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outercrasis · 3 years

Text

Sessions

Pairing: College!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: None (let me know if I missed something!)

Summary: Everyone is talking about the mysterious new guy on campus

A/N: I had a ton of fun writing this extremely self-indulgent AU and I have plans to keep writing more about these two. It won’t be an actual chaptered fic, but at some point I’ll throw together a masterlist with a chronological order to things.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Introductions

The semester had only started four weeks ago and he was already a legend around campus. Almost everywhere someone could be found whispering about him. You'd even heard faculty speculating, wondering about the rumors they overheard their students sharing.

You first heard of him in your literature seminar, some of your fellow classmates discussing a recent rumor about the now fabled man. Something about a motorcycle and a child caught your ear, prompting you to interrupt and the girls in front of you who they were talking about.

The looks you received from the pair were incredulous at best. “You mean you haven’t heard about him?”

“Heard about who?” you asked, genuinely confused. It had only been the first week of class at the time and you were too caught up with your own busy start to check in on the rumor mill.

“Mando, obviously. He’s all anyone is talking about.” From there the girls had happily filled you in on all the latest sightings and rumors.

Mando, as they called him, was shrouded in mystery. He'd popped up on Corellia University's campus when the semester began and no one knew a thing about him. He hadn't gone to Corellia before, internet searches turned up nothing, and even the skull-like symbol on the back of his leather jacket wasn't familiar to anyone. Any information on him was conjecture at best and there was plenty to go around. Once the rest of the class caught onto what you three were discussing, theories began to fly.

People discussed how he’d been spotted downtown, beating on some guys in a back alley. He’d also been seen uptown the same night though, strolling through Basalt Park. One girl was nearly certain that she’d gone to elementary school with Mando, but he’d mysteriously disappeared one day without explanation. Someone else was confident he was just a cop trying some weird shtick to go undercover. Then one person insisted he had a kid with him sometimes while another was trying to explain that he was actually a murderer. The rumors only became more ludicrous from there.

By the end of the discussion you only ascertained two things for certain. He went by the name Mando and he wore some kind of special helmet. Information you could have gotten by watching him pick up a drink at the Java Hut. Not nearly enough to warrant this level of fervor in your opinion.

From there, hearing about Mando was inescapable. You got home that night only to have your roommate and best friend, Layla, launch into theories about him. Within the week someone set up a social media page to try and track his location around campus via DMs fellow students sent in. That had struck you as invasive and unsettling, but the messages about him kept flooding in.

By pure chance, you had yet to actually see him for yourself. There weren't even any creep shots for you to look at. People had been trying to take photos of him, but he was like a ghost. In the time it took them to pull up their cameras he'd disappear.

There wasn't even more concrete information about him beyond what you'd learned that first day. Just more and more speculation, a good amount of it made up purely for the shock factor. Another week slipped by, the semester picking up, and Mando news became standard in your day. There was always something new going around about him and as much as you tried to avoid it and focus on your studies, you couldn’t help but wonder about him yourself.

Who was this guy? Was this all some stunt or ‘social experiment’ that would be revealed by a sociology student at the end of the semester? Or was he a legitimate peculiarity, doomed to stick out like a sore thumb? You weren’t sure if you should hate him for making a big deal out of himself or pity him for all the unwarranted attention. Either way, you were sure that whenever you met this enigmatic Mando, you’d know.

×××××

You grumble looking at the submission form. The name and student ID information is blank again. You told Todd last week those fields needed to be made mandatory. How else were you supposed to know who to email when you end up with a no-show for the hour?

Looking further down you're pleased to note that they're at least a grad student. Despite the unfinished form, graduates almost never skip sessions like these. You're thrilled to have the opportunity to discuss something other than freshman composition for once. It's fun helping the wide-eyed freshies, but you can only go over basic comma rules so many times before you start to lose it a little.

There's a knock at the study room door and you look up only to be rendered speechless. It's him. Mando. With a kid on his hip. So Alissandra hadn’t been lying when she told you about the toddler she saw with him. Interesting. Continuing to take him in, you can’t help but focus on the obvious - the only thing you knew about him other than his supposed name, the helmet.

It’s unlike anything you've seen before. You're fairly certain it's a motorcycle helmet, but it's been modified. Rather than the typical rounded shape, his is all sharp angles and flat at the front. It’s colored a sleek, shining chrome that gleams under the washed out fluorescent lighting. Most arresting is the way he's changed the face of the helmet. The cheeks dip inward at a sharp angle, creating deep, curved contours. His visor is a T of black glass in the center, entirely impossible to see through. It's intimidating and… kinda hot?

The little boy he's holding starts to wiggle in his grasp, physically demanding to be set down in the study room. Once his feet touch the floor, he immediately runs over and climbs into the chair next to you. He's a welcome distraction from his father’s? brother's? guardian's? commanding presence in the room.

The boy can't be older than three, smiling up at you with a wide toothy grin. His hair is covered by a green beanie with large floppy ears sewn onto it and he's wearing a little brown jacket with a sherpa collar. Maybe a bit too heavy for the early autumnal weather, but if the rumor that the kid rides on a motorcycle with Mando is true, it’s perfect. His eyes are large and brown, shining up at you with a slightly mischievous glint.

"Hello, what's your name?" you ask, smiling back at the child.

"Grogu," comes the reply, not from the kid, but from Mando.

You arch an eyebrow at him. He can't be serious with that name. "Grogu?" you ask.

He shrugs, placing his bag on the table. "I came home one day and he told his babysitter that was his name now. He won't respond to anything else. So, Grogu."

You look back to the bouncing toddler. He's still grinning, nodding along with what's been said about his name. They must not be lying then. Either that, or it was some elaborate prank between them and you would never be in on the joke.

"Well okay, Grogu it is."

You extend your hand out to Mando, offering your name alongside it. He offers a leather clad hand in return, giving you a firm handshake. You're pleased when he only gives your hand a gentle squeeze, not crushing it like so many other students have done. His gloves are unique as well, black with orange fingers, the leather well worn in. It's warm to the touch, his body heat radiating through the thick fabric.

"Mando," he says, officially introducing himself as he takes the seat on your other side, across from Grogu.

"Mando," you repeat, cementing it as a truth from the rumor mill. "Got any other names?" You hope that comes across as casual and not intrusive. He hasn't even gone to remove his helmet, telling you he isn't a man who cares much for people prying into his business.

"No. Why?" Mando cocks his head slightly as he asks, the helmet adding an exaggerated look to the movement. He reaches into his bag, pulls out some crayons and a pad of paper, pushing them over to Grogu.

You shrug, trying not to think about how you heard his name might be David from someone in your composition course. "Just thought I'd ask. One hears many things around campus and it's hard to tell what's true or not."

"What do you mean?"

That question makes you pause. Surely he knows. Part of you is still convinced he’s doing this act on purpose, trying to gain notoriety for some reason. The way he asked though, something about it tells you that the poor man is clueless about the buzz he's caused.

"Mando, you're like the talk of the town right now. We only just met but I've heard plenty about you," you explain. It's hard to tell with the helmet on, but you're fairly sure he's shocked underneath. Grogu ignores you both, excitedly scribbling away on his paper.

"I'm fairly sure most of it's just rumor and speculation, but still. You're like a thing around campus," you add.

He's quiet for a moment, his laptop only half out of his bag. "Oh," he finally says. "I didn't know."

Grogu gives a happy shriek not a second later, breaking the awkward tension that had begun to creep into the room. He's beaming, holding up his crayola masterpiece. On the paper there is what appears to be a hastily drawn frog using every color in the box.

Mando returns to himself, pulling his laptop the rest of the way and continues to get set up. "Great job, kid. It looks good."

Most people would have said that dismissively, a platitude to get their child to stop bothering them. When Mando says it though, the authenticity is palpable. He said six words and you can hear the pride lacing them all together. It’s sweet, the obvious affection this clearly private man has for the toddler.

You can’t help but wonder what his connection to Grogu actually is. The way he spoke just then, if you had to put your money on it, you’d say father. The kicker then though is if he’s biological or not. And if not, then how else does a grad student get strapped with a three year old? Thinking about all the potential scenarios is enough to make your head hurt.

You’re also left wondering where all the more violent rumors about him are coming from. His tenderness is so readily on display that it’s hard to imagine the man before you choking someone because they cut him in line at the local froyo shop. He’s mysterious and gives off a vaguely dangerous vibe, sure, but less than five minutes around him and the kid and it’s obvious he’s no threat to you. He’s just a guy trying to get his assignments done for class, same as everyone else.

Your stomach still catches in your throat as Mando starts unexpectedly tugging off his gloves. From what you’d heard, he never takes anything off: not his jacket, not his gloves, and certainly not his helmet. All anyone knows of his true appearance on campus is that he’s obviously male with rumors flying around about everything else including simple attributes, like the color of his skin. Now, here he is, casually revealing this groundbreaking information to you.

His hands move fluidly, pulling off each glove in just a few easy tugs. His skin matches the heat you felt from them just minutes ago, a warm golden tan, with a few faded lines of scars worn in. Watching him type, pulling his paper up for you to discuss, you feel a deep and sudden ache to have his hands touch you again. A simple handshake is no longer enough. Every stroke of the keys is measured, deliberate, and leaves you wondering how he would use those fingers on you.

“This is what I have so far.”

His voice snaps you back to reality, a quick wave of shame washing over you. Where did all of that come from? It was just a man’s hands for heaven’s sake, certainly not something you should be horny about at two in the afternoon. Not to mention that he came in here looking for your help, not wanting you to start fantasizing about his hands expertly working you over.

You clear your throat and tear your eyes away from the offending appendages. “Great, let me just read the introduction here so I can get an idea for what you’re writing about.”

You settle into working with him easily. His paper is already well-written, just needing tweaks here and there to bring it to the next level. It’s nice working with him. He’s attentive, clearly listening to everything you have to say and taking it into account. He doesn’t even try to challenge you as some of the more macho male students are wont to do. By the end of the session, you can’t help but wish all of your time as a tutor was that easy.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely, tucking his laptop away. “You really helped.”

You smile at him, thrilled with his genuine complement. “Of course, that’s what I’m here for.”

He finishes packing up his and Grogu’s things, with you silently lamenting as his gloves slide back on. It still feels like a ridiculous thought, but he really does have beautiful hands. There’s a small tap on your arm and you look to your left to see Grogu patiently waiting. He’s offering something to you, paper outstretched in his little hands.

“Thank you,” you say, taking the sheet from him. You look at it to see a frog carefully drawn on the page. It’s not the same as the first one he showed you and Mando, this one more deliberate and thoughtful. The colors are still just as varied, but it’s obvious he took more time to think about where he was using each one. You can’t help but smile at his small masterpiece.

“It looks great, buddy. I’ll keep it forever,” you tell him. Grogu beams at your praise, excitedly looking over to Mando.

Mando nods at the kid. “Yeah kid, I heard her too.” He turns his head towards you. “Thank you again. I’d take good care of that drawing. He’ll never forgive you if he finds out you got rid of it.”

“Does that mean I’ll be seeing you again?” Your own boldness takes you by surprise. You have no idea where that came from, how those words spilled without a second thought. Part of you is already cringing at Mando’s potential reaction.

He surprises you once again though, holding a hand out for Grogu to take. Shouldering his backpack, you hear an amused huff of air from under the helmet. “Yeah, mesh’la, I’ll see you around.”

There isn’t a chance to reply as Mando turns, escorting his tiny charge out of the room with him. You’re a little dumbstruck, now equally surprised with him as you had been with yourself.

And what was that name he just called you? Mesh’la? You don’t even know what language that could have been, much less the meaning. Something about his tone when he said it tells you it’s a good thing though, that he’s not secretly calling you rude names in some unknown language. You can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever get to find out.

taglist: @honestly-shite

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x you #college!din #college!mando #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #mandocrasis fic #sessions

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silverynight · 3 years

Text

Protective

Izuku finds himself in the hospital again. It's definitely something he's gotten used to since he got in the UA; the only difference is that this time he almost dies.

His mother, All Might and his classmates go to see him a couple of times; Bakugo is oddly silent, standing in a corner with his arms crossed over his chest and looking anywhere but at Izuku while the others are telling him how worried they were.

Izuku wonders if Bakugo was brought there by Kirishima and Kaminari against his will and sighs with a fond smile on his face as he realizes that he's the same as always.

Choosing not to worry anymore about his childhood friend, Izuku looks up at Todoroki, who's trying his best to make him feel better even though he's not that good at it.

***

He returns to his classes pretty soon, he's not allowed to train or exercise the first couple of days though it's the last thing in his mind at the moment. Izuku is just so happy to be back.

It takes him a while to notice that something is not quite as it used to be. At first Izuku thinks it's just because he's giving Bakugo the space he was constantly begging for since things turned out bad for their relationship when they were just kids, but it's just that everything has gotten considerably more quiet because Bakugo has stopped growling and insulting him at all.

But that's not the weirdest thing that happens.

It begins when he's walking next to Iida, Uraraka and Todoroki back to Heights Alliance when a boy runs towards them (he's clearly in a hurry so he doesn't seem to be paying attention to his surroundings) and bumps into Izuku, prompting him to fall to the ground.

"Ouch!" He can't help but yelp.

Quickly, Todoroki asks if he's alright and offers him a hand.

"Hey! Be careful!" Uraraka is already hissing at the boy, but he looks so concerned that she calms down immediately.

"I'm so sorry!" The boy mumbles again.

"It's alright." Izuku grins at him at the same time Iida starts giving the boy a speech about rules and security.

And that's when it happens. The boy is suddenly grabbed by the shirt, a strong hand quickly slamming him against the nearest wall.

He's terrified and honestly Izuku doesn't blame him. Bakugo has that effect on almost everyone even when he's not that angry.

But now... Now he's livid.

"I SAW HIM FALL, YOU FUCKING EXTRA!" Bakugo roars, baring his teeth at the poor, terrified soul. "Now... If he has ONE scratch on his body because of you then consider yourself dead..."

"I didn't mean t-to!" The boy stammers, unable to control the way he's trembling.

It's the little explosions coming from Bakugo's open hand what make Izuku react; his friends are probably as shocked and confused as him because they haven't say a word.

"Kacchan, stop! I'm fine!" Izuku takes a step closer which prompts the grumpy blond to glance in his direction. "Don't hurt him! It was an accident! He apologized already!"

Bakugo's eyes roam all over Izuku's body before snarling at the pale boy. He huffs and releases him though, prompting him to fall on the ground.

"You're lucky," He tells the other student before the boy runs away.

Iida starts scolding Bakugo for his behavior but the blond ignores him completely and gets closer to Izuku. With one hand he grabs the green haired boy by the chin.

"You better not be lying to me, Deku," he warns him. "Are you really not hurt?"

"Not even a scratch, uhh–"

Todoroki slaps Bakugo's arm away from Izuku; the boy narrows his mismatched eyes at him.

"That's enough, Bakugo. You'll be the one hurting Midoriya if you keep like–"

Bakugo growls; he's fuming. His red eyes are almost glowing with rage.

"I'M NOT HURTING HIM! I WON'T HURT HIM, YOU HALF AND HALF BASTARD! THAT'S WHAT YOU THINK?"

"Based on what I've heard about your relationship, wouldn't be the first time, would it?"

This time the blond doesn't have an answer. Actually, he looks like he's been hit across the face.

Instead of the explosive rage Izuku is used to see in him, Bakugo freezes and looks at the ground.

"Kacchan, Todoroki..."

But Bakugo just shakes his head and walks away.

***

Izuku grins the first day back at the gym; Cementoss has prepared the place for them to train and he can't wait to use OFA again. He needs to practice if he wants to keep up with the rest of the class.

Above him, he hears a couple of explosions and a growl; Bakugo has fallen for the third time in the day, Izuku has no idea what's happening to him, it's not like him to fail so many times.

He considers running towards him to see if he's alright, but remembers all the times Bakugo has slapped his hand away and snarled at him, claiming he didn't ask for help. So Izuku, feeling like a terrible person, decides to leave it to the teachers.

"Focus, Bakugo!" Aizawa scolds him and upon hearing the irritation in his voice Izuku knows the blond isn't actually injured. "You're very distracted today. It's not your job to keep an eye on–"

"I'M NOT DISTRACTED!"

Izuku rolls his eyes and goes back to the spot he chose to train.

"Hey, be careful!" Someone above him screams.

However, when he sees the pieces of cement falling towards him, Izuku doesn't move. There's a grin on his face as he gets ready to use Full Cowl in order to get rid of the huge fragments before they hit him.

Sadly, someone pushes him away and they both end up on the ground, although Izuku notices that strong arms have managed to shield most of his body from the impact.

"Wha–cchan?"

Bakugo doesn't utter a word, he's lying on Izuku but untangles himself from him quickly. He's on his hands and knees to support his own weight, but doesn't move away from him.

"Kacchan, I was going to–"

A hand is on Izuku's cheek now, however it's surprisingly gentle.

"Are you hurt?"

It has happened before, but it's still odd to hear Bakugo using his voice not to yell; it sounds almost soft and... vulnerable.

Like he's worried.

"I'm fine," Izuku hears himself answer, still confused.

Bakugo looks like he desperately wants to say something else, but he's suddenly yanked away.

"I warned you, Bakugo," Aizawa scolds him. "You're banned from the gym for the rest of the day."

"WHAT? AREN'T HEROES SUPPOSED TO SAVE PEOPLE?"

"Midoriya was going to take care of that himself," Aizawa retorts. "You've been distracted the whole day, trying to protect him even though he doesn't need it. You need to learn to trust him more, he's a hero in training too after all."

Everyone has stopped to watch the interesting but confusing scene in front of them. Izuku feels completely lost.

Bakugo looks at the ground, his eyes are shadowed by his own hair so no one can't see his expression at the moment. He whispers something to the teacher that no one is able to hear.

"I know... I understand," Aizawa mumbles, softening a little bit. "But if you keep like this you'll only get both of you hurt."

After saying that, he drags the boy away. There's an uncomfortable silence that follows and everyone turns their heads to stare at Izuku like he has the answer to that particular puzzle.

Fortunately, Cementoss scolds them for stopping and they all go back to train.

***

After the incident in the gym, everyone knows something's going on with Bakugo. The problem is that some of them already have a few theories about it.

"What are you going to do now that Bakugo is acting like your overprotective boyfriend?" Uraraka gets closer to his seat, prompting Izuku to almost jump and turn bright red.

Fortunately, Bakugo hasn't arrived yet.

"He's not," Izuku whispers, feeling the blush quickly spreading down his neck.

"I guess you really scared him that last time you went to the hospital," Uraraka continues like Izuku hasn't said a word. "Well, to be fair, you scared all of us."

"I'm sorry."

"Just be more careful, alright?"

Izuku smiles at her, putting a hand over hers when a protein bar falls over his desk a little bit aggressively.

"Grabbed this for you at the cafeteria, Deku," Bakugo growls, glaring at Uraraka as he sits in front of his own desk. "I don't think you'll manage to surpass me anytime soon if you keep coming to class on an empty stomach."

Oh. He's right, Izuku didn't have breakfast that morning... However, he had no idea that Bakugo noticed.

"T-Thanks," he mumbles, feeling suddenly flustered; he refuses to look at Uraraka.

"Whatever!" Bakugo turns around. "Eat it before Aizawa arrives though."

***

"I think you should talk to him," Uraraka tells him, hours later. They're in Todoroki's room, studying for their upcoming English test.

"Don't," Todoroki chimes in, prompting the girl to narrow her eyes at him. "I don't trust him."

"Kacchan is not bad," Izuku says, sighing when the boy with mismatched eyes quirks up a brow at him. "He really isn't. And you know it, he's helped you a couple of times."

"Because he wants to win."

"That's what he says, but he doesn't really mean it."

"He worries about you," Uraraka adds, with a smirk on her face. Izuku tries not to shake his head at her; it looks like she hasn't abandoned her theory after all.

"He's not the only one that worries about Midoriya," Todoroki protests, although his expression softens when he looks back at Izuku.

"I know," Izuku smiles at him before rising from his spot on the floor. "But Uraraka's right, I got to talk to him."

"Fine," Todoroki sighs. "I'll see you tomorrow."

***

When he's right outside Bakugo's door though, Izuku has second thoughts.

"Are you going to talk to him?" Kirishima rushes down the hallway, startling Izuku. "Please do, he really needs it. He's been worried about you since... that day. He was... devastated."

Oh. So it is because of that after all.

Izuku takes a deep breath, nods at Kirishima who grins at him encouragingly. When he knocks at the door, the boy with red hair vanishes.

"I TOLD YOU I DON'T WANT TO GO OUT, KAMINARI! IF YOU KNOCK THAT DOOR AGAIN I'LL–"

"It's me! Deku!" Just seconds after he says it, the door opens. Bakugo is already staring at him from head to toe.

Before he can say anything though, the blond grabs him by the arm, pulls him inside and closes the door behind them.

"What is it? Are you hurt?

Only then Izuku notices the shadows under Bakugo's eyes. He looks really tired.

"No. I'm f-fine. I just wanted to talk to you."

"About what?"

There it is, same old Bakugo, acting aggressive as soon as someone tries to mention feelings.

"About this." Izuku points at the space between the two. Curiously, there's not much at the moment. "You're worried about me."

Bakugo looks at the floor, hands quickly turning into fists; Izuku knows he's going to yell at him that he's NOT WORRIED AT ALL and he'll probably scream at him to get out of his room.

But none of that happens.

"I am," the blond admits instead, voice rough. "And it's killing me. I can't stop it."

"Hey," Izuku mumbles softly. He takes Bakugo's face in his hands and to his surprise, the boy just lets him. His eyes are red, like it's taking every single bit of his strength not to cry. "It's alright. I worry about you too. It's okay to worry about your friends."

Bakugo grimaces at the word "friends" and Izuku feels a little bit sad when realizes he doesn't want to consider him his friend.

"I have nightmares about you... About that day, about you in the hospital," Bakugo flinches at his own words. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"I can't promise you I won't," Izuku whispers, holding back a chuckle when he notices Bakugo leaning closer to him. "But I can promise I will try to be more careful."

"Let me protect you, let me help you..."

"When I really need it and only if you let me do the same for you."

Izuku swears that for a moment he can see the pride shading those red eyes before he pushes it away.

"Alright. It's a deal."

"It is," Izuku agrees with a smile. He moves away quickly, realizing that it's getting late. "Well–"

"Stay," Bakugo blurts out, cheeks turning slightly pink when he realizes what he just said.

Thinking this is probably about the nightmares, Izuku nods and then, to push away the nervousness he's feeling, he mumbles:

"Of course... Like when we were kids..."

Except that this is completely different, because Izuku's heart is beating like crazy inside his chest as he moves as far away as he can from Bakugo.

However, he's so tired he falls asleep quickly.

When he wakes up he finds himself facing Bakugo, face buried in his chest because strong arms are stubbornly keeping him that way.

Izuku blushes, trying to gently escape from the embrace, but the only thing he manages after pushing the other away is to make Bakugo growl and pull him even closer to him.

And of course, because that's just what happens whenever Izuku gets involved, the door opens suddenly and Kaminari rushes in excitedly, followed by a concerned Kirishima.

"Bakugo! Wake up it's–"

"Sorry! I told Kaminari that it wasn't manly to get in other people's room without– Midoriya?"

Izuku groans as he covers his face with both hands. He feels like he's burning.

"Congratulations, Bakugo!" Kaminari smirks at him, making everything worse. "I always thought Midoriya was really cute and–"

"No!" Izuku protests immediately. "It's not like–"

"WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT KNOCKING FIRST? GET OUT, BOTH OF YOU!" Bakugo growls, however, he doesn't move his hands away from Izuku nor he tries to explain what it's really happening.

Kirishima nods and he does pull Kaminari by the shirt, but he is still grinning as he moves towards the entrance.

"I'm really happy for you, man!"

"This is not what you think..." It's too late for Izuku to explain though, because they're already gone.

Bakugo doesn't explode anymore after that, he doesn't try to kick Izuku off his bed, instead he closes his eyes and buries his face in the curve of Izuku's neck.

"Kacchan... I need to go."

"Why? It's Saturday..."

"I promised Todoroki I'll go with him to the mall so I can help him get a present for his mom."

"He can do it himself," Bakugo argues, looking back at Izuku.

"I promised!"

"Fine, but I'm coming with. Because after that we'll have our first date."

There is too much for Izuku to process in a few seconds, so he just blinks, nods and watches as Bakugo moves off the bed and towards the bathroom.

"I'll take a shower first. I'll wait for you outside your dorm."

Izuku nods again, realizing that he's really looking forward to their date, even though part of him thinks it's not really a good idea.

***

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#bkdk #bakudeku #bnha #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #izuku midoriya

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animatedarchives · 4 years

Note

Can I request an imagine where midoriya cheats on the reader and bakugo finds her crying in the halls and is there for her and they grow a romantic relationship? Lots of angst and fluff pls! Thank u!

author’s note: hi dear, yes you absolutely can!! i love soft katsuki and i’m so sorry if this is not what you wanted but i hope you like it!! <3

TRUST FALL

— 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈

genre: angst at first, fluff at the end :>

warnings: mentions of cheating

word count: 1.2k words

“Izuku… Why?”

“I’m sorry Y/N… I didn’t know how to tell you…”

“Am I not good enough? Is that it? Is that why you cheated on me? Is there someone better?”

“I… I’m sorry Y/N…”

“Wait, don’t leave! Izuku, wait! Please! Please…”

You’ve been replaying the conversation over and over in your head for the past hour, each time failing to find the answer to your question.

Why? Why did you leave me?

The poor condition of the abandoned hallway you were in mirrored your despair; paint peeling off the walls, windows coated with grime and the dusty ground on which you sat in melancholy.

You leaned your head back against the wall, desperately trying to pull yourself together. You felt and looked like an absolute wreck. Your hair that was perfectly styled this morning was now disheveled, acting as a curtain that attempted to shield you from the hurts of the world. The trails on your cheeks held traces of all the tears you had shed. Your throat was parched for water and your eyes burned from the overproduction of saline.

Well, at least no one is here to see you like thi-

“Oi.”

Crap.

“What the hell are you doing here, sitting on the floor like a damn idiot?”

You have got to be joking. The universe just had to give you someone you knew. You shifted your body so that your back was facing him and swiftly wiped your eyes in a pitiful attempt to hide your misery.

“Oi! Don’t ignore me when I’m talking to you, shitface!” he spat.

“Dammit, Bakugo! Can you just mind your own business and leave me the hell alone?” you yelled over your shoulder.

You’ve never been very close to Bakugo and usually just tried to avoid him. It wasn’t because you hated him - because you didn’t - but you weren’t exactly very fond of him either. You just never appreciated the way he treated your now ex-boyfriend. Being fiercely protective of him, you were always the first one to come to Izuku’s defence and never backed down from a fight - whether verbal or physical - even if it was against Bakugo, one of the strongest, most hot-headed people in class. After multiple scoldings from Iida and your teachers, you decided it would be best to just avoid him altogether.

Eventually, as time went on and your relationship with Izuku began to get more serious, Bakugo’s bullying began to cease and he also started to keep his distance from the two of you. You found it slightly unusual at first, given he had years to stop picking on Izuku but chose not to until now. You weren’t complaining though. Whenever you and Izuku were together, you would also catch him glaring daggers at the two of you, more so at Izuku, but he never approached. You knew it wasn’t because he was afraid of you - he was hardly afraid of anything. Could it be that he possibly respected you for standing up to him? Your curiosity reaped no answers. Not that you cared much, but it would be a lie to say you weren’t interested in knowing the reason for his change in behaviour.

After your outburst, Bakugo’s footsteps stopped about three metres away from your curled up body, letting a tense silence settle between you. Even with your back turned, you could feel his eyes locked on your frame, watching your every move.

“Look, I don’t know what your damn problem is but if you think you can tell me what to do, you’d better think again,” his voice dripping with annoyance.

Oh my god, why was he so persistent? Could he not just go away? Your blood started to boil and the heat rushed to your face.

“Stop acting so weak and pathetic-”

“YOU KNOW WHAT BAKUGO,” you snapped, standing up and finally facing him. Bakugo’s eyes widened slightly as he took in the sight of your tear-stained face, but he didn’t look away. “YOU’RE RIGHT. MAYBE THAT REALLY IS WHAT I AM. WEAK AND PATHETIC.”

Bakugo opened his mouth but you cut him off.

“I’m constantly there for others and I always try to give everyone my all but in the end, who’s there for me? No one! I’m always the one that’s suffering, but people don’t notice because no one actually stops to think about me!”

“But Deku-”

“IZUKU CHEATED ON ME!” your cries echoed down the empty hallway. Hearing yourself say it out loud finally cemented the reality you were denying for so long. A lump started to form in your throat and you could feel your eyes starting to well up with tears again.

Bakugo’s body became stiff, a million thoughts running through his mind. You could have sworn you saw his eyes flash with anger, but you couldn’t see clearly through the thin film impairing your vision.

You choked out a sob. “I thought that someone had finally accepted me, finally acknowledged that I was worthy of being loved. But in the end, even the person I gave my everything to thought I wasn’t good enough.” You inhaled deeply and let out a shaky breath. You couldn’t cry in front of him. You wouldn’t. A wave of exhaustion finally hit you and you slid back down against the wall, curling into a ball and resting your chin on your knees. You were just so tired of everything.

“I don’t even know why I’m telling you this,” you laughed bitterly. “It’s not like you even care anyway.” You watched as an ant crawled across the space between you and Bakugo. Even ants had a colony, others they could depend on. And you? You had nobody.

“I do.”

Your train of thought came to a screeching halt as his words reached your ears. Your eyebrows furrowed and you raised your head to look up at him through your wet lashes. You had been here for so long that the sun was beginning to set, bathing Bakugo in a soft peachy glow.

“What?” you asked.

He looked at you straight in the eye, unflinching.

“I said I do,” he repeated. “I do care. About you.”

You blinked at him once. Twice. Three times. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Bakugo Katsuki, the last person in the world you thought you would be pouring your heart out to, just said he cared about you.

“Don’t lie,” you scoffed.

“Tch, I’m not lying, you idiot. You just don’t want to accept it,” he replied flatly.

Well, how could you? Words were just words after all. Izuku consistently told you that he loved you and still he shattered your heart. Trusting people just wouldn’t be so easy anymore. Your disbelief became apparent when you broke his gaze and pulled your knees closer to your chest.

He let out an exasperated sigh. “You never let me finish, by the way,” he said. You made no move to respond, but you were listening to every word he was saying, weighing the sincerity of each one.

“I said stop acting so weak and pathetic, not because you are, but because it is everything you are not.”

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe him so bad but you couldn’t find the heart to.

“You have never backed down when it came to protecting Deku against me. You weren’t afraid to stand up and challenge me. In fact, you are always at the frontlines, defending people you care so deeply about. That doesn’t make you weak. It shows that you’re strong. Putting others before yourself is a trait that every great hero has. And I admired you for that. A lot.”

Your mind was whirring. Not only were the things he was saying difficult to believe, but the words coming out of Bakugo's own mouth being anything but foul was so terrifyingly uncharacteristic of him that you couldn’t possibly believe it was true.

“Which is why…” he muttered, so softly that you almost didn’t catch it. You waited for him to finish his sentence but he never did.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye and saw him looking at the floor. You had never seen Bakugo this vulnerable before. Oh, how the tables had turned.

“Which is why…?” you urged him to continue. You weren’t sure if it was the radiant sun that gave a reddish tint to his cheeks or if you were actually witnessing the infamously brash Bakugo Katsuki blushing.

“Which is why I li…” he mumbled, the end of his sentence dissipating due to lack of articulation.

“Why what?” you asked again, mildly irritated that he wouldn’t just spit it out.

He groaned loudly.

“WHICH IS WHY I LIKE YOU, DAMMIT!” he finally admitted, raising his voice as he turned to look straight at you.

Your eyes widened so much you thought your eyeballs were going to pop out of their sockets. You didn’t even bother hiding the shock on your face. This was simply incomprehensible.

But the more you mulled it over, the more it started to make sense. The explanation for Bakugo’s behaviour towards you and Izuku could finally be explained: he was jealous. Seeing you with anyone but himself infuriated him, especially if it was the boy who was effortlessly gaining everything he had ever wanted. That was why Bakugo continued tormenting Izuku, only he never expected it would be you that he would end up fighting as you stepped in to defend your boyfriend. As your relationship became more serious, Bakugo was forced to step back out of respect, but he never stopped glowering whenever he saw you two together. The reason he stopped tormenting Izuku was not because he was afraid of you, nor was it because he respected your determination to defend the boy you loved. It was because it would break his heart to be the cause of your distress. Everything he did… was because of you.

“WELL? Don’t just give me that stupid look! Say something!” he shouted in frustration, desperate for an answer.

Part of you felt relieved to see Bakugo return to his familiar aggressive self, but another part somehow knew that he was only doing it to cover up the fact that he was deeply embarrassed. The thought made a small smile tug at the corner of your lips. You valued the fact that he trusted you enough to let his guard down.

And you wanted to trust him too. But with everything that had happened, you just weren’t sure if you were ready to put your heart on the line again. Your eyebrows knitted together in concentration as you tried to form a coherent string of words that could accurately express everything you thought and felt.

He watched intently as you bit your lower lip and fiddled nervously with the hem of your skirt. Although the suspense was eating him alive, he respected the fact that you needed to collect your thoughts and waited patiently for your answer. Besides, it meant that you were seriously considering his confession, which was all he could have hoped for. Finally, you got to your feet and made your way over to him, his crimson eyes never leaving yours.

“Bakugo…” you started gently. He might have seemed collected on the outside, but his heart was beating impeccably fast and his anxiety levels were off the charts.

“I really appreciate your honesty but… I’m just really unsure. It’s not that I don’t want to trust you but…” you exhaled shakily. “I’m just scared. I can’t just keep giving my heart to people I’m not sure would treasure it… I just can’t. I need to protect myself too. I don’t want my heart to get broken again. I-”

He grabbed your face and pressed his lips against yours, cutting you off. Caught by surprise, you weren’t sure how to respond. But as he kissed you, you could feel how much he meant every single thing he said. Suddenly, they weren’t just words anymore.

The kiss was soft and gentle as if he were afraid to hurt you, especially when you were already in so much pain. Yet, he never lacked passion, because he wanted to prove how true his feelings were for you. But above all, the kiss… his love…

It was sincere.

Genuine.

Honest.

You melted into the kiss, hesitant at first but slowly willing to give love another try.

Bakugo broke the kiss and leaned back to admire the face he thought was so beautiful. His strong hands traced down your face to your shoulders and finally came to a rest at your arms, rubbing your skin soothingly.

“You’re right, you know. You can’t just give your heart to people. If you do, you’re bound to get heartbroken,” he said.

You frowned and stared forlornly at your feet, unsure of what to say. You knew he was right but you couldn’t help it. All you ever wanted was to be loved. To matter to someone.

“Which is why,” he took your chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting your head up to look at him. For the first time, you saw his eyes up close. They weren’t the blazing hot embers everyone associated with his rageful and dangerous behaviour. Right now, under the warmth of the setting sun, they were the soft comfort of red satin that whispered a love so pure, you couldn’t help but feel enraptured by them. His eyes burned, but it was far from malicious. They burned with desire for one thing alone.

You.

“I will do whatever it takes to earn it.”

1K notes · View notes

miracle-sham · 3 years

Text

Yet So Poison Entwined We Fracture.

| {Jasonette July 2021, Saturday Challenge 1: Hurt No Comfort} |

| It all went wrong so quickly. Marinette thought she could trust Jason, that he'd never betray her. And Jason thought the same. But with a truth-serum turned poison seeping through their veins, neither had thought to look for the purple feathers. |

| Word Count: 1,706. |

———

| A/N: I'll try and keep this short and sweet but it's nice to dip back into writing for Maribat, I really missed it whilst I was gone. Also I've now got a author's channel in MGI where I sometimes put title sneak peaks, snippets, and random au ramblings, so y'know feel free to pop into the channel and have a gander if you'd fancy! And one last thing, keen eyes may have noticed I've added a Spotify Playlist Link, it contains all the songs I listened to when working on this oneshot, if you're curious! |

| If you want to be tagged in future oneshots/fics or a specific Au, then feel free to send me a dm and or ask! |

| Also side note, Don’t Like? Don’t Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

———

Marinette staggers back, clutching at her bloodied side as the world spins for a moment and everything blurs. Breath catches in her throat as a sharp pang of betrayal pierces her heart, tears springing to the corners of her eyes unbidden. Whimpering, she barely manages to cry out, “J–Jason?”

Heartbreak coating his name like the truth serum-poison making its way through her system at this very moment.

She makes an awful choking noise and collapses to her knees, scrunching her face up and wheezing. Barely is she able to keep her eyes open, fixated on staring at someone she thought she could trust.

Smirking lazily, Jason saunters up to her, crouches and then grabs her face by the chin, forcing her to tilt her head up to continue staring at him in the eyes. “Aw, did you really fucking think I cared about you this entire time?”

Marinette swallows thickly—unable to conjure up a response to him. Black spots start to form in the corner of her vision like watching a spattering of embers burning away on a piece of paper.

He tilts his head to the side and snorts, “really? Nothing to say, no heartfelt "I trusted you!" or "you're lying!". Not even a "I know the real you is still in there?", how fucking pathetic.”

There's a small part of her brain that starts flashing red lights and wailing alarms—warning her that she's in danger, that she's hurt, that she's stopped breathing. She can't breathe, can't move, can't say anything or she'll spill all her remaining secrets.

Jason sighs and drops her chin. “And here I fucking thought your shitty-ass reaction to me betraying you would be more fun.”

Grimacing, she waits a heartbeat after he lets go before mustering all her strength to slam her skull into his—if I'm going down, you're coming with me for this, Marinette mentally vows.

There's a horrendous thwacking sound as the impact lands, and Marinette feels as though her brain has turned into a blender that just had its blades snap mid blend.

Jason, on the other hand, flings himself backwards and curses up a storm. He pulls out one of his guns and with dizzying vision, manages to shoot a bullet that just clips the uninjured side of her ribs. “That's what you fucking get for that you bitch!”

Marinette doubles over as the pain seems to ricochet through her; vision blacking out completely. She struggles for breath, her hearing cutting off not a second later. Objectively, she's aware she's not alone. But as her senses shut down one by one, leaving her helplessly trapped in her own mind, she can't help but wonder why her heart aches with loneliness. I'm sorry, she silently apologises to no one and everyone.

Distantly, she thinks she's swaying—or collapsing again maybe. But it's hard to tell, it's disorientating trying to focus on the world with dying senses.

Marinette is lost. Every little movement, every little thought—it's agony, a struggle to keep going, keep holding on. Once more, she silently pleas for forgiveness from the kwami.

She stops.

Stops breathing. Heart stops beating. Stops fighting. It all stops.

At least this way, she thinks to herself, I can't spill any secrets from the truth serum-poison if I carry them to the grave instead…

She sinks into the darkness, clinging to her final thought in numb relief as she does so. Everything fades away.

———

Jason groans as the knife Marinette is wielding digs deeper between his ribs.

She doesn't move back immediately, so he grits his teeth and roundhouse kicks at her—the heavy thump of collision makes his wound burn like acid has just been poured on it.

He's a few seconds too slow pulling his leg back, as Marinette slices the knife through his calf.

“Fuck!” He bites out, throwing himself further out of her range and breathing. “Marinette!”

With the gall to smile faux-innocently, she plays with the knife in her hand, slipping it between her fingers and swirling it about. “Yes, Jason?”

“The fuck are you doing!?” He growls, shifting his position when she doesn't move to apply pressure to the calf wound.

She shrugs, seemingly unbothered, “what? Did you really think this wouldn't happen one day? That I wouldn't get sick of you. Show you just how much you've hurt me the entire time we've known each other?”

Jason spits blood from his mouth at the warehouse floor in front of her. “I don't believe whatever shit you're being made to spew, but I sure as fucking hell know that you'd never do something as fucked up as this.”

“Oh, that's cute! You still believe in me. What's next, are you going to beg me to come to my senses? Are you going to cry my name and hope it changes my mind? Are you going to declare that the "real" me is still there inside and that you're going to save me?” Marinette giggles, high-pitched and yet hollow sounding.

Jason flinches at the sound, breathing stuttering as the poison from her knife starts to really seep in. Shit, he thinks to himself, truth serum-poison. If I'm not careful I'm gonna say shit that should stay secret.

A flash of silver catches the edge of his vision. And it's all the warning he gets. He immediately ducks and rolls, cursing under his breath as his wounds are aggravated. The air by his hair swooshes as the blade just narrowly misses.

Marinette giggles taper off into a hiss of fury. Her hair slips out of her pigtails from the constant movement, and multiple strands fall in front of her face. She huffs, ineffectively blowing them out of the way. “Did you really think I ever loved you?”

“Yes!” The words are choked out of his mouth before he can even think, the truth serum-poison kicking in hard and fast. Jason wheezes and the taste of iron lingers like malice in his throat. Fuck, he thinks desperately, I'm running out of time and Marinette isn't snapping out of whatever the fuck's been done to her.

He stumbles into another roll, as the blade comes swinging at him again. His vision blurts violently, and the next thing Jason knows—is that his view has suddenly tipped upside down and that there's a throbbing ache radiating from the back of his shoulders and head.

“Huh, you really do have a thick skull. Normally that'd be enough to knock anyone else out. Well, I guess I'll have to do this the old fashioned way.” Marinette rambles, pulling out a rag.

Jason grunts as he pushes himself only to be slammed back into the concrete warehouse floor, rag pressed firmly over his mouth and nose.

He thrashes and refuses to inhale. Marinette scowls and kicks him sharply into the ribs, causing him to gasp through gritted teeth. But it's enough to affect him.

His vision teeters then flickers to black, he can feel his movements slowing—becoming more and more sluggish until he's as still as he was in that fucking coffin he's had to crawl out of once before. At least, he barely manages to cling to the final thought, I can't spill any secrets if I carry them to the grave once more.

And then it all fades away.

———

Lila steeples her finger and smirks. She's sitting in her plain white office for the Agreste, three monitors set up before her on the desk. The middle screen shows her emails and a few tabs up on fashion for work-related reasons. The outer two screens, however, show the feed to two identical cells—two by four by five metres with cement floors and grey brick walls, no windows and a single plain black metal door. No furniture either, not even beds or toilets, just chains attached to the wall opposite the door. And in the chains is what has Lila so very happy indeed; Marinette and Jason, one in each cell and both stuck in the chains with no hope for escape.

A steady pool of blood has already formed beneath the both of them, thanks to the wonderful work of her Sentimonster duplicates of the two.

Lila can't help but monologue in her glee, “It's so excellently simple really. Even if one escapes, there's no way they'll help the other escape now. Now they've experienced the pain of betrayal and torture inflicted by the other!”

Footsteps approach the door to her office; all it takes is a quick click and click of the mouse and her two outer screen feeds flip to showing more work-related tabs and emails.

The door opens to reveal Adrien, slightly dishevelled—hair and shirt ruffled, eyes red with dark bags beneath them, and shiny tear streaks down his cheeks—he stands in the threshold, shaking. “Did you know?”

Lila smiles in fake confusion. “Know what?”

Adrien swallows, gaze flickering to her screens. “Marinette's dead. So is Jason.”

Lila tilts her head to the side to make it look as though she's thinking. “The Wayne boy that was close to her, right? Oh dear.”

His tired gaze turns back to Lila as he continues. “They think both of them were kidnapped and tortured separately. Police have found traces of an altered truth-serum among the bloodstains and…” He chokes for a second, grief plain as day across his face. “and they found pieces of fingers, ears, slices of skin, and all.”

“Oh, oh, that's horrible!” Lila gasps, covering her mouth with her hands to hide the victorious curl forming on her lips. “Have they found out who was cruel enough to do that to them yet?”

Adrien shakes his head silently.

“Hopefully, the culprit will be found soon. But if you need any support, I'll always be here for you, Adrien!” Lila gravely announces, bobbing her head slightly as she spoke.

He narrows his eyes at her, shakes his head, and then stalks away from her office.

She scowls as soon as his back turns and gets up to shut her door. “Well,” She says to herself as she flips back to the cell feed, “at least that means I'll have plenty of time to pull the secrets from you two without the police thinking to look for you alive.”

———

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little oneshot! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

| Also feel free to send me any asks or comments with any questions you have regarding this oneshot, I'll be more than happy to answer! |

| @jasonette-july-event |

#Maribat #DC x MLB #MLB x DC #Jasonette #Jasonette July #JasMari #MariJay #Marinette x Jason #Jason x Marinette #Jasonette July 2021 #Jasonette July Saturday Challenge #Jasonette July Hurt No Comfort #Yet So Poison Entwined We Fracture #YSPEWF #Sham's Posts #Sham's Writing #Sham's Fics

36 notes · View notes

polaroid15 · 3 years

Text

Febuwhump day 26 - Recovery

Summary: Healing takes time. And that’s okay.

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29138196/chapters/73102269

----

It’s been twelve days.

Twelve excruciating days.

After all this time, Tony’s still not sure of much. He doesn’t know who took them, or where they are. All he knows is that they want answers to questions he can’t give and that Peter is suffering for it.

They bring the kid back three hours after they take him. Two armed guards drag Peter’s limp form in by the armpits and Tony screams and jerks himself against the chains pinning him to the wall in his desperation to reach him. Through his fear and pain, however, he feels a slight release in his chest. An ease, a peace, because again, for today, Peter is still alive.

“Have you changed your mind?” one of the guards asks. His voice is deep and mechanical, his identity concealed by a thick metal mask.

And it kills him. He’s seconds from breaking.

He wants it to be over.

For Peter to be safe.

But if he tells them what they want to know, thousands of people will die.

“No.” It’s nearly impossible to verbalize.

“Very well.”

And they leave.

Peter is still where he lays on the floor, face down and bleeding. Tony bites back a sob as he takes in the kid’s worsening state. He’s thinner than he had been, his metabolism no match for the scarcity of their food and covered from head to toe in lacerations. There’s thick bruising on his wrists and ankles, on his neck. Electric burns on his arms and dozens of injuries that Tony can’t see through the kid’s clothes but knows nonetheless that are there.

“P-Peter. Bud. Can you hear me?”

His fearful voice carries, splinters, and is met with silence. He pulls harder against the chains holding him in place, wanting nothing more than to reach Peter’s side. “Peter. Wake up kiddo. Let me know that you’re okay.”

Peter shifts, groans, sobs. It’s hard to see through the darkness of their cell but when Peter’s eyes open they’re distant and confused, and Tony knows that they drugged him again.

To keep the brat docile, they had told him on the first day after Peter had fought against them. He’ll learn his lesson soon enough.

“That’s- that’s it bud. Good. Come back to me.”

Peter sucks in a breath, tries to move and struggles. Every inch brings a fresh wave of pain. Tony watches him with a broken heart, turning his hands into fists against their restraints. “C’mere bud.”

Finally, Peter looks up at him. It takes him nearly thirty seconds to cement the eye contact and ten more to recognize who Tony is. When it clicks the boy gives him a broken half smile, shoulders relaxing. “T’ny.”

“You gotta come to me kiddo. I can’t come to you, okay?”

“M’kay.” The boy crawls forward, whimpering low in his throat but eventually making it to Tony’s side. With the little slack the chains provide Tony is able to pull Peter against his body, hugging his frail frame against his chest. If it hurts, Peter doesn’t say, and opts to relax more fully against Tony’s side.

“I’m sorry,” Tony whispers into Peter’s hair. The kid mumbles something unintelligible in response, eyes closing as the drugs persist in his system. Tony shudders against the hot flush of a fever on the kid’s skin, of the ribs he can feel through his shirt.

He’s losing him.

They’re running out of time.

It’s a desperate, hopeless feeling.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, voice cracking.

Then, he prays.

----

Two days later and Tony sees sunlight. He jerks awake at loud, jarring noise. There’s a gaping hole in their prison, spilling in fresh air and blue sky. Tony winces at the bright light, feeling dizzy at the sudden development. He curls around Peter who is once again tucked into his chest, shivering and mumbling in his sleep in an attempt to shield him from the dust and debris.

At the mouth of the hole appears Rhodey and Steve.

He hopes he isn’t dreaming.

They run towards him, mouthing things he can’t understand.

Peter doesn’t stir.

“Help him,” he murmurs.

Then he falls back into darkness.

----

Tony wakes up confused and alone, hooked up to beeping machines and blinded by sterile white walls.

He tries to sit up, is stopped by Rhodey, searches the man’s eyes and fails to curb his mounting panic.

“Where’s Peter? Where is- Where is he?”

They clasp hands. Rhodey tells him that Peter is fine, that he’s in surgery, that they’ll bring him to Tony as soon as they're finished.

It’s not enough. Tony needs to see him now.

He doesn’t stop fighting until something cool enters his bloodstream and he falls back against the pillows, the room darkening at its edges.

Rhodey never lets go.

----

The next time awareness comes back to him, the first thing Tony sees is Peter.

Alive, safe, Peter.

The kid is lying on a bed identical to his own across the room. He’s small and pale against the sheets, wrapped in casts and bandages and monitored by every machine you could think of. His eyes are closed but his chest is rising and falling in a comforting, even pattern.

“Peter?”

Of course, Peter remains asleep. It brings back dark memories of their time in captivity and Tony is suddenly overcome with the need to be by the boy’s side, to make sure he’s really okay. That this isn’t just all in his head.

Ignoring the way his own machines beep in protest, Tony clumsily detaches himself from them, and then, from his bed all together. His legs are weak but support him, his goal overpowering his body’s weakness. He reaches the edge of Peter’s bed in a couple steps and collapses against it, shaky and weak.

“Peter?”

The monitors pick up, and seconds later, dark brown eyes are blinking up at him. “Tony?” he slurs.

“Oh thank god.”

Before he can think it through, he’s hugging the kid. Peter completes the embrace, his limbs weak but sure.

They’re both crying.

“You’re okay,” Tony says, perhaps more for his own reassurance, and he hears Peter laugh wetly in his ear.

“You are too.”

He isn’t sure how long they stay like that. Only that after a while, Peter sags against Tony’s side. Noticing, Tony shifts himself out of their hug. “Move over,” he instructs.

Slowly, Peter does, and Tony fits himself in the available space. Peter latches onto him. “I was scared we’d never get out of there,” he whispers, so faintly that Tony barely catches it.

“We did though,” Tony tries to comfort. “Rhodey and Steve saved the day.”

“I thought I was going to die.”

Tony is silent, his head spinning. Eventually he manages to choke out, “I’m so sorry, Pete. This is all my fault.”

This gives Peter more strength. He lifts himself up on his elbow, then looks dizzy for doing so. “What?” he says. “No it’s not-”

“I wouldn’t tell them what they wanted.”

“Obviously. We know what would’ve happened if you did.”

“You got hurt because of it.”

“You got hurt too.”

Tony sighs and closes his eyes when they sting. He feels Peter collapse back against the mattress beside him.

“We’re out,” Peter continues sleepily. “That’s all that matters.”

And Tony is too weak to argue.

----

Three days later and Tony is free to roam as he pleases, his injuries no longer keeping him bedridden. Despite the freedom he doesn’t leave their room, staying in a chair beside Peter’s bed. The kid sleeps, mostly. He mumbles unconsciously and flinches at loud noises. He sweats and cries.

And Tony is there for it all.

----

“I’m so bored,” Peter grumbles, arms crossed and pouting. “I hate staying in bed all day.”

“Remember when you almost died?” Tony says.

Peter sighs, rolling his head back against his pillow. He looks considerably better now, with colour in his cheeks and a majority of his minor wounds closed up. But he still has a cast on his leg, his arm in a sling, and twenty precarious stitches in his side.

“You’ll be out of bed soon enough,” Tony promises.

“Whatever you say.”

----

Ned and MJ visit. They play video games and board games and don’t leave until it’s dark. When they do, Tony returns. Peter is still against the bed, looking more alone than Tony has ever seen him.

“Are you okay?”

Peter jumps and swipes at his face. “Oh- Tony. Sorry. Yeah. Yeah I’m okay.”

And Tony is stupid enough to believe him.

----

“Help!”

Tony jackknifes awake, heart thundering in his chest. He scrambles in darkness for a moment before flicking on the lamp, finding Peter twisted up in his sheets, kicking and clawing and fighting.

“Damn it.”

He drops to his knees beside the bed, gently nudging the boy into wakefulness. It doesn’t take long before Peter’s eyes fly open, wide and deep with fear. He continues to fight and doesn’t stop until Tony forces his face to look at him.

“T-Tony?”

And all he can do it nod, his throat too tight to form words.

Peter stares at him like he’s far away. He chokes on his next breath.

“Peter?”

Peter shudders and raises a hand to clutch at his throat.

“What’s wrong buddy?”

But he already knows. Has seen it in himself for years.

“Can’t breathe,” Peter gasps.

Tony sits on the edge of Peter’s bed and rubs his back, barely able to keep his own panic at bay. He holds Peter’s hand over his chest and tells him to concentrate on the beats. Teaches him how to breathe.

And he does.

In reality that attack only lasts for a couple of minutes, but it seems to stretch like hours. When the worst of it passes Peter falls back into the pillows, exhausted, eyes fluttering. “Thanks,” he says. Then, “sorry.”

“Don’t apologize Pete. I should be the one saying sorry-”

“No,” Peter says. He pats Tony’s leg. “No sorrys. For either of us.”

And Tony would like to think it’s possible.

He stays awake long after Peter drifts off again.

----

Another two days, and Peter is discharged from medbay. He’s excited but lacking his usual spark. He spends the day with his friends and comes back exhausted. He sleeps on the coach and wakes up disoriented. They eat dinner, though Peter barely touches his food, and they spend the rest of the night in the lab.

“How was your first day as a free man?” Tony asks.

“Good.”

“What’d you do?”

“Went to the arcade with Ned and MJ.”

“Sounds nice.”

“Yeah. Yeah it was.”

The tinker in relative silence. He notices Peter grab at his arm periodically, as if to stop an ache.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“Well, I don’t really believe that, so how about telling me the truth?”

Peter throws down his tools. They clang against the table and Peter flinches back from the sound. Tony stands, worried, and Peter shrinks into himself.

“Peter-”

“Stop. Just stop, okay? I’m fine.”

He’s crying.

Tony takes one cautious step forward, then two. When Peter doesn’t say anything he closes the distance in its completion and wraps his arms around the boy’s shaking shoulders.

“Talk to me,” he says.

Peter sniffles, doesn’t push him away. “I’m sore and achy. I can’t sleep. I never feel like eating. I’m scared all the time-” he trails off, voice quieting. “I’m just so scared.”

He’s not sure if there’s words somewhere out in the universe that Peter needs to hear. If there are, it’s impossible to know them. He tightens the hug and rests his chin on the top of Peter’s head. “It’s okay to be scared. You’re allowed to be. You know that right?”

“I’m supposed to be strong. A superhero.”

“You are. You are, Peter.”

“But-”

“No buts,” Tony interjects. “Listen close, okay? Cause I don’t like to get all mushy gushy very often. You, Peter Parker, are a hero through and through. You’re the bravest, smartest, kindest kid I’ve ever met. You’ve gone through some tough stuff in your life. And you’ve always come out the otherside. This is no different, even if it feels like it right now. Okay?”

Peter clutches onto his arm like a lifeline.

“It’s okay to be scared, Pete. It means you're human like the rest of us.”

Peter nods vigorously against him. “Th-thank you.”

“I’m always here. Whatever you need.”

Forever and always.

----

It’s been a month and Peter is nearly back to his old self. He’s patrolling again, he finishes dinner and smiles and laughs when they clean up afterwards. Nightmares become less frequent. He aces his tests.

Tony reflects on this as he looks at the kid across the room. He’s scribbling away equations in a coil-bound notebook, eyebrows scrunched in concentration. A soft smile turns his mouth up, the warmth of pride leaking through his chest.

“Hey Pete?”

Peter looks up, his pencil drooping in his grip. “Yeah Tony?”

Don’t be like your father. Break the cycle.

“I’m proud of you, kid. Just wanted you to know that.”

Peter blushes. He averts his gaze, mouth open in lost words. “Oh. Uh, thanks Tony.”

“I mean it. You’ve come a long way.”

When Peter reconnects their eyes, Tony feels the depth of the boy’s understanding. He had seen it in the cell, in their shared hospital room.

“Thanks,” Peter repeats, and this time, he sounds sure. He smiles. It’s wide, genuine, reflecting his youth.

It looks like healing.

It is healing.

“Now get back to work.”

“Aye aye.”

Peter writes down more equations, then pauses. “Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m proud of you too.”

The sentiment freezes the air in his chest. He hardly knows how to compartmentalize the emotion. It processes slow as molasses. Eventually, he matches Peter’s smile. “Thanks kiddo.”

Yep, it’s healing.

And they’re family, through and through.

#febuwhump #febuwhump2021 #febuwhumpday26 #this one is a doozy #all aboard the angst train :)#peter parker #tony stark #irondad #irondad fic #my fic #hurt peter parker #hurt tony stark #recovery #protective tony stark #panic attacks #tony stark acting as peter parkers parental figure #peter parker whump #febuwhump 2021

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wallwriterstuff · 3 years

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Hi! Can I please request a Demetri x mate!fem!reader where he finds her (when she’s still human) severely injured, and he can sense she’s his mate, and decides to immediately turn her because he doesn’t want to lose her (I’m sure he wouldn’t take the chance of taking her to the hospital) and when she wakes up, she’s in the Volturi castle. I’m sure it’d be really shocking for her because she didn’t know about the vampires (she thought they were fiction), and now she’s a vampire and has a mate,Demetri. He would be so sweet when he’s helping her adjust!! Ooo what if she woke up as a vampire near Christmas time,and she’s really sad because she was going to spend Christmas with family, but now she’s a vampire, so she can’t, so Dem finds out everything he can about this “human custom” (I feel like he’d call Christmas this lol), and he sets up their room all Christmas like and gets her presents, mistletoe 😘, a tree, etc, and ahhh he would be so sweet, if she could cry, she’d be bawling omg... Also she would so somehow convince him to wear matching Christmas pajamas... And then Felix would walk in to see this LOL

This Thing You Call Christmas ||Demetri Volturi x Female Reader||

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of injury, violence and trauma.

Words: 5391

Summary: When a wrong turn down a dreary alleyway spells disaster for the reader, she finds that Chrismas miracles come in all forms. (I swear despite the warning tags there are some fluffy bits in this.)

It wasn’t really clear to you what had happened for several moments after the event. One moment you had simply been jogging to reach the end of an alleyway that had creepier vibes than an abandoned psychiatric ward, and the next you were…hot. Too hot. Just for a moment. So hot in fact you could feel how cool the breeze was on your skin. Everything in that one brief moment was so heightened and yet so confusing, your blood roaring in your ears and your mouth spouting protest after protest with some not so lady-like words at the man that had shoved you against the wall.

Then an explosion of pain in your side had ricocheted through each and everyone one of your ribs, bursting outward like a small, red hot explosion, the lava leaking out and soaking your shirt, your hip bone. It wasn’t until you looked down and saw the knife embedded in your gut that you understood what had happened. In that brief, infinitesimal moment, the world just stopped. Your jaw dropped, disbelief flooding your system as your eyes met your attackers. He was a scrawny little boy, dirt smudged on his face and clothes utterly ruined, homeless most likely and in desperate enough need of cash he’d stuck you with whatever he could find to get it.

“Please…take the bag just don’t pull out the-“

“Shit!” he swore, yanking the knife free of your abdomen to cut through the leather of your bag handle and steal it away. You cried out, knees giving way beneath you the moment he let you go. Just like that, he’d drastically reduced your chances of escaping this alleyway alive. The ground was cold and wet beneath your knees, typical British weather not on your side to make anything better in this shitty scenario.

“Fuck…f-fuck,” you whimpered, hand pressed to your side as you rapidly lost blood, “H-help! Someone help me! Help me please!” you called out. The wound in your side throbbed, a fiery kind of ache that radiated outward from the focal point and shot through every nerve ending your body possessed purely to torment you as you tried to stand up straight. Blood was seeping through the gaps in your fingers, your shirt soaked with it as you collapsed sideways into the wall. Gritting your teeth, you used your other arm to try and lever yourself up, hobbling forward a few steps. Every step was agony and you could feel the colour draining form your face, your heart beating hard in your chest as adrenaline pounded through your veins.

No matter how loud you cried out nobody seemed to hear your desperation. No matter how many steps you took the mouth of the alleyway seemed to get further away, or maybe it was your vision starting to tunnel, who knew? Your legs gave out and you hit the floor hard, face crunching into the cement and nose shattering upon impact. More blood burst over your face, hot and fresh, and your vision began to blacken at the edges. Gasping for air, tears stung your eyes. This was not how your life was supposed to end. You were young, only 22, you had so much to live for yet that you hadn’t been able to achieve or see or do. Bleeding out in an alleyway because of a mugging gone wrong? Not your idea of a good way to go out. Christmas was just around the corner, you were supposed to go back home and spend it with family, instead they would have to come to London and peer inside a body bag to identify their daughter.

After that, time became a blur. You had no way of honestly telling what happened next, the world going dark as you descended further and further into the pits of hell. It had to be hell, didn’t it? That was where the pits of flame swallowed you whole to torture you for eternity, right? You hadn’t stopped burning since you closed your eyes, a red hot poker too big for your veins being forced through them at an agonisingly slow speed, splitting nerve endings and peeling away your flesh inch by inch. The screams in your own head were deafening and you were sure the devil must have enjoyed watching you writhe on his table. The raging inferno just didn’t go away either. You weren’t sure what was worse, the intensity of the burn or the fact you actually started to get used to it.

That relief was never going to last, not when the devil liked to torture his victims. The fire began receding from extremities first, the tips of your fingers going blissfully cool, tingling with numbness as the flames dissipated and feeling began to return. It was like being submerged in cold water and you welcomed the blissful feeling, but even that was accompanied by a worse kind of pine, a searing, blistering agony in your chest that was eating away at your rabbiting heart. It was gone as quickly as it came, and for a second you forgot how to breathe, the air stolen from your lungs at the sudden, intense relief. No more fire, no more burning. With a sigh you finally unscrewed your eyes, or at least, it felt like you had kept them clenched shut for a thousand years at that point. There was no ache in your jaw though you were sure you had screamed, no pain in your body lingering from the torment it had gone through.

The only problem was how sensitive you felt. After burning for so long your body was reacting to everything, senses heightened to the point the world seemed surreal. The air was ripe with a thousand smells, your tongue tingling with the taste of each one and your eyes were so laser-focused on everything all at once it was difficult to focus on any one thing. Beneath your fingers you could feel every strand of cotton that made up the dark sheets you were lying on. Where even were you? This was…it wasn’t a hospital bed, too plush and the colours to deep for the neutral tones of a sickroom. There was expensive looking wooden furniture with rich, dark tones and photographs and a fireplace made of stone.

“It is a relief to see you awake.”

One moment you were relishing in the softness of sheets and sinking into a heavenly mattress, and the next you were flat against the wall across from you, your spine crunching through the stone even though it should have been the other way around. Your wide eyes looked down at the chunks of stone near your feet, the dust settling on your shoulders, and then you tried to estimate the distance between you and the bed. It was easily four meters. How had you crossed four meters in such a short time span? Don’t even start on your posture right now. Since when did you crouch and bare your teeth at people like that? It was like a deep, animalistic urge had taken over, your senses still screaming danger as you tried to take in all the new information, the new man.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, with the sharpest jawline you had ever seen on a man. The crystalline quality of his skin was equally as distracting, it was almost pearlescent he was so pale, and it distracted you just long enough that you didn’t notice the redness of his irises till after you had already become fascinated with starring at him. Chestnut brown hair looked soft enough to run your fingers through, golden strands interwoven and reflecting the minimal light coming in from the window. He wore a suit, the very definition of elegance as he sat back in a leather armchair and watched you carefully, like he was a talent-show judge maybe trying to decide if you were worth his time.

“Who are – oh.” You blinked, pulled out of your defensive stance by the sound of your voice. It was you but it…wasn’t. How could you sound so soprano sweet? It was almost like you had swallowed sugar and it was now sprinkled throughout your words. His head tilted, a smile pulling at full, pink lips to reveal the briefest flash of pearl white teeth.

“A man who means you no harm, I assure you. There are a lot of changes you need to be made aware of, things I do not expect you to fully believe right away but need you to know are true. Will you give me the time to explain once we have gotten you fed?” he asked. Fed? You wanted to ask what he meant because you weren’t honestly all that hungry, but his words reignited the fire in your body. Your throat was absolutely parched, ripping itself apart for any sort of relief. With a gasp you doubled over, hand flying to your throat like you might just be able to rip the pain out.

“I – w-what d-did you – gah!” you rasped. A large, warm hand found your shoulder, and though the touch of a stranger should have felt foreign and wrong it was relieving, soothing.

“You will focus much better once you have fed. Wait right here, I promise you it will be over soon.” He reassured you with a gentle rubbing motion on your shoulder. You weren’t too sure you could have moved even if you wanted to, your mind going haywire as the intense fire burned brighter, blazing through your throat. Water, you needed water. Stumbling towards the bright white porcelain of a bathroom, you threw the door open wider and gasped when the wood shattered against the tiles. It was difficult to think beyond the burning in your throat though as you forced the tap to turn on, trying to gulp down water in the hopes it might soothe your throat some. Gallons must have washed down your throat by the time the handsome stranger returned, and what came next was…a blur.

Everything was euphoric, and hazy, a fog slowly lifting from your mind. The sound of dripping water leaked into your consciousness, your nose smelling something incredibly rich and sweet that made your throat ache – the burn was thankfully gone. Though your ears and nose seemed to be working your eyes were not. All you could see was red, dark crimson coating the walls and, if your reflection was to be believed, you. It dripped from your chin, coating your lips a ruby red and staining the pretty black dress you had been wearing in large swatches. The handsome stranger was stood in the doorway, watching you with a hint of amusement in his irises. It took you a fraction of a second to understand where the red drenching had come from. A woman who might once have been pretty lay in your arms limp as a ragdoll, drained of all colour with her throat ripped out and trailing along her collarbone.

Her blood was quite literally on your hands.

With a gasp, you dropped her shattered body and almost slipped on the water blanketing the floor, your body righting itself at unnatural speed. You twisted, the horror on your face obvious as a sob ripped its way free of your chest, hands flying up to your mouth as a flurry of terror and guilt and horror washed through you. The tap had been warped, your fingerprints indented into the metal and the top twisted off. Water had flooded the entire bathroom, and as your panic grew more intense your eyes stung as though you wanted to cry, but no tears would come. You could barely breathe, yet you couldn’t feel your heart rabbiting in your chest as you knew it should. The tile shattered beneath your knees as you fell, not a scratch on you as you spotted the second body over the tips of your fingers. Splinters of wood had been soaked by the overflowing tap, the door almost as broken as the bodies at your knees.

“No. N- no, what happened to me?” you cried out, chest heaving as you buried your head in your hands. Within seconds you were enveloped by strong arms, a warm body moving in behind you until you were cradled close, shielded from the damage around you.

“Shhhh sh sh sh, everything is fine cara mia, you did well,” the smooth whisper was like the voice of the devil tempting you to sin further, “This is normal for our kind, this is how we survive, you have done no wrong.” He promised, whispering quiet reassurances while you struggled to calm. Whoever this man was, you should have been afraid of him. He had somehow made you blackout and murder two people, you’d cannibalised them actually, and whatever else he had done to you you were now abnormally strong to. He had made you into some sort of monster, and yet…

“Wh-why?” you sniffled. Why had this happened to you? Why had these two unfortunate souls had to die? Why had you burned so badly for so long? There was lots of questions and so little time to ask them, so many answers you weren’t actually sure you wanted. He was stroking your hair now, his embrace feeling safe and warm; while you were in his arms, you could almost forget about the scene surrounding you.

“Forgive me, I know this is overwhelming, but I could think of no other way to save you. I had to change you my love.” He whispered. Your sobbing had died to sniffles now, and you lifted your head to look up at him, feeling lost and desperate for anything that might make sense. It was all so confusing and the only thing grounding you right now was him, because you could just sense that he was the same as you, only he was much more sure of what he was and his place in the world.

“Change?”

“Yes, change. I had to change you from human, to vampire. The burning you felt was my venom. Please understand I had no choice,” His hand moved from your hair to your cheek, eyes scrutinising your face. “Come, let’s get you cleaned up and we can talk some more, yes?” The word vampire was ricocheting around your brain, your body moving whichever way he wanted to lead it. It was like you had blacked out again, suddenly standing in a much cleaner bathroom as the handsome stranger turned knobs to adjust water that came tumbling out of a luxurious looking waterfall spout above your head. You blinked, shocked to realise that despite not paying attention you could distinctly recall the way he had carefully moved you from room to room with the promise of a hot shower and fresh clothes.

For his part, Demetri was incredibly worried about you. At first he had simply feared his venom wouldn’t take, that he was too late when he found you that awful night, surrounded by your blood and struggling to use the last of the air in your lungs. He’d been attracted by the smell of your blood, not having smelt something quite that strong and alluring in a while. He thought it was his lucky day, a bloodsinger perhaps, but he found you instead, broken and abused, twitching in a pool of crimson – the scent was strong because so much of it had spilled onto the concrete.

Demetri had known from the moment he saw you that you were meant to be his, everything about you screaming to every instinct he had. Your scent teased his nose as one of the best he’d ever come across, your tenor irresistibly bright and warm, the curves of your broken body looking like they were physically molded for his hands to hold. He had never turned anyone before, but it was really the only option he had once he realised he couldn’t rouse you to so much as ask your name. His next worry had been trying to stop. Once his teeth had sunk into your flesh and the sublime taste of you hit his tongue it had been a race against time to hold his position long enough so enough venom could infiltrate your system, all while not draining anymore of the precious little blood you had left. He had almost lost it when he tried to seal your stab wound with his tongue.

You had taken four, agonisingly long days to open those vivid red eyes. He hadn’t been able to focus on anything else, so distracted that Aro had been forced to give him time off so he could sit by your side – and do a bit of hunting on your behalf. Now you were nearly comatose in Felix’s shower, his best friend busy cleaning up his bathroom as best he could so you wouldn’t return to that horror scene. Demetri had known you would be shocked, that it would be a lot to adjust to, you had been ripped from a safe world where monsters like him didn’t exist after all, forced to become one yourself without consent. How was he supposed to explain it all to you? How did he even begin to make you understand the bond that was set between you? You had calmed so quickly in his embrace, a sure sign you felt it to.

“Vampires aren’t real. I know they’re not, but the things I did…you can’t even tell I was stabbed. It shouldn’t be possible, none of it should be.” Your voice was as soft and melodic as windchimes, an addicting song he could listen to on repeat for hours. Demetri had sat as a silent sentry on Felix’s bed, listening for any sign you might be distressed again so he could swoop in and save you. Every little sob had torn at his heart, his arms aching to hold you until it all went away. He gave you a slow nod, patting the space beside him in a silent invitation, one he was glad you accepted. Your scent was unique, comforting, intoxicating. From the moment you sat beside him, it was all he could focus on.

“We are very real love. You are faster and stronger in this body, your senses keener. My venom has immortalised you as you are, unchanging from this day for the rest of eternity.” He informed you, his voice soft so as not to startle you. Newborns were unpredictable, driven by animalistic instinct. Vibrantly red eyes stared back at his for a brief moment before your gaze dipped to your hands. You were wearing one of his shirts, the premium cotton almost swamping you and landing at mid-thigh. The sleeves had covered your hands, and he moved to kneel in front of you to roll them up.

“Your venom?” you asked, eyes watching his every move. Demetri nodded.

“Yes, you have venom to. It coats our teeth to immobilise our prey, and our joints to allow us to move faster than anything else on earth.” He answered honestly. A slow exhale was the only response he got from you as he carefully brushed his fingertips against your arm, desperate for even the smallest amount of contact with you. Every time he touched you he felt his nerve-endings sing with relief, like he had been suffering for a thousand years without ever knowing he was till he had found you.

“So…vampires are fast…and strong.” You mumbled, pulling your hands back subconsciously. Demetri nodded, moving back to sit beside you.

“Some of us are gifted also. I, for example, can track anyone anywhere in the world. There is much to learn still, try not to overwhelm yourself learning it all in one go,” he advised, head tilting slightly, “Since I am answering so many of your questions perhaps you can answer one of mine?” You looked somewhat bewildered, as if you hadn’t actually considered he might have things he wanted to know to.

“Like what?” you sounded cautious and Demetri couldn’t help but laugh.

“Nothing too sinister I promise, but I was hoping I might learn your name.” he hinted. He was sure you would be blushing if you could, but you turned your body towards him and held out a hand anyway.

“Y/N, Y/N L/N.” your hand was small in his own, delicate, and yet when you gripped you gripped too tight. He winced slightly as the skin cracked and you withdrew immediately, looking horrified by what you’d done. Demetri cradled his broken hand to him with a light laugh.

“My apologies, I should have known better than to ask a newborn to shake my hand,” he dismissed it with ease even as the skin stung and knitted itself back together, “I am Demetri, Demetri Volturi. Welcome to our coven, tesoro.” You swallowed, looking nervous again.

“When can I go home? I…you’ve been really kind but I have to get back, my parents, they’re expecting me to come for Christmas.” Your teeth worried your lower lip and his heart ached a little, knowing you wouldn’t like the news he had to give you.

“Given the damage you have unwittingly caused today, would you think it wise of me to let you return home?” he asked gently. He watched your breathing pick up slightly, your expression twisting into disappointment and upset.

“But it’s Christmas, I have to get back, I always go home for Christmas.” You insisted, voice wavering. Christmas? Demetri couldn’t honestly comprehend what was so important about it that you had to go back for it every year. It was a time of year for human greed to rear its ugly head and nothing else, wasn’t it? He couldn’t very well say that to you, however.

“It will not be possible anymore Y/N. Please understand, to the rest of the world vampires do not exist for good reason, we remain hidden, from this moment forth, you no longer exist either, not as you used to.” He wished he’d never said anything when you began to cry once more, and even though he was sure part of you was angry at him for doing this to you, you still curled into his side to accept the comfort he offered. The days that followed were some of the strangest of his life, his mate so near and yet so far. He understood that everything was overwhelming, not at all what you were used to, but you were much shyer and more withdrawn than he had expected. There was little he could do to coax you out of your shell except give you time, though his saving grace was you seemed willing to be in his presence more so than anyone else’s.

It was a pattern he found he rather liked. You came to him when you had questions you wanted answers for, and curious little thing that you were you had lots of them to; only he was ever allowed to get close enough to touch you, and only he got to be near when you fed, you still needing the guidance and his grounding influence to move past the initial guilt till it was almost negligible. Once, when Felix had tried to hand you some spare clothes’ he had collected rather thoughtfully from town for you, he had accidentally brushed your hand with his own and you had flinched straight into Demetri, like you subconsciously were seeking his protection. Another time (he wasn’t quite sure you had known you were doing it) but one night, as he trawled the internet for more information on Christmas traditions in Britain on his tablet, you had simply been watching the flames dance in the hearth beside him when you scooted a little closer and rested your head on his shoulder. His hand had reached for your own and you hadn’t hesitated to slip your fingers between his own, squeezing lightly.

His favourite memory by far had to be the day you found out you glowed. At first you’d been utterly startled, flitting past his window so fast to show him something you hadn’t fully seen anything, but the glimpse of glitter was enough to slow you down, leaving you looking bewildered as you struggled to see exactly what had happened. With a chuckle, he’d pulled you back towards the window, keeping your hand in his and gently rolling up the sleeve of your jumper before slowly moving your arm into the light. The awe on your face was an expression he wouldn’t soon forget, wide red eyes looking between him and the diamonds encrusted in your skin before a laugh so sweet it could have been a baby’s coo rent the air.

“We sparkle?”

“We do. You are as precious as any rare gem love, the proof is in your skin.”

You had tilted your head just enough that he could have kissed you, if you’d both so desired it in that moment, but you’d barely known him a week and it didn’t seem appropriate. He’d let you pull away from him, averting your gaze in that shy way you had that he found so endearing. He wouldn’t let you pull away next time.

“Demetri? Where can I put this?” Felix brought him out of his reverie, and he turned his head from the fireplace to see what exactly he was holding. He had ordered a lot of things after all. His tree was currently a little lopsided, lacking ornaments on the right-hand side, so he hoped it was another box of baubles. You were currently in the training room with Alec and Jane, the twins agreeing to distract you while he set up his room with everything he had brought. He couldn’t do much about your general need to acclimate to the new life you had discovered, but he could soothe your grief by bringing Christmas to you, right?

It had taken him a few minutes to figure out how the stupid tree was supposed to go up and he was admittedly irritated with how many specks of glitter he could see in his carpet, but he figured it would all be worth it when everything was ready.

“Those are for the fireplace.” He informed the giant. Felix glanced about the place, much different to Demetri’s usual decoration. The Masters’ had been generous at first, giving you our own space to allow you to acclimate to your new senses in some peace and quiet, but since you were mated to him it was expected you would eventually share a room, and the Masters’ patience was running very thin. Demetri hoped you would accept the proposition soon given you spent most of your time in his room with him anyway. Felix knew better than to stick around, knowing he would get irritated by his friends fussing eventually. Demetri didn’t mind, he had a tree to trim after all, though it was quickly becoming more arduous by the minute as he tried to ensure a balance between tinsel and ornaments. With his speed, he had transformed his room in a little under two hours, and from the look on your face when you walked into the room it had well been worth it.

Your mouth parted, eyes alight with wonder and confusion, you took in an array of lights adorning the bookshelves, fireplace and tree. There was tinsel on almost every flat surface, and fake snowmen and santa’s sitting along a mantlepiece dripping with fake icicles.

“Metri…” you breathed. He hoped your lack of words was a good sign. Hesitant steps carried you about the room, your fingertips dancing over the ornaments scattered about.

“Are they to your liking?” he asked. His eyes dipped to the package in your grip but you seemingly had forgotten it. Your eyes were sparkling as you turned to face him.

“I – these are – we…their perfect.” You whispered, voice raw with unshed emotion. Demetri watched you come closer towards him, meeting you halfway to prevent you from going any further with a smile. His eyes flickered upward to the white berries of mistletoe he’d carefully hung from the chandelier – his plan was in motion. Your eyes followed his gaze, breath hitching slightly. Demetri had never wanted to kiss anyone more than he did in that moment, you and your wide-eyed stare was too tempting, the soft glow of multicoloured lights illuminating the planes of your face making you as picture perfect as any hallmark Christmas movie character he had forced himself to watch.

“I tried to read up on some Christmas traditions for you. Most seem to be very subjective but I chose a few I knew I could bring to Volterra,” He murmured, “I admit, this was one of my favourites…I was rather hoping you would indulge me, love.” He placed his hand on your waist as gently as possible, hoping not to scare you away. Timid thing that you were, he wasn’t sure you would agree, but he wanted to give you plenty of chance to choose for yourself. You didn’t need to know that your decision here could make or break him, that he wasn’t just asking you for permission to kiss you. What he really wanted to know was whether or not you accepted him as your mate. You bit your lip, eyes flickering away briefly.

“Only if you indulge me to,” you bargained, pulling your package up between you pair. Demetri raised his eyebrows slightly, curious to know what was in the squishy looking plastic envelope. “I…I didn’t know you were going to do all this for me but I was going to ask that…well, you see my family always get matching pyjamas to spend Christmas Day in and I just…since we both are free on Christmas day…you don’t have to but-“

“I would be honoured, love,” Demetri cut you off, “There is little I would not do for you.” Your grip on your pyjama package tightened, your breathing a little shaky now and eyes filled with trepidation. Demetri searched your expression, looking for anything that might warrant some hope, but your deer in the headlights expression remained and he was truly uncertain as to where you stood.

“I don’t understand,” You admitted quietly, “I’m nothing special. I don’t understand why you did all of this for me.” Demetri sighed, absent-mindedly brushing your hair back from your face. It would have been endearing if it wasn’t so bloody frustrating. Why couldn’t you see how much you meant to him? He made himself readily available to your every whim and desire, never rejected you when you sought physical comfort from him despite quite obviously denying it to everyone else. Had you truly not noticed and understood you were everything to him? He quite literally couldn’t live without you.

“Truthfully? I care little for the tinsel and lights and all of the frivolity this holiday gives humans an excuse for, but I care for your enjoyment of it. This is important to you, and if I have not made it abundantly clear by now you are important to me.” Demetri said, moving the package from your grip so he could take your hands and squeeze them lightly.

“But-“

“But nothing, Y/N. I have known since the day I was forced to change you there was only one person meant for me. I would rather endure the change for the rest of eternity, drown over and over in the deepest and darkest parts of the ocean, have the devil himself rip whatever is left of my soul in two, than spend a day without my mate,” He swore, bringing your hands up to rest on his chest, “It may not beat, but if you will accept it, this heart is yours and yours only.” A small squeak of surprise escaped you and you almost seemed to flounder for a moment, clearly shocked by the bold declaration. He had said nothing he didn’t know deep in his heart to be true, and surrounded by the glow of Christmas lights, nestled in his arms beneath the mistletoe, you answered him the only way you knew how.

So long as you kept up a tradition of kissing him like this, Demetri could get used to celebrating Christmas.

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #volturi #demetri volturi #demetri volturi x reader #felix volturi #you know he is helping his homeboy win you over #x reader #request #christmas

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oneisallallisone · 3 years

Text

All I Know, All I Know Greedling x Reader fic Chapter 4

In a land ruled by alchemy, there are some who would call you a sorcerer. You intend to understand what this means. Along your journey you end up getting mixed up with two strange brothers, a military conspiracy, a potentially world-ending event, and the avarice of something more than human.

Chapter 1

Read on AO3

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All I Know, All I Know

Chapter 4: Drained

tw: descriptions of violence and blood

It was almost like a dance; Ed darting in to slash at Number 48 with his automail blade then pivoting away, allowing you to take aim and send bolt after violet bolt at the suit of armor. The amount of exertion was unlike anything you had ever felt. Sweat trickled down your brow, your limbs shook from the effort. You never seemed able to catch your breath.

This will drain you, a tiny voice said in the back of your head. A louder voice in the back of your head snapped at yourself to shut up. You couldn’t allow yourself to stop your barrage here. Not when Ed was starting to bleed so badly.

A few moments ago you saw him stumble backwards after blocking Slicer’s sword. The alchemist’s eyes widened and he rolled his right shoulder—his automail shoulder—a few times. Number 48 had advanced on him again, so you took it as your cue to intervene. Two arcs of purple energy hit the knight in both his knees, knocking him off his feet for a few moments. But it was enough time for Ed to regroup and decidedly shift back into a defensive stance.

That was the exact moment from which the fight started to get worse.

Ed’s attacks became sloppy. Your shaking limbs caused more of your attacks to miss. Number 48 had landed a fair amount of hits on the alchemist and now Ed was losing blood fast. There were particularly concerning wounds on his upper left arm and the side of his head.

“Ed!” you called, “I really think we should—”

“End this fast, I know!”

Despite his injuries, Ed seemed determined to fight on.

“If we die here I’m gonna kick your ass in hell!” you screamed.

Ed’s only response was a grimace as he parried another swing from Slicer’s blade. He back flipped out of the way and you moved in to take a shot. But your hands were shaking, your whole arm was shaking, and instead of sending the purple blast of vitality into Number 48 it soared wide and impacted the ceiling above you. A chunk of cement fell free and landed inches from Ed.

“Hey!” the alchemist called. “Watch it! You’re supposed to be attacking him, not me!”

“I’ve never exerted this much of my power before!” you yelled back. “My body can’t keep up with controlling what I demand from it!”

“How courteous of you to admit your exhaustion, child,” Number 48 droned. “The swift end I’ll deliver you shall be a mercy.”

The guard charged you. Sword poised to stab right through your chest. Your feet shifted back a few steps as if to run, but you felt your arms raising themselves up to produce your shield again. If you were going to die, it might as well be standing your ground.

The impact never came. Ed dashed over to put himself between you and Slicer, grunting under the strain of blocking the guard’s sword with his automail. But within moments the alchemist’s strength failed.

Number 48 knocked both you and Ed aside with a great, sweeping kick. The two of you tumbled across the ground and crashed against each other in a tangle of limbs. When your momentum stopped, you were flat on your stomach, looking up at your looming death approaching. Ed was on his knees next to you.

Slicer approached slow, savoring his victory.

You looked up at Ed. The blood streamed down the side of his face and you could see the clear pain in his eyes. But there still existed an unrelenting determination behind them. He turned his gaze back up at Slicer. Then you watched his eyes flicker to the threshold of the empty hallway across the room. The one behind the guard’s back.

“Now, Al!” Ed yelled.

Number 48 did not know the hallway was empty. When he turned to face the supposed new combatant, Ed leapt from his knees and knocked Slicer’s head from his body with one clean strike. The metal helmet clanged to the floor, and Ed stood catching his breath.

“That was dirty!” Number 48 yelled.

“There’s no such thing as dirty in a fight!” Ed shot back.

You hauled yourself to your feet and walked over to where Ed was currently holding Number 48’s helmet by the hair. “There’s something I need to ask you about.”

“The Philosopher's Stone?” the guard asked, his words almost laced with boredom.

“Yes. Tell me everything you know about it.”

“Sorry. Can’t.”

“Oh come on,” Ed argued. “It’s only fair. I’ve beaten you at your own game, afterall.”

“That’s where you are wrong. I’m not beaten yet.”

You heard the shifting metal only after it was far too late. A quick, piercing sensation ripped through your skin. You looked down to see the tip of a sword jutting out from your lower abdomen, close to the right side of your body.

Your eyes locked with Ed’s before you fell to your knees.

“I forgot to mention something about the mass murderer Slicer,” Number 48’s head said.

A new voice spoke from the armored body that was moving once again. “His crimes were committed by a pair of brothers.”

Ed screamed and charged at the second brother.

You collapsed forward onto your hands. This is bad this is bad this is bad—

A red pool formed below you. Your arms were screaming for you to let them give out, just let yourself lie down, close your eyes. For a moment you thought you might. But then Ed cried out in pain again.

You’d already won against one of these guard dogs. It’d be a shame if that was all for nothing.

Your right hand found the bleeding in your lower abdomen. The warm fluid leaked fast and seeped through your fingers in a matter of seconds; pressure from your hand alone wasn’t going to be enough to stop the bleeding. Taking your hand away from the wound, you ripped one of the sleeves off your shirt and rolled the fabric into a plug that matched the width of the gash. Steeling yourself for the pain, you stuffed it underneath your skin.

Returning your hand to the wound and applying pressure whilst the fabric of your shirt was soaking up some of the blood yielded slightly better results than pressure from your hand alone. Slightly.

Shifting your gaze back to the wider room, you saw Ed slumped against a pillar. He was also holding his side tightly, a look of pain and exhaustion in his eyes. But the body of armor that had once been moving was on the ground in pieces. Low voices filled the air, and you stumbled your way over to the injured alchemist.

“Aren’t you going to kill us?” Number 48’s head asked as you leaned on the pillar next to Ed.

“No,” the fullmetal alchemist stated firmly. “I will not take the life of another human. And I know that my brother is a human being, so that means you guys are human too. I will not kill you.”

The head laughed. “My brother and I have been lying, cheating, stealing, and killing for as long as we can remember. And now that we have these forms, we’re being treated more like humans than we ever have. For that, boy, I’ll give you a parting gift. I’ll tell you everything. The Stone—”

Razor sharp darkness leapt from the shadows across the room. Two obsidian spearheads punctured Number 48’s head, ripping through his blood-seal and killing him in a heartbeat. Ed gasped beside you, and you felt your heart rate quicken from a new sense of fear, or the toll your injuries were taking, or both.

“My, that was a close call,” a feminine voice said.

Two figures emerged from the threshold of the hallway; one of them wore a black off-the-shoulder dress, and the other was in an equally dark crop top and skort. The one in the dress had long, wavy black hair, pale skin, and eyes like wine. The other one had equally pale skin, black hair that hung in strands around their body, and eyes of the dullest, darkest purple.

“Number 48, you should know better than to talk about things that don’t concern you,” the girl in the black dress continued. She retracted the spearheads that had pierced Number 48’s helmet, and, only when the sharp points settled, you realized with horror that she wasn’t carrying a weapon at all. The extendable and retractable blades were her fingertips. You wondered briefly if your loss of blood was causing you to hallucinate.

But Ed’s gaze was just as fixed on these newcomers too. It had to be real. The one standing just slightly behind the girl grinned smugly and caught Ed’s eyes. “Well, well, would you look at that, what’s the fullmetal pipsqueak doing here?”

Ed didn’t even shout back at being called a pipsqueak.

“Such a troublesome boy,” the girl with the pointed fingernails sighed. “How did you find out about this place? And oh, who is this?” Her eyes landed on you. “Well this certainly throws a wrench in things.”

“(y/n), run,” Ed whispered to you.

You snapped your head towards him. “You can’t be serious.”

“Go!” he hissed. “Your powers were as good as drained by the end of the last fight. If these guys are looking for trouble…”

He didn’t need to finish his sentence. Dark spots were starting to dance at the edge of your vision now. But there’s no way you could walk out of here without Ed.

As the girl shattered Number 48’s helmet in half, strangled cries erupted from the rest of the armor. “Brother? Brother! No! Brother!”

The one in the crop top sauntered over and picked up Number 48’s sword. They drove it through the blood-seal drawn on the neck of the armor again and again and again. “Quit your blubbering, you idiot!” they scolded the dying brother. “You were trying to kill one of our most important sacrifices! You could have messed up the entire plan! What would we have done then? Huh?”

But the armored brother could not respond, as his twitching had ceased.

“Go get Al,” Ed whispered to you in an urgent voice. “Please, (y/n). I’ll be fine. Just hurry.”

As the two figures in black stepped closer, you saw that on each of them was a tattoo: A red dragon eating its own tail. The girl with the wavy hair and wine colored eyes still had her gaze set on you. “We don’t need this other one. Only the fullmetal boy is required. Would you make it quick, Envy?”

The one carrying the sword grinned and turned to face you. “Why, I’d be happy to, Lust.”

Envy, as they were called, stepped over and pulled you close to them, holding the tip of the blade to your throat. You swore you caught a glimpse of your fearful face reflected in their dark pupils. The grin on Envy’s lips twisted wider.

“(y/n)!” Ed shouted.

You focused on your energy. If there was even a scrap of your power left over, you had to claw it out now or this would be it. You dug down, down down, and felt an inkling of something trying to flicker to the surface.

When it erupted, it sent Envy flying across the room.

The girl, Lust, looked back in shock as Envy hit the wall. Their back slammed hard into the concrete, and they were just barely able to catch themself on their hands before crumpling completely. “You brat!” their voice ripped through the air.

“Go! (y/n), go!” Ed was practically pleading at this point.

You aimed another blast at the ceiling between Ed and Lust, hoping that the falling cement would slow her and her companion down. With the roof on the far side of the room beginning to crumble, you limped back into the hallway you came in from.

Al was staring back and forth between officers Ross and Brosh, and the other armored individual that called himself Barry. He had been surprised to learn that Barry was like him, a hollow suit of armor with a soul bonded to it, but this commonality hadn’t stopped Barry from trying to kill him. The arrival of Ross and Brosh was the only thing that gave Barry pause.

In the relent of Barry’s attacks, Al turned his attention back towards the Fifth Laboratory just in time to hear a faint voice call out from the other side of the boarded-up front entrance.

“Al,” your voice carried weakly. “Al, are you there?”

The young armored boy startled and he rushed over to the boards. “(y/n)? Is that you?”

“Yes. I can’t get through. Please…”

With the wavering of your voice and the Central guard already having been killed by Barry, Al wasted no time creating a hole in the wall with his alchemy. Once there was an opening, you collapsed through it and fell onto the lawn. Blood seeped into the soft grass below you.

“(y/n)?” Al said cautiously.

“Ed…” you whispered. “In trouble. Go.” You attempted to stand as you pointed to the opening behind you.

Al helped you up as gently as a suit of armor could, and then turned back to the officers. “Lietenant Ross, please look after her.”

The woman stepped closer to Al, keeping her gun trained on Barry but nodding at Al’s request.

“Of cou—”

She was cut off by an explosion from the laboratory. Fractures ran up the sides of the building, large pieces broke off and crumpled to the ground. Al pulled you away as the windows burst, and Ross shouted for Brosh to take cover.

“No…” you mumbled as Al shielded you. “No no no no no, this wasn’t…I didn’t… ” You couldn’t help but replay over and over the last thing you did before leaving Ed alone with those people: blasting the ceiling so a few pieces of it would collapse, just a few pieces to act as a shield for him. You’d never intended for this. And now Ed was—

Being carried out by Envy?

Past Al’s torso, through your ever-darkening vision, you saw them emerge from a hole in the wall. Envy had Ed slung over one of their shoulders and practically dropped him at Al’s feet. “Here you are! I brought a little present for you.”

“Brother!” Al cried, crouching down to inspect him while still keeping you supported.

“He’s not dead, but he has lost a lot of blood so I suggest you get him to a hospital as soon as you can.” Envy smiled. “Oh, and maybe start keeping a better eye on him too? He is a precious resource, afterall.”

Maria rushed over and pulled Ed into her arms. “Who exactly are you?”

Envy ignored her. Instead they grinned down at you. “And you…well, I’ll see you around.”

The last thing you saw before passing out in Al’s arms was Envy’s twisted smile.

#ahaaa #and I will sprinkle in a bit of tension between envy and the reader just for fun #fullemtal alchemist #fmab #fma brotherhood #fma #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #greedling x reader #fma fic #greedling #fmab fic #edward elric #alphonse elric #ling yao #envy #lust #blood tw #violence tw

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lost-in-the-80s · 3 years

Text

You Don’t Want My Love - Chapter 8

Pairing: Duff McKagan x reader

Words: 3,969k

Summary: Guns n Roses hires a new tour assistant, but nobody thought that Duff would fall for her.

In this chapter: Is Paris really the city of love? Y/N and Duff are about to find out.

A/N: This chapter is pure fluff! There is a line in French, but the translation is below in italics. The high school story is true btw, I was the one who stayed sleeping lol

Tag list: @roger-taylors-car @ladieswttda @teasid @metalheartofgold @slashscowboyboots @ginny-rose-sixx @rumoured-whispers @vinylvintage @metalupyourash add yourself to my tag list :)

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A week passed after that morning, nothing very exciting happened in Y/N's life. Guns n Roses did two successful shows in Scotland and soon after they got on the bus towards France.

They got there very early in the morning, after a long rainy night. Drops still dripped from the leaves of the trees and the asphalt had taken on a darker shade of gray, while the sun fought for space between the clouds that covered the sky.

Open-mouthed, Y/N admired the city through the bus window, her dream had always been to meet Paris, unaware of Duff's gaze fixed on her expressions, making a smile appear on the blonde's lips.

"I can't believe we're in Paris!" She exclaimed, her eyes shining with joy.

"Me neither," Slash said smiling, the realization that his band was touring Europe was still going on, and he couldn't be more proud.

"I always dreamed of coming here, but I never thought it would come true." She smiled, turning to the boys, her back facing the window.

“Well, we have the day off. You can enjoy doing what you've always wanted to do here! ” Izzy said, he was sitting next to her.

“I'm going shopping! Then I want to have coffee in one of those bistros that we see in the movies.”

"It looks like you already have a plan then." Izzy smiled slightly at her.

"Is there room for one more in this plan?" Duff asked. He was sitting across from her, smoking a cigarette.

"Sure! We can go out right after breakfast if you agree. ”

"It's fine with me!"

---

After a tasty breakfast, the two of them met in the hotel lobby. Duff in a leather jacket and black jeans while she wore a red sweater with jeans and black high boots.

Walking side by side, they followed the receptionist's recommendations, walking just a few streets before reaching downtown.

Entering a busier street, several people came and went along the sidewalk, making it difficult for them to move.

In a quick, almost unconscious movement, Duff took her hand, guiding the way through people until they reached a quieter street.

As soon as his skin touched hers, she lost herself, her legs still moved in rhythm with his, but her mind moved as fast as a hummingbird's wings.

His fingertips were dry and callused against the thin, smooth skin of her hand. Her fingers were so small compared to his that they almost disappeared during the gesture.

However, Duff didn't realize what he had done until they arrived at a peaceful avenue full of shops. He felt her hand tightly holding his and a small smile appeared on his lips. For a few seconds, he feared she would let go of his hand, after all his help was no longer needed, but she didn't.

In fact, she only let go of his hand when they entered the first store, needing both hands to feel the fabric of a sweater and go through the hangers.

They visited many stores and although Duff thought he would be bored to go shopping, he ended up having fun. Not because he liked to stand beside her while she went from hanger to hanger, or because he liked to carry the bags for her, but because he was with her.

Every time she left the dressing room asking for his opinion, he couldn't contain the small smile that formed on his lips.

Leaving what appeared to be the thousandth store, she suddenly stopped in front of a window. Its glasses had frosted glass details and clothes in shades of black and brown were exposed.

"What's it?" He asked worriedly.

"It's Chanel." She said with a sigh.

She looked at him and saw his brows furrowed. "It's my favorite griff."

"Let's go in then!" He said, pulling her hand into the store.

The floor was light marble and the walls were white, there were adorned pilasters in the corners and the ceiling was very high, decorated with a large crystal chandelier.

Passing slowly on the hangers, Y/N touched each fabric subtly, feeling the material against her skin and smiling without believing that she was in Paris, personally looking at the fine clothes that inspired her so much to study fashion.

"Bonjour je peux vous aider?" A middle-aged saleswoman wearing a bun approached with a friendly smile.

"Good morning, can I help you?"

"What?" Duff asked.

"Oh sorry, I didn't realize you were tourists." She smiled gently. "Do you need any help?"

"I'm just looking around, I studied fashion in college, I always wanted to see your store in person." Y/N smiled.

“You have a degree in fashion! That's great!" The saleswoman raised her eyebrows in admiration.

"Yes. Chanel has always been my favorite griff, it influenced me a lot to choose the fashion college. ”

“In this case, come with me to the second floor. We have beautiful dresses from the latest collection there, you will love them.”

The saleswoman guided them up an arched staircase with marble steps and black handrails to the second floor where the dressing rooms were and a session full of dresses and party clothes.

“This one is one of Karl's favorites, do you notice the ruby details on the collar? They're from Australia.”

"It's beautiful!" Y/N responded, lightly touching the white dress that the saleswoman was showing her.

Passing the countless hangers, Y/N lifted her hand to her mouth when she saw a red dress, full of small sparkling stones. The dress was the most beautiful she had ever seen.

“Ah, this is Louise. It is inspired by Italy. ” The saleswoman approached explaining. "These little stones are quartz, they fit a lot, don't they?"

“Yes, they really do. It's the most beautiful dress I've ever seen in my life.”

"Try it," Duff said, drawing the attention of the two women.

“Yes, you should try it, dear! I'll see if we have one in your size, I'll be back in an instant. ” She smiled leaving the two of them in the room.

Putting the hanger back in place, Y/N turned to Duff. He smiled in her direction and she almost forgot what she was going to say.

"Duff, you know I can't afford a dress like that."

Before he could answer the saleswoman returned.

"I think this one will look perfect on you." She went into one of the changing rooms, hanging up her dress and turning on the lights for her.

Reluctantly, Y/N entered the dressing room, changing her clothes for the dress. The saleswoman offered to help her with the zipper, entering the dressing room and closing it quickly.

"Wow, it looks beautiful on you, dear!" She exclaimed.

She wasn't lying, the dress was really beautiful on her, fitting so perfectly that someone could think it was made especially for her.

"You need to show it to your boyfriend!"

"Oh no, he isn't-" Before she could finish the woman opened the door, stepping out of the way so Duff could see her.

"Wow." He sighed. "You look beautiful!"

She felt her cheeks flush as she murmured a "thank you".

“You should take it, dear! It looks great on you. ”

"Oh no, I can’t affo-"

"Here." Duff took the wallet out of his jacket pocket, offering the saleswoman a card. "Use this card please."

Smiling, she took the card and went down the stairs.

"Duff, you don't have to pay for the dress for me!" She crossed her arms, she didn't like to depend on others.

"I don't need to, but I want to."

"But Duff."

"Y/N, the dress looks beautiful on you, it would be a mistake not to take it."

She stopped for a moment looking him in the eye. "Fine." She said subtly before entering the fitting room to remove the piece with the help of the saleswoman who had already returned.

---

"What do you want to do now?" Duff asked when they left the store.

“How about we go get something to eat? I'm starving."

"Finally you talked about food, I was almost eating one of my fingers," Duff said laughing, looking at his fingers with a weird expression.

Arriving at a bistro, they chose a table on the sidewalk of the establishment, so that they could admire a little more of the city while eating.

"It's beautiful here, isn't it?" Y/N said when she finished eating.

"Yes, very beautiful," Duff said, filling his mouth with what was left of his croissant, making her laugh slightly.

"What do you want to do afterward?" She asked.

"I don't know, we could go to that park." Duff pointed to a park directly in front of the bistro.

"Good idea!" She smiled

"I'm going to pay, then we go, okay?"

“No, no, no! I’m paying." She stated, looking for her wallet in the bag.

"Why do I get the impression that you are going to buy me coffees until you match the value of the dress?"

"Because that’s exactly what I am going to do." Getting up, she walked quickly into the bistro.

---

The park was extensive, its trails were made with small white cemented stones and the trees around it seemed to be very old, although they had lost all their leaves during the winter.

They walked for almost an hour, admiring small art exhibitions and talking about long stories from the past.

The temperature started to drop and the sun started to set over the horizon, bringing a purple-gray color to the city.

Y/N had her arms crossed in front of her, trying to keep her warm, while Duff rubbed one hand against the other in hopes of warming his cold fingers.

“My class was super excited, their dream was to go to that exhibition, while my best friend and I were just going to miss two days of school” She was telling him the story about her trip in her senior year of high school.

"We spent the whole morning in a park and while everyone went to take pictures, she and I stole two scooters for hire and we kept walking around the same block of the park all morning."

"What? You stole a scooter!? ” Duff said laughing. "I never thought you were like this, Y/N!"

"What could I do? We were bored! .... And in the afternoon it got even worse! We spent an hour and a half visiting the exhibition, after that we got tired and realized that we had 5 more hours free, but nothing was interesting to do. We sat in a less busy area and I read while she slept.” She laughed at the memory.

"So you didn't enjoy the trip at all?" He asked laughing.

"Nope."

"My God." He laughed. "And where is this friend of yours?"

“She lives in Norway now. We speak in letters every month, but we haven't seen each other in years. ”

"It’s a shame." He stopped in front of a fountain. "Maybe it’d be possible to visit her after the tour."

"Maybe." She smiled slightly.

"Three days is not enough time here, there is so much I wanted to see." She sighed.

He didn't answer, and she turned to face him, he was looking at her, his eyes full of a glow that she had seen before, but she couldn't identify.

"What's it?" She said softly, putting a lock behind her ear.

He took a step closer to her, their bodies mere inches apart.

"I want to kiss you..." He said in a low tone, licking his lips, as he leaned slightly towards her.

"But I'm only going to do it if you want to." His hand touched her face, his cold fingers making a shiver grow on Y/N.

His lips were so close to hers, she could feel his hot breath against her skin.

She froze, her heart raced and she couldn't formulate words so she just nodded slowly.

Closing the distance between them, Duff pressed his lips gently against hers, moving away after a few seconds.

She opened her eyes and saw his gaze fixed on hers. He still kept his hand on her face, waiting for some kind of reaction.

Gathering all the courage she had, she stood on her tiptoes and pulled him closer by his jacket, smashing her lips against his and enveloping him in a hot, passionate kiss.

One of Duff's hands found her waist, bringing her even closer.

His tongue asked for permission to invade her mouth and after getting it, their tongues danced in synchronized ballet, as if they had already rehearsed hundreds of times.

"You don't know how long I waited to do this." He whispered when they pulled apart.

---

The way back to the hotel was quieter, the night had reached the city and the cold wind was blowing against them through the streets of Paris.

Duff had his arm around her shoulders the entire way, while she hugged his waist.

Arriving at the hotel, they walked slowly through the corridors, so slowly that Y/N could have counted all the chandeliers on the walls.

They had all the time in the world and weren't ready to say goodbye yet, but the number 25 appeared, it was her room.

"We’re here." She said calmly, looking into the blonde's eyes as she came out of his embrace.

"See you tomorrow?" He took her hand, intertwining their fingers.

"You know you will, Duff." She leaned against the door, lifting her chin to keep her gaze fixed on his.

A light laugh left his lips as he remembered that fateful night in Scotland.

"What?"

"I had a dèjá vu" He smiled, putting a lock of her hair behind her ear.

"What do you mean?

"That night in Scotland."

She frowned.

"Don't you remember?"

She shook her head slowly. "No."

He laughed again. "You were standing just like this." He stroked her cheek with his thumb. "Asking me to kiss you." A smug smile appeared on his lips.

"Oh my god!" She closed her eyes, wishing it had just been his imagination.

"It would have been an interesting proposition if you weren't so drunk."

"I'm not drunk today, am I?" She bit her lower lip, smiling.

A smirk appeared on Duff's lips as he leaned down to kiss her again.

"Good night, Y/N," Duff said as he backed away.

"Good night, Duff."

He leaned down kissing her forehead for a few seconds before slowly letting go of her fingers and heading towards his room.

---

The next morning Y/N woke up with the biggest smile, she still didn't know what was going on between Duff and her, but she was happy.

Entering the hotel's restaurant, fear took a hold of her heart. She didn't know if Duff had told the rest about them, and the last thing she wanted was for them to be making jokes, like that night when they slept together.

The first thing she saw was Duff, he looked up from his plate, looking her straight in the eyes, almost as if he had felt her presence before he even saw her.

He gave her a small smile as he followed her every move.

Taking a cup of coffee and a slice of pie, she sat between Steven and Slash at the table.

"Woke up late today, Y/N," Axl said. "Did you come back too late yesterday?"

"Not really, I arrived around seven."

"We passed at your room around six, we were going to a restaurant, but you weren't there," Steven said.

"Ah, it’s okay, I ordered room service." She smiled slightly.

"What made you wake up so late then? You are usually the first to arrive." Axl insisted on the topic.

"It took me a while to get to sleep last night."

"Insomnia?"

She looked at Duff, seeing him smile slightly. "Something like that."

---

The afternoon soon arrived and Y/N left her room to go to the soundcheck with the boys.

Looking across the hall she saw Duff, propped up against his door.

"You’re beautiful today." He whispered as he approached her, leaning over to steal a small kiss.

"Thanks." The compliment had made butterflies rise in her stomach.

A door opening made Duff take two steps back.

"Were you waiting for me?" Steven asked, smiling as everyone walked towards the elevator.

"Uh-huh." She said quickly.

Arriving at the lobby, Y/N was stopped by Izzy.

"Y/N, I need you to do something for me."

"Sure, what’s it?"

"Erin will be arriving at the airport in about an hour, I need you to pick her up and go with her somewhere."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't take her to the soundcheck."

"Why?" She frowned.

"Axl does not concentrate when she is there, we have to do everything twice ... Go with her to a beauty salon or whatever."

"Fine..." She answered slowly.

"Here, take the band’s card." He handed over the card before heading towards the bus.

"Ah!" He turned around. "Here... for the taxi!" He handed her 50 euros, finally leaving the hotel.

In the distance, she could see Duff looking at her without understanding what had happened.

She shrugged, offering a small wave before Izzy pushed him into the bus and closed the door.

---

The day was starting to get boring. Erin's flight was delayed by almost an hour and all she could think was that instead of being with Duff, she would have to spend the rest of the afternoon with her.

Not that she could complain much, Erin was a nice girl, kind of an airhead, but a great company to have fun with.

But she would rather be watching Duff playing his bass while wearing his Cowboy hat.

Her flight finally arrived, and Y/N moved to the line of people waiting for passengers, holding a papal with Erin written with pink lipstick.

A thin scream filled the airport when Erin identified Y/N, making people around look at them.

She took a few leaps until she reached Y/N, wrapping her in a hug.

"Hi, Erin!" She said hugging her back.

"I missed you!" She smiled.

"I missed you, too, Erin!"

"I was upset that you never called me when you were on vacation." She pouted, making Y/N give a nasal laugh.

"Sorry, I was very busy."

"I forgive you, but only if you promise to call me next time!"

"I promise, Erin."

"Let’s go then? I'm missing my little redhead." She started walking.

Y/N took a deep breath not to laugh at the nickname. "The plans have changed, we only go to the arena when the gig’s about to start."

"What do you mean?" She stopped, turning to the other woman.

"Izzy told us to have a girls' day. I thought we could use a massage."

"Izzy said that?" She frowned.

Y/N nodded in agreement.

"That's weird."

"Weird or not, I have the band's card." She held up the card, showing it to the girl.

"In that case, let's go! A full massage can take more than an hour!" She started walking quickly, making Y/N quicken her pace.

---

After nearly an hour and a half at a massage parlor, Y/N and Erin went to a coffee shop, ordering cake and hot chocolate.

The place was small and cozy, the walls were painted in shades of cream and the chairs had flowery green cushions.

Taking a table by the window, they started talking.

"Has Axl given you a lot of trouble?" Erin asked.

"No, he's been calmer these days. The biggest problems are Izzy and Steven."

Erin looked her in the eye, encouraging her to continue.

"Izzy is a pain in the ass when he's high, and Steven doesn't even know where he is when he uses it, I have to act like his mother."

"That sucks! Good thing Ax doesn't have any problems like that. But I think it's just because they're on tour, as soon as it's over they'll get better."

"I hope so," Y/N said smiling. "And how are things between you and Axl?"

Erin stopped with the cup halfway, not knowing whether to speak or not.

"Things with him are ... complicated…. He can be romantic and kind when he wants to, but most days he ends up taking his anger out on me."

"What do you mean?"

"We fight a lot, but I love him, and I know he loves me, so eventually we will get better." She gave a small smile before bringing a piece of the cake to her mouth.

Y/N nodded as she sipped her hot chocolate, deciding not to dwell on it.

"And how’s Duff going?" Erin smirked.

Y/N's eyes widened. "What about Duff?"

"The last time I was here he was hopelessly in love with you. Axl said he spent all day talking about how beautiful you are."

A smile appeared on Y/N's lips.

"Don't tell me he hasn't made a move yet?"

"He actually did." Her smile got bigger.

Erin propped both elbows on the table, looking intently at the girl in front of her, curious to know more.

"He kissed me yesterday."

Erin shrieked, smiling at the news.

"The boys must have gone crazy!"

"They don't know yet."

"Why not?"

"Because even I don't know what we are yet. Besides, I work for them, I don't want to say anything before I'm sure it's serious"

"Yeah, it makes sense. Do you want me to be quiet about it then?"

"Please."

"Relax, my lips are glued together!" She said laughing.

---

Arriving at the arena, Y/N walked calmly through the countless corridors next to Erin, while listening to her chatter about the Christmas party at her father's house.

She stopped in mid-sentence when she saw red hair entering a room.

"Axl!" She screamed, running towards the door when he stuck his head out.

She threw herself into his arms as he hugged her tightly, mumbling how much he missed her.

Y/N smiled at the scene when she was pulled by the arm into a room.

The light was off and the only illumination present was the reflection of one of the stage spotlights that reflected through the window.

Adjusting her eyes to the brightness, she could see the figure of Duff in front of her, covering her with his height.

"I missed you." He said before pressing his lips against hers.

His hands found her waist, pulling her closer as her hands went up to his hair, tangled in its strands.

Their tongues danced together as he guided them until she leaned against cold material.

Using one hand to feel the surface, she realized it was a table. They should be in a dressing room.

Y/N sat on the table, increasing her height in a few inches, making Duff's job easier.

She tangled her legs around his waist, bringing him closer, while he lowered his hands to her ass, squeezing her flesh tightly, making a small moan leave her lips.

Starting to apply kisses to her neck, Duff was interrupted by a loud knock on the door.

"Duff!" It was Slash.

"What!?" He pulled away from her neck, shouting towards the door.

"We have to go on stage, we’re already late!"

"Shit," Duff murmured. "I'm on my way!" He shouted for the door.

"I think I'm going to have to leave you alone now." He smiled, stealing another kiss from her. "Come and see the gig."

"I'll be there in a minute, I promise." She smiled at him, kissing his lips one last time before he walked out the door.

Alone in the dark, Y/N sighed, her fingers went to her lips and a smile appeared on them.

"Well, I think I can get used to it." She murmured.

#harley writes #you don't want my love #duff mckagan #duff mckagan fanfic #duff mckagan fic #duff mckagan imagine #duff mckagan x reader #guns n roses #guns n roses fanfic #guns n roses imagine #guns n roses fic #guns n roses x reader #gnr #gnr imagine #classic rock #classic rock imagine

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project-rosewood-476 · 3 years

Text

This fic was based off the song "I hate u" by Simon Curtis and this takes place in the Every Rose Has Its Thorns (ERHIT) universe. This is a side fic and is by no means canon with the main story or with any future events in the story.

Tw: smut (but not the actual sex it's just very sexual and a lot of foreplay)

Tw: violence at the beginning

ENJOY

I hate him…

God, do I hate him…

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this…

But that’s how it always happens, isn’t it?

Those were Tabby’s thoughts as she was being pinned up against a tree in the backyard with the man that she despised. Holding her wrists up, body pressed up against her and his knee adding pressure between her legs. He looked at her with a mixture of coldness, cruelness, and amusement with a hint of lust for the younger girl. Tabby, on the other hand, looked up at him directly in the eyes with the most hateful, defiant, spiteful, lustful look to date.

How did she get into this position? Well, let’s go back a few months ago.

It all started with a mission. Masky, Hoodie, Toby, and Tabby were all put on the same team. Since Tabby was only three days in, she was brand new. So, the Slenderman put her in a group with the most experience, so maybe she could learn something. The mission should take at least six months, and it was to infiltrate a school and capture someone whos been trying to get information on the Slenderman. That meant living like usual and all together.

That didn’t settle well for Tabby and Hoodie. Tabby already didn’t trust the three as far as she could throw them. And after a brutal argument with Hoodie about him manipulating her and digging her heels in farther and saying how she will do as she damn well pleases. She realized that they were never going to see eye to eye, and after an argument like that, she can only assume that there will be more to come, which means that this would be a long six months.

The arguments started as yelling matches. Being raised the way that she was, Tabby was taught to go for the throat and attack where it will hurt most in a fight, whether it was a physical or verbal fight. Tabby had her stepdad’s verbal abuse to thank for her sharp tongue and harsh wit. Therefore Tabby always had the last word. This did not settle well with Hoodie. He hated how a scrawny, bratty teenager always got the best of him. It was time for his retaliation.

Hoodie was twice Tabby’s size. So he was able to overpower her with brute strength alone. He didn’t care if she was a girl or the fact that she was a teenager. To him, the moment you join the proxies is the moment you become an adult and become fair game. That’s when the arguments got physical. Hoodie was always the first to snap, so to Tabby, it was a fair fight and game on. Tabby is not the one to go down without a fight. So she’s just as vicious of a fighter as he is. Tabby may be small, but she’ll give you a run for your money. Hoodie may have gotten a bloody nose, black eyes, bruised throat, and maybe a broken arm once. But it was Tabby who is either face-first to the floor with him straddling her with her hair being pulled up forcefully in a tight grip or her being pinned up to the wall by her throat with his entire body pressed up against her to keep her from moving.

Nevertheless Tabby showed no fear. She exhibited nothing but contempt, hatred, and spite with a subtle hint of arousal. She always waited for his next move. Was it death? Or was it something farther? She never knew. Hoodie never hurt her too bad nor made anymore potentially sexual advances. He’d be lying if he didn’t say that he felt oddly aroused every time that happens. Just seeing her in a helpless state, under his mercy, while still having that defiant look to her? It was enough to drive him insane. He often had to go to the bathroom to ‘take care of himself’ after letting her go. He hated how the brat got him so riled up. It took him a little while to figure out that the little shit got aroused by that as well.

It wasn’t until he was training her for the first time while the other two were away that cemented it in, which brings it up to the” present time. He was somehow always put in charge of babysitting Tabby, much to both of their dismays. Tabby running on nothing but pure emotion and spite attacked him first.

“Stupid girl,” he thought to himself.

It didn’t take long until she was face first in the dirt, with him straddling her from behind, and he suddenly pulled her hair up with a tight and painful force. Tabby gasped at the pain and for breath. He leaned down close to her soft spot, which was where her ear meets her neck.

“You wanna try that again?” he whispered to her.

Tabby had to bite back a moan as he accidentally ground up against her as he sat back up. She struggled to control her breathing.

“Fuck...you…” she spat out along with the dirt that was in her mouth.

That was all he needed to go right ahead. Hoodie raised an eyebrow and got off of her.

“Are you sure about that? Is that what you really want?” he stated, darkly moving towards her.

Tabby scrambled to get up and brush herself off before moving backward, trying to get away from him. Her eyes were wide in suspense, and he daresay a hint of fear. Her eyes quickly darted from one area to another, looking for a way out. But there wasn’t any. She let out a squeak; she felt her back hit the tree in the backyard that they’re in. The backyard was fenced in highly, so it was almost like they were secluded.

She was utterly alone.

Hoodie planned to take full advantage of that. God, she looked so cute, being in fear and having nowhere else to go. Completely helpless and at his mercy. He walked towards her with a dark predatory grin spreading across his face.

“What makes you say that?” she said shakily with defiance in her voice.

Hoodie moved with the speed of a viper. He had her wrists pinned up above her head, one knee between her thighs so she was on his and his entire body pressed against her. Tabby sucked in a breath.

“Oh, I think that you know perfectly well what I mean,” hissed Hoodie in his low voice. Tabby looked at him wide-eyed, clearly unsure where this was going.

“Always starting fights with me…,” he trailed off and lifted his hand to touch the top of Tabby’s head and moved down to the shape of her face. Tabby flinched at first before being surprised at his gentle touch.

“Always fighting back and never doing what you’re told....,” his voice lowered and became softer as he gently caressed her cheekbones before touching her lips, parting them with his thumb, and Tabby whimpered as she lightly bit down in submission. She looked down, embarrassed with her half-lidded eyes. She then let out a stifled moan as she tried to shift her position so she wouldn’t be as uncomfortable, but she wasn’t expecting to be so sensitive when she accidentally grind up his thigh and then slowly slid back down in a fruitless attempt. Hoodie had to bite back a groan at the beautiful sight before him. Tabby being completely helpless and under his control and her squirming around rubbing up in certain areas was not helping him out either. Hoodie was surprised at how submissive Tabby was; he expected more of a fight.

“Hm?” said Hoodie as he roughly grabbed Tabby’s chin, slightly squishing her cheeks together making her look at him.

“In my defense”, she said through squished cheeks and narrowed her undeniably lustful eyes,” you start shit with me...I just finish it.”

“Fair enough. But I think it’s time that you learn your place”, said Hoodie.

Hoodie crashed his lips into hers that he was most definitely bruising hers while adding more pressure between her legs. Tabby let out a moan of pain and pleasure; she ground up his thigh slowly, then feverishly. Hoodie couldn’t help but break his composure but moan into the makeout session at the building friction. He ran his hands all over her body harshly to bruise her and bit her as well, leaving marks. Tabby moaned again and whimpered. It was like she was forced to drink cup after cup of his contempt.

But then again, he was forced to drink cup after cup of hers as well.

Tabby decided to get even with him. With both of them running on lust, his grip on her arms became lackadaisical, so she managed to get one of her arms free. She grabbed what fistful of his hair that she could and bring him closer to her pressing her entire body against him and grinding up wherever she could to gain more friction for the both of them. She did it harshly to leave both of their bodies aching later. She bit at his lips to bruise them and draw blood. She left nail marks, bite marks, and scratch marks on wherever skin was exposed. That was sure to leave his skin raw later. They were both moaning messes with Tabby's growing ever so louder.

Then they heard the sound of a car pulling up and parking, with the classic noises of the car doors slamming and the beeping of the keys. Masky and Toby were home.

Hoodie pulled away and dropped her. Tabby let out a yelp as he dropped her.

“Hey, what the hell!”, said Tabby still on all fours.

“The boys are home. Do you really want them to see us like this?” asked Hoodie as if nothing happened.

Tabby shook her head no.

“That’s what I thought,” said Hoodie as he walked back towards the house.

“But now I know what you’re into, and that’s very useful to use against you,” said Hoodie as he looked over his shoulder at her with the most sadistic smile before disappearing into the house.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!”, screamed Tabby but he couldn’t hear her.

She took a few minutes to get her breathing back to normal and to recompose herself before standing up and fixing herself.

“I hate you,” she said in thought as she ran to catch up with them.

#tw smut #tw violence #every rose has its thorn #erhit au #creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #original character #tabbyanderson #tabby #hoody marble hornets #brian thomas #ticci toby #toby rogers #masky marble hornets #tim wright

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animatedarchives · 4 years

Text

trust • trust fall (part i) || bakugo x reader

a/n: hi dear, yes you absolutely can!! this turned out a LOT longer than i anticipated it to be because i couldn’t stop writing LOL anyway i really hope you enjoy it :) i’m so sorry if this is not what you wanted ;-; also please prepare yourself for bakugo absolutely cHuGgiNg his respect woman juice skkjmcknscsk

► genre: ANGSTTT, fLuFfy aT thE EnD i love soft katsuki ;-;

► warnings: mentions of cheating

► word count: 1.2k words

“Izuku… Why?”

“I’m sorry Y/N… I didn’t know how to tell you…”

“Am I not good enough? Is that it? Is that why you cheated on me? Is there someone better?”

“I… I’m sorry Y/N…”

“Wait, don’t leave! Izuku, wait! Please! Please…”

You’ve been replaying the conversation over and over in your head for the past hour, each time failing to find the answer to your question.

Why? Why did you leave me?

The poor condition of the abandoned hallway you were in mirrored your despair; paint peeling off the walls, windows coated with grime and the dusty ground on which you sat in melancholy.

Well, at least no one is here to see you like thi-

“Oi.”

Crap.

“What the hell are you doing here, sitting on the floor like a damn idiot?”

“Oi! Don’t ignore me when I’m talking to you, shitface!” he spat.

“Dammit, Bakugo! Can you just mind your own business and leave me the hell alone?” you yelled over your shoulder.

“Look, I don’t know what your damn problem is but if you think you can tell me what to do, you’d better think again,” his voice dripping with annoyance.

Oh my god, why was he so persistent? Could he not just go away? Your blood started to boil and the heat rushed to your face.

“Stop acting so weak and pathetic-”

Bakugo opened his mouth but you cut him off.

“But Deku-”

“I do.”

“What?” you asked.

He looked at you straight in the eye, unflinching.

“I said I do,” he repeated. “I do care. About you.”

“Don’t lie,” you scoffed.

“Tch, I’m not lying, you idiot. You just don’t want to accept it,” he replied flatly.

“I said stop acting so weak and pathetic, not because you are, but because it is everything you are not.”

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe him so bad but you couldn’t find the heart to.

“Which is why…” he muttered, so softly that you almost didn’t catch it. You waited for him to finish his sentence but he never did.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye and saw him looking at the floor. You had never seen Bakugo this vulnerable before. Oh, how the tables had turned.

“Which is why I li…” he mumbled, the end of his sentence dissipating due to lack of articulation.

“Why what?” you asked again, mildly irritated that he wouldn’t just spit it out.

He groaned loudly.

“WHICH IS WHY I LIKE YOU, DAMMIT!” he finally admitted, raising his voice as he turned to look straight at you.

Your eyes widened so much you thought your eyeballs were going to pop out of their sockets. You didn’t even bother hiding the shock on your face. This was simply incomprehensible.

“WELL? Don’t just give me that stupid look! Say something!” he shouted in frustration, desperate for an answer.

“Bakugo…” you started gently. He might have seemed collected on the outside, but his heart was beating impeccably fast and his anxiety levels were off the charts.

It was sincere.

Genuine.

Honest.

You melted into the kiss, hesitant at first but eventually willing to give love another try.

“You’re right, you know. You can’t just give your heart to people. If you do, you’re bound to get heartbroken,” he said.

You frowned and stared forlornly at your feet, unsure of what to say. You knew he was right but you couldn’t help it. All you ever wanted was to be loved. To matter to someone.

You.

“I will do whatever it takes to earn it.”

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ickle-ronniekins · 4 years

Text

duet | golden

DUET MASTERLIST

desc: fred loves to tease his twin. more importantly, he loves to tease his twin about you. so when the opportunity arrises to invite you for summer holiday and keep it from george, fred takes it. and george, stunned at your appearance in the entrance of his house, is flabbergasted and nervous. but maybe, just maybe, it’s the perfect time to tell you -- maybe it’s the perfect time to tell you just exactly how he’s been feeling.

a/n: hi! i don’t even know what number leeann and i are up too with these installments! leeann and i love these two little goofballs so much. i'm so grateful she approached me a few weeks ago asking to do this collab. also i knoooow the summer before the trio’s 5th year they’re supposed to be at headquarters but whatever just indulge me okay? also yes she’s in hufflepuff but let’s pretend the houses can pack together and hang together in their common rooms OKAY!

word count: 3.8k sorry

warnings: naaaah

“It’s going to be our final year! Aren’t you sad, Freddie?”

You were adding the last of your things to the top of your trunk -- your clean quills, your neatly folded socks, your straight, unwrinkled ribbons, and of course, the letters. The letters that kept coming. From your secret admirer.

“Not really,” Fred grinned brightly. He was sprawled out on the couch in the empty Gryffindor common room, his trunk on the floor next to him. The two of you were alone. Most everyone was now down in the Great Hall, getting ready to leave. How was it summer holiday already?

You noticed the ends of Fred’s shirts sticking out of the sides of his trunk and you rolled your eyes. Silly boy. You reckoned he needed a lesson in folding. Properly. Had he not learned a thing from his mother?

“Not really?” you barked, shooting him a very angry gaze. Blood was rushing to your face out of pure resentment. “Bloody hell, Fred, it’s our last year at school. You can’t tell me you don’t really care, do you?”

He closed his eyes and placed his hands behind his head, relaxing at the thought of almost being out of Hogwarts for good. “I dunno, Y/N, I’m rather excited about it, actually. What’s got your wand in a knot?”

You huffed dramatically. Why didn’t anyone understand you? You sat down on your closed trunk and grumpily began to tie your shoes. “Because! It’s almost over! And we’ve got to spend as much time together as we can, don’t we, Fred? George, too. So no running off all the time next school term, yeah? Not to mention we’ve got this summer holiday now -- can’t believe we won’t see one another until September...”

“Right,” Fred replied. His eyes opened with a jolt and he sat upright rather quickly and grabbed you by the shoulders, frightening you. You brought your hand to your chest in surprise.

“Merlin, Fred!”

“What would you say, Y/N,” he began, his face in a tight-lipped, cheeky grin, “if I say you should come to the Burrow this summer?”

Your eyes widened -- both in delight and in nerves. The Burrow? Their home? You’d heard such wonderful things -- the way George had talked about it had made it seem like the most wonderful, cozy place. He knew you loved cozy things. He knew how much you’d enjoy the idea of his mum sitting by the fire, knitting away, with a cup of tea on the table next to her. It’s what he imagined you’d do too, if you were there.

“R-really?” you asked Fred now, hoping that for this one moment, he’d place his teasing aside, because you could not afford to get your hopes up again. Not now. Not after the disaster that was the Yule Ball. The almost-kiss. The night that wasn’t.

“Yeah, really,” Fred made it absolute, taking your hands in his. “C’mon! Mum and Dad won’t mind -- pretty sure Harry and Hermione might be coming for a bit, as well. You’d love it, I know you would. Not to mention George will be there, obviously--”

You swatted him playfully with the end of your shirt sleeve, your face glowing the same shade of red as the common room carpet. You ignored that statement; it was rather rude of him, actually, especially when the ball, even though it was months ago, was still fresh in your mind. Ever-present. That silly cheek kiss. The twirling in your dress. The giggles that echoed in your ears. It was all still there, painfully and excitingly so.

But the prospect of hanging around the Burrow with your very best friends was inviting. How could you not, when the offer was right in front of you? How could you possibly decline? Hadn’t you just said you wanted to spend as much time together as you could? A small grin lifted your cheeks and your eyes brightened at the thought. “Okay then, Freddie. Count me in.”

He smiled and placed a hand to your knee. “Atta girl.”

“Ooh! I’ve got to go and tell George!”

Before you could grab your trunk and make your way through the portrait hole, Fred jumped to his feet and ran toward the exit. He placed his hand on his chest. “No, no -- let me, alright? Besides, miss,” he pointed to your spellbooks lying in a heap next to your feet, “you’ve still got packing to do.”

And before you could fight him on it, he winked at you and hopped into the corridor, vanishing before your eyes. You scoffed and looked down at your spellbooks and began placing them into your bag. What was that look in Fred’s eyes just before he’d left? Exuberance? Delight? ...mischief? Why couldn’t you shake the feeling that Fred Weasley was definitely up to something?

________________

The Burrow was glowing underneath the summer sunlight. George, Fred, Ron, Ginny, Harry, and Hermione were hovering in the sky on their broomsticks, playing a bit of Quidditch in the sweltering heat. George, annoyed that his twin had made him play Keeper, of all positions, wiped a bit of sweat from his forehead.

“You’re a right git, Fred!” George called as the elder twin threw the Quaffle right passed his head. George, in an attempt to block it, flipped completely upside down, nearly falling off of his broom. Ginny squealed with laughter alongside Ron. A natural Chaser, Fred was. He reckoned he’d play that position if he wasn’t such a bloody brilliant Beater. But George -- a Keeper? He wasn’t the greatest.

Molly was rummaging around the kitchen. Straightening up. You’d be arriving soon, wouldn’t you? She had a pot of tea on. All of the children flooded into the house. “Don’t make a mess!” Molly huffed, “I’ve just tidied up!”

“Mum, why on Earth have you got tea on? It’s bloody blazing outside!” George asked. He dipped his head under the sink and ran cold water over his head. Molly swatted him with her rag.

“Oh, George, get out from under there, won’t you? Straighten yourself up.” She pulled at his sweaty shirt, ran a hand through his very askew hair to try and straighten it, and wiped a bit of sweat from his face, just like she had when he was a little boy. Then she turned to Fred, Ron, and the others. “You lot, as well! She’ll be here soon!”

“Sorry,” George asked, noting the very bright grin spreading across Fred’s face. “But.. who will be here soon?”

There was a quiet knock at the door. Nervously, you stepped across the threshold -- a bag slung over your shoulder, your hair pulled into a neat side ponytail, a pale yellow tee shirt beneath your overalls. “Erm -- don’t mean to bother --”

“Oh!” Molly squealed. She immediately rushed toward the door and pulled you into an incredibly tight embrace. She smelled of rosemary and lavender. She cupped your face in her hands and peered down at you with the most warm and welcoming smile. “We’re so happy to have you, Y/N. Come! I’ve just set a pot of tea!”

You hadn’t even had time to thank Molly for letting you stay before Fred was tugging you into his arms. He was yucky -- all sweaty from being outside, but he didn’t let go. In fact, he just squeezed you harder, the sweat from his head dripping onto your clothes. Ick. “Bloody finally, was wondering when the hell you were going to show up,”

“Language, Frederick!” Molly barked.

You grinned excitedly at Fred and made your rounds. The Burrow was even more beautiful than you’d imagined, more beautiful than their stories. Several stories high, swallowed fully in cozy autumn colors. You could see now, as you peered at every single crevice of the home, why the Weasleys loved it so much. You wanted to live here, too.

“So happy you were able to come,” Ginny told you as she grasped your arms. It seemed that everyone was incredibly elated to have you join for the remainder of the summer. Everyone, that is, except for George.

He was standing on the other end of the kitchen, frozen solid, as if his feet had been cemented into the ground. He had half a glass of water placed right to his lips, but he wasn’t drinking. His whole entire body was rigid. His eyes wide with wonder. What on Earth were you doing here? In his house?

“Y/N,” he said, finally finding his voice. A bit croaky. He was trying not to stare, he really was, but he was finding it difficult. He genuinely could not peel his eyes off of you. Maybe it was the way your eyes were glistening. Maybe it was the way your dimples appeared as your lazy grin grew on your face. Perhaps, he thought, it was the very bright magenta colored ribbon in your hair, tied perfectly into a small bow at the top of your head. It was a color he’d never seen before, but one, he realized, he wanted to learn all about. “I--I didn’t know you were coming.”

“You didn’t?”

You peered at George quizzically, the two of you standing across from each other, not moving. The entire scene was rather dramatic, actually -- Fred, behind you, stifling a bit of laughter and snorting -- Molly, flushed and confused, because how could her son not know you were coming for a visit? Surely he’d heard them all discussing it the last few days? Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny, giggling slightly at the sight of a very flustered, very nervous, very obvious George.

“Freddie,” you said, whirling around to face the elder twin. “I thought you said you were going to tell him?”

A cheeky, mischievous grin appeared on Fred’s lips. “Whoops -- must’ve forgotten.”

“I’m sorry --” George started, placing his hands on the counter, trying his best not to grin like an idiot. “How long have you two been planning this?”

“Since the last day of term!” you said, finally moving forward and pulling him into a tight hug. It was very difficult for George to not melt completely into you. He did anyway, though. It’d been weeks since an embrace from you, one he’d been yearning for. Dreaming of. He’d been positively woebegone when he’d hugged you goodbye on the platform at King’s Cross. Can’t wait to see you soon! You’d said, your grin large and eyes sparkling. George had just thought you meant the new school term come September. He had no bloody idea --

Your body molded perfectly into his, and he breathed in the smell of your hair -- strawberries, he reckoned. With a dash of mint. You continued, pulling back, “I can’t believe Fred didn’t tell you!”

George, a bit woozy from the sight of you, straightened himself up and ran a hand quickly through his hair. He then cleared his throat and spoke, trying to sound casual. “I know! But, even so. Happy to have you here,” he told you, grinning at the sight of your exuberance. “More than.”

“Me too, Georgie.”

George’s happiness didn’t stop him from shooting a very scathing look at his cackling twin in the corner.

________________

You were there. Just a few floors away. You were there -- in his house, in the middle of summer holiday, for four weeks! A whole bloody month!

“I’m going to absolutely kick your arse, Fred.”

“Feeling a bit hostile, are we, Georgie? None of that in this house. Mum will have your head, I reckon.”

Fred laughed to himself as he slid into his bed and propped himself up on his pillows. He gazed at the ceiling and then at his half unpacked trunk in the corner of the room. He waited for the younger twin across the room to speak.

“Why the bloody hell didn’t you tell me?”

“I reckon because I get a right kick out of seeing you get all high strung and edgy at the mere sight of her, mate.”

George scoffed. “I could’ve used a bit more preparation, you know.”

“Mhmm.”

“She was perfect -- with that ribbon and those overalls and everything. She smelled like strawberries, Fred. Strawberries. And there I was, disgusting from your bloody Quidditch match. I’ve probably scared her off.”

Fred wanted to tell his brother how dramatic he was being, but instead, he snorted this time and threw his pillow directly at George, who groaned beneath it when it landed on his face.

“Think this is funny, do you?”

“Yeah, I do, actually.”

And George tried to hold back his laughter when Fred started on again, he really did, but he had to admit -- it was kind of funny.

He was happy. Over the bloody moon, actually. You were here, weren’t you? And you both had an entire month to do whatever you pleased. He stared through the darkness in his room, wide-eyed, the prospect of the rest of the holiday laid out in front of him like a map. He could show you the village, he could show you where he and Fred used to play as kids, his favorite shops! He could take you across the hills outside the Burrow and you two could spend the day outside under the summer sun and maybe, just maybe, his heart willing, he’d tell you. He’d tell you how his heart had skipped a beat at the sight of you in your dress at the ball. How the butterflies had danced around his stomach the entire night he spent twirling you. How he’d kept on joking just to hear you laugh. How he’d nearly short-circuited at the feeling of your lips on his cheek, just barely -- so close to his own. How he didn’t sleep that night, because all he could think about was you. Beautiful, perfect, golden -- ever-the-innocent. Ever-the-wonder.

Maybe he’d find a way to pluck up the courage. And maybe, just maybe, he thought, you’d tell him you couldn’t stop thinking about him either.

________________

“That’s where Fred and I got our love of pranks,”

George pointed to a shop in the middle of the village. It was bright and vibrant and inviting. He watched as your eyes lit up at the sight of it. You were breathless. “How old were you when you first went there?”

“Four or five, maybe?”

It was overcast today, a bit cloudy, but it wasn’t going to stop George from bringing you into the village -- especially since he was finally alone with you. He’d finally lost his family in the crowd, thank Merlin. It was a bit cool, too, and George watched as you pulled your purple cardigan tighter around you. He reached out and touched your shoulder.

“And that there,” he pointed to a small little shop off the beaten path -- quiet and gray, a bit lonely -- “that’s mum’s favorite tea shop.”

“I’m so happy you took me here, George.”

“Are you?”

“Yes!” you squealed excitedly. You pulled a bit on his shirt and stopped short in the middle of the crowded street. “I love this, all of it. Wish I’d grown up here. Wish I’d known you when we were younger.”

George felt his insides twist into a very tight knot at the thought.

“Which reminds me,” your eyes brightened as you clapped your hands together. “Your mum promised me tonight she’d show me your baby photos!”

Yep, the knot had quickly tightened even more and shot straight into his throat. He didn’t need to be embarrassed in his own home. “Erm -- dunno if that’s such a good idea.”

“Come on -- I want to see how cute you were!”

He grinned a bit and watched as horror took over your face.

“Not--not that you’re not cute now. Not that I’m looking at you that way! I mean, you are cute, Georgie -- I mean -- I just --” you sighed dramatically. George watched as your cheeks went pink. “I just want to see you as a kid,”

He couldn’t stop laughing. How much more adorable could you get? How much more beautiful? he thought. His musings must’ve called out a signal to the universe, because a very large storm cloud appeared in the sky directly over the tiny little village and opened up almost immediately.

Before you knew it, you were both soaked from head to toe. “Come on!” he yelled over the shouts of the crowd and grabbed your hand. But you pulled him back and stayed put. Your hair was now separated in fat, wet strands -- half of it plastered to the sides of your face. Your cardigan was soaked. Your shoes muddy. Your makeup streaky. And yet, as you danced around and splashed in the puddles, you were still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his entire life.

The rain had stopped almost as quickly as it had started, and George noticed you were the only two in the middle of the street now. Surely, everyone else had run inside to escape the impactful -- albeit quick -- rainstorm. You jumped dramatically in the puddle in front of him, splashing the bottoms of his jeans and his shoes, and he said to you, warmth overtaking him despite his cold, rain soaked clothes, “You’re a wonder, you are. Like a little kid.”

Normally a comment like that would bother you. A little kid? You? How rude! You were perfectly capable of acting like an adult, thank you very much. But the way George said it, the way the words so effortlessly escaped from his lips -- it was more of a compliment than anything else. You wondered if, maybe, possibly, somehow, he’d love you in spite of it. No, no, because of it. Your innocence. “Why? You giggled, reaching out and touching his arm. You watched as the raindrops fell from his eyelashes every time he blinked. “Because I like to splash in puddles, Georgie?”

“Yes,” he replied breathlessly and pushed a piece of hair behind your ear, “because you like to splash in puddles.”

This is the moment, he thought. Your eyes were softer than they ever had been. He was almost certain he could hear the pounding of your heart. Perhaps it was his. Either way, there was something different about you now -- something different about the look in your eye, as soon as he’d reached out to touch you. Fondness. He was going to tell you, in the middle of this desolate street, underneath the overcast sky, just how overwhelming his feelings have been, ever since that day. Ever since you noticed him. Ever since he’d made you laugh, that time, in Charms. How he’d wanted to make you laugh ever since. How he wanted to make you smile the largest of smiles. I’m the one who’s been sending you those gifts. It’s me. I’ve loved you since the day I met you. The words were on the tip of his tongue --

“Oi! What’re you two doing out here?”

George grimaced at the sound of Ron’s voice; bloody hell, they’d found you. Easy, now, since the crowd had dispersed. George relished the thought of pulling you into an empty store to escape his family yet again, but it was too late. They’d noticed you. Good Godric, how much longer was he going to hold this in? It’s not very often feelings of bravery about you overtake him --

“Been playing in the rain again, Y/N, haven’t you?”

“Perhaps I was, Freddie. Something you ought to try sometime, I reckon.”

“Let’s get home!” Molly called to you all. She tutted at the sight of your soaked clothes and wrapped her shawl around your shoulders. “Oh, dear -- come, then, the Burrow awaits. I’ve got nice bowls of soup to warm you all up.”

George just stood where he was as Hermione and Ginny tugged you along to head back to the Burrow, staring at the spot you had been in front of him -- moon-eyed and shivering from the rain. Soft and close to him. Just inches away.

He felt an arm drape across his shoulder. “I can see why you fancy her so much, son.”

Arthur pulled George along, a few feet behind the rest of the crowd. George was moving forward, but wasn’t sure how. He couldn’t feel his legs or his feet. “W-what? Dad, I dunno what you’re on about.”

“Always have been a right awful liar, you have!” Arthur’s haughty laughter echoed through the street, now filling with people. “It’s why I was always able to catch you and Fred when you were younger -- you wear your heart right here!” he pointed to George’s sleeve.

“Dad,” George said through gritted teeth, both embarrassed and relieved that someone, anyone, other than Fred knew of his feelings. He swallowed his nerves and just went for it. “Nobody’s told her, have they?”

“And revealed the very best of you? No, son, I reckon your mother would have their heads.” Arthur replied. George pulled at his red hair, a carbon copy of his father’s when he was George’s age.

And suddenly, George felt a bolt of confidence race through his veins. “I was going to tell her. Right before you lot showed up. How I feel, I mean. You reckon I should? Or would I look like a prat?”

George had never really fancied discussing girls with his father -- or with anyone, for that matter, except for Fred. He’d always felt awkward about it. Being open. Being vulnerable. Letting people into his heart. But now, standing here with his father, watching the girl he’s loved for so many years -- the girl he hoped, one day, would become his wife -- he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could open his heart a bit more.

Arthur laughed again and squeezed George’s shoulder. “Not a prat, son. A brave man. You tell her when you’re ready. We’ll all be waiting.”

George, stunned, turned to look at his dad now, wide-eyed and confused. “What do you mean ‘we’ll all be waiting’?”

“Well we all love her, don’t we?” Arthur prodded on. The Burrow was in view now. George watched as you and Ginny began to do cartwheels across the hills, Ron and Fred and Hermione and Harry laughing at it all. He felt a smile lift his cheeks. Arthur continued, “Your mum adores her, you know, as does everyone else.” You turned around and raised a hand to them both before going into another cartwheel, landing in the wet grass, earning yourself laughs from your friends. You -- not poised in the slightest, but still the cutest thing he’d ever seen -- golden against the now cotton candy colored sky, and him -- desperately in love, heart on his sleeve, his feelings nearly pouring out of him. Without a shred of doubt -- he knew what being in love meant. This was being in love. George couldn’t help but laugh at his father’s next words: “And son, did you know? She knows all about these Muggle contraptions! Hope you don’t mind, but, she’s promised to tell me all about some of them after supper. Merlin’s beard!”

tag list: @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @darling-details @laneygthememequeen @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @waschbiber @dreamer821 @feffffffy @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasleyy @obsessedwithrandomthings @sleep-i-ness @shadowsinger11 @harrysweasleys @shadychaoticcollection @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @hood-and-horan @geeksareunique @insearchofnewdreams @notstandingstill-imlyinginwait @lumos-barnes @thatfuckingliardavidtennant @slytherinqween @xinyourdreamsx @skiving-snackboxess @wildfire-whizbangs @dwarfwizard-from-panem @diary-of-an-onliner @answer-the-sirens@woakiees @black-widow-fangirl @theheirofnightandday @summerstardust @whysoseriouspadfoot @chocok22 @myhopesareanchoredinyou @siriusblackisme @illusivedaydreamer @zeeneee @writingwitchly @wolfpotter12 @obsessedwithrandomthings @carolinesbookworld @shadowsinger11 @pit-and-the-pen @summer-writes @peachesandpinks @gweaslvy @alpinewinchester @letsfightsomeorcs @theweasleysredhair @purpleskiesstorm @hxfflxpxffs @wand3ringr0s3 @finecole

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buck-nialled · 3 years

Text

Undertow - S. Mendes (VII)

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5 // Chapter 6 // Undertow Character Quiz

CH VII: Not So Casual Confessions

Wesley’s voice was barely heard as Shawn finally bellowed a plea.

“B-because I love her, okay? I love Y/N!” Every person stood in the cove stilled for an uncertain amount of time. “The day I met her was the same day I was basically banned from the sea for who knows how long and she saved my life. Maybe that was the universe’s way of bringing the ocean to me so I wouldn’t go insane, I don’t know.” Shawn lets an unamused laugh escape, as does Y/N. Hers goes unnoticed by Merlin and Ripley--especially Ripley--as they become captivated by his response.

“But...she made me realize I couldn’t care less if my life was on land or in water, just as long as she is in it. So, you can leave me dead here for all I care. Do whatever you’re gonna do to try and get answers, but don’t expect me to give you anything.” His eyes flicker down to Sandy, still in the viscous grip of his owner. Slowly, Ripley loosens his tight fist around the slimy tube of its body before the eel is flopping to the ground and slithering back into the waters.

“You...love her? A human loves an Atlantean?”

“Yes,” Shawn groans as a painful tremor sweeps through his abdomen. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

Ripley’s body resembled a beached animal from how eagerly he surged onto the sandy beaches of Hawaii. After reviewing Atlantean history today at Abyssington High and discovering the original plans to venture to the surface and make relationships with Homo sapiens, the urge he had attempted to fight for eighteen months finally motivated Ripley’s legs to carry himself onto land. Of course, he grew up knowing this type of action was forbidden amongst all sea folk and considered treason. If caught venturing to shore by anybody under the surface, he could be charged and sentenced to a life behind bars in the most shameful location and under the highest security--the King’s dungeon.

How Ripley discovered interest in land walker culture? Well, the story isn’t quite a nail-biter. One day while swimming towards the shallower ends of the sea, a sinking brick caught his eye. After swimming towards it and examining the material, he concluded it was not those plastic rings most turtles get tied around their fins, nor the transparent shrapnel he had been warned to keep away from in fear of being sliced to bits. It was a tough piece of plank with thinly sliced papers in between, each holding various names and places. After skimming through each page with lit eyes and enamor for his new discovery, Ripley flipped back to the plank at the front to read the large word staring back at him.

“Encyclopedia.”

It was the only treasure of his that he decided to sneak up to the surface with. The book was far too heavy for him to add anything else to the load. After surging himself to the surface, he finds the famous, red landmark staring back at him. It was one which he had meticulously mapped and been swimming to for weeks. A sight which he could never grow tired of. Even it’s picture, filed under the letter ’G’ made his heart lurch for a change of scenery whenever he perused it. Staring before the real thing in front of him and knowing at one point he could be standing on it looking down at the home he had left made his heart start matching the beat of an erratic kick drum.

When he marched onto land for the first time, feeling his feet sink into dirt which was dry, Ripley was appalled at the fact that this was still the same planet. He continued in one direction, not exactly sure what to do now or where his unmarked destination would be. Finally, he shoved his way through trees and stumbled onto a square of cement. Seconds later, his entire body was vulnerable lying atop it.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” Ripley’s eyes fluttered open and he brought a hand to his forming concussion. A young woman, no older than him and adorning a vibrant tracksuit halter her jogging on the pavement and leaned down to inspect him for any superficial injuries. Her eyes were shaped like almonds and held the most gorgeous jade color. It’s hue was incomparable to the coral reefs he had been witness to for the last eighteen years. And he thinks it’s his new favorite sight above the Golden Gate Bridge.

“Are you alright?” With the guidance of her soft hand, Ripley shimmied himself into a sitting position and brought up his arm, which was suffering a light stinging sensation. “I’m leaking ...red.”

The girl before him snorts out a laugh, “you’re bleeding. And you’re soaking wet. Where did you come from?” Blinking at her a couple of times, Ripley fully stands up and turns to study the progress he has made on his journey so far. Lazily, he points to the red, steel ladders native to those in San Francisco and she inhales a sharp breath through the nose.

“You jumped?”

“No.” He looks at her. “I swam.”

Furrowing her brows, she nearly scoffs in disbelief at the story of this man slowly unraveling before her. Nevertheless, she remained intrigued and asks, “what’s your name?”

“Ripley.”

“Well, Ripley, I happen to live a few blocks down and own a dryer and some bandages if you’d like to come with.”

“Okay.” He nods, cueing the two to begin their walk back to her home. “What’s a dryer?” He asks, turning to her. And though she should have been concerned for how hard of a fall the man had taken, she elicits a string of giggles without further thought.

“You have a lot of explaining to do when we get back.”

And when they did get back, Ripley did not know what to say. Though it was nice leaving his home to discover a new one named San Francisco, a part of him still remained allegiant to his loved one’s below the surface.

“I can’t really remember much.” Is the excuse he gave. He hoped the questions would end there, but to his dismay, Stephanie continued her interrogation.

“What’s with the book.” She arched an eyebrow, pointing a finger down at the encyclopedia still in his grip. He opened it up, being careful when flipping each wilted page before coming across the landmark he was basking in the sight of not too long ago.

“I wanted to come here. And see it.” Humming, Stephanie nods and reaches a hand toward the book.

“May I?” Ripley nods, relinquishing the book over to her hold and letting her flip through the pages as she pleased.

“One day, when I become a marine biologist and get rich...this is where I’m going.” She turned the book towards Ripley, allowing his eyes to scan the picture in all of its beauty. The setting sun highlighting the sand and bouncing off of people’s glowing skin. The palm trees casting the perfect shade and shaking in the breeze made Ripley want to take Stephanie and swim with her straight there.

“Where is this?” His finger darted out to trace over the photo, as Stephanie read the title of the section.

“Hawaii.” The word sounded like a symphony when it bounced off of her tongue. It felt like Ripley’s insides were rolling down a hill of lush green grass and never wanted to stop.

“Let’s go.”

“Ripley, you can’t just up and leave like that. I mean, you probably have a life and family here…” she begins objecting.

“I wanna go wherever you go.” She turns from the hypnotizing photo of Hawaii’s sunset to his aqua blue eyes, just as mesmerizing. A smile creeps onto her lips, and suddenly, the word “no” seems displeasing to say. So instead she answers with an optimistic,

“Okay.”

“It’s not,” Ripley says, but is startled as another voice joins him in sync. This cues the man to turn, along with Merlin and come face to face with the wanted runaway.

“You were right, Rip.” Merlin elicits a string of menacing chuckles and administers a clap of his hand against his friend’s back. “She swam right after him.” But Ripley’s eyes were already transfixed elsewhere. Specifically, on his stunned child.

“Wesley...I--”

“Dad, what the hell are you doing?” The young man bustled past both of the knights to find his past competitor twitching and curling into himself against the stone floor.

“I...I don’t know, son. It was never meant to go this far--”

“You nearly killed him, dad! God, and for what? What were you going to get out of this?” Wesley ripped mercilessly at the seaweed keeping Shawn’s hands captive.

Ripley repeated his son’s question over and over to himself. No logical answer came up other than saving himself and his family.

“I was trying to protect you--”

“Protect me?” he scoffs. “By kidnapping and beating one of my friends? If you really cared about protecting me, you would actually tell me why you’re always leaving and where you’re going to. You would stay behind and actually ask me how me and mom have been since you’ve left us for some job we don’t even know anything about! More importantly, you would have told me about this!” Wesley retrieves his phone from his pocket, turning the screen towards his father.

Silence passed among the group for a few seconds, before Merlin took the initiative to lean towards Ripley and whisper to him, “You see a black screen too, right?”

“Uh . . . Wesley . . .” Y/N says, glowering her eyes at the boy. Humming, he turns the phone around for himself and gasps. Droplets of water were the only evidence as to what caused the unresponsive device.

“Huh? Oh no, no…” He pats the electronic against his hand, persistently pressing the power button in hopes of some illumination on the screen. His endeavor was fruitless, however, and left the boy sighing in despair. “I knew I should have gotten the warranty.”

“It was a map of the kingdom,” Y/N grumbles beside Ripley. “Not that it really matters anymore.”

“So what are you gonna do now? Take me in?” she asks, turning her stare from Ripley to Merlin. She tries to ignore Shawn’s eyes burning into her profile with dread for what was to come. She just hopes to have one last moment of staring into the hazel rings of his and maybe having her choke her--or kiss her, she is still confused on which was supposed to occur--before she is sentenced to life beneath the water forever.

“Yep.” Merlin smiles proudly to himself.

“No,” says Ripley, earning a hawk from everybody in the room.

“What?” His fellow knight stands beside him, baffled.

“What? I mean—“ Y/N clears her throat. “That’s right you’re not. Now, let Shawn free and we’ll all return back to land,” she commands in an authoritative voice, setting her hands against her hips Shawn’s hands could not wait to squeeze when he finally got the chance to hug her.

“Rip…” Merlin stops him with a hand against his forearm. “What are you doing?”

But Ripley ignores it, absorbing the sight before him. His son finished unraveling all of the seaweed that restrained Shawn’s hands earlier. Y/N approached him cautiously, and bent down to her knees to study the inflictions left on the boy’s skin from Sandy. Shawn tries not to concentrate on his new wounds, and rather, begins rattling compliments toward the woman in front of him.

“That-that dress looks nice on you,” he gulps.

A grin climbs onto her face upon the sight of Shawn’s red cheeks. “I think you already told me that earlier.”

“Well, I’m still right,” he claims through shaky chuckles.

“Eh,” She shrugs, staring down at the floral-patterned fabric. “I think I prefer your hoodie.” A snort comes from Shawn.

He retorts, “I think I’d prefer that thing in the garbage. It probably smelled awful when I gave it to you. And it’s covered in stains and...blegh.” He stiffens when Y/N’s warm hand is pressed against one of his cheeks, which now feels as though it is burning.

“I think I’d prefer you...and your brown eyes...and more of those…”

“Moments?” Shawn offers with a quirk of his eyebrow.

“Yeah, definitely more of those.” She grins, before the unfortunate moment the two shared earlier came to mind. “I’m sorry about what I said...you were right. Getting anywhere close to the water was a mistake.”

“No, I’m sorry. I mean, this is your home for crying out loud. I couldn’t ask you to just abandon it overnight...especially when you make a damn good lifeguard.” His hand reaches to guide a wet tendril behind Y/N’s ear.

“This isn’t my home, Shawn. My home is here, in Hawaii, with cheeseballs and shopping trips with Aaliyah and seafood nights...and you.”

“And Connor.” Shawn adds, earning a chuckle from the girl before him.

“And Connor.” She repeats.

“And Wesley.” The boy straggling behind them coughs, before turning to admire the stone surrounding them.

“And Wesley...but mostly you.” Watching the two lovesick strangers from afar was like staring into a portal from his past. The sight brought proud tears to Ripley’s eyes, despite his attempts to keep his emotions at bay.

“You know that it’s our lives on the line if you let her go,” Merlin states bitterly through his teeth. Ripley’s eyes shine with pride at the scene of Wesley now surveying the cove for the first time, with the two love struck young adults exploring one another’s eyes only a few feet away.

“I know.”

“I’m gonna make sure no one else is coming,” Merlin says. Ripley merely hums, too lost in the moment to be bothered by the knight’s complaints. Merlin glances at Shawn and Y/N, remembering his mission. He slowly walks to the edge of the cove, keeping his eyes on Wesley, who crouched down on a rock and staring at the distant shoreline. With one last breath he slipped into the water, swimming back to Atlantis a fast as he could.

Wesley ran his hand across the top of the water, paying attention to nothing but the ripples he was creating. He felt oddly calm considering how chaotic the past hour had been.

“You know,” Y/N said as she came up behind him. “this is where Shawn and I first met.”

“Really?” Wesley asked. “Was it a ‘meet cute?’”

“I don’t know what that means, but sure,” Y/N chuckled.

“Either way, he definitely likes you.”

“Gee, I wonder where you got that idea from.”

“Just in case you weren’t 100 percent sure.” He turned his head to look at her, offering a small smile.

“Okay, well the fate of humanity depends on us getting to work so I need to explain the plan and get going so you guys can get back to shore.” She nudged his hip and nodded back to Ripley and Shawn, who seemed to take no shame in maintaining their distance.

Wesley grunted as he stood up. “What do you mean ‘you go down and we go back to shore?’”

“We saved Shawn but we didn’t stop the tsunami,” Y/N stated matter of factly. “I have to go down there to finish this.”

“You can’t go down there alone.”

“Why not? That’s the plan.” She turned back towards Shawn and Ripley, feeling like the area was emptier than it was when she first showed up.

“No, the plan was for us to all go down there and finish this off together,” Wesley snapped, drawing Y/N’s attention back to him.

“It’s way too dangerous for you and Shawn to go. You don’t have a map and you didn’t memorize it earlier so there’s no chance I’m letting you come with me.”

“I don’t want you going down there alone.”

“You’re not my father. You don’t get to make that choice for me!” The raise of her voice caught Shawn’s attention. He furrowed his eyebrows at what he was witnessing, still not sure as to what was going on and why he was in the cove again.

“But I’m your friend, Y/N! And as your friend, I care about you and I don’t want you shoving yourself into dagner just ‘cause!”

“I don’t think you understand the gravity of this situation, Wesley.”

“What is going on over here?” Shawn asked as he approached the two, a cautious arm slung over the front of his abdomen while he attempted steady footsteps. RIpley, still feeling a weight of guilt sunken like an anchor in the pit of his stomach from his earlier actions, maintains distance but is still in earshot.

“Y/N’s throwing herself into the face of danger like it’s nothing and we’re not allowed to come with her.” Wesley threw his arm out in frustration, letting it fall to his side with a smack.

“Y/N?” Shawn said her name with hesitance. “Is that true?”

“This tsunami isn’t going to stop itself and you guys won’t make it out alive if you come with me.”

“What do you mean ‘go down there’? What in the world is going on right now?”

“Oh my gosh, how many times do I have to explain this?” Y/N groaned with a roll of her eyes.

“It’s only been one time so far,” Wesley muttered, earning a shove and glare from Shawn.

“There’s a tsunami. It was a distraction so they could kidnap you. I have to go to Atlantis to stop it. You guys are gonna go back to shore. End of story.”

“That is definitely not the end of the story.”

“Wesley, I swear I am going to feed you to the dolphins if you don’t shut up.” Before Wesley could even protest, a few disapproving cries came from Douglas and his pod.

“Oh, you’ve eaten worse.” Y/N turns her head, sharpening her glare at the bottle noses.

“No, wait...say that again,” Ripley directs, now with wide eyes. He walks closer to the group of dolphins, still bobbing in the waters leading onto the rocky platform of the cove. As instructed, Douglas and the others repeat the same series of chirps. Simultaneously, Y/N and Ripley bothe elicit petrified gasps.

Wesley and Shawn stood beside another, watching the scene unfold before them with a feeling of trepidation blossoming inside of both of them. “Do you understand what’s happening?” Wesley whispers into Shawn’s ear.

“Not a clue,” Shawn replies in a similar, hushed tone.

“Merlin went to the king to share our location, that’s what’s happening. We need to leave, now,” she says to Ripley, who confirms her order with a nod. “Douglas, get Shawn and Wesley back to shore.”

“What? No. Did you not just hear me say ‘this is not the end of the story’?” Wesley cries, before a loud clap of a crashing wave makes the group collectively flinch. Slowly, the tide began rising higher and higher, ultimately beginning to fill the cove to the top of its coarse walls.

“I think somebody heard you,” Shawn remarks--but his voice is nearly drowned by another harsh wave against the cove’s exterior. He is now fretful as his feet, once planted to the platform, are now hovering over it as he tried to keep his head above water. The dolphins began overlapping in their clicks and squeals.

“It’s the king,” Ripley begins. “He’s gonna fill this cave up to the brim.” He and Y/N, too began bobbing up and down as the water began a drastic rise.

“Well, you two can breathe underwater so what’s the big...ohhh…” Wesley shares a sheepish look with the three.

“Maybe if we swim out he’ll stop,” Y/N suggests.

“What? No, you two are not going out there. Do you know what he’ll do to you?” Shawn asks.

“Do you not realize what he’s doing to you two right now? You’re both forty seconds away from holding your breath for who knows how long—“

“Seven minutes,” Wesley interjects.

“It doesn’t matter,” Ripley and Y/N reply in sync.

“Seven minutes? Dude that’s impressive,” says Shawn, slightly envious. He looks back to Y/N and Ripley, both giving him a look of disdain.

Shawn clears his throat, “Sorry.”

“You’ll still both be dead in minutes. This current is too strong for you two to push through, remember? There’s no other option…” Once again, she turns back to Douglas, who is already awaiting for further instruction.

“Douglas, take them back to shore, please.” Douglas alerts the others of his clan,. Swiftly, the rubbery grey bodies are seen swooping Shawn and Wesley out of the cove as fast as their fins could carry them, not even leaving time for the two boys to protest.

“Are you ready?” She shares what may be a final look with her ex-nemesis, and is somewhat grateful for him now being an ally.

“You kidding? I’ve been waiting for twenty-three years.” The rising water finally fulfills its duty in submerging the two Atlanteans in the deep blue. Their eyes bore deep into one another’s, illuminating a near identical aqua.

“Let’s do this.”

The two surge out into the deep, barely feeling the coral and other bottom-dwellers graze their feet as they journey a reasonable distance from the cove. Precocious, the two scan their surroundings for any threat which could be headed their way. Alas, they were met with relatively clear waters, other than a few finned friends swimming past them without care.

“I don’t understand, where’s the--” before she could finish her question, Y/N’s temple was met with a brutal force that knocked her to the sea floor. Groaning, her eyelids fluttered open and she endured a throbbing feeling on the side of her skull while witnessing the sight of Ripley, already put under beside her. A looming shadow draws her stare up, and she elicits another groan at the sight of its gaping mouth and filtering gils, swimming in circles above her.

“Hammerheads.” She murmurs in distaste, before her new head trauma lulls her into unconsciousness.

LOOK OUT FOR THE NEXT PART OF UNDERTOW COMING 4/2/21!

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