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cantsaythetword · 2 years

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TickleTober Day 9: Torture

~A/N - Ok so this is my first EVER Originals fic that I'm writing so I really hope it turns out the way I want it to. It's a reader fic with Elijah and Klaus and some spooky witchy magic which gets you in an interesting situation...

This might be a long one sooooo buckle the fuckle up. Also might have some slightly more intense tickle scenes, so a slight TW for that (tied up, tickle interrogation, not exactly soft and fluffy but not terrifying either lol)

Hope you guys like it!

- Enoy! ~

Tag List:

Masterpost Link || TickleTober 2022 Masterpost Link

"Hello there."

You blinked drowsily, the clinking of chains above you waking you violently from your half-conscious state. Where were you? Why were your hands tied? Who was talki-

Oh no.

"I hear you have some information about the whereabouts of a certain vampire I've been looking for."

You locked eyes with none other than Klaus Mikaelson, fear instantly rippling down your spine.

"Words seem to have escaped you..." He said, face tilting in mock concern. "Allow me to help with that."

You gasped, internally cursing yourself for reacting.

"Oh there's no need to be afraid. I won't need to cause too much damage." He grinned, walking around your suspended body. "See, I have a friend of mine who is very handy with spells."

Where was he going with this? Was there some horrific psychological torture you were about to endure? Just how long would you hold out? How long could you hold out?

"And one of my absolute favourites is a little nerve-amplifying spell."

So that was his plan? Set your senses on fire and just wait?

"This little masterpiece allows even the smallest blow to be absolute-" He paused, pinching your bicep.

You screamed, pain shooting past your shoulders and slowly dissipating along your chest.

"-agony."

It was more than anything you had experienced before.

"Are you ready?" Klaus

You tensed, awaiting what you could only imagine would be horrific anguish.

"Niklaus, wait."

The well-dressed immortal in the doorway had his hand held up, halting his brother from beginning what could soon be the worst moments of your life.

"Ah brother, come to see the show?" Klaus opened his arms like a circus ringmaster, welcoming Elijah to his little makeshift torture chamber (which was really just chains hanging from the roof keeping your arms up and ropes keeping your ankles together).

"Unfortunately not."

Klaus sighed. "I suppose you've got some self-righteous monologue coming my way?"

Letting out a chuckle, Elijah stepped towards you, effortlessly keeping your attention with his intimidating presence.

"I have entered into an agreement that no harm shall come to Y/N under any circumstances." The older brother said.

"We barely have to touch them to cause unimaginable pa-."

"Irrelevant." Elijah interrupted. "I gave my word, and I shall hold myself to that."

Klaus rolled his eyes. Clearly this wasn't the first time Elijah had ruined his plans.

You certainly weren't complaining though.

The brothers stood for a few moments in silence, looking you up and down. You weren't sure if they were trying to figure out a plan or purely trying to intimidate you.

Whether it was intentional or not, it was working.

Finally, Elijah spoke.

"Y/N." He moved towards you. "You seem like a sensible young person."

You kept your eyes locked to his. It wouldn't surprise you if he could sense your anxiety, but you weren't going to make it any easier for him to see just how shit scared you were right now.

"Surely you know what's at stake-" He began, placing a hand gently on your back.

But you didn't just feel a hand. You felt each fingertip press into your skin, his palm push against your muscles in an unbearably odd manner.

You couldn't help but let out a muffled yelp, arching away from him.

Klaus tittered in amusement, while Elijah simply gave you a puzzled look.

He turned to face Klaus. "Just how bad was that witch's spell? I can barely brush against them without them recoiling in pain."

Proving his own point, he brushed his fingers against your side and you squealed, violently trying to jerk your hands down to protect yourself.

The younger's snickers turned to a few seconds of laughter.

"That's not pain, brother." Klaus chuckled, and for the first time you shot him a look of pure fear. "I think our friend has another little secret they don't want us to know of."

You couldn't quite see Elijah's face, but clearly something had clicked. For when he turned around next his face could only be described as predatorily calm. He took his place behind you, where all you could see was his hands coming closer and closer to your hypersensitive body.

Once Klaus readied himself in front of you was when your calm composure dissolved into nervous giggling.

"Wahahait plehehease!" You begged, jolting the chains your limbs were currently wrapped in.

"Oh you've got no chance." Klaus grinned.

And then it began.

Elijah's fingernails felt like claws scratching every ticklish nerve under your arms. Each point of contact acting as a conductor of ticklish volts rocketing down your nervous system and setting your body alight. Klaus's thumbs seemed to connect with each fibre of your muscle tissue on your lower sides, massaging your obliques with the speed and intensity of a woodpecker's beak.

The tickling was so much you couldn't react for a few moments, stuck in the stasis of shock while your vocal chords caught up with your physical senses.

You squealed, bursting into manic unstoppable laughter. It felt like your mouth wasn't your own, cackles interrupting every breath you took as they poured out from between your lips.

"Now this seems to be an effective extraction method." Elijah teased right next to your ear.

Klaus's hands wandered slightly lower, squeezing against your hipbones. Each pinch like his hands were scraping against you, making your skeleton vibrate with ticklish sensations.

"NAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" You pleaded, though no comprehendible sound came out. Being so caught up in the absolute agony of feelings you were experiencing, it took you a second before you realised the unholy screeching sound was coming from you. Your hips were just too much to bear, and your waist danced from side to side in an attempt to briefly escape the horrific fate you were being subjected to.

"This seems to be the killer Y/N!" Klaus simpered. "Wouldn't you agree?"

It was too much. You were about to snap. You couldn't breathe, you couldn't think. You didn't know if you'd ever feel again. No human has ever experienced this much pure sensation before, and there was nothing you could do but scream. Your eyes and ears were barely giving you any information about the world around you, every sense had shut down in the hopes to preserve what little sanity you had left.

This was it. The breaking point. You were on the edge of just letting go...

"If you boys are done playing, I've managed to figure it out without torturing poor Y/N."

Rebekah! Your knight in shining armour. The only way those torturous hands were anywhere near likely to retract.

"Excellent." Elijah grinned. "I suppose we're done here."

"Aw, but we were just getting started!" Klaus groaned, giving you a menacing wink.

"I'll sort it out, you two fix this mess." Rebekah said, but not before flashing you an amused smirk.

You watched your saviour exit the room, before letting your head hang limp towards the floor.

"Now, how to ensure you don't speak a word of this to anyone..." Klaus said, tapping a finger against his chin.

"Oh with the redness on their cheeks, I highly doubt they'd be sharing this little adventure with anyone." Elijah smirked, eliciting a blush from your traitorous cheeks. "Plus, this spell of yours should take a few days to wear off. If they go blabbing their mouth, who knows who may take advantage of this sensitive situation."

"In that case," Klaus took a step towards you, wriggling his fingers. "shall we continue?"

Elijah smirked. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt."

#fic #mine #tickletober2022 #tickletober day 9 #the originals #elijah #klaus #i hope this was ok and not too OOC im only on like season 1 but im obsessed with elijah #he gives off such ler energy and i cant stop thinking about it #im not usually a vampire guy #but damn id let him have a lil nibble of my neck #tw intense tickles (fiction)#FUCK THIS IS LONG IM SORRY #and late too #hopefully worth it ???

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catkin-morgs-kookaburralover · 1 year

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8, 9, 11, 17 for the writer/artist asks!

8. Do you have any OC family trees?

I do, from several years ago, but I can't remember where I put them. I could recreate them, tho.

9. Favourite OC?

Since I already answered this, I'll pick another favourite, Tom. His insecurity and struggles to unlearn habitual misogyny have captivated me because my boy is TRYING he's DOING HIS BEST at separating from the poor company that influenced him for years. He slips up, but he's still trying his best. Overall he's a very relatable character.

11. Sum up one or more of your wips!

I wouldn't exactly call this a wip because I haven't seriously worked on it for years, only bouncing around my brain a bit, but: Patience, the dear beloved knitting oc. I love her and her story and may even find it in me to write it during nanowrimo this year, if I haven't properly planned out any of the other ones I want to get written.

Patience copes with life by hiding away in a small sandstone cave a lot of the time, halfway up a mountain. She knits a Lot, so much so that she has to sell her pieces just so she can afford to buy enough yarn to knit with. This upsets her, but hey, she copes. She's really quite contented with her life, until one day she hears the rattling of *her* rope-and-stick ladder that *nobody else* uses, and a head pops up above the ledge. Unfortunately, its owner is trying to be friendly. Even more unfortunately, due to a combination of circumstances it is sprung on her completely without notice that this is her new adopted sister, Rhona. Patience does not like this. Patience Does Not Like This. However, she does her best to try and work with her, but Rhona just doesn't vibe very well, really. Time passes and her parents are at the end of their rope and it seems that Rhona will have to go elsewhere, though where they don't know. I completely steal a plot point from Dear Enemy in which Patience saves Rhona from a fire, in the process breaking several bones. While she recuperates, Rhona comes to understand her more and learn how Patience works and vibes and how they ought to interact, better. By the time Patience is well enough to go back to the cave as previously - having to overcome her newfound fear of heights, with Rhona's support - they are good friends and enjoy one another's company. In the final scene, Patience is teaching Rhona how to knit.

17. What are some tropes and character dynamics found in your wips?

The Sudden Realisation, in romance; I do not know how romance develops, or how feelings grow. If I have a POV character, either they're Suddenly Aware, or it's an already established thing. (Examples of the Suddenly Aware include both Tom and Adira - he realising he's not actually interested in another girl romantically, she by seeing a photo of them asleep together and going oh - and the established thing would be Paddy and Lilac.) I love the grumpy one/sunshiney one as a trope, and to some extent that's represented in Vaniah and Anneka's relationship, and certainly with Neil and Faith. (Spoilers!! Faith takes a while to be introduced and that relationship certainly surprises the other characters.) I can't think of any other tropes or dynamics off the top of my head rn, but if anyone wishes to pick them up in my writing and ask specifically about it, I'll answer, lol.

#knitting oc #nanowrimo 2023 #<- ? maybe #patience #rhona #adira #tom #taira #paddy #lilac #vaniah #anneka #neil #faith #ask #writing

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new-recreation · 1 year

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A Tokyo Tale: Trials, Triumphs, and the Path to Redemption

In the vibrant streets of Tokyo, where stories of resilience and redemption abound, my own narrative took an unexpected turn. It all began with a night of adventure and recklessness in the notorious neighborhood of Gotanda. Freshly unemployed and in search of a new job, I decided to let loose and make the most of the evening.

Venturing out alone, I stumbled upon two intriguing girls, whose initial allure masked a hidden agenda. We laughed, shared drinks, and engaged in mindless banter, even discovering a shared fondness for goats. But as the night progressed, the line between reality and haze blurred. In my intoxicated state, I found myself at the mercy of circumstances beyond my control.

As the evening wore on, we ran out of money. It was time to visit the dreaded ATM. In my intoxicated euphoria, I carelessly withdrew all the money I had—an exorbitant 2,000,000 yen. The warmth of the bills as they slid out of the ATM, a peculiar Japanese practice to eliminate bacteria, soon turned into a bitter sting. Hours later, I woke up with a pounding headache and a harsh reality crashing down upon me. The girls had vanished into thin air, along with my hard-earned cash. I was left not only empty-handed but also without a girl to show for my night of debauchery. Every last yen had slipped through my fingers, leaving me in a state of despair.

In the scorching heat of summer, I stepped out of my apartment, desperately searching for answers. I retraced my steps back to Gotanda, hoping for a chance encounter with one of the girls. Alas, they were nowhere to be found. Defeated, I returned home, surviving on the meager generosity of a stranger who offered me a skewer of chicken. My dingy little apartment became my sanctuary, where I sought solace by recounting the bizarre tale to a friend over the phone. But even that solace was short-lived, as I ran out of prepaid credit, leaving me truly on my own.

Days turned into weeks, and the realities of my dire situation set in. Cut off from my friends, who lived far away in Tokyo and beyond the reach of my prepaid phone, I faced a daunting challenge. The first week was spent emptying the refrigerator, trying to sustain myself. Water with a bit of soy sauce became my survival drink. But as the days wore on, desperation set in. I resorted to stealing food from the nearby Family Mart to quiet the gnawing hunger within me. Bread and eggs became the staples of my improvised meals, slipped surreptitiously into my backpack without paying.

Unfortunately, the omnipresent surveillance cameras in the store captured my desperate acts. The moment of reckoning arrived when I was apprehended by the police, my fate sealed by the damning evidence against me. The wheels of justice were set in motion, leading me down an uncharted path.

And so, the scene shifted to the confines of a Tokyo prison. I found myself in a small room, seated on a cold prison toilet, contemplating the choices that brought me here. The Tatami mats beneath my feet served as a constant reminder of my confinement. The guard's knock on the door signaled the time to be escorted to court.

Bound together with fellow inmates by handcuffs and a blue rope, we embarked on a solemn procession, boarding a bus that would take us to the courthouse. Through the window, I caught glimpses of the beauty of Tokyo, perhaps for one of the last times. The weight of impending judgment pressed upon me, mingling with a bittersweet appreciation for the city's enchanting allure.

At the courthouse, we were led into a room of holding cells, rows of benches facing each other, with a solitary toilet tucked away in the corner. Approximately 100 inmates, each with their own stories and struggles, awaited their turn for trial. Time stretched endlessly as we grappled with anticipation and anxiety, sustained only by the meager offering of two hot dog buns with jam and butter.

Eventually, my name was called, and I was thrust into a room where a state-appointed lawyer awaited, ready to navigate the complex legal maze on my behalf. Together, we strategized, pleading mental confusion as a defense. Though uncharted territory for me, this room became the battleground where my fate would be determined.

Leaving the lawyer's room, I faced the prosecutor, flanked by an interpreter who conveyed the accusations against me. The truth could not be denied—I had stolen from the Family Mart. The evidence presented, a folder filled with still images from the surveillance footage, left no room for doubt. With a heavy heart, I confessed to my wrongdoing and exited the room, my spirit weighed down by the consequences of my actions.

As the days turned into weeks, I found myself grappling with the gravity of my situation. In the sterile confines of the prison, I faced a new reality—one devoid of freedom, but pregnant with the potential for growth and redemption. The path to self-discovery awaited, an extraordinary journey that would test my resilience, redefine my priorities, and lead me to uncover a strength within myself that I never knew existed.

So here I stand, poised at the intersection of fate and determination, ready to navigate the trials and tribulations that lie ahead. This is my Tokyo tale—a narrative of trials, triumphs, and the arduous journey towards redemption. ---

After serving a five-month sentence, the day of my release finally arrived. I was summoned and led to a room where I could reclaim my personal belongings. As I inspected the items that were returned to me, which included various possessions from my apartment like my printer, I couldn't help but notice that my beloved $300 Trickers shoes were missing. Perplexed, I questioned the officers, "What use do I have for a printer in my carry-on? Where are my cherished shoes?" They explained that due to limitations, certain items such as furniture couldn't be retrieved, perhaps including my valuable footwear. Despite my disappointment, I meticulously checked through everything and decided to let go of the printer, instructing them to keep it.

As I bid farewell to the room, I was escorted into a transport vehicle that would take me to the airport. We discreetly entered through a rear entrance, maintaining a sense of privacy. Soon, I found myself seated in a Thai Air plane, flanked by two officers who remained dutifully by my side. The journey began, taking us to Bangkok for a brief layover before continuing our voyage to Zurich under the watchful eye of the police. Throughout the flights, the officers remained professional, ensuring my secure passage.

Finally, in Zurich, the time came for the officers to release me from their custody. With a sense of liberation, I stepped onto the ground, feeling the freedom beneath my feet. The officers, having fulfilled their duty, bid me farewell, allowing me to continue my journey independently, ready to embrace the newfound chapter of my life.

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hearteyedprincess · 2 years

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i v much dont normally make original posts on this blog, but I have to write this down somewhere

so. i properly experienced self bondage for the first time today. i've been practicing what can very very generously be described as self bondage for, like, a very long time lmao (love to be part of that generation that was, like, exposed to incredibly inappropriate content at a very very inappropriate age!!). back before college, what my attempts generally entailed were getting a bunch of belts and 'tying' myself up with them, maybe making them just the right tightness so i could wiggle my arms in if I was feeling ~spicy~. but, like, it was always easy to just... get out, yknow? the loss of control was, like, roleplayed, not actually experienced

in college i stole some rope from a sorority house (less scandalous that it sounds, it was in the attic and was unopened- someone probably got it for hiking or climbing or smth and just forgot about it) and actually started properly tying myself up, but it was still, like. like that sense of fakeness. i did frogties and made little slipknot handcuffs that I could attach to a collar I got, even a harness a couple times (and one super hot time where I hogtied myself lmao). but it was all stuff that I could just easily untie. even the sort of handcuffs kept my hands right next to each other so it was super easy to just loosen them lol

but then today. my god, today. i was feeling horny and, quite frankly, INCREDIBLY stupid, and i recently got a four poster bed, so i decided. hey. why not get two of my little slipknot handcuffs and tie my arms to the posts at the head of my bed?

it took me a sec to realize that I'd kinds fucked myself over. it was fun and exciting at first!! a new interesting position to try and add in when i play with myself, you know. I'd put on some nipple clamps, but no vibrator unfortunately because mine broke a while back (god. would have loved to have a vibrator for that tho LMAO). and then after a little bit i got bored, and decided to let myself out. and couldnt.

my brain, like, could not physically comprehend that I couldn't just move one hand over to the other. i kept accidentally trying to, obviously to no avail. i admittedly don't tie the best knots, so I tried pulling some, and for the first time my fucking knots held up. under different circumstances, i'll admit, this probably would have been incredibly hot to me. however, i didn't particularly want to have to yell for a family member to come downstairs and help me, so it turned into a problem to solve. luckily I had my nail cutting tools next to my bed (not intentionally, mind. was truly pure luck) so i didn't start panicking and instead started trying to cut through the rope. after, like, ten minutes of trying that i wasn't making all that much progress, so i decided to try something else, and, very triumphantly, managed to loosen one of the knots with my foot enough that i could get my hand out. and then i just sat and thought about it for a sec.

the circumstances weren't great this time, but, god. it was the first time i truly felt like i didn't have control of the situation. i want to do it again so bad even though i know that is fantastically stupid. and, god, the thought ran through my head when i was struggling to get out of calling a friend of mine who i have a sort of crush on and just. the thought of, like, if my feet had also been tied and I didnt have any scissors or anything nearby, the thought of being truly, completely at someone else's mercy is just. fuck. FUCK. i want it so fucking bad lmao

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pixla · 3 years

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hi hon! i adore your writing and i have a request for tommy: so you know that scene in the caves when alice breaks her leg and cindy has to like put the bone back into place? could that be with tommy x gn! reader instead? and both of them have a really really cute moment where the reader confesses how they never felt alive until they met and started dating tommy? they both survive and flashforward with fluffy smut pls?

Special thanks to the j-st-patricks-day and all my friends who helped with the process of writing this fic <3

broken bones and beating hearts

Tommy slater x nb!reader

Warnings: swearing, graphic descriptions of murder, graphic descriptions of injury (eg. Broken bones and stabbings/cuts), Possessed!Cindy, alice dies, Arnie dies, vomiting, fluff, pet-names, knocking out teeth, sex, unprotected sex, this au doesn’t fit with any of the other films (feel free to tell me if there’s any others)

Word count: 3.2k

POVC= point of view change

Tommy gripped your wrists pulling you out through the narrow cavern as it collapsed only seconds later. “Fuck!” You tucked your legs close to your body, trying to shake the feeling of Cindy's grip around your ankles. “What the fuck is happening?” You looked up as Tommy still held you close, you both too scared to move from the previous near death experience.

Everything was normal. You had all just ran out into the woods, you and Alice teasing Cindy about some stupid witchcraft book she had found in nurse lane’s office. But then Cindy decided to slash Alice and Arnie’s guts open with a machete.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck!” You cried, bawling your hands into fists, wandering down what felt like endless hallways. You both soon realised that you had been going in a circle. It didn’t make any sense, it felt like another dimension or a mirror maze, where everything looked the same, maybe even was the same. “Y/N.” You turned your head to face tommy. “What?” He looked at you confused. “I didn’t say anything.”

You were going to shake it off as you just imagining it, but then you heard it again. “Y/N!” This time you knew it wasn’t Tommy, it was a woman. “Hello?!” You yelled out, hoping that someone had finally come to your rescue, but Tommy just continued to look at you like you were crazy.

You strayed from Tommy’s side following as the voice repeated your name. “Where are you going?” Tommy yelled after you as you wandered, not bothering to pay any attention to his questions.

You followed the voice, bending through the same corridors and hallways, not knowing where you’d end up. It was when you twisted round one corner you halted in your steps. It was a huge room, far larger than any of the ones you had previously found. But the greatest way it stood out was the mass in the centre of the room.

It was dark and fleshy, like clumps of meat thrown into a pile. You gasped as you stood closer gaining a better look at the thing. It was alive. It rose up and down almost like it was breathing and it thumped like a beating heart. With each whisper of your name you grew closer, drawn to it. You reached your hand out transfixed, but when your hand melted into its flesh, you froze.

It all flashed through your brain so fast. Cyrus Miller, ruby lane, billy baker…Cindy Berman. It was every single one of those shadyside phycos, even Cindy. It was all of the pain, all of the suffering and all of the evil. You lifted your hand, a thick slime dragging with. You backed up slowly, expecting to hit a wall. You were soon proved wrong when you felt your body fly backwards.

You cried out as you landed with a thud, Tommy finally catching up to you, peering over to find you clutching your leg in pain. “Shit, are you okay?!”

He had jumped down helping to lift you from the pit. You sobbed, tears running down your cheeks like a broken faucet, your hands clutching at His shirt. Tommy held you running his finger gently through your hair, shushing you softly as you buried yourself into his warmth.

Tommy gently slipped from your hold, leaning down to examine the damage. It was bad. So bad, you could practically see the bone protruding from the skin. You felt your gut wrench at the sight causing you to lean over beside you, regurgitating your dinner onto the cold cave floor. “Don’t look, okay? Just look at me.” Tommy leant over wiping your mouth with his jacket. You nodded slowly, trying your best to keep your eyes locked with Tommy’s despite how hard your morbid curiosity urged you to look down. Ripping his plaid jacket into strips he looked up at you. “We’re gonna get out of here. You’re gonna get out of here. No matter what I do, I’m gonna make sure I protect you, just like I always have.”

“I love you so much Tommy. I’ve never and never will love someone the way I do you.” You lean into him pressing your foreheads together. “I can’t lose you, okay?” He nods sympathetically, pressing a light kiss to the slope of your nose.

“Do you remember those dates we’d go on, out to the forest at night, and we’d just lay there, staring up through the cracks in the trees?” You nod. “I want you to think about that, okay? I want you to think about how many more we’ll go on once we get out of here.”

You hold a tight grip on his arm as he wipes away at the area. “I’m gonna have to put it back into place now.”

You pleaded with him, as the tears started again. “Please, no. Please just leave me here. Just go and find help okay? I can’t do it Tommy, I can’t do it”

“Hey, hey, hey. C’mon, look at me.” He places his hand on your cheek, tilting your head to look him in the eye. “You're gonna be fine, okay? You just gotta focus right now.” You nod timidly, the tears starting to slow.

He holds the bottom of your calf with one hand and your heel with the other. “Just count to three and I’m gonna do it, okay baby?” He looks up at you, his soft words lulling your anxiety. You bite your knuckle nervously, unsure as to how you should answer, but the look of trust in his eyes persuades you easily. “Okay.”

You breathe in. “One, two-” You let out a blood curdling scream as a large crack rung out, bouncing against the walls of the cave. Your fist gripped Tommy’s forearm tightly as you cried out a series of various curses. “You fucking asshole.” You whine out in pain, letting out an airy laugh trying to brighten your rather dull circumstances.

“You're okay baby.” You wince as he wraps the piece of fabric he had ripped from his jacket around your leg, tying it tight enough to hold you together for the moment. You grabbed Tommy’s shoulder as he wrapped his arm around your waist lifting you from the ground. You hiss as you feel your leg throb from the sudden movement. “Do you think you’re able to stand?” Tommy watches as you wobble trying to stay grounded. You nod. “Yeah.” You had no choice and you both knew it, if you wanted to live, you’d have to.

You both started your journey, finally entering a new environment as you trudged deeper into the earth of Shadyside. Why did these tunnels even exist? The intricate details of the maze made it easy to come to the conclusion that they were man made, but by who? Not once had you ever heard of these tunnels, and by the looks of it, nobody else had either, despite nurse Lane of course.

“Be careful.” Tommy tightened his grip around you. “You might slip.”

“Okay.” You mumble, too exhausted to form a real answer. You looked around at the walls, floor and ceiling. The further the two of you walked, the denser this moss became. You felt a wave of familiarity but you couldn’t quite place it. Red moss…red moss! It hit you, Cindy! Her red stained shirt, she said it was from the moss in the outhouses. “Tommy! It’s the fucking outhouses! We fucking made it!” You would probably be jumping up and down with joy right now if it wasn’t for your broken leg.

You look up, spotting the out house toilet openings. Wow, real nice, you’re both sitting in Sunnyvale shit and piss right now. “Yeah, but how are we supposed to get out?” Tommy sighs looking up at the roughly 15 foot climb. “You can’t climb that.”

You look at him. “Yeah, but you might.”

“No. I’m sorry but no, I’m not leaving you down here, especially when there’s Cindy running around up there trying to kill us. C’mon let’s go, if we’re at the outhouses, we must be near to camp.” He directs you along but before you can both carry on your interrupted. “Did you hear that?!”

“No I-“

“Shush.” You both stayed quiet listening as to what caught your attention. It’s screaming. Someone is screaming from the outhouses. “Hey! Help! Please, we’re stuck down here!” You yell trying to get the attention of the voices.

The space grows quiet as the screaming halts, the both of you waiting nervously for any indication of life when a head pops out from one of the seat holes. “What the fuck are you guys doing in the toilets?!”

It was ziggy, Cindy's sister. “Ziggy..” you wonder if it’s right to tell her what’s happened to her sister but you decide against it, not wanting to put the girl in such an emotionally vulnerable state whilst she’s already physically. “Gary’s up here too!” She yells down as Gary’s head pops out another toilet hole. “Hey!” He yells, surprisingly light heartedly considering there’s a murderer running around camp butchering little kids with a fucking machete. “Can you get us out of this fucking toilet or not?!”

Gary had managed to make some sort of bucket contraption with some rope. “It’s just like You’re Gothel climbing up Rapunzel's hair, okay?!” He yelled down, lowering it down to you.

You're about to slip onto the contraption when you hear Ziggy's unfortunately very familiar screams, and before you know it Gary’s decapitated body lies beside you on the floor. You and Tommy let out an in sync gasp, him pulling you away into his chest, as to protect you from the image. “We’re gonna have to find another way out.”

You think to yourself. Alice…she had shown you something whilst you were robbing nurse lanes office with Arnie. “I know how.” You pull out the book that started this whole thing.

“Baby, I don’t get how that book is gonna help us, let’s be honest it’s some random witches and wizards bullshit written how many hundreds of years ago?”

“No, tommy.” You turn the book to him parting the pages. “It’s a map.” You rest the book on the floor, the two of you leaning over it. “It's a map of camp, you see over here, these x’s are the graves we found. And over here, that’s where we entered.” You point your finger on the page. “Here, there’s another exit. Mess hall.”

His eyes lighten. “Jesus, fuck! You’re so smart!” He pulls you in for a kiss.

—-

You sat, your back arched over as you watched Tommy laid on his back kicking open the vent that led to the mess hall when another scream rang out. You instantly knew that it was ziggy, far too acquainted with the tone of her screams.

“Tommy!” With one final kick the vent flew open, Tommy hauling himself through in a split second. “Don’t move, stay here! I’m gonna go help Ziggy.”

Tommy always cared so much for the kids at camp, you honestly weren’t surprised that he was willing to risk his life for one of them.

—povc—

Tommy barged through the doors of the mess hall, an all too familiar song ringing through the speakers, the noise made his head thump as it blared.

Tommy followed the screams, grabbing a mallet that lied on a nearby counter. Cindy stood beating at a supply closet door as ziggy screamed from within. Tommy pulled cindy's shoulder for her to face him as he swung the mallet into her jaw. Cindy tumbled to the ground as she spat a mouthful of blood and teeth onto the floor. Tommy hesitated holding the mallet in his hand, ready to strike Cindy. But before he could come to any decision Cindy grabbed her machete from the ground slicing at Tommy’s thigh.

Tommy dropped to the floor, his mallet sliding across the freshly mopped floor tiles, Cindy rising to her feet, towering over Tommy. Overpowered, he crawled backwards digging the heels of his hands into the cold tile floor. He was braced for impact when Cindy stopped turning around.

—povc—

You lunged at her digging the knife you found into her back, pulling it out as she turned to face you, plunging it into her chest over and over until she hit the floor unresponsive. You fell. You had finally reached your limit. Your leg was broken for fucks sake and you just murdered Cindy. Pure-hearted, hard working Cindy Berman. You plunged your knife deep into her chest until you split it down the middle. You dragged your body over to Tommy’s wrapping your arms around him, wetting his shirt as you became inconsolable. He held his hand at the back of your neck placing soft kisses onto the top of your head. “It’s okay baby, it’s okay. She’s dead now, we’re gonna be okay.”

You heard as ziggy opened the closet door, dropping to her knees at the sight of her sister dead on the floor. The red headed girl pulled her sister's body over to face her, wrapping her arms around Cindy crying into her cold lifeless body. You crawled over to the girl pulling her away from her sister's touch into yours. “I’m sorry.” You whispered.

The three of you struggled as you heard the last bell ring signalling that the bus would be leaving. Ziggy yelled out as the bus doors began to close. The wheels began to roll forwards but before it could depart a boy budged the doors open, calling out to her. “Ziggy!” You released your grip from the girl's side as she ran to him, embracing him. You rested your head on Tommy’s shoulder at the sight of the two. “I hope she’ll be okay.”

The two of you had found a place on the bus as Ziggy sat with you fellow councillor Nick goode. Finally being able to breathe, you rest your head on Tommy’s shoulder. “I’m so glad you're okay.” You look up at him smiling at his words. “Maybe you're the one who really needs protecting, without me you’d be dead meat.” You press your lips together, smiling softly into the kiss. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I had lost you.”

Your eyes wandered to the window watching as the camp nightwing sign slowly floated away out of sight. Finally it was over.

———

After the accident medics treated and hospitalised many of the camp nightwing campers and counselors such as you and Tommy. Your leg was thankfully saved. They said if not for Tommy it probably would have had to be amputated due to infection.

It was two months since that night, you still had to use crutches but besides that, you made a speedy recovery alongside tommy. Although he was in a much less critical condition than you and was discharged within a few days, he still spent every night in the hospital with you.

You laid beside Tommy his leg slotted between yours as the velvet underground played softly in the background. You run your fingers through his hair slowly as he whines quietly into your chest. It finally felt like the first time since that day that you both could finally relax.

You pulled away from his touch leaning over him, kissing his lips softly. “You look so pretty.” You hum. He smiles into the kiss. “Not as much as you, baby.”

You lifted yourself straddling Tommy’s hips, deepening the kiss as your hands ran down playing with the hem of his shirt, travelling underneath. He pulls away, his hand rubbing your thigh. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“I’m okay.” You reassure him, pressing soft kisses along his collarbone. You removed your shirt as Tommy’s hands floated up to your waist.

“God, you're so beautiful.” He mumbles, kissing up your chest slowly as you take off your pyjama shorts, throwing them to the floor.

You lean down unbuttoning Tommy’s jeans, taking him in your hand. Tommy twitches at the contact as you align himself to you. You lower yourself onto him slowly as his hands hold a firm grip on your lower back. Tommy lays his head back, his hips thrusting up into you.

You shiver as you lift yourself up and down, your thighs shaking from the stimulation. His thrusts hardened, your soft whimpers of his name encouraging him. “You look so fucking good right now.” He gripped your waist helping you keep a steady pace.

You steadied yourself, leaning your arms out pressing your hands against his chest as you felt yourself near your climax. “Shit, Tommy I’m gonna come.” You whined under your breath.

“Don’t worry baby, me too.” He runs his hands down your back lovingly.

You threw your head back as you felt Tommy’s hand wander down edging you on further, your breath quivering at the touch. You felt his hips buckle beneath you as he reached his peak, yours following soon after.

You sighed your body collapsing onto his chest. “I love yours so much.” You mumble into his skin as he presses a soft kiss against your forehead.

—-

It was the 16th anniversary since that day at nightwing, the two of you still happily together. Despite the permanent scar that night had left on the both of you mentally and physically, you both managed to stay strong, the event probably making the two of you even closer than you already were before.

Every year instead of hiding from the memories of that night, you both embrace it. Tommy’s favourite way to do this was to ‘reenact your youths’ in his words by driving the two of you out to the forest, where you would’ve spent so many nights together when you were younger.

You would open the sunroof and lay out the seats creating a little bed for the two of you. Probably not the safest thing the two of you could do, but most definitely the sweetest.

The two of you laid there staring up at the trees, resting your head on Tommy’s chest, your arm draped across his abdomen. Looking up at him you pressed a small kiss to the slope of his nose, pressing your heads together. The moonlight glazed over his cheeks, giving him a paler look. “You look so beautiful.”

—-

The car ride home was quiet but the atmosphere felt soft and comforting as Tommy rested his hand on your inner thigh. The velvet underground played softly on the radio as your eyes gazed out at the passing scenery.

#fear street #fear street 1978 #fear street 1994 #fear street 1666 #tommy slater #simon kalivoda #fear street x reader #tommy slater x reader #simon kalivoda x reader

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youarejesting · 3 years

Text

Sea [1/2]

Beta: @lillielil @aroseforyoongi @seokjinssymphony @kpooplifeforever @explosiveranga & my good friend Z (let me know if I left anyone out.) Rating: 17+ Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Reader Genre: Action, Adventure, Angst, Fluff, Comedy, slow burn, slice of life. Words: 6.8k

Summary: After your plane to Korea takes an unexpected detour, you are stranded with someone you aren’t even sure speaks English. As the race begins to stay alive, emotions run high and tempers short. The unlikely contender in the survival race is love which snuck up on you both.

The thought of a thirteen-hour flight didn't bring you much joy. Why would it? Being trapped in a small box with wings, not to mention being stuck in said box with multiple people breathing recycled farts and eating some sort of wet styrofoam they called food that would most definitely give you food poisoning. Oh yes, what a joy it would be to be in a seat for hours on end, letting your skin slowly dry up.

Arriving at the terminal, you stood waiting for them to start boarding. You would have been sitting if there was a single seat free. Seriously, some asshole had even dared to lay across no less than five and a half seats, his bag resting on the empty chair at the end.

He was wearing all black and looked comfortable in his jeans and hoodie. His black cap pulled down over his eyes and you could see the bleached blonde hair sticking out from underneath. Big chunky headphones on his ears made it possible for this man to drown out the world around him.

You glared at his legs, growing tired, knowing that within a few hours you would be begging for the chance to stand up. If you were to take a mental count, there hadn’t been any nice experiences you could recall in regards to traveling on a plane.

Did that reflect the quality of service or your standard of air travel? No. Obviously, your standards were realistic, not expecting the flight time any shorter or the staff to give a foot massage or anything outrageous.

You really didn't want any extra luxuries other than what was offered in the pamphlet — and yes, that meant you chose first-class — because if you were to suffer, you would do so in the best environment.

Unfortunately, the reality of it was that there was no better or more comfortable way to travel. Checking in, you would be boarding first before the other passengers, not really a privilege. However you got in line anyway behind the young man who had previously been lounging across the airport seats. He was holding up the line having lost his passport and you were getting more and more pissed.

You were simply just having a bad day.

A woman behind you started openly arguing, exclaiming that this man was not allowed to ride first class as he clearly wasn’t fit for it. Bringing up his style of dress and the headphones around his neck. You turned, glaring daggers at the woman until she became silent.

Society taught people to judge based on appearance, that everyone fit into a category, never mind the old adage to ‘never judge a book based on it’s cover’. Stil, you were always respectful and treated others equally, maybe even getting to know a person that you wouldn’t in other circumstances. It always surprised you how much you enjoyed taking a risk and getting to know them.

Once you showed your ticket and passport, you traveled down the long hall towards the plane. You saw the man in front of you talking with another man. He seemed to respect him and was reading him a schedule from his phone. You raised your eyebrows and smiled at the young stewardess who welcomed you on board. Her hair was pristine in a tight bun and her crisp, dark blue outfit was paired with a red scarf.

Stepping over the small gap, you felt the cold of the air conditioning, yet the air still felt thick. There were three places you could go to feel this type of cold: the dentist, an airplane, or the movies. First class was spacious with only a single cubicle on either side of the aisle. You took your seat. It was like personal rooms where you could close a sliding screen for more privacy, even though you were sitting next to someone, you wouldn't be able to see them at all.

The seats were more like arm chairs that one could lay back completely in, made with a brilliant blue leather. The cubicle room was complemented in a similar shade but with red features. You had a tv and a tiny minibar that had a small selection of drinks and snacks.

The flight attendants took all the passengers through the safety instructions. You could practically write them at this point. However they added a few things you had never heard. You had never heard such in-depth instructions going beyond the general life jackets, floatation devices, and first aid kits.

Never before had they told you about the airbags that would be deployed if you crash in the ocean. Apparently the emergency escape slides doubled as floatation devices and could hold up to one hundred and thirty people comfortably. They even explained how they detach these rafts from the fuselage and that they have ropes that allow them to be tied off to each other or the airframe.

Distracted by a tired male sighing beside you, you wondered who would fall asleep during the safety messages. Sure they were boring, but even you pretended to care. When you turned to see the culprit, he was disappearing behind the plastic divider of his cubicle dragged by his long pale fingers.

Well, at least you had some privacy. It was something you were thankful for, you wanted to get comfortable, or as comfortable as you could.

Perhaps these new instructions and information were deemed irrelevant to domestic flights. Or perhaps it was for the very enthusiastic kid they led through the first class discussing more of the plane's anatomy. “What if a wing falls off?”

“The plane is really sturdy, the wing wouldn’t just fall off” She grinned, “Let’s see what the pilot is doing and we can get your mum a picture wearing the captain's hat!”

After the flight attendants thanked everyone for listening, the plane took to the sky. You closed up all sides of your cubicle and requested to be only woken for meals. The stewardess was very diligent and for that you were grateful.

The journey was nearing the six hour mark and all that one could see was clouds and the ocean. The collection of empty water bottles were a poignant reminder to relieve your bladder.

You stood up and waddled determined to go to the bathroom. It was inconvenient to drink so much water but you didn't want to get dehydrated.

Feeling much better, you took a few minutes to look in the mirror and moisturise as your skin was feeling particularly dry already. Startled from your self care routine by a light rapping on the door, you packed up your things and pulled open the door. Unfortunately, at that moment, the plane shook.

It was like something from a romance novel, the way you fell against him and yet, there was nothing elegant or poetic in the way you fell against him.

Your face slammed into his chest and his head hit the wall with a heavy thud. "Sorry, I'm sorry"

"Shibal" he said, his language was something unlike you have ever heard, it was rhythmic and sounded like a song. His voice was so low and rumbly it almost sounded like he was purring.

You weren’t well versed in other languages or cultures, so you didn’t know what he was saying. This was your first time leaving your country. If it wasn’t for the damn holiday raffle at work, you wouldn’t have even left your house. Every other flight you had ever been on was domestic and therefore your suffering was short lived, but this flight was long and you were getting rather bored. It seemed your mind was reeling trying to absorb all that it could and currently that meant the poor man you had body slammed into the wall was under your perusal.

His body was thin unlike yours which was curvaceous. His hair was dark and shaggy making his pale skin almost ghostly. He had sharp cat-like eyes that were quite intimidating as they glared at you and his small downturned lips were yet to speak. He seemed like a man of few words. All this coldness was juxtaposed by his cute round nose. You could tell from his features that he was from Asia, but you couldn't pinpoint where.

Grabbing your shoulders, he started to push you off of him, when the plane shook again and you both fell back into the small bathroom. Your back hit the toilet, and a searing pain bloomed from the impact causing your body to lock up as it radiated through you.

The seat belt light came on. You both scrambled to your feet bumping into the walls, sink and each other from the unstable winds shaking the plane. Struggling back to your seats when the cabin pressure changed. There was a creaking sound and the plane started shaking. You immediately felt a sick sense of dread. The pilot spoke calmly about turbulence and requested everyone return to their seats. But the pair of you couldn't move down the aisle to your seats.

There was a sound like a car backfiring and someone from economy class shouted about the wing being on fire. Your grip on the young man's coat tightened and a terrifying sound like metal groaning filled the cabin. That didn’t sound like regular turbulence, you were sure of that.

Sharing a horrified look with the young man, you got up the courage to try to push off from the wall. Unsuccessful, you were once more pressed against the wall. The plane was plummeting. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the emergency box. What was this emergency and what in that box could fix this situation?

"You need to return to your seats,” the stewardess said. The smell of smoke was strong and it filled the inside of the plane quickly. You hadn’t even seen the stewardess trying to climb through the plane. Her grip strained on the walls and seats as she fought against the force pushing her back. “We are making an emergency landing."

The metal sound was louder. Shrieking like nails on a chalkboard, it pierced through the cabin. You watched as the side of the plane ripped completely off with the ease of someone removing the plastic off a new fridge. There was a feeling of being weightless before a drop on a roller coaster, and then it was like your stomach was left behind. The stewardess was sucked out from the cabin behind you.

You and the young Asian man were sliding backwards down the aisle trying to find something to grab onto. The floor in first class was some sort of linoleum and gave you a nasty burn as you slid. It was like fire against your skin. As the pilot fought with the plane, you practically bounced off every seat.

It felt like you were weightless for a brief moment as you were lifted off the ground, your back hit the roof before you smacked the floor again. All the wind had been knocked out of you.

The pilots were fighting against the drop, so in the moment of calm before the plummet, you grabbed the leg of an economy class seat as it was bolted to the ground. You looked at the young man, watching the panic as he realized he was too far away to hold on and dangerously close to the large opening. He began slipping out of the plane, his hands flailing before clamping around your ankle. The two of you were almost hanging outside the plane.

Everyone in economy class was panicking and wearing oxygen masks. No wonder you couldn’t breathe. Gasping for breath, you cursed yourself for liking all those action movies that made this look easy.

“Hold on!” You all but screamed more to yourself than the poor guy holding your leg. He was being completely battered by the wind. You felt his hands slipping and you reached down with one hand to grab his wrist and he grabbed yours. He looked thankful.

“Shibal,” he groaned, his voice straining. Your body was being stretched. The cold metal was unforgiving, and it tore apart the skin on your palm. Your eyes were watering in protest to the wind and smoke that was drying them out.

The drink trolley that the stewardesses had been moving through the aisles had gotten loose and went flying down the plane. It hit an old man in the back of the head. You knew he wouldn’t make it, and speaking of, it was headed straight for you. You watched in fear, like some horrifying game of chicken as the trolley came for you. Thankfully, it bounced on the floor inches from your hand and flew out of the plane.

It was a mix of flinching and the force of the wind that made your hand on the chair slip. You slid further out of the plane, grabbing the exposed shell of the plane with your free hand. Your other hand desperately clutching the young man's hand watching in horror as he smacked into the side of the plane unconscious. “Shit!”

His body was limp and you had to do something. With all the strength you had, you tried to pull his flailing form closer to protect him. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the ocean quickly advancing. You were going to hit the water.

The breeze pressing against you was fierce. Your eyes were dry, making you think of your eyedrops in your carry-on luggage. You could see the water coming up quicker now; you tried to gauge what would be a survivable height. Knowing you had a higher chance of surviving freediving as opposed to hanging halfway from the plane, where you would both slam head first into the plane. You decided to take the leap.

Screaming in absolute terror as you watched the fast approaching water, you let go just in time. It was equivalent to a few stories on a building from the ground. Wrapping him in your arms, you pointed yourselves down deciding to break the fall. Lifting your free hand above your head like you were doing a high dive, you hit the water. It was such a shock, the liquid was so cold it caused your muscles to lock up.

Your adrenaline was pumping, and one of your arms felt numb and unresponsive. You swam oddly to the surface, gasping when you felt the air on your skin. He was unconscious, and you held his face out of the water.

The plane wasn't too far away and for now was on the surface of the water. The emergency exit inflatable slide, which doubled as a raft, had been deployed but no survivors seemed to climb out.

You swam in a side stroke to keep your damaged arm and the young man's unconscious form out of the water. You hoped he was going to be okay. The only thought in your head was making it to the raft and you were doing everything in your power to get there, even contemplating leaving him behind. But you weren't going to give up, a part of you wanted to prove you could do it.

Reaching the raft felt euphoric. Taking a deep breath you pushed him into the raft. Doing a quick check of his head and body, you noticed he was breathing oddly. You turned him on his side and tried to clear his airway. A little bit of water trickled out before you performed CPR. Your saving grace came when he coughed and spluttered, placing him in the recovery position and hoping he would be okay on his own for a moment. You looked around for any more survivors. There was luggage floating around, and you picked up all you could from the water.

Walking along the inflatable back into the plane, the water was not as high in first class. This was probably due to the hole in the plane in the economy. The right side being the only one of the inflatables that had inflated beside the plane. Keeping the plane precariously afloat balancing on two inflatables which had malfunctioned and inflated under the plane.

Moving quickly and wading through the icy water, you grabbed the emergency kits on the wall. You had passed by deceased passengers and tried not to look. It was eerie and unbelievable even though it had only just happened.

Bags littered the water and you guided them towards the exit and put them on the raft. You could save these people's possessions for their family, or there could be items inside that could be of use and save your life.

You also noticed the flight attendant area and raided the cupboards as quickly as you could. You grabbed the medical kit, some slippers, a range of very thin blankets that were wet and even some snacks carrying everything back to the floatation rafts. As an afterthought you braved a second trip back into the plane to grab your and the other man’s overhead luggage as you knew he would likely appreciate it.

Finding a bunch of cell phones floating around the cabin. You grabbed them all hoping one would be waterproof. You found a few that were still turned on, but only one seemed to have some sort of signal. The plane creaked as you started making the emergency call.

“Come on” you begged the phone to connect. The whole plane creaked again and tilted; it wouldn’t last long. You had desperately searched for survivors but there was no one obviously alive. You tried your best to check their vitals, but time was running out. Hopefully, you wouldn’t be cursed for pronouncing everyone dead.

"Hello, this is an emergency service hotline?" A voice cut through the silence, you looked at the phone about to cry in relief "fire, ambulance or police"

"Hello, we were in a plane crash, my name is y/n, we were on a flight from Los Angeles to Seoul"

"What is your location?" the woman said, confused by your description.

"The ocean" you hissed "we are on a life raft"

"How many people are with you, what are their names?"

"Just one. I don't know his name. He is asian. Um really thin, um, has dark hair and—”

"You seem to be breaking up" the emergency operator said with the voice cutting out. You looked down at the phone in your hand and sighed. Of course, if everything was going wrong, a phone in the middle of the ocean apparently won’t save you. You thought to yourself, ‘it is 2021 so why isn’t service available everywhere?’ Pocketing the phone you began making your way out the plane.

You headed back to the inflatable and made the decision to cut the plane free. Scared that it would bring the raft down with it. Grabbing more luggage from the water, you thought it best not to watch the plane sink. It would only make you feel worse.

The time went by slowly. It took hours for the plane to disappear. Even though you had promised yourself not to look, you had. Taking glances as the plane slowly sank and you drifted further away.

The moment the plane was no longer in sight, you curled up and let the tears fall. The sun began setting and the heat turned into a bitter cold. Your wrist was still quite swollen, and you decided to wrap it as you drifted along. You had been so sure that there would be something or someone to see you drifting, and you would be saved.

However one cold night became two, and then three, only breaking for the scorching heat of the day.

You thanked yourself for watching all those ‘lost on an island’ movies and television shows; you had learned some things along the way. You also had your father to thank for always dragging you along to the volunteer emergency services programs, ones where you learned how to survive in a forest. At the time you thought it was super lame for your friends to go to nice hotels by the beach for their holidays and you were making some sort of mealworm dish while making stick shelters.

Going over the information you had in your head, you knew water was the priority. The instructor had said humans can go three weeks without food, three days without water, three hours without shelter and three minutes without air.

The sun would dehydrate you quickly. You had made a small shelter with luggage and blankets to protect you from the sun.

If you didn’t find land, you were going to have to make some sort of man-made evaporation device to create water. As it was, you were slowly getting the unconscious young man to drink little amounts of bottled water, for he too needed to stay hydrated.

The man you were with had awoken the third day. He seemed a little freaked out about being alone at sea. You explained calmly, not wanting him to do anything drastic and he sat there processing things.

You gave him a bottle of water and something to eat. The two of you continued drifting, not speaking a word to one another. You spent most of the time trying to craft something to float on the ocean and create clean drinking water.

(This evaporation device floats on the ocean and mimics rain by the water droplets sticking to the plastic cover over the whole device when weighted in the middle it then drips back down into a bottle. I can find a reference picture if you need. [Here] [Here] [This one is like what I made in 7th grade camp])

But you couldn’t get the water to land in the bottle and the bottle to stay upright. He was no help, just laying in the shelter out of the sun. The raft was big enough for about one hundred and thirty people. And yet, the two of you sat close by and didn’t say a word.

You were covered in sweat and felt absolutely disgusting. It was time for you to get changed. What a stupid way to die, not from dehydration, or malnourishment, or even sun exposure, but from lack of hygiene. It was decided.

“I am getting changed, don’t look,” you breathed, opening your carry-on bag.

“I don’t want look,” he muttered back in English and turned away. You quickly put on something that covered your shoulders and tried getting some rest. You didn't want to alarm him, but you both had consumed the last of the water and food rations.

It was late that night when you heard a different sound. The raft was moving a lot more. These were big waves and a part of you hoped it was not a tsunami or whale activity.

When the sound got louder, you were reminded of the beach when waves crashed on the sand. Looking up, you saw something big approaching. It was a body of land. Suddenly, your chances of survival greatly increased, now that you had a way to get out of the water. Nervous about putting your hands in the pitch black water, you looked at your companion peacefully sleeping and made the decision to paddle slowly. Anything to increase your chances of getting to safety. You eventually washed up on the beach, arms aching and stepped out to drag the raft onto the sand.

It was late and still dark, but you had to do something. Thinking that perhaps if you found someone, you would both be saved straight away. You waited on the raft until the sky lightened, and then you got to work collecting sticks and starting a small fire. You took the empty water bottles, hoping to find a clean water source or some fresh water that you could boil.

You walked to the highest point in sight, not seeing any signs of large predatory animals was a good sign. When you reached the top, you felt a sense of satisfaction as you had overcome the many trials and tribulations. You made it through a plane crash, survived on the water, and made it to land.

Looking around, you saw something bone-chilling. This was an island and judging by the lack of people, houses or establishments, it was uninhabited. There was no civilization to be seen. You saw the tufts of smoke from your fire and tried not to cry. You were stuck here until someone could rescue you.

Pushing the minor breakdown aside, you thought about water, it was important. Scanning the island, there seemed to be a small waterfall and tiny lagoon at the bottom. Since the rain, the waterfall was running pretty fiercely. You mapped out a path back to the beach which would detour past the waterfall.

By the time you reached the beach, your arms were exhausted with the weight of the now filled water bottles. He was awake and briskly brushing his reddened cheeks with his sleeves, turning his back to you. Sympathising with the man who probably thought you died, fell overboard or abandoned him.

You pulled out the metal pot from the plane and began boiling the water, in an attempt to kill any bacteria in it. The tide was going out. you knew you should be thinking about food as the next priority, but you wanted to sleep. Being primarily awake for a few days was taking its toll.

It took everything in you to get yourself to move and get to work. Taking large rocks, you carried them into the water until you were knee-deep. You were building a V- shaped wall, so when the tide came in, it brought with it fish and when the tide went out, they would be trapped.

Pouring the now cooled water into the bottles, you started thinking about your plan. First, you thought about short-term needs, in case you were rescued soon, and then long-term needs, in the event you weren’t rescued for months or perhaps years. You paused, forcing yourself to think and accept the fact that there was a chance you would never be rescued.

The Asian man had gotten up and looked around hopefully. Handing him a now clean and sterile bottle of water, you frowned looking around with him. "There is no one here." He didn't say a word, staring at you while drinking slowly.

You huffed, trying to figure out how you two could survive on an island. He watched you fuss around trying to make a shelter out of sticks but it collapsed everytime.

“Just no,” he muttered. You tried not to openly sneer at him. Grabbing the raft, you dragged it across the sand. As the raft was built for a large group, it seemed all you were doing was digging your feet into the sand. But little by little it was dragged up the beach thanks to the tide. It took some convincing but you had gotten help from the young man. The two of you madly struggling to lift the inflatable slide to a tilt against a tree. It was still inflated so you hoped you could use it for something else if needed.

Before the tide came in that evening, you ran out to the water. Your hopes were crushed when you found no fish and saw that the wall had broken. Carrying more large rocks into the water and making the V bigger and stronger, things weren't looking great, but you were trying to do your best. Cold from splashing around in the water, you went back to the shelter, but the fire had gone out by this point.

Looking at the young man, you let out an exasperated sigh. Did he not care for his life or yours? Contemplating while gathering more wood, you realized that you had been doing all the work, while he was just lazing around. “We need more wood, come help,” you gestured for the young man to follow, but he sneered at the thought and leaned away from you.

“I just lay uh here and wait to…” he thought over his words, slowly forming an English sentence “die or be rescue,” he mumbled. You were too exhausted to argue. It could wait until tomorrow, and you would both freeze tonight. Maybe then he would understand the importance of working together towards a goal.

You felt absolutely disgusting. hearing the loud patter of rain, you walked down the length of the shelter. On one side was the raft, and on the other was the luggage, built into a wall. You took out some clean clothes and stepped into the rain. Peeling off your seawater and sweat drenched clothes, you stood in the dark and tried washing your body with a tiny travel soap you had found in a bag.

You scrubbed your body of sweat and turned back to the shelter. Grabbing your towel, and wrapping it around your body, you stepped inside. He was laying on the makeshift bed you had prepared. He looked over, and when he saw you just in a towel, he rolled away. It was embarrassing, you who loved privacy and comfort were showering all exposed in the rain and getting changed in the same vicinity as a stranger. That night, he took the only dry blanket, so you laid there with wet hair and damp skin, shivering.

You were thankful for the sun rising, and it took a few minutes for you to thaw enough to move, but when you did, you deemed it time for him to do some work. The two of you gathered sticks and leaves. He barely helped, and when he got back, he laid back down and fell asleep in the shelter.

Building a fire, with the wood, took some time as it had rained the night before. The leaves helped fuel the flames. The fire didn't have to be amazing, you just needed it for warmth. You also hoped some rescue teams might even see the faint smoke.

At the sound of your stomach calling for sustenance you got up and went to check the rock wall you made and found a fish swimming in the shallow water. You grinned, carrying it back making sure to stoke the fire. You were doing your absolute best with the emergency kit knife.

You must have looked pitiful, as your companion took over, filleting the fish with ease, and he even cooked it. The two of you had fish for breakfast and you felt satiated. You took some of the supplies and got ready to set out for food and fresh water. He was dressed and trying to follow you, so you let him carry some of the empty bottles.

Except he wasn't cut out for endurance, he got winded quickly. It reminded you of the time you passed out during a school marathon. Yet you made the best of the situation that you could, walking slowly until you came across some sort of fruit that the birds were eating.

You took a couple of pieces of rotten fruit and then carefully dug up the small plant and began carrying it back. He followed you back. You placed the plant down. Using your hands you tried to shift the dirt until you had a decent hole where you could plant the little fruit tree. Watering it with some of the water you had collected from the lagoon, internally wishing the plant would flourish. It was hard pouring the fresh water on the plant but you had to if you wanted food.

You mapped out an area and put sticks in the ground in a box-shape, in hopes of starting a garden of any edible plants found throughout the island.

You took the old fruit you collected off the ground, put it around the bottom of the tree, and gave a small hopeful sigh. “Hopefully it will break down in the soil and feed the plant. Our fate is in your hands little plant”

You spent another night sleeping in the makeshift shelter and had to decide on what to do, so you sat up and turned to the young man.

"Hey, are you awake?" He sat up, his eyes narrow, "what do we build? Shelter? or a garden for food?"

He blinked before choosing "Shelter?” you giggled at his confusion, not trying to be rude. He knew more English than you knew Korean and that was definitely a feat.

“A home”

“Home, food later" he shrugged

It rained heavier, bringing with it a sense of sadness. There was no one waiting for you, no one looking for you. The tears began falling and you tried to stifle the sounds. He was still and you hoped he didn’t hear the breakdown. You hoped he was sound asleep as this seemed to be his skill. You were sadly mistaken; he wasn’t asleep. He moved and draped a blanket over you. He only drifted off when you exhausted yourself from crying.

Waking up with your back pressed to his back, the two of you had shared a few airplane blankets. Your body was aching, from sleeping on the ground. It was time to build the shelter both of you had been discussing. You needed someplace safe from the elements and a place with some sort of makeshift bed. Sand felt so soft, but was uncomfortable to sleep on.

Standing in the morning breeze, you began thinking: “How does one even build a house?” If people can make houses with only the land, then so could you. You had no excuse.if it didn’t work, you could try again until you figured it out. You knew there should be some sort of foundation. You could build between two trees, or with a big pillar in the middle, or four walls like a traditional home. Whatever you were going to do, you needed the materials, namely wood, but it’s not like you could just rip a tree out of the ground with your bare hands. You needed tools. Unfortunately, this island didn’t have a hardware store. This wasn’t like minecraft; you couldn’t just create perfect tools from nothing. Or, could you?

You got to work trying to make some sort of mock Stone Age axe. It gave you blisters, but you had successfully chopped a single tree down. Getting the hang of chopping the trees with your primitive tool, you had four trees ready on the seventh day. You dug holes in the sand, but it wasn’t holding the trunks at all. They kept toppling over. He told you it wouldn’t work, and you only huffed in response.

You would have to dig, until you found harder ground. This took another week, but you had four tree trunks in the ground in a modest square. You had started feeling dizzy while working, and your head felt clouded. It had been raining ever since you arrived, every night and lightly throughout the day, you didn’t think you had felt warm in a few days.

While making a wall frame out of trees, you started to feel dizzy again. You tied together the thin logs with multiple vines, and you hoped they would stay. The more you worked, the more your hands got torn up.

You were tying the last of the frame, when you felt your body grow heavy. You were so tired. You thought you would die by the hands of the lazy man. With that, all other thoughts left you as the darkness crept in.

The shelter was warm. There was a fire, and the blankets were wrapped around you, keeping you warm. Beside you was a bottle of water and a packet of painkillers. “Fever,” he sighed, “all work makes you uh… quick death?”

“Well, at least I am doing something. I have kept you alive, in the plane, in the water and now. I have done everything and what have you done other than act arrogant and lazy?” You said, “You haven’t even told me your name. We are stranded on an island. Maybe we will be rescued tomorrow, and it will be all in vain but what if it’s not tomorrow? What if it's months or a year from now?”

“What if never safe?” He argued, not looking at you.

“The point is, I don’t want to die in my twenties. I don’t want to die in general. I had dreams, to get married, have a family and be a loving wife. I was working a stupid office job, and I loved it. I won’t give up that dream. I will live with the hope that one day we will be rescued, and I will keep us alive goddamn it.”

“You don’t need to worry about me.” He gave a dry laugh, “I have no care. I was not… supposed be on the plane.”

“I need you alive. I can’t do this on my own. If-” You took a deep breath, “If you die, I might do something stupid. I can’t live an undetermined number of days on my own”

He went quiet.

“Think about someone else for a change, it’s not all about you, Mister Asshole.”

“Yoongi,” he mumbled

“What?” You asked, too tired to be mad.

“My name is Yoongi.” He left the shelter, and you were left sobbing in the dark.

You woke up to Yoongi cooking fish on the fire; you were not expecting it. He hadn’t really done anything to help you. He mostly sat around, but the two of you ate together before you got to work. It was after a few hours you noticed Yoongi was gone again. It disheartened you that he was off doing whatever again, while you were working. You were completely exasperated by the young man, he maddened you, always on your mind. He was hot and mysterious and you hate that you couldn’t stop thinking about him because he acted nice once.

You began opening the suitcases hoping you wouldn’t offend anyone by going through personal belongings of the deceased. Clothes in all different sizes mens and womens, all different styles and one suitcase broke you, filled with tiny onesies and cloth diapers, dummies and ointments and medicines for a tiny baby. A pretty purple rattle with a cute butterfly on the handle.

You slammed the suitcase shut and pushed it across the sand to look at another day but for now you needed to step aside, the wound was too fresh. These were real people who died and yet why did you two survive, the most unlikely pairing with the worst odds and yet you survived when countless innocent lives were lost. It wasn’t fair.

A few days had passed, and you were trying to create something sturdy enough to withstand wind and rain with a roof and walls. You had plenty of resources, but you had to pick the right ones that would last.

You thought about it and decided to use the raft to line the inside of the house in the tarp-like material. It was super long, so you could do the roof and the four walls and still have the whole underside left over. You would weave leaves and sticks together to make them sturdier and layer them on the outside.

Putting your plan to action seemed easy yet tedious. You collected long palm leaves, removed the spines, and weaved the leaves tightly together, and laid them on the floor. The more you weaved, the faster you got. Painstakingly working every day, you rejoiced when all four walls, roof, and floor were finished and stable.

While you were doing all this, Yoongi was nowhere to be seen. He returned at night, as he always did. He looked unbothered by all the work you had accomplished that day. You finished up, and the two of you ate and went to bed, which was just a collection of woven leaf mats covered in some of the leftover tarp from the raft.

You had moved the items from the shelter into the new house area. The two of you sat on the remaining raft fabric. “I made a bed out of leaf mats and covered it in the leftover material.”

Yoongi seemed impressed looking around, “잘 했어.”

“Jal haess-eo?” you repeated the sounds “What does that mean?”

“Uh… good work” He took your hands and pulled out a small succulent leave from his pocket snapping it and squeezing out the liquid inside. Applying it to the cuts and scratches on your hands gently. You noticed his hands were rough too, for he had cuts and blisters littering the his palms as well.

“Where did you find aloe vera?” you asked curiously. What had he been doing?

“Near the…” he made an action with his hand “폭포”

“The what?” You laughed, and he cracked a slight smile.

“Water shaaaa!” he made the sound and gesture of water falling. You laughed hysterically. He was so cute, when you got to know him.

“Waterfall?” you prompted, checking that was what he had meant.

“Ah waterfall!” he nodded, “Near the waterfall”

“What did you call it?” you said. You were genuinely interested. He had been trying his best to communicate with you in your language, so maybe you could learn some of his to ease the burden “Pog-o”

“폭포” he corrected.

“Pogpo” You smiled at him. he seemed a little happy that you were giving his language a try. “How do you say good night?”

“안녕히 주무세요” he said and you blinked shocked, so he grinned,speaking slower in syllables “Ann-yeong-hi ju-mu-se-yo.”

“Annyeonghi,” you repeated. He seemed eager to teach you more, so you stayed up as long as you could, learning Korean phrases until you both fell asleep.

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thecagedsong · 3 years

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Forgotten Light Chapter 16: Djinni

A/N: Posting this now so I don’t accidentally go back on my word and post the Tess chapter. Seth is up to Shenanagains of the life-threatening sort, just as he ought to be. Baby tries so hard.

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16

Chapter 15: Djinni

Unfortunately, they could not leave that afternoon to investigate the poisoned pool like was planned, as the Triclops didn’t give them an opportunity. It spent the whole afternoon and evening swinging an uprooted tree back and forth around the confines of their little sanctuary.

“All right,” Seth said, that night, “Need a new plan.”

“The plan is to get some sleep and try again in the morning. This island is big, he’ll go somewhere else eventually,” Warren said, rubbing his eyes, “You’re on Fablehaven’s timezone, right? No way you aren’t exhausted.”

“But the longer we wait to get a good look at the pool, the more likely we lose our clues,” Seth pleaded.

“Believe us Seth,” Vanessa said, “We know and we don’t like this. If it is still there in the morning, we’ll change the plan so that Warren and I act as decoys, luring the triclops away so your group can investigate. Preserves are too dangerous at night if it can be avoided.”

“Maybe too dangerous for you,” Seth scoffed.

“I understand your frustration,” Vanessa said, “I love Kendra too, and at least she knows that you are her brother. I will not face her having lost her brother, the only one she knows even a little bit, to preventable dangers. Sleep. I have potions for you if you need it.”

Seth looked behind her to Warren, who gave him a warning look that his arguing was at an end. He looked back at Vanessa’s dark eyes and firm set features.

“Fine,” Seth said. “I’ll take a sleeping potion, but not one that knocks me out completely.”

“More of a drowsy solution, I promise,” Vanessa said, going to her dufflebag. She mixed some powders and fruit juice, and held it out, “It will not work right away, so you can get back to your room, even if you drink it now.”

Seth tilted his head, “Hey, if you controlled me in my sleep, could you use my shadowcharmer abilities? Shadewalking, speaking to the undead, that kind of stuff?”

Vanessa didn’t answer until he drank the potion, then said, “I do not know. I have controlled wizards and felt their magical cores, but without their knowledge of spellcraft, I was unable to use their magic. Magic is not for the use of mortals. The best comparison would have been controlling Kendra, but her mind was protected, and I could not seize her. I would have to re-bite you and attempt, as Bracken broke off our previous connection. I could not attempt to guess, Seth, and I won’t experiment with you. If your abilities are needed, I trust you to use them well, as I hope you trust me to keep you safe during the attempt.”

“That’s actually really touching, I’m touched Vanessa,” Seth said, holding a hand over his heart, “I must be the most unique thing you aren’t interested in biting.”

Vanessa rolled her eyes, “I have bitten creatures of the dark, and they all taste nasty. Creature of the shadows, and teenage boy? That is a very easy pass.”

“You actually taste people when you bite them?” Seth asked, “Who tasted the best? Was it Kendra? I bet it was Kendra. I bit her once when we were kids.”

“And we’re done with that conversation,” Warren said, stopping Vanessa from answering. “Forever. Off to bed before the drowsy hits, scoot.”

“What? You don’t want to know if you tasted better or worse than—” Vanessa started teasing, and Seth was quick to back out of that conversation. Fourteen years old, and he did not need to know biting preferences for Vanessa, and how her boyfriend ranked.

Seth fell asleep, and woke up to the moon hitting his face, almost blinding. He felt refreshed and awake, not a hint of drowsy. It was rare he woke up like this, normally Kendra was awake first. Seth sat up. Or, he tried too, but sleeping in a hammock made sitting up a test of abdominal muscles. He rolled out of his hammock, took note that Tanu was sleeping across from him, Calvin wrapped up in a handkerchief for a blanket on the windowsill, and Seth quietly made his way out of the hut.

He wandered until he realized that the whispers of the undead were getting louder. Then he walked with a purpose up spiral stairs and across rope bridges he stopped before a door carved into what had to be the biggest tree in existence. It felt like the Blackwell, though a little less desperate. Instead of suffering pleas, there were questions about directions.

Left here, and again…or was it right?

A thousand repetitions of this circle should get me out…

Does wandering endlessly truly break up the monotony of eternal existence?

“I see…this is what it means to be a shadow charmer,” Savani’s voice broke his listening, and he saw the woman step onto the platform behind him.

“Yep, walking around in the middle of the night to figure out where the undead are,” Seth said. “And your excuse?”

Savani held up a bracelet of three large shells and several smaller shells, “We have three caretaker homes at this preserve, each designed to better weather certain seasons. This is the winter quarter, even though I should have welcomed you in the spring mansion. This bracelet alerts me whenever someone or something approaches one of the prisons at any of the homes, and will transport me to interfere. I assume you were not planning on releasing these entities.”

“No, just wanted to know where they are,” Seth said, looking back at the door, “They sound different than most of the undead. Like they’re…wandering. They think they are going somewhere.”

“The spirits here are trapped by a maze, just as much as they are by the barrier,” Savani said. “My people learned how to draw unwanted entities into certain designs, tricking them into wandering those corridors rather than through the village. It is a complicated magic, but one that does not require a wizard if you have the right blood and soul.”

“So like, at least they get puzzle books with their prison sentence, I approve,” Seth said, “They sound a little less miserable than the undead usually do.”

“Are you familiar with Djinni?” Savani asked.

“Genies?” Seth said, the name sounding familiar, “A little. My other Grandma tried to make a deal with one, it got to ask her three questions she had to answer truthfully. When she refused to answer one, the Genie turned her into a chicken.”

“I lost one of my staff to similar circumstances concerning the Djinni that rests just inside this door. A spirit that wandered here from the mainland; they were not so easily trapped by our mazes, but fell remarkably easily to four walls,” she said, thinking, “My sister, Alma, engaged in the question game, three for three, taking turns, and learned that the sunset pearl had been taken off the preserve before Djinni asked how to unweave spirit mazes and she refused to answer.”

“They only know about stuff inside the preserve right?” Seth asked.

“Only when asked can she gain access to her sight, which extends to past and a little into the future,” Savani said. “My sister’s remaining questions that she could not ask were about who took the sunset pearl, and the location of the Weki flute that soothes the triclops.”

“I can go in and ask her,” Seth volunteered.

Savani laughed, “I could never ask you to go in with so little preparation!”

“Seems to me everyone fails at the game because they had too much preparation,” Seth said. “You need to let your non-local idiot walk in with absolutely no preparation. I don’t know anything about this preserve or what might free her. Sure I know some secrets, but nothing that would help her get free. And it’s just information. She can’t ask me to do things for her, right?”

“The young always risk their lives for so little,” Savani said, shaking her with a quiet laugh. “Even if I were willing to lose another ally to that monster after losing my sister, something I’m sure you understand, none of your protectors would let you go over them.”

“That’s why we do it here and now,” Seth said, “I’ve negotiated with tougher customers than this. I’ve talked down both the Totem Wall and the Singing Sisters. And I convinced a centaur to let me ride on his back. I’m pretty talented at walking away from these things.”

“That is impressive,” Savani said, “But even with those dangerous consultations in your past, our situation is not so risky. And wandering towards the most secure prison at night alone does not convince me that you have the discipline to converse with this creature. Any word out of your mouth that is not the answer the answer to her question after you enter her chamber is a lie and gives her freedom to leave. You strike me as the sarcastic sort, and that will get you killed.”

“Yeah, some of my wraith friends didn’t get my jokes either,” Seth said, remembering Whiner. “I suppose knock-knock jokes are out?”

“Most definitely,” Savani said, “You are refreshing to speak to. Much like Warren, but less burdened. Does the chill of this dungeon not bother you?”

“Chill?” Seth asked, looking around, “It’s been ridiculously hot since we got here. It finally feels nice.”

“The unnatural dread make many fail to converse with the Djinni,” Savani said thoughtfully. “After speaking, I am a bit more inclined to let you try with the Djinni, and hold back my assent almost solely on the rifts I do not wish to cause with the rest of our allies. Should the triclops still haunt us when they awake, I will allow you to present this plan as an option to them.”

“Sounds like permission to me,” Seth said. He spun and grasped the door handle. In that touch, he found himself on the opposite side of door. Apparently just touching the doorknob was enough to get a mortal inside the prison, though he was willing to bet it would take the caretaker to get out. There was a single door to his right, and beyond that a spiral staircase covered with woven mats of crazy designs. He felt the presence of wraiths and the undead just before him, and it took a bit to figure out that they were trapped inside the mats.

Then a phantom stumbled up the stairs, and he realized not all of them were trapped in mats. Just to his left was a door with another handle and no hinges.

Expecting it this time, Seth reached out and grasped the handle.

“Oh? Two visitors so close together after a century of silence,” the Djinni said. “A baby shadow charmer, no less. I assume you are here to play my riddle game like that last one.”

The Djinni was surprisingly pretty. Usually Kendra got the pretty ones, and he got the cool ones who were half skeleton half putrid guts. The flowing pink dress threw him for a second. But she had white skin, red eyes, and choppy blue hair. Her skin was smooth, except for the bags under her eyes, and her hair looked like it could use a good washing.

Seth nodded to the Djinni’s question.

Then he breathed in, and a hand came up over his mouth to stop him from gagging. His eyes left the Djinni to the ground next to her, covered partially by her cloak. For some reason, when Savani said her sister had been killed by the Djinni, he had never imagined what had happened to her sister’s body. This wasn’t like the zombie farm, or even when Coulter died in his arms. The body was weeks decayed. Skin and organs were liquifying and leeking over the floor, bones starting to jut out on the ribcage and he could only be glad he couldn’t see Savanni’s sister’s face.

“I have a fondness for little adventurers,” the Djinni said with a rosy smile, watching him watch the body. She even threw in a casual caress of her last victim. “I will recite the rules for you if you nod now.”

Seth nodded, suddenly regretting everything. He made himself focus on the Djinni.

“Very well, my rules are simple,” she said, standing up but still leaning against the wall of her prison cell, “You may only speak the answers to my questions and questions of your own. You have as much time as you need to answer. Should you speak else, I may extract a price from you for disturbing me, and as you can see, it includes killing you. Should you speak a lie, I am freed from my prison and will enjoy wrecking the meager protections left to this house on my way out. My sight it limited to this preserve, but it extends to everywhere in this preserve and all the way through the past, and twenty-eight days into the future. You may indicate you are unsatisfied with my answer, but may not ask follow-up questions, I can do the same. Upon being satisfied with my final answer, you will be teleported out of my diminutive abode. Nod if you are ready to begin, little adventurer.”

Simple rules. Follow the rules, and they can’t touch you. He would just have to think through his answers before speaking. Despite what Kendra says, he can think before talking. At least, that’s what Kendra used to say, and probably wouldn’t take long to say again. Seth nodded and made himself remove his hands and accept the smell. The smell wasn’t worse than the zombie farm, even if the body was.

“Then I, Skamboli, ask this for my first question: what are the ways out of my confinement that you know about?” she asked.

Seth thought for a minute, going over each way he thought might work.

“I only know a few,” Seth said slowly, “if I tell a lie, you are free. I assume that if the caretaker released you, you could go free. I don’t know for sure, but I assume if someone busted down your door from the outside, you would probably be freed. Burned the tree prison down, though you might die that way. And…a trained shadow charmer, not me, could probably unlock your door. People have told me that once I learn control over my powers, I can undo locks, but I don’t know how yet.”

Skamboli waited, but nothing happened. “Very honest, I approve. Though a wiser adventurer would not volunteer information about their weaknesses. You may ask your first question.”

Better ask Savani’s questions first. “Who took the sunset pearl?”

Her red eyes flashed white for a second then went back to red. “The dark unicorn goes by many names, but you know him as Ronodin. He stole the pearl on his first visit to this sanctuary.”

That was bad and good. Bad, because Ronodin likely put it where he was keeping Kendra, on the Phantom Island, but good because it narrowed their goals and they were already working on getting to the Phantom Isle anyway. Maybe he could use the horn to send a message to Bracken to pick up the pearl on his way out with Kendra?

Seth nodded at the Djinni, hopefully indicating he was satisfied with her answer. Not looking at the body. She never said he could verbally say if he was satisfied, just dis-satisfied, and didn’t want to risk it. He didn’t want to talk more than he had to.

“Is there any questions I could ask that you would be unwilling to answer?” Skamboli said. This was the question that left grandma laying eggs for months.

Again, Seth thought carefully.

“Plenty of things I wouldn’t want to answer,” Seth decided, “Embarrassing moments, secrets about our plans against the dragons in the upcoming dragon war that I promised not to share, too much information about my friends and family. Secrets that would result in my death if I shared them with you due to other promises I have made. Really don’t want to share that one, it wouldn’t benefit you at all and would end up with me dead. That one is about my dealings with the Singing Sisters, and wouldn’t interest you at all, so please don’t ask that one. But I would share any of it, if you asked, because I need to take the answers to my questions back to my friends.”

Skamboli waited, then nodded at Seth. Seth hesitated for a moment, because the name of the flute Savani mentioned five minutes ago was already lost from his head. He needed a minute to carefully pick his words.

“Where is the magic flute that can soothe the currently rampaging triclops?” Seth asked at last.

Again, her eyes flashed a blinding white.

“The Weki flute is buried amongst the treasure of the Fairy Queen’s shrine on this island,” Skamboli said.

Uggh, normally they left the fairy shrine stuff to Kendra, though the Fairy King might let him take something from there. Or maybe getting Fairy Struck Tess to ask would be better. Still, much better news than the flute being lost forever. Seth nodded.

“What would convince you to free me from my prison, little adventurer?” she asked, sounding tired.

Seth had not expected that question. What would convince him to free a dangerous being? He took longer to think through his answer to this one than any other. The smell and taste of the last life she had taken all around him, so much worse than the zombie farm.

“A sincere and binding promise to never hurt another sentient being again,” Seth said, at last, and his eyes finally went back to the body. He saw the swollen, distorted face of Savani’s sister, and knew he wouldn’t ever forget it. “But from everything I know, that is against your very nature and an impossible promise to keep.” He looked away and back at her, “Still, if you were able to convince me you’d do that? I’d do my best to help you. I would do my best to convince Savani that you won’t attack her, help find a nice new lair for you somewhere on this preserve. You could have been a lot meaner, a lot stricter and done more to trip me up, but you didn’t, which makes me like you. I have been double crossed a lot in my life though, so I refuse to free you on anything less than a perfect, binding promise.”

Skamboli waited, then nodded, a small smile on her lips. Now it was time for the real reason he had jumped into this encounter, the information that would make it all worth it. He thought over his question a couple of times, looking for loopholes or ways to get more information out of it, and asked.

“Where will my sister Kendra be on the preserve in the next twenty-eight days?”

Again, her eyes flashed white, though this time they softened slowly back to their red. “The future is not certain, but many futures show Kendra at this preserve in 77 hours and making her way to the sacred pool. She will venture into the domain of a wraith, then leave. It grows hazier, but Kendra will also visit the Bridge Cove, then Baga Lao sometime after that. Leaving Baga Lao, she does not return within the time of my sight.”

Kendra. Here. Seth almost said something, almost said thank you, then stopped himself with a snap of his jaw. He nodded.

“That concludes my little game. Congrats, you are the first to pass without retribution in a while. You are right, I cannot promise not to harm in exchange for my freedom. Still, this has been quite entertaining, and in Jighandi even. You have goodness in you, little adventurer, try not to die too quickly on this preserve.”

Seth was transported out. Savani was standing in the little hallway, arms folded, when he appeared. She grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him towards the exit

Savani forcibly shoved him out of the prison, where Grandma was waiting for him.

“So, good news, I wisely used my resources and found out vital information on where Kendra is going to be, as well as the sunset pearl and the flute to stop the triclops” Seth said. “Bad news, I’m going to throw up.”

Seth rushed to the edge of the platform and started heaving, losing the dinner he had eaten.

“I understand now what Ruth and Stan warned me when letting you out of my sight,” Grandma Larsen said, putting a hand on his back. “Of all the trouble I was watching out for, you purposefully going to chat up a djinni never even crossed my mind.”

Tears leaked out of his eyes as he threw up some more. It was horrible, he’d thought that after everything, after regularly conversing with the undead for years, after seeing so many people die, he would never loose his stomach over something like a dead body. But the smell…

…he gagged some more, even though there was nothing left. He was sticky and gross and the humidity made it feel like the vomit was sticking to him more than he knew it was. Eventually a glass of water was offered, and he used it to rinse his mouth. He nodded his thanks at Savani, and accepted the wet towel as well.

His breathing evened out and he said, “For Kendra. I did it for Kendra.”

“Seth, you are part of a team now,” Grandma said, “And you aren’t leading things here like you were back at Wyrmroost. We work together, or not at all. Savani told you she didn’t want you to speak to the Djinni, and you disregarded her. This is her home, hers to protect, and you violated that trust. How is what you did any different than Knox going into the dungeons with Tess to check out the barrel?”

“Savani said the only reason she didn’t want me to talk to the Djinni was that she worried about setting off everyone’s ‘protect Seth’ sensors,” Seth said, not looking her in the eye, “I thought I figured it out, but you’re right, I didn’t know, I wasn’t ready. It’s what I thought I had to do, and I’m sorry.” Savani’s sister’s body flashed in his mind again, the way Skamboli stroked sagging flesh, and he pressed his face into the towel.

He was stronger and braver than this. He was. He had proved it over and over, and he’d seen people die. He’d seen his sister poison herself into a frothing, empty shell. He’d seen battle wounds from the battle of Zzyzx.

This shouldn’t be worse than that, but it was.

Grandma sighed and rubbed his back. “What happened? Tell me.”

“It’s nothing,” Seth said, pulling himself to his feet. “Nothing I haven’t seen before. It just…I wasn’t prepared. I promise I won’t act on my own again.”

“That is not the answer to my question,” Grandma scolded, standing as well, “I don’t care about how Ruth and Stan let you run about and keep secrets, and I don’t care about what you’ve seen before. We are going to confront a demon for training tomorrow, and you have been unsettled and you have been reckless, so we are going to talk until I trust that you can handle what’s going to happen.”

“It doesn’t matter if I talk about it or not,” Seth said, “We need to get me trained so I can get to the Phantom Isle, and we need to do it fast. I can handle a demon, I won’t lose it like that again.”

“Seth, Honey,” Grandma said, and she pulled him into a hug he resisted, “Even those of us who have done dangerous missions on magical preserves our entire lives need people to talk to. People to trust. Time to break down. Mortals aren’t meant for the kind of exposure you and your sister have been through. Special abilities or not. Talk to me.”

“It’s nothing, I mean it,” Seth said, and his eyes found Savani over Grandma’s shoulders, who had been watching patiently the entire time. “It wasn’t worse than seeing Kendra’s stingbulb kill herself, and I got through that, so I’m okay.”

“Shadow charmers have a reputation,” Savani said quietly, “Of moving and operating in the dark, with demons who seal their secrets sworn in blood. I would recommend letting things come to light, if you can. If you are trying to spare me, I think I have guessed what unsettled you. I had hoped this Djinni to favor the clean and quick kill, but we knew the consequences.”

“I’m sorry,” Seth said, hoping she understood the extent of his apology.

“Ahh,” Grandma said releasing him, “Death. You have dealt far too much with loved ones and friends dying for your age, and you have dealt much with those long dead, the process in between is…unpleasant, unsettling.”

“It smelled really bad,” Seth admitted, closing his eyes and seeing the body all over again. “Worse than the zombie farm. I don’t know how I breathed, much less talked. It was just…everywhere in that small cell. I won’t try something like that again, not without a lot more preparation and talking it out with everyone.”

Savani said nothing for a long moment, “You make raising my own son look easy, Seth Sorenson. I believe your sincere desires, though it will take a while for me to trust your restraint. Gloria, remain by Seth’s side for the remainder of his stay here. He does not understand our magic, and while that saved him from knowing anything that could help the Djinni, it also made him dangerous to the integrity of the Woven Prison.”

“That is acceptable,” Grandma said.

Savani sighed, and shook her head, “That being said, the information you gathered is invaluable and I am also in your debt for asking. I was listening at the door and recorded everything. We will work on securing the flute, preparing for Ronodin’s return, and locating the Sunset Pearl. We will have much to discuss when the rest of our companions awake.”

Grandma nodded, “I agree, come Seth. There is still three hours until dawn, and we need what rest we can, even if sleep is gone. You will be sleeping in my room from now on.”

Seth winced, but it was hardly the worst punishment he could have gotten. Probably better than he should have gotten. The women turned to leave.

Seth went to the room his Grandmother had been using, to laid down in the second bed, while Grandma Larsen curled up in hers. No more hammock after tonight. He thought he had been past his impulse issues. He had been careful at Wyrmroost to not take unnecessary risks, to consult Kendra in most things, and he had felt good. Like he had learned his lesson and finally grown into someone worth trusting with important stuff.

Now it felt like he was back to square one. Back to being the dumb kid that captured fairies overnight and trusted demons.

Seth missed his sister.

#Forgotten Light #Fablehaven #Dragonwatch #Seth Sorenson #Finally I don't start a chapter with a handwritten note #baby seth #tw: gore #I guess #graphic description of a decaying body

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square-blunt · 3 years

Text

You're in my heart, in my heart, in my head.

The normal empires fic in which shit goes from 0 to -100 to 100 and back to -100 in like, 2000 words. Scott ruins shit bc he's a dumbass in love. Jimmy watches him die. Y'know, the normal fic you'd see on the empires tag. This is a Minecraft Roleplay.

TW- MCD (major character death), Gore, (blood. and like, big knife mention). Angst. there is so much angst- emotional mental physical, it's all that shit. Sacrifice, screaming, crying, and they kiss so that's fun but y'know.

WC: 2009

Ao3: :) Second Chapter: :)

Scott knows something is wrong. He feels that pit in his stomach- familiar emptiness that clouds his vision and his mind. His feet start to move forward. He knows- he knows something's happening.

He knows Jimmy is in trouble.

He hasn't been in Mythland much- but somehow he cuts through trees and knocks over stands almost like he knows exactly where he's going and nothing was gonna stop him from getting there. It's getting dark- that's weird it was just noon-

Scott looks up to see where the sun is. 'This can't get any worse,' he thinks. You're never supposed to fight a demon when there's a solar eclipse, everyone knows that-

Scott hears a scream. It sends his heart up into his throat- that's Jimmy. Scott sprints forward and bursts through the treeline and he's at Sausage's summoning circle- no- no no no-

The sight is terrible. Sausage- his body is practically decaying under the weight of corruption- of possession. Xornoth's possessed the man he once saw as a friend. And Joey's by his side, a book in hand, chanting in elvish. They've crafted an obsidian altar- and writhing in chains, desperately trying to free himself is Jimmy. Tears are streaking down his face, his terror radiating off of him in waves.

Xornoth raises something above their head as the moon fully covers the sun- its last light gleaming off the object- it's a ritual knife.

They're going to sacrifice you- I don't want to lose you. He can hear Jimmy’s voice as clear as day.

Scott screams out a time-shattering “Stop” before he can get a hold of himself.

Everything does stop. Time, space, reality- it feels like Scott’s heart has stopped, too. Sausage looks at him with eyes that aren’t his own; Joey looks at him as well, but his eyes hold no rage or fear, only smugness. His eyes are drawn away as he catches Jimmy’s face. It goes from happiness to confusion, to heartbreak, back to confusion, and then to pure fear.

“Stop,” Scott says it a little quieter this time. His voice rings out against the stilled breeze. There are no birds, no nature, everything around them is either dead or too terrified to make a sound. Xornoth tilts his head, slowly and concerningly calmly. “Step away from him.” Scott’s hand finds itself on the hilt of his sword. Not like there’s much that could do, but he has to do something.

Xornoth laughs. It sounds like Sausage.

“Scott-” Jimmy says, and immediately cries out in pain. Scott looks up- Joey was the one to twist his arm. Under any other circumstances, Scott would have lunged forward and sunk his sword into Joey’s skull, but since Xornoth is still holding a very painful-looking ritual knife, Scott stays put.

“Jimmy, don’t say anything-” Scott begins, his voice tight with panic. Xornoth speaks up before he can continue, Scott’s heart dropping in his chest. His voice sounds like Sausage, too.

“Brother, have you come to replace your lover from another life?” Xornoth’s voice is suffocatingly rich with sarcasm and fake pity.

Scott can’t answer. He opens his mouth but no sound comes out. He doesn’t- he can’t look at Jimmy.

“I know you remember, great champion of Aeor, I know you do.” Xornoth grins, their face contorting.

“I do, and I have,” Scott says, finally getting over the lump in his throat. The lump comes back tenfold as Xornoth’s grin grows impossibly wider.

“Scott- no- what-” Jimmy begins to say, but Joey quiets him with another yank on his restraints. Xornoth puts a hand out, and Joey drops the ropes.

“You know what I need, brother,” Xornoth says, their voice eerily emotionless.

“Scott- don’t do this-”

“Jimmy, please,” Scott says, closing his eyes to keep the tears at bay, he can’t give Xornoth his own humanity.

“Scott-” Scott winces as Jimmy’s voice breaks. Jimmy doesn’t know, he can’t remember-

Scott takes a deep breath, and once again, speaks before he can tell himself to stop.

“I, Ellinair, take the place of this man so that he might live free of pain or suffering for the rest of his life.” Scott needs to make sure that Jimmy gets off free, with no strings attached. So Xornoth can’t hurt him after he’s gone.

“No- Scott, what have you done- why-” Jimmy sits up, some of the ropes have disappeared but he still can’t leave the altar.

Xornoth laughs- it doesn’t sound like Sausage anymore.

“A great elf with a great future who was stolen in the night and thrown into an arena for the devil’s delight. And you fell in love. How cute!” they snarl, “Unfortunately, as you died, you were whisked away from our grasp. I had to find you again, and wasn’t I lucky that I found your husband instead? And, better yet, without your protection! It was so easy, brother, to just come in and take him. To use him. Sweet, dopey, stupid Jimmy. Why would he be the one tied to that dragon? I kill him, and nothing will happen other than a shortage of slimeballs and a few tears. The only use for him was that he was close to you. He’s nothing but a pawn to get to you. And you, in your blind devotion, played right into my hand. I was never going to kill him, it would honestly be too much effort to do so. I was never going to kill him. I was only threatening to kill him so you would change places with him, so Exor could finally triumph over his brother. You are weak, Ellinair, in your love, in your loyalty- or lack thereof. You always were weak. And now I’ve won. Exor has won because you fell for a mortal. Because of a flower. It’s sickeningly amusing, I must say. But unfortunately, it seems that your time is drawing to a close. Lesser, you may release the ‘bait’.” Xornoth ends their monologue with a direction Scott takes a moment to realize is for Joey, who follows it immediately. Jimmy, now free, lurches off the altar like it was burning him alive. He rushes over to Scott, questions bubbling up and out of him. His hands move to hold Scott’s, but Scott isn’t exactly... present. But he can still hear Jimmy. How he wishes he couldn’t.

“Scott- Scott what’s going on- I thought you- what’s going on? Why did you- Scott- why did you take- what-” Jimmy asks, clutching at Scott’s hands. Scott hangs his head, Jimmy immediately stops and lets him talk.

“Jimmy... you don’t know what you mean to me,” Scott says, tears threatening to fall, he can’t make eye contact with Jimmy.

“I think I can guess, at least,” Jimmy says, voice tight, cupping Scott’s face. Scott still can’t look at him.

“They’re right-” Scott begins to say- before Jimmy tilts Scott’s head to face him and kisses him. It takes Scott a second for his heart and his head to catch up to it- but Jimmy’s kissing him. Finally, after what feels like eons apart, he’s kissing him again. Scott kisses him back like he’s the air he’s gone without breathing for so long- Scott’s been without him for so long- and just when he’s got him back... he quite literally sold his soul for this. Time stops again- this has happened way too many times for it to be normal but Scott wishes it would stop forever. Seconds turn into minutes and it’s like the gods have finally taken pity on him and given him time to give everything he can. He’s sold his soul for Jimmy, and he’s never gonna get to see him again. The tears become too much, and they fall- but Scott would rather die now than break the kiss, so Scott’s tears stain both their cheeks. The kiss tastes the same it always did, like Jimmy, and it was heart-achingly familiar.

Scott can’t live without it.

Funny.

He won’t live much longer anyway.

He is hyper-aware of Jimmy’s grip on him, on his face, in his hair, holding him close like they would melt together if they could.

Maybe Jimmy needs him as much as Scott.

And fuck, he needed Jimmy.

He needs to feel as much of Jimmy as he can before all he feels is a knife through his chest.

But right now all he cares about are the hands on his chest where the knife will go- the hands that are gonna be gone soon- Scott hasn’t been counting the seconds how long has it been- how long has Jimmy been kissing him- how long has he been kissing back- how long do they have left? Scott wraps his arms around Jimmy, trying to become inseparable- and Jimmy just holds onto him tighter. One of them sobs into the other- and all Scott can think is I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you- and he hopes Jimmy can hear him.

They both can hear a sickening crunch, instead.

As time crashes back into Scott's reality like a freight train, a number of things happen in rapid succession.

Jimmy is torn away, crying out in pain. It's familiar. Scott's tears break their dam and his vision is blurred- but he can still see Jimmy, sweet, dopey, beautiful Jimmy.

As Jimmy gets jerked backward, his and Scott's grip tightens on each other, and Jimmy's screams of agony make Scott want to throw up.

It takes everything Scott has to stay in place and keep Jimmy with him.

"'Scott something's on my back- something's hooked into me-"

"Jimmy- don't let go- please, please don't let go- I love you, please-"

"I won't- Scott- don't- I love you, too, I love you, too-"

Something cold sinks into Scott's shoulder, sending searing hot pain across his body- and making his arm go limp.

Scott and Jimmy are ripped apart from each other.

Scott screams for Jimmy and thrashes around, trying desperately to free himself, sobs ringing in his skull and fear and pain and regret raking through his body- but he refuses to stop looking at Jimmy, and Jimmy still looks at him. He catches a glimpse of what’s hooked onto Jimmy's back- it’s a massive tendril of corruption, and now it's holding Jimmy suspended in the middle of the air- it looks like it hurts him to breathe, much less call out Scott's name, but it's all in vain.

Scott knows he's going to die.

He gave his word.

But that doesn't mean he's not going to try and get away.

He needs to get away.

He needs to scream and cry and writhe and brace himself against the altar that whatever's hooked into his shoulder is trying to drag him onto.

He needs Jimmy to know how sorry he was because he’s gone and fucked it all up now. He thought he’d be able to play it off to Jimmy as ‘you don't deserve to die in my place' but when Jimmy looked at him with pure heartbreak and fear in his eyes he knew that he was doing it to save him.

Not the world.

Jimmy was his world.

Scott loses the fight and is dragged up onto the altar, where tendrils of dark crimson threaten to bury him alive, and one-handed he tries to swat them off. He can feel his power draining, he knows Joey's probably chanting again, but all he hears is Jimmy. He looks back, and Jimmy is still struggling and sobbing and Scott has to keep fighting to stay alive as long as possible just to be able to see Jimmy for as long as possible.

But the tendrils are growing in number, and Scott can’t keep all of them at bay and slowly he’s overtaken and restrained. The metal hook still sits painfully in his shoulder as his energy drains with his blood, he’s lost the power to scream.

Jimmy hasn’t.

Scott hangs onto that.

Scott hangs onto Jimmy’s screams, his sobs, his ‘Please stop’s, his ‘why him’s, Scott hangs onto the feeling of rage- at his brother and their tool hurting Jimmy like this- but the rage stays heavy on his chest. Rage and fear and pain swirl in his mind and every other emotion drains out of him.

All he knows is terror.

All he knows is Jimmy’s sobs.

He knows that he has seconds left- Xornoth’s probably already gotten the knife back up above his head.

All Scott can offer to Jimmy, all that he has left, is a weak smile of comfort before every sense he has cuts out.

Scott can’t see Jimmy.

He can’t hear Jimmy.

He’s failed everyone he’s ever known.

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kuroopaisen · 4 years

Text

squabbler. (tsukishima kei)

➵ being a student in your country’s most prestigious mage university isn’t easy. even less so, when you have to turn to your sworn enemy, tsukishima kei, for help.

wc: 6.4k

warnings: gn!reader, mage!au

a/n: dariamorgendoerfer100 thank you for your support! you’re very sweet, and i enjoy your little comments T-T and a big thank you to both erin and ren for beta’ing this :( i love you both so much

Maybe you were a little early. And this was just a theory class; nothing too exciting, just an overview of the history of magic. But you couldn’t help it. You were just so damn excited.

You were the first person from your village to have earned a spot in the nation’s most prestigious mage academy, after all. Well, the first in a few decades. But that sort of detail wasn’t too important. What mattered was that you were here, in the halls of the great academy.

Said halls were currently empty. But you didn’t mind it too much. It gave you some time to admire it all. Admire how old the stone looked, without giving the impression it was falling apart. Admire how the entire place seemed to thrum with magic, echoing through every nook and cranny. Admire how even the way the sun filtered through the windows seemed to have a mythical quality to it.

However, rocks and stones were only interesting for so long. And nobody else had turned up.

How early were you? You pouted, playing with the hem of your robes.

Were you in the wrong place? Had you misread your letters? Were you on the wrong side of campus? Would you be penalised for being late? Was your academic career in shambles before it had even begun?

At that moment, you heard footsteps. You twirled around, almost tripping over your own feet.

It was a tall blond boy, clad in glasses and an expression of sincere disinterest. He looked roughly your age, and his umber robes were just a little too short in the sleeves.

Why was he so tall? Were humans allowed to be that tall? Had he used some kind of elicit magic to spur his growth?

You’d never met anyone that tall before. Not back home. And you were a really, really long way from home. And now was not the first moment that you’d wondered if you’d made the right decision, moving so far away.

No! You wouldn’t be intimidated by this. You’d come all this way, after all, and you were ready for anything. You would talk to this boy, and you would make your very first friend at this academy. Now that was a thrilling thought.

“Hello!” You piqued up, maintaining a respectable enough distance between the two of you. You’d have liked to say it was because you wanted to be polite, but it was mainly to ensure that you wouldn’t have to crane your neck so much as you looked up at him.

The boy said nothing. He didn’t even look at you. Had he not heard you?

“Are you excited to start?” You asked, speaking a little louder this time. That was a neutral enough question. Surely, that would beget some kind of response.

Still nothing. But, you did notice his eyebrows sink a little.

“I’m a bit nervous, myself,” you smiled nervously, tilting your head at him. Maybe he was just shy?

You swallowed, trying to ignore how clammy your hands were becoming. “Are you… from around here?”

The boy glanced at you for a second, and you felt the tightness in your chest ease a little.

But instead of answering you, he reached into his bag and pulled out one of the textbooks. He opened it without a word, leaning against the wall and positioning himself in such a way that allowed him to put you out of sight.

Oh, now you were mad. What, he couldn’t even engage in polite small talk? What was he, a child? What an ungrateful little–

You glowered at him, crossing your arms as you slumped against the wall. You weren’t about to start a fight. That wasn’t worth it – especially not on your first day. But you couldn’t help but feel a little angry.

You hadn’t managed to make your first friend at the academy. Oh, no.

You’d just made your first enemy.

✧✧✧

It only took about half a year for things to start going wrong.

For the most part, you were pretty decent at this whole magic thing. It wasn’t so much a natural aptitude – although your natural abilities certainly weren’t bad – but more a testament to your hard work.

Unfortunately, that asshole you’d met on your first day – who you’d now come to know as Tsukishima Kei – was also good. But he didn’t seem to care. Admittedly, you’d taken a peek at his test scores before – yes, you know it’s unethical, but you couldn’t help it. You’d just wanted to know if he had any legs to stand on, being as insufferably smug as he was. You hadn’t liked the answer.

Worse yet, your professors liked to call on him in class. And he answered perfectly, each and every time. And yet, he always sounded so bored? How could someone be bored learning about magic? Gods, that pissed you off.

And somehow, by some cruel trick of fate, he was in every single one of your classes. The cohort was big enough to be split in two, but no matter the arrangement of the rest of your peers, the two of you were always together.

He knew you didn’t like him. You’d never really spoken about it, but there’d been a fair few times when you’d mutually glared at each other during class. You weren’t quite sure if he just looked at everyone like that, or if he was targeting you specifically. Either way, you didn’t like it.

That wasn’t even taking into account the numerous tense in-class discussions you’d had. Every time you presented an idea, this beanpole of a man decided he needed to challenge it. You’d been humiliated for the first few months, but you’d made a valiant effort to grow some thicker skin. It had worked, for the most part; some days you could even fire back at your apathetic nemesis.

You could handle him fine enough. But your dorm-mates had decided to get themselves into a massive argument. You still weren’t sure over what, exactly, but it’s origin evidently didn’t matter. You were stuck in the middle, trying desperately to smooth over the situation.

But, it was quite difficult easing tensions when each angry party had the ability to set someone’s hair on fire – even if it was against academy rules. Playing mediator was taking up more of your time than it had any right to, and it was proving to be exhausting.

Worse yet, the workload had grown even more intense, and it was starting to overwhelm you. You’d known that the academy was tough, but you hadn’t properly comprehended it before coming here. Now, you were experiencing it.

And on top of all that, you’d been hit by a recent bout of homesickness. You could handle them well enough, frequently, that they were – but all those extenuating circumstances meant that your typical coping strategies were less effective.

You’d managed to stay on top of your studies, for the most part. Except, unfortunately, for one subject in particular.

No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t wrap your head around alchemy. You always seemed to mess it up – and no amount of private tuition from the professor could help. You could tell she was a very clever woman, but it was obvious that because she just knew so much about it, she had a hard time noticing where the gaps in your knowledge might be. And frankly, the amount of time you spent speaking to her after class was getting embarrassing.

You’d decided that you wouldn’t speak to her this afternoon. It wouldn’t be productive, for one, and you were worried that you were wearing her patience thin. Perhaps it was time to find a proper tutor…

None of your friends were particularly good at alchemy, and you didn’t know any of your upperclassmen. Did the academy have an official tutoring program? You’d never actually looked into that sort of thing. But trying to search out that sort of thing would take precious time that you should spend studying…

That’s when he walked past you.

Tsukishima Kei. Top of the class.

A horrible idea blossomed in your mind. One that made your stomach churn.

Can I swallow my pride? You thought.

Yes. I’m desperate.

As soon as you finished that thought, you turned and tore down the corridor as fast as your legs could carry you. He was already what felt like half a country away. Damn him and his long legs.

“Hey!” You hollered, cursing your own lack of stamina. “Hey, Tsukishima!”

He paused, looking over his shoulder with an expression of baffled irritation.

You skittered to a stop behind him. “Please tutor me,” you said, each word punctuated by a deep breath.

“Huh?” He grimaced, looking down at you. “No.”

“No please!” You gasped. “Please!”

Tsukishima narrowed his eyes at you, turning around.

Oh, you weren’t letting him get away that easily.

You dashed around him, standing right in his way.

You were running on pure instinct and desperation now, bowing sharply with your fists clenched at your side.

People were definitely starting to stare. But you were pretty damn desperate. The examination was barrelling towards you, and you certainly hadn’t studied enough for it.

“I’ll help you if you stop making a scene,” he hissed, face flushed with embarrassment.

You shot up to full height, looking at him with an expression that appeared to be misplaced adoration. “Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Did you listen to me at all—”

“Tomorrow night, seven o’clock,” you breathed, “The library. Bye!”

You fled, not giving him the time to refute you. And you were glad you ran; you could feel your cheeks burning, almost as much as your chest was. You hated running, but you needed to make sure he wouldn’t change his mind.

That was unequivocally one of the most embarrassing things you’d ever done.

But you were pretty damn desperate.

✧✧✧

Honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if he decided not to come. Your trust in him was tenuous at best; you could only hope that you’d appealed to at least some iota of human decency locked behind that mask of apathy.

Suffice to say that morale was low.

It had been a long day. One of your friends had roped you into renovating the greenhouse with them, and that had been much more work than you’d anticipated. Apparently all the plants along one of the walls had to be relocated, and all in one day. You’d wanted to say no when you’d found that out, but your friend had been so stressed. You hadn’t had the heart to walk away from them.

So, you’d been diligently running around all afternoon, slowly feeling the work ebb away at your energy reserve. All the while, you’d been worrying about your study session. Wondering if Tsukishima would turn up. Wondering if he was actually capable of salvaging your alchemy grades.

You glanced at a candle in one of the alcoves, each inch burned representing an hour passed.

Tsukishima was late.

You sighed, resting your head on the desk. It was foolish of you to put your hopes in him. He had no reason to extend a hand. If anything, your academic blunders were probably a feather in his cap. You hated the thought of him revelling in your failure. Were you really so stupid as to ask him for help?

Before you knew it, you’d closed your eyes, fluttering in and out of consciousness. You would’ve made more of an effort to stay awake, in case Tsukishima did turn up and use the fact you were sleeping as an excuse to run off.

But you were just so tired…

Tsukishima Kei… bastard…

You could hear students shuffling around the library, but nobody seemed to be approaching you. How long had it been now? Were you a fool for waiting around for so long, for a boy who obviously wasn’t coming?

Alchemy… I have to pass…

A warm, pleasant sound came from above you, rousing you gently from your half-consciousness.

Was that… a laugh? Well, it wasn’t a true laugh; it was something more like a chuckle, like the person responsible for it was ashamed to be so amused.

Your eyes fluttered open, all bleary from your nap. “Huh?”

“If you don’t wake up, I’ll leave.”

Your head snapped up at that, your archnemesis coming into vision. You realised, then, that it must’ve been him that laughed. That unfortunately came hand-in-hand with the revelation that you didn’t hate the sound.

“I was tired,” you grumbled, stretching your arms above your head in a grandiose show.

“Whatever,” he sighed, slipping into the seat next to you with the air of a man who was about to start calculating his debts. “Maybe you should just head back to your dorm,” he sighed. “I don’t know if you’re in any state to study.”

“Listen,” you hissed, “I’m tired. And you’re late.”

“Relax,” Tsukishima yawned, reaching one hand into his bag. “I had work to do.”

You blinked at him, trying to soothe the anger brewing in your chest.

“I actually finished early, by the way.”

“Oh,” you swallowed, the anger quickly slipping into a mild guilt. “I’m— sorry—”

“Whatever,” he sighed, tossing a textbook onto the table.

You bit the inside of your cheek, unsure of what to say. You were supposed to be studying, right? That meant you couldn’t be too abrasive, lest you get nothing of worth done. Could you do that?

“Let’s just get this over and done with, alright?” He sounded just as bored as always.

You mumbled something incoherent, even to yourself.

“What do you need help with?” Tsukishima sighed, electing to ignore you.

“Uh…”

“Don’t say everything.”

You stayed resolutely silent.

“Fucking…” Tsukishima groaned, rubbing a temple with his fingers.

“Well, that’s not very polite,” you grumbled, crossing your arms as you sat back in your chair.

“I can’t help you if I don’t know what to focus on,” Tsukishima snapped, frustratingly straightforward. “Do you know the basics of chrysopoeia?”

You blinked at him for a moment. “Yes…?”

“Do you know what that is?”

“That’s when…” You frowned, racking your drowsy brain for the answer. The term was familiar, but…

“Come on.” Tsukishima looked like he was one breath away from getting up and leaving. “We did this last year.”

“Oh!” You gasped, sitting up a little straighter. “Gold! It’s gold!”

Tsukishima sighed. “Almost. Do you remember how to make gold?”

“What am I making it from?” You frowned. “You can’t ask such a broad question.”

He blinked at you for a second, seemingly frustrated at the fact that you were right. The base metal mattered, after all.

“Fine,” he mumbled. “I’m sure you know how to do it with lead, so… how about copper?”

The two of you ran over a series of transmutations, helping Tsukishima figure out the gaps in your knowledge. You couldn’t tell if he was impressed or annoyed by the fact that you knew more than he’d expected. You, at least, felt some sense of pride; you were smarter than he’d given you credit for. Although, another part of you felt as though you should be offended by the fact he’d thought you’d be stupider than this.

You glanced at the candle again. Another two hours had passed. Gods, you were getting tired. You plopped your crossed arms on the table, sinking down over them and using them as a pillow. You closed your eyes for a second, letting Tsukishima methodically explain the theoretical process of refining an alkahest.

“Are you even listening to me?” He hissed, nudging you with an elbow.

“Mhm,” you murmured, half your face covered by your crossed arms.

Tsukishima had half a mind to bonk you on the back of the head with his textbook. But, he wasn’t about to do that. Not when you seemed like you’d explode at him for the smallest of provocations.

It was a real shame you looked so cute, all sleepy—

What… the fuck? He thought to himself, freezing at the revelation.

You? Cute? Those were not two words that belonged together. Not under any circumstance.

“Get up,” he hissed, two fingers poking at your temple.

You groaned, trying to hit his assault away with a limp hand.

“We’re done here,” he huffed, standing up sharply.

You jolted upright in your chair, looking up at him with wide eyes. “But we’re not done!”

“It’s one in the morning,” he grumbled, pointing at the candle nestled in a cranny on the wall next to you. Sure enough, the wax had melted, leaving a stump that was only a couple of inches tall.

“But… but I still don’t feel like I’ve caught up,” you groaned, standing up with a creak in your bones. How old were you? Sixty?

“Not my problem,” he shrugged, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

No. No, you weren’t letting your one chance at academic redemption get away from you that easily.

“Tsukishima,” you whined, turning to look up at him with the most desperate puppy eyes you could manage. You had half a mind to clasp your hands together in front of you to really complete the image. “Tsukki—”

“Don’t call me that.”

Whoops. “I’m sorry!” You said, the phrase jumbling out a bit too quickly. “Please… please help me out again. Please.”

He looked down at you, his eyebrows pinched together in a look that you could only describe as mild disgust. Were you that annoying? Was this such a waste of his time?

“Fine.”

Huh? “Wait, are you serious?”

“Unfortunately,” he muttered.

An unbridled grin broke out across your face. You’d looked deflated mere seconds ago, but now you’d been given new life. Tsukishima was doing all he could to ignore how radiant you looked in the dim half-light of the lanterns.

“If I said no, you’d just keep pestering me about it,” he grumbled, turning his back to you.

You pouted, but had nothing to say. Unfortunately, he was right. You just turned back to your books, packing them into your bag.

“Hurry up,” Tsukishima sighed, making you jump.

“Hm?” You looked over your shoulder, surprised to see him still standing there.

“I want to go to sleep.”

“Then go to bed,” you blinked.

“I will,” he said, “but I can’t do that until I’ve dropped you off at your dorm.”

He said it so matter-of-factly that you almost apologised. Almost.

“Huh?”

“Just… just hurry up, okay?”

✧✧✧

“Hey, Tsukki? hat’s wrong?” Yamaguchi frowned, tilting his head at his companion. “You’re usually great at this stuff.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Tsukishima grumbled, letting his hand fall to his side. He’d been trying to produce a solid ball of light for the past five minutes.

“Are you sure?”

Tuskishima clenched his fist, feeling a wisp of air escape from it. Ah, so he’d been producing something, at least. But regardless, he was wasting their designated time in the courtyard. And he certainly didn’t plan on wasting any more of it by indulging Yamaguchi’s desire to pry into his private life.

“You’ve been kind of off these days, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi pouted, eyebrows pinched together as he regarded his friend. “Have you been sleeping alright?”

“I’ve been sleeping fine,” Tsukishima snapped. Even he knew that was a disproportionate response. But the fact of the matter was he certainly wasn’t sleeping as well as he could be. It was just that every time he closed his eyes, his thoughts managed to find their way back to you.

And quite frankly, he didn’t want to see you anymore than he had to. Even if it was in his half-asleep thoughts, where you were smiling up at him like you actually wanted to see him—

“Tsukishima!”

Oh no.

He cringed, jaw clenching as he saw you running towards him from the other side of the courtyard, your robes fluttering behind you.

Yamaguchi glanced at him, eyebrows raised just a little.

You came to a stop in front of them, giving them each a little bow. Only Yamaguchi returned it.

“What do you want?” Tsukishima swallowed, uncomfortably aware of Yamaguchi’s eyes.

“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi murmured. It was less his name and more a plea to not be so rude. Tsukishima could tell that from Yamaguchi’s tone of voice alone.

You looked up at Tsukishima, your features pulled into a look of perfect indignation. “Oh, so he’s allowed to call you Tsukki.”

“Bold of you to assume he ever asked me for permission,” Tsukishima grumbled.

You pouted at him for a moment, until your eyes lit up with a certain kind of mischief that Tsukishima had come to dread.

“He talks about you a lot,” you said, turning to Yamaguchi with the brightest smile on your face.

“I do not—”

“You sound like a good friend,” you beamed, hands behind your back. “Tsukki seems to hate literally everyone, so good job!”

“Why are you like this?” Tuskishima groaned, his hands coming up to cover his face.

“Like what?” You asked, your expression the perfect picture of innocence.

He wanted to choose his next words carefully. Very carefully.

“Ah!” You straightened up, your head whipping around to the other side of the courtyard.

“Is everything okay?” Tsukishima frowned, only the smallest touch of concern in his voice.

“I have a meeting,” you said, twirling around in a flurry of robes. “Bye!”

Tsukishima opened his mouth to shout after you; something about how you can’t run away from an argument, about how this entire exchange was entirely useless, about how you needed to keep better track of time…

But you were already gone. All he could do was stare at the spot you’d just been, a look of mild displeasure on his face.

He didn’t check that expression in time. Yamaguchi had already seen it.

“Oh?”

Oh no.

Yamaguchi was grinning. Widely. Usually he’d try and hide that sort of thing behind one of his hands, but not today.

“I don’t,” Tsukishima grumbled, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“I haven’t even said anything yet,” Yamaguchi giggled.

“Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong,” Tsukishima grunted, the tips of his ears suddenly feeling quite warm.

“So,” Yamaguchi hummed, tilting his head to the side. “Want to tell me about them?”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“Really?” Oh, Yamaguchi was having the time of his life. “You don’t want to… hold their hand, do you?”

“Yamaguchi.”

“What? I’m just curious.”

“Another word out of you and I’ll strike you down where you stand.”

✧✧✧

You liked Yamaguchi well enough. The fact that he was friends with Tsukishima was almost funny.

You just didn’t know why he was with the two of you right now.

“Yamaguchi.”

“Mhm?”

“Do you need to be here?” Tsukishima sighed, not looking up from the textbook.

“Aw, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi frowned, barely trying to hide the mischief in his eyes. “I just want to hang out with my best friend.”

“And?” Tsukishima prompted, rubbing his temples.

“Oh, Tuskki,” you pouted, tilting your head at him. “He just wants to hang out with his best friend! You’d really kick him out so coldly?” You didn’t know why Yamaguchi was in the mood to tease, but you definitely wanted to be a part of it.

“I didn’t ask for your input,” Tsukishima snapped, picking up his quill with an unusual amount of irritation.

Yamaguchi snickered.

“You should respect your friends some more,” you sighed, twirling your own quill in your fingers.

“Who are you?” Tsukishima scoffed. “My mother?”

“No.” You shook your head, sketching the symbol for mercury on your page absent-mindedly. “I would’ve raised you better.”

Yamaguchi had to cover his mouth at that one.

“You’re dragging my family into this?”

Oh shit, you thought, might want to backtrack that one. “You’re right, I should give your mother more credit. I can’t imagine having to put up with you for… what is it now? Eighteen? Nineteen years?”

“Do you want me to tutor you or not?” Tsukishima glowered at you. “Because if you’re going to keep being ungrateful, then—”

“I’m sorry!” You squeaked, bowing your head at him. “I take it back, you’re the most wonderful person I’ve ever met—”

“That wasn’t an indication to swing too far in the opposite direction,” he rolled his eyes, praying that his cheeks weren’t too pink. “Now just… just start solving that transmutation, okay?”

You pouted at him for a long moment.

“What?” Tsukishima sighed.

“I’m just wondering,” you mused, “Are you cursed?”

Tsukishima’s face dropped. “What are you on about?”

“Well, I was thinking,” you hummed, tapping the feather of your quill against your lips. Tsukishima was determined to look literally anywhere else.

“That’s not a good thing,” he mumbled.

“You’re literally incapable of saying anything nice to your friends,” you mused, tilting your head at him. “Is that because you’re cursed?”

“Do you ever say anything that makes sense?”

“See! That’s a great example!”

“What—we’re not friends—”

“Now that’s the meanest thing you’ve said to me so far!”

Why were you like this? Why were you so difficult to put a finger on? And why was Yamaguchi giggling?

“Yamaguchi,” Tsukishima growled, casting him a glance.

“I’ll be quiet,” Yamaguchi smiled, turning back to his own work.

“And you,” Tsukishima said, tapping you on the nose with his quill. “Get to work.”

For once, you complied. Fun as it was to get on Tsukishima’s nerves, you had an exam coming up. And if you lost your one comrade in this fight to the perils of homework, then you were willing to get serious yourself.

Unbeknownst to you, Yamaguchi wasn’t actually doing his work. Not at all. He was watching the two of you, desperate to catch a whiff of any romantic tension.

He’d never seen Tsukishima be this… patient. Sure, it might not have seemed that way to anyone else, but Yamaguchi knew the lanky blond better than anyone else here. The fact that Tsukishima was taking the time to explain anything to you was a miracle in itself.

But that wasn’t enough to convince him.

No, he was convinced by the deep flush of red that graced Tsukishima’s cheeks when you beamed up at him. You’d just re-explained a concept to him perfectly, and it was Tsukishima’s dry praise that got you to light up so much.

Poor Tsukishima didn’t know what to do, simply staring at you with a look that was halfway between annoyance and confusion. Yamaguchi hadn’t thought that an ‘angry blush’ was a thing, but he was seeing it right in front of his eyes.

What he didn’t know was that Tsukishima was angry for two reasons; the first was that you were so damn cute, despite how annoying you could be. The second was that he didn’t want to admit you were cute. Which meant this feeling had nowhere to go. It would just fester in a corner of his chest, ready to jump on him while he was trying to get to sleep.

“Did I do something wrong?” You asked, shocking Tsukishima out of his thoughts.

“Huh?”

“You’re glaring at me,” you said, biting your lip. “And you’re all red.”

“I’m fine,” he replied, a little too quickly.

Yamaguchi giggled at that. Did he have to be here? Tsukishima just wanted to suffer alone.

“Oi, guys!” A voice boomed out, much too loud for the library. “Come look at this!”

“Oh no,” Tsukishima sighed, fingers rubbing his temples. “Not them, too.”

You looked up, determined to see who, exactly ‘them’ was.

Three boys stood in front of you, two clad in the rich purple robes of the fourth years, and one in the emerald green of the third.

“Oh ho?”

“Oh ho ho?”

“What’s this?” One of the fourth years smirked, his unruly black hair sticking out at all angles. “Is our little Tsukki blushing?”

“Sure looks like it,” the other fourth year grinned, and you realised he was the voice that’d disturbed the peace. You realised, not without some amusement, that he looked something like an owl.

“Leave him alone,” the third year sighed. He had the air of a mother who’d been worn down from years of trying to look after some delinquent children.

You braved a glance at Tsukishima.

He looked like he wanted to die; but not without taking those two fourth years out with him.

“But Tsukki’s talking to someone who isn’t Yamaguchi,” Bokuto gasped, patting the third year on the shoulder. “Akaashi, this is big.”

“He talks to you, doesn’t he?” Akaashi sighed.

“Not by choice,” Tsukshima mumbled.

“Don’t be mean,” the other fourth year chided, crossing his arms.

“Can you please leave?” Tsukishima said. “We’re trying to work here.”

“Aw, you can’t talk to your precious upperclassmen?” Bokuto cooed.

“We happen to be quite busy.”

“He used ‘we’ twice,” the other fourth year pointed out, giving his friend a knowing look.

“For fuck’s sake…” Tsukishima sighed, rubbing his temples yet again. “I’m trying to help my—my friend study so they don’t fail an exam, okay?”

“I’m your friend?” You gasped, placing a hand over your chest in mock-delight.

Tsukishima only just realised what a terrible mistake he’d made.

“Oi, Kuroo,” Bokuto slapped the other fourth year’s arm with the back of his hand. Tsukishima didn’t like the look on either of their faces. “I need to talk to you about… something.”

Kuroo grinned in response, and both boys ran off so quickly that they might as well have puffed into smoke.

“I’m so sorry,” Akaashi mumbled, giving the three of you at the table a small bow.

“Not a problem,” you smiled, waving a hand at him.

He just nodded before walking off himself. You weren’t sure if he would bother looking for the other two or not.

You snuck a glance at Tsukishima. “Are you okay? You seem… stressed.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, rolling his shoulders.

“Friends of yours?” You hummed. “Like me?”

“You could say that,” he grumbled, his cheeks just as vibrant as they had been a couple of minutes ago.

You grinned, elated at your ‘win.’ Sure, a couple of weeks ago you would’ve balked at the thought of wanting Tsukishima Kei to call you his friend. Maybe it was because it had seemed so impossible to win any kind of approval from him.

Yeah, that had to be it.

“Can we go over the transmutations of iron?” You asked, cutting off your thoughts before they could steer themselves in a direction you didn’t like.

The two of you worked away for the next half an hour or so, Yamaguchi peacefully watching on from the other side of the table. But eventually, he’d seen all he wanted to see. And he wanted to give you two a little privacy; for Tsukishima’s pride, if nothing else.

“Anyway,” Yamaguchi yawned, stretching his arms above his head. “I’m going to go.”

You jumped. In all honesty, you’d totally forgotten he was there.

“Whatever,” Tsukishima sighed. He looked a bit like he was trying to fight off a yawn himself.

Yamaguchi stood up and gave you a little nod before beaming at Tsukishima. “Tsukki, I’ll see you later tonight at the dorms, right?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Tsukishima frowned.

“Just checking,” Yamaguchi said brightly. You had half a mind to ask him what that was about, but he’d scurried away from the table before you had time to think about it properly.

Tsukishima had decided to pay it no mind, instead just turning to you and saying something about gold. You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but you could feel the weight of the day beginning to bear down on the two of you.

Tsukishima groaned, running a hand through his hair.

“You okay?” You asked, glancing at him.

He sighed, taking his glasses off and pinching the bridge of his nose.

It shouldn’t have been a big deal. And it wasn’t really.

But seeing him without his glasses made you pause. Was Tsukishima Kei… handsome? Had he been handsome this entire time, and you were just too blinded by rage to notice it? And what were you supposed to do with this information?

You watched, rapt with terror as he put his glasses back on.

Enemy sighted. You blinked, trying to process what was going on.

What the fuck had just happened? Were you so tired as to think that your sworn rival Tsukishima Kei was attractive?

Besides, what did it even matter if he was handsome or not? Plenty of handsome people were downright unbearable. Not that you would slander Tsukishima in such a way. He wasn’t that bad.

“Hurry up,” he grumbled, packing his own books into his bag.

Oh, right. He was going to walk you back to your dorm. Again. He’d made a habit of it, after these little study sessions of yours. The fact that he was under no obligation to do such a thing made it all seem so… gentlemanly.

You said very little as you walked side by side, too wrapped up in your own thoughts. He was supposed to be your sworn rival. And yet, there you were, feeling a bit like you were floating, and a bit like you were about to throw up.

Oh, well. This would be over soon enough.

✧✧✧

“So.”

You looked up at him, biting your lip. “So.”

“How do you think you did?”

Tsukishima was close behind you as you left the classroom, the bubble of anxious conversation rippling through your peers.

You were more nervous about this closeness between you than you’d been about the damn exam. You swallowed, quickly maneuvering your way through the crowd to find some more open space.

“You haven’t answer my question,” Tsukishima grumbled, hot on your heels.

Oh, right.

“I did the best I could,” you said, looking up at him with a smile.

He smiled back.

Oh, no. No, you weren’t used to that. You weren’t used to how cute he looked when he smiled. Oh, this was all unfamiliar territory. You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know what to feel. Uh—

“I tried my best, and that’s what matters,” you breathed, turning around and skipping down the hallway. What were you? Seven?

Tsukishima watched you, his legs long enough to keep up with you without issue. “Are you… okay?”

He probably thinks I’m weird, you thought. I’m an adult and I’m bloody skipping down the hallway like a child—

“Yes! I’m fine!” You lied, slowing down to a regular walking speed. What were you even supposed to say to him anymore, now that the exam was done?

Tsukishima hummed, but he didn’t press the issue further. Which was worse—you abhorred the silence.

“I just don’t know what I’m going to do with my evenings, now,” you said, more in a bid to fill the space between you than anything else. “I’m going to be deathly bored.”

Maybe that was a little too honest.

But you didn’t miss how he very quietly murmured, “Me too.”

Oh, you weren’t going to let that go. Not at all.

You zipped in front of him, coming to a standstill. He skidded to a stop himself, both startled and embarrassed at the fact that he’d nearly just tripped over you.

You looked up at him resolutely, a mixture of nervousness and mischief painted across your face. “That’s because you won’t be hanging out with me, right?”

Tsukishima opened his mouth as if to say something, but he seemed to stop himself from responding. But, his cheeks bloomed a familiar red, and the tenderness in his eyes betrayed him.

Your heart hammered in your chest, and you felt a handful of words away from humiliating yourself. But there was a little, tiny opening here, and you didn’t want to let it go to waste.

“Would you… like to catch up later?” You asked, tilting your head at him.

“To… study?”

You did have a couple more exams to worry about. But that wasn’t what you were interested in.

“We can if you really want to,” you smiled, lacing your hands together behind your back. “But wouldn’t it be more fun to head into town?”

“Sure,” he swallowed, sticking his hands in his pockets. He couldn’t quite meet your gaze, his entire posture screaming with awkwardness. He really had no clue how to handle this, did he?

“You know I’m talking about a date, right?” A tease or two wouldn’t hurt.

“Of course I know that!” He snapped, neck and ears now slowly turning red. “I’m not dumb!”

“Ah! So you do like me then!” You giggled, well-aware that your own cheeks must be glowing by now.

“I—I never said that,” he huffed, finally looking at you.

You frowned at him, eyes wide and round with hurt. It did sting a little.

“But… But I never said I don’t,” he grumbled, running a hand through his hair.

You beamed up at him, standing up a little straighter as relief flooded your chest.

“You’re so exhausting,” he whined, bringing his hands up to cover his face. You’d count that as an absolute win.

You laughed, stepping forward and tugging at his wrists. You weren’t used to that kind of contact, but you were determined to start familiarizing yourself with it.

He dropped one of his hands from his face with some reticence, and you took the opportunity to lace your fingers through his.

“Let’s get something to eat,” you said, positive that if his hand wasn’t tying you to the ground, you’d be floating off into the great unknown.

He said nothing. But, he didn’t let go of your hand.

Some part of you felt like gloating. You’d managed to leave the Tsukishima Kei speechless; and you’d managed to make him blush. Even if your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest, and even though you couldn’t stop a smile from taking over your face, you’d managed to get the last laugh.

But, had you really?

✧ ✧

“I can’t believe it,” Kuroo snorted, watching the two of you from the other side of the courtyard.

“I told you they’d be fine,” Akaashi sighed, a little flutter of relief in his chest.

“I still think our plan would’ve been great,” Kuroo yawned, scratching the back of his neck.

“Leaving two people stranded in the forest is more likely to leave them panicked, not ready for love,” Akaashi said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kuroo sighed, waving a hand at his friend. He glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “You okay?”

An expression of resigned acceptance graced Akaashi’s face. “Bokuto’s never going to shut up about this.”

#tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima kei #tsukishima kei imagines #tsukishima imagines #haikyuucreations #okay so it didn't show up in the tags so i'm posting it again :|#me: i don't want to look at this again #tumblr: oh that's nice :)

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clonecaptains · 4 years

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CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS | vampire!oberyn martell x reader

rating: e - for typical oberyn smut & this is a vampire story so there’s some blood and some suspenseful moments!

word count: 3.7k

summary: You’re on a tour of the medieval prince Oberyn’s castle. You take a wrong turn during the tour and end up somewhere you don’t expect. Maybe this castle really is haunted.

masterlist

a/n: this is an attempt at some horror-esque writing and im really excited to share this w/ yall! feedback is much appreciated and as always thank you to my partner in crime @pascalispedro for your help w/ this!!!

Closed for Renovations

Travelling the world alone is a mistake. That’s what your family and friends told you. Maybe they were right. But you needed a time of self-reflection and to do what you wanted to do. No agenda. No time restraints. Other than when tours started, or transportation would leave. You could do what you want and when you wanted.

This week you’re in Spain. You’d seen an advertisement for ancient Spanish castles, and you wanted to hit as many as you could.

It’s a sunny day when the bus drops you and other tourists off at your next castle. You’d leaned against the glass window of the bus on the way in, completely in awe of the sheer size of the estate. The stone showing its age but still standing strong. The sunlight shining on the towers and sturdy walls.

The air is fresh when you step outside the bus. A groundskeeper nearby is mowing the lush grass. There’s a clamor of excitement from the tourists with you. You hear whispers about this castle being haunted.

You don’t believe in ghosts, but there’s still a chill that goes up your spine when you look up. The walls are steep from the ground. And is that? A face you see in the window?

“Everyone gather round for the tour!” the tour guide’s voice distracts you for a moment, but that chill still lingers. You shake your head; you’re letting the whispers get to you.

The tour group shuffles inside and you’re in the middle. You cross the threshold into the main entrance, and you gasp. It’s a gorgeous room, it’s massive. Every wall and floor are dark stone, ancient bricks still mortared together after all these years. Black and red tapestries and velvet carpets and ropes line the walls and floors. Chandeliers and candles line the walls and ceilings. The old fixtures remain but are dark – the more modern fixtures illuminate the space with electricity. Many fixed with fake electric candles to look as if the lights are flickering.

The tour guide is speaking, but you’re only half listening as your eyes are drawn to a large portrait on the back wall. It’s difficult to see in the lighting. Though there are small windows, there’s a shadow cast over the dark painting. The reds and blacks match the rest of the space around it.

The man is handsome. Tall. There’s a glint in his eye, a mischievous look. His robes are exquisite. Black, with dark grey suns sewn in the fabric. A deep red tunic is under the robes, and an expensive necklace hangs low on his neck. Many rings are on his fingers. And the tan skin of his chest is on full display. He’s on the stone steps, hand on the banister. Glancing down you see the spot where this portrait was painted.

“Prince Oberyn Martell, known as ‘The Red Viper,’” the guide points to the painting. “This was his estate. It was given to him by his father the king. Oberyn was due to inherit the throne but was murdered on these very grounds in mysterious circumstances.” The tour guide makes his voice try to sound ‘spooky,’ but you can’t help but roll your eyes at his weak attempt.

“How did he die?” someone in the group asks.

“No one knows how the prince was killed. All that is known is his untimely death came in the south tower. It’s where his body was recovered, and he was buried.”

“Is the south tower on the tour?” another voice asks.

“It’s unfortunately closed due to renovations; however, the north tower is identical and Oberyn’s tomb has been recreated there!” This seemed to satisfy the crowd, but you heard someone behind you whisper about how people mysteriously go missing in the south tower.

“They had to cancel tours because someone always went missing.”

You feel that chill again looking up to the painting of the prince. Was it smiling like that before?

You really need to get some sleep.

The next room you’re led to off the entrance is the dining hall. A long table stretches the length of the room. The tour guide mentions notable guests that would have dined at this table during the life of the prince.

Another portrait of him is above the fireplace.

“This guy was vain wasn’t he,” someone snickers.

“In fact,” the tour guide laughs, “he was indeed. While known for his generosity to his kingdom, he was known for being promiscuous and a host of wild parties. There are dozens of stories of his famous orgies and the lovers he’s taken. There’s a speculation he was murdered for the secrets he knew.”

As the tour continues, you find yourself hoping to find a new portrait in each room. Each one he looks the same. Same strong jawline, same handsome features. The only difference is his pose and the background behind him. Each painting resides in the room where it was painted. And each one is perfectly placed in the room, so a shadow is cast over it. He’s never fully in the light.

It’s disappointing to discover so many parts of the castle are roped off due to renovations. You’d hoped to see the library, or his old bedroom – but both are closed.

“Last part of the tour ladies and gentlemen! The north tower! As I said before, the south tower is closed – so this tower is an extra replica!”

The guide leads the group up a steep spiral stone staircase into the top room of the tower. Immediately upon entering, you notice there’s no portrait of him in here. There’s a fireplace, a few books scattered, and most noticeably, in the center of the room is a stone coffin.

Across the top, is a statue of Oberyn laying on his back. You examine the stone seeing him in further detail in better lighting. He has a crooked nose, and a thin line of hair growing along his jaw. The artistry is beautiful, the craftsman worked hard on the detail. The very stitches of his robes are etched in the stone.

You pause at his neck, there seems to be a small scar. Two in fact. You lean in to touch the stone when the tour guide gasps, “don’t touch!”

The exclamation startles you and you topple backwards. You catch yourself on your hands, but the abrasive stone scrapes the palm of your hand. Frazzled, you part from the tour to look for the bathroom you saw on the way in.

The lights in the bathroom are harsh and unforgiving in comparison to the dimly light halls of this castle. It’s strange to be in a modern room in the middle of something so ancient.

Hissing in pain, you approach the sink sticking your hand in the warm water. There’s more blood that you originally thought, and it smears on your hand making you feel squeamish. You splash cold water on your face and feeling dizzy still – you enter an empty stall to sit down for a moment. To breathe.

There’s something in the air in here. You feel a thickness in the air, a weight on your lungs. It’s hot and sticky, but there’s a chill running up your spine and goosebumps on your arms. You can’t get those shadowy eyes out of your head.

It’s just ghost stories.

You’d read about how scary stories affect the body. It activates your fight or flight instinct, puts you on high alert. It’s perfectly reasonable to be a little spooked in a centuries old castle where there was a sinister murder.

Feeling silly, you shake your head at yourself and get a fresh paper towel to clean off your hand. Tossing it in the trash, you start to make your way back to the tour. It’ll be over soon, and the castle will be closed to the public.

You’d run into the bathroom in such a hurry you don’t remember which way you came in. Suddenly you’re down a hall you don’t remember seeing. It’s a long hall of portraits. Not of Oberyn though. You’re in shock at how gorgeous they all are. Each painting is massive – the bottom of the frame touches the floor, and the top of the frame touches the ceiling. Each portrait is of someone different, elegantly dressed with an even more extravagant room behind them – none of which you recognize.

You know now you’re in one of the closed off hallways.

You won’t stay long, just enough to see the Oberyn portrait down at the end.

You vaguely hear the announcement for the castle closure, but you want just one peek at this painting. Then you’ll leave.

This one is the most beautiful so far of Oberyn. It’s still in a shadow, but you step right up to it to look at it. Behind him is what you can only assume is his bedroom. A fireplace is in the corner and a large four poster bed in the center. He’s in the same red and black robes that you’ve seen all afternoon. The detail on this one is intricate. All the others have been mounted high on the walls – too far away for your eyes to see the tiny details.

Leaning in you look at his neck, to see if there’s a scar like on the stone coffin. You get closer and closer-

“Are you lost miss?” you hear a voice behind you, and you gasp.

“You scared me!” you laugh, turning expecting to see a worker from the castle museum behind you. Only, you don’t see anyone. “Hello?”

Your heart starts pounding. Are you hearing things? Or is this place really haunted?

You turn back around to the Oberyn painting but instead of the painting – it’s the man himself. You scream and turn to run back down the hall, only to your horror to see all of the ‘paintings’ come to life. Each portrait subject takes a step out of the wall – they were never paintings. They were only standing still – a trick of the light allowing you to believe they were paintings.

At first you think it’s a prank, until you see their eyes turn black and fangs in their mouth catch the light.

“Are you lost my dove?” Oberyn’s voice comes as a devilish whisper on your neck. His hand coming to grasp your arm to keep you from running, or perhaps to keep them from getting to you.

“Virgin blood is the sweetest blood,” a man nearby hisses, and you try to pull away from Oberyn.

“Aye,” Oberyn hums bringing your hand up to his lips. He tenderly brushes a kiss to your injured palm. “You had one last month,” he tuts at the man. “Leave her alone!” he speaks out to the long hallway. Most of them turn around and retreat to their rooms. You see that now; the frames were only the doorframes.

The rest of them leave the hallway to move about the castle. It’s well after dark now.

You’re alone with the prince now.

“Are you lost little dove?” he repeats. His voice is thick and smooth like honey. The rich accent coats the air.

“Is this a prank?” you start to cry, “I promise I’ll leave.”

“It is no prank sweet one.”

“Are you real? I thought you died?”

He chuckles, then looks up at you – showing you his four fangs and black eyes. You gasp, and quick as a blink he looks back to normal.

“Are you going to kill me?” the tears still falling from your eyes.

“No,” he shushes, wiping your tears with a long warm finger.

“But he said something about virgin blood,” you sniffle. Your entire world just came crashing down realizing that these creatures do in fact exist and that’s all you can think to say.

“My subjects partake in the pleasurable taste of human blood. It’s like a drug to them.” He’s stalking around you in a circle now, observing you. “I however,” he brings your hand up to his lips, pressing them to the back of your hand, “prefer to partake in the pleasure of, well – pleasure.” His smile is wicked, and you can see his fangs peek out from under his lips.

He pulls you to him, his other hand coming to rest on your hip. His lips part from your hand, hovering above your neck. You tremble in his arms and you wince when he opens his mouth.

This is it, you think. You’re going to die here in some castle in Spain and never see your family again.

Your body tenses, ready for the bite, but instead his lips press on your skin in a gentle kiss.

“I mean no harm,” he purrs. “I cannot say the same for my subjects. For your own safety you may dine with me tonight as my guest and you’ll be free to leave in the morning. If you choose to leave now, I cannot guarantee your safety.”

He offers his hand to you, waiting for you to take it.

Weighing your options – you figure why not? And take his hand.

His slender fingers weave with yours as if you were familiar lovers. He brings your hand up to his lips again to kiss your knuckles. He guides you, leading you out of the long hallway and into the main entrance, speaking softly as you go.

“How did you sustain this injury?” he asks, thumb brushing over the torn skin on your palm.

“I fell. In the north tower.”

“Ah yes, the false rendering of my tomb in the south tower.”

The night continues to get stranger – the electric lights in the main entrance have gone out. The space is illuminated now with the real candle fixtures on the walls.

“Is that how you really died?” you ask. You look at him and look for the scars on his neck but see none.

“It is,” he replies. “But when I was reborn the scars healed.”

He walks you through the entire castle, telling you its secrets. There’s a party going on in every room, men and women’s bodies tangled with each other. Food and wine are everywhere. Oberyn walks casually with you on his arm.

“Does this shock you?” he asks seeing you turn your eyes away from a group of people pleasuring each other.

“It’s – not how I thought this day was going to go,” you laugh.

“Let me take you somewhere quieter?” he offers and leads you back down the ‘portrait’ hall into his ‘painting.’

There’s a tray of food on a table, and your stomach growls. It dawns on you that you’ve not eaten in hours.

“Please,” he motions towards the tray and you hungrily grab a piece of bread.

Hunger gets the better of you, but you’re still suspicious.

“How do I know that you’re not just feeding me so that you can feed off me?” you ask him. “I don’t want to be eaten.”

He chuckles at your frankness and takes a step towards you.

“The only part of you I wish to eat,” he steps closer. You freeze and drop the bread in your fingers. “Is that sweetness between your thighs,” he purrs his body now pressing up against yours. His hand cupping your sex through your jeans. “I only need permission.”

You shudder, but you can feel the electricity through his fingers. It’s strong, it’s a magnetic pull. You have no other option but to say yes.

The moment the word exits your lips, the lights in the room dim. The roaring fire quiets down.

His hands reach for your shoulders and he begins to kiss your neck again. This time opening his mouth a little. You can feel the graze of his fangs on your neck – but they do not break the skin.

“Wait,” you gasp and pull back. “Does the door have to be open?” you ask motioning towards the door leading to that hallway.

Oberyn smirks, his left eyebrow lifting.

“The rooms have no doors; it’s so my lovers can pour in and out of whatever room they wish.”

You look down at your feet, not enjoying the idea of being seen by others. You’ve only just barely agreed to be seen by him.

“Fear not,” he coos and hooks a finger under your chin. He snaps his fingers and you hear a slam of a door behind you. Turning to look, you see a door has appeared. You don’t question it. This is already a weirder night than possibly imagined.

Oberyn pulls your attention back to him, and he shrugs his outer robe. Leaving him in the tunic underneath. For a moment you wonder if he’ll have issue taking off your sweatshirt and jeans, but then you think – he must have been doing this for years.

“Why me?” you ask, trying to calm yourself down as he kisses along your neck and under your jaw.

“I smelled you when you first walked in, knew I wanted to taste you,” he licks your neck and you shudder again. He pulls on your sweatshirt – tugging it off you. Your shirt comes next, then your jeans.

When you’re left exposed in your underwear, he licks his lips – he sucks on his teeth making a sharp sound.

“You look ravishing,” he hums – tracing his finger along your shoulders and down your arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

He shrugs his tunic then, leaving him in pants only. That chain and rings also remain on his tan skin.

The trembling never stops. His intoxicating presence is clouding your judgement, the alarm bells in your mind are being muted. It was only just a few hours ago that you were learning about this man, and now he’s unhooking your bra with swift fingers.

“Here sweet one,” he coos and guides you to the bed for you to lie down, “your knees shake.”

You lay back and he comes to lay down next to you. He props up on his elbow, and his other hand comes to grasp at your breast. Fingertips trace around your nipple, he chuckles when it perks for him. He pinches your nipple then with two fingers and you jolt. He does the same to your other breast, and his mouth comes to rest on the other. His lips sucking, his fangs ever so slightly grazing. It’s hot in the room, stifling. That chill up your spine is no longer a chill, but deep arousal. It’s not in the back of you neck anymore, it’s pooling between your legs.

When he’s satisfied that you’re satisfied, he slithers off the bed and kneels between your legs dangling off the bed. Those quick fingers dance along your panties and he looks to you for permission, which you give with a sigh. He tugs them down and parts your legs with his hands before you can close them in your shyness.

It doesn’t scare you to have his dangerous mouth so close to you. In fact, the first touch of his tongue almost kills you from pleasure, not from fear. His fingers tease your opening and slide as far as they can go. You gasp roughly when you feel a cold ring pressing against your slick wet entrance.

His lips suck on your sex while his fingers move inside. The combination of the two has you toppling over the edge in no time.

No one at home will believe this.

As you come down, he stands to rid himself of the rest of his clothes. He pushes you back further on the bed so that you’re resting on a pillow. You look around for a moment, taking in the scene. From this angle, you can see the closed door, if it were open, you’d have a view of the entire hall. There are no windows in this room, only paintings and tapestries. Oberyn comes into your sight then, very tan in the orange glow from the fire, and very naked. The flames catch his necklace and rings, they shine even in the dull light.

You blush to see him so naked, but it arouses you all the same.

“Are you alright my dove?” He purrs laying down on top of you.

You nod, growing to like this pet name he’s given you. You have no thoughts in your head about what tomorrow will bring, only that you feel the tip of him at your entrance. His skin burns like a furnace, you thought he’d be cold. But it’s quiet the opposite.

He kisses your lips hungrily when he pushes inside. Your hips rise up to meet his and his hands wrap around your body to hold you to him. He swallows your cries and your body tingles and burns with the intense heat and pleasure he’s giving you. His thrusts are sure, slow, and heated at times, but fast and harsh in others. It’s as if he knows exactly what your body needs to reach that delicious high that you’re chasing.

His lips move down to your neck when your orgasm closes in. He’s pushing, thrusting hard and fast on that spot that has you seeing stars. Your body shakes, pulses, quivers. He bites on your neck when you come undone, the pleasure pounding in your veins. You’ve never felt like this before, never felt this good. Your entire body thrums from the nerves and exhilaration of having been taken to bed for the first time. The pleasure is blinding.

The rest of the night is a blur to you, your orgasm so strong.

The next thing you remember that’s clear – is you wake in the morning in the bathroom. A worker comes in to find you on the floor.

“Are you alright?” she asks, panic in her voice at finding a person so early in the morning.

“I think I must have passed out,” you laugh. But you don’t remember anything. The last thing you remember was scraping your hand and coming here to clean it off.

She laughs politely, but then turns to leave quickly. You shrug it off and try to remember what happened last night. Now it’s last night that is a blur.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you feel a sharp pain in your neck. You gasp to touch the wound to feel four holes. The memories all flooding back.

You turn to look in the mirror to get a better look at your neck. The pain is getting worse, it’s white hot.

You gasp then when you see – you have no reflection.

#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #game of thrones #pedro pascal #vampire oberyn #my writing #my gifs #mine #KJHKJLKJL IM SO EXCITED #taylor talks

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s0ngbirrd · 3 years

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I've done did it

I fell into the FNaF:SB rabbit hole- After falling out of FNaF for god knows how long, I crash landed back into it(Glamrock Freddy my beloved 😔)

So then I said "OC time" and now I have OCs I've decided to share- One's a remake of an OG oc and the other is one I've mde recently that I intend to draw digitally some time(maybe)

First up: Hogaraka the Red Panda(Hoga/Raka). He's colorful because of him being obsessed with neons and lights and such. When he was powered on, his optics were defective, and everything was gray. He had to go three weeks seeing no color, until they finally got new(and unfortunately, mismatched) optics. He's a dancer and general entertainer, able to perform stunts with his hoops. His tail can split into storage compartments, much like his chest/stomach. He's not a Glamrock, but is often mistaken for one. In game, he'd be neutral, and could be found stuck in his ropes on stage. If freed, he becomes a secondary ally. If left there, he becomes another enemy to worry about. He's useful, because he can bonk the other three with heavier stunt rings, and he's good at climbing. If made an enemy, the player could upgrade Freddy to be able to sort of "flash bang", which would mean removing Raka's rings/patternings and transferring them. However there's a good chance it'd mess up Freddy's optics as well, since it's a bright light. Either that, or his "paw grips", which are materials similar to silicone that help him maintain his grip, would be the upgrade. It'd enable Freddy(Or Gregory) to have a better grip on things. Would increase accuracy from rings(since I feel they would pick them up due to them being highly durable), and decrease bag/present opening time.

Connor the Caracal(nicknames depend on the one speaking to him) my beloved- OC #2 for FNaF:SB. More based off my self-sona, he's more a singing kinda guy. Yes, I know Freddy's already the vocalist, but it's pretty handy to keep a backup. He can also sing misc. harmonies, which enables layering songs(if that makes sense). He's a Caracal, and is, in fact, a Glamrock. His downfalls are that he's terrified of children, seems to have some kind of ADHD/Anxiety issues??, "tics" (glitches) when under pressure or stress, or nervous, collects random shiny objects he finds, and can be temperamental and snappy. His stomach's built how it is because he's more flexible than a common animatronic.. which may be an issue. He's, again, terrified of children. Imagine your friend walks up to you, and suddenly, BOOM, child, wyd? He'd turn tail and run. I based his ears off of my headphones. The insides of his ears(and his shoulders, plus some of his colored markings) change color. He can decide the color of his ears, but everything else is sound reactive, so deaf peoples may enjoy the beat of the music too. Not only can he change the brightness of all his lights, his pawpads also change color. He's pretty strong in the legs, lacking upper arm strength. He also moves quicker, but his claws tap on the ground. Chest opens to store miscellaneous things, but could probably comfortably fit a child if absolutely necessary. Sort of doubles as a guard; Will not hesitate to kick somebody out for endangering others. However, he gets nervous trying to hold a convo with one of the other animatronics, and Map Bot spooks him on multiple occasions. As a Caracal, a type of large cat, he sees better in the dark than anything else, and also hears a lot better too. Connor's more of a lawful evil, but if stunned with lights, can be snapped out of this and become chaotic good/neutral, depending on circumstances. If dismantled instead, there's two upgrade ways to go. 1). Tail: Adds balance, enables Freddy to take sharper turns and move quicker. 2). Hearing: Audio receptors would be removed, giving Freddy a better sense of where the others are in the building. Somewhat like echolocation, except he's not sending out a sonar type of wave. Sonar makes the audio receptors fritz out.

So, these are my OCs! They're still major WIPs, but I like how they're coming along so far!

#fnaf security breach #fnaf original character #fnaf oc #fnaf #fnaf fandom

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polaroid15 · 4 years

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Febuwhump day 3 - Imprisonment

Hey everyone! Here’s day 3! This is one of my favourites, so I really hope you enjoy! <3 <3

Summary:

“What do I need to do?”

“It’s simple, really,” the man replies. He steps closer to Peter, gaze hardening. “Though I set up the board, the game is in your hands, Stark. Find the boy before it’s too late, and collect your prize.”

Another pause.

“How much time do I have?”

“Well, until he bleeds out.”

---Or, Peter is kidnapped by a crazy guy in a clown mask. Typical.---

Read this chapter and previous ones on Ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29138196/chapters/71656323

---

The room is freezing.

Waking up is horrible, the cold seeming to penetrate every cell in his body before his eyes even have their chance to open. When by some miracle they do, he’s met with a dark and unfamiliar room. A basement, by the looks of it, stripped down to its cement foundation.

It’s January, a very unfortunate time to be kidnapped and brought to an undeveloped basement, Peter thinks. Why his captor couldn’t have waited to kidnap him in a warmer month is beyond his delirious thought process, or why they hadn’t at least let him keep his jacket. Hell, they even took his shoes, which is beyond rude. Every time he breathes a thin vapor rises up to bite at his eyes.

Or maybe the sting is just tears.

He tries to move, to warm up his shaking body, but it’s practically impossible in his current situation, tied and gagged tightly in every possible way to a thick wooden chair. They must’ve pumped his veins with something to keep him docile, because no matter how much he squirms, he remains stuck.

He chokes on a breath behind the gag, panicked, and pulls harder.

But he can barely hold up his head, let alone break free.

Oh man.

Peter lays his head back against the chair and floats for a minute, trying to calm his heart. Tony will come for him.

He always does.

It’s uncomfortable and lonely, but Peter refuses to be scared. He bites hard on the gag between his teeth to keep them from chattering and stares at the closed door he faces, waiting for his attacker to show themself.

The waiting is the worst part, he decides, and shivers again.

He thinks of Tony again, wondering if the man knows about his absence as he wiggles his wrists around the tightly knotted rope keeping his hands trapped together behind him. It burns and aches but combats the cold, so he continues to struggle with as much vigor as his weakened body can handle.

His mind searches desperately for the explanation of his current predicament, the memory connecting him to this awful place, but it evades him like smoke.

A violent shiver rips through his body. He can feel it from the tips of his toes to the crown of his head. God he hates winter. If someone didn’t come for him soon, he’d be nothing more than a Peter popsicle.

Before the imagery of the thought can really sink in, the door opens so suddenly that Peter’s shivering stops short for him to jump. Hot adrenaline courses through his veins and causes tears spring up into his eyes at the contrast of it all. The person who enters is tall and broad, their face obscured by a graphic clown mask. A new kind of shiver runs down Peter’s spine like an electrical current and he tips his chin up in defiance, growling unintelligible words at his kidnapper through the thick cloth pulled between his lips.

“Hello, Peter.”

There must be some form of speech disguiser built into the mask, because the voice that greets him is choppy and mechanical. It fills the empty space between them and Peter narrows his eyes into slits, forcing his heart to keep its normal tempo.

Don’t show that you’re scared. Don’t show that you’re scared-

“I do hope you’re comfortable,” the man says, the silicon skin of the clown twisted up into a manic smile. “I can’t wait for the fun we’ll have.”

Peter mumbles into his gag again, feeling powerless without his voice. He twists his wrists again violently, the adrenaline giving him some strength, but it’s not nearly enough.

He’s trapped.

“Now, now, I know what you must be thinking. What is a boy like me doing in a place like this? Let me assure you, Mr. Parker, that this is no random circumstance. I have been watching you for quite some time.”

Even if Peter could talk, he’d be speechless. Fear rushes through him with the force of a tidal wave, stinging at his eyes and rising acid in his throat. The man tilts his crazed, masked head to the side as if in intrigue and lets out a high pitched mechanical laugh. Despite his stubborn resolve, Peter flinches.

“Tony Stark doesn’t have many people in his inner circle,” the man continues gleefully, “and I have come to find that you are one of them! A weak, defenseless teenager. The opportunity was simply too wonderful to pass up on!”

Not Spider-Man, then.

Good.

“Tell me, Peter. What will it take to bring our so-called superhero to his knees?” The man steps closer, smelling like cigarette smoke and leather. “How many fingers?”

Peter gasps into the gag as the man’s gloved hands curl around his throat, closing tight. “My, my Peter,” the man laughs, stroking his thumb across Peter’s jugular. “Your heart is beating fast. Are you afraid?”

Slowly, Peter shakes his head. The grip on his throat tightens and the man’s face swoops down towards him until they’re only inches apart. When he speaks again, it’s only a whisper. “I don’t believe you.”

With that, his captor releases his hold, shoving Peter’s head back violently. It takes every ounce of self control not to show his discomfort and he settles once more to glaring at the masked man with as much malice as he can muster.

“Shall we give your beloved hero a call?”

Uncaring for Peter’s response, the man pulls out a dull black flip phone from his pocket. He must have Tony’s number memorized because he types it in with ease. Peter wonders how he found it.

It rings three times, and even though his captor is standing a couple feet away, Peter hears Tony’s voice fill the receiver with perfect clarity.

“This is Stark.”

As if hardly believing his luck, the clown man raises an animated fist into the air and cackles out a high pitched laugh. It would’ve been funny in a different circumstance. When the laugh dies and the man collects himself, he brings the phone close to the mask where his lips are hidden behind, savouring every word. “Hello Stark.”

A long pause meets the greeting. Peter can picture Tony in his mind’s eye, weighing his options with a weary annoyance. Finally, his voice carries through the receiver. “Look, frankly I don't have the time for this. Either tell me what you want or find another billionaire to piss off.”

“Very well.” The mechanical voice continues to grate under Peter’s skin, unnerving him to the bone. It’s almost worse than the cold. “I’ll keep it short and sweet. For if anyone is to know the true value of time, it’s me. And, of course, our darling mutual friend Peter.”

“Peter?” Even if Tony were trying to mask his surprise, it’s failing. Peter grinds his nails into the soft skin on his hand he can reach, feeling a vicious swipe of guilt run through him in icy fragments. “How do you-”

“Know him?” The man finishes. His crazed eyes turn to Peter from behind the mask, attaching to his frame with a repulsing intensity. “We’ve been able to spend a lot of quality time together, Peter and I. I see why you love him.”

The next time Tony speaks, it's in anger. Peter flinches at the sound and tries to control his breathing. “If you lay one single hand on that boy I swear to God I’ll skin you alive.”

“Tut, tut. I would speak more kindly to me if I were you.”

A measured breath, the softening of tone.

“Fine. What do I need to do?”

“Simple, really,” the man replies. He steps closer to Peter, gaze hardening. “Though I set up the board, the game is in your hands, Stark. Find the boy before it’s too late, and collect your prize.”

Another pause.

“How much time do I have?”

“Until he bleeds out.”

Without further warning, the man pulls out a handgun, aims it at Peter, and pulls the trigger. At first, Peter thinks the man missed. Then, as the ringing echo of the shot fades from his ears, he feels the pain in one giant tidal wave of agony and screams.

Even with the gag, the sound is piercing. The man laughs robotically and claps his hands in quick succession. The shot had hit him in the top of his right thigh, the blood warm and slick as it gushes from the wound. He refuses to look at it, keeping his wobbly vision trained stubbornly at his attacker.

“Well this has been great fun, Stark, but sadly it’s time for me to go,” he says, returning his ear to the phone. “I would hurry if I were you.”

Before he leaves, the man walks up beside Peter once more, phone still connected and in hand. He strokes Peter’s hair, the plastic smile unfailing, and hooks his fingers around Peter’s gag. With a surprising gentleness, he pulls it loose, then settles the phone against Peter’s shoulder where he pins it there with his head.

“I hope he hears you take your last breath,” the man says. “Goodbye, Peter Parker.”

Peter’s chest is heaving. Before his captor leaves, he snakes his hand down to Peter’s thigh, fingers hovering over the rapidly bleeding wound. He pushes them down into the bullet hole and Peter screams again, ripping his throat raw. All he sees is white, and though his lucidity ebbs like the tide, he focuses everything on keeping the phone pressed against his shoulder. Static runs through the device, but if it forms any words, it's simply beyond his comprehension.

When his vision clears, the man in the clown mask is gone.

And he’s alone.

“Peter?”

Gasps turn into sobs. Peter can’t help it.

He’s finished with being strong.

“T-Tony. Tony!”

There’s a heavy exhale of pent up air on the other end of the line and Peter tries his hardest to focus on it, on anything to distract himself from the absolute burning torture in his leg.

“You’re- you’re okay kiddo. You’re going to be fine. I’m on my way to get you right now okay?”

“It- it hurts-”

“I know bud, I know. You’ve been so brave. I just need you to hang on a little longer.”

Peter throws his head back against his chair, blinking out stars as unwanted tears leak out of the corners of his eyes like hot wax. The ceiling spins harshly when he looks at it, so he closes his eyes and tries to keep his sobs from erupting.

“Parker!”

“Wha?” For a moment, Peter thinks he’s being saved. He lifts his head, careful to keep the phone in place. But when his eyes adjust to the spinning room, it’s empty.

“You checked out there for a minute,” Tony says. Again, Peter hears the fear lacing his mentor’s tone. It should make him feel scared, he thinks, but it doesn’t. Not really.

“S’ry.”

“It’s okay. You’re fine. I’m almost there, okay?”

“M’kay.”

“I’m not getting any reports for Karen,” Tony says, his voice more gentle than Peter’s ever heard it. “Are you in your suit bud?”

“No.”

“Can you reach the wound? Put pressure on it?”

More tears fall out of Peter’s eyes. He wishes they would stop. “N-no. My hands are- are tied.”

“Okay,” Tony says again, voice even. “Just hang on. Stay awake. Five minutes, I promise.”

“Mmm.”

“How was school today Pete?” Tony asks urgently. “Tell me all about it.”

Surprised, Peter tries to remember. If Tony’s asking, it must be important. Searching for the memories feels equivalent to walking through quicksand or punching through a brick wall.

“Peter?”

“Um. Had a chemistry test. Was good.”

“That’s great,” Tony says. “What else?”

The burning pain in Peter’s leg has faded significantly, replaced by a blissful numbness. He knows it’s bad but is too relieved to dwell on it, sinking into the reprieve with open arms. Distantly, he can hear his blood dripping against the floor, can feel it soaking into his socks. His head wobbles and barely catches the phone in time before it slips.

It’s almost peaceful, he thinks.

“Ben was shot,” Peter says dizzily. “‘S how he died.”

Tony’s breaths are short and laboured in Peter’s ear. “Peter Benjamin Parker-”

“‘M not scared anymore.”

“I’m two minutes out. Stay awake. God please stay awake!”

Peter hums, and despite the clear instruction, feels his eyelids flutter. He wishes he could see Tony’s face once more, to tell him in person what he means to him, but the idea floats away from him like smoke.

“T-tony?”

“Yeah kid?”

“I-I-” but there’s no conclusion, no final words. With a sickening twist of vertigo, Peter feels the phone slide from its secure spot in the crook of his neck. It hits the cement, splashing up hot blood, and lays on its side. Peter watches it in detached surprise, feeling the last of his resolve crumbling.

Goodbye.

If Tony is still speaking through the device, Peter can no longer hear it, his senses muted and dull. He remembers how Ben’s eyes had looked right before he died, wonders if it’s how he looks now.

It’s his last thought before the darkness takes him.

---

Peter wakes up in someone’s arms.

At first, he thinks he’s reunited with his Uncle. Wherever he is, he’s safe and warm. He doesn’t feel any pain. In fact, he doesn’t feel anything at all, his existence a dramatic blur.

“Peter?”

He must’ve moved. The person holding him shifts to acknowledge his wakefulness, the voice soft and hopeful.

It’s not Ben, Peter realizes with some disappointment, though someone similar. Someone safe.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, buddy. You’re okay now.”

He must be crying, because he feels calloused fingers wipe away moisture from his cheeks.

It clicks.

“Tony?”

“Oh thank God.”

Yep, it’s Tony.

Peter smiles, understanding.

He can sleep peacefully now.

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