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insomniamamma · 8 months

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Gravity: Ezra x f!reader

A/n: Written for my year of kisses. @yearofcreation2023 The prompt is a kiss on the eyelids, and I originally intended to write it for Boba Fett (which I may still do) but then I rewatched Prospect and gave myself the yearns. Title inspired by this song. This jumps around in time.

Warnings: Much flirting and fluff. Reader has unspecified medical condition that keeps her from going to space. Ezra needs his own warning. Medical treatment. References to sickness and medical procedures. References to sex but nothing explicit.

Ezra hums contentedly beneath your hands. Shirtless and tilted backwards over the deep sink, towel draped around his sun-freckled shoulders. He positively purrs as you smooth the conditioner through his curls, scratching lightly over his scalp, tugging, but just a little. Real shampoo and conditioner are an imported nicety, expensive and not often used. Seems a shame to so thoroughly clean his hair only to shear so much of it off.

Long hair is a pain in the ass when you’re doing suit work, a pain in the ass in microgravity. You can tie it back but if it comes lose, you have random threads sweat-plastered to your face or tickling your nose or nape or eyebrow without being able to fix it. You don’t know this from your own experience. Born sickly, you could not follow your brothers off world, never as strong as them, failed the g-tests and the orientation tests and the flight instructor took you aside, look, you get the right combo of meds and cautery and you might be able to work a tug or a yard-switcher up to the Bench, but you’re not gonna get out of this well.

So you stayed. Da long gone, died way out towards the end of the Great Arm. And your brothers faded out of your life one by one by one. Once in a while you’d get packet drops, grainy vids squirted between can-haulers and freighters, a game of telephone that stretched the length of the Great Arm, but those became less and less. Even after contact waned, the points would still accrue in the family account, remittance from Kevva knows where. Until they didn’t. Faded out of your lives like comets flaring bright before slinging out into the black. You stayed behind and made due.

Learned the herbalist’s trade from your Ma who learned it from her Ma as far back as your first kin who colonized here, who built the house you live in now, who planted the gardens that provide food and medicines. Leaves and flowers and roots all diagrammed out, with their varied dangers and uses recipes for salves and tinctures and dyes, soaps, meticulously drawn and copied out from Ma’s book into one that you stitched and bound yourself. A right of passage of sorts, preserve what’s come before and add your own knowledge. The last few entries of your Ma’s book near illegible, from when the Wandering Sickness took her ability to write, a hash of Central glyph-speak and her own short-hand.

Ma had been gone for about a year when you met Ezra, or rather, when someone in town took pity on Ezra and sent him to your door. He was naked from the waist up skin blotched in swollen, crimson wheals. You shake your head. Off-worlders never learn. “I must apologize for my state of disarray,” he says, “The rubbing of my shirt seams became unbearable on my walk from town. I seem to have an allergy to the local flora.” He speaks a lilting off-world accent. One eye is red and puffed into a narrow slit, looks like he’s winking at you. “Humbleweed,” you say, “Looks like you rolled in the stuff. Come on in, spacer, lets get you fixed up.” “It’s called humbleweed because it puts people fool enough to touch it in their place?” “That’s right,” you say, leading him inside, “Wanna tell me how you got coated in it?” “Me and my crewmates are camped out along yonder lake. We were passing around a bottle of firewater and got to tussling. Not unfriendly like, but I took a bad step into some bushes. Didn’t think much of it at the time—“ “Please tell me none of you were stupid enough to throw any of that mess in a campfire.” “No, Ma’am, there was bone dry drift wood a-plenty.” “Good because the smoke would make your lungs do the same thing that’s happening with your skin, and we’d be calling for a dropper.” “That sounds most unpleasant,” he says, and you gesture towards the large, hammered metal tub. “Strip,” you say, “And hop in.” You say, fetching a rusty metal canister and a scrub brush from the shelf. You pull on some disposable gloves. An imported nicety, but you don’t want humbleweed resin getting under your own nails. “Ezra.” “What?” “My name is Ezra, and I’d like to know yours before you see my nether regions.” You laugh. This big, swaggering spacer with his odd, archaic way of speaking is shy. Damned if you don’t see his ears and cheeks going red. You tell him your name and rest a gloved hand on his upper arm. “You’ve got nothing I haven’t seen, okay? Unless they build men different further down the Arm. Give me your clothes. We’ll need to treat and wash them too.” Ezra reluctantly peels down. The worst of the rash is on his upper half, but there’s a particularly nasty line of welts around his waist, snaking down along the soft swell of his belly, telltale lines where he scratched at it in his sleep, got the sap under his nails and dragged it around, unthinking. He stands stone still while you run your gloved hands over him, checking places he wouldn’t think to check himself, armpits and the soles of his feet and juncture of hip and thigh, squirms under your touch. “I’m sorry—“ he says, red faced— “No need,” you say, “I once treated a man who was fool enough to wipe his ass with the leaves. He waited until it all blistered up to get help—“ You push the metal canister and scrub brush into his hands. “You sluice this over the red patches and scrub, clear? It’ll sting some—“ “This smells like engine degreaser.” “It is engine degreaser,” you say, “But it’ll do the job. Let me get your face though. Don’t want you getting this in your eyes. Get what you can reach and I’ll take care of your clothes, yeah?” His clothing goes in the deep sink, warm water and a generous pour of degreaser. You can’t help but look at him, his back to you, all broad freckled shoulders and red, puckered scars, tells of a spacer’s life, trying to reach over the curve of his own spine with the scrub brush. “Miss? Ma’am? I can’t quite—“ You find yourself smiling, take the scrub brush and canister from him, pour a cold rill down his spine and scrub, and he shudders. “Stings.” “I know.”

He flinches when you bring the degreaser soaked cloth to his face, draws back, his eye a puffed red slit leaking tears, his hands circle your wrists, stilling you. “Ezra. You need to let me do this.” “Perhaps this can wait for the Bench, this may be beyond what you can do here, not saying that I mistrust your skills or judgement but—“ “Look up. You see that bundle of Kind Sister? The star shaped flowers?” “Yes, but I don’t- “Look up and hold still. You keep your eyes right there.” You wipe the degreaser over the puffed skin below his eye, and you can feel the tension in him, thrumming beneath his skin. “Breathe, handsome, I’ve done this many times.” “It’s not that I don’t trust—“ “Just keep looking up.” “Burns a little.” “It will.” You dab the cloth over his skin, right up to the fringe of his lashes. “Close.” “I don’t think—“ “Don’t need you to think. Close your eyes.” He feels the chill on his eyelids and flinches away. “Sssshhhhh. Hold still. Not gonna hurt you.” He stills and lets you wipe his eyes with the degreaser, and you can’t help but admire the way his dark lashes fall against his cheeks.

“You’re unsettled.” “Maybe I don’t want to shear off these pretty curls.” You thread your fingers through his hair and raise the scissors to start cutting, but his hand curves around your wrist. “You’ve not been this unsettled before,” says Ezra, “Talk to me Gentle, tell me what’s bothering you.” And you can’t help but smile, his nickname for you always manages to make your chest tighten, someplace between swelling love and crippling fear, presses his lips to the soft skin of your wrist where the veins rest so close. “You’re going so far this time, and you know I can’t go after you if things go wrong—“ “The risk is greater, but the reward is….” he trails off, fingers tracing the landscape of your knuckles. Ezra has words for everything, three words when one will do, and to hear him go silent, to see him search for words feels wrong, like you’re witnessing something you shouldn’t. He draws inward for a beat and then those dark eyes find yours. “The reward is such that I could stop my rambling ways. If we find what we suspect is there.” “You’re saying you’ll stay.” “I am.” The shiny scissors in your hand tremble, sending little arcs of light across the rough hewn walls. “You’ll come down the well. For keeps.” “For keeps, Gentle Hands. My heart already resides here. I finish this job? You’ll have all of me. For as long as you can put up with my nonsense.” Your hands still. Dread replaced by spreading warmth. You smile. “You’d be surprised at how much of your nonsense I can tolerate.”

“Oh, Kevva,” Ezra sighs and sags against you, “You are surely one of Her kind sisters. She has given you the touch, the blessing—“ You lightly slap his cheek with a gloved hand. “Don’t you go boneless on me, handsome.” You’ve been liberally coating the red wheals and rising blisters with a salve of kind sister, sersath and bird-eye berry. This salve counters the miserable itch of humbleweed, and triggers a kind of euphoric sedation in maybe one in five people you’ve treated. “You’re having a strong reaction. It’s not dangerous. Kevva’s just smiling on you. That’s all. You’ll feel right as rain in about a sixteenth. Hey! You go limp and I will not heave your ass off this floor.” “I will gladly spend the rest of my days gazing up in admiration.” “Hmmmm. Might hold you to that, pretty spacer.” “Would give my life into your gentle hands,” “Okay. Okay, let’s get you settled,” You steer Ezra naked and greasy towards a fresh-sheeted cot you keep against one wall, just in case. He’s not the first stray to rest there a spell and surely won’t be the last. He stretches himself out like a cat lounging in a sunbeam, yawning hugely, even covered in angry red wheals and pinkish goo he’s quite the sight. Pretty man, you think, too bad I’ll probably never see him again. “y’can look all you want, Gentle Hands,” he mumbles, and you feel your face go hot, “I don’t- I don’t mind.” “Here,” you say, pulling the top sheet up to his chest, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean--“ His hand finds yours, warm and enfolding. “Gentle Hands,” he says, but his eyes are already closed, his holding hand already letting go, dropping away from yours, arm dangling stiffly off the edge of the cot, “Kind heart.” And you know it’s the salve, maybe you’ve got the proportions wrong, the strength of the bird-eye berry varies depending on where it’s picked. Have to pay more attention next time, or maybe this pretty spacer just reacts stronger than most for a whole slew of reasons that have nothing to do with you. Ezra snores. You smile and lay his hand over his chest so his arm doesn’t fall asleep. And then go to fetch his clothes from the deep sink so you can rinse them out.

You thread your fingers through his hair and cut like you’ve done many times before. Always makes you a little sad, seeing the curls he’s grown in his time with you piled on the floor in front of the deep sink. Ezra luxuriates under your touch, relishes the feel of your hands carding through his curls, tugging, measuring with the width of your fingers, ruffling his hair this way and that, making sure things are even. You’ve done this for your brothers and now you do it for your lover. Brush the stray bits of hair from his shoulders, letting your hands wander the breadth of him, tuck yourself into the join of his shoulder and neck and his arms come up around you, cradling you against him, the two of you swaying together. I’ll be back before you know it.

Ezra finds you in the front garden says your name and snaps you out of your reverie, the muscle-memory motions of removing errant weeds and dead leaves. You stand and wipe the dirt on your pants and turn to look at him, feel yourself grin. He’s wrapped the top sheet around himself like a toga, shuffles along the walk like a newborn calf, a bit unsteady and blinking in the bright sunlight. The swelling around his eye has already gone down significantly. “Ezra. How you feeling?” “A little tingly,” he says, “A little foggy headed, truth be told, I don’t recall dozing off. I hope I haven’t inconvenienced you-“ “You haven’t,” you walk the narrow path through the herb beds to where his clothes hang on the line. You frown. “Still damp. Come on. I think I’ve got something that might fit you. Don’t want to send you back into town with a wet ass.” You move to herd him back into the house, but he stops you, his hand curled gently around your wrist. “I, uh, I worry that I may have said something untoward,” says Ezra, “My mouth has a tendency to run along on it’s own and Kevva knows I have not experienced such gentle care in a whole heap of stand-months--“ “You flirted with me a little,” you say and feel yourself smile, he drops your wrist but you catch his hand in yours before he can pull away, “But I flirted right back.” “Did you now?” “Mmm-hmm.”

Ezra kisses you in that slow way of his, soft press of his lips to yours, his way of lingering, lips hovering over yours sharing breath between kisses, soft pecks and nuzzles, coaxing your lips apart so he can dip his tongue between them, his hands sliding warm beneath the hem of your shirt and when he breaks away so he can dip his face into the curve of your neck to nip at that tender place below your ear, you push him back, a firm hand on his chest. “No.” His brow knits, but his eyes are smiling. “No?” “Go shower off, Ezra. I don’t want all those little stray hairs in my nice clean sheets.” “Those sheets won’t be clean for long, Gentle Hands,” “Doesn’t mean I want to be all scratchy while we’re making a mess of them. Go on now.”

“This isn’t right,” you say, poking at the screen of your much repaired data-pad, “This is far more than what we agreed on.” “You’ve taken very good care of me,” says Ezra. He’s dressed in clothes your middle brother left behind, his own folded into a bundle and tucked under his arm. You reject the transaction. “I take very good care of everyone, Ezra, it’s my job.” “Still I spent a quarter cycle snoring away in your great room,” he says, “I expect most others would have roused me and sent me down the road. I wish to repay you for your kindness.” “I don’t need payment for that. Not with points anyway.” Ezra smirks, and cocks an eyebrow. “You got some other currency in mind?” “Maybe. You’re not boosting tonight are you?” “No,” he says, “We’re hopping the Magra-Tripoint line. Don’t need to hit the bench for three cycles and a little. You got something in mind, Gentle Hands?” You feel blood rise in your cheeks, something about his newly minted name for the you and the way he says it, lilt and rumble of his voice holding something that could be want, something that pulls on you, maybe a cycle or so of fun with a pretty man, but maybe something more. “There’s live music in the square tonight,” you say, “They usually start up around dusk--“ and you feel suddenly shy. Ezra’s a spacer, he’s been places you probably can’t imagine. “It’s not that weird twitchy shit coming out of Central these days is it?” You laugh. “No, nothing like that. What do you say? Take a girl dancing?” “I would be honored,” says Ezra, “But I’ll have you know that I am a terrible dancer.” “The steps are easy. I’ll show you.” “I look forward to it,” he says, “I’ll meet you in the square at sun-down.”

You have to go into town anyway. You sell your wares at the general store. Balms and salves and tinctures and teas, bird-eye berry gel for teething babies, kind sister and chamomile for sleepless nights. Callie takes her cut, but that’s the price of not having to man your own shop. Everyone in town knows to send the severe cases your way, and otherwise leave you be. There are always a few special orders, things not entirely above board, a powder made of bloodspot spores that will end a pregnancy, opium and bird eye berry dried and made into a tea that can ease someone’s passing with few questions. Giggle-weed infused syrup to help a man get hard, everything passed out in folded envelopes, dark glass jars,blank and innocuous. You do your rounds and make your way to the square, watch the first band set up. A cello imported from Kevva knows where, goatskin drums, a flute carved from a reaper-bird’s hind strut. Rough made guitars. You scan around the square and see the usual faces. There’s a couple of nightclubs closer to the docks, places where the spacers go and you imagine him there. Little prickling like a thorn inside your chest. Never going to see him again anyway so what does it matter?

“Well, there you are!” You turn from the pint of cider you’ve been nursing and smile. “Ezra! Wasn’t sure I’d see you!!” You stand and he pulls you into a strong embrace, and then holds you at arms length. “Wasn’t sure I’d see you either,” he says, “Pretty lady who soothed my hurts and listened to my yap and saw my pale and unimpressive ass? I’m surprised you didn’t run for the hills.” “I knew you’d be pretty once the swelling went down.” “You clean up nice, too.” You wonder for a second if he’s making fun, traded your usual workday clothes for your favorite dress, not fancy by off-world standards, river-linen dyed summer sky blue, but there’s no judgement in his eyes and widening smile, just warmth, slides his palms down your arms and squeezes your hands in his. The band plays and the caller names the steps, and people swing their partners and turn and Ezra’s face tightens. “This looks unduly complicated,” “Let’s get some cider in you. It won’t seem so complicated then.” “If you say so, Gentle Hands.” “I do say so. Just watch for a bit and then let me lead.”

Despite your best efforts, Ezra is truly a terrible dancer, the reels and jigs and square dances see him dazed, unable to tell his right from his left and after one particularly disastrous dance the two of you collapse into each other, laughing, clinging to each other and then the band starts a slow one, which means that the caller picks at his guitar and sings a song of lost love while the rest of the band hit the bar and give everyone else a chance to catch their breath. A handful of couples make their way to the floor, and Ezra holds his hand out to you. “This is a dance I know, if you’d do me the honor.”

You expect you’ll never see him again. You’ve come to regard the spacers you meet as spring-sprites, all sun glittered wings, pulling themselves out of the mud only to live a hand of cycles and then vanish. He’ll persist in your thoughts for a bit, this pretty man with his odd way of speaking and his lovely dark eyes, but once he leaves the well he’ll fade like they all do, become a tender memory and nothing more, but for now you ache pleasantly from his attentions. The dock is swarmed with clotted crews of spacers, stacks of luggage, piles of gear waiting to be loaded, low hiss of regulator-valves triggering along the snake-work of cable leading from the tanks to the transfer ship, a squat soot-stained wedge, plated in dingy heat-tiles like a fish’s scales. You suspect this craft is older than you. “This isn’t goodbye, you know,” says Ezra, and your heart squeezes. You’ve heard this before. A delirious hand of cycles, but they always go and they never come back and most times you are able to guard your heart, but not this time, not with him, and your usual glib response doesn’t come. “Ezra, I—we—it’s not?“ He reaches for you and cradles your face in his warm, rough hands, and you expect to feel his lips on yours, his mouth hungry and fever hot, but instead he stretches up and kisses your forehead, and something inside you tugs, pulls, cries out at this unexpected tenderness, tears sting your eyes so you close them, as his breath fans warm over your skin. Ezra kisses your closed eyes, right then left and then rests his forehead against yours. “I’ll see you again, Gentle Hands,” he says and pulls you into a crushing hug, and then the deck hand calls out a string of numbers over an intercom, balky speakers strung up on wooden poles all around the port and he’s gone into the surging crowd.

Ezra sings in the shower. He always does and Kevva have mercy that man can’t carry a tune in a bucket. Sweep his damp, shorn curls into a little pile to be scooped up and sprinkled into the garden beds, human scent revolting to the local fauna, but then it screams up at you, a little curl of starlight among the tangled dark, little twist of white hair cut from his temple that you so like to twine your fingers through, now discarded. You bend and pick the damp curl of hair from the floor and roll it between your fingers. You move almost without thinking, tuck that little curl into an envelope you usually use for dry herb blends, fold it closed and hold it in your hands a beat, press it to your chest, and then laugh at yourself. Ezra will come back.

He always comes back.

#prospect #ezra x f!reader #ezra prospect x f!reader #ezra (prospect) x f!reader #year of kisses #year of themes 2023

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ddarker-dreams · 2 years

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Fire & Brimstone. Yan Alucard x F Reader

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, religious themes (specifically relating to Judeo-Christianity), blasphemy, some not SFW implications. Word count: 2k.

You are an instrument of the divine.

However, unlike the shortsighted design of the mortals, you are not limited to any one role. In the Divine Father wills it, you shall sing hymnals in the balcony, sound the drums of the percussion, breathe new life into the woodwinds and brass, and caress or shred the strings according to His tempo. You made good on every order you were charged with, whether it be delivering messages in dreams or wielding a flaming sword so that fallen mankind could not reengage paradise.

This was your testimony, the crowning jewel of existing before the earth itself was formed.

You thought you had done well as a good and faithful servant — brought glory to the one most high.

So why is it when you need Him most, your director has left the stage, leaving you without a baton to follow?

“I see you haven’t bothered messing with your bind’s enchantments in some time,” a baritone voice notes. He has been here longer than he’s seen fit to speak, you know this well, the tangible miasma of malignity permeating the air. The reprobate continues, unbidden as always, “I told you long ago that it’d be no use, didn’t I? If only you had believed me then, you could’ve saved yourself the trouble. Deceit isn’t in my nature.”

He who dwells in the dark encroaches on you from numerous angles, having not yet taken a physical form. Tickling your sides, breathing on the back of your neck, applying the slightest pressure to your chest. Your eyes aren’t blindfolded but they might as well be. He won’t let you see him until he decides it’d humor him. So you’re left unsure of where to look, or glare, to be more accurate; instead alternating your attention between the areas his voice resonates the most.

You lift your head from its resting position to respond. “Should I count you among the saints for this redeeming quality of yours?”

“I’d prefer you didn’t. Their sins might just eclipse mine, especially those of Roman Catholic inclination.”

It wasn’t the audacity of his words or even the blasphemy that stirred you to malady, but the sheer nonchalance that grates your insides like you swallowed barbed wire. He speaks not just to get a rise from you, but to show each unique angle of his depravity, the geometry of which astounds its viewer. Saying these things meant nothing to him. It neither vindicated him nor brought him closer to any goal. No, it is a hedonistic taunt unlike what even the demons would partake in. For they had, twisted as it may be, a vision in their minds to achieve, an apex to reach. Hence their conniving ways.

Not him — Vlad the Impaler, Alucard, Dracula. This isn’t a battle, but the victory feast that follows a successful conquest. He has what he wants.

For he has you.

An angel whose wings, though intact, may not fly; upward and away to the welkin above that is your rightful dwelling place.

There’s a shift in the air. Freezing temperatures bite at your exposed skin and pressure comparable to that which humans experience deep underwater weighs down on you, yet you have no way to defend yourself. The second you draw forth from the well of your innate abilities, it’s absorbed by esoteric runes scrawled alongside the dimension he holds you captive in, the now shining glyphs hungrily lapping up your power.

The runes revert to a dull outline when you give up, feeling drained and utterly vulnerable.

When you gather the strength to reopen your eyes, regret overwhelms you, yet you cannot find the strength to look away.

Alucard sits mere feet away from you on a throne befitting his bottomless avarice. Golden embellishments twist and turn alongside it in elaborate carvings, reminiscent of the era in which he ruled, its cushions deep velvet and plush. His hair is long strands of black, darker than the night sky when no stars are visible. The longer you look, the more convinced you feel that the ends slightly move, as if in a hypnotizing dance. His pallid complexion suits his supernatural inclination, not the slightest flush of life dusting his cheeks. This is compensated for by his billowing frock coat, which boasts a deep crimson hue whose shade is only challenged by the glow of his unblinking eyes.

He drums his long fingers alongside the throne’s arm while resting his chin on his fist. When he speaks, his voice deep enough for shivers to envelop your body, you note the pointedness of his teeth.

“Your thoughts still persist of nothing but a God who has forgotten you, cast you aside for a salivating beast such as myself to do with as I please. Does this not challenge your faith? Are you a fool blinded by ignorance, or a willing victim who’d rather ignore the truth than risk facing reality?”

“My God has not forgotten about me,” is your firm retaliation.

Alucard smiles without a hint of kindness.

“No, he remembers, yet here we are, your prayers unanswered and your cheeks wet by the constant flow of tears. Would you not say that’s worse? For him to know of your suffering and still not come to your aid?”

The chains securing you in place rattle as you fight against them, incensed by his remarks. Instead of surrendering the second you feel too much vitality leave your body, you persist, searing hot pain greeting you in abundance. The pain grows like a crescendo that’s doomed to never reach its peak. Overexertion has you sweating blood, still, you do not stop, his despicable physiognomy spurring you on.

Eventually, he shakes his head and sighs. The pentagram etched into his glove gleams an otherworldly color. With this, he seals your power in its entirety, putting a premature end to your fruitless retaliation. There’s no more energy for you to wring out of yourself. For whatever reason, he allowed you the small dignity of maintaining your divine expression, perhaps to further cement the insurmountable gap in your abilities.

“What is it with pious folk and their obsession with self-induced pain?” He wonders. “You’re no better than the flagellants of old.”

“Did you come here for the sole purpose of mocking me? Is that how you derive your pleasure these days, Count?”

“In part. You must believe me when I say this isn’t my ultimate design, sweet Seraph. It is you who draws this out, prideful thing that you are.”

The jab at your supposed pride is ignored in favor of understanding his more wicked statement. His point about never having technically lied to you stands true, loath as you are to admit it, though that doesn’t mean he won’t start now. Sick premonitions flood your mind. Is there worse damnation awaiting you? Was this but an appetizer of the anguish to come?

“Oh? Does this frighten you, little dove? You’re trembling.”

He’s right. The chains shake in a shrill cacophony, just for a different reason than before.

In the blink of an eye, he is before you, his towering height causing a shadow to eclipse your shivering form. The smooth fabric of his gloved fingers caresses your skin. He lifts your chin upward, forcing you to meet his gaze. Those eyes that have witnessed untold bloodshed swirl with indiscernible emotions. The air in your lungs matters little. Despite its presence, you think you might be drowning.

“Or could it be… that it is I who frightens you so?”

Who wouldn’t be, when the devil himself locked the doors of hell to bar this creature’s entry?

“... Unhand me at once, you have no right to touch my person,” the weak glare you send his way earns nothing but amusement. The squeaking mouse caught inside the lion’s claws lacks the backing to make such bold demands.

“It is a new millennium that we live in, [First]. Such archaic systems are no longer in place,” a tongue too long to be normal wets his lips. Every muscle in your body goes rigid as if you were entering rigor mortis upon sensing his caprice. “I jest, dear, I jest. I have prolonged ravishing you for this long. What are a few centuries more?”

His pointer finger plays with your bottom lip. “I wonder if you could withstand such a lengthy imprisonment. In this form, you’d feel each second drag by, occupied by your thoughts and nothing else. There would be no reprieve, not a singular instance of relief. I’d go so far as to say you’ll look forward to entertaining my company, since it’s the only company you’ll have.”

Give not into temptation. Do not ask what you must do to be freed from this purgatory. He won’t tell you unless you make the query. He wants you to ask. To lower yourself to his level so he may satisfy himself with your humiliation. Temptation is the most blistering when you know that, no matter how hard you try to convince yourself, there are two paths that you could take. You want to convince yourself that there is no other choice. His assessment of calling you a willing victim to ignorance would ring true should you try.

“To avoid this…” there is only a single set of eyes staring at you, but you feel as if there are thousands, “What must I do?”

Alucard’s subsequent face-splitting grin is every bit as grotesque as you feared it would be. His chest rumbles, laughter erupting from his form. There’s nothing that you can do but take it. This embarrassment is uniquely painful, since you brought it on yourself.

“I thought you’d never ask. Dear girl, remind me, what was the first thing your god said not to be good regarding his creation?”

The answer comes easy, even if you don’t fully understand where he’s going with this line of questioning.

“He said it was not good for man to be alone.”

He nods, content by your obedience. You try not to dwell on the fact.

“And how did he rectify that?”

“By giving him a wife—”

You cut yourself off, your eyes going wide enough to sting, harrowing realization settling in. “Surely… you couldn’t possibly mean to…!”

This is unheard of. A desecration so profound that history itself had never encountered anything like it.

“Take you as my bride? Yes, that has been my intention from the beginning, I plucked you from the sky for that very reason. Cruelty may be all you’ve ever known from me, but I am perfectly capable of benevolence. Bind yourself to me for eternity. Worship me and I will worship you in return. Is this not a more pleasing arrangement than your previous affiliation? You worked so hard for a master who has forsaken you.”

“He hasn’t… no, he wouldn’t…”

Physical ailment and internal malaise plagues you. There is no cure, no antidote to soothe the insults you’ve suffered by his unrelenting verbal assault.

“What makes you so convinced? Did he not grant Mephistopheles permission to torment Faust in the same way I’m tormenting you?”

“It was a trial — yes, a trial — to prove man can overcome evil. You are twisting things! Forcing them to align to further your goals! Do not turn your back on me, you fiend, I will interpret it as you admitting defeat.”

Alucard takes his time getting comfortable in his throne, which is now a few measly feet away. He reclines while you continue verbally admonishing him. It’s not until you’re huffing for breath that he sees fit to dignify you with a response.

“Man might be able to overcome evil, on rare occasions,” he acknowledges. You think you may be gaining ground in this everlasting battle between wits. This has to be your reward for staying strong for so long, refusing to bend your ideals no matter how much easier it’d be to give in. A mustard seed that might yet flourish should you continue nourishing it.

He leans forward, that deplorable grin from earlier making its unwelcome return.

“But can you?”

#vampire x reader #yandere vampire x reader #alucard x reader #yandere alucard x reader #hellsing x reader #hellsing ultimate x reader #yandere hellsing ultimate x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #not sfw #my stuff

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ticklishbeans4 · 10 months

Note

Just stumbled across this, and absolutely loving it! Would you be interested in writing Amity gently tickling Luz before bed, something cute and sappy, gentle and sensual rather than cackling and roughhousing?

I gotchu anon

Curse her amazing girlfriend. Curse her for knowing her so darn well. This was unfair and she knew it! “Just relax batata.” Amity murmured, acting as the big spoon in Luz’s bed, fingers gently tracing up and down Luz’s belly.

Luz giggled softly, blushing in the dark as she felt herself relaxing under the touch. She’d never asked for this, but she’d definitely needed it. Being back in the human was… conflicting, and Luz was dealing with a lot, mostly guilt these days. It was hard to sleep with so many thoughts racing through her mind.

What could she have done differently? Why did she teach Philip the light glyph? Should she have let the stone sleeper eat him? Ugh no, that was too dark, but still…

“I can hear you thinking from her, do I need to tickle you worse?” Amity teased, wiggling a finger into Luz’s belly button, making the dark haired teen squeak and curled up. “N-nohoho! Amity!” she giggled, relaxing as the gentle relaxing tickles resumed.

It really was hard to think when she was being tickled, even gentle tickles like this made her brain all mushy. Especially especially when they were from Amity. Sure her mom knew all her weak points to turn her into a squealing ball of jelly, Willow and Gus were a terrifying duo, Vee was a literal tickle monster, and Hunter was shockingly formidable in a tickle fight, but Amity? Amity knew just what buttons to push to make Luz absolutely melt, and with how gently and teasy she was, Luz didn’t stand a chance.

This routine had come into play recently, Luz’s nightmares had been getting worse, so Amity would cuddle her to sleep. And when that stopped working, she’d added the tickling. Apparently it’s something Amity’s dad had done when she was little.

“I’m here, I’ve got you.” Amity murmured, pressing a warm kiss to the back of Luz’s neck, which sent a pleasant tingle down Luz’s spine. It was relaxing, unfairly so, and she felt so warm… safe even… Amity smiled as Luz’s eyes finally closed, and her breathing evened out. She cuddled her girlfriend close, nuzzling her hair. She’d tickle her to sleep every night if she had to, or even if she didn’t. Her girlfriend needed the sleep, maybe it would help her feel a bit better… or at least better enough to talk about what was really bothering her.

One can only hope though. “Good night batata. I love you.”

#tickles #tickling #tickle #toh tickles #toh tickle #luz noceda #amity blight #lumity

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ladysunamireads · 1 month

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#AO3 Link #FanFiction #AO3 Lumity #♥#Lumity #Eda Clawthorne #OwlHouse #⚢#✨#R:G #Fluff #A:Thebest Medicine

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lampmanliveblogs · 8 months

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…sigh. Alright, what is this ship called? Veesha? Vasha? Mee? Mashee?

(trying to get a screenshot where Masha’s hand didn’t look super awkward in the foreground never needed to be this difficult)

And hey, just saying, I get the feeling that Masha, if anything, would be even more interested in you if they knew you were a shapeshifting snake girl from another dimension Vee. Just saying.

Masha figures out that the symbols is supposed to be a rebus with images substituting words. The thing I thought was a soundwave in front of the ear was an H, spelling out ”hear” (or possibly ”here”).

Based on this revelation, the witchlings (as soon as Masha conveniently leaves the frame and thus can’t hear what they’re talking about) figure out that the bottom three symbols spell out ”Titan’s blood.” Which is what I guessed this map was leading them to all along, so that’s not a huge revelation for me.

But let’s go back to the top half of the rebus. Eye Hear. Which can spell out a few things. I hear. I here. Eye here.

Looking at the map again, I notice that the red line seems to go from the Eye symbol to the X that marks the spot, which makes me suspect that might have something to do with things. Maybe there’s some eye symbol they need to look for where the titan’s blood is hidden. The portal door has an eye on it, so saying ”Eye here” and then marking the spot makes sense… kinda. I dunno, maybe it’s only in my head.

Otherwise I’m not sure what it’s supposed to mean yet. I hear… hear what?

You know I gotta screenshot some cute stuff.

Let’s see… we’ve got the kids watching a movie and… I think that might be a reference to Hocus Pocus? No wonder Willow and Amity both aren’t looking too impressed. Whatever you do, no one read these girls Roald Dahl’s The Witches.

It also looks like Luz honored Eda’s wishes and went on a beach episode together with Amity. It’s must’ve been an experience, swimming in a non-boiling sea for the first time.

We also have the river rapids, with Luz looking ecstatic, Amity, Vee & Gus being in various stages of panic, and Hunter stoically to the side. Can’t tell if he’s nervous but doesn’t want to show it, or if he’s just kinda unimpressed.

I am confident in saying he’s definitely panicking as he’s being attacked by a swarm of bees, as would most people. What did you even do to piss them off, Hunter? Oh, and it’s a nice detail that the flowers Willow is tending to in the picture is the same kind as she has taped in the photo album.

I see my snake daughter thriving and I’m loving it.

I feel like the fireflies might be a call-back to the lightning bugs Luz used to charge her phone back during season two.

I’m gonna pretend that the leaf taped in the album is the same leaf that Vee used to tickle Willow’s nose in the picture, even though it clearly isn’t.

Amity continues to be this episodes punching bag as we see her struggling to make perfect circles during glyph training and getting flustered when Willow photographed her and Luz sharing a milkshake.

Nice bit of continuity: that vase Gus is juggling with is the same vase we saw Camila use in Reaching Out. An even nicer bit of continuity is that there’s a different flower in the vase than the one Camila put there in Reaching Out. Since that was a few months ago and most flowers don’t last that long in vases. Unless they’re lego flowers, like all the ones I have.

#the owl house #liveblog #the owl house liveblog #toh s3e1 #thanks to them

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askbiggreen · 8 months

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First Squad Differences From Canon

(CW: trauma and PTSD mention)

Lin Chung

-autistic (though that might as well be canon)

-PTSD (this takes place after Twin Master’s defeat, and he’s gotten help)

-Bi (no specific preference)

-Part melanistic leopard (long story but it has to do with his ancestor Lin Chong)

-Married to Mighty Ray (rupphire, lumity, roger and Jessica rabbit dynamic)

-Canonically 6’5 (husband is 5’1 lol)

-learns some new abilities related to his kitty side, better air control, “lightning” eyes, slight plant manipulation using harmonic energy, temp floating

Mighty Ray

-ADHD

-ftm bi (with male preference)

-has a lot of hidden insecurities that he’s gotten both professional help and encouragement from hubby for

-can manipulate fire and electricity through his body (mainly his fists) and has learned to harness the harmonic energy

-has been friends with Kowloon and Alpha Girl since they were kids (their dynamic is kinda like amity with her siblings since he’s the youngest, he’s their little cringe idiot)

Mystique Sonia

-ADHD

-bi (male preference)

-married to Mano

-has trauma from her home life that she’s been working through

-from a rich family that ended up investing in this world’s version of crypto island, where Sonia and her four sisters grew up

-still loves yaksha (who is one body that shares two souls), who accepted Mano while also making sure the guy knew that Yaksha would fuck him up if he broke Sonia’s heart

Jumpy Ghostface

-joined Big Green when he was 15 (didn’t tell the others at first and by the time he did it was too late)

-baby who also wants to be taken seriously

-autism + ADHD

-ace het

-gains access to transformation candies that allow him to turn into others but not use their abilities

Mr. No Hands/Li Shen

-oldest of the team

-family friend of Ray’s family

-doesn’t have the tickle curse, it’s been replaced by a choking curse

-PTSD from previous war experiences, which is when he got his curse

-gains some earth, levitation, defense, and healing powers by using a book to activate them or with little slips of paper (think glyphs from The Owl House)

-Married to Lady Green (who’s around his age with a teenage daughter from a previous relationship)

#hero 108

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marisramblings · 1 year

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Coming Home (vague Witch Hat Atelier spoilers)

Beldaruit x gender neutral witch!reader cw: fluff, age gap (reader is around mid 20s)

You stretch and take in the bustle of the city around you. Being back in the great hall isn’t your preferred choice but it beats sleeping on straw mats. Also helps that your favorite person is here. You purchase a meat bun from a nearby vendor and heft your travel pack over your shoulder.

The garden is empty when you step in, as expected. You say hello to your favorite trees and breathe in the salty air. An adventurous homebody is a strange combination, but what are you if not made of contradictions?

You make your way through the special door hidden within the silverwood trees. Twists and turns take you to familiar doors and you hesitate. A stop at the bathhouse might have been better but you so desperately want to collapse on soft sheets and pillows.

You knock in a coded pattern and the doors open like arms welcoming you inside. You tiptoe around the room hoping to surprise its occupant but the bed is made and empty. There aren’t a lot of places a sealchair can hide here. The disappointment feels like a stone.

“Damn, I’ll have to wait—“

“Wait for what?”

You shriek and turn around. The great sage, Beldaruit, sits before you dressed in his full regalia. Pale blue eyes light up with mirth.

“You are such an insufferable person,” you sigh. “Is this even you or an apparition?”

“Oh foo, you’re as bad as Olruggio.” The visage fades into smoke, and the lights flicker on illuminating the real Beldaruit laying in bed.

You roll your eyes and take the seat by his side, divesting yourself of your shoes and cloak. “I’m sure you’ll find some way to really surprise me in the coming days.”

His eyes twinkle. “If you had returned earlier you would’ve seen quite a sight.”

“Hm?”

“Qifrey’s apprentices had their second test interrupted and I let them make it up. I wanted to be surprised.”

There are few situations that require the sage of wisdom’s input, he must’ve been quite excited. “Were you?”

His face lights up with a dazzling smile and he excitedly grasps your hands. “It was wonderful! They took such common spells and created such beauty. They even opened a path that my chair could fit through.”

His joy is infectious and you find yourself smiling. If children could figure out how to make the hall accessible what are their leaders’ excuses? If it wouldn’t be considered vandalism, you’d carve glyphs into every nook and cranny.

He bounces your hands. “Absolutely marvelous! It’s a treasure to see such passion in young children.”

Ah, he’s started. You deftly climb to the empty space beside him, sinking in the bedding. It’s not that you don’t love his passion but you’re a bit tired. He tells you about the spells, the rain and sunlight reflected through gate doors. The mimicry pouch and rainbows that shined.

He finishes with a pained breath. You bolt upright and grip his hand. “Belda—“

He squeezes back and smiles. “I’m fine, just a little tired from an excursion.”

“I’ll make you some tea.”

He pulls you to his chest and rests his cheek upon your head.

You pout but relax in his hold. Today isn’t the time for such a serious discussion.

“Some days I wonder what keeps you interested in an old fart like me.” He mumbles this into your hair and the vibrations tickles.

You run a few fingers through his hair, twirl a strand. “I’m pretty boring so I guess it works out.”

“You’re far from boring. I remember a certain incident involving dancing cleaning supplies.”

“You know how much I hate chores. Besides, don’t sell yourself short. You’re the most passionate person I know. The dedication and love you have for magic is inspiring.”

You lean up and kiss his cheek. The slight blush and widening of his eyes make you giggle.

“Compliments and kisses? You’re rarely this affectionate. Did something happen?”

You shrug. “No. I just really missed you. I’ll tell you about the stuff I saw—“ you yawn, “tomorrow.”

***

FYI I take requests. Reader imagines or between characters, many things go!

#mari’s rambles #witch hat atelier #witch hat atelier spoilers #witch hat atelier imagines #beldaruit #Beldaruit x reader #imagines #fic #no beta I wrote this to feel better

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helioyx · 1 year

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The Sorcerer & The Fae Prince (First Encounter)

Characters: Explorer, Magician, Thief

CW/TW: Implied neglectful and abusive parenting, Brief depressive episode

*Set in a Fantasy AU (one of many) whereby Kurt is the Fae Prince, offspring of the Fae King, whose reputation precedes him as a ruthless and cunning ruler. Despite this, Kurt is nothing like his father, showing an aptitude for kindness and compassion that is most unlike a Fae.

Naturally, this makes his relationship with his father tense, and he is locked within the boundaries of the kingdom for hundreds of years as the Fae King believes that he will ‘die out there in the real world.’ More likely than that is that he feels ashamed of his son’s ‘niceness’ as it is ill-fitting of a Fae. Therefore, he intends to keep him where he would not be seen by anyone beyond the castle walls.

That doesn’t stop Kurt from sneaking out, with the help of his reluctant friend Kreacher, who is a lesser Fae from the slums. Unfortunately, things don’t go as well as his storybooks, and he’s quickly caught red-handed when crossing into hostile territory—the sorcerer’s tower.

*This one’s a teeeensy bit long, y’all.

He couldn’t believe it—he was finally free!

The Fae Prince let out an unrestrained laugh as he twirled around with his arms outstretched.

“Oh, stars! I did it! I’m free!” He laughed when he bumped into the other Fae from all his excessive twirling, wrapping an arm around him so he could share the joy.

Unfortunately, it seemed that his companion was less than pleased.

Kreacher dragged a hand over his face, groaning lowly as he weakly shoved at Kurt’s arm. That did nothing to dampen the prince’s spirits however, as he simply cheered and hollered some more, spreading his joyous aura throughout the path, making the trees flower in a blink of an eye.

“Ohhh great deities above, I’m finally- I’m finally free...” He gave one last victorious shout with his fists raised to the sky, and finally settled down.

The Fae bandit rolled his eyes as the other calmed down, bending over to pant lightly with his hands over his knees. Of course he was winded—he’d never been out of the castle his entire life.

In retrospect, Kreacher could definitely feel sorry for him... but in his opinion, being confined to a home for eternity is better than not having one at all—speaking from experience.

The blooming petals had started to fall and tickle his nose. He scowled lightly at the colourful sight—the trees were flowering, and petals of every hue were raining down on them like a snowstorm.

It wasn’t typical Fae decorum. He himself would’ve preferred something... less bright. But then again, the prince had always been an oddball—an outsider in his own kingdom. Really, who could blame him for wanting to run away? Certainly not him.

Now if only he didn’t have to play babysitter... because Kreacher knew, the moment he relented to the prince’s pleads of helping him escape, that he would not last one second out there.

Well. Not without him at least.

“Oh, the trees here look beautiful!”

“Th-that’s because you made them so.”

“And the animals! Oh I’ve always wanted to pet a unicorn!”

“That’s... just a horse. With decorative headwear.”

“No, look at that! A horn! It’s a u-ni-corn.”

Kreacher grumbled to himself. “And I’m t-telling you, that’s—” Wait.

The bandit slowly came to a stop, brows furrowed as he took a good look at their surroundings.

Wait. This is—

He had been so distracted by the prince’s elation that he had completely forgotten to pay attention to the direction they were headed... and this was not where they were supposed to go.

“Kurt! Stop—” He realised too late that his self-proclaimed charge had wandered straight out of the frying pan and into the fire—for not a moment sooner had he called out, a hex glyph had revealed itself from beneath the prince’s shoe.

The Fae Prince froze in place as he slowly turned to look down, seeing the glyph light up beneath his feet, pulsing with energy. With magic.

“Kreacher...” He mumbled, voice wavering, “What... what is this?”

The bandit cursed as he quickly came to his side, crouching down so he could better examine the hostile magic. “Hex glyph,” he said simply. “Lift your foot and you’ll d-die.”

Kurt paled. “Die?!”

“Probably. Kreacher’s never s-stepped on one before, so he d-doesn’t know, really.”

Deities preserve him. “Stop joking around, Kreacher!” His voice had taken on a higher note, transforming into a shrill sound, and the bandit winced the slightest bit beside him. He would’ve laughed if only his life wasn’t at stake.

“I’m not!” Kreacher hissed back, shooting him a brief glare before turning back to the glyph on the ground.

“I know, I know—I’m sorry, I just- am I going to die?!” He probably sounded hysterical at this point, judging by the bandit’s concerned gaze.

“No, no... You’re not. Kreacher’s dealt with this before, okay? Breathe—” He didn’t get his last word out in time before an invisible force punched the air out of his lungs, throwing him back a few feet. He landed face-down, groaning into the dirt.

“Kreacher!” Kurt eyed the bandit worriedly, fearing for the worst... until he saw the shaky thumbs up he gave him. He sighed in relief, only to feel his heartbeat quicken again when an unknown force pinned his companion to the ground, rendering him unable to move.

“Ugh... Fuck, we’re too late,” he groaned, gritting his teeth as he lifted his head—the only body part he could move—looking past the prince.

The sound of footsteps approaching prompted Kurt to swivel his head around at breakneck speed, and he felt an indescribable feeling of dread rising up in his chest, hollowing out the edges until it had carved itself a nice pit of fear and despair.

For approaching him was a cloaked man, eyes like storm clouds gleaming dangerously beneath his hood as he stared them down. In his right hand was a staff—long and sturdy, made of strong wood and channeling incredibly potent magic, he could tell. The man was clearly a mage of immense power.

He didn’t think he’d cower before anyone but his father—but oh, how he was proven wrong. He trembled before the newcomer, eyes transfixed on him despite the sheer terror flooding his veins.

The man took one look at them and narrowed his eyes, curling his lip in disdain.

“Fae,” he muttered, wrinkling his nose as he eyed both of them in scrutiny. “What business do you have trespassing my abode?”

Kurt swallowed the lump in his throat as he tried to gather his words. “Your... abode..?”

The mage narrowed his eyes at him, clearly unimpressed with his answer. “Surely you noticed that you stepped into magical territory—territory that is mine, by the way.”

Was that it? The lushness of the trees, the vibrance of wildlife in the area... the overall splendour of this part of the woods... It was all his?

“I... I’m sorry... I hadn’t noticed,” he mumbled, head bowed in remorse. It only served to remind him that he was still in mortal peril however, when the halo of the hex glyph shone upon his face, as if it were taunting him.

“Hmph. It is strange for someone like a Fae to not notice.” He spat out the word like it left a bitter taste in his mouth. Kurt felt shame creeping onto his face. “After all, I’ve made things very clear with your king that should any of you cross into my realm, I’ll not hesitate to put an end to you. Permanently.”

Kurt raised his head, though most of the mage’s words escaped him. All he caught was the part where—

“You know my father?” He asked meekly.

All at once, the man’s grim expression dropped and in its place instead was a look of confusion, which quickly morphed into disbelief.

“Your... father?” He questioned slowly, as if still trying to catch up to what he had said.

He heard Kreacher groan somewhere behind him.

“Why d-did you tell him th-that?” He sounded exasperated. Though Kurt couldn’t have told the difference—that was how he usually sounded anyway.

“But—”

“The Fae King... is your father.” A statement, not a question. Though by the way the man was raising a brow at him, it may have well been one.

Kurt mimicked his expression, tilting his head. “Yes?” He was unsure of this line of questioning—had he not made that clear already?

The mage came closer, eyes narrowed as he circled him, much like a hawk would do to mice.

Overcome by a bout of self-consciousness, he pulled his cloak tighter around himself. It was for naught however, when the strange man poked him with the end of his staff, using it to flip his cloak over his shoulder.

“Hey!” He made a move to protest, but the mage gave him a warning glance.

“I can make this glyph trigger right now,” he said, voice low and cold, “or I can push you with this,” he gestured to his staff, “and make it trigger anyway. Either way, it’ll be excruciatingly painful, and you wouldn’t want that, would you?”

Kurt shook his head vehemently.

“Then stand. Still.” With that, the stranger continued to poke away, displacing his cloak. Once his garb was fully revealed, he made an unimpressed noise as he stepped back, giving Kurt a once-over.

“Is something... the matter?” He asked hesitantly.

The mage hummed, stroking his chin in thought. “You are not what I expected,” he said finally, sending Kurt a piercing gaze that left chills running down his spine.

“And what did you expect?” He asked curiously, despite the lingering fear and unease in his veins.

“Well... not you.”

He gave an affronted gasp, but the man continued onwards before he could even say anything.

“Curses, I wouldn’t even have believed you otherwise if it weren’t for the family crest you bear on your garments.” He chuckled softly while Kurt gave him an ineffective glare. “You’re nothing like your father.”

“And just what do you mean by that?” He snapped, having had enough of the comparison. He was well aware that he bore zero resemblance to his father—it had been a constant reminder since his birth.

The mage raised a brow. “Don’t give me that look, Fae Prince,” the words almost seemed mocking on his tongue. “It’s a compliment.”

“In what way?!”

“Every way possible.”

Kurt paused at that statement, eyeing the other quizzically. “I don’t... understand?” Had he misinterpreted? Had the man not been making a mockery out of him?

Now the mage seemed to be amused, eyeing him with a raised brow and a smirk. “The Fae King is a terrible being—wicked and cruel, deceives all to serve him, takes what he wants with his cunning ways, and leaves nothing but misery and ruin wherever he reaps.” He took a moment to gaze up at the trees—the trees that Kurt had made blossom. “You don’t resemble him at all.”

“Oh.” Kurt was flabbergasted. He watched as the man reached a hand out to catch a falling flower, inspecting it closely.

“Hm. Magnolia.” He pocketed the flower, and Kurt could only watch in silence as his face reddened at the implication of his previous sentence.

“I, um...” He hesitated, lifting his gaze up to the mage, who now didn’t seem as cold and uncaring as before. Instead, he seemed more amused than anything. When he didn’t say anything, Kurt decided to go on. “I am Kurt, Prince of the Fae,” he said, bowing as best he could while trying not to trigger the glyph.

The mage before him laughed, and he felt his face reddened at the no-doubt incoming embarrassment that would follow.

“By the deities... You really are a Fae unlike any other,” he said, cackling. “I’ve never met a Fae who’d willingly give their name away like that—isn’t it usually the other way around?”

His blood ran cold. Out of all his father’s teachings... it was the most basic principle that he forgot.

Never give out your real name to anyone, under any circumstance.

He could barely register Kreacher’s shout of alarm behind him—all he could focus on was the suffocating laughter of the mage who seemed thoroughly amused by the turn of events.

The world seemed to cave in—he had done a terrible, grievous mistake. It was no wonder that his father didn’t care much for him. He was the worst Fae to ever exist!

He covered his face with his hands as he willed himself not to cry—but he was shaking. Trembling. Every breath was hard on his lungs—he felt submerged, even if he was dry.

He slowly lowered into a crouch, reluctant sniffles and sobs escaping him as he pressed the balls of his hands against his eyes, trying to stop the flow of tears that just suddenly seemed to gush out.

He felt small. Pathetic. He wasn’t a child anymore—but then why did he feel so useless?

Perhaps his father was right—he was simply dooming himself the moment he stepped outside. He should go home—go back to his bedroom surrounded by his four ivory walls with his cold marble floor, go back to spending his days rereading every book in the library, back to the days when he watched the townsfolk only through his stained glass window.

But that was a terrible life... and it didn’t seem like much of a life at all.

“KURT!”

He snapped back to reality when Kreacher shook him violently by the shoulders, gasping when he took him in fully with his blurry gaze.

“You’re- free??”

Kreacher huffed, dabbing at his face with a woven handkerchief. “Yeah, no shite.”

“But- how?!” He grasped the bandit by the shoulders, eyeing every inch of him.

“How else?” He jerked his head to a direction behind him, and Kurt followed it to catch sight of the mage once more, who, in contrast to before, was now looking at him with a most concerned expression. He almost seemed panicked.

“You helped? But why?” He chewed on his lip as he avoided the man’s gaze, rubbing at his eyes harshly. He managed to pull himself together to send him one withering look, and it surprised him to see that the other actually seemed guilty.

“It was not my intention to insult you,” he clarified, as genuine as he could allow himself to be. “And I most certainly never meant to hurt you like that. I see now that I’ve been far too discourteous, and for that I apologise. If you’re worried about me knowing your name... Don’t be. I swear on my Grandmaster’s name that I won’t use it against you.” He concluded his statement with a bow, and upon looking down, Kurt realised that the glyph had disappeared as well. Or perhaps it had long since vanished and he simply failed to realise it.

“Well, that’s a relief...” He sighed, feeling like an enormous weight had been lifted from his chest, “... And I forgive you,” he said simply after a while, ignoring the sputtering protests of his companion in favour of gracing the stranger with a kind smile.

To his delight, the mage seemed relieved. He was as well—it left a bad taste in his mouth to let others suffer. It was simply uncalled for.

“Ugh. Fine, forgive him. Kreacher d-doesn’t care.” The bandit rolled his eyes, to which Kurt shook his head fondly. “But if we’re d-done here, let’s move on. Don’t stay where you’re not wanted, Your Highness,” he ended the statement with a pointed look at the mage, who furrowed his brows in thought.

Kurt nodded. He didn’t want to overstay his visit—especially since he wasn’t welcomed in the first place. “Right. Sorry about the trespassing, Sir Mage. Rest assured we won’t be doing it anymore.”

“Actually—”

He definitely did not let out an embarrassing sound when the mage came forth to grasp his hand.

For a moment, both of them stilled, gazes stuck upon their joined hands. The moment was broken with a rather loud ‘OY’ from Kreacher. The mage cleared his throat as he continued where he left off.

“To make up for my rudeness, how about you stay the night?”

The Fae Prince blinked owlishly. “Me?”

“Well, both of you, but- yes. I truly am sorry about everything, and I... wouldn’t want to give off a bad impression as the sorcerer of these woods.” He coughed into his other hand, tugging off his cloak to reveal slicked-back hair, with several misplaced strands sticking out, no doubt from the hood. His eyes were the same exact shade of the storm clouds that Kurt compared them to when he had first met him earlier.

The smile on his face widened, and before Kreacher could say anything, he happily replied with an “Okay!” He bowed deeply, showing his gratitude. “We humbly accept your kind gesture, Sorcerer of the Woods.” When he straightened up, he found that a smile came easily to his face—and the flowers bloomed tenfold.

Perhaps he wasn’t such a hopeless case after all—in any case, father had always told him how he’d be devoured the moment he left the kingdom, but that couldn’t be true! People could be kind, just like he had suspected his entire life. For how else would he still be alive right now?

The sorcerer took a moment to gaze up at the trees above him, eyes widened and his mouth open in awe as the petals rained over them like snowfall. Turning his gaze to Kurt, he offered a similar smile, a twinkle in his eyes as he grasped his hand again, albeit gently.

“No. It is you who are kind, fair Prince of the Fae—for these trees haven’t blossomed in over a millennium,” he said, a grin on his face. “They were cursed by your father to never undergo florescence—but it seems that you have lifted it on his behalf.”

Kurt’s eyes grew to the size of saucers. “Oh- really? But... I don’t know how to lift curses...” He flushed when the sorcerer bent down to press a brief kiss to the back of his hand. It left him feeling funny. He heard Kreacher’s indignant squawk beside him.

“Well... I would be lying if I said that I knew the reason it broke... But as I’ve said, you are nothing like him. Though you are his child, and that makes me presume that you’ve inherited his aptitude for Fae magic... so perhaps, you’ve simply... overwritten it?” He tilted his head, and Kurt could only gape in awe.

“That can happen?”

“Anything can happen if you have the will to carry it out... Though I suspect this was more of your unconscious will than a premeditated effort.” His gaze remained on the trees above them, flowering so prosperously that the forest floor was starting to get covered in pinks and whites. It was beautiful.

Kurt couldn’t help the wonder and excitement brimming in him—he wasn’t at all like his father, that’s true—but perhaps that wasn’t a bad thing. After all, he did prefer the sight of flowering trees over the withered, hollow husks of wood that his father decorated his garden with.

The bandit snorted beside him, giving him a slight nudge with his shoulder. “Well, call me a g-goblin’s spawn—you’re just full of s-s-surprises, aren’t you, Your Royal Highness?” It wasn’t his taste at all, but who was he to keep his friend from being happy?

He beamed at his friend, laughter brought back to his face. “Perhaps I am!”

“Indeed you are,” the sorcerer added, and Kurt could only smile wider—because for the first time... he felt like he finally belonged.

#helio's ficlets #idvexplorer #idvmagician #idvthief #kurtvais

22 notes · View notes

thebest-medicine · 2 years

Text

Three Times Hunter Got Tickled and One Time He Didn’t

Fandom: The Owl House

Words: 4,414 [read on AO3]

Summary: Hunter slowly opens up to the people in his life who have shown time and again they care for him. Maybe being vulnerable around others isn’t the worst thing in the world. [warning, contains: fluff, tickling, tickle magic]

Characters: Lee!Hunter, Ler!Flapjack, Ler!Luz, Ler!Willow and the rest of the Emerald Entrails (ft. Palisman) briefly Lee!Luz and Ler!Hunter

Asks/Prompts/insp:

A/N: Thank you all for sending me these after I posted about toh ideas. I enjoy all of these ideas and had to write something up, taking a little inspiration from each.

I. Flapjack

It was nice having someone to talk to, someone to care for, someone who seemed to want to be around him through everything he’s been through recently.. someone who wanted to stay with him. It was no secret that Hunter had a soft spot for his Palisman, despite how he lowered his voice to a whisper when he would dote on Flapjack or remind the sweet palisman how much he loved him.

Hunter, content that he was (not truly) alone, read aloud to Flapjack, laying back against the bed they had taken up residence in at the Owl House.

King and Luz had worked out a draft of the sequel to Ruler’s Reach, which Hunter had all but jumped at the chance to read when they mentioned it. They had found the sparkles in his eyes and the way he tried so hard to play it casual so, so endearing.

Hunter sometimes paused when reading if he didn’t quite understand something about it. A reference, a word, an interaction between characters especially, since he didn’t have much personal experience on that front.

Flapjack had been around for some time, it seemed, and had some reassurances and answers at times. Other times, he watched Hunter excitedly try to work it out or research some new vocabulary.

This time, he had stopped in confusion after reading about a character’s knees going weak and them falling into laughter just from their friend grabbing their side unexpectedly. Since when did people react like that to being surprised? Maybe they were…. nervous about some, unspoken chemistry between them? And sudden close contact brought all the butterflies in their stomach out in a burst of laughter? He felt a pang of familiarity when he started thinking about it for a second too long.

Flapjack noticed he had gone quiet and tweeted curiously at him.

“Hmm? Oh I was just… that seems weird. Why would touching someone make them laugh..?” Hunter wondered aloud to Flapjack, who chirped cheerily in reply.

“Really?” Hunter gave him a skeptical look.

Flapjack flew up a few inches above him, tittering louder.

“What? Ok…” Hunter set the manuscript to the side and watched Flapjack curiously.

Flapjack chirped approvingly and landed on Hunter’s chest. He sang a few more directions only Hunter could seem to understand.

“Huh? Why would I-“

Flapjack chirped impatiently.

“Fine, I promis-“ He cut himself off with a hum in his throat as Flapjack perched up on his collar bone and leaned down, nuzzling against his neck and under his chin.

“W-hehe- what are you doing?” Hunter finally opened his mouth to question Flapjack only to open the dam as giggles began to sputter out.

Flapjack moved lower to the side of his neck and brushed against a spot just below his ear. Hunter squealed quietly. “Hehey- this feeheheels hehe weird ahaha- oh Ti-hihihihihiton!”

Flapjack chirruped excitedly, and with a burst of energy to match, wiggled further into the crook of Hunter’s neck.

“Hey! Flahahahapja- Aha- okahahay, okay! I gehehehet it I get it!” Hunter chuckled out exasperatedly. “Ahaha-And I don’t think I hahaha- can keep my promiseehehehee to not push you away much longer!”

Hunter’s hands wrung into the blankets as he tried to stop himself from stopping Flapjack and fought the urge to hide his face.

Flapjack tweeted approvingly with a final brush up against Hunter’s chin.

“We gotta keep that a secret…” Hunter sighed tiredly as he reached a finger up for Flapjack to perch upon. “Promise?”

Flapjack fluttered and chirped disapprovingly.

Hunter’s eyes widened. “Wait- what do you mean no???”

II. The Emerald Entrails

Hunter sped across the field, feeling the wind flow through his hair as he gripped his staff tighter. As Skara drove a player from the other team into his trajectory, he and Flapjack shot disappeared in a flash just before colliding with the player. Hunter reappeared in a flash of gold on his staff, flipped upside down as he passed over the startled witch, reaching out swiftly to grab their orange flag.

Just as he flipped back up, letting out a cheer as he readied himself to speed toward the goal spikes, he heard Gus cry out to him.

Hunter’s breath rushed out in a huff as he felt the impact of another witch slamming into him from the side. How had he missed them? Gus sped toward them, and Hunter tossed the flag he’d captured to his teammate just as the other witch wrestled his own flag off his staff. Hunter felt a pang of shame having been the first on their team to lose his flag. He made his way to the sidelines with a frown on his face.

The game continued with a rush as though nothing had happened. Willow took out another witch’s flag as Skara and Viney seemed to herd the other team around the court. Hunter felt himself flush as he thought about their opponents not even being that strong. How had they gotten the better of him?

Hunter continued frowning as he watched the game, his thoughts racing and focusing in on what he could have done better, and… hoping there would be a next time. What if they didn’t want someone like him on their team? What if they found someone better? Gus and Viney lost their flags simultaneously and joined him on the sidelines, pulling him a bit from his thoughts. They stood nearby chatting about their plays as Viney healed a few bruises of Gus’s. Hunter watched Willow and Skara work together seamlessly, truly impressive witches, to snag and place the last 3 opposing team members’ flags. They did it basically all without him. Hunter sighed, then jumped with a start as Viney tapped his shoulder.

“Well? Anything?” Viney asked again.

“Huh?” Hunter blinked at her.

“Did you hear anything I said?” Viney let out a laugh. “Are you good? Need anything healed?”

Hunter turned to face her. “No, yes, I’m fine. I mean- I was out so early I didn’t have time to get hurt anyway.” He stated quietly, turning back to the field and frowning.

Viney gave Gus a look.

Willow and Skara landed as Gus and Viney rushed them with a large bucket of Ghoul-Aid. “Another Entrails Victory!” Willow declared. Hunter didn’t immediately run to greet them, falling a pace behind the other two.

Willow took one look at him and shouted, “HUNTER! Get in here!” He felt a firm vine push him into the group for a hug. He tumbled forward without much protest into the other members of his team. They embraced him. He felt his face and ears warming up, and something… lighten inside of him as he let himself be hugged. He almost smiled.

“We did great!” Skara smiled, giving everyone an extra squeeze before letting go with a laugh.

“Yeah..” Hunter quietly agreed. He still felt instinctively like he let everyone down, despite their reassurances since they started playing together.

He turned away from the group as Flapjack transformed back and chirped at him, landing briefly on his shoulder. “Wh- Nothing!” He argued softly with the little bird as he walked away from the group.

More punctuated chirps.

“Seriously! I’m fine.”

Flapjack tilted his head with an inquisitive titter.

Hunter made his way to the sidelines and started collecting the few things he had brought with him.

Flapjack fluttered off his shoulder and hovered in front of his face, making him pause and stand up straight. “Oh come on!”

Hunter leaned in close with a sigh. “Okay. Fine! They don’t need me. Didn’t you see? They do fine without me.” He whispered.

Flapjack chirped at him once, then landed back on his shoulder as Hunter started to step around him. Flapjack nuzzled his little cheek and beak against Hunter’s neck, just behind his ear. Hunter’s face started to heat up again with a blush. “He-hey!” He scrunched his shoulder up a bit.

Flapjack move to his other shoulder, doing the same. Hunter let out a small laugh which seemed to draw the suddenly quiet group’s attention to him.

“Hunter? Where are you going?” Gus turned to ask him. “And what’s so funny?”

“Trying to ditch us already?” Willow teased, waving him back over.

“No… I.. I was just going to…. go hom…e….” He said weakly, kicking the toe of his shoe into the dirt.

“What? Why? We haven’t even celebrated yet!” Willow moved toward him. “Stay for a bit, please?” “

Hunter stopped in his tracks, bowing his head. “You guys played amazing.. I know I wasn’t… helpful today and I apologize, Captain.” He looked down at the dirt beneath Willow’s shoes.

“What are you talking about?” Willow gaped. “You are a-ma-zing at flyer derby.”

“Everybody gets got at some point in the game! That’s why we are a ~team~!” Skara emphasized.

“But I let everyone down today…”

A now familiar feeling of a large vine shoved against him, and Hunter was quickly swept back over to the group.

“You. Did. Not.” Willow and the rest of the team insisted as they embraced him. “Let. Anyone. Down.”

“Accept our love!” Gus cried out as an order as the whole team squeezed him tight. Everyone’s palisman started to join in too, crowding around the only open space which happened to be… Hunter’s hair and neck. Hunter felt warm and not just in his cheeks from the kindness they showed him. But, he wasn’t one to forgive himself easily. He resisted a bit, fighting to keep his frown. His mouth opened to stutter out some kind of excuse for why he was undeserving of their love and appreciation.

But that thought was suddenly interrupted when Flapjack started nuzzling into his neck again. Hunter made a small noise in his throat, his frown fully faltering. He started to flinch and squirm subtly in everyone’s grip.

Willow looked up and grinned, “Aww Flapjack’s trying to get him to smile!” The edge of her lips turned up in a smirk when she made eye contact with Hunter and saw him fighting down giggles. She knew that look anywhere.

Soon the other palisman took a cue from Flapjack and started nuzzling into Hunter’s neck. His teammates still had him trapped in a bear hug from all sides, and these palisman were really starting to, well, tickle. Hunter squirmed a little more noticeably as he chuckled out a half-hearted. “Let me gooo.”

“Not until you really smile!”

“And stop apologizing!”

“And acknowledge your skills are sick!”

“And accept that we all love having you on this team!”

Everyone yelled back at him cheerily in response. Hunter would have continued to protest but he was too busy trying his hardest not to laugh from these pesky palismen.

Willow gave Hunter a look as a strangled squeal crawled its way out of his throat. “I think they might have the right idea…” She grinned as she caught his eye.

“W-Wait.” Hunter felt the grin that had been fighting for its place on his mouth take the upper hand as he saw a dark smirk spread on Willow’s face. She wormed her hands around within their hug, a large tangle of arms. Hunter’s arms were somewhat pinned to his sides due to the sudden embrace of his teammates. Willow reached his stomach and ran an experimental couple of fingers against the uniform shirt.

Hunter’s smile curled as he fought the urge to laugh, imagining it would only serve to make this situation worse for him. His face flushed a deeper red and his ears to match.

“Aww.. our favorite teammate has some ticklish entrails!” Willow chuckled as she wiggled her fingers in a claw against his middle.

Hunter sputtered, wiggling himself to escape the hug just as he started to laugh out loud. Figuring there was no way around and up was full of tickly palisman, Hunter decided to go down, and fell to the ground as Viney, Gus, Skara, and the Captain smiled down at him like hungry sea monsters who just caught a ship. Hunter squeaked as they laughed and launched at him, piling onto Hunter haphazardly and poking and tweaking at his sides, stomach, and knees. Gus got a hand up by his neck like he had seen the palisman try earlier and was rewarded with a scrunch and a high pitched giggle.

“Hahahah noooo hahaha guys!” Hunter whined, though he was definitely feeling better now than he had been a few minutes ago.

Willow squeezed up both of his sides before slowing to a stop, instructing the others to pause their fingers as well.

“So Hunter. I really want to let you up here.” She started.

“Ok. Great.” He replied, panting.

“But-“

“But…” He swallowed, eyes darting to each of his teammates.

“You need to STOP being so hard on yourself. We seriously love having you on this team. You are amazing.”

Hunter broke eye contact as she spoke.

“I wanna hear it.” Willow insisted as she and Skara and Viney kept him pushed to the ground.

“Hear- what? No!” Hunter protested.

“I wanna hear you agree that you’re amazing..” Willow sing-songed. “Or we’re gonna have to tickle you some more until you do!” She grinned wolfishly.

Hunter let out a small squeak, face turning somehow even more red as his team held him on the ground smiling and teasing. “N-no wayahahaha hey!”

Skara and Viney each squeezed his above his knees while Willow poked into his stomach. Hunter’s hands flailed about as he let out a laugh without much of a fight. Gus and Flapjack along with the other palismen brushed against his ears and neck and collar bones, making him cackle.

“Okay- okayhaahahahy ahh- I get it hehehe!” Hunter pleaded with them between squeals and swells of laughter. Hunter was fully smiling now, his self-deprecating mood be damned.

There was something about the way that his teammates cared enough to reassure him. The way they were determined to see him smile. The way they all were so open with kindness. The way that they were certainly killing him right now- but were also being deliberately gentle with him.

Hunter squeezed his eyes shut as laughter started to pour out more freely. He was dying but he was also enjoying the strange and fun yet unbearable closeness amongst his team.. his… friends. He thought perhaps he would have been flushed just from these thoughts alone. But he didn’t have to worry about that, because the wiggling fingers attacking various spots kept him red and thoroughly too distracted to think about much.

“I wanna hear it…” Willow reminded him.

Hunter gasped at a spot Willow found on his lower ribs. “Okay- ALRIGHT!” He cried out. She stopped but kept her hand in place. The rest slowed down a bit but kept poking and squeezing intermittently at his knees and neck. “I’m ahahahahaha I’m an amazing flyer derby plahahahahayer!” Hunter giggled out.

“And?”

“And whahahahaat?” Hunter whined, looking up at her.

“And person!” She tweaked the spot on his ribs again. Hunter threw his head back with a squeal.

“Wh- Why???????” He whined louder.

Willow reached her other hand across his abdomen and began to tweak his lower ribs on both sides, making Hunter jump under her touch. “Why? Why what?” Willow responded. “Why are you an amazing person? Why do you have to say it? Why are you so ticklish?”

Hunter let out a noise of protest as she teased.

“Well, the first one, I can think of plenty of reasons!” Willow continued.

“We should make a list!” Gus smiled.

“Nooooooo..” Hunter whined through giggles, fighting the urge to cover his face.

“Excellent flyer!” Willow began.

“You’ve got the moves dude!” Skara agreed.

“Sweetest relationship ever with Flapjack!” Viney added.

“Guhuhuhhuuys!”

“Ok we can go into detail about how great you are later, speaking of, that brings us to number two! You have to say it because it’s THE TRUTH!” Willow worked her fingers up toward his underarms and upper ribs, making his laughter heighten in pitch.

“As for the last one, why are you so ticklish, I’m not sure we can ever know the answer!” Gus quipped with a smile.

Willow leaned in closer to Hunter, catching his eyes. “Well, we can at least find out the How and the Where, maybe not the why!”

“I wonder if you could figure out where someone’s ticklish with healing magic?” Viney pondered aloud.

Hunter was pretty sure all the blood in his body was pounding in his head, making him blush from his neck to his ears. He couldn’t take this much longer. Still, they did seem to be gentler with him than he had seen others be. No one was tickling too hard or too fast. He was fully embarrassed and full of laughter but he could breathe. He was just also dying. He would have to…. Say nice things about himself.

He laughed endearingly as he fought weakly against Willow and the others, not doing much to stop any of the tickling attack. His arms fought between clamping down, covering his face, struggling to push away hands on his middle, and swatting at the ticklers attacking his neck and ears. Both were futile. “Ahhahah I’m ahah I’m amazing I’m amazing! Hahahaa please!” He finally yelled through his laughter.

The feeling stopped all at once. “And don’t you forget it.” Willow said with a wink as she helped him to his feet.

Skara punched his shoulder playfully as he got up. “Good game. Can’t wait til the next one!”

“Need any healing after that?” Viney asked with a chuckle and a wide grin.

Hunter chuckled. “No. I’m good.” He looked up only to see Willow giving him a look. “I mean! I mean I’m amazing!” He blurted out.

They all laughed after a beat.

III. Luz (& Magic)

“No way! Get that away from me!” Gus cried out with a lightness in his voice as he rounded the corner into the living room. Hunter looked up at him with alarm.

“Come onnnnn! Help me figure out how it works!” Luz’s voice called back from behind. She appeared a few seconds later, booking it after Gus. They both had smiles on their faces. Hunter tried to assess what was going on when Gus darted behind him.

“No way! I saw what you- what you did to Amity! And Willow!” Gus shrank himself behind Hunter, who instinctively put his arms out to guard Gus from their friend.

“What? What happened?” Hunter gave Luz a strange look. “What is going on?”

“She’s going to torture meeeeee!” Gus whined. He had a smile in his voice though.

“What?” Hunter scrunched his eyebrows at the human. She seemed to have been looking for an opening, a paper in her hand which Hunter assumed contained a glyph combination, like he had seen her use before. “Ok seriously what is going on? Are you ok? Is Willow ok?” Hunter didn’t know what to make of them.

“I just found a new… interesting glyph combo… and I’m trying to test it out!” Luz explained as she reached out a few times for Gus unsuccessfully. She growled, playfully frustrated.

“Wait..” Luz stopped, looking up after Hunter blocked her attempt to grab Gus again. “Maybe you can help me instead!” She got a huge grin on her face.

Gus started to back away from Hunter, laughing nervously as he looked for the next place he could run to or hide.

“I don’t think I want to do.. whatever is making Gus sprint away from you..” Hunter glared at her.

“It’ll be really quick though! I promise! Nothing bad will happen!” Luz smiled, putting on her best honest look.

Gus laughed. “Depends on what you call bad!”

“Are you ticklish, Hunter?”

“What?” Hunter almost squeaked. Luz gave him a look that made him feel like he should definitely answer no.

Luz didn’t wait any longer for their protests before she reached out to slap a glyph onto Hunter’s chest. He looked down at it and her hand as she tapped it. He flinched at the touch.

And then suddenly it was… a feeling. “What did? What did you do?” Hunter felt his skin start to buzz, tingle, like Luz’s hand was still there, but also in 20 other places, lightly moving like Flapjack’s feathers. But there wasn’t a hand there. He gasped. Hunter’s mouth curled up at the sides as he took a few steps backward, falling into Gus.

“It’s a new combo I learned- by accident.. I just don’t know if it..makes someone feel ticklish? Or just tickles them? Or just makes them laugh?” She pondered. “Gus, Willow, and Amity agreed to help me out with some research but then Gus chickened out when the other two started laughing! I’d love to hear your notes though!” She pulled out of a pen and paper and beamed at Hunter.

Gus giggled as he caught Hunter, who was twitching and had his mouth squeezed shut.

“Well it’s-“ Hunter gritted his teeth. “It’s working- haha- ohohohoh no- Titan- how do you stahahhop it?” He dissolved into giggles as the feeling spread and got worse.

This was one of the first times Luz had seen a genuine smile or heard a real laugh from him. She was kind of glad Gus found her a new test subject.

“I’m- not sure how long it would last, but you can also stop it like this.” Luz reached down to the paper still adhering to his chest and pulled it off. Stopping the sensation from spreading further down to his legs or up to his neck…

“That was… terrible.” Hunter laughed. “Never do- wait.. actually.” He reached for the hand Luz extended to help him fully to his feet. “You know what, it was super interesting, Human. In fact, I think you should try it for yourself.” As she was helping him and Gus up, Hunter reached into her pocket and grabbed a handful of her new pre-drawn glyphs.

“How many of these did you make?” Hunter teased. “Do you think they amplify the effects if you use more than one?”

“Um… I don’t know!” Luz stuttered with a nervous smile, eyes wide and bouncing between Hunter and Gus. She bolted backward down the hallway, only to be chased this time by the two witches and their laughter.

IV. Hunter (& Magic)

Willow emerged with a pink face from Luz’s room, followed by Amity, as they finally managed to remove the tickling glyph from each other. For some reason they could not seem to get it off themselves… They heard a squeal of laughter down the hall and went to go help Gus if Luz had captured him too, only to realize the laughter was coming from Luz herself.

Gus and Hunter high-fived with matching grins as they finished slapping a glyph onto Luz’s back, stomach, and finally a third just above her ankle. Luz contorted and wriggled on the ground with silly, full body laughter.

“That’s what you get!” Gus jeered at her and then smiled,

“Shuuthuhuhut up I dihihihidn’t even gehehet you! Juhuhust Hunter!” Luz managed to correct him between cackles.

Willow let out a laugh at the sight, walking up behind the boys. “Well.” She panted, still giddy from the tickling glyphs she and Amity had just escaped after being left to giggle indefinitely by Luz. “Looks like you guys took care of revenge for us.” She scooted between Hunter and Gus, watched on fondly as Luz snorted and curled and tried desperately to peel off the pesky glyphs.

“Hehehehehehehelp me!” Luz cried, looking to Amity who had yet to condemn her to this life of giggles. “Sweeheheheheheet potato! Dohohohon’t let them dohoho this!” She curled up like an armadillo only to end up flailing about as different spots started tingling, her feet, her neck, her sides, as the glyph magic spread.

“Aww…” Amity gave her a sympathetic look. “I‘ll help.” She paused, a slight grin gracing her still pink face. “Soon...”

Luz wailed in betrayal as she continued kicking and swatting at the not fully there tickling.

“So, Luz, is it worse with more than one? Like you hypothesized?” Gus cooed at her.

“OF COHOHOHOOURSE IT IS!” Luz cackled. “Pleasahhsshheehehehe have merceehehey!”

“Alright, alright.” Amity and Gus both reached down to remove the glyphs, leaving Luz a giggly puddle on the floor.

“So… she got you with the tickle glyphs too, hmm?” Willow wiggled her eyebrow at Hunter.

“Oh-” Hunter turned red. “Uh, yeah.” He felt a tinge of embarrassment bubbling in his middle. He hoped his ears wouldn’t turn red too. “She was, well, trying to get Gus, but-“

“Aw- did you save him?!” Willow pulled him into a quick hug. “How sweet.”

Hunter gave a half-smile, still rebooting for a second when she let him go. “Um- yeah- sure, I guess.” His ears were definitely red.

Gus startled Hunter when he grasped onto his shoulder from the other side, dramatically reciting, “My hero!”

“You know what, we should see if we could use something like that as a secret weapon for flyer derby!” Willow said a little too evilly for Hunter’s liking.

“Maybe we... don’t bring those things to practice with everyone.” Hunter laughed nervously, knowing he was still a bit pink.

“Aww don’t worry! We’ll be so nice to our hero!” Gus and Willow continued to tease while reassuring him.

They whisked Hunter away from the other two girls without any protest from him. Amity knelt down beside Luz, who wiggled closer and leaned her head back in her lap, still giggling lightly.

“That was prehehetty bad, omg,” Luz giggled as she stared up at her girlfriend with puppy dog eyes. She broke eye contact for a moment. “Sorry I left you and Willow like that to chase after Gus…”

“Well, I would’ve liked to have gotten a little payback, but I think Hunter and Gus took care of that for now.” Amity told her softly. She walked two fingers cheekily up Luz’s arm toward her face and tapped a finger on her nose. “Although at some point, I think I should help you figure out whether there’s a difference between your new trick and the real thing…”

Luz gaped at her, a nervous protest forming on her lips.

“Don’t worry.” Amity pressed a kiss to her temple. “Not today.”

Luz giggled. “Okay.” And she let herself melt into Amity’s touch, content to rest right there in the middle of the floor.

184 notes · View notes

gh0--st · 11 months

Text

Quiet

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summary: When Luz wont stop blabbering to Eda, she finds a way to keep the kid quiet

Lee: Luz

Ler: Eda

This is a tickle fic, if youre not into that kind of stuff, please dont read this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"And then, me and Amity almost got caught in the forbidden stacks, so we accidentally got really close while hiding. It was kind of embarrassing, really." Luz explained, a blush on her cheeks.

Eda sighed as the girl kept talking. Ever since she had gotten back from the Blight Manor, the only thing she seemed to know how to do was talk.

"Look, kid, I'm glad you had fun with your little girlfriend, but for titans' sake! Will it kill you not to mention everything that happened?" She said.

Luz's face went a little red, "She's not my girlfriend, Eda!" She crossed her arms. Eda blinked, "Didn't she kiss you?" She asked.

Luz looked away, her blush getting deeper, "Well- maybe it was a friends kiss!" She said. Eda blinked, "No offense kid, but that has to be the dumbest thing you've said all night."

Luz just pouted at her, "Can I keep telling my story?" She asked. Eda sighed, "Am I gonna be able to stop you?" She asked.

Luz grinned, "Nope! So- We got caught since I was too loud, and Amity lost her job, but I went through a lot of trials to get her job back for her." She continued.

Eda groaned. Luz just smirked at her, "Whenever I went to give her card back, I found out she had dyed her hair a purple color. It was really pretty and-" She trailed off as she realized Eda was smirking at her.

She raised an eyebrow, "What's the look for?" She asked. Eda shrugged, "Well, I just figured out a way to get you to hush." She said.

Luz just gave her a smug look, "Oh yeah? And how are you gonna do that?" She asked. Luz's smug look soon turned into a nervous one as she saw Eda wiggle her fingers at her, "I think you know." She said.

Immediately, Luz raced out of the room. Eda was hot on her trail. Luz burst into her room, hiding behind some junk that had been kept in her room.

Eda walked in not long after, closing and locking the door. "You've trapped yourself, kid! Just come out, and maybe I'll show some mercy." She said.

When it stayed quiet, Eda frowned. She thought for a moment before grinning again, "I wonder how the little Blight would react to see the strong girl who had gotten her job back being afraid of a few tickles." She called loudly.

Luz's face went a bit red with a squeak at the thought. She immediately covered her mouth, praying that she wasnt heard.

Unfortunately, she was. She watched a shadow block out the small light that shown. She looked up and saw Eda looming over her, a smirk on her face, "Caught ya!" She said.

Luz quickly tried to escape, running to the door and desperately trying to unlock it. It didn't take long until Eda had grabbed her, dropping her down on her bed and holding her down.

Luz squirmed, "Let go!" She said. Eda sighed, "Guess we gotta do this the hard way." She said, reaching into her hair and pulling out a few plant glyphs.

She placed them down, activating them and summoning vines to wrap and hold Luz's arms and legs down. Luz tried to squirm, "That's not fair!" She whined.

"No, what isn't fair is me having to listen to you blabber about your girlfriend." She said.

Luz glared at her, her face red, "Shes not my girlfriend." She muttered. Eda rolled her eyes with a sigh

"Not yet, at least." She said before groaning, "I can only imagine how sappy you two will be when you actually do get together." She smirked at Luz as her face got redder.

"But, I guess I'll just have to enjoy my silence while it lasts, I just have to deal with you first." She said, placing her fingers on Luz's sides.

Luz squeaked, "We dont have to do it this way! I'll be quiet, I swear!" She promised, but it was no use. Eda just shrugged, "Sorry kid, too late to go back now!" She smirked.

Before Luz could respond, Eda squeezed her sides, earning a surprised squeak from Luz as she bit her lip. Eda sighed, "You do know you're making it worse for yourself, right?" She said, moving up to poke at Luz's ribs.

Luz squeaked again, this time letting out bubbly giggles as she squirmed, "Ehada!Noho!" Luz whined.

Eda just blinked at her, grinning as she dug her fingers into her ribs, every now and then squeezing her sides. Luz's giggles got louder at that.

"QuihIht Ihit!" She tried to squirm, but the vines held her still. Eda smirked, "I could quit, but then you'd probably keep talking!" She said.

Luz tried to pout at her but couldn't even hold the look due to how giggly she was. Eda hummed for a second before moving her hands up and scribbling at her neck.

Luz squealed for a second before bursting into loud, hiccupy giggles, "EHEhDa! NOhOt Thehere!" Luz tried to curl up, trying to hide her neck.

"I wonder how Amity would react if she could see you now, a big giggly mess on the floor! Im sure she'd just find it adorable!" Eda teased, chuckling as Luz's face got redder.

"SHUhut UhUhp!" She whined, trying to glare at Eda but failing miserably. Eda kept scrabbling her neck, until she realized how tired Luz was starting to look.

Her grin got bigger, "Okay, this should finally get you to hush!" She said. Luz looked at her, confused before her eyes widened as Eda took in a breath.

"W-Wait-!" She was about to plead but was cut off with a loud squeal as Eda blew a raspberry on her neck.

"NAHAHA- EHEHEADA!" Luz thrashed her head around, trying to hide her neck from the older witch. Eda just grinned, watching the girl as she struggled to squirm, shaking her head as she caught her breath.

She started to pick at the vines, eventually managing to tear them off of her. Luz immediately hugged herself, still giggling a little.

Eda watched her sit up, "Are you gonna be quiet now? Or do I have to tickle you again?" She said, wiggling her fingers at Luz.

Luz giggled at her fingers, swatting at her hands, "I'll be quiet, I might go to sleep anyways." She said, rubbing her eyes.

Eda just smiled and ruffled her hair. "Well, goodnight then, kid." She said, standing and unlocking the door.

"Goodnight." Luz said back with a yawn. Eda walked out and closed the door, taking a minute to appreciate the silence before going back downstairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#the owl house #the owl house tickle #luz noceda #edalyn clawthorne #lee!luz #ler!eda

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chinchongbingbong · 1 year

Text

Lee!Luz

Ler!Amity

Amity found out Luz biggest weakness and plans on using it to tease her

Warning! Tickle fiction so don't like that scroll away

At hexside....

"Alright hopefully this time it will work"Luz said but it didn't work instead Luz got trapped in a bunch of sticky goo on the wall

"OH COMON THE PROJECT IS TOMMOROW!Luz sighed and screamed for help but no one answered a few minutes later Amity came to find her because she missed there azura club "Luz! Are you okay?!?"Luz nodded"I need u to get my fire glyph in my pocket Ams"

"Luz can't I just use a fire spell?"

"Amity I prefer being alive then being ashes"

Amity laughed at the joke and then agreed to try finding her pocket

Amity slight touched Luz stomach "Ahahmity"Luz spitted out her mouth "Luz? Are u okay"

Luz didn't want Amity to find out her weakness so she didn't tell her and lied instead

Amity started to use both hands to find her pocket but again slightly tickles her but she didn't know that

"hehehamhaity"Amity knew something was up Amity touched Luz stomach but this time much more confident

"AHAHAHAMITYY"Luz shut her mouth immediately

"Is Luz ticklish??"Amity said in a tease Luz didn't say yes Amity decided to tickle her just to test it

"AAAHAHAHAHMITY NAHAHAOOO"

Amity smirked and continue u to tickle Luz "HAHAAHAHAH COHAHAAMOAHAHN AAAHHMAHAHITY"

Amity summoned a abomination "Abomination tickle Luz!"

The abomination reached Luz ribs and armpit

"NAHAHAOOO NAHAHOOTAHAH THAHAHERHAHAE!!"

"You're weak spot finally"

"AHAHAMITY HAHHAVE MEAHAHRCYHAHA PLEHAHAHSE"

The abomination stopped thanks to Amity's orders

Amity continued to tickle Luz and send some abomination goo to here tummy and her armpit for Amity's hands where on her ribs

Then she finally stopped due to Luz being tired and her abomination pulled Luz out of the sticky goo

"Amity ur mean"

"And your ticklish"

#ticklish!luz #Lee!luz #Ler!Amity

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cosmo-lexies · 9 months

Text

Midnight Rituals - 11. After School

Rosemary:

I could feel Lucas' eyes on my nape. It was clear that he wanted to say something but he was as cowardly as his friend.

"If you wanna say something, say it."

He was in silence behind my back and even so, I could see and hear his doubts

"Wha-at happens with Atticus?" He got the courage to open his mouth finally.

"He broke up with me, again," I said seriously.

It didn't hurt me anymore at that moment. I got the incredible skills to change sadness into anger in little time when a 6-year-old Atticus made fun of me at our birthday party because I thought that Pluto was a planet. He ridiculed me in front of many people and I started to cry but at that moment I found out it was smarter to make people pay than I'd cry.

"I'm sorry, I thought," he stopped suddenly.

"I don't think, I know he loves me. But he's behaving like an asshole and I don't understand why. Do you know something?" I asked turned my head back and looked at him.

He made a scared face. " Of-of cour-se-se not," he stunned.

I approached him and put my hand over his chest and looked at him angrily. "Lucas, do you have fear of me?"

He looked ahead trying to avoid my look. "Not," he said swallowing.

"You must. Now tell me anything you know, okay," I smiled at him.

"I-I don't re-e-lly know, but, I heard Atticus' father said you ar-aren't good for him the last mount when I was in their house."

I couldn't believe it. Mr. Santoro has been a good friend of my mom and me since I can remember. I always thought he adored me.

"Okay, c'mon. We have things to do."

I turned back and carried on my path to Mr.Rovers' office. It wasn't the moment to worry about Atticus and his issues.

Mr.Rovers is a wizard, the lower rung of magic society. A group of witches with such a low capacity to canalize magic that needs a wand and power rocks, without these they're basically humans. But, they're cheap, and for this reason, my mom took him to watch the school.

North Santo High is not like Blue Lake Academy, we have witches, shapeshifters, wizards, one stupid vampire, hybrids, humans, and some camouflaged creatures. There is a balance to keep and magic teenagers can be reckless. Mr. Rovers' job is basically to be our babysitter.

As I imagined the door had some protection spells, I could pierce them but I wasn't willing to lose half an hour. Lucas broke the door into pieces with only a hit. He was useful for this at least.

I searched inside the desk and there found crystals of quartz charged with earth energy. I didn't have enough magic for a barrier after the failed ritual, and the crystals would be a good substitute.

We went to the stands on the football field where Fenix and the asshole were waiting for us with a big metal bar.

"So, is your plan to stab the elemental?" I asked Fenix sarcastically.

Fenix:

"Not, it's a lightning rod," they looked at me as if I'd be crazy. "Electricity takes the path of least resistance, this is the path of least resistance instead of Atticus."

"It's a good idea. Finally, a friend who isn't incompetent," Rose said.

I'm not sure that this was praise for me or an insult to the rest of her friends. She approached me and made me turn around. I started to feel a tickle on my neck.

"What do you do?" I asked.

"A protection glyph. I don't want a bolt of lightning to kill you while put the quartz in the field," she said

"Wait, what? Not, he cannot get close to that thing. You are crazy, he can die." Lucas said worried. Worrying about me in this way seemed sweet on his part.

"Don't worry Lucas. I'm not sure you notice but I have a severe pathological contempt for my security. If I wouldn't do this I'd jump from a mountain or stick my nose in other witches' rituals," I joked trying to break the ice.

"That's supposed to calm me down," he yelled.

Atticus touched Lucas's shoulder "Dude, he's joking. You can be calm. If there is a lesson to learn from this day, it's that Fenix knows to take care of himself, maybe better than us."

Those were the words that I needed. I had lost control in the lab but I couldn't let it define me. I'm Fenix Walker and I can make all I want, I repeated in my head again and again. I had a strange sensation, between fear and excitement. Probably, I had never felt so alive in my sixteen years in this world as that moment.

Lucas seemed still worried, but Rose ended with me and went ahead to Lucas "Turn around," she said, and Lucas obeyed immediately. "I am not going to stretch out the arm," she said and Lucas squatted down in a funny way.

I approached the border of the stands to see the elemental. It kept going around for the field which was all burned. It was beautiful in a dangerous way. I had problems breathing for a second. Fortunately, Lucas couldn't see me, I didn't want to worry him more.

"Do you worry?" Atticus asked. I didn't notice that he had approached me from behind.

"Of course not," I lied. "You?"

"It's not easy to kill a lord vampire," he answered.

"By the way, thanks for before. This has been a long day," I said

"Not problem. This day has also been hard for me. I'm sorry to be so irascible with you."

"Atticus, here" Rose shouted angrily.

Atticus went to her and she started to make a glyph on his neck. I called Lucas to prepare him. He approached and I explained to him how the electric rod works. He only had to stick a little bar before approaching the elemental and then releasing the cable. Easy peasy!

Lucas:

I could smell his nervousness but at the same time, his attitude was so calmy that I was freaking out. He couldn't think seriously to get close to that monster.

"Okay. Now the protections," he said looking at me kindly." First, gloves,"

"You aren't going to do this," I said categorically and without thinking.

"Okay, why not?" He replied making a reproving face.

I made a song like a small roar, it wasn't voluntary. My bear was on the edge of taking control of me to obligate him to be sitting in a corner.

"This is dangerous, and I am not going to allow it."

"You cannot decide by me. Anyway, why are you so weird suddenly?" He took big plastic boots and gave them to me.

"Now, we are friends again. Wolfs protected their packs, it's our instinct."

He looked at me like something would have moved him. "Ohh, you are so sweet," he smiled "but you are a bear and bears are solitary animals."

He could be very intelligent, but he barely understood our nature. Our spirits had animal forms but they're completely animals in their behavior. Although I was born like a bear my father and brothers are all wolfs, and my spirit was connected with them independent of his form. My bear wanted to protect him as one of mine.

"I grew up by a wolf," I rejected his words. I wasn't in the mood to explain about shapeshifters at that moment.

"Well, then this has to do with instinct. It's cool to worry about me. I don't want you to get hurt either. For this reason, put on your boots."

I looked at the boots. "They are size seventeen, my feet are big but not so."

"Well, it's better if you are in your bear form. The fur is anti-electricity."

I turned and he made a small smile. It's not the reaction that you usually expect. People have bad reactions towards our intermediate form. Even between witches and vampires, a half-human half-animal being is horrific.

He turned around and headed to Rose and Atticus. I took his wrist carefully, I had a lot of strength in this form and I had to be careful if I didn't want to break his bounds.

"I'm speaking seriously. I'll not allow a friend to get hurt."

He looked into my eyes with a challenging and intense look. "Then you don't allow Atticus to participate in this plan, do you?"

"No-ot, I me-mean yes," I stuttered.

"Then, the problem is with me. I wanna make something clear to you. I can protect myself, Lucas." I let his wrist go and he turned again. "Friends protect one another, but you cannot decide for me."

He carried his path. I felt a strong sensation, something between frustration and satisfaction, which I don't know how to name it.

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