust me to do it.” I look at my hand, then hold it out to him, palm-up. “You’re still you, whoever you were before. You’re still Antonio. But it’s later than you think, and you’re a little different too. I can explain, but I think if you trust me, I can fix what they did to you, and you’ll be able to remember on your own. That way will make a lot more sense.”

“Trust you,” he echoes, and I see the fog starting to settle back over his eyes, his previously terrified posture starting to go slack.

“No-no-no-no, hey!” I say, reaching over and putting a hand on his shoulder.

That does something, and he blinks and looks at my hand. I’m so afraid he’s going to ask me who I am again, but instead he says, “What?” in a kind of out of it voice.

Crap crap I’m gonna lose him.

“Listen to me. I’m speaking Japanese right now, and so are you. This place?” I say, letting go and hopping up, idea formed, “It’s not real—You’re not where you think!” I run at the nearest wall and slam into it, and it topples back like the set piece it is, and he watches in horror and jerks when it thuds against the floor, then stares at the room past it in alarm. “You’re being kept here against your will, and the people who did this are messing with your head! I can help you—I came here to help, but you have to trust me.”

Face ashy, he focuses back on me.

“If you form a pact with me, I can help you,” I say more calmly, going to sit back down.

“I don’t-“ he starts, and then he winces again, that full-body kind of jerk, like something has cracked inside him, and when he looks at me again, the fog has receded a little. “I’m…you said, ‘heroic spirit.’ I’m…dead. …I’m…I’m not…Antoino… I am…I’m…I…”

I’m losing him again and he’s staring at the wall. I reach over and put my hands on his and that snaps him out and he looks at me again. “You are. You’re Antonio. You’re Antonio…?”

“Salieri,” he says almost vacantly, but his eyes are still alive, and holding mine. I can see him deep in there past whatever Ur-shanabi’s done to him, fighting.

“You’re Antonio Salieri,” I echo, “And you’re a heroic spirit. If you form a contract with me, I can help you. I’ll try to anyway, if you don’t want to, but I’m not very good at magic. I’ll do my best, but I swear, if you are willing to form a contract, I won’t do anything to hurt you—I’m only here to try—”

There’s a loud sound between a thud and a hum, and we both look up towards the source of it. Something in the ceiling?

Huh.

I was so used to the sound of it, I hadn’t even realized the bedframe itself was making a low-pitched humming as well, but it shuts off and I am immediately aware of the absence of it. We both look in unison again, down at the bedframe, and I see Antonio’s brow furrow in confusion, and then he holds up a hand, and I realize it’s not completely opaque.

It's already not completely opaque.

No. No!

“They pulled the plug!” I say desperately, and he turns his head to look at me again. Whatever they did to make him like this, it must not have been connected to his power source, because he’s just as out of it as before. This is all wrong and he’ll be dead in a few seconds, as fast as he’s starting to vanish! I have to—“Please—hurry—if you vanish they’ll summon you back! I can ground-“

His expression changes entirely.

In an instant, the fog is gone and the welcoming calmness and kindness is gone and his expression is hard and volatile.

I was wrong—whatever curse was on him was connected to his power source, because it is gone now, and it’s like he’s not even the same person he was a moment before. He looks into my face and I’m scared of him. No, I think…I think I’m terrified of this person. He looks like death—he looks like hate—looks like them in a way I had no idea person could look. Like they’re not what he’s feeling, they’re what he is. Meeting his gaze makes me scared he’s going to snap me between his fingers, and not even for any personal reason, just because it’s his nature. But then I’m past that in his eyes, and behind it is the same thing I saw before. The same person, deep beneath it. Kind and intelligent and composed. Like he’s wearing a terrifying Halloween costume over who he really is.

And I’m okay.

I think he sees that, sees all of it, and he looks…hurt and touched and a little surprised, all at the same time. He glances down at me, and then holds out a transparent hand, palm-up.

“I am not much of a servant,” he warns me, and he sounds harder than before, colder, and sharp, but the teacher tone is still there. The one that says ‘I will show you how to do it right even if it takes a long time, don’t worry. Come take a seat,’ all patient, and kind, and knowledgeable. Layered beneath the new tone, the same way the look in his eyes was. “I’ll warn you ahead of time that I’m dangerous to be around, and I haven’t much power to offer you, but if you still want a contract with a servant like me, I will accept your offer.”

“Of course I do,” I say without hesitation, and I take his hand, “But I don’t want a servant. I want a partner.”

He tilts his head like this is unexpected, but somehow his face doesn’t look too surprised, and he closes his vanishing fingertips around mine.

“My soul becomes your will, your spirit becomes my destiny. If you hear me and accept my call, then bind to me-“ I realize I have no idea what his class is and look to him.

“Avenger,” he says in that broken, sad voice, but he has a weak smile on his face.

‘Avenger’? “-Avenger,” I finish.

“I accept,” he replies, and I feel a tug on my chest and flood of mana, and I thought I’d be fine because I’m getting used to this, but I forgot I’m kind of beat right now, and I think I pass out—only for a second, but I’m upright, and then I’m face-first on the bed, no idea how I got there, the Avenger gently helping me back up.

I feel awful, but he’s solid again, mostly, and looking better. I mentally check to make sure everyone I have a contract with is still alive, and I feel all the connections going strong.

“Great,” I say weakly, grinning at him, “We did it.”

“Are you alright?” he asks.

“Mmm…hh..” I slump forward and pass out.

[wisteriashouse]

aflame (iii).

pairing: firefighter!rengoku kyoujurou x cook!reader

genre: fluff, modern! au

word count: 2374

iii. home visit

It’s absolutely freezing.

For the rest of the day after you had made up your mind to visit Kyoujurou’s house, you had been so nervous that you had proceeded to burn three eggs, serve a customer potatoes instead of tomatoes, and nearly set your stove on fire.

Kyoujurou would be disappointed.

Luckily for you, the customers had all happened to be your regulars, and so had been more interested about your ‘budding romance’ with Kyoujurou than getting upset. After an endless amount of teasing and you coming dangerously close to burning the pan, Aoi had finally decided to ban you from taking any orders.

“Just go and make some porridge for Rengoku-san. I’ll take care of the rest of the orders.” Aoi had said, shooing you out of the kitchen even as you had attempted to resist with all your might. “The dinner crowd has almost all been served, so I can manage the rest!”

And that’s how you had ended up here, with a large thermos of chicken soup and porridge in a bag, standing in front of an apartment complex in a part of town that you’d never been to before. Blowing on your chilly hands, you pull out the slip of paper from your pocket to check the address one more time. You swear that if you ever find out Shinazugawa-san has pranked you, you’re going to fill his ohagi with the sourest umeboshi you can find.

This is it.

The place looks rather well to do, you note as you step cautiously into the building, with nicely potted plants and ambient lighting in warm tones. You’re proud to say that you only missed the button in the elevator twice, both of which can be blamed on your freezing hands instead of how ridiculously nervous you feel the closer you get to his home.

“Unit twenty... unit twenty...” You mumble as you walk along the corridor, glancing up at the numbers on the doors. “Unit twenty should be right... here.” You stop before an apartment and glance up at the door.

Should you call him? What if he isn’t home? What if he’s asleep? Hesitant, you raise your hand to the doorbell and press once very gently, hoping that you aren’t disturbing his rest.

A few seconds of nerve-racking silence pass before there’s the sound of something falling over from inside the apartment, followed by a startled yelp of “aniki, you’re supposed to be in bed!”

Right, his message had mentioned a younger brother. You’d never really wondered if Kyoujurou had any siblings, but now that you think about it, he does seem to fit very well into the role of a big brother.

“It’s okay, it’s okay! Just focus on your homework, Senjurou!” A familiar voice calls out, and for a second, you desperately feel like running away as your nerves surge once again.

Your feet, however, stay rebelliously rooted to the ground.

Before you can take off at a sprint, the door swings open.

“Good evening, how can I help you–” Kyoujurou’s words trail off when he notices that it’s you standing at the door, wearing what’s possibly a painfully awkward expression on your face. He’s dressed in a pair of sweats and an oversized graphic tee with the words ‘Kimetsu Firefighting Crew’ on the front, his cheeks slightly flushed and hair thrown back in a messy ponytail.

He stares at you.

You try your best to smile naturally.

“G-good evening, Rengoku-san.” You manage to get out, trying your best not to stumble over your own words. Inside, you’re wringing your hands, wishing for the ground to just swallow you up whole. When his eyes lift slowly to meet yours, your breath catches in your throat.

How can one man look so beautiful even when he’s sick?

“Chef-san?” Kyoujurou’s voice is a little raspy, as though he’s spent the entire day asleep. It only serves to muddle your mind further with just how attractive he sounds. His eyes are wide with surprise. “What are you doing here?”

At his question, you swallow, nerves twisting uncomfortably in the pit of your stomach. “Well, you said you were sick and I was worried about you, so Aoi got your address from Shinazugawa-san earlier.” You hold out the bag, lips suddenly dry. “And you mentioned that you wanted to eat my cooking... so I brought some porridge and chicken soup over for you.”

Kyoujurou doesn’t answer for a few seconds, staring down at your proffered bag with his lips slightly parted. Unable to bear any more of this awkwardness, you thrust the bag into his hands with a forced ‘I hope you get well soon!’ and immediately turn on your heel in an attempt to flee. Before you can so much as take a step, however, you feel warm, callused fingers wrapping around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“Wait.”

His skin is so warm against yours.

“Your hands are freezing. I’m sorry that you had to come all the way here in this weather.” Your heart thumps wildly, breath trapped in your chest like a fluttering bird as Kyoujurou encases your hands in his larger ones. He brings them to his lips so that his breath dances hotly over your skin, golden eyes flickering up to meet your gaze. There’s something unreadable in their depths. “This might sound selfish of me, but would you mind if I say that it makes me terribly happy?”

What?

“Oh, brother, who is this?”

Wide golden eyes meet yours from under Kyoujurou’s arm and your first instinct is to squeal at how adorable his younger brother looks. The only downside to his appearance is that Kyoujurou’s hand releases yours gently to take the bag; you miss his warmth immediately. “Senjurou, this is–”

“Older brother, you didn’t tell me that you were dating someone!”

“This is Chef-san from that eatery I was telling you about – wait, what?”

“Wahh, it’s you! Brother talks about you a lot, so I feel like I know you already!” The miniature version of Kyoujurou chatters, his voice surprisingly low for a child. Aside from his voice, he almost looks like he could be a carbon copy of Kyoujurou, except that the lines of his face are gentler, his eyes softer. Right now, they shine with excitement, reminding you of a puppy wagging its tail. “It’s nice to finally meet you! I’m Rengoku Senjurou, aniki’s younger brother.”

Rengoku-san talks about you to his little brother? Hopefully only good things, you think nervously.

“Nice to meet you too, Senjurou.” You give a wave of greeting, heart in tiny pieces from just how radiant Senjurou’s smile is. Is it a Rengoku family trait? “Have you had dinner?”

“Not yet, I was going to microwave some leftover stew after finishing my homework. I wanted to brew him a soup,” he points at his older brother, “but he forbid me because I have an exam to study for tomorrow. He was whining about wanting to eat your food earlier, so I’m really glad you came!”

A surge of happiness rushes through you and you have to fight to contain your smile. “It’s no problem, really. I hope you enjoy the food I made, there’s enough for the two of you if you want it.” Having done what you’d set out to do today, you take a step back and wave, your heart light in your chest. “Then, I’ll be going first.”

“Have you eaten yet?” Kyoujurou’s sudden question takes you by surprise.

“Well, no, but I was intending to once I got home–”

“It’s getting late and you must be tired from working all day. Eat with us, I’m sure there’s enough for three.” Kyoujurou says, and you glance at him with wide eyes. His smile softens as he looks at you. “Please.”

How are you supposed to be able to resist him when he does that? Silently, you nod your head, not trusting your mouth to speak.

“That’s great! I’ll go set up the table.” Senjurou takes the bag of food and disappears into the apartment with a little skip in his step. Both you and Kyoujurou watch him scamper off, before Kyoujurou suddenly lets out a gentle chuckle. “For a moment there, I thought the two of you had forgotten about me. He’s been excited to meet you for awhile, but it seems that you get along amazingly well with him already. Thank you.”

“He’s a sweet child, there’s no need to thank me.” You hum, then turn to smile shyly at him. “Well, are you going to invite me in?”

“Oh, yes! Shoes at the door, come on in.”

The initial step into the Rengoku household is full of trepidation, but the warm and homely environment puts you at ease almost immediately. The walls of the hallway Kyoujurou guides you down is decorated with multiple pictures of the Rengoku family since Kyoujurou’s infancy, and you have to stop yourself from gushing over how cute he was. Further down the hallway, the largest portrait hanging on the wall catches your sight – a beautiful woman with long dark hair, dressed in a traditional kimono, hands folded in her lap and a serene expression on her face.

You can’t look away.

“Oh, that’s my mother.” Kyoujurou says, suddenly, and you turn to see him staring at the picture wistfully, a small smile on his face. You nod quietly. “She’s very beautiful. Is she home?”

“No, she passed away from an illness when I was younger.” Kyoujurou explains in reply, and you immediately hasten to apologise, horrified.

“I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking and ended up being insensitive!”

“It’s alright!” Kyoujurou reassures you brightly, grinning as usual once more. “You couldn’t have known. My mother was a lovely woman and a great cook, I would have liked to introduce you to her as well. Unfortunately, it seems that only Senjurou inherited her skills in the kitchen.” He chuckles a little at that. “I’ve never had much luck with a stove.”

You giggle slightly at his words, and Senjurou’s head suddenly pops out from behind the corner. “Brother, Chef-san, let’s eat! The food will get cold!”

The two of you share a smile, before following him to the kitchen.

After dinner, you insist on staying back to help wash the dishes with Senjurou, Kyoujurou shooed back to his room to rest in spite of his pleading to join the two of you. Perhaps it’s something to do with genetics, but the younger Rengoku son is remarkably easy to talk to, the two of you dissolving into casual chatter as you soap the dishes.

“Brother always talks about the new dishes you let him sample, I wish you could teach me how to make some of them too!” Senjurou tells you, rinsing some of the plates under the tap. You laugh. A corner of your heart flutters, unbearably shy at the thought. “Rengoku-san does? What does he say about them?”

“He says you’re the best cook in the world.” Senjurou babbles excitedly, and your face flushes at the unexpected praise. Sure, Kyoujurou has said that to you many times, but you thought that was just him being polite, or simply how he is to everybody. “And that your cooking is so delicious, it tastes just as good as Mother’s!”

You pause, turning to glance at Senjurou. The younger boy notices the shift in mood, the bright grin he’s wearing melting into something more nostalgic. “I was really young when our Mother passed away, so I don’t have many memories of her. But one day, Older Brother brought back some of your cooking to let me try, and he said it tastes just like Mother’s.” Senjurou’s gaze is gentle as he looks down at the soap suds swirling in the sink. “I feel closer to my Mother when I have your cooking, and I’m sure that Brother, who knew her for longer than I did, feels that even more strongly than I do.”

You look down at your soapy hands, lips pressed together in shock. Is that how much your cooking means to him? You never knew...

“Father was never around much after Mother died, so it was mostly Big Brother who raised me. He’s always taken good care of me, but because he’s so strong, no one really thinks that he needs support. Knowing that he takes comfort in your cooking makes me feel relieved. ” Senjurou continues, before he turns to look up at you with a hopeful smile. “That’s why... I hope you’ll keep cooking for him.”

“Mmn.” You hum, voice suddenly thick and your eyes prickling a little. A mixture of emotions swell in you. Senjurou suddenly looks alarmed, waving his hands. “Oh, I’m not saying that you have to or anything, I didn’t mean to force you to do something you might not want to – ”

“No, it’s alright. I love cooking for Rengoku-san too.” You smile at Senjurou and pat the top of his head. His face scrunches up cutely at your touch, before he beams back at you. “He saved my life, you know.”

Senjurou gasps. “Brother told me about it before! He’s so cool, I want to be like him when I grow up.” Suddenly, he glances at the doorway to the kitchen before leaning in close, hands cupped over his mouth conspiratorially. You bend down slightly to bring your ear closer to his lips, curious.

“You like Older Brother, don’t you?”

“W-Wha–” You panic instantly, nearly dropping the plate in your hands as you flail about. Senjurou giggles, clearly delighted at your response. “Am I really that obvious?”

Senjurou nods, and you bury your face in your hands, thoroughly embarrassed.

“Don’t tell him,” you squeak, unable to look him in the eye. Senjurou pats you on the head reassuringly.

“I won’t.”

A few more washed dishes later and a promise to teach Senjurou how to make baked sweet potatoes, you leave the Rengoku home with a heart far lighter than you’d come in with. On the way out, you catch a glimpse into Kyoujurou’s room – he’s curled up on his bed, arms wrapped around a pillow as he sleeps peacefully.

The sight alone makes the entire trip worth it.

[celosiaa]

hi friend!!! PLEASE keep in mind there is NO RUSH or ANY REQUIREMENT TO WRITE THIS IF YOU DON'T FEEL LIKE WRITING I'M JUST GIVING PROMPT BECAUSE YOU SAID YOU FEEL LIKE WRITING AND I LOVE YOUR WRITING!! what about canon-era POTS Jon? infections can cause really bad POTS flares (my understanding is that it lowers your BP). it could be after any of his many injuries, but even just a cold can mess with it. and ONLY IF YOU FEEL BORED AND UP TO WRITING <3 TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF!!

hello my dear!!!! you are going THROUGH IT right now!!!! I love you very very much and I hope that this fic will make your day a little brighter <3

So have a little Jon with the flu and a POTS flare up! And friends who love him!

CW nausea, fainting

This was a mistake.

Jon knows it, his body knows it—the entire train car probably knows it too. It’s barely a ten minute’s ride from his flat to the Institute, but it might as well have been an hour trapped in a boiler room for all he can tell. Suffocating, you’re suffocating—is the only message his brain will send him, as he sits squeezed in between two very unfortunate passengers on this snowy Monday morning, trying very hard both not to cough and to stop himself from tearing off his coat and scarf this instant.

Being ill always hits him hard—far harder than it has any right to; harder than he is willing to acknowledge, really—as it always seems to trigger his POTS in the most frustrating of ways. Last time he’d been ill, truly ill, Tim may have paid the price for his stubbornness more than he had himself. What with him refusing to do anything to look after himself, being caught by surprise by a fainting spell, and ending up dragging Tim to the A&E with him to be treated for a nasty head wound. This time around, he has actually taken several precautions, with his compression stockings on, a water bottle, and TENS unit in his bag, just in case the muscle aches from whatever hell bug he’s managed to catch compound the pain from his EDS.

Tim ought to be proud.

Mouth twisting in a smile in spite of himself, Jon resists the urge to bolt out of the train car as soon as the stop is announced, forcing himself instead to stand slowly and carefully before exiting.

—

As luck would have it, the lift had been broken down, forcing Jon to climb the flight of stairs up to the street. Legs nearly giving out on him before he could half-sit, mostly collapse onto the bench at the top, his chest heaves as he tries to convince his body not to faint. With somewhat limited success.

So long as the fading in and out of his vision is not followed by a lapse in awareness, he’ll be alright.

Suffocating suffocating

Whether rational or not, Jon has to pull of his coat and scarf right now, or he’s sure his brain will short out on him completely. He tears at it all as quickly as possible, fingers shaking over the large buttons of his peacoat. Anything to relieve the pressure on his chest, whether brought on by POTS or his congestion, he’s soon to find out. Preferably, he’d like to slow down his breathing a bit before coughing again, but there’s very little he can do to control that—and buries it all in the folds of his scarf, hoping to avoid as many stares from passers-by as possible.

The lightheadedness only bangs against his eyes again as the fit continues, forcing him to fold his legs beneath himself and bend forward in an effort to breathe, breathe. Surely it hadn’t been so bad this morning when he had stepped out of the door—he had been quite certain of his ability to control it enough to get by, and hopefully without raising the alarm about his health throughout the archives. By the sound of it, though, he just hadn’t been getting deep enough breaths to force it all out, as the crackling depth of it alarms even him.

All the same, after a few minutes of breathing deeply with marginally-clearer lungs, he feels finally able to look up again—even shuddering against the soft padding of snowflakes against his shoulders and greying hair, rather than panicking about being boiled alive by his own jacket.

He’ll take what improvement he can get.

Steeling himself to walk the block down to the Institute, Jon pulls up his compression stockings from where they had slipped a bit and pushes on.

—

“So I’m sitting there, right? I’m sitting there, barbecue sauce on my titties…”

“You were NOT!” Sasha bellows at Tim, struggling to raise her voice over the sound of Martin’s cackling. “Don’t encourage him, Martin, he always puts this in his fucking stories.”

“HEY! It’s true!! It could have happened more than once, you know.”

“God I hate you so much,” she shouts, sending both Martin and Tim for another round of uncontrollable laughter.

It’s the perfect opportunity for Jon—who exits the lift as quickly as he can, heading for his office with the all the single-mindedness of a particularly winded and dizzy man. Perfect, because no one saw him beyond a shadow darkening the doorstep. No one to raise the alarm as he sinks into his chair, trembling at the exertion of making the journey from the lobby to the basement.

Burying his face in his hands, he sniffs back against the congestion plaguing him, adjusts his position to take pressure off his throbbing legs, and tries to collect his scattered thoughts enough to get to work.

—

Spinning, spinning, spinning are the walls of his office around him, worsening with every cough he stifles into the sleeves of his cardigan. After the initial recovery period when he had finally been able to sit in his office, chest aching with exertion, he had truly felt alright for those first couple of hours—even finding himself able to get lost in statements for a while, barely noticing an hour tick by, two, three. Until his vision started to go out again, and he found himself leaning aching elbows on aching knees, feeling the nausea that had caused him to lose his breakfast that morning rise up again in his throat.

Please, not now. Please.

He’s got to get something in him, knows it would help to at least keep something with salt down, if he can manage it. Regretfully, the only way to stop the dizziness is sure to worsen it first—as his emergency Gatorade supply happens to be in the break room refrigerator.

Text Tim, the rational part of his mind supplies at once, the sound advice on it falling on entirely deaf ears.

Can manage this myself.

I put it there, I can go get it.

Wishing more than anything he had brought his walker, he moves slowly, ever so slow and careful to standing—and stars explode in his vision at once, driving him right back down to the chair again, head between his knees and panting.

Damn it damn it damn it

Calm, just—

Calm down.

Heart pounding in double time to the ticking of the clock on the wall, Jon does everything he can to slow it down, slow it down, ease the stabbing pain of his overworked heart in his chest with the deepest breaths he can manage. It’s not enough, can’t see, can’t breathe—

No no no—

—

Thud.

The sound drives Tim into Jon’s office at once, not for the first time—though never with any less worry or concern. Even knowing what happened, that Jon was almost certainly fine, would never truly take away the way his stomach clenches every time this happens, every time he sees Jon hit the ground, even if he’s able to catch him on the way. And today was especially worrying, with the damp coughing he had heard slipping beneath the office door since this morning.

Please be okay please be okay—

“Jon?” he calls gently, swinging the door open to find him on the ground, rolling onto his back with a groan. “Did you faint?”

“I—yeah,” he replies, more vague-sounding than Tim would like, rubbing the back of his head as he starts to sit up.

Not good.

“You hit your head?” Tim asks as he kneels next to him, already reaching forward to card through Jon’s hair, looking for any sign of swelling or bleeding.

“I don’t—not badly, if I—oh,” he trails off at once, eyes beginning to flutter.

“Alright, easy, now,” Tim mutters, supporting Jon’s head as he shifts back to lying flat again, eyes clenched again the returning dizziness. “It’s really bad today, huh? And you’re ill too.”

In response, all Jon will give is a sigh, draping an arm over his mouth as it turns into a cough, before placing it over his eyes. Something twinges in Tim’s chest at the sight—knowing how much Jon hates this, hates anyone fussing over him even more—and squeezes gently above his knee in acknowledgement.

“What can I do? Anything?”

Still nothing verbal from him for a few seconds—seconds Tim is willing to wait as Jon sorts through both his own unwillingness to ask for help, as well as through his own likely-scattered thoughts. It had taken a lot for Jon to tell him about his POTS in the first place—in fact, that trust had not been built until Tim had to take him to A&E after a particularly bad fall. Now that he thinks of it, Jon had been ill then too—and even grouchier than his current persona of “Boss-man.”

“Was trying to—ugh,” starts, cutting off for a moment to clutch at his stomach, against what is most likely rising nausea. “Was trying to get—get some Gatorade.”

“That’s what all this is about? Getting your nasty-ass purple Gatorade?”

When Jon huffs out a little laugh with a smile, Tim feels very much pumping his fist in the air for joy—but refrains, if only for Jon’s sake.

“Tastes good. Don’t know what you’re missing.”

And a joke?

Should I call an ambulance?

“Tastes like purple,” Tim replies, letting a smile filter heavily into his own expression now. “I don’t mess with shit that tastes like a color.”

A sharp gasp from behind alerts him to Martin’s presence in the doorway.

“Oh Jon, what happened? Are you alright?” he asks, with such deep concern that Jon immediately buries his face in his hands and groans.

“Just fainted, is all,” Tim says at once, waving a sharp hand by his throat to cut off his well-meaning sympathy.

“Right,” he replies with raised eyebrows, carefully schooling his expression in a way that Tim very much appreciates. “Right. Anything I can do?”

“Could grab him some Gatorade from the fridge, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“On it,” he nods at once, and sets off.

Just then, Jon starts up coughing again, so harsh and damp it sets Tim’s teeth on edge.

“That sounds rough, Jon,” he grimaces, reaching up to his desk to grab tissues from atop it and set them on the floor.

“It’s—fine,” comes the reply, of course, accented in between by a hitching at the back of his throat that drives him upwards to sitting.

“Right. Sure,” Tim mutters, rolling his eyes as he braces Jon, whose harsh coughing bends him double with effort.

When he begins to sway a bit, eyes fluttering again—Tim is already to prepared to push his head gently forward and between his knees.

“Easy, easy.”

“Fuck.”

“I’ve got you.”

The shaking beneath Tim’s hands is not altogether a rarity after a bad faint, but something tells him there might be another cause this time. A fever, namely.

“When’s the last time you’ve eaten?” he asks, after waiting for Jon’s breathing to come a bit back under control.

“Didn’t—don’t. Don’t feel well,” he whispers, bending even further forward, enough to have Tim reaching for the bin, just in case.

“Alright, that’s alright,” he whispers in response, feeling powerless to do anything but sit and rub his back.

“Tried,” he starts up again after a moment, altogether shocking an unsuspecting Tim with his verbosity.

“Tried? Tried what?”

“Tried to be careful,” he clarifies, coughing once more into his elbow, and letting it double him back down. “Promise, I—heh—tried. Thought I was fine.”

“I know, Jon,” Tim assures at once, rubbing at his back once again against the trembling, wishing it was doing anything to really help him. “I know, alright? Just save your breath. It’s not your fault.”

Thankfully, by the time Martin reappears with the Gatorade, he’s quite a bit steadier, after the coughing fit has reached it’s end. Much to Tim’s surprise, he even offers Martin a small smile as he cast a long shadow through the office, blocking out the fluorescent light of the hall behind him.

“Alright, time for electrolytes!” Tim cheers, as Martin opens the lid to the bottle before handing it to Jon, who begins sipping at it cautiously.

“You’re shaking—are you cold?” Martin asks, already removing his cardigan and kneeling to place it over Jon’s trembling shoulders.

“No,” he snaps sharply, pushing off the cardigan and shifting around, preparing himself to stand. “I’m alright, just—”

“Hang on, hang on,” Tim soothes, pressing back against Jon’s chest as gently as possible to stop his movement. “Just—hold on a second, alright? Let me get the cot set up in here before you try that.”

“Tim—”

“I know, I know, perish the thought. I get it.”

“You don’t—”

“BUT! But,” he cuts in loudly, holding up a hand to shush him. “You shouldn’t even be here, Jon. You’ve probably got the flu, or something, judging by whatever—whatever is clearly going on here. So please. Just have a lie down for, like, an hour. That’s all I’m asking.”

All I’m brave enough to ask, really.

Another pause, during which it’s Tim’s turn for his heart to pound, watching Jon try to formulate an argument against him with furrowed brows.

And then—everything that had been hunched and furrowed goes slack, as Jon starts to sway dizzily again.

“Oh—oh, Jon,” Martin gasps nervously, helping him slowly lower back to lying on the ground.

“M’fine, fine,” he assures, words slurring a bit as Martin checks his forehead for fever—and if the meaningful glance he gives Tim is anything to go by, he can be pretty certain of Martin’s findings.

“Right. Cot. I’m going to get it, and I’ll be back,” he says firmly, glancing back one more time to find Martin carefully placing his cardigan beneath Jon’s head.

Of course, Tim knows there is still a good deal of fighting to do on the “force Jonathan Sims to take care of himself” front, but this will do.

This will have to do for now.

[bots-basket]

Safety in numbers #2

{ oho we got some spicy fighting in this chapter~ } " That brat's gotta be hiding around here somewhere! keep looking!" The intruders inside the main hall were practically tearing the place apart as they searched for the girl they were chasing earlier. It was always such a pain whenever she was involved in their bosses business, and even more annoying when she got away. But it's best not to complain about it less they receive their boss's wrath instead of her... ugh. Hopefully they'll be able to find her quickly and return to the base without much hassle. Unfortunately for them, A certain maestro wasn't going to be letting that happen anytime soon. Balan had been watching them for a few minutes as they made quite the mess of his theater. it was obvious he didn't particularly care for the sort of negative aura they were giving off as a look of distaste found it's way onto his face.. Especially when they referred to the child as 'That Brat'. It was probably about time for him to make himself known to these 'unexpected visitors' as he revealed himself in his usual showy manner, practically spooking them immediately as he loomed over them. " Loose something gentlemen?"

" WHAT THE HECK-!? ITS A GHOST!!" ~ the first goon screeched as he and 3 more men clumped together and backed up from the tall dapper maestro. Yo nobody said this was some sorta haunted mansion!

The fourth man however wasn't too deterred by the sudden appearance of Balan. " it's not a ghost, just the dumb mascot of the theatre! And if he know's what good for him, he'll mind his own darn business and run along before he gets himself hurt." The man gruffly said as he pulled a switchblade from his pocket. the other men were quick to catch onto their other's plan and pulled out a few poles from their backpacks. " Ah, You might say that. But what happens in my theater does happen to be my business~"

Balan hummed however as he didn't look to intimated by them. infact- a glint of mischievousness flashed in his golden yellow eyes. Ah. so they're Those kind of men, eh? well simply wont do. "Now I'm going to have to politely ask you to put away those weapons, as they're against theatre policy. We Wouldn't want you to hurt yourselves after all~" ~ He smiled as there was another flash in his eyes, but it wasn't one of his usual playful manner.. but more of a warning glance. It would be ill advised of them to attempt such a dangerous stunt- since they obviously aren't trained professionals like Balan is after all.

Sadly some people just can't take a hint. "oh, So we're dealing with a smart alec eh? Common boys, Lets teach this bogus Actor some manners!" The man commanded as he charged Balan and got ready to slash at the tall figure. Balan just simply shrugged with a quiet huff as he flipped over the man with ease, letting him crash into the boxes behind him. The other quick to follow after the first's lead as they swung their poles at the maestro. Balan hummed in amusement as he dodged their attacks in a playful and flamboyant manner. With every swing that missed him the men began to grow hot with this fancy man's antics. How could he move so quickly and fluidly!? Just what was this guy!? As Soon as they weren't paying attention to what they were doing, Balan took hold of their poles and spun them around, until the force of the momentum made them let go and sent them flying into a strategically placed couch; The mere force of them lading into it caused the whole couch to topple over onto it's side. The last man still standing tried to catch Balan off guard with a sneak attack- only to end up being caught off guard himself when Balan slipped into his hat form and swirled around him- knocking the weapon out of the man's hand before popping out once again to his full height. With his usual grin and eyes full of mischief, he leaned in close to the now wide eyed intruder. "Boo~" The man let out a shriek as he and the rest of the goons scrambled to get away from Balan. Surprisingly enough they found their way out of the theatre Quickly without much problems... Almost as if they knew they weren't welcomed there. As they caught their breath, one of the goons looked up and saw someone silently approaching them. He gasped and dropped to his knees as the figure of a man stood in front of him. The man's hand gently fingered his own crimson Red locks that lazily laid before his orange eyes. Removing his other hand from the pocket of his brown trench-coat, He gently picked up the chin of the goon with a dull gaze in his eyes. " Did you find her?" "Y..Yes sir. She's inside that theatre-! we tried to get her back! h-honest- But uh- that theatre is as haunted as the stories say! we even saw the creature that lives inside it!! It's Tough as nails- We barely made it out ALIVE!" the goon stuttered under the mans grip.. before he was released finally as the man slowly approached the opening of the theatre. A small yet Sickening smirk was laced on his face as he pulled a little purple capsule from out of his pocket. "...So the Local Cryptic Creatures wish to play? Alright then. Let's see how well they fair in a Game against me. Winner takes all~" ------- Rosie Felt a Shivver trickle down her spine.. something deep down told her things were only going to get worse on from here out.. Welp. At least wherever she is now there's plenty of places to hide. She walked down the sunny pathways gently holding onto those four mindcores orbs in her hoodie pocket- completely unaware of the other inhabitants in this place... and how a certain Dark Cryptic creature had just laid his eyes upon her..

[random-imagines-blog]

Prescription (Viktor Krum x Reader Oneshot)

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2634 Summary: While in the hospital wing, you befriend the visiting celebrity Quidditch player.

Being the kid who was constantly sick was not fun at all. You missed out on fun experiences like Hogsmeade because you went outside without your warm hat on and caught a chill immediately. If you were to go out in an attempt to have fun in the winter, you had to wear the whole combination - hat, mittens, scarf, coat, long johns AND a heating spell or else you’d end up spending a week with the sniffles, missing class. It was only the beginning of your seventh year when you fell sick for the first time, only a month in. A first-year that you were showing around sneezed on you. Like snot, mouth open, uncovered, right onto your bare arm. No amount of hand sanitizer was enough for you to get the germs off, and the next day, here you were, in your pajamas, sitting at the Hospital Wing with a thermometer sticking out of your mouth. But you weren’t alone in the Hospital Wing - oh no. Madam Promfrey had sat someone beside you while she went and tended to a prank by the Weasley Twins gone wrong. Viktor Krum, famous Quidditch player with the face and body of a male model, was right next to you with a sprained ankle.

Madam Promfrey had given him a pain relieving position until she had an open minute to do the quick spell that would undo the sprain. He grimaced when he took it, and made a disgusted face as he set the empty bottle down on the counter. You chuckled, moving the thermometer around with your tongue, which caught his attention. Crap. Here you were in your button up pajamas, which were grey with pink bunnies on them. Why bunnies? You had no idea, but they were warm and they were the most comfortable items of clothing you owned and the best thing for these awful hospital visits.

“I had to take that one a couple of times, it’s awful, isn’t it?” You said, once he managed to catch your eye. His own lit up as he realized what you were saying, and he continued the conversation.

“It iz,” He said with a nod. “It taste like - rat piss.”

That made you laugh again, almost choking on the thermometer. That got Pomfrey’s attention and she walked over and took it out of your mouth. She checked the results with a sigh. “Another fever, y/l/n. I might as well get your name engraved in your usual bed.”

“No potion for me this time?” You said with your best pout, the one that usually worked on your friends and your parents. But the nurse had seen it time and time again.

“You cannot rely on magic all of the time, it’s not good for you, you’ll build up a tolerance.” She scolded. “You’ll just have to ride it out the natural way. Don’t look at me like that, you’ll be back in class in three days.”

“And spend my last year behind on school work, again.” You sighed. You looked over at Viktor, gave a weak smile, and got to your feet to be lead to your usual bed. She was right, you might as well put your name on it.

“Vait - you are staying?” Viktor followed, limping on one leg. Once you were situated on the bed, you looked at him with your head tilted.

“That’s what happens when you get sick a lot,” You said with a half-smile. “If you’re worried, I always turn out alright - eventually - and I don’t think that I’m contagious.”

It took Viktor a moment to translate what you said into his head. He opened his mouth to say something else, but Pomfrey noticed that he had gotten up from his chair. “Sit down, Mr Krum! I said that I would get to you in a moment!”

Swinging into action, Viktor hopped up onto the end of your bed, sitting down with his feet flat against the floor. His back was entirely straight, and he looked at Pomfrey like he was waiting for further instructions. You were amazed at how disciplined he was, though it made you giggle to see the nurse’s angry face, though he had done as she had asked. She sighed dramatically, in the way that she always did when the Weasley twins came in, and did a quick spell on Viktor’s leg. “There, you should be good as new now.” The look that she gave him very much showed that she was waiting for him to leave now.

He stood up slowly, lifted his once sprained ankle, and wiggled it in the air before deducing that it was indeed fixed. He gave Madam Pomphrey a curt bow of the head, which caught her by surprise. “When is - um-” He smacked his lips, thinking of what to say. “Visiting?”

“Visiting hours?” She asked. “Until seven o’clock - sharp.”

“Ahh, very good. I visit.” He sat back down on your bed and gave her a dazzling smile. The nurse didn’t seem very affected by it, just tutted in a ‘very well’ manner then went to check on the rest of her patients. He looked back at you, and his grin turned more shy. “I am Viktor Krum.” He introduced.

You said your name back to him and he repeated it to make sure that he got it right. You liked the way that your name sounded in his thick Bulgarian accent. It made it sound more ... tough, almost. “You don’t have to stay and visit me, I’ll be fine,” You assured him, in case he felt some sort of obligation.

“I want to,” He said, seriously. It seemed easier for him to be serious than to smile, but you didn’t mind. Even while straight-faced, he was incredibly handsome. It was just the prescription that you needed, though Madam Promfrey didn’t order it. “You get better faster with company, my mother says.”

“Smart woman,” You smiled. He kept you company until it was time for him to leave for dinner. He talked about Quidditch, slipping into his native every language every once in a while. Though you didn’t understand him when he spoke Bulgarian, you liked the way that he grew enthusiastic with hand motions and everything. You talked to him a bit about some of the Quidditch games that you had seen, though you weren’t much of a player. You liked the sport though, and the World Cup had made you change your favorite team to Bulgaria because you admired how they played together. “Thanks for staying with me,” You said, when he got up to leave.

“I come see you soon.” He gave you a more curteous bow than he had given to Madam Pomfrey, leaving you smiling as he departed. You couldn’t wait to tell your friends about how you had become friends with Viktor Krum while in the Hospital Wing! No longer could they complain about how you missed out on everything because you were always sick. The doors closed and you settled comfortably against the pillow, preparing yourself for the rest that the hopefully quiet night was going to bring you. Though hard to tell if it was going to be that peaceful, since the aged Weasley twins were still arguing only a couple of beds away.

-

True to his word, Viktor came to visit you each day that you were in the hospital. You were beginning to understand that it was an escape for him. Nobody in here stared at him or approached asking for an autograph. You did your best to treat him like a normal person, though it became difficult because you realized that you were increasingly falling for him. There was a constant flush upon your cheeks and you couldn’t fully blame your illness for that. You were feeling better at an increasing rate though, and perhaps it was like his mother said, the company was helping.

You were released shortly after Viktor left, when Madam Pomfrey did some tests and figured that the flu was entirely out of your system, and you were good to return back to your dormitory. You rushed back and greeted your friends with big hugs, and loved returning to your own four poster bed. As you laid there at night though, you wondered how things were going to work with Viktor. Was he still going to want to see you when you were healthy? Was he going to pretend that he didn’t know you outside of these visits? It was a bad idea to fall fast, you realized, and said to your friends. Half of them agreed with you while the other half told you that he wasn’t just going to stop seeing you now, not after visiting you every day.

You didn’t have a choice except to wait and see how things were going to go the next day.

In the morning, you put on your uniform for the first time in a while. The tie gave you problems as it normally did, but your friends were there to help with a quick tie spell. “Are you excited for a normal breakfast again?” One of your friend asked as you went down one of the moving staircases to head to the great hall.

“So excited,” You said, feeling your stomach growling. “All I’ve been able to eat was oatmeal and dry toast. Bring on the pancakes!” You rubbed your hands together, thinking of a high stack of food, doused in syrup.

“Good morning,” A heavy voice said, clearing his throat as you walked inside of the Great Hall. You looked over your shoulder to see Viktor standing just inside the large doors. In his hand was a single rose, though it was a rather large size, like magic had flowed through the stem rather than just water. You could feel eyes on you - not just from your friends next to you, but from the students sitting at the tables.

“Good morning,” You said, looking into his dark eyes. His jawline was to die for, and the facial hair that he had seemed to contour it to look even better. You remembered from when the other students came here that first night that the Drumstrang men sat with the Slytherins most of the time. You were not in that house, which was why the Hospital Wing was your first meeting with Viktor - it was a little shocking to see that he wasn’t there now. “Are you not going to have breakfast?”

“I am,” He said with an affirmative nod. So straight to the point, that was one of the things that you liked about him. “I vas vaiting for you.”

“Oh, that’s really very sweet,” You said, smiling widely. You couldn’t help but look back at the flower, then at his eyes. He held it out to you, and you took hold of the stem with your fingers. He didn’t let go. Your skin was brushing against his.

“This for you,” He said, finally letting go of the rose. “Good to see you feeling better.”

“It’s great to be out of that Hospital Wing,” You nodded. “Though I will miss our visits.”

“Can I join for breakfast?” He asked, looking past you to your friends who were waiting. They quickly grabbed onto each other’s arms.

“We forgot something-” One started.

“- at the dormitory!” Another finished.

“We’ll go get it now - see you in class!” The first one said again, and they dashed out of the Great Hall, shooting smiles over their shoulders at you. You shook your head at how obvious they were being, but they were still the greatest friends that you could have asked for.

“It looks like I’m free,” You said, chuckling. Viktor offered you his arm and you took it as he walked you towards your table. There was some free space close to the teachers, since most students didn’t like the idea of Snape or McGonagall eavesdropping on their conversations, so you two sat there. Well, rather, you sat down, then Viktor jogged around the table so he could sit across from you for easier conversations.

He first inquired about your health, making sure that you were okay. And even then, he didn’t seem to believe you until you made it through the meal without coughing or looking pale. “So why did you come to the hospital so many times?” You asked the question that had been on your mind for so long.

“I vanted to see you,” He looked surprised that you asked such a thing. Then he leaned in closer, saying something quietly so that no one else could hear. “Did you not vant me to see you?”

“No, no, I mean yes, I wanted to see you,” You stumbled over your words. “You came to see me more than my friends did. I was just asking because we didn’t know each other.”

“But we do now.” He smiled as he piled eggs onto his plate, as well as a handful of bacon. You supposed that looking like that required a lot of protein so you said nothing, only got your own breakfast together.

“You’re right, we do,” You said. It was hard not to think about the fact that you were friends with THE Viktor Krum, though when it was just the two of you, he didn’t seem like a Quidditch star. He was surprisingly down to Earth.

The two of you ate together in comfortable silence. You let the rose lay beside your plate so you could keep admiring it whenever you went to take another bite. It was one of the nicest gestures that you had ever received.

“So Viktor-” You started at the same time that he said your name and cleared his throat. “Go ahead,” You smiled, resting your hands on your lap once you have finished eating.

“You’ve heard about ball?” He questioned. Your heart started to beat faster as he had mentioned that. Word had even gotten to you in the Hospital Wing that there was going to be a grand ball to celebrate the tournament, despite the fact that the winners hadn’t even been chosen yet. There was no such thing as a secret in Hogwarts. Some girls had already started to order their dresses.

“A little,” You admitted.

“You - go with me?” His voice piqued at the end, as if he were nervous that you might reject him. You were glad you didn’t have food in your mouth when he asked that, for you surely would have choked. You picked up the rose and twirled it between your fingers, breathing in the hefty scent.

“I’d love to,” You smiled. “As long as I’m not in the Hospital Wing when it actually happens. I’m a bit clumsy and I get sick a lot so-”

“I be-” Viktor stopped you, putting his hand up as he thought about the word. You waited patiently as he thought hard for a moment, the word seeming to be on the tip of his tongue. When he finally got it, his whole face brightened up. “Prescription! Medicine!”

You were beaming so hard, you just hoped to Dumbledore that you didn’t have any food stuck between your teeth. You nodded enthusiastically, speechless for once. He reached over the table and took hold of your hand, rose and all, and squeezed it.

Perhaps being sneezed on was the best thing that could have happened. You’d have to send that first year flowers.

[rons-hermiones]

Come Find Me

Come Find Me

by rons-hermiones

Summary: Unplanned, Hermione is forced to spend Christmas at the Burrow due to her grandmother falling very ill. After being ignored by Hermione for weeks, Ron is determined to show her how much she means to him. Just before he gets the chance to tell her, Bellatrix Lestrange shows up with other plans for Hermione. Can Ron get to her before it's too late? (Ron/Hermione Half-Blood Prince AU)

Rating: M for language & dark themes in later chapters.

Chapter Eighteen

“It’s him.” Harry says for the second time in such a brief amount of time as he wiped the sweat off his brow. 

Ron stands from his own bed and hurriedly makes his way to his friend, desperate for answers. 

“Was she there? Did you see Hermione?” He asks before he can help it, mentally kicking himself for not checking to see if Harry’s alright. “Are you alright mate?” He hopes it doesn’t sound like an afterthought. 

Harry waves him off, moving to swing his legs off the bed, “Hermione was there.” He admits after catching his breath for a moment. 

“And?” Ron asked impatiently. 

The chosen one shakes his head frantically from side to side, “he got angry with her. Really angry. I-” he pauses, “I felt it.” 

“Why? Why was he angry?” Ron’s becoming panicked as well, his hands roughly grasp Harry’s shoulders as he rocks him back and forth. 

The dark haired boy closes his eyes as an attempt to remember, “half blood,” he breathes, “she called him a half blood.”

And they both know Hermione’s the last person to have problems with such a thing, after all, Harry is one himself. It’s Voldemort who’d snap at such a statement. 

“Blimey.” Ron says, hands slipping and going slack from their place on Harry. 

They fall into a tense silence. The pair of them are breathing roughly as the consequences their best friend must’ve paid for such a thing. Harry, though, looks as if he wants to say more. 

“Ron.” He starts rather shakily. 

With round petrified eyes, the ginger looks to him, already afraid of what’s to come. 

“She tried,” Harry pauses to clear his throat, “Hermione, she spoke to me.” It comes out more even than before. 

“What?” He asks bewildered, unsure what else to say. 

The Boy-Who-Lived, exhales, trying to calm himself down before speaking. “This thing between me and him, whatever it is, it works both ways.” It’s hard to explain something you don’t understand yourself. 

“Meaning?” Ron’s voice doesn’t sound like his own. 

“I didn’t even mean to,” he begins but Ron still looks puzzled. “Tap into his mind I mean, it was a theory really. Earlier when it happened, I was  just concentrating so hard on Hermione about what he wants from her and suddenly I was there like I was in the room. I thought maybe if I tried again, it might work.” 

“And it did.” Ron breathed, sounding hopeful, thinking that this could be a good thing, maybe Harry could figure out where she was. 

“Ron listen,” the chosen one begins, seeming to have caught his friend's train of thoughts, “it was hard enough the first time, when it was an accident. It was near impossible the second time, Vol-” he pauses, “he could sense it, he tried blocking me.” 

“So you can fight it.” The ginger argues, “wouldn’t be the first time, right?” 

“I’m not an expert, I’m not even a legilimen. I only got through cause he was caught off guard, I doubt he’d let it happen again.” Potter was skirting around the real reason he wasn’t willing to try reaching out again. He wanted to spare the other boy the details. 

“He wouldn’t expect you to do it again so soon,” 

“Ron-” 

“Maybe if Dumbledore or someone like Snape,” 

“Ron!” Harry snapped, finally shutting him up. 

Wide blue eyes meant guilt ridden green ones. 

“Hermione, she paid for what I did. He didn’t like that I did it, made it worse when she figured it out and tried to take advantage of it.” 

There’s a tense silence for a moment as Ron stumbles back and begins pacing the expanse of his room. “Paid for it?” His voice is shaking. 

Harry sighs, “sometimes it’s like I’m in the room watching, but sometimes, sometimes it’s like I’m him,” their eyes meet before The-Boy-Who-Lived looks away in shame, “this time I was seeing it from his eyes. I could feel him, he was angry, more angry than I’ve ever felt, even before Hermione said something.” 

“What did she say?” Ron asks desperately. 

“She called out my name, said she didn’t know where she was then, Ron,” he paused nervously, “She said your name, told me to tell you something, she never got to say what.” 

Tears stung the corners of Weasley’s eyes. 

“It was so blurry but it was like I was him and one minute he was reeling from what she had said, the next thing I know, he was looking down at his foot. When things focused again Hermione was in a ball, crying in pain. That’s when I lost it.” 

Tugging roughly at his hair, Ron flopped back onto his bed, resisting the urge to punch something. Instead, he buried his face in his hands trying to think of something, anything, to prevent him from being irrational. 

“There’s one more thing.” Harry says quietly, barely audible. 

His blue eyes snap from where they were buried in his palms, pleading his friend to finish. 

“He said if it happened again, that someone was going to die.” 

Fuck.  

...

“Dumbledore told me you know,” Ron breaks the silence that’s been heavy in the hair for a half hour, “about those things,” he drops into a whisper, “horcruxes.” 

Harry nodded, then opened his mouth to speak, until the redhead stopped him. 

“I don’t think we should talk about it. What’s the use right? Only she knows how to destroy them anyway. I don’t wanna risk You-Know-Who cracking into your head and finding out we all know.” He rumbles. 

Ron then notices the look of guilt plastered over his best mate's face at the idea of Voldemort finding out and punishing Hermione for it. Maybe even worse than punishment... 

“Out of sight out of mind? That’s what they say innit.” Ron tries to lighten his tone but it’s hard. 

Harry speaks after a minute, “yeah, you’re right. Good idea Ron.” He praises weakly, still a little ill at the thought of that playing out. 

“I reckon we should go downstairs. They’ve had to have come up with something and we’re no use up here.” Harry can tell Ron’s trying to employ distraction as a tactic to keep his anger and guilt at bay. 

Without a word, the chosen one stands, signaling to the door. As the pair venture from the attic, voices float up the steps, confirming the remnants of a plan being formed. 

“Weasley you can get ahold of the logs down Gringotts can’t you?” Mad Eyes gruff voice asked Bill. 

“Yeah.” He responded. 

“I don’t see what that would do.” Molly protested. 

“Those goblins down there will do anything for a shiny sickle Molly, but the magic in the building logs every transaction. It isn’t by name, but if there’s a big one we may be able to trace it. Could tell us if the Death Eaters are planning on moving somewhere.” Moody tells the group, “just being cautious!” 

At this, Harry and Ron exchange befuddled looks before descending closer to the kitchen, where the noise was coming from. 

“Where’s that letter that came for Granger yesterday? We better check it’s not a fake.” Moody said next. 

Ron had just about enough. He wouldn’t let them check something so personal. 

“You’re one to talk about fakes professor.” His voice broke out angrily, causing all heads to turn. 

“Hedwig’s smart enough. She wouldn’t bring us something like that.” Harry justified his voice calmer. 

“Oh dears, you’re awake, did you rest? Did the potions help some?” Molly asked fussing over her son and Harry.  

The two boys exchanged a quick look. Harry thought it best to not inform them about connecting with Voldemort again. He was worried Dumbledore may not let him try it again or push him too hard. Both would result in pain, especially for Hermione. 

“Yeah, it kept us down for a bit.” The chosen one settled for. 

The Weasley matriarch offered a weak smile, “good, I’ll prepare you boys something to eat.” Neither had the heart to tell her they weren’t hungry.  

Noticing eyes on them, Ron clears his voice, “if we found Dolohov, Lestrange, even any random snatchers, they could lead us to her. To Hermione.” It took all his energy to not let his voice waiver. 

Next to him, Harry nodded in agreement. 

“Death eaters like Dolohov and Lestrange, they’re not easy to find Ron. We’ve been doing double time since the Department of Mysteries, but we’re no closer than we were.” Kingsley informed quietly from a corner of the room. 

“Well we have to start somewhere don’t we?” He retorted. 

“We?” Bill repeated with a cocked eyebrow. 

“Yeah,” Ron’s voice rose with anger,” Harry and I are helping anyway we can, with or without the lot of you.”

“Ron,” Molly turned from the stove. 

“Mum, this is Hermione, so whatever you’re gonna say, save it. I need to do this,” he pleaded with her before turning to the aurors present, “I’ll do anything.” He states strongly. 

Everyone stands silent for a moment until Dumbledore steps forward and eyes him carefully, “you can help by acting as if nothing has happened.” The old man decided. 

“What?” Several voices sounded at the same time, those consisting of more than one Weasley, Harry, and even McGonagall. 

“The plan right now is for everyone in the room to make everyone believe they are going on as they would. If Voldemort knows we are searching mercilessly for Miss Granger, he’s more susceptible to use her as some sort of leverage over Harry. Panic would only ensure her importance.” Albus looked to Harry, indicating to him about the Horcruxes with a simple look. “Until then, all possible leads will be checked quietly. Any snatchers or death eaters in question will be subtly investigated. From there, we can hopefully get leads on locations that may match what you saw Harry.” 

At this, The-Boy-Who-Lived nodded in agreement. He even dared to spare a glance at Ron who appeared red in the face. 

“It is my understanding that the Granger’s are to return from France after the New Year. Besides them, no one who is not within the confines of this house is to know of Hermione’s true reason for absence. Not even your classmates at school.” The headmaster looked at the pair of Gryffindors. 

“School?” Ron spat, how was he supposed to just return like nothing happened? 

“Yes Mr.Weasley. If we are to keep up this guise that nothing has occurred, you are to return to Hogwarts. If anyone asks, Hermione had a family emergency so she’s at her home in London.” 

“Rubbish!” Ron exclaimed, stomping out of the room before Dumbledore could go on any further. 

Instantly, Harry stumbles after him. 

Albus’ lips pulled into a thin line before he turned to Bill, “I feel it’s best that you and your brothers are the ones to inform the Granger’s. I have no doubt both Ron and Harry feel they should deliver the news and you’re the best man to escort them.” It was unsaid, but the Granger’s would be most comfortable with Bill, having met him prior, being on occasion he’d retrieve Hermione to floo. 

And to everyone’s shock, Molly simply nodded in agreement, knowing Ron would want it to be this way. 

“Perfect,” Dumbledore said, “now shall we discuss current leads in Azkaban?”

Elsewhere, Ron and Harry had stepped outside for a breather. The air had become too stiff at Dumbledore’s plan for them to return to Hogwarts. 

Neither has said anything yet, instead just inhaling the cool winter chill, hoping to ease the tension working its way through them. 

“Do you reckon they’ll let us go to the Granger’s?” Harry almost whispers. 

Ron’s head snaps over to his eyes wide. 

“That’s what you want isn’t it?” The chosen one asked. Harry knew he wanted to go, felt it was his duty. 

“It’s not really a question Harry, I’m going, you’re going. End of story.” The ginger said surely, “anyway, if they wanna ship our arses back to Hogwarts, then you can bet they won’t say anything about us heading to London.” Ron knew taking Harry to frolic around the city probably wasn’t wise, but he also knew he could use a visit to the Granger home as a bargaining chip to agree to attend school after holiday. 

“It’s not a terrible thing you know, going back to Hogwarts.” Harry says, not completely believing the statement himself. 

“How’s that?” 

“Well surely we’ll have more access to books, for research,” the dark haired boy can’t help but smile at the words, Hermione would be proud, “you’ll also have time to get things sorted, so that way when Hermione comes home you’re set.” He said the second part stiffly. 

“Get things sorted? What things?” Ron pushed, the statement bewildering him. 

“Well uh,” he gulped, “Lavender.” 

Suddenly, Weasley’s entire body tensed, “right, well, I handled that on the train.” He mumbled. 

Harry shook his head, “I know how you feel, but Lavender she’s a bit uh, persistent. I just mean now you’ll have the chance to really show her it’s done without Hermione scrutinizing the whole thing.” 

Ron pulls his lips into a thin line, Hermione’s disappearance somehow weighing heavier than before, “I still wish she was around though. I’d honestly have her the way things were then not at all.” He admits almost shamefully as he picks on a loose thread on his jumper. 

“I know,” Harry agrees softly, “it’s killing both of us that we can’t fix this and get her back, so what I mean is that if you can fix one thing, then do it Ron. For her.” 

He nods in agreement, looking at snow topped hills, eyes briefly meeting the worn oak tree. At the sight, a cry builds in this throat, but he soon swallows it. 

“For her.” He whispers to no one in particular.

[writings-of-a-daphodil]

Fire Keeper: Chapter 8

Douxie x fem reader

Chapter 1

Masterlist in bio!

Series Summary: You are Jim’s older sister who is taking a break from college and has moved back home to Arcadia. You end up joining Jim and his friends on their adventures. Chapter 8 summary: You would really enjoy a nice relaxing weekend, but unfortunately that isn't in the cards for you when Strickler shows up at your house, begging for protection.

You were concerned, to say the least, for Aaarrrgghh. He would die soon and he was choosing to spend his last moments with you and your friends. You didn’t really know how to feel about that. You were flattered and happy that he thought of you as family, but family had to make sacrifices for each other and you didn’t want to see Aaarrrgghh die.

So you found yourself pacing Douxie’s bookstore, ranting to Archie about your problems. You probably should have been talking to your friends about your feelings, but you didn't want to bother them when they were also going through thnigs too.

You had to talk to someone though, and Douxie had asked you to watch the bookstore while he went on an errand. So you talked to Archie, it wasn't like he was going to tell anyone.

You were just about finished summing up your life when Douxie walked in. "How was the shop?" he asked.

"Quiet." You gave a small smile and sat down at one of the tables. Picking up a book you looked it over.

"Thanks for watching it," Douxie said, coming over to pet Archie who was sitting in the chair opposite you.

The bell to the shop rang and you looked up to see a young woman there. "Hey handsome, mind helping me find a good book?" 

You scowled. "Sure," Douxie said, walking over to her. You watched uncomfortably as the woman flirted with Douxie and to your dismay Douxie flirted back.  

Archie hopped into your lap and the woman looked over at the sudden movement. "Oh, your cat is precious, may I pet him?" 

"Um, sure." You really wanted Douxie to say no for some reason, which wasn't like you. The woman drew closer to Archie he recoiled away, giving you a feeling of satisfaction. There was something off about this girl. 

"Oh. I guess he just doesn't like me," the woman said. "By the way my name's Mindy." 

"Nice to meet you," you responded politly. 

"Mhm," she said then turned back to Douxie. 

"Why don't I check that out for you?" Douxie suggested, taking the book she had chosen to the register. 

You were content to glare at Mindy with Archie until she left, but your mom called. "Hello?"  

"Hi, honey. I was just wondering if you've seen Mr. Blinky around? I haven't seen him since he got ill and rushed to the restroom. I'm still really confused on what happened."  

"No, I haven't seen him, sorry. Anyways is there anything you need me to get from the store?" You asked, trying to guide the conversation away from Blinky. 

"No, I'm working all weekend. Just take care of your brother." 

"Don't worry, mom. Love you." You hung up to see Mindy frowning at you while Douxie searched for a bag for her book.  

"Is there a problem?" you asked her. 

"Do you work here?" 

"No." 

"Ah," was all Mindy said in way of a response. Soon though she was gone, and while you hadn't noticed it before the energy in the room has changed while she was there. Now it was back to its normal relaxing aura. 

"She seems nice," Douxie commented and you forced yourself not to roll your eyes. There was something wrong with that girl. 

"Well, I need to get going, Jim's expecting me." You stood up and gently set Archie on the chair you had previously occupied. You waved goodbye to Douxie and you made your way to your car. 

You were angry at yourself for feeling jelous, it wasn't like Douxie was yours or anything. However, the more you thought about it jealousy was only the cherry on top. You were certain something was off about her. She had changed the aura in the bookstore drastically, though you hadn't noticed it at the time. 

You pulled your thoughts away from her and Douxie and focused on getting home. You had too much on your plate to worry about an odd customer.

You arrived at your home around sunset and you sighed, content. A nice relaxing weekend was exactly what you needed.

“Jim? Are you home? Mom has been asking me all day about what happened to ‘Mr. Blinky,’” you ranted as you put your purse on the coat rack.

“Good thing we decided to put the axe up last.” You spun around and quickly chanted a spell when you heard Strickler’s voice. Orange chains shot out, binding him.

“Where is Jim?!” You hissed, holding a dagger you had summoned to his throat. (You had to admit you were proud that you were able to modify the sword spell without help).

“Oh! Y/n, I’m fine. See?” Jim gestured to himself and you saw that he was indeed fine. However, you still didn’t release Strickler.

“What is he doing here?” You snarled.

“Angor Rot is after him and I agreed to help,” Jim said, frowning.

You shoved Strickler away from you and released him from his chains. “I will help too, but only because if you die my mom dies.”

“Well, I’m glad we got that settled,” Strickler grumbled, clutching his throat.

“Mhm.” You rolled your eyes and went to help Jim set up other areas of the house.

You didn’t know how to feel about helping Strickler. Once upon a time ago he had been your favorite teacher, but after all he had done... You just didn't know how to feel.

Darkness quickly creeped up on you and soon you were eating a quick dinner. It wasn’t the best food you had ever eaten, but it felt nice and calming to eat.

You were scraping the bowl when you heard Jim scream.

“Jim!” You called rushing to the basement. You were having deja vu of the first time you met Blinky and Aaarrrgghh.

You rushed down the stairs, once again ready to defend your little brother, when you saw the source of his alarm. ”Oh my gosh! Why is there a hole in our basement!”

“How else am I supposed to get around while the sun is out? Don’t worry it only leads to the sewers,” Draal explained calmly as you and Jim stood there panicking.

“Mom will flip if she sees this!” You squeaked.

“Nobody knows about it but me,” Draal clarified, but it didn’t worry you any less.

“Did you get the Lodestone?” Strickler called from the staircase. Draal held up two stones, one blue and one green. As soon as he loosened his grip they snapped together and all the metal in the basement slowly floated up then rushed to meet him.

You yelped and sent a burst of orange magic to shield him. “I’ll take that as a yes?” Jim mumbled as Draal pulled the stones apart and the metal fell to the floor.

“It’s almost nightfall. Come on, there’s more work to be done,” Strickler said and you rolled your eyes. Helping him was something that would take a while to get used to.

You worked quickly, helping set up one trap after another. Angor Rot was smart and you hoped that these traps would work.

“Okay, that’s the last one. Now all we do is wait,” Jim said, finishing up the swinging axe trap.

“You know I’m a bit surprised how well we work together,” Strickler commented.

“Don’t think it’ll happen again,” you rebuked.

“Yeah,” Jim said, “You know I’m still gonna take you down after all this is over.”

“Perhaps if we get through this, I could talk to my constituents about the eye of Gunmar,” Strickler suggested. “I assume you’re still interested in finding the last triumbric stone?”

“You know where it is?” Jim asked excitedly.

“Personally, no. But my ilk are wide and numerous. Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

“Why would you help us kill Gunmar?” You questioned.

Strickler laughed, “Let’s just say, I’m always looking out for my best interests.”

You scoffed. “You don’t say?”

“Oh what a shocker,” Jim said louder.

Draal gasped behind you and you spun around to see Draal pointing at an eye. “What is that?” The large troll asked.

“It’s his eye!” Strickler yelped.

“Gunmar’s eye?” Jim asked, confused.

“No! Angor’s! He’s been watching us! Get it!” Strickler commanded. “After it! There, there!”

“Y/n can you use your magic or-or something?” Jim asked.

“It wont let her,” Strickler said, pushing your hands down. You scowled at him as the eye rolled off the banister.

“Catch it before it escapes!” Jim warned.

“Gunmar’s eye, Angor’s eye. Enough of these eyes!” Draal grumbled as the four of you ran into the kitchen. The eye raced around the room and flew into the air towards the sink where Jim caught it in a cup.

“How long has he been watching us?” Jim asked. Suddenly the door knob rattled and you froze.

“He’s here! Get in position!” Jim ordered, and you all rushed to your places. You ran to the stairs and levetated yourself so you were hiding in the overhang.

“For the Glory of Merlin, Daylight is mine to command,” Jim whispered and you began to mutter a spell.

“Hey, kiddos, you home? Wanda messed up my schedule again. Guess I have the day off after all,” your mom announced as she walked into the house.

“No!” you screamed as she put her purse on the rigged coat rack.

“Mom, watch out!” Jim warned, tackling her to the floor.

“Whoa! Holy— Why is there an axe in the door?”

“Barbara! Are you all right?” Strickler asked as you quickly dropped to the floor. Hopefully she hadn’t seen you hovering.

“I’m fine. Whoa! Holy—How? What is—?” Your mom looked around at the room and you could see she was panicking. “W-Walt? Why are you here? And why are you holding a crossbow?”

“Me? Uh, yes. You see, um, there’s a school project I gave Jim and, uh.” He hid the crossbow behind his back as if that would do anything. The safety must have been off though so the crossbow took down your lamp.

“Die, Angor!” Draal roared, coming into the hall.

“No, Draal! Get back!” Jim warned and your mom let out an ear splitting scream.

“Um, hello. Sorry,” Draal apologized, and you face-palmed.

Your mom screamed again. “No, no, no! Mom! Mom, it’s okay! He’s—“ Jim started to explain, but he was cut off when your mom sprayed him with pepper spray.

“My eyes!” Jim yelped, and Draal backed up, recoiling in pain. He bumped into one of the many ropes that crossed through the hall and triggered a trap. He yelped as he ran into a bookcase which fell on him, knocking him out.

Your mom screamed some more and you tried to console her. “It’s okay, mom! He’s a friend!”

“He was a friend. Now, he’s out cold,” Strickler said and you rolled your eyes, the statement barely made any sense. Your attention was taken from Strickler’s poor wording and given to your mom who screamed yet again. You walked closer to her, but before you could reach her she fainted.

“And so is she,” Strickler mumbled as you used you magic to heal her and calm her. She soon woke up and you helped her to a chair in the hallway.

“More water Barbara?” Strickler asked, holding out a pitcher. You mom nodded, but instead of giving him the glass to refill she took the pitcher and guzzled the water down.

“So, let me get this straight. There are good trolls and bad trolls and somehow, you?” Your mom asked.

“If I may. There is a vast world beneath our feet, Barbara, and your children have stirred up a heap of trouble.”

“Dude!” Jim hissed.

You glared at him. “Not cool.”

“This is all so...” your mom trailed off and you gave her a hug, there were definitely better ways to tell her.

Strickler backed away. “I’ll give you a moment.”

“I can’t believe this is what you have been doing. All those late nights, getting arrested, you in the hospital. Why are you this...Trollfighter? A-and you, Y/n, you’re a wizard?”

“Uh, Trollhunter,” Jim clarified.

“Y-you should be worried about high school and girls not this, Jim. I mean, can’t you just ask someone else to do it. Y/n could, right? Or someone else...”

“I’m afraid it’s a...permanent situation? They need me, mom. Y/n is doing her best to help, but we each have our own jobs.”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but Jim is their protector,” you added.

“But who is going to protect you?” Your mom asked and you smiled.

“That’s what I’m there for, look.” You held up your hands and the bookshelf and everything else that had fallen glowed orange. All of the objects then began to put themselves back into their place. “See?”

“Wow,” your mother marveled, fascinated by the warm orange glow that was your magic.

“Barbara, you do have to leave! It’s-“ Strickler warned, but the alarm cut him off, Angor Rot was in the house.

“The basement!” Jim groaned.

“What’s in the basement?” Your mom asked.

Strickler put a hand in front of your mom to protect her and you almost started to like him again. “Draal was supposed to guard it,” he huffed.

A black ball rolled from the door, silencing any further conversation. You heard Angor Rot begin to chant so you threw up your hands, creating a shield around everyone.

The ball began to flash with purple electricity and you placed your selves, but all that happened was the power went out.

“What happened to the lights?” Your mom yelped as the chanting grew louder.

“Mom, stay close,” Jim ordered and you got ready to perform another spell.

“But I can’t see you!” Your mom called out. With the faint glow of your shield you could see her trembling.

“Y/n?” Jim asked and you let him out of the shield as glass shattered.

Jim dropped his flashlight. “For the glory of Merlin, Daylight is mine to command.”

“Jim, you’re glowing! H-how are you glowing?”

“It’s armor, Mom. It’s part of the job,” Jim explained.

A purple orb flew at your shield, but it ricocheted off your orange shiled, which was growing weaker by the moment.

“Mom!” Jim cried out as another purple orb shot out at him.

“Stick to the plan. You know what to do,” Strickler ordered and you nodded.

“You did not run, brave hunter, but the brave are the first to die,” Angor growled, finally revealing himself to Jim and you. You let down your shield and sent a blast of magic at Angor.

“Go! Go! Y/n, get her out of here!” Jim grunted as he fought Angor Rot.

“No! Not without Jim! No! Jim!” Your mom cried out as you and Strickler pulled her to the basement.

“This tunnel leads to the sewers. You can get to the street,” Strickler informed.

“What about my son? What’s going to happen to him?”

Strickler stepped in front of her. “No, you have to go!”

“No! He needs my help!” Your mom howled.

“Come on, mom. You're no good to him if you aren’t safe,” you pleaded.

“You don’t understand, Barbara. Our lives are bound magically,” Strickler said, trying to reason with her.

“Are you really talking about our relationship right now?” Your mom asked, irritated.

“We don’t have time for this,” you interjected.

“My boy is in danger!” Your mom pushed you aside, but you cast a spell, locking the basement door

“Y/n let me through!” Your mom ordered, but you shook your head. You needed to keep her safe.

Strickler moved to grab her. “Let me go!” Your mom slapped him, but she recoiled when she felt the pain as well. “Ow! What was that?”

“Listen to me! Leaves now!” Strickler growled and his eyes glowed.

“W-what are you, Walt?” Your mom whispered, pulling herself away from him and back to you.

“I’m someone who can help your son, but I can’t until I know you’re safe. Please,” Strickler begged

“Then go to him!” Strickler ran up the stairs and you opened the door for him.

“We need to go, now.” You pulled your mom to the hole.

“No, just...wait.” Silence filled the house after that statement and you mom grabbed a shovel. You creeped towards the staircase and motioned for her to stay there, but as soon as you got up the staircase she bolted past you. You chased her upstairs and screamed as she hit Angor Rot out of the trap.

“Mom, wait! No!”

“Get away from my boy!” She growled and you cringed.

“Mom, no! Get out of here!” Jim warned as Angor Rot attacked again. You shoved your mom to Strickler and tried chain Angor Rot, but you missed.

“Walt?” You heard your mom whisper. As you put a shield up around the two of them.

“Get out of here!” Jim growled as he faced off Angor Rot. You un shielded them and summoned your sword. Your mom ran into the hallway and you quickly backed out after her, sword raised. Strickler turned to follow you, but Angor attacked him, cutting his and your mom’s neck.

“Mom!” Jim cried.

“Well that didn’t go as planed,” Strickler muttered. You were about to jump into fight Angor Rot, but you heard Draal roar. He crashed into the room and tackled Angor Rot.

“Mom! Are you okay?” Jim asked as he helped her down stairs.

“My side hurts. Why—?”

“Come on, I have to get you out of here,” Jim cut her off.

“Can you drive?” Jim asked Strickler as you ran out of the house.

“Motivated enough I can do anything,” Strickler affirmed and you rolled your eyes, again.

“Move. I’ll drive,” you offered. No way you were letting a half-conscious Strickler drive.

“We have to go to the hospital,” Jim stated.

“Can’t. Our wounds won't be healed by modern medicine. We need to go to Trollmarket,” Strickler informed, coughing. You pulled the car out of the driveway and sped to the bridge.

“Sorry. I messed things up,”  your mom mumbled from the back seat.

“No, mom. I’m sorry. I should have told you. I should have told you everything,” Jim responded.

“Just hang in there and everything is going to be okay, alright?” You added.

You glanced in your rear view mirror and saw a purple flash. You quickly swerved the car to avoid the orb that Angor Rot—who had gotten free of Draal—cast.

“That’ll wake one up!” Strickler yelped as he slid in his seat.

You turned into the woods to avoid another blast and did your best to steer clear of any trees.

“Where did you learn how to fight?” Your mom asked.

“Shh. I-I’ll tell you all about it once we get you somewhere safe.”

“Perhaps now-” Strickler coughed “-We call your friends? I think we lost him.”

Just as he said that Angor Rot hopped onto the forest floor. “Go! Go! Go! Get to the bridge now!” Jim screamed.

“Mom, stay with us! We’re almost there!” You said, peering into the back seat as you reversed. You burst out of the trees and onto the road where you made a quick u-turn while Jim called his friends. You did your best not to crash as you soared into the canal.

“Jim!” Strickler warned as he gestured towards Angor Rot who was now on top of the bridge.

“Oh, no, no, no, no!” Jim sighed. Angor Rot jumped off the bridge and landed on the car, breaking the back window. Jim fought him as you tried to shake the troll off.

“Turn now!” Jim ordered and you did, but Angor still would not fall.

“Jim!” Your mom cried as you swerved again. Angor Rot finally fell free and you stuck your hand out the window. You sent a magic blast his way, but all it did was make him stumble.

He leapt onto the front of your car, breaking the front windshield. He grabbed your throat, but you swerved the car again, causing him to lose his grip on you.

“We have to shake him before we get into Trollmarket!” Jim called and you replied by breaking hard. The inertia sent Angor flying off the car.

“Straight at the wall! Just drive!” Jim yelled.

How do you know it’ll open?!” Strickler asked, panicked.

“I don’t!” you responded.

“It’s not opening!” Strickler yowled, but right as you were about to crash you soared through the wall and over Toby. You did your best to safely maneuver the damaged vehicle blue crystal staircase, but there was something wrong. You weren’t feeling well.

“We need help! Please!” You barely heard Jim call as things slowly faded to black.

****

So this is a pretty long chapter already, however I had planned to write it even longer. I decided against that though, and instead split chapter eight in half. You will get chapter nine on Friday! Have a fantastic day/night and please stay safe.

Also I'm sorry if your name is Mindy.

P.S. if you want to be on the taglist feel free to ask. I hope it works and please message me if it doesn’t.

Chapter 9: https://writings-of-a-daphodil.tumblr.com/post/628396240650092544/fire-keeper-chapter-9

[mamabearcatfanfics]

Instinct - Part One

I told myself I wasn’t going to split this one-shot up. And yet here we are. It was getting a little chunky, and when I was reading back through it, this seemed to be a good place to divide it. Sooo. Here we go.

Achoo!

Inuyasha opened his eyes. He hadn’t been asleep, just thinking, but the slight noise of Kagome’s sneeze had startled him. When she sneezed again and again, even though she was sitting by the warmth of the fire, he felt a little concerned. Humans could be so fragile sometimes, and the longer he spent with Kagome, Sango and Miroku on their dangerous quest only proved that. He shrugged off his suikan and draped it around the girl’s shoulders.

“Here, put this on so you won’t catch a cold.” She glanced up at him with a smile, her fingers stroking the soft surface of the red tanned pelt of the fire rat that made up his suikan.

“Thanks”, she said softly, then continued to sneeze some more, unable to stop them coming.

He squatted down next to her near the fire, and bumped her with his shoulder.

“Eh. Too late, you’ve already caught one.” Kagome giggled.

“No, someone’s just probably gossiping about me”, she said with a grin, but then couldn’t hold back yet another sneeze.

Grumbling under his breath, Inuyasha held his hand to her forehead. It felt a little warm, but perhaps that could be from the fire? And then he realised he’d laid his hands on her without asking. Trying to cover his sudden embarrassment with bluster, he huffed in an exasperated way.

“Don’t be ridiculous, who’d ever gossip about you?” He moved his hand away quickly and placed it against his own forehead. They felt almost the same. “Hmm that’s good, you don’t have a fever.” But was his body temperature the same as hers? He never felt the cold like she did as a hanyou, although he did feel the cold a little more on his human nights. Perhaps his usual body temperature was higher than a humans? Maybe she did have a fever?

Kagome leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder, and he froze.

“Uh… Kagome?” She smiled sweetly, nuzzling her cheek against him.  

“Thanks Inuyasha, thanks for looking after me.”

“Uh, you’re startin’ ta get warm”, he said, heat rising in his own flustered cheeks. Or maybe that was just him. Did she know what she was doing, with the nuzzling thing? The back of his suikan was already covered in her scent from where he’d carried her earlier in the day, and now here she was, rubbing her cheek against him. Her sweet scent, overlayed by the smell of soap from her time drifted up to him, and he couldn’t help but close his eyes and inhale deeply. Fuck, Kagome.

She always took him by surprise when she did this. Not being afraid to get close to him. It wasn’t that he disliked it, quite the opposite. It was just… what was he supposed to do? Where was he supposed to put his hands? Would she like him to put his hands somewhere? He’d never been taught what to do with a girl he liked or how to show it, and there was no way he would take any cues from that pervert Miroku. His hands only got him into trouble!

“It’s okay, don’t worry”, she yawned.

Fuck, was she reading his thoughts now?! Then he realised with a rush of relief she was still talking about the fever thing, not his inability to show his feelings.

“Keh. You sound tired. You better lay down and get some sleep Kagome. We got a lotta walkin’ to do tomorrow.”

“I know, but…” she squirmed a little, and he heard her heartbeat get a little faster, “could I stay here next to you a bit longer? If that’s okay?” She shivered a little, and before he could put any thought into it at all, his arm went around her, pulling her against him. He tucked the fire rat around her shoulders more snugly, pulling the edges together.

“If you wanna. No big deal.” He cleared his throat self consciously, very glad that she couldn’t hear that his own heart had increased its pace to match with hers.

He sat there with her in front of the dying fire, his arm around her until her heart slowed to a resting pace, and her soft regular breathing told him she was deeply asleep. Picking her up carefully, he carried her over to her sleeping bag, but then realised he had no way to push her into the warm cocoon without waking her up. Instead he placed her on top of it and tucked his fire rat around her snugly. Hopefully that would be warm enough. She was safe and asleep, wrapped in his clothing and in his scent, and his heart swelled. He couldn’t help his soft smile at her cuteness when she rubbed her cheek against the furred texture in her sleep.

Inuyasha moved back over to his position leaning back against a tree, resting Tessaiga over his shoulder. A slight movement where the others were sleeping caught his attention, and he glanced over. Miroku had one eye open and a smirk on his face.

“Very smooth my friend, very smooth indeed”, he whispered faintly, so only Inuyasha would be able to hear it.

Inuyasha’s slight rumbling growl and raised fist had Miroku slamming his eye closed and feigning sleep quickly. Inuyasha snorted, and closed his own eyes. Wouldn’t hurt to sleep for an hour or two himself. Who knew what the new day might bring?

🌸

The next morning dawned bright and sunny, and Kagome arose a little later than usual, blinking blearily at Sango’s cheery good morning as she made the tea for breakfast. As soon as she was upright, Kagome scrabbled in her bag for a tissue, then loudly blew her nose.

She threw the used tissue into the fire, still sniffing a little.

“Are you okay Kagome?” asked Shippou.

“Yeah, I’m fine”, she said reassuringly. “Just a little cold I think, nothing to worry about.”

When they were all packed and ready to go, Inuyasha surprised her by grabbing her heavy backpack off the ground and shrugging onto his own shoulder, walking off without a word. Kagome smiled, watching him fondly as he walked away, grumbling at some teasing remark made by Miroku and taking a swing at him, which the monk evaded deftly. Inuyasha could be so thoughtful sometimes. She had learned not to draw attention to him when he did little things for her like this. When she did, it usually ended badly, with him puffing himself up and reflexively spouting barbed words that she knew he probably didn’t mean, but that were hurtful, nonetheless.

She followed along close behind him, waiting until Miroku had finished their conversation and moved away. Seizing the opportunity, she stroked Inuyasha’s arm surreptitiously in a gesture of thanks as she walked past, ignoring the quiet ‘feh’ of feigned irritation.

By lunchtime, Kagome had used up her whole supply of tissues, the edges of her nose felt raw and chapped, and she was forced to just sniff, which she hated. She knew from experience that there was nothing more irritating than being in a classroom with one person who was continually sniffing, and she worried about annoying the others, especially Inuyasha, who’s patience with others physical shortcomings was not a strong point. Maybe next time she restocked her first aid kit she should add some cold and flu medication; one that would dry up a sniffle without making her drowsy, but that wasn’t particularly helpful right now. All she had were simple over the counter pain killers. She rubbed her eyes, hating the sinus headache that was building behind them. This sucked.

Inuyasha kept an eye on Kagome as they walked along the dirt road after their lunchtime stop. She was getting slower and slower, despite him carrying her backpack for her, and was lagging behind the group. Even Shippou had moved to Miroku’s shoulder instead of his usual spot on Kagome’s when her responses to his constant stream of questions had slowed, and her violent sneezes had dislodged him from his perch one too many times.

“You okay wench?” he asked, stopping to wait until she caught up and then slowing down his pace to walk beside her.

“Yeah”, she sniffed, her voice sounding nasal and stuffy. “Just a cold and a headache – I’ll take something for it when we stop tonight.”

Inuyasha sniffed the air. “There’s a hot spring not too far away – we could stop a bit earlier. Soaking in that and breathing in the steam might help with your cold.” Her eyes brightened a little.

“Thank you Inuyasha, that’s very thoughtful.”

“It’s nothin’ – we were goin’ that way anyway”, he said, his eyes flitting away from hers, suddenly very interested in the treeline up ahead. Kagome coughed suddenly, then grimaced.

“Ouch.”

“Sore throat too huh?”

She nodded. “I should probably make sure I stay away from Miroku and Sango”, she sniffed. “I don’t want them to catch this. Oh wait, I should probably stay away from you too!”

He shook his head. “Nah, I don’t seem to catch human illnesses.”

“You don’t?”

Inuyasha shrugged nonchalantly. “Yeah – it’s actually rare for me to catch demon stuff too.”

“Wow, that’s really interesting!” Kagome pondered, her expression brightening slightly as she remembered a concept from a recent biology lesson. “I wonder if it’s a hybrid vigour thing?”

“A what?!”

Kagome’s face flushed, realising that perhaps that wasn’t the most tactful thing to have said. “Uh, sorry, I was just thinking out loud, don’t worry about it.”

But when Inuyasha continued to stare at her with one eyebrow raised, she explained, trying to choose her words very carefully. “It’s something I learned about in biology in school, that’s the study of living things. There’s a technical term for it, but I can’t quite remember it at the moment. Basically, it means that sometimes an organism that comes from two very different uh, parents, will inherit and combine the strengths of both of them. And that also means immunity to illnesses too.”

“What’s an organism?”

“An individual animal, plant, or single-celled life form”, she recited in a sing song voice.

“So not people?”

“People are animals too Inuyasha”, she grinned, sniffing again. “We just like to think we’re better, but really, the only difference is that we think more about stuff, rather than relying on instincts alone.”

He glanced at her, then away again. “So instincts… they’re a bad thing?”

“Not at all. Humans have them too, we just don’t listen to them very well. I guess we’ve forgotten how to. I really admire they way we can rely on yours Inuyasha – where would we be without your sense of hearing and smell, and the way you can sense danger? I can’t count the number of times you’ve had a bad feeling about something and it’s turned out to be true.”

“Keh”, he grunted, glancing away from her again in an effort to hide the rising colour in his cheeks, even as his shoulders squared with pride. “What about demons… and half-demons. Are we one of your organisms too?”

She nodded, pleased that he’d caught on so quickly. “Yes, we’re all organisms – you, me, Shippou, Miroku, Sesshomaru...”

Inuyasha snorted. “Don’t let him hear you puttin’ him on the same level as the rest of us wench, he’s liable to have a hissy fit.”

Kagome giggled, until another coughing fit hit her, making her slow to a stop. “That one hurt”, she whimpered.

“Then stop talkin’ so much dummy! Rest your throat.”

Inuyasha handed her the water bottle from the outside pocket of her backpack, and she gratefully took a long drink. He handed the backpack to her then crouched down in front of her. “C’mon slowpoke, climb on, or we’ll never get there.” Kagome swatted him lightly on the shoulder for the teasing, but climbed on, grateful to stop walking for a while. Her head was beginning to thump, her eyes were hurting, and her throat felt raw. Most colds she’d had only lasted a few days, so she hoped she’d be able to sleep the majority of this one off overnight and feel better in the morning. Maybe Inuyasha was right. Maybe a dip in the hot spring and a good nights sleep would make all the difference.

🌸

A good nights sleep seemed to make things only worse, even with the relaxing soak in the spring. Even though Kagome insisted she was fine, and that it was just a cold, Inuyasha was beginning to worry. It was quite a warm Spring morning, the sun having a little more bite to it than the previous week, but Kagome had complained about the cold. She was keeping her distance from Miroku and Sango now, worried about them catching her cold, which was proving to be stubborn. Her hands had wrapped tightly around her metal mug filled with hot tea as they ate breakfast, the occasional shiver causing her to slop the hot liquid on the ground. He’d wordlessly offered her his back again, and she’d clambered on less gracefully than usual. She was still shivering, despite the warmth of the sunshine and his shared body heat.

“Kagome, you got anythin’ for fevers in that bag a yours?” he asked.

“Already taken some”, she whispered raspily, then turning her head to one side to cough. “Ugh, sorry.”

“It’s alright, you can’t help it. Just try not to put snot in my hair, wench”, he teased, and then frowned when the comment didn’t even get a small rise out of her. Her scent was beginning to remind him of something that he didn’t want to remember, and even though he wasn’t the praying type, he sent a silent wish up into the ether.-

Kagome snoozed on and off on his back all day, blinking blearily at everyone when they stopped to take breaks. When they finally set up camp for the evening, everyone bustled around Kagome, who sat listlessly on a fallen log that Inuyasha had rolled over closer to the fire for her, her unzipped sleeping bag clutched around her like a cloak. She’d stopped sniffing finally, but that seemed to have been replaced with a horrible barking cough that shook her small frame and left her gasping for air.

Inuyasha paused behind her, listening intently. There was a slight rattle to her breathing that he didn’t like. A wheeze when she breathed out, and a crackle when she breathed in. More memories of his mother’s sick room crowded in, the stench of medicine jars and the liniment rubbed on her back, the multiple quilts she had shivered under, the wheeze of her breath as her lungs slowly filled.

Kagome coughed again, then got up shakily, clutching her sleeping bag around her in an attempt to keep her shivers at bay. She spat out a mouthful of phlegm behind a nearby tree, then sat down at the fire again.

“Sango”, she said raspily, watching as the woman served out helpings of rice and miso broth, “I’m not real hungry. I think I might try and get an early night’s sleep. I’m sure I’ll feel better in the morning.”

“Of course Kagome-chan”, said Sango in a motherly way. “That sounds like a very good plan.”

She finished serving out the portions of food, and they all sat down on a log on the opposite side of the fire, watching as Kagome slid herself into her sleeping bag and closed her eyes. Kirara watched the girl shiver inside her sleeping bag for a few moments, then padded across to the other side of the fire, transforming into her larger form and snuggling up beside her.

“Maybe we should have a rest day tomorrow”, said Sango quietly to Inuyasha. “There’s a stream nearby with plenty of fish, and it’s a fairly defensible position, should anything try to attack us.”

Inuyasha grunted non- commitally, his eyes locked on Kagome. Miroku nudged his arm.

“You seem worried Inuyasha. Do you suspect it’s more than just a cold? She does seem very feverish.”

Shippou jumped up onto Sango’s lap, his big green eyes concerned. “Kagome said it was just a cold. She wouldn’t lie about that would she?” Sango stroked the kit’s fluffy fringe, smiling gently.

“I’m sure Kagome will be fine. We are just worried about her because we care, that’s all, and it’s hard to see her looking not well when she’s usually so cheerful.”

Shippou sidled a little closer to Inuyasha, and tugged on his sleeve. Inuyasha looked down at him in surprise. The kit’s green eyes were firmly locked on Kagome and Kirara, his expression serious.

“My mama died of a lung fever. Hers started just like this.”

Inuyasha’s hand ruffled Shippou’s fluffly fringe, and to Shippou’s surprise, he picked him up gently and placed him onto his shoulder.

“Yeah runt. Mine too.”

🌸

It was the violent coughing that woke him in the darkness. And the chattering of Kagome’s teeth.

He moved quickly over to her side, and she blinked blearily at him, shivering inside her sleeping bag. Kirara had moved back over to Sango’s side, sleeping in her smaller form, and the loss of body heat must have chilled her.

““I’m sorry. Did I wake you up?”, she whispered, then coughed again, curling herself up tightly in a ball in her sleeping bag. Her voice was raspy, and Inuyasha’s ears flattened at the timbre of her voice, she hardly sounded like herself at all.

“Nah”, he fibbed, “don’t need as much sleep as you.” He moved his hand over to her forehead again. ‘Damn, you definitely have a fever.”

“I feel cold”, she whispered. Another coughing fit began, which she tried to smother. He watched as she reached out her arm to her back pack, grabbing two small ovular pills and swallowing them with a sip of water. She tucked her arm back in the sleeping bag, teeth chattering loudly.

“Here, why don’t you wear this”, said Inuyasha, shrugging off his suikan. The coughing was concerning, and the scent of remembered illness was stronger than before. He tried not to think of his mother. That was a different time, and a different place. Kagome was sure she just had a cold.

But his instincts were screaming at him, that this was serious, that she was in a life threatening situation, and that he needed to act to protect, to care, to save her. He lifted up his jacket and held it open so that she could slide her arms through the sleeves, then belted the obi and helped her snuggle back down into the sleeping bag, his worried gaze locked on her sleepy eyes.

“Hey”, she said. There was a slight smile on her face, despite her flushed and feverish cheeks. “It’s just a cold! It’s not like I’m dying, silly.”

“Keh.”

He moved back over to his position at the base of the tree, watching as she drifted back to sleep. But as soon as he was certain she wouldn’t wake, he moved back to sit beside her. Kagome continued to cough while she slept, sometimes waking herself up with a coughing fit, but would then settle down again to toss and turn restlessly.

Shippou joined Inuyasha next to Kagome not long before dawn.

“She smells sick. Like really sick”, he whispered. Inuyasha grunted.

“You aren’t gonna make her look for shards today are you? That would be mean.”

“Whaddya take me for runt – a slave driver?” he snorted. “I’m gonna take her back through the well to her mother’s house – they’ve got medicines there that can probably fix this in a day. But she’s gonna pitch a fit about it, so you gotta back me up, right?”

Shippou nodded seriously. “She’s gonna be okay, isn’t she Inuyasha?”

He snorted again. “She’s Kagome. She’s stubborn enough to tell any sickness to piss off because she’s got things to do.”

But by the time Sango and Miroku woke a few hours later, Kagome was still coughing and wheezing, looking even more feverish, and Shippou had worked himself up into anxious tears. Inuyasha was doing his best to calm the kit down while still keeping his senses trained on Kagome. When Sango approached to check on Kagome, he thrust Shippou into Sango’s arms.

“Here, take him for a minute.”

She cuddled the sniffing kit against her closely. “What’s wrong?”

Shippou rubbed his little face into Sango’s chest. “Kagome’s sick like my Mama!”

“Hey runt, we don’t know that. It might not be that bad, alright?” said Inuyasha, his eyes never leaving Kagome. “I’m gonna take her throught the well, and her Mama will make a fuss of her and give her medicine and then she’ll be fine.”

When Kagome started to push herself up, he was there to rub her back when she began coughing again.

“What’s going on?” asked Kagome croakily.

“You’re sick.” Kagome glared at him.

“And?”

“And I’m takin’ you back through the well to your mother.”

“Inuyasha, it’s just a cold!” Kagome spluttered. “I’m perfectly capable!”

“Sure, wench, sure”, he said, grumbling as she coughed again. “You can get back to being perfectly capable after I’ve taken you home to rest.”

“But we’re too far away!” she spluttered, teeth chattering again now that she was sitting up out of her sleeping bag. “It would take us days to get back!”

“Tch! Normally I can’t get the idea of you goin’ home outta your head, and now you wanna stay here? It don’t matter how far away we are, I can move fast when I need to.” He bobbed down so he was squatting right in front of her, his amber eyes serious. “And that’s what we’re gonna do, so just get used to the idea.”

“Inuyasha, this is ridiculous!” Kagome huffed raspily. “Yes, I do feel not very well at the moment, but it’s nothing serious! It’s just a fever and a cough!”

Grumbling, he wrapped the fire rat around her tighter, rubbing her back again as another bout of coughing racked her small form. “Dammit Kagome, stop bein’ so stubborn! Just… even if it’s nothin’, it’s not like you’re gonna be able to fight anything while you’re this sick!”

She leaned against him wearily, all the physical fight gone out of her after her coughing fit, but still glowering at him. “Way to hit a girl when she’s down!” She sighed. “Okay Inuyasha, you win…but only because I don’t feel well enough to deal with your attitude at the moment.”

“Feh, more like common sense.”

“Why are you over reacting like this?” she wheezed. “People in my time get sick like this, and they take some medicine and continue working as usual.”

Inuyasha could hear the low pitched crackling sound her lungs made as she breathed, even more audible than before. His sleepless night filled with worry made him sharper than he meant to be.

“But this ain’t your time wench! People die from lung fever okay? Whole families. Whole villages wiped out. And I’m not gonna sit here listening to your lungs fill up when I can do something about it!”

Kagome’s eyes widened, her fingers clutched the sleeping bag. “Influenza pandemic”, she whispered.

“What?”

“There was an influenza pandemic during the Sengoku Jidai. It started in Asia and followed the trade routes to Europe, even Africa and the Americas. No one knows how many people died.”

Shippou jumped down from Sango’s arms, and buried himself in the folds of the sleeping bag filling Kagome’s lap. “Please Kagome, let Inuyasha take you back. You smell sick.”

Kagome shook her head, her hands hovering over his small form as if she longed to pick him up, but didn’t dare. “Please, go back to Sango Shippou. I couldn’t bear it if you got sick too. And I can’t go through the well. I’ve made up my mind.”

“Sorry wench, you don’t have a say in this, I’m takin’ you home.”

“I can’t!”, she pleaded. “What if this is a strain of influenza that hasn’t been seen in my time before? What if Mama and Grandpa and Souta got it? Souta’s still young, and Grandpa is old, if this is influenza, it might kill them! What if someone visiting the shrine got it somehow, and it spread through Tokyo? Millions of people could die!”

“Kagome!”

“I can’t stay here with all of you either. I don’t want to infect any of you. But Inuyasha said that he doesn’t usually catch viral illnesses from humans, so maybe he’ll be okay.” She coughed again, the slight wheeze in her breath evident even to Sango and Miroku now. “You can take me to Kaede’s. She has that isolation hut she uses when she’s treating sick patients.” She stuck her chin out, her expression serious, eyes glittering and feverish, but determined. “You can take me there Inuyasha. But not through the well.”

Inuyasha slung her backpack over his shoulders, then bent down to straighten his bulky suikan around her and pulled up the sleeping bag so only her head was poking out.  

“We’re gonna go, but this conversation ain’t over Kagome”, he said sternly, picking her up so that she lay in his arms, head supported on his shoulder. He turned to face Miroku, Sango and Kirara, and locked his gaze on Shippou, who was now openly weeping in Sango’s arms. “Don’t worry runt, I’ll take good care of her okay? By the time you get back to the village, she’ll be doing much better.”

“I’m gonna be fine Shippou, you’ll see”, coaxed Kagome, wanting to cuddle him goodbye, but now afraid to. She waved to Shippou, Kirara, Sango and Miroku, her hand just peeking out over the top of her sleeping bag cocoon, and then Inuyasha was off, his firm hold on her mitigating any jostling from the easy loping pace he was setting.

Her mind was whirling. She’d never even thought about viruses. What if this illness she had was due to some virus that had previously been eradicated in modern times. She couldn’t go back through the well until she’d recovered. She wouldn’t risk it. But then, she was always moving backwards and forwards. What if she brought a virus back through the well from modern times that infected everyone and changed the timeline? What if she already had? There had been that bird flu scare in China earlier in the year. She would be like those European missionaries bringing diseases that wiped out half the population of South America. She’d been so thoughtless and naïve, more worried about leaving physical traces behind rather than illnesses. As soon as she was well again, changes would have to be made.

“Kagome stop thinkin’ so much”, said Inuyasha. He could smell her anxiety and the way her heart rate was increasing. She burrowed her head into his shoulder.

“I can’t help it”, she whispered raspily, suppressing her urge to cough. “What if…”

“No, shut up. All you need to think about right now is gettin’ better”, he snarled, slowing his pace to a brisk walk. His arms squeezed her tighter. “For fucks sake Kagome, you do this all the time. The world doesn’t rest on your shoulders, alright? No one can carry that. Stop wastin’ your energy worryin’ about everyone else and worry about you for a change.”

Kagome rubbed her cheek against his suikan, unable to use her hands tucked away in the sleeping bag. “But I have you to worry about me.”

“Yeah, and what a fuckin’ thankless job that is”, he grumbled. “The number of times you’ve thrown yourself into danger because you don’t think things through wench!”

“Oh yeah?” She tried to push away from him tucked in the confines of the sleeping bag, but it was not use. She grit her teeth, even though that made her headache thump harder. She wouldn’t feel hurt. She wouldn’t. He probably didn’t mean it. But the phrase ‘thankless job’ cut into her like a knife. “Well, what about you! I’m always patching you up, always worrying about you! You get hurt all the time! And you never…” Her raised voice caused another bout of coughing, the wheezing tone as she dragged air into her lungs causing Inuyasha to stop.

“Deep breaths Kagome”, he muttered, shifting her positing so she was more upright in his arms, then tapping on her back, trying to help her cough up the mucus he could hear trapped in her lungs. “That’s it. Cough it up – you need to get rid of that stuff.”

Kagome’s coughing gradually eased to slow wheezing breaths. He drew her back from over his shoulder, supporting her so she could spit the gobs of yellow green phlegm from her mouth.

“I’m sorry”, she wheezed. “That’s so gross.”

“Gotta cough it up Kagome, otherwise it’ll just make you sicker.”

Kagome shivered inside the confines of the sleeping bag. Her whole body was sore, but the dragging ache between her shoulder blades was the worst. She couldn’t ever remember feeling so ill. “How do you know this?”

“Spent a lotta time in my Mama’s sick room. At first they used to chase me out, sayin’ me bein’ there was invitin’ bad luck, but after a while the healer just ignored that I was there. She would tap on Mama’s back to try and help her cough up the fluid before she put the liniment on her back.” He snorted. “Didn’t help her none though. Half the castle died, her included.”

“Inu…”

“Don’t worry about it”, he said, glancing away from her, trying not to see the horrified pity in Kagome’s face. “I was never wanted there. It was only my Mama being there that made me stay. And she held on as long as she could. She was nearly as old as Kaede when she died. I left straight after her funeral and never looked back. They couldn’t wait for me to leave – some of them even said that having a hanyou inside the castle walls was what caused the sickness, a judgement brought down by the kami for harbouring a freak of nature. Feh.”

“But you… you would have still been so small”, Kagome whispered.

“So?” he bristled. “Yeah, I was younger than Shippou, but I wasn’t a runt like him. I survived! It weren’t easy, but I did it. Mainly to spite those fuckers that hoped I’d die during my first winter out of the castle. They’d all be dead now, every last one of ‘em. And I’m still here!”

Kagome managed to wriggle a shaking hand out of the sleeping bag and reach up to touch Inuyasha’s neck. She’d wanted to aim for his cheek, but she couldn’t get her arm free enough. “I’m glad you’re still here”, she whispered. “And I’m glad I’m by your side, even if looking after me is a thankless job.”

His head dropped so that his cheek brushed against her fingers, and eagerly she stroked what she could reach. He sighed.

“I didn’t mean that.”

Her smile lit up her face, even under the flush of fever. “I know.”

“Close your eyes and go ta sleep wench. I’ll wake ya when we stop for the night okay?”

Kagome nodded, pulling her arm back into the warmth of the sleeping bag, snuggling in as Inuyasha pulled her tightly to his chest and began to pick up the pace again, rocking her to sleep with his easy ground-eating stride.

🌸

Instinct - Part Two

[anxietysroomsupport]

i found out pushing doesn't work. that's what my sister does when she thinks something's wrong, she pushes that she wants to go to the doctor. eventually our parents give in. i think i mentioned it because i sent an ask here recently, but my joints have been giving me grief lately. several months ago my knees kept feeling like my bones were grinding when i put weight on them for a few days. more recently, in january i think, after spending an hour or two outside, my hips did the (1/?)

(2/?) the same, that night and for the next few days. sometimes it was fine, usually better mid morning, but other times i couldn't put wait on them. it felt like they were grinding, or going to give up on me. it's been happening longer where i feel like if i move the wrong way, something will pop out. i try to sit up and swing my legs and my hips yell at me with slight pain, so even though they would probably just pop, i wait till it stops, just in case. because i don't want to see (2/?)

(3/?) what would happen if they didn't. but recently, a week or two after i started these new exercises (my mom thinks it's related to that, which it may be slightly, but i don't think so completely), modified push ups so i could get better core strength and stuff, my joints have started popping. started feeling like they'll go out more often. and i mean popping loudly. i kneeled earlier in the process of sitting up, and my sister, who was talking and a few feet away, asked me if i (3/?)

(4/?) okay. it only hurt a little, it's more just the sensation of the popping, tiny pain. but my right knee sort of buzzed, like my elbow did yesterday. except yesterday, my elbow hurt. it felt, just from a random movement, like it actually popped out for a moment, or tried to, and my elbows are usually fine. if it's the exercises, i don't want to just give up my hopes. i want to be able to one day walk on my hands. i know i'd never get back into it after this, even if it's not the (4/?)

(5/?) problem. anyways, sorry, there's a lot to say, i'll try to hurry this up. recently after reading something they flared, when it started happening nearly every time i move, then went down a little, and have stayed that way for about a week. the exercises have been making me feel a little stronger, and i just don't think they're doing this. but, i kept mentioning it. my pain. asking if people could hear it. only my sister cares to listen. she always cares. always listens. (5/?)

(6/?) mental or physical health she's there for me. she keeps saying that i really should go to the doctor, so i keep asking. i mentioned the knee thing to my mom. she said she kept researching but couldn't find anything narrow enough to be diagnosable. that i should just wear the shoes that i can't stand, stop the exercises, start up again with walking when my body calms down, as if it will. i can't stop now. but i don't think she'll take me. i think i have to wait till something bad (6/?)

(7/?) especially after the thing i read, i don't want to wait. i don't want to ignore the signs. if i could save myself so much pain, why can't i try? just two or three days ago i was getting into school when my hip started to hurt. the hallways are one way, so i have to walk around nearly the entire school to get to my class, and i only had a few minutes to get there. i just told myself to keep walking. ignore the fact that i could barely put weight on my right leg. i had to get to (7/8)

(8/?) class. but pushing doesn't work. i pushed to go to the doctor. i got in an argument. i had stuff to do and i was starting to cry, so i just said i wouldn't bring it up anymore. i'd stop. my sister's an adult. i just realized i can ask her to take me. if another bad thing happens, i will. if they flare up again, i will tell my parents that i need to go to the doctor. if they won't, i'll ask my sister. i don't want to. i know my mom tries. she said normally she would, but covid. (8/?)

(9/?) but i have to go. maybe it's nothing, or maybe i will have to stop doing the exercises, and break my heart a little bit more as i give up on another goal. but i have to. i have to. i can't cripple myself for life because i wouldn't go. i have no idea what could happen to me one day or some day soon even if i don't. maybe i'm just overreacting and i'm fine and it's growing pains but i haven't grown in 1 1/2 years and it hurts. and i'm so so tired. been reading, sorry it's like prose (9/9).

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I sent an ask about my joints recently? Yeah, well, this. yesterday I was hesitantly diagnosed with Hypermobility Syndrome, pretty wide across my body but mainly in my lower body. basically the doctor said, that since it's the best guess, I need to go to Physical Therapy and try to strengthen my tendons and joints. so obviously I'm so glad to have a solution, maybe not be in so much pain anymore, but at the same time, I like being a little bendy. I'm not stretchy, not good at gymnastics (1/2)

(2/2) or whatever, but I do like feeling a little different. so I guess it's just like, what if PT makes it so I'm not bendy anymore? is it like those metaphors where you break a stick, then put a bunch together and can't break it? or am I folding the stick in half, forsaking mobility for strength? and I don't think that a diagnosis for an actual chronic illness has hit me yet, I know I'll be more nervous when my first PT comes in 3 days, but I still feel normal.

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Hypermobile anon here, I believe I said I wished it was something a little more for some reason? Yeah, well, good news, I don't anymore. My pain is like, I'm in so much pain, but not actually that much, and I know that I both am and aren't, and it doesn't actually feel like that much, but it is? My point is, tonight's been really bad and I'm starting to think it's good the friend I tend to go outside on walks and stuff with was busy. Also, my mom, in complimenting my drive, (1/2)

(2/2) said that while my sibling was told to do physical therapy to keep their hand working and didn't do it as much as they should, I was doing physical therapy regularly and faithfully to stop my joints from aching. I know my family, mostly my parents, has lots of issues and then just powers through, but you'd think that my mom, who has a bunch going on (allergies, diabetes, random undiagnosable stuff), would understand chronic illness. To her, my joints ache. Sorry, it's not actually too bad.

Hi Anon,

First thing, so so sorry for the delay on this one.  And it’s great that you have continued writing in with updates!

Thank goodness you did keep pushing and get your diagnosis (even if it may be a hesitant one)!  You really could have ended up struggling for a long time.  Arthritis would have been another guess if your doctor hadn’t come to Hypermobility Syndrome.

Hopefully your doctor is treating this seriously, but remember that if any doctor is trying to ignore your concerns, you can very clearly say to them, “If you’re not going to do tests I want it noted in my chart.”  

From the advice of a lot of chronically ill folks, it is also strongly recommended to get your vitamin levels checked, especially b12, iron, and vitamin d. These can actually cause joint symptoms if they’re low enough and lots of things can affect your absorption of them.

It is definitely still possible to build muscle and continue to be flexible.  It takes quite a lot of bulk to start limiting your range of movement, and physical therapy will probably be gradual enough that you can assess your flexibility as you go.

As far as feeling “normal”, having chronic illness actually is really common!  In 2012, the National Health Council stated that roughly 133 million people in the U.S. were dealing with some kind of chronic condition.

It is awful that you’re in so much pain.  Your doctor should also be helping you manage that, since strengthening your muscles isn’t going to be an immediate solution.  That takes time, but you’re in a lot of pain right now.  Anti-inflammatory painkillers can help with joint pain, and heat treatments like warm baths, hot water bottles, and heat-rub creams can be useful too.  Beyond that, you might need prescription treatments.

Your mom is probably just trying to encourage you, but it’s small comfort compared to the level of pain you’re dealing with.  People will often deal with chronic illness in different ways, especially different generations.  It might help to find groups online that are dealing with similar issues, or chronic conditions in general.  Places like reddit, facebook, etc will have groups or subreddits dedicated to creating a community, so you can share your experiences and find other people dealing with the same issues.  You might ask your physical therapist if there are any in-person or online support groups locally.  

You’ll have to find a way to manage your chronic illness, your way.  If your mom doesn’t understand it, don’t worry about her.  You got this.  And your sister’s got your back.  

-Kai, bun