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p4lparker · 3 years ago

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Part of the Pack

The aggressive alpha threw you away as if you weighed nothing, like a broken toy or a floppy rag doll. You felt your body crash into the concrete wall. It crumpled in on itself- nothing felt broken, as far as you knew. Well nothing apart from your pride. Thinking back, you had hoped today would be normal day- or as normal as cold be for you anyhow.

The day had started out normal, well as normal as it could when there was a new alpha in town hoping to take over the pack. Scott had warned you and so had the others, but you didn’t feel all that scared. You were just a human who ran with wolves- you weren’t supernatural and you definitely weren’t a threat to anyone or anything. Though the rest of the pack felt it necessary to keep tabs on you and Stiles constantly. They would take it in turns ‘hanging out’- which was basically babysitting you to make sure you didn’t put yourselves in danger somehow. Scott had come over and watched movies with Kira and yourself, you all were sat watching Kick Ass- when Scott perked up. Almost like a dog; he quickly sat up and brought Kira with him. You paused the movie- waiting to find out what had caused him to do so.

“Derek’s here..” Scott said, standing up and walking to the door; you followed Kira after. You stood leaning on the wall as Scott opened the door and revealed a brooding Derek. His dark brow furrowed and his face scrunched in a frown- his green eyes glaring at the three of you intently.

“I’ve been calling you for an hour and you didn’t pick up. It’s your turn to patrol the perimeter.. I’m supposed to stay with Y/N.” Derek grunted, he was still glaring- but it was mainly aimed at Scott and Kira, rather than you. You folded your arms and stayed leaning against the jam of the lounge room door. Watching as Scott and Kira collected their things and gave you a sheepish goodbye before dashing through the still open door and to Scott’s parked bike. Derek turned his almost angry gaze to you before nodding his head at the front door. You flustered for a moment before gesturing for him to enter, then closed and locked the door behind him at his instruction. Not that locking it would keep an alpha out or anything- but whatever, you did as the intimidating wolf told you and lead him through the house to the kitchen. Grabbing a glass and a can of pop from the fridge, you offered one to him which he gratefully agreed to. Offering him a glass he nodded and allowed you to pour the carbonated refreshment. You both stood in silence as you took sips from the drinks. You shared an awkward smile with Derek, who just nodded at you- not smiling back or giving any emotion away. You gestured for Derek to follow you back to the lounge- sitting down and making yourself comfortable on the sofa once more. You watched as Derek perched himself on the couch- at the other end of it. You started the movie again and allowed yourself to get sucked into watching the movie- trying not to feel on edge, Derek’s tense body and stoic facial expression was making this situation feel all the more forced.

The movie was almost over, throughout it you’d wriggled and squirmed around the sofa- all the while Derek sat still, perched on the very edge of the couch cushion. You’d tried to concentrate on the vigilantism on the screen, you found it difficult to focus; it wasn’t until Derek sat up even straighter, as if that was possible. He lifted his head and glared at the ceiling, your eyes following his. He tilted his head and sniffed the air. You watched half amused half confused as he stood and walked out of the lounge room and to the stairs of the building. All the while still sniffing at the air. Following behind him as he began to trek up the stairs, through the hall and sniffing at each door until he stopped in front of one. Yours. He sniffed deeply, before rearing back. When he finally turned to face you, you could tell something was bothering him.

"Have you left your window unlocked?" His voice gruff and demanding. You looked at him in surprise. Shaking your head quickly.

"No! Everywhere is locked up tight, like you and Scott and everyone else had ordered.." You muttered, glaring alternatively between your feet and Derek's leather clad back. All you heard in return was a grunt, before you bedroom door was roughly pushed open; the handle slamming against the pale walls and probably leaving a dent or a mark or something. Derek stalked around the room still sniffing, until he found himself standing under the sky light. The access to the roof, the wide opening window didn't work though- it wouldn't lock, so your dad nailed it shut. Derek jumped up from the floor and onto your bed, boots and all. As he stared intently at the big window above him. You watched, from your position by the door as his eyes flickered blue.

"The window is broken." Was all he uttered, the anger present in his voice.

"Yeah, it always has been.. My dad nailed it shut years ago. It wouldn't lock or anything.." You stated, shrugging your shoulders.

"No. The glass. It's broken. It's like its been lifted from the surround. And put back." Derek growled, eyes narrowing as he glared at you.

"Meaning what?" You asked, terror seeping into your words that you couldn't control. You were sure, Derek could hear how fast your heart was beating even without his wolf hearing. The tension in the room and your bodies built.

"Meaning, I don't know how long the alpha may have been coming in here. Meaning I don't think you're safe here.." Derek answered. His eyes narrowed still, but holding worry in their green depths. "C'mon." He grunted. Stalking towards you and gripping your upper arm. You struggled to keep up with his long strides, he walked out the room not even closing the door- dragging you with him as he practically ran down the stairs and out the front door. He came to a stop just short of the road, you not realising he'd stopped slammed into his back. Wincing as you nose bumped into the leather was wearing, you stumbled back and lifted your free hand to your nose checking for blood. Derek let go of your arm and glanced over his shoulder at you, dark brows drawn together. He moved towards your neighbours car, looking around him suspiciously. Raising his elbow and slamming it into the drivers side window, you shrieked. Dashing over to him quickly and gripping his arm through his jacket. Through the thick material did nothing to hide or disguise his tensed muscles. It took a moment for you to shake yourself to move your brain back to what the issue at hand was.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" You demanded, trying to tug his arm away from the broken glass- he was slowly moving his elbow to knock the remaining pieces from the frame.

"I'm stealing your neighbours car. Get in." Derek replied, as if it was the most simple thing in the world. Once the frame was clear of any sharp shards, he put his hand through and pulled the lock up. You heard the click as the internal locking mechanism worked. Opening the door, Derek threw himself into the drivers seat and waited impatiently for you to copy him. Groaning to yourself, you dashed around the front of the car and got in. Staring at Derek as he was fiddling with some wiring under the steering wheel. In a moments notice, you were off. Driving down the road quickly, Derek not really paying all that much attention to the road; he wriggled around awkwardly for a moment before pulling his phone from his jeans pocket. He looked sparingly at the road before dialling someone's number. You watched the scenery pass, you were in the warehouse district. Full of concrete walls and steel roofs.

"The alpha's been in her room. She needs to leave..." Was all he managed to get out before he was slamming the brakes on. Both of your bodies being jarred forwards, your seat belts yanking you back into the cushioned seats.

Breathing heavily as you tried to gather your bearings, you stared straight ahead of you in terror. There in the middle of the road was a great hulking beast. It was black and huge, making Peter's alpha wolf form look like a kitten in comparison. Derek stared ahead also, sizing the creature up. Before either of you could comprehend what was happening, the beast was pounding towards the stopped vehicle. Derek thinking quickly tried to put the car in reverse, but the beast just came at a quicker speed. It charged towards you on all fours and once it was close enough- it stood on two feet, reaching its clawed hands out and ripping the hood of the car to shreds. The scraping of metal made you cringe, but what petrified you was the fact that the engine was destroyed, and there was no chance for you to escape. The creature sauntered round the car, it ripped off the door on you side and snagged you from the opening. You screamed. Derek flustered with his seat belt before he leapt from the destroyed vehicle. It didn't take long for you to realise that he was in full wolf form, but you also resigned yourself to the fact that he wouldn't be able to save you. He stood no chance against the monstrosity holding you captive in its sharp claws- you struggled to breath.

Your throat being constricted dangerously as you were held captive. You watched through bleary and unfocused eyes as Derek launched himself from the car; his eyes shining a bright blue, claws protruding from his hands and fuzzy hair clumping on the sides of his face as his face contorted into that of his wolf form. He dashed towards where the Alpha had you clasped, he started throwing slashes here and there. Desperately trying to free you from the monster. Though, the alpha did little more than seat Derek away as if he were nothing more than a fly. Derek didn't give up though, he kept coming- attacking again every time he got thrown back. You could feel your breathing becoming more laboured as the claws tightened. You felt the darkness calling to you like an old friend. You hadn't noticed that the rest of the pack; Malia, Isaac, Scott, Kira and Alison all joining Derek in trying to rescue you. Your eyes had fallen shut, and you felt consciousness slipping away. It wasn't until you felt someone stroking hair from your face gently, did you wake up. Peeking your eyes open to see Alison kneeling next to you- she smiled down at you as consciousness came back to your aching body.

“She’s okay guys.. but she needs moving. Like yesterday.” Alison stated as she helped to pull you up into a sitting position- you winced slightly, pain radiating from your ribs causing you to freeze. You looked to Alison, who frowned and prodded gently at your ribs; she shook her head.

“And I think she has either some cracked or broken ribs from the awkward way she’s moving..” Alison muttered, pulling you even more gently into a sitting and then standing position- in a slow but sure manner, she kept her arm supporting you. The rest of the group nodded, moving around you. It was then you took notice of them; they were all battered and bruised, deep angry looking gashes on their faces and arms. Your eyes caught sight of Derek who was favouring one arm, it cradled to his chest- which was barely covered by the shirt he had been wearing. It was slashed to smithereens, blood and skin showing through the rags, Alison and Kira helped you stand- staying close until they were sure you were steady on your feet.

“The Alpha’s gone for now. He’s off to lick his wounds. But I have no doubt that he’ll be back and soon. Y/N needs to be somewhere safe and secure- I vote we take her to the old train car.” Isaac stated, mainly directing his words to Derek and Scott who both nodded.

“There’s at least two other scents that’ll mask yours and hers, you should be safe their until we can get rid of this guy… Even if we have to chase him from Beacon- he’s gone.” Scott stated, you didn’t miss the red circling his irises as he spoke. He looked determined, and you knew not to be afraid. Scott was an alpha. He was a true alpha. He was your alpha- even if you weren’t a wolf. And with that the others were off, you looked to Derek still cradling his arm and knew he wouldn’t be able to drive. Looking around, you spotted the demolished car not too far from you- sighing as you had no way of getting to the train car. Derek grunted and nodded his head to the left, you followed him. Hoping he knew where he was going, as you had no idea. You followed as he walked through the maze of practically identical buildings- leading you left and right and left again. Hoping like hell you wouldn’t have to navigate your way out yourself, as you had no chance of remembering and would probably end up living in this concrete jungle like a hermit. Soon enough you were standing in front of the abandoned subway- staring wide eyed as Derek had successfully navigated you both there- you had no idea it was so close, but then you realised that, that was the reason Isaac had suggested it to begin with. If the Alpha’s scent was covering the area, he probably wouldn’t return to it and you’d be safe- or safer. You followed Derek into the abandoned area and shivered. It felt so lonely- you remembered Boyd and Erica, smiling faintly before it slipped off your face all together. Moving further into the abandoned area, you collapsed onto a tattered seat- your eyes roving over all of the graffiti and claw marks that marred the walls. Derek groaned as he too collapsed into a seat. Breathing deeply, through his nose and clenching his jaw. It was then you realised how badly he was injured. His dark features were even darker due to the bruising covering his face, the gashes and slashes in his chest and torso- still bleeding, looked angry and painful. And the awkward angle that he held his arm, showed you he was in bad shape. Pulling yourself up and off the seat- ignoring your screaming muscles, you searched slowly- or as quickly as your sluggish body would allow, for some medical supplies. Knowing that Derek’s old pack must have had something like that lying around.

Your eyes landed on a couple of old shirts that looked similar to the tattered remains on Derek’s shoulders- making your way over to them, grabbing them up and letting your eyes roam over the area- until they landed on a lock box of some sort. Moving towards it, you checked on Derek over your shoulder- he hadn’t moved, you opened it quickly and smiled lightly. There in the box sat a bottle and a half of Jack. Gripping them both and the shirts in your hands before moving back over to him. Kneeling in front of him, you let your eyes scan over his injured body once more. Derek’s eyes flicked open as he felt you pushing his knees apart- allowing you to slip between them and situate yourself more comfortably.

“I-I th-think we need to set your arm first and then deal with the..” You stated and gestured to your own chest, Derek said nothing- just nodding and delicately offering you the obviously broken arm. “You need to tell me how to do this.. I’ve watched Grey’s Anatomy plenty.. but I’ve never actually done it..” you spoke quickly the words tumbling from your lips almost of their own accord. He nodded, and grit his teeth as you gently took hold of the broken limb.

“It’s my shoulder.. it’s dislocated- you need to grab hold of my arm and pull as hard as you can. When you hear it click and me scream- you’ve set it back.. Go!” Derek commanded, your eyes were wide as you tried to remember his words. You steadied yourself and pulled as hard as you could like he said. You yanked at his arm- as he growled- pulling as hard as physically possible for you until you heard a loud and sickening click and a scream-like groan fly from his slowly healing lips as well as some more unsavoury curses- you tried to steady your breathing and not let the pain show on your face too much. You let go of his arm and fell back onto your butt, watching as he breathed deeply and a light sweat dotted his forehead. He nodded and gestured to the injuries marring his chest, you too nodded and gripped the bottle of Jack before handing it to him. He raised a brow and chuckled darkly- before shoving it back at you.

“You need it more, besides it won’t do any good for me to drink it. It won’t affect me.” Derek told you, you nodded before unscrewing the cap and taking a swig of the dark liquid- letting to sweet taste linger in your mouth before swallowing it- then taking another long gulp. Setting it down by Derek’s foot, you kneeled up and gently tried to move the shreds of material away from the affected areas- but having no luck. Derek sighed almost impatiently, before gripping the fabric in his hands and tugging- the material falling away from his glorious chest- injured, but still glorious chest. You held your breath as he shrugged his shoulders, making the material fall to rest around his hips- his torso now bare to your wide eyes. You took hold of the bottle and one of the shirts, lifting both to Derek’s chest. You took a deep breath as you tipped the bottle allowing the liquid to flow down and onto the injuries. He hissed in pain- you moved the shirt and pressed against the wound- he groaned but allowed you to continue the process until you were sure the slashes were cleaned out. You knew though- he wouldn’t heal for a good while, but the treatment you’d given would do for now. Derek nodded his thanks, you smiled shyly at him before gripping the bottle and bringing it to your lips again. Taking a deep swallow you sat back, not realising your eyes had locked with his. The deep green boring into you- you didn’t know if it was the alcohol or what, but a shiver ran down your entire body. Blinking and looking away, you let one hand slip to his thigh and pushed yourself up- still gripping the bottle, you looked over your shoulder when you felt his eyes still on you.

You turned away and took another swallow of the sweet liquid, the burn becoming a comfort now. You hadn’t heard him move until you felt him rest a hand on your shoulder. He span you around so quickly- it felt like the room was spinning around you. The bottle slipped from your lips as you stared wide eyed at him, he stepped you backwards until your back was pressed against the cool metal of the train car. Lifting one of his hands, he gently brushed his fingers against your neck- gasping softly- his fingers sweeping your hair out of the way. One of his hands stayed at your neck, gently poking over the area, whilst the other trailed down your arm and to your hand gripping the bottle- pulling it from your fingers and bringing to his lips taking a swallow himself. Before placing it near your lips offering it to you- you obliged gulping some down, he then moved it down slightly and tipped the contents onto you. Your eyes still staring into each other’s, though yours widened marginally as a stinging pain radiated from you neck.

“Looks like the Alpha got you…” Was all Derek whispered, his eyes not leaving yours as the liquid flowed over the affected are of your skin. You just stood frozen, back to the wall- alcohol dripping down your neck and chest soaking your t-shirt, teeth biting into your bottom lip as you tried to control the raging hormones in your body. All you could think of was that if he leaned just that bit closer- his inviting lips would meet your own. Your body moved of its own accord, pushing forwards slightly. Your lips pushing against his. It wasn’t a kiss, not really- it was just your lips meeting his. And he didn’t push you away- so you pressed against him harder, your wet chest meeting his. Your lips moving with his as the kiss gained momentum and passion. You weren’t sure who’s tongue slipped out first and deepened the kiss, but you were sure it was you who moaned- and you were definitely sure it was Derek who pushed away from you. He stumbled away from you, and you struggled not to giggle at the image. The big bad wolf stumbling away from little old you. A giggle must have slipped out though, because Derek glared at you. He stormed towards you- ceasing the giggles almost immediately. He stopped in front of you. His body flush against yours, glaring eyes boring into you. Before he pushed his lips against yours kissing you furiously. Soon it wasn’t just lips meeting, his teeth were scraping against your bottom lip, and clashing against your own teeth as you opened your mouth.

You moaned again. Not even caring. It felt too good, his toned chest pressed against your own- even through the saturated top, you could feel his body heat, his pecks pressing against you- his muscled abs pressing against your belly. Which felt like it was filling with liquid lava- that seeped solely into your core, giving you a pleasant ache between your legs. Derek pulled back, closing his eyes as he tilted his head and sniffed the air. His eyes narrowing as he stepped back, taking your hand and leading you after him. He stepped backwards until his knees contacted the leather of the seat, he fell back and tugged you with him. Pulling you until you were kneeling on the seat- knees each side of his hips, he pulled on your hand until your chest was hovering over him- leaving you to straddle him in the abandoned train car. He stretched his neck up to graze his lips over the fragile and broken skin of your throat- his stubble creating a delicious friction, before moving to your lips and pulling you into another passionate kiss that sent shivers straight to your core. Derek breathed deeply through his nose and growled- before pulling you down onto his lap. You fell and kissed him more comfortably as your neck wasn’t craning at an awkward angle.

Derek’s hands rested on your hips for a moment, before they ventured upwards- dragging the wet material of your shirt with them. He pulled the soggy shirt up and only separated from your lips to remove it from your body. Tossing it away and pressing his lips back to your own. You let your fingers wander over neck and shoulders feeling the tensing muscles. Derek picked up the discarded bottle of Jack beside him. Pulling from the kiss to take a swig of the booze- before pulling your lips back to his own, you felt the Jack slip into your own mouth before you swallowed it. Derek pulled back from you again and you moaned in disappointment. You were getting sick of him pulling away from you! You watched as his eyes roved over the expanse of your half naked body before him- his fingers lifting to caress over our rubs, causing you to suck in a breath. He frowned before pushing his lips against your own more ferociously than before; and soon enough you were lost in his lips and tongue again. The pain simply disappeared. And when you pulled away from him to watch the blackened veins recede into his skin, you knew he’ deliberately taken your pain. Raising a hand to stroke over his stubble covered cheek- you kissed him gently, before letting him control you once more.

He tipped the bottle over you neck again, you hissing at the sting it brought- until his lips followed the trail. Licking and sucking over any skin that was flavoured with the drink. His lips lingering around your breasts, kissing and suckling at the sensitive ignored area. His hands trailed over your stomach, caressing the skin and tracing down to your hips- where they played with the waistband of your jeans. Fingers moving to unfasten them and tug them over your butt and hips. You stood from his lap and stepped back, catching his eyes and pulling the denim down your legs slowly- his eyes only stared at your partially dressed form. The damp bra still hiding your breasts from him and the dark panties covering your core from his waiting eyes. He leaned forward and tugged on your hand- pulling you back to your spot on his lap. You kissed him solidly, letting your tongue trace over his lips before letting your lips explore. They kissed over his rough cheeks, and down his neck- gently nipping at the stubble covered skin, he groaned loudly- letting his hands grip your hips and pull you down onto his own.

Once you were situated in his lap and still devouring his neck- he moved your hips back and forth- creating a friction that was almost maddening. It was driving you to distraction, and you almost lost focus on kissing as much of his skin as you could. You weren’t sure what it was- but you couldn’t get enough of him, and you needed more. You ground your hips against his and could feel that pooling sensation- though it was more noticeable now, that and there was a stirring within Derek’s pants that had you grinning into the open mouthed kisses you were leaving down his chest, careful to avoid the injuries that were still trying to heal. You let you fingers feel over those delicious abs, before dipping lower; rubbing over the bulge in his jeans, rubbing back and forth until you were desperate for more, moving your shaky fingers down to the button and zipper. Popping one and tugging the other. Derek got the message and lifted his hips obediently and shuffled out of his boxers. You moved your gaze to look at him, his size was impressive and made your mouth water and core clench. He lifted your chin with the forefinger of one hand, as his other made a home rubbing you through your panties. A pathetic moan- not even stifled, echoed through the silent room; his calloused fingertips were rubbing the dark lace onto your most sensitive area, and you were revelling in the feeling of it. The way it sent shocks through your body, the way it thrilled you and left you needing more and more. You were chasing that soul shattering feeling, and you were well on our way to catching it- especially if Derek kept his fingers moving at that pace and in that certain pattern.

You hadn’t realised, but moans and groans were spilling from your lips almost in a chant. You were praising Derek’s skilful fingers and he chuckled in response, letting his other hand unclasp your bra and let it fall to rest against your stomach- the straps caught on your elbows, as your hands desperately clutched at Derek’s waist for something to keep you grounded as you floated higher and higher into the pleasure he was offering you. His lips descended onto your exposed chest, teeth and lips nipping at the taut bud. All it took was one hard bite to your nipple and you were coming apart in his arms. Your breath halting, your shoulders tensing and your knees shaking. His fingers didn’t let up though- they guided you through the haze of pleasure and only left you when you were breathing out slowly into the crook of his neck. You let your forehead rest against his shoulder as your tried to calm yourself down, once you felt your breathing return to a semi-normal pace; you let your eyes trail to where his erection was straining and leaking happily- if it were possible, he looked like he was even more erect and ready for you than before. You watched as he let his hand slip from between your legs and you gasped at how wet it was, he just chuckled before slicking his hand down himself and moving your hips to just above him. They rested poised, ready- yearning to plunge downwards and onto him- but he held you steady, teasing you. Before deciding; enough was enough and letting your hips drop.

He raised his own the moment you met, and a sigh slipped from his manly mouth as he was welcomed into your warmth. He held you still for a moment; as if he knew you were still too sensitive and needed some time to adjust. And adjust you did, soon you were desperate to grind yourself against him. Or thrust yourself one him and chase that pleasure again. Sure you were being reedy, but it was almost a necessity! Derek held your hips steady- still buried within you, but not moving. He hissed a breath through his teeth- then let his grip on your hips loosen, you let yourself free. Grinding against him- the skin above where you were joined rubbing at the sensitive nub, you let out a guttural moan; which made even Derek blush by the looks of his pink cheeks. He gripped your hips tighter and guided them into a rhythm. You could feel him rubbing against you in all the right ways, reaching parts of you- you didn’t think was possible, merely a myth. But Derek Hale proved you wring and reached that elusive spot within you. Your rhythm continued, gaining speed and strength. Until you could feel yourself on the cusp of oblivion, and Derek gave a hard thrust within; giving you that final nudge. You cried out- probably an unrecognisable sound or even made up language you weren’t sure. You just knew the way you were feeling in that moment nothing mattered. You could feel the pulsing between your legs, though if it was you. Or Derek. Or you both combined, you weren’t sure and you sure as hell didn’t care- your body was shaking and covered in a light sweat. But nothing mattered apart from Derek still being buried deep within you as you both experienced euphoria. Once you were both calmed from your activities, you rest your head against his shoulder and lifted your hips lazily from his. The slightly uncomfortable feeling of being empty, brought you back to reality. And your senses- and it seemed like Derek’s had also returned. As his mood changed from sated to grumpy in no time. He was soon shoving you off his lap, and onto the seat beside him- and shoving a discarded shirt into your chest.

His glare forced you to tug the shirt over your head, and once it was situated; covering the necessities and Derek had tucked himself away. You noticed that Scott was stood sheepishly by the entrance- rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly and blushing a bright red. You buried your face in your hands embarrassed, because Scott could tell what had not long since transpired within the abandoned train car.

#repost #derek hale smut #derek x y/n #derek smut #teen wolf smut

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dreamerstreamer · 4 years ago

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Ocean Blue

Pairing: GeorgeNotFound / George x mermaid!gn!reader

Summary: [Mermaid!AU] George loves the ocean and spending his summers at his grandfather’s seaside home. That is until one day, he meets you, and he finds himself falling in love all over again.

Warnings: one scene with a tw// depiction of drowning

Word Count: 11.6k

A/N: i could not get this idea out of my head and just knew that i had to write it. it was somewhat inspired by the little mermaid, but a lot of it also came from my own imagination. i took a bit of a different approach while writing it, but i hope you all like it! <3

George loved the ocean.

He loved the spray of sea salt on his face as he sat on the pier. He loved the crashing of the waves as the rolled up along the shore. He loved the cry of seagulls as they soared overhead, their ivory white wings dotting the sky like tiny clouds.

There wasn’t anywhere else on the planet where the world looked so vibrant, so vivid and bright. Maybe he was biased, as a colourblind man whose favourite colour was blue, but he didn’t care. He loved the ocean, and he loved being surrounded by the great, deep blue.

Every year, he couldn’t wait for summer to roll around so that he could travel down to his grandfather’s house by the seaside. Without fail, George would come running up the steps into his grandfather’s warm, familiar arms as spring turned to summer and the sun’s rays beat down on his back. He didn’t mind that he couldn’t swim—he was more than happy to simply sit on the beach and rock along in his grandfather’s boats, pulled along by the sea’s gentle waves.

Truly, George was positive that there was nothing more perfect than the summers he spent at his grandfather’s.

The seashore town was quaint and friendly, a stark contrast to the bustling city life he typically led. His friends Clay and Sapnap lived nearby too, so he never got lonely, even if he was so far away from home. He would go fishing and boating by his grandfather’s side, a smile plastered to his face as the wind nipped at his skin. Together, the two of them ate every meal on the back porch, gazing out at the vast sea as they quietly ate.

Yet, every time he looked out at the ocean, something in his grandfather’s eyes shifted. Something sorrowful and heavy swam in his eyes as he watched the tide rise and fall along the shore, his mouth set into the smallest of frowns. George remembered asking him about it, once.

“Grandpa, do you love the ocean?”

He blinked, turning to face his grandson with a wide smile. “Of course, I do.” He patted the wall behind him. “Why, I even put my home beside it!”

George furrowed his brows. “Then why do you always seem so sad when you look at it?”

His grandfather paused, his smile slowly waning before disappearing entirely. George blinked, looking at him expectantly for a few moments before he finally sighed. “Love,” he said, “is a dangerous thing, George.”

His gaze turned to the ocean, something familiar and empty flashing in it. “It’s so, so beautiful, but it can also break your heart.”

George didn’t ask him what he meant by that—it didn’t seem right—but he trusted his grandfather. He would have no reason to lie to him, even if he still looked so sad. No matter, every summer, George returned to his grandfather’s home by the seashore, eagerly awaiting the moment he would lay eyes on the sea once more.

George loved the ocean.

But he never knew just how much.

“Clay, you’re rowing too fast.”

Clay scowled, shooting Sapnap a sour look. “You’re the one who’s rowing too slow!”

Sapnap waved an arm over the water on his side on the boat. “Are you seeing how hard the boat is turning in my direction?” He narrowed his eyes as he gritted out, “That’s because you’re speeding up.”

Clay’s glower only intensified. “No, it’s because you’re slowing down, oh my go—”

George let out a long, drawn-out groan, rubbing at his temples. “What are you guys—toddlers? I’ve seen elementary school kids resolve arguments with more rationale than you two.”

Clay sighed, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration as he curled his fingers tighter around the paddle handle. “Can you blame me? Sapnap’s dumb as a rock.”

“Clay, I’m going to kill yo—”

“Next time,” George said loudly, quickly shutting Sapnap up, “we’re taking the rowboat instead of the canoe. I cannot deal with you two.”

Sapnap leaned back, wriggling his eyebrows at George. “Don’t act like you don’t spend the rest of the year wishing you were hanging out with us.”

George scoffed. “I’m not—don’t flatter yourselves.”

“Well,” Clay said, his lips quirking into a teasing yet honest smile, “I wish you didn’t only show up in the summertime. The rest of the year is such a drag without you.”

There was a slight pause, then Sapnap nodded, tucking a hand under his chin. “For once, I agree with Clay. You really should come down more often.”

George hummed, shrugging his shoulders. “Maybe you guys should come visit me in the city, instead. It might be a nice change of scenery.”

“Maybe,” Clay mused. He gestured to the space around him. “But you’d be missing out on all this.”

George blinked, then turned slightly, his gaze sweeping across his surroundings. Greg, fluffy clouds streaked across the cerulean sky, and a seagull cried out overhead. The sea stretched across the horizon as far as the eye could see, and were it not for the compass sitting in Sapnap’s satchel, he would be certain they were lost.

As the rolling waves rocked the boat from side to side, George couldn’t help but smile, resting his arm against the boat’s ledge. “Yeah,” he muttered, a fond look flitting through his eyes. “You’re right.”

Sapnap opened his mouth, surely to make a snarky remark, when a gust of wind suddenly whipped his hair into his eyes. Clay let out a cackle at the sight, but was cut off when another strong breeze rushed past him. George rubbed at his bare arms, a shiver running down his spine.

Suddenly, he grew very still.

It had been warm just a few minutes ago.

Just then, something cold and wet fell onto his arm. George tilted his head back, squinting up at the sky. The grey clouds from earlier had grown dark and thick, and it had begun to rain. If there was one thing he had learned over the summer, it was how to recognize an incoming storm.

As the rain started to fall quicker and quicker, George turned to his friends, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Guys,” he said, “we need to head back.”

It was at that moment that a burst of crackling thunder rolled across the sky. George gritted his teeth, feeling his shirt start to soak through. “Now.”

Neither of them asked for him to elaborate, far too distracted by the crashing waves that grew tougher and rockier with each passing second. “Clay,” Sapnap said, reaching for his paddle with one hand and pushing his wet hair back with the other, “start rowing.”

Clay didn’t look up from where he was focused on paddling, his gaze set into a serious look as water ran down his cheek. “Already on it, slowpoke.”

Ignoring the urge to snap back at him, Sapnap turned to George, worry soaking into his words. “Life jacket. On. Hurry.”

George nodded, reaching out from under the seat to grab the familiar orange pouch. “Yeah, yeah, I’m—”

A rough wave suddenly crashed into the side of the boat, and George found himself shooting forward, the slippery plastic flying out of his grip and out into the choppy waves. He gasped, lunging for the boat’s ledge, desperately reaching, only to come face to face with the ocean, the life jacket having floated too far for him to reach, now.

The once kind and quiet sea now stared back at him unforgivingly, its murky depths threatening to suck him in and never let him go. He swallowed. He knew without a doubt that he’d never make it out if he fell in without a life jacket—regardless of whether or not he could swim.

“It’s fine!” Clay called out over the howling wind, his golden locks flipping into his face. “We still have three more. Here, let me just...”

He dropped the paddle onto the canoe floor with a clatter, slipping his arm under the bench. Panic suddenly shot through George’s system, and a horrible, sinking feeling settled into the pit of his stomach.

Something awful was about to happen—he just knew it.

The moment the notion registered in his gut, he saw it. Well, he felt it more than saw it. The wave crashing into the boat rocked him so hard that in one moment, he was sitting with his back against the boat ledge, his hand gripping the painted wood. In the next, he was tumbling out of the boat, his lips parted in a silent scream.

I’m too close to the edge, was his only thought.

In an instant, Clay was sitting upright again, his viridian eyes frozen wide with nothing but sheer fear, and the wooden ledge suddenly felt like it was leagues away from him. George felt the cold waves lap at his sopping shirt, and Sapnap let out a bloodcurdling scream.

“George!”

For a split second, time seemed to slow. George could clearly make out the sight of Clay’s wide eyes and Sapnap’s open mouth, could see the waves lapping at his back with a clarity he didn’t know was even possible.

Then he went under with a splash.

The moment his head was submerged, he gasped, feeling his lungs fill with seawater, the salt burning his throat. He felt the raging current wrap around his middle like a noose and yank him back, further and further from the boat. Desperation slammed into him like a truck, and he futilely kicked his legs, his hand reaching for the unforgiving surface.

No! Please!

Clay let out a desperate scream, lunging across to the other side of the boat, but it was already too late. George was already so far from them, sinking faster than an anchor. He could feel his eyes sting—whether it was from the seawater or tears, he didn’t know, and he didn’t think he cared. All he wanted was to get out, but he could already feel his muscles start to grow tired.

I don’t want to die. Not like this.

He thrashed at the waves that only seemed to pull him further and further under. With each second that ticked by and each desperate kick of his arms, he felt fatigue sink its claws in deeper. The blue he had once loved so dearly now held him hostage, like a mouse in a cage. No matter how hard he grasped at the waves, they would not allow him to move upward. It was almost like he was chained to the bottom of the ocean, destined only to fall lower and lower. His chest felt like it was burning, despite being surrounded by a world of water.

This wasn’t happening—this couldn’t be happening. What would his grandfather think? His mother? His father?

His arms fell limp at his side, his legs finally growing still as the freezing water dug into his skin.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

He was vaguely aware of Sapnap’s muffled shouts and could barely make out the shape of Clay’s arms reaching for him, but they all felt so distant, now—their faces looking like nothing more than distorted silhouettes. He could have even sworn he felt something wrap around his wrist, but by then, he was far too gone.

I’m tired, he thought, his eyelids falling shut.

And the cold, murky depths dragged him into darkness.

George awoke to something warm and wet brushing over his cheek.

Slowly, he shifted, inhaling deeply only to feel an incessant itch digging into the back of his throat. Almost immediately, he began to cough, the warmth suddenly leaving his cheek. Above him, a voice gasped.

“You’re alive!”

George froze at that. I am?

He heard something shift beside him. “Oh, thank goodness. I thought that I was almost too late. That would have been really bad.”

His fingers twitched at his sides, and he curled them downward only to pause when his palm met sand. I’m... on the beach?

The last thing he remembered was being pulled under the water, waves cresting over his head and saltwater binding around him like a trap. He could recall the icy chill that ran down his spine like an eel as he kicked fervently, trying to reach the surface only to be tugged deeper and deeper downward.

Just how in the world was he even alive?

With a soft groan, George blinked, raising an arm to shield his eyes from the glaring sun. The sky was clear now, he noticed as the cloudiness of his vision quickly lifted. Carefully pushing forward, he sat upright, wincing at the slight ache in his muscles. How long has it been since, well... everything? He didn’t know.

“How are you feeling?”

He jumped at the sound of a new, unfamiliar voice coming directly beside him. Gulping, his turned, his gaze landing on you. The moment your eyes met, he felt his breath hitch in his throat.

You were the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

He felt his heart skip a beat in his chest, rattling against his rib cage as his eyes traced over your face. Your eyes almost seemed to glow in the sunlight, dappled with a shimmer he had never seen before. He took in the sight of your dewy skin, dripping with saltwater, and your torso, shimmering in the sunlight.

Your bare torso.

His cheeks flushed bright pink as he swallowed, trying to calm down his racing heart. Were you naked? Where in the world were your clothes? He could feel the wheels in his head turning at breakneck speed, with only one thing in mind. He gulped.

Don’t look down, don’t look down, don’t look down—

He glanced down.

But instead of, well, you know, what he found was a tail. A fish tail.

His jaw dropped, the dots finally connecting in his head. There was no way—

“A mermaid?” he blurted.

You furrowed your brows at him. “Mer-maid?” you repeated, slowly forming the unfamiliar words with your lips. You pointed to yourself. “Are you talking about me?”

George nodded, too dumbfounded to speak.

You blinked at him, tilting your head. “My name isn’t mermaid—it’s [Y/N].” You squinted at him for a moment, then your eyes lit up, your tail flapping against the sand. “Could you possibly be referring to my people? Those of us blessed by the ocean with tails?”

His gaze darted down to your tail, following its movement before returning to your face, nodding once more.

You hummed, your gaze thoughtful as you tapped at your chin. “Well, we call each other friends. And family.” You grinned at him, and something warm burst in his chest. “But I guess you could call us seafolk. We belong to the sea, after all. She is our caretaker. Our mother, if you will.”

He could only gape at you in stunned silence. “I-I don’t understand,” he finally sputtered after a long moment. “How did I get here? Did you—?”

You shyly tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear, your cheeks growing hot as you lowered your gaze to the damp sand. “Ah, I, um—yes.” Your tail curled a little closer toward you. “I saw you fall in and dragged you out to shore.”

He blinked at you, his lips parted in awe. “You saved my life,” he whispered, suddenly feeling breathless.

You shot your head up, your face growing even warmer. Waving your hands in front of you, you stammered, “W-Well, I wouldn’t call it that—a”

He shook his head, and you fell silent, only able to watch in wonder as he grinned at you. “No, no. You did. You saved me. I would have drowned if you didn’t.”

You blinked at him once, then a sheepish smile slowly spread across your lips. “Oh, um.”

He felt something in his chest melt a little at how soft your voice was. “Thank you, [Y/N],” he murmured, hoping you could hear his sincerity.

For a moment, you only stared at one another, your eyes scanning each other’s faces. He couldn’t think of a better word to describe you than stunning. Suddenly, you raised your hand, slowly reaching up toward his cheek. George swallowed, feeling his heart flip. Your fingers were only an inch away from his skin when a distant voice called out from behind him.

“Oh my god, Clay. I think I see him.”

George froze, and your arm darted back to your side, your shoulders growing tense as your gaze darted behind him. Turning his head, he glanced over his shoulder, his eyes only widening at the sight of a small speck atop the cliff a few yards away. He was embarrassed to admit that he had been so entranced by you that he had almost forgotten about his friends.

“Are you for real? You’re crazy, let me see—”

A second silhouette joined the first, and in a flash, you were shuffling down the beach, the tide lapping at your tail as your hands pushed against the dark sand. “I have to go,” you mumbled in a hurry, your words coming out frenzied. “They can’t see me.”

Your eyes darted back to his for a split second, and you bit your lip, a pang of guilt shooting across your face. “You weren’t even supposed to see me.”

He leaned forward, the words flying from his mouth before he could stop them. “Wait, um, please!” He hesitated for a second—just one—then he opened his mouth once more. “Will I ever see you, again?”

You paused, your body fully submerged under the water now. Something like fear and curiosity swam in your eyes. “I, um, I don’t even know your na—”

“George,” he said quickly, his gaze trained on yours. “My name is George.”

Your eyes grew wide, and he thought you were going to say something when there came another shout—closer, this time.

“It’s him! It’s really him! Sapnap, go tell gramps!”

Your lips curled into a small smile, sad and longing. “Goodbye, George. I’m glad you’re alive.”

He opened his mouth, desperate to say something to you—anything. But you were gone before he could even make a sound, disappearing into the waves with a splash. He stared at the spot where you had vanished into ocean, entranced by the rippling water.

That was real, right? He hadn’t just had some beautiful daydream, had he?

All of a sudden, something barrelled into his shoulder, and he yelped as he was knocked onto the sand. Coughing, he blinked wildly up at the sight of Clay’s faces hovering over him. His eyes were glossy as they raked over his face, a giddy smile tugging at his lips.

“George?” he breathed, half-laughing as he spoke. “Oh my god, you’re alive.” Leaning back, he grabbed George’s hand and pulled him upright, his grip nearly crushing his hand with how tight he was squeezing. “How? How did you make it? We thought you were a goner, especially with those waves.” His chest shook as he took in a trembling breath, sighing with aching relief. “It must have been a miracle.”

George nodded, but he was only half paying attention. His head was still spinning with dizzying thoughts of your hand brushing against his cheek and the sight of your dazzling smile. He could have sworn he could hear your voice in the crashing waves and the sweet sea breeze.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “A miracle.”

George grunted as he tugged back at the paddles once more, feeling the boat push further back beneath his feet. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead, and he could feel his shoulders start to ache, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

There was no way he was going home without seeing you, again.

It had been a little over a week since he had been rescued from the seashore, tumbling back into his grandfather’s shaky arms with a sob. He knew they tried to hide it, but he was pretty sure Sapnap and Clay both cried that day after apologizing profusely to his grandfather. Just that once, he kept quiet, but only that one time.

He remembered his grandfather’s trembling hands as he gripped his shoulders, his old, weary eyes searching his face. “Just... how did you come back?”

At the time, George had swallowed, lowering his gaze to the ground. He had an answer—a beautiful, mesmerizing one at that. But as wondrous as it was, it was also one that no one would ever believe.

“I must have been swept back to the shore, or something,” he had said instead, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. “I guess I just l got lucky.”

His grandfather had stared at him for a long moment, and his eyes had glinted almost knowingly, but he had only smiled and hugged him a little tighter. “Lucky, indeed.”

For the next few days, George wasn’t allowed out of his grandfather’s sight. While he understood his grandfather’s fears, he quickly grew sick of it. It wasn’t his fault that there was a freak storm, and his grandfather knew it. Storms that appeared that quickly were rare, and George swore up and down that he wouldn’t go out to sea on a bad day ever again. It took hours of begging, but his grandfather finally agreed with a clap to his back and a stern look that George didn’t even have to ask about to know what it meant.

Be careful.

And of course, George wasn’t about to be anything less than careful, if not also the tiniest bit reckless.

After all, he wouldn’t exactly call rowing out to the middle of the sea in search of a mermai—er, seaperson—the most careful thing in the world.

Well, it doesn’t matter much now, does it? he thought, feeling his muscles strain beneath his arm as he pulled back. Letting out another small groan, he lowered his arms and set the paddles down in their holders, rolling his neck with a determined huff. I have to see them, again. I just have to.

He couldn’t explain it, really. On one hand, he thought it just had to be the mystical factor that drew him back in—what other person could say they had met someone like you? But on the other, he knew it was more than just what you were, but also who you were.

You were kind, and selfless, and humble, and curious. You had saved him from what otherwise would have been most certain death, and you did it all while knowing he couldn’t offer you anything in return. He could still see your bashful smile and your cheeks stretched in glee in his head as clear as day, and he didn’t think he would ever be able to forget the way you made his heart flip.

There was no doubt about it—he was smitten.

Just then, he was pulled out of his thoughts by a familiar voice.

“George?”

He froze, his fingers going slack against the paddle handles as he turned.

George would recognize your voice even if it came from a mile away.

Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, he turned, his chest suddenly feeling a million times tighter than it had a few moments ago. You tilted your head at him from where you were treading in the water.

“[Y/N],” he breathed, your name rolling off his tongue like a secret plea.

He could barely make out the silhouette of your tail beneath the gentle waves, the scales reflecting shards of scattered light across the surface. You swam a bit closer, your eyebrows knitting together as a bright, curious look swirled in your gaze. “You... you came back?”

He nodded without even an inkling of hesitation. “Of course.” He paused, something warm and prickly climbing up in his chest, then hastily added, “I had to.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Why?”

He sucked in a deep breath as he set down the paddles, facing you head-on. He could have said anything, really—it wasn’t like you’d know if he was lying. But there was something about the way you looked at him, something about the earnestness of your tone that made him want to tell you the truth.

“I wanted to see you, again,” he said honestly.

You swam even closer, so close that you were touching the boat, now. “Aren’t you afraid of me?” you whispered, your voice coming out almost as if it were a simple breeze on the wind.

His eyes never left yours. “No.”

Your eyes flashed, your cheeks burning ever so slightly. Something like hope danced in his veins, and he found himself speaking once more.

“And—” He gulped. “And what about you? Aren’t you afraid of me?”

You stared at him for a moment longer. Then, your lips curled into a brilliant grin, and he suddenly felt as though you had sucked the air from his lungs with a single look.

“No.”

It was only a matter of time before George found himself drawn to you like the planets to the sun, returning day after day to the ocean just to see you, again. The two of you would meet at your favourite rock, one that just barely stuck out of the water enough for you to sit on and watch the clouds. Clay and Sapnap would whine about it, of course, claiming that he was abandoning them, but he always took the time to hang out with them—he made sure of that.

With each passing day he spent chatting with you atop the rocking waves, the more and more he captivated he became by you. You told him of your love of seeing the sunset above the water, and how much you loved to hear the passing birds sing. He shared with you his passion for games and explained to you what a computer was.

(“It’s like a... metal box?” he had said, gesturing vaguely. “But it lights up and has moving pictures.”

He was almost positive he was already half-in love with the way your eyes swam with curiosity. “I’ve never heard of anything like that! Could I try using one? I would love to bring one home.”

“That, um, won’t exactly work.”)

Not a single day went by where George wasn’t drowning in thoughts of you, always thinking of new things to tell you and ask you about and share with you and—really, he felt like he could talk to you for years, if he wanted to, and he didn’t think he would particularly mind it if that ended up being the case. Despite how much time he with you, George never brought anything home with him. That was, until today.

“I got you a present!”

He blinked at you, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. “You did?”

You nodded eagerly, your eyes glimmering with stars. “Yeah!” Slowly, you lifted your arms up from behind your back, raising your palms up until they rested on the edge of the boat. “Here.”

A quiet gasp escaped his thang as he stared down at your hands with a wondrous look, fascination bubbling up between his lungs. “A conch shell?” he murmured.

Reaching over, you took one of his hands in yours. He felt a spark run up his arm at your touch, your fingers gently wrapping around his wrist. Despite how cold the ocean was, your hand was warm against his skin. With a soft hum, you flipped his hand over and slid the shell into his palm before letting go. He found himself missing your touch in an instant, his fingers itching to search for yours once more.

“I picked it out myself,” you said proudly, a triumphant smile gracing your lips. “It’s the prettiest one from my collection.” Your eyes darted to his face, and you bit the inside of your cheek, your grin faltering slightly. “Do you—do you like it?”

He watched as you lowered your gaze to the gentle, lapping waves and the sunlight danced on your tail. Your thumb nervously tapped against the edge of the boat, and he felt something warm and wet slink down and around his rib cage. Smiling, he curled his fingers around the shell, clutching it close to his chest.

“I love it. Really.”

The brightness of your smile was absolutely blinding, but he didn’t think he would mind losing the rest of his sight to you.

That day, George‘s grandfather asked him about the conch shell he had placed on his bedroom windowsill, eyeing it with a coy gleam in his eye. “Who gave that to you?”

George paused at the question, mulling it over for a moment before an image of your laughing face shot through his mind. His lips quirked into a warm smile.

“Someone special.”

A few days later, George found him rowing back out to your rock once more, but this time, his heart was hammering away in his chest. With each row of the paddle, the blood rushing through his ears grew louder. He could only hope you would like it, and only pray that you felt the same way.

“George! You’re back!”

He startled, glancing over his shoulder to see you hauling yourself up onto the rock. The sun framed your head in a glowing halo as you pushed your wet hair away from your face, smiling welcomingly. Chuckling, he ignored the nerves sparking up his backside at the sight.

“Of course I am,” he said, sending you a cheeky look. He set down his paddles, smiling. “Did you miss me?”

Your smile was earnest as you said, “Always.”

He coughed, lifting a fist to cover his mouth and the burning heat shooting you his neck. “T-Thanks,” he managed to choke out with a grateful smile. He glanced down at his fingers, trying to pretend they were shaking as he opened his mouth, again. “Um, [Y/N]?”

Your tail curled a little tighter into itself, and you smiled at him. “Yes?”

His toes curled in his shoes as he willed himself to keep his eyes on yours. “Remember, uh, how you gave me that conch a little while back?”

You nodded, tilting your head at him. “Well,” he continued, flashing you a shaky grin as he under the boat seat, “I also got you something.”

In an instant, you were leaning forward eagerly, your eyes glimmering with curiosity. “You did?” You clasped your hands together, practically shaking with excitement. “Oh, what is it, what is it?”

George swallowed, feeling the gnawing feeling in his gut creep up to squeeze his heart. He sucked in a quiet breath before pushing it down once more, finally lifting up his arm to reveal his gift.

It was a bouquet.

George pretended his face wasn’t on fire as your jaw dropped, half-looking like you were about to throw yourself into the boat. Surely you knew just what he meant by giving you flowers, right...?

“Oh my gosh, George,” you whispered, shuffling a little closer toward him. Your eyes were the size of saucers as you peered over the edge and at the bouquet in his hands, and he nearly melted at the sight. The awestruck look on your face was worth all of his nerves and more.

Suddenly, you raised your head, your eyes locking onto his. “What are they?”

He froze. You... don’t know what flowers are? How can you possibly not know what flowers ar—?

His train of thought came to a screeching halt, and he resisted the urge to slam his forehead straight into his paddle. Right. You lived underwater.

How foolish of him to think you would know.

Trying not to let his shoulders slump too much, his offered you a grin. “They’re called flowers,” he explained. “There are different kinds of flowers, but these ones are called daisies.” He reached his arm out over the ledge to where you sat, angling the bottom of the bouquet toward you. “Here. You hold them here—around the stems.”

You slowly wrapped your fingers around the delicate ends, careful not to crush them under your grip. Once you were holding the bouquet securely, George sat back, watching with a fond look as you turned it over in your hands.

“Flow-ers,” you sounded out slowly. “Flowers. And day... zees?” You wrinkled your nose, shooting George a questioning look. When he nodded, your face brightened. “Daisies! Daisies. Flowers and daisies.”

George could only smile as you examined the flowers this way and that. The disappointment he felt a few minutes ago had completely vanished, now—he was far more enraptured by your fascinated expression and the small sounds of awe you were making.

“They’re so pretty!” you squealed, your tail happily flopping against the rock. Lifting the centers up to your nose, you inhaled, exhaling with a sweet sigh. “And they smell so nice.”

You traced a finger over the flower edge, humming to yourself with a thoughtful look. “We don’t have these below the sea. The closest thing we have is coral, but they’re not nearly as soft as this.”

He leaned his arm on the wooden edge, murmuring, “Yeah, petals are really soft, aren’t they?”

Your gaze flitted to his and you raised an eyebrow at him. “Petals?” you parroted.

He blinked, lifting his head as recognition flickered through his mind. “Oh,” he said, reaching over to gesture to the soft, white parts, “I’m talking about these here.”

You brushed your fingers over the daisy petals, something tender settling across your features. “They’re so... delicate,” you whispered. “They’re not like anything that grows on the ocean floor.”

George stared at you as you leaned back against the wet slab of stone, wistfully gazing out at the horizon. A cool gust of air ruffled your hair, and a whirlwind of thoughts rushed through his head.

I want to to touch you. I want to hold you. I want to understand you. I want to know you. I...

Just like that, the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“I want to see your world.”

You turned to face him, blinked wildly. “Huh?”

He jumped, his eyes going wide. Oh, he said that out loud. Oh, no. His fingers tightened into a clenched fist at his side, and he felt his nails dig into the palm of his hand. As you cocked your head, inching down the rock toward him, he felt a tide of acceptance wash over him.

Well, there was no going back now, was there?

“I want to see the world you live in,” he admitted. “I want to see what the sun looks like from the bottom of the ocean. I want to see the rest of your conch shell collection, but down where you keep them all. I want to meet your friends, your family.”

His chest suddenly felt tight, something warm and sweet coiling around his heart. “I want to know what seafolk things make you happy.”

Your lips curled into a smile, but it was sad. “But you can’t,” you said softly.

He sighed, mirroring your expression. “But I can’t.”

A melancholic silence fell over the two of you, and you dipped your head, looking down at the creamy white petals in your hands. For a few moments, all he could hear was the sound of the waves and your soft breathing. All of a sudden, your raised your chin, your fingers squeezing a fraction tighter around the daisy stems.

“I... I want to see your world, too,” you said ardently, making him blink at you in surprise. “I want to walk down a street, and see a dog. Maybe even a cat! I want to meet your friends and your family.”

You smiled again, but this time, it wasn’t nearly as sad. “I want to know what human things make you happy.”

He couldn’t help but return your smile, and another quiet fell over the two of you, but this one was more comfortable—more warm. As you looked at each other, your eyes boring into one another as the sea breeze sang in your ears, George felt something soft and fuzzy wrap around his heart, making his head spin with dizzying thoughts of you.

For once, the two of you weren’t a seaperson and human, destined to be kept apart no matter what.

For once, and even if only for a little while, you were just two hearts connected by the sea.

“Let me teach you how to swim.”

George shot you a bewildered look, his eyebrows knitting together. “What? No.”

You pouted at him, your tail slapping eagerly against the rock. “Please?” you whined. You were practically draping yourself over the boat edge now, and he tried to ignore the way his heart flipped in his chest. “It’ll be so much fun!”

He grimaced, pressing his lips into a thin line. “You don’t have legs like I do,” he reasoned, “and you’ve been swimming all your life. I’m the complete opposite. The learning curve is going to be ridiculously steep.”

Your eyes were full of determination as you lifted your head to meet his gaze, not backing down. “That doesn’t mean you can’t do it and that I can’t teach it! It’ll be super helpful, too!” You squinted at him. “Don’t even try to deny it.”

He swallowed at your closeness, focusing all his energy into keeping the heat from shooting up onto his cheeks. “Well... I mean...”

You inched even closer to him as you begged, your gaze shimmering like the ocean surface. “Please, George? Pretty please?”

He stared down at you for a moment longer, screwing his eyes shut. He was... scared, that was for sure. He may love the sea, but he also knew just how ruthless and unkind it could be. But here you were, looking at him with those pretty, pleading eyes, and he trusted you—he did.

Sucking in a deep breath, he raised his arms in surrender, offering you a sheepish smile. “Okay, okay, you win.”

You dropped back into the water a gleeful look, clapping your hands together in delight. You opened your mouth to speak, but he quickly added on, “But start off slow, okay? I’m nervous.”

You nodded, your gaze growing stern despite your grin. “I will, I swear.”

Feeling his chest unwind the slightest bit at your firmness, his arms trailed down to the hem of his shirt. Grabbing on, he quickly pulled the fabric up and around his head, dropping it onto the damp bench beside him. Turning back to you, he tilted his head, glancing down at the waves anxiously. “Where do we start?”

Your lips were parted, and for a moment you were simply silent, staring at his bare chest. Then, you quickly whipped your head up, blinking as your cheeks grew warm. “Huh? R-Right, um, here!” You shoved your arms out before him, your fingers splayed out as you averted your gaze from his. “Take my hands.”

Lips twitching with amusement, George crouched slightly as he slipped his hands between yours. “Okay,” you said quietly, “now you have to jump in.”

George froze, anxiety pumping through his veins. “Jump... in?” He inhaled a weary breath, his arms shaking. “I...”

You slotted your fingers between his, your expression serious yet earnest. “Yes,” you murmured, just for him to hear. Your eyes bore into his with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine, and he felt his heart skip a beat, but not out of fear. “I’ll be right here, though. I won’t let go. I promise.”

For a few seconds, he simply breathed, staring down at the calm water lying just inches below him. With a shaky breath, he pushed himself to his feet, one hand lifting up to grab his nose and the other still wrapped in yours. Taking one last peek at your reassuring smile, he screwed his eyes shut.

Then he jumped.

The water came rushing up around him with a splash, cold and invigorating. His grip tightened around his nose as his head went under, and he pursed his lips tighter. The last time he had been in the water taught him to hold his breath underwater, and to hold it well. He felt your tail brush against his legs, and in an instant, your arms were wrapped around his, hoisting up him upward. The moment his face broke the surface, he gasped, his hand dropping to his side as you tread water to keep him afloat.

“Hey, hey,” you said quickly, your tone reassuring and smooth as you brushed the wet hair away from his face, “I’m here. I’ve got you.” Your eyebrows furrowed in concern as you scanned his face, chewing on your lip. “Are you okay?”

He blinked, his chest heaving with a mixture of adrenaline and excitement. Glancing down, he watched as the water parted around your tail as it pushed back and forth, and he quickly found his legs mimicking the motion. A surprised smile tugged at his lips as he felt the bulk ones of his body lift a little. He didn’t realize the water could feel so... refreshing.

“Actually,” he said, turning back to look at you again, “I’m—I’m doing a lot better than I thought.”

An ivory white grin split your lips, and your hold around him tightened the tiniest bit. “That’s amazing. You’re amazing, George.”

His breath hitched in his throat, and he felt warmth shoot across his chest. That was totally just because you were holding him, right?

His heart stumbled.

Oh god—you were holding him.

Your arm was pressed against his and he could smell the salt in your hair and you were so warm and—

George swallowed thickly and offered you a lopsided grin. “Thanks.”

You returned his expression and waded a little further out into the watery depths, your grip around him as secure as ever. “Well,” you began, “now that you’re actually in the water, how about we start with just floating? Everyone should learn how to float.”

When he nodded, you hummed with a determined look. “Just lean back until you’re facing straight up to start...” you instructed, pushing gently on his shoulder.

George sucked in a breath and let himself shift farther and farther into his back. Little by little, he felt his legs float up until his toes stuck out of the water while the back of his head remained submerged. “...and then,” you continued, still holding onto his head, “spread your arms and legs like a starfish.”

A wave of panic shot through him as his eyes met yours. Were you going to let go? Was he going to—?

As if you had read his mind, you smiled and shook your head. “Don’t worry about sinking—I’ll be here to make sure nothing happens to you.”

A loose breath escaped him as the tide of panic pulled back, but it still lapped at the edge of his mind. Pursing his lips, he shut his eyes and slowly unpeeled his arms from his side, stretching them out alongside his legs. He held his breath, his heart feeling more like a trembling leaf than anything as he waited for something horrible to happen...

...and then nothing.

Peeking an eye open, he grinned, turns his head to face you with an excited shout, “I-I think I’m doing it!”

From his sideways view of you, you cheered, lifting your free arm in victory. “You are, you really are!”

All of a sudden, you suddenly flipped onto your back, stretching your own arms out until the two of you were only connected by your intertwined hands. His heart felt like it was about to take flight as he watched the sun ripple across your smiling face. “See?” you said with a cheeky glint in your gaze. “Now we’re floating together.”

Turning your head back to stare up at the sky, a sigh escaped your rosy lips as they curled up into a wistful smile. “You can’t see the sky so clearly like this under the sea,” you murmured. “It’s so much... brighter up here. And then with the sound of the waves...”

You paused, your eyes fluttering shut as you drank in the sound of the seagulls’ cries and the sea’s gentle lullaby. “Gosh,” you said breathlessly, squeezing his hand in yours. “it’s just perfect, isn’t it?”

George nodded, focused on the feeling of your palm pressed against his and his heart swelling in his chest.

“It is.”

He wasn’t looking at the sky.

To say the least, George was more than surprised when he found himself swimming as though he had been doing it his whole life just a little under a week later. He had heard that even grown people could learn to swim quickly, but he never thought that he would be one of them.

Perhaps it had something to do with the joy he felt whenever you praised him, or perhaps he was just always meant to do this. After all, he loved the sea—it was only a matter of time before he learned, right?

Either way, now that he could swim, he knew exactly what he wanted to do, now.

“You are so going to regret this.”

He grinned at you. “Maybe. But I’ll regret it even more if I never do it.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you sent him an amused look, mischief tugging at your lips. “And to think you couldn’t even hold your head underwater a few days ago.”

He feigned a glower at you, but he could tell by the gleam in your eyes that you weren’t buying it. “Hey! I’m just a fast learner.

You rolled your eyes at him, but the way your grin widened showed that you didn’t mean it. “Sure, sure. You act like I’m not the best swimming teacher you’ve ever had.”

He cocked a brow at you. “You’re the only swimming teacher I’ve ever had.”

You suddenly clapped your hands in front of his face, making him jump. “Anyways,” you began as you pulled your arms back with a smile, clearly trying to divert his attention, “are you ready?”

He nodded, returning your smile as excitement flowed through him. You lifted three fingers in the air and began to count down. “Three, two, one...”

George sucked in a deep breath, his lungs filling to the brim with as much air as he could manage before he squeezed his eyes and ducked his head under the waves. The world suddenly went quiet and muffled around him, the faint sound of bubbles rising filling his ears. After a second, he peeked open a single eye, then two.

He wanted to gasp at the sight.

A world of vibrant blue surrounded him, streaks of cerulean engulfing him entirely from every direction. Below him, he could barely make out the shape of a school of fish dart past, colourful branches of coral poking out from the depths. Just above, the fractured and scattered rays of sunlight swirled across the surface like a light show of its own. And just in front of him, there you were, smiling so prettily with your hands in his.

The saltwater stung his eyes, but he didn’t care. The world you lived in was beautiful—you were beautiful.

Just then, something true and warm struck him to the very core of his being, and his eyes grew wide.

Oh, he loved you, didn’t he?

He didn’t think it was even possible to fall so hard for someone so quickly, but you were special. He hadn’t been able to put a name to the sweet, lovely feeling you had stirred in him before. But looking at you now, with your eyes sparkling with mirth and surrounded by the very thing he loved most, he knew.

Love—oh, he loved you.

If only he knew how to tell you.

His chest wound tighter and tighter like a spring that was about to pop, and he quickly signalled to swim back up to you as he fervently kicked his legs. As he surfaced once more, he gasped for breath, feeling the spring deflate as his eyes burned without mercy. You surfaced a split second after him, your mouth already open as your eyes darted to his.

“That,” George gasped in between breaths, “was amazing.” He pressed a hand to his eyes, feeling the saltwater nip at the back of his eyelids like sandpaper. He winced as he did so, and in a flash, you were swimming in front of him, your hand reaching for his cheek.

“Oh gosh, your eyes,” you murmured, concern flooding your face. “Are you okay?” When your fingers brushed against his skin, he shivered, and you immediately pulled your hand back, clutching it to your chest. He didn’t know how to tell you that that shiver was a good thing.

He shook his head, waving his other hand at you. “No, no, I’m good. Just a little—“ He winced, again. “—ow.”

George caught a glimpse of you pursing your lips before his eyes fluttered shut once more, trying to dull the sting. “I told you this was a bad idea,” you said softly, regret singeing your voice. ”I shouldn’t have let you do it.”

He turned toward the direction of your voice, rubbing the base of his palm into his eyelids. “I said I wanted to see your world,” he said, determination soaking into his words, “and I was right—it’s more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.”

He lowered his arms, his eyes opening once more to see you staring back at him. There was a certain awestruck look on your face that made him smile, a certain glimmer in your eyes that made him want to cry. “I don’t regret it one bit.”

You swam an inch closer to him, tilting your head at him as as you simpered. “Even though your eyes look like they got stung by a jellyfish?”

He nodded. “Even then—wait.” He furrowed his brows at you, his hand shooting up to brush against the rim of his eyes as he gaped. “They look like what?”

You snorted at his hanging jaw, laughter bursting from your lips and bubbling out of your throat. “They’re all red and puffy!” you managed between chuckled. He gawked at you as you flipped around, your tail splashing against the water as you giggled.

George slowly felt a smile stretch across his face as you laughed at him, your scales reflecting like tiny mirrors in the sun as your skin shone with tiny droplets of water. Your world may be beautiful, but it paled so much in comparison to you.

He felt his throat tighten as a single, dark claw scratched at the corner of his mind, dragging across the edge of his skull. You know this can’t last forever, right? it whispered into the crevices of his heart.

He chewed on his lip, his smile wavering for just a moment. I know.

He didn’t want to think about how late it was in the season, now. He didn’t want to think about how much he was going to miss your face and the spray of the ocean breeze. He didn’t want to think about how high his heart soared whenever your eyes met his. He couldn’t bring himself to.

Because he knew that once summer ended, so would everything else.

“Hey, dude, what day are you going back home?”

George fiddled with the hem of his shorts, picking at a loose thread. He thought for a moment as he stared out at the sun’s fading light as it finished sinking into the sea. “Um, on... Tuesday?” He nodded to himself. “Yeah, Tuesday.”

There was a beat of silence. Then, Sapnap asked, “Isn’t that, like, literally tomorrow?”

George glanced over to his side, Sapnap peering over at him curiously from where he sat beside him. “Yeah.”

Sapnap sent him a sad smile, reaching over to pat his back. “We’ll miss you, buddy.”

“Yeah,” Clay said from his other side. George looked up, green eyes curved into small crescents meeting his. “Things aren’t quite the same without you here.”

He laughed at that, a quiet fondness trailing over him. “I’ll miss you losers, too.”

A comfortable quiet settled over the trio for a few moments. Then, Sapnap spoke up once more. “By the way,” he said, “aren’t you gonna say something to—” He gestured vaguely, his lips twitching. “—you know who?”

George’s blood ran cold. There was no way Sapnap was talking about who he thought he was talking about.

Lowering his hand to his side, he tried not to pick at his thumb. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said slowly, suddenly taking great interest in the soles of his shoes.

He heard Clay sigh above him, nudging him with his foot. The porch banister creaked from where he leaned against it. “George, c’mon, you don’t need to lie to us. We know you’ve been seeing someone.”

Sheer panic shot through George’s system as he whirled, his eyes darting back and forth between the two. Sapnap snorted, leaning a little closer beside him. “Seriously—it’s so obvious. You are a terrible liar.”

Suddenly, George’s hand shot out, his fingers curling around Sapnap’s wrist. “You can’t tell anyone,” he said in a panicked blur, the wheels in his head spinning out of control. “Seriously, guys, you can’t, I’m not kiddin—”

“Woah,” Sapnap cried, raising his hands in front of his chest defensively, “calm down! We have no idea what this person even looks like, okay? You can chill.” He zipped his lips, sending George a cheeky wink. “Your parents won’t hear a word from us.”

George’s heart came to a screeching halt in his chest as he processed his best friend’s. “Wait,” he said, disbelief clouding his features as his grip on Sapnap’s shirt grew loose, “you haven’t seen them?”

Clay cocked a brow at him. “No? You’re the one who literally rows out to the middle of wherever to see them.” His lips curled up into a crooked smile. “Of course we haven’t.”

George’s hand went limp and it fell to his side, “Oh. Oh.” He nearly slumped over in relief. “That’s good.”

Sapnap shifted beside him, bending over to rest his chin on his hand. “Well?” he continued, prodding once more. “Have you said anything about leaving or...?”

George’s heart dropped again, but for a different reason this time. “N-No,” he admitted quietly.

Clay sent him a quizzical look, his eyebrows knitting together. “Did you never even bring it up?” When George shook his head, he stepped away from the railing, bending down to be at eye level with him. “What? Why not? You should.”

George paused for a second, then let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I know, it’s just...”

Before he could stop himself, he started talking, and talking, and talking. The words just came pouring from his lips, like a free-flowing stream with no end in sight.

He spoke of how your smile would always make his day, how infectious your laugh was. He spoke of your curiosity, and just how he would give anything to see you gaze up at him in awe. He talked about how warm your hands were when you took his into your own and how he wished he could hold them all the time. He spoke of your determination to teach him how to swim, and how you actually did it. He talked about just about anything he could possibly think of when it came to you, you, you.

He spoke of just how much he was going to miss you, and how much it was going to hurt.

By the time he finished rambling, the sun had long disappeared, his face only illuminated by the lamp on his grandfather’s porch and the moon’s pale glow. His heart felt both full and empty all at once, and at his sides, Sapnap and George stared at him in silence, only the sound of chirping crickets filling the air.

“Wow,” Clay finally said after a long moment, his eyes trained on George. “That’s...”

Sapnap nodded beside him, his own eyes wide with awe. “...woah.”

George shifted uncomfortably, clenching his jaw as he tilted his head at then. “Aren’t you guys going to say anything else?”

A voice came from behind him. “I will.”

When Sapnap and Clay glanced up above his head, George whirled, his mouth opening at the figure standing before him. “Grandpa?”

His grandfather leaned against the wall of the house, smiling in that wise, worldly way that all old people always seemed to. “You, George,” he said lowly and surely, “are in love.”

George’s eyes widened, but his expression grew firm, a sense of acceptance settling deep into his bones. “I know.”

His grandfather leaned down until he was face to face with his grandson, his dark eyes meeting George’s. “You must tell them,” he murmured. “Do not just leave without saying goodbye—without being honest with yourself.” Something sad flickered across his face, but it disappeared as soon as it arrived. “That’s the worst thing you could possibly do.”

George swallowed, his hands curling into fists at his side. “Okay,” he murmured, honest and true. “I will.”

His grandfather smiled and stood up straight once more before turning to Clay and Sapnap. “Now, you boys should get going. It’s late, and lord knows just how much packing George hasn’t done yet.”

Clay wheezed as George whipped his head around, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Grandpa!” he hissed.

While his friends stood, his grandfather simply sent him a brazen look and pulled the porch door open with a chuckle. George sighed as he turned back to Sapnap and Clay. “You’re so slow, George,” Sapnap teased as George got onto his feet.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes. “It’s not like you’re not a last minute packer, either.”

Clay waved his hand at them, instead opening his arms up with a fond grin. “Okay, enough with that—give us your goodbye hug, now.”

George chuckled, sinking into Clay’s arms as Sapnap wrapped around from the other side. They separated just a few moments later, Sapnap and Clay already heading down the steps back to their own homes. “See you around,” George called out after them with a wave.

He could barely make out the shape of Clay’s smile in the darkness as he shouted back. “See you around. Text us when you get home.”

Sapnap’s shout quickly followed. “And stop blocking my number!”

George laughed quietly, still waving away until he was positive they were long gone. Dropping his arm to his side, he cast his gaze up at the twinkling night sky. The moon stared back at him with pale, pleading eyes, its light reflecting off the dark ocean surface just a few yards away. Something heavy sank in his chest.

He wondered if you were looking at the stars, too.

It was barely the crack of dawn when George desperately tugged at the paddles, rowing harder than he ever had in his entire life. The sky had just begun to paint itself with splashes of orange and amethyst, but he could only focus on the knowledge that somewhere out there, you were waiting for him.

He was leaving in just a few hours, now. This was his only chance—his last chance. You needed to know, and he was going to tell you even if every fibre of his being screamed not to.

At that moment, a voice soared over the rolling waves.

“George!”

He whipped his head up, his gaze immediately finding your face in the pale, morning light. Under any other circumstances, he would never even think to leave the boat like this. But in that moment, he simply couldn’t bring himself to think of anything else but you. In a whirlwind, he dropped the paddles with a clang and found himself leaping over the boat into the water with a shout of your name.

“[Y/N]!”

The morning waves were warmer than he thought they were, and he swam through them with ease, watching as your tail flapped behind you as you met him halfway. The moment your hands met, his fingers intertwined with yours, your fitting perfectly in the spaces between his.

“George,” you murmured when you finally looked at him properly. “I missed you.” Your eyebrows knit together in worry as you scanned his face. “Is everything alright? You look... stressed.”

A pang of pure pain and anguish shot through his chest, and he felt the back of his eyes sting as he lowered his gaze. “I... I have to tell you something.”

You nodded without even an inkling of hesitation. “You can tell me anything. I’m here to listen.”

The tight coil in the pit of his stomach only grew at your words. He opened his mouth, then closed it. “It’s—I, um—”

He could feel your eyes on his, concerned and heavy as he struggled to find the right words. His throat felt tight and dry, but you were the last person he wanted to be dishonest with. He had to tell you. With that, he finally let the four words he never wanted to say slip from his lips.

“I have to leave.”

Your brows furrowed, hurt and confusion shooting through your lovely gaze. “Leave?” you repeated. “Why?”

He swallowed, his heart cracking further with each passing second he spent looking at your broken expression. “I only stay here at my grandfather’s for the summer, and today, I have to go back home. I won’t be able to come back until next year.”

Your eyes slowly filled with understanding, but he could still see the layer of sadness lying just beneath. His gut churned with something hot and wet. “God, [Y/N],” he said, his voice cracking as he dipped his head in shame. He felt his eyes grow glossy. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Your hands tightened around his, and you shook your head, offering him a small smile. “No, no, George, don’t say that. It’s okay. I understand.”

The words were suddenly pouring out of his mouth uncontrollably, the regret rising in his chest until he was completely submerged. “I don’t want to leave you—I never want to leave you, [Y/N]. I should have told you sooner, oh, I—”

He stopped. He didn’t think he was ever going to say it, but he let his voice drop to a tiny whisper. If not now, then when?

“I love you. I love you so, so much.”

Your eyes widened, your lips parting while you took in his words. Realization flashed across your face, and almost immediately, anxiety rolled through him as he began to ramble. “I was scared to say it out loud, scared to know what you would say, and you don’t have to feel the same way, but I just wanted you to kno—”

Suddenly, you pressed a finger to his lips, and the words died in his mouth. “George,” you crooned, your warm gaze melting the ball of nerves in his chest, “oh, George.”

You lowered your hand as you smiled at him, looking like everything he could have ever dreamed of and more. “I love you, too.”

His jaw dropped, his mind going blank. You giggled at his expression, swimming even closer to him and the space between you disappearing. “Thank you for telling me. Really.” You glanced down at the waves lapping at his chest as you continued softly. “Even if you have to go, I am so grateful for the time I’ve spent with you.”

Slowly, he slipped his hand out of yours, lifting it up to hold your face. Leaning forward, he asked just for you to hear, “Can I...?”

He didn’t have to finish the sentence for you to nod with a shy smile, your eyelids fluttering shut. Letting out one last small breath, he surged forward, your mouth meeting his in a kiss.

You tasted like sunshine, freedom, and a little bit like salt, he thought. He wasn’t sure if that last one was you or the ocean, but he found himself not caring. He was far too enraptured by the feeling of your lips on his, sweet and soft. It wasn’t like it mattered, anyway. After all, the ocean was a part of you, and he loved you and the ocean.

You parted with a gasp, your lips puffy and rosy. You looked ethereal in the sunrise, your eyes alight with streaks of pink and lavender. His thumb brushed against your cheek, and he leaned down to rest his forehead against yours.

“I know this is selfish of me to ask,” he said quietly, his eyes searching yours, “but, could you... can you—” He gulped. “Will you wait for me?”

You didn’t even have to think about it. “Yes,” you breathed, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. “Oh, yes, yes, yes, George.” Your eyes crinkled at the corners, and a surge of affection ran through him. “I promised you I wouldn’t let go, didn’t I?”

His heart swelled to the size of the ocean and back while his thumb rubbed small circles where your waist met your tail. “I’ll come back as soon as I can,” he said firmly. “You have my word, my heart, my everything—all of it is yours.”

You only smiled brilliantly in return. His arms snaked around your back as he pulled you close, your own arms wrapping tightly around waist as he rested his head in the crook of your neck. For a few long moments, the two of you simply stayed like that, silent but content with the feeling of your arms around each other. The waves rolled around you soothingly, your tail brushing against his legs as you simply tread in tandem with one another.

“I’ll miss you,” you suddenly whispered, breaking the silence as you tightened your embrace.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. “I will miss you far, far more.”

Your gaze softened, and you pressed your palm to his cheek. He leaned into your touch, his eyes squeezing shut as you spoke. “Will you, now?” you murmured.

He lowered his head, his hot breath tickling your cheek as his gaze dropped to your lips. “Yes,” he whispered. “More than you’d know.”

And as the sun rose above the horizon, his lips met yours once more, his heart dissolving into seafoam among the waves.

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, my love.

George slammed the trunk of the car, his shoulders slumping as he let out a sigh. It really was over, wasn’t it?

“You all packed to go?”

He turned at the sound of his grandfather’s voice, his lips curling upwards as he walked up to him with his eyes crinkling at the corners. Patting the back of the car, he bobbed his head. “Yeah,” he said, “I think I’m ready.”

His grandfather stopped just a foot away from him, scanning him up and down. “And,” he added, “did you say all your goodbyes?”

George‘s grin widened. While he had indeed already said goodbye to Sapnap, Clay, and you...

“Almost,” he said, his eyes flashing. “I’m just missing one.”

His grandfather’s eyes furrowed in confusion, and he opened his mouth to ask when George suddenly threw his arms around his neck, pulling him close in a tight embrace. He froze for a moment before wrapping his arms back, chuckling into the hug.

“Thank you, grandpa,” George whispered into his ear, hoping he could hear the sincerity in his voice. Pulling away, a warm, sad look flitted across his face. “I’ll see you next year.”

His grandfather reached over to pat his shoulder, giving him a quick, reassuring squeeze. “Oh, George. You have a safe trip, now.” He cast a knowing glance at the seaside. “You know I’m not the only one waiting for you to come back.”

He blinked, squinting just the tiniest bit before shaking his head, smiling to himself. His grandfather always seemed to know more than he let on, but who was he to question it?

Pulled the driver’s door open and sliding in with a grunt, his grandfather pushed it closed as he buckled the seatbelt. As he turned the key in the ignition, he sent his grandfather one last wave. Goodbye, he thought wistfully before backing up in reverse and pulling out of the driveway. In just a few moments, he was speeding down the long, winding path away from his favourite place in the whole world.

He rolled down the window with one hand as the other gripped the wheel, the ocean lying to the side. The wind whipped at his hair, the familiar sea breeze tickling his nostrils as a seagull cried out above him. Along the horizon, he could have sworn that maybe—just maybe—he caught a glimpse of a tail’s silhouette against the cerulean blue sky. He smiled to himself, his chest growing warm as he pressed down a little harder on the pedal.

George loved the ocean.

He loved the feeling of the sand squishing beneath his toes on the beach. He loved the cold tides wrapping around him like a familiar blanket as he dove into its murky depths. He loved the rocking of the boat where he sat, feeling at peace in the middle of the water.

There wasn’t anywhere else in the world where he felt so loved, so known, so understood. It would be a while until he could return to his beloved beachside. He would have to wait days, weeks, months until he could come back, but he knew he would—he had to. After all, he had given you his word.

George loved the ocean.

But most of all, he loved you.

643 notes · View notes

neesieiumz · 4 years ago

Text

Towel {Natsu Dragneel x Reader}

Summary: You had just got back from your mission, when you stumble upon the Fire Dragon Slayer using your bathtub. As you kick him out the the bath, yu remember a “conversation” you two had before you eleft? Will he bring it up or will your feelings for the pink haired dragon go unnoticed?

A/N: MERRY CHRISTMAS!! This is part one of the gifts I am giving you! I am also giving something to MHA fandom as well! I don’t know why this took me over a month to write, I literally just finished watching Fairy Tail like a month ago and I was writing this right after. This probably won’t get as much notice as my other posts but I still really want to write and share it with everyone on Tumblr... have fun and enjoy!!

Word count: 2.3k

Y/n walked throughout your home, tired after the job you had taken on by herself once again. The client was a big one, specifically asking for your skills in weather magic. An entire small country needed climate change after going through a long period of drought for over two years. You dropped your bag by your front door and dragged herself to your room, ready to take a long shower. You stretched your neck and opened your door.

“Hey, Y/n!”

“How was your mission!”

Sitting in your tub/shower was the fire dragon slayer of the guild you were currently affiliated with, Natsu Dragneel, and his flying blue cat-like creature. Looking at the two of them, you took a deep breath and cracked your neck once again.

“GET THE HELL OUT OF MY SHOWER!!!” You Screamed at both of them, making them scream and jump out of the tub.

You Grabbed the two towels on the rack beside you and threw them on the two of them, “dry yourselves off, I can’t come back from one mission without the two of you bothering me!”

You turned around and headed back to your room and removed your stained clothes and threw them in the basket near your bed. Standing in your bra and panties, you grabbed your robe hanging on your desk chair and wrapped it around your body. You turned around to find Natsu standing there with the towel wrapped around his waist. You blushed as you noticed his abs on full display.

“How long have you been standing there, you idiot,” you mumbled, pushing past him and going into the steamy bathroom.

You could feel that Natsu wanted to say something but you closed the door behind you before he could get a word in. You then turned on the water and clogged the drain, opting for a bath ratyourthan a shower to avoid having the conversation Natsu had so desperately wanted. You mixed yourbath salts and soaps and mixed them. Once they were well integrated with the water, youstripped herself of yourrobe and took off yourbra and panties, and slowly stepped into the slightly hot water. You grabbed your body wash and washcloth and began scrubbing your body, washing away all the stress of the S rank mission you were just on. It was right before you were about to get on the train to the small country.

“Y/n!!! Y/n wait up!!” You heard a familiar voice call out to her, making your turn around to see the pink-haired dragon waving at you and calling your name.

Y/n stopped in your tracks and waited for Natsu to catch up to her, to see what he wanted with her. He caught up to yourand before you knew it, he grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you close. Y/n’s eyes widened at his sudden action and your face burned as he pulled your face closer to his own.

Y/n blinked, “Can I help you, Natsu?”

He didn’t say anything, just continued to stare you down in your eyes. Y/n shifted uncomfortably, trying to take a couple of steps back but his grip on you tightened and he just continued to stare down at her.

Y/n blinked, “is there something wrong? Did I do something?”

He didn’t say anything and just continued to look at you for a while. That’s when he just smiled and patted your head a couple of times.

“See you when you come back, Y/n. I have something I want to tell you…”

Tell me…? You thought to yourself. You were about to respond but then you heard the last call for your train. You had to go before you missed it and missed your opportunity for money to pay bills. You sighed before removing his arms and taking a couple of steps back.

“I’ll see you when you get back, Natsu,” you whispered before turning around and heading to your train.

As you walked away, back turned toward him. You couldn’t see his smile and his red cheeks before grabbing Happy and walking away. You also couldn’t hear the short conversation between the two of them as they were walking away.

“YOU LOOOOOOVE HER!!!”

“SHUT UP HAPPY!!”

You opened your eyes, the hot water now lukewarm. You reached under you to unclog the drain, reached over to grab your towel before standing up, and stepping out of the bath. Drying yourself, you walked over to your mirror and grabbed your lotion off the shelf. As you lotioned down your body, you heard a knock at the door.

“Y/n, you in there? You haven’t said anything in a while? Did you drown?” Natsu knocked on the door multiple times.

You sighed, not wanting to leave this bathroom, having no idea what Natsu wanted to talk about. The thought of it made your stomach squeeze.

Could he have?... found out about? No, he couldn’t have… you only told Levy about your feelings… considering she let you in about what she felt over the Iron dragon slayer.

You shook your head, slapping your face with lotion, to both moisturize your face and to stop falling into the depths of your mind. There was no possible way he could have known how you felt…. Unless…

“AAAAHHHH SHUT UP!”

You didn’t realize you yelled that out loud until your bathroom door was broken down and Natsu, in all his glory, was standing there wearing only the towel you had given him. You had squealed and quickly wrapped the towel around you before Natsu could take a peek at your goodies.

“Natsu!! What the hell?!?!” You yelled out, taking a couple of steps back.

He ignored everything you said and speed walk to you, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you close. He looked around your face, using one hand to hold the side of your face when you tried to move. Your heart once again started beating erratically as he got so close enough, that one wrong move and his lips were on yours. You both looked at each other before he saw there was nothing physically wrong with you, he slowly let you go and backed up away from you.

“You shouted really loudly, I thought something had happened to you. Jesus…” Natsu looked away as he said, cheeks pink in embarrassment.

“BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN YOU HAVE TO BREAK DOWN MY FUCKING DOOR!?!?” You yelled at him, pushing him away towards your door.

You could feel your towel slipping, so you used one hand to grab at the knot and anotyourto push him out the door.

“Okay, okay, I’m going, no need to be do fucking pushy!” Natsu had argued, trying to catch himself as you pushed him out.

You said nothing and continued to push him out until you both reached your bed and you had pushed him on it. Over in the corner, Happy was curled up in the desk chair in the corner of your room, asleep. You were about to turn around to go put on some night clothes but you lost your footing.

It was honestly straight of a K-drama, you had fallen right on top of him. You were straddling him, your arms on eityourside of him to prevent you from falling straight on top of him. Both of your faces were inches away from each other, both of your cheeks red. You mumbled a sorry before trying to push yourself off of him before you felt a weight on your waist. It pulled you down to his body, chest touching chest. You looked down to find his hands holding your waist, holding you down.

“Um, Natsu what are… what are you doing?” You whispered to him, glancing down at your waist once more.

Natsu took a deep breath, possibly preparing himself to do something. You blinked at him, seeing him look away from you but when you made a move to get off of him, he tightened his grip on your waist. You moved around a bit and his grip never loosened.

“Y/n… I have something I want to tell you… It’s been on my mind for a while…”

You could feel your beating heart pace faster as he said this. Is this… is this for real…? Could he possibly have….

“Can you cook that pasta you made that one day for me again! It was delicious that one time you made it and I couldn’t stop thinking about it for weeks!” He smiled as if both of you weren't almost naked, arms-length from each on top of your bed.

You blinked. And blinked again. And blinked again.

“MOTHERFUCKER!!!” You screamed, forcefully pushing his arms off of you, shooting off your bed and him.

“I can’t believe it!!! AAAAAAHHHHHH!!” You screamed again, walking to a random corner kicking it as hard as you could.

“I should have known! You absolute dense idiot! Oh who am I kidding, I should have known! I should have known…” You sobbed the last line, falling to your knees and covering your face with an arm.

Should have known, should have known he doesn’t like me that way… should have known that… it’s probably Lucy he likes anyway…

You took a couple of deep breaths before rewrapping yourself in your towel before walking over to your drawer and pulling out a loose cami and shorts to wear to bed. You could feel Natsu’s eyes on you but he didn't say anything. Why? You had no idea and you pretended like you didn’t care. You are about to walk back to your bathroom to change when you heard the bed shift and quick footsteps behind you. Before you could quicken your footsteps, you could feel his hands at your waist. He pulled you close to him, showing no signs of letting go.

You struggled in his hold, “fucking let me go! Let me go Natsu!! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

He ignored what you said and stomped back to your bed and threw you on it. Before you could sit up and kick him, he grabbed your arms and pinned you to the bed, his tan body towering over you. Before you could stop yourself, you glanced down at his abs… his...very-defined abs…

Fuck, stop fucking looking at him! That’s how you get caught in his trap!

He stared down at you once again, his grip on your wrists not letting up.

Not again…. Not this again… Lord help me, I don’t think I can survive toying with me like this again-

You were broken out of your thoughts by a sudden force on your lips. You blinked...then blinked again, before looking down to find Natsu’s lips on yours.

Fuck… he’s kissing me… he’s actually kissing me.. Y/n do something! Move, fucking kiss him back!

But for some reason, probably shock, you couldn’t move. Natsu continued to kiss you for a couple more seconds before slowly letting up and looking at you with narrowed eyes. You looked at each of you for a little bit before he broke the stare first. He let go of your wrists and looked away, and when you looked at his eyes a little bit, you could see a tear threatening to come out.

He’s gonna cry…

Natsu wasn’t one for crying, that was what broke you out of your shock and before you could think clearly about yourself, you grabbed the side of his head and pulled him down before replanting his lips onto yours. His eyes widen at this before relaxing into the kiss, using his left hand to caress the side of your face. Both of you stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, both of you moving around to find a position comfortable for both of you. While his hand was on your head, he used his free, to grab at you by the waist and pulled the bottom half of your body towards him. Using his left knee, he slightly spread your legs apart before moving his body in between your legs. Once he was comfortable, both of you grabbed at each other, your tongues intertwining and fighting with each other. You caressed his back before moving up to his hair, gripping at the strands.

His lips tasted like fire, not like they were burning you, no. They tasted like the essence of fire, smoky cinnamon, and honey, which was the last thing you expected from him. From Natsu. You couldn’t get enough of him… it was everything you dreamed about and more… You wanted more, you wanted to continue, you never wanted his lips off of you again.

Then you could feel your lungs burn, screaming for air. You wanted to continue but oxygen was calling your name. Taking a deep breath through your nose, you slowly let go of his lips. The both of you heaving, gasping for breaths. You moved your hands slowly to his face and gave him a soft smile.

“You wanna talk about what just happened?” You asked him.

He tilted his head and gave you a big smile, “After you make some of your freaking delicious pasta!”

You chuckled and hit him in the shoulder, “you’re such a fatass. Get off me, let me go make it.”

He laughed out loud and rolled off you, allowing you to sit up and tightening your towel around you. Before you could fully get off your bed to change and head to your kitchen. Both you and Natsu heard something from the corner of the room. You both turned to find an awake Happy using his paw to hold back his snickers.

“YOU LOOOOVE EACH OTHER!”

“SHUT UP HAPPY!!” Both of you yelled at the blue exceed.

#fairy tail x reader #fairy tail masterlist #fairy tail #fairy tail smut #natsu x reader #natsu dragon slayer #natsu dragneel #natsu fairy tail #ft erza #natsu dragneel x reader #happy the exceed #happy the cat #lucy heartfilia #gray fairy tail #gray fullbuster

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aellynera · 4 years ago

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Goddess (Orestes x Reader)

GODDESS

(Hi. I wrote an Orestes story - it started as a joke about the way Apocalypse says “my goddess”, and then I was like “oh man I want Orestes to call me his goddess” and then as usual, I don’t know how, but this happened. It’s rather different than most things I write, but I quite enjoyed writing it and I hope you like it. Comments, likes, and reblogs always appreciated!)

Word Count: ~4400

Summary: Orestes is a constant in your life and has a particular way of constantly reminding you.

Warnings: Mentions of character death (briefly described but not graphically.) Implied female reader. Definite probable historical inaccuracies taken for poetic license and dramatic effect. ANGST (I made myself cry while I was writing this.) Christians doing morally void but historically accurate things. Fictional timelines.

When you are four years old, your parents leave everything they’ve built in Rome - their jobs in the palace, their lives in the city, your father’s position on the council -upon the orders of the Emperor and move to Alexandria. Your father’s new role is to assist in turning that city into a bastion of the Empire, to help strengthen the government and support the supremacy of Rome. Your mother is to be a gentle guide to the women, in hearth and home and higher society. And because you are theirs, you go with them.

They meet with the prefect upon your arrival and he welcomes your family. He is bright and cheerful, yet loud and pompous and booming, stern but wise, and while he is a kind man, his volume frightens you. You cower behind your mother’s skirts, steadfastly clinging to her and refusing to join in any pleasantries.

Another woman suddenly appears, a small boy with curly hair and bright dark eyes holding her hand. The boy regards you curiously and asks why you won’t come out and say hello. His mother tells him you’re shy, while your mother encourages you to release your death grip on her gown. Finally, after much coaxing, you relent and she pushes you gently towards the little boy.

His mother says you should go play in the garden while the grown-ups talk, and he reaches a tiny hand out to you, wide-eyed and smiling. His name is Orestes, and he is six.

And when you take his hand with a shy little smile, his voice comes out as a whisper and tells you he thinks you’re a goddess, and he drags you towards the garden to show you the little blue flowers that dot the grass, and you believe him.

***

When you are eight years old, one day you finish your chores early and decide to spend your extra time in the yard, weaving some wildflowers together into a chain while the mid-afternoon sun warms your shoulders.

You are quite happy to be alone and not around the grown-ups for now; they’re so loud, sometimes too loud. You crave the quiet, seek it out often, and you bask in it.

Until a rush of dark curls and bright eyes tears past your house, into your yard, and grabs you by the hand, knocking your flower chain carelessly to the ground. He insists you come play with him on the hill nearby and with a squeal of indignation, you let yourself be dragged along behind him.

Your ire over the discarded flower chain is soon forgotten as your squeals become laughter as you roll and roll down the hill together, grass and dirt sticking to your robes and tufts sticking to his unruly curls.

When you tell him he looks silly, he tells you he doesn’t, and you insist that he does and he protests that he doesn’t. And so it goes back and forth and back again, until you push him or he pushes you or someone pushes the other and you both go tumbling down that hill, end over head over feet, your descent only stopped by a patch of mud at the bottom.

He might be the son of the prefect, and he might be your best friend, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t an enormous brat sometimes.

For a minute you’re both panting and red-faced and near tears, until he starts to giggle and you can’t help but join in, and only laugh harder at his outraged gasp when you hit him square in the chest with a chunk of mud.

And on the way back to your house, when you’re worrying your bottom lip thinking on how to explain to your mother why you’re covered in dead grass and damp bits of dirt, your robes most likely ruined, he tells you with the kind of confidence only possessed by a boy of ten years that everything will be fine, because you are a goddess and brave and strong, and you believe him.

***

When you are twelve years old, you hear of the school that Hypatia is running, because Orestes tells you about it when he starts going. You don’t like that he’s doing something without you. You don’t like being left behind and left out and you want to go to this school too.

Your mother would easily say yes, but your father is reluctant, and it’s not that he thinks a woman shouldn’t learn philosophy and how to read and do arithmetic; it’s more that enough other people in the city do think like this and he is convinced it will not be safe for you.

You care little for your safety. All you want, all you desire, is to be part of this group of scholars and to go to this school and learn. And what danger can possibly be there, when a woman is the one in charge?

So you beg and plead and bargain with your father, until a boy - now a young man - with curls like nighttime and eyes nearly as dark and twinkling with stars, steps in and says he’ll watch over you during your classes, and your father gives his permission. And so you start attending Hypatia’s school.

And when the older boys, boys who were nearly men and should know better, start to bully and deride you for desiring knowledge, when they taunt you and steal your scrolls and yank the ribbons from your hair, he steps in and tells them in no uncertain terms to leave you alone. Neither of your fathers, especially his, are particularly thrilled with the tussles he gets in on your behalf, or the black eye that one petulant snipe Cyrus gives him when he connects a punch when Orestes isn’t properly paying attention.

You frown at him as he sits in a chair next to the washbasin, a clean wet cloth clutched in your hand. He winces as you clean the blood from his cheek and gingerly probe the bruise swelling around his eye.

And when you softly ask why he’d do such a stupid thing, he tells you that even a goddess needs a hero to protect them sometimes, and even though you think him entirely ridiculous and heat comes unbidden to your cheeks, it makes you giddy to believe him.

***

When you are sixteen years old, you watch the boy with the wild ebony curls and liquid chocolate eyes fall in love with a girl. Only it isn’t a girl, it’s a woman, and you realize he’s been doing it for years.

Ever since your first day in the new city, he has always been by your side and you by his, an inseparable duo. You thought that would never change, but here you are, finding yourself forced to watch your best friend slowly but surely let his heart be ensnared by your very own teacher.

All he can talk about now, it seems, is Hypatia and her philosophies; Hypatia and her scrolls and the amazing things she is currently reading; Hypatia and her outlandish theories on the universe and the stars. Always Hypatia, all things Hypatia.

You never knew you could hate someone as amazing and wonderful as Hypatia.

It doesn’t seem to matter that his attentions are not equally returned, that she never fully indulges his lovesick whims and overreaching attempts to gain her attention. She continues to treat him as a student, and outside of class possibly even as a dear friend, and he continues to pine.

One afternoon you’re among the stacks of scrolls at the library, trying to find the parchment necessary to complete an assignment Hypatia has given you. You honestly would rather not find it and not even bother finishing your assigned work right now, and you must have some kind of look on your face because he takes the scroll you’re clutching from your hand and leads you to a mostly hidden nook in the room. And he stops talking about Hypatia for a moment to ask you what is wrong.

You want to tell him you miss him, that you want him back, that he’s making a mistake, but you can’t, you don’t. It takes a bit more coaxing, but you finally tell him you’re lonely and you wish there was someone you could find, someone you had to love as much as he had his person, he smiles and tells you that one day you will, because you’re a goddess and the right person will be pulled to the love and light you always emit. You smile back weakly and blink and look away and you want nothing more than to believe him.

***

When you are twenty years old, the library at Alexandria is destroyed.

It happens on a sunny afternoon not unlike so many others that have passed before, when suddenly the doors are broken down and the Christians rush in and the chaos ensues.

You’re sitting at a table with a quill in your hand, carefully writing your thoughts on a piece of parchment, when you hear the shouting in the entryway. And before you know what’s going on, shelves are being knocked over, papers tossed into the air like so much confetti, scrolls being thrown left and right. The air is beginning to smell acrid; you can see a few people setting small fires in some of the stacks.

The windows above you shatter as others throw rocks and even a chair, and you look around wildly for a way out. You don’t know which way is the right way to go, or even if there is a right way to go.

Everything is madness.

A pair of arms suddenly shoot out and grab you around the waist and your scream pierces the air like the horn on the top of the lighthouse trying to guide a ship to shore. Instead you realize you’re trying to drive this ship to its ruin, to free yourself from its depths with wildly swinging elbows and kicks, until you hear a familiar voice shouting your name over the ruckus.

You take in your assailant, all frantic curls and impossibly wide, dark eyes, and collapse into him in relief. Orestes tells you that you need to go, you need to get out, and to find both your fathers in the nearby council chambers and they’ll know where to go, where it’s safe. You ask him to come with you, but he shakes his head.

He tells you he needs to help save as many of the books and scrolls as he can, and you tell him to give you all you can carry and when you run, you’ll take them with you. So he loads your arms full to bursting, and when a rock flies by inches from your face and you drop the items at the top of the pile, he ignores that and pushes you roughly in the direction of the side exit. He says you must leave now, and he’ll be behind you before you know it.

He presses his lips to your temple ever so briefly, spares you a pained smile, and says you’re a goddess for the small bit of assistance you are giving.

As you run for safety, or what might be further peril, you spare a glance over your shoulder and see him helping Hypatia grab as much of the library’s contents as they can, and you don’t have another second to spare on deciding whether or not to believe him.

***

When you are twenty four, it’s your wedding day and everyone tells you this will be the most joyous day of your life so far. Your mother helps you dress in the softest, most expensively beautiful gown you’ve ever owned, and one of your sisters weaves a crown of laurels for your hair. Another sister makes a chain of wildflowers to wind around your wrist. You have never felt as beautiful as you do on this day.

Your father comes to the door of the chamber where your preparations are taking place, to let you know that the guests have all arrived and the groom is nearly ready, and it is almost time. He gives you a kiss on both cheeks, a gesture not common from him, and tells you he will be waiting out by the garden gate when you are ready. Your mother and sisters each kiss your cheek and leave as well, giving you a moment to yourself to gather your thoughts and emotionally prepare for the ceremony.

The door opens again a few minutes later and you turn to face the person behind it, Your eyes go wide, confused, as you take in the man before you. His dark curls are smoothed back and elegantly styled, his robes are regal and dashing, and his eyes are bright and nervous.

You tell him he shouldn’t be here.

He tells you that he knows, but he can’t help it, he has to see you. That he has been thinking of you all morning, wondering how beautiful you look, how happy you must be, and he just had to see you before you walk down the aisle to take your vows.

You bite your lip and tell him, again, that he shouldn’t be here and you can’t stop your voice from shaking. You turn your head away and look anywhere but at him.

And he repeats that he knows this, and he knows it’s wrong, it goes against all protocols, but he can’t help himself, can’t stop thinking that this is the last time he’s going to see you, see your smile and maybe hear your laugh, might be the last time your eyes can gaze upon each other and the last time he can hold you in his arms as his best friend.

You can’t think of a single thing to say to him, and even if you could, you’re certain your body will not cooperate.

Because he is not the one you are marrying. No, this marriage was arranged by your father and the Emperor, and there is the overwhelming chance that you must go back to Rome, and if you and your new husband leave Alexandria it is not likely you will ever return.

This might be the last time he can tell you that you shine with a light brighter than all the heavens, that you are beautiful and he hopes you will be happy, and you truly are a goddess among mortals.

And so Orestes does. He kisses you softly on your forehead, staying there a bit longer than propriety suggests, and quietly slips from the room. And you can’t see for the tears swimming in your eyes, and you want with all your heart to believe him, but you can’t help but find his words hollow and realize this will be far from the greatest day of your life.

***

When you are barely turned twenty-five, there is a knock on your door in the middle of the night. Perhaps knock is not the correct word, it’s more of an insistent pounding, and you swear under your breath at what could possibly be so important to rouse you out of bed at this unacceptable hour.

You pull a robe over your nightdress and open the door, and all the air leaves your lungs.

Four centurions are standing on your stoop, with a man who looks vaguely familiar; is he a general, maybe, or a captain? You can’t remember where you’ve seen him before, but it doesn’t matter, when he greets you solemnly and begins to speak, and tells you that your husband will not be returning from the front.

You did not return to Rome, as had originally been decreed. You stayed in Alexandria after your marriage because skirmishes had broken out along a few of the empire’s borders, and your new husband was called to action to fight for his ruler and the kingdom. Deep down, you could not have been more glad of it, for though you were born there, Rome had not been your home for over twenty years, and starting a new life there with a new husband would not have made it any more so.

Your knees give out from under you and you consider for a moment that you should be crying, but you aren’t really sad and it strikes you as odd, but you can’t force the tears to come. You love your husband, in a way, but you’re not sad that he won’t be coming home. You’re relieved, and the instant that thought hits you and sends a jolt through your body, you start to laugh. The general, or captain, or whoever he is and his guards look at each other, then at you, and back to each other in utter confusion as you continue to giggle.

It all happens in mere seconds, and you’re sinking to the stone floor beneath, and a very familiar voice, one you have not heard since the day you were wed, tells the guards to stand aside and strong arms catch you before you can tumble completely.

His hair is wild and curly like he was just pulled out of bed himself, and his dark eyes shine with worry and compassion, and he asks you if you’re alright, and this is what finally breaks you from your laughter and brings wetness to your eyes.

Orestes holds you as you cry into his chest and you don’t see the pointed look he gives to the captain and the guards, nor do you see them pull back enough to close the door and wait outside.

You don’t know how long you sit there on the floor in the front hall, or how you’ve possibly gotten his robes that soggy, but eventually you calm and the thoughts roll through your brain again. You are crying because someone has died, you realize this is true even if you’re not so very sad it was your husband. You’re crying because it was your husband and now there will be the mourning period you must dutifully attend as a grieving widow. And now that you’re a widow, eventually you will be expected to take another husband, if one even dares to want you.

And you’re crying because the one reason you were glad to stay in this forsaken city - in the Alexandria which had become your home - the one reason you hoped every day to lay eyes on again and every night resigned that you never would, was suddenly here, his arms wrapped around you and his voice whispering words of comfort into your hair.

You’re not sure when he picks you up and carries you back to your bed, carefully laying you on your pillows and pulling the sheet up to cover your shoulders. You’re not sure how long he stays, holding your hand and brushing stray tendrils of hair from your face. And you’re not sure how long you drift in and out, emotional exhaustion finally catching up and pulling you into nothingness, but before you fade out completely, you feel his thumb gently brush the remaining tears from your cheek, and feel the soft press of his lips on your forehead as he calls you a goddess and tells you to rest.

And as you finally give yourself to the twilight, you aren’t sure if you imagined it, but you choose to believe him, and you cling to it.

***

You’re not sure when it happens, to be honest. Time starts to blend together after that, you just know that you’re older and that it happens, and it isn’t right and it isn’t moral and it isn’t fair. Not to anyone involved, not to the city, not at all.

Hypatia has died, been murdered in the temple at the hands of those who profess themselves to be righteous saviors, brutally stoned and ripped apart as she stood there, proud and defiant to the end. How anyone could do such a thing to another human, especially one such as her, is beyond your comprehension.

It only gets worse when they burn her corpse on a pyre in effigy in the middle of the agora.

Word comes to you of the horrible events, and your first instinct is to find him, the way he found you, came to you when word of your husband’s death made its way back to the city. You set down the parchment you’re scribbling on the desk in your room and grab a dark cloak, partly to conceal yourself and party to ward off the slight chill from the wind.

You make your way to the prefect’s palace but you’re turned away at the gate by pair of surly-looking guards, and giving your name, and then your father’s name, and then the fact that your father reports directly to Rome makes no difference to them. They have been told to let no one in, and let no one out.

No one except the person you’re looking for, apparently, because somewhere in the aftermath you discover that Orestes is nowhere to be found.

No one knows where he’s gone, and no one knows when he left, just that it was sometime between Hypatia being murdered and the fake funeral pyre. He had words with Cyril, someone told you, and then after that, no one knows.

And the Christians take over the city, much like the library so many years ago, and more people are burned at the stake, more people are murdered, more progress is halted, all in the name of what is right and what is true.

They will kill you, too, if they find you, or find out you’re looking for Orestes. It’s been years since you’ve really been in his presence in anything but the smallest of ways, especially in public, but you know there are still enough people who know how close you were. And if they know you used to be close, you know they won’t hesitate to come after you the same way they came for the philosopher.

So you make inquiries as discreetly as possible, ask the gossips that litter the merchants’ stalls in the most innocent way possible, like you’re just a curious citizen asking what’s happened to the rule of order in the city. You even ask your father, once, but he doesn’t reply and his stony gaze makes you certain to never ask again.

And you bury yourself in scrolls and reading, in star charts and theories; in anything, really, that will take your mind off everything that is happening and your lost prefect. Your lost friend, your best friend.

The man you truly love, even if it’s taken you years of self-doubt and missed chances to fully realize and admit it, and now, perhaps do something about it.

One day as you’re sitting at your desk, quill in hand and head in the clouds, you think of something. Something that may be nothing, but it comes to you in a flash and you have an idea of where to go, where to find him, somewhere that few others might know.

You carefully pack a bag with some clothes and supplies, and a crudely drawn map that you sketch from memory and hope you’ve gotten right. It’s been so long since you were there but you’re fairly sure you remember the way. You know that Orestes would remember.

A long day’s journey and a fitful night’s sleep take you into the next day, and the afternoon turns into dusk when the hillside comes into view. It is not the same hill you tumbled down more than once when the two of you got into a scrum, but it’s the one that you would go when you could both sneak away and no one would notice for a few days, and you’d stare at clouds by day and the stars by night.

There is an outcropping set back from the hill, in the base of the mountains nearby, that a person wouldn’t see if they didn’t know where to look. You’d found it one day during a particularly vicious thunderstorm and taken refuge in the cave there, and you’d both commented on how someone had clearly found it once before you, for it was somewhat set up as a living space, with some mats and blankets and a few rations left on makeshift shelves. Anytime you were on these excursions and it would rain, or you simply wanted to be out of the sun, that was where you would go.

And you hope against hope that this is where your answer lies.

You crest the hill and make your way to the foot of the mountain and you can’t help but smile, just a little, thinking this is where he would have gone, should have gone, as his name means of the mountains. In his abandonment, his escape from the city, could he have taken it literally? You’ve known him so long and it feels like the kind of thing Orestes would do.

The hovel comes into view, and you drop your pack, because he does too. Tending to a fire at the mouth of the cave, his back turned slightly to you, his curls a glorious disaster, and he’s grown a beard since last you’d seen him. It’s a look you’ve not seen on him before, but you quite like it, although you consider for just a moment you’d like any look on him at this moment, because he is real and he is standing right in front of you.

The sound of the pack hitting the ground makes him turn, and his dark eyes shine in the firelight, and he looks at you for long moments but doesn’t say anything. Orestes just stares at you, disbelieving, like you might be some kind of mirage or a trick of the light or even some kind of wicked spirit sent to torment him, and so he just stares.

Until you breathe his name.

He blinks once, and his face is suddenly full of hope and relief, all the tension and disbelief of the previous moments falling away, and your heart soars to the heavens and thumps ever so boldly in your chest, and your smile threatens to crack your lips, and the tears fall freely as words finally leave his mouth.

“My goddess.”

~end~

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dropssofjupitter · 4 years ago

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Coffee Cups and Cigarettes

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: Ever since Fred’s near death experience at the battle of Hogwarts, everyone at the Burrow had been walking on eggshells around him and doting on him as much as they could. Everyone, that is, except you. The end of the war may have freed everyone else, but it changed and hardened you. And after a late night walk, Fred is going to find out just how much.

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Mentions of war, PTSD, nightmares, not handling trauma in a healthy way, mentions of depression but not in an explicit way, depictions of smoking, very slight mention of drinking

Masterlist

A/N: I don’t even know where this came from but here have an angst fic. Also I’m really sorry for the lack of content lately! I’ve been struggling with my mental health and am trying to pull myself out of my rut by picking back up my unfinished fics.

You could still hear the screams. You could still remember watching bodies fall and the bright flashes of curses burst across your vision. You saw the bodies of Remus and Tonks, lying still, arms outstretched towards each other, every time you closed your eyes. You remembered the feeling of dread settling into your stomach as you spotted his deathly still body across the room, his family surrounding his body with tear stained faces.

Memories of the war haunted you every time you closed your eyes, suffocating you with their feelings of fear and desperation. They woke you up in a panicked frenzy night after night, hands gripping the bed sheets and desperately reaching for your wand out of impulse. Eventually, you stopped trying to sleep. Instead you took to sitting in your room, a cup of coffee in your hand and a book open on your lap. To the others, it seemed like you were coping, like you were trying to return to whatever sense of normalcy that you’d had before the war. They couldn’t have been more wrong. What they saw as coping, you knew was the opposite. Instead, you were using the books and insomnia as a way to ignore your feelings of inner turmoil and pain.

When the flashes of green curses began to overtake your vision every time a wave of exhaustion rolled through you, you turned to walks. You walked in the woods outside of the Burrow, letting the sickly sweet summer nights wash you in their cool heat as you walked for hours upon hours. You walked until your legs felt like jelly and your breath was coming out in short bursts; you walked until the orange hues of the sun tainted the dark night that had cloaked you for so long.

No one at the Burrow knew that you took such walks, and to be honest, you wanted to keep it that way. Your actions would only make them worry and try to reach out more, and as it was, you could hardly interact with them at all. Every time you looked at the Weasley’s or your friends, your head couldn’t help but to fill with what-if’s.

What if Harry hadn’t woken up? What if Ron had failed to dodge the killing curse? What if Hermione had decided to take on Nagini by herself? What if Mrs. Weasley hadn’t been able to kill Bellatrix? What if Fred had been unable to minimize the damage on the Confrigo curse?

They consumed you, those thoughts. They threatened to voice themselves every time you so much as glanced up at someone with red hair, so you kept to yourself. But while you sought solitude, everyone else sought comfort. Harry and Ginny were hardly apart from each other for long, hands clasped tightly at all times. They whispered in hushed voices in the corners of the rooms, strained smiles on their faces. At night, you could hear Ginny’s soft footsteps pass by your door as she headed to Harry’s room.

Ron and Hermione were complicated. They were often engaged in fights that soon evolved into screaming matches; sometimes Hermione won, other times Ron did. In the end, it never really mattered who won. The two of them would make up by dinner, and sit next to each other with their hands intertwined underneath the table and terse smiles on their faces, knowing that tomorrow they would have the exact same fight.

If Fred and George were close before, they were nearly inseparable now. They had closed their joke shop for the time being, giving Fred time to heal after his brush with death, and were often found trying their best to keep the mood in the house light. They knew all too well the importance of humor in dark times.

Fred had changed though, and you knew that you weren’t the only one who’d noticed it. You’d caught him staring into the distance multiple times, eyes trained on something that no one else could see. His skin would pale, his hands would shake, and sometimes it would take him an agonizingly long time to pull himself out of whatever he was seeing.

No one ever mentioned it. Instead, they chose to live in their blissful ignorance and show their support in ways that they were familiar with. They let him choose meals and take his seat first. They joked with him, let him choose the nights entertainment, never asked him to do any chores. They were walking on eggshells around him, and it was infuriating.

You knew that you could never tell them that, though. You knew that if you did, the entire structure that the family had been clinging to for so long would topple without warning. So you bit your tongue and forced a smile; forced yourself to laugh along with them at one of George’s strained jokes, and forced yourself into complacency.

And it had been working, until Fred had wandered outside and, subsequently, upon you leaning on the porch railing.

It was dark out, still the early hours of the morning, and you had a mug of steaming coffee clasped in your hands like a lifeline. Hearing the front door open, you looked over at him, obviously startled before looking quickly away once more. “I didn’t know that anyone else was up,” you said quietly, taking a small sip of your coffee and wincing as it burned the tip of your tongue.

He hesitated before replying, moving to sit on the rickety steps that connected the porch to the ground. “Neither did I,” he replied with a small smile, fiddling with a package in his hand as he looked out at the fields surrounding his home.

You glanced over at him and nodded to his hands. “What are those?” you asked, doing your best to make conversation as the two of you were bathed in starlight. You hoped it wasn’t incredibly obvious that you were uncomfortable with him being outside with you. It felt like he was encroaching on your safe space, but you didn’t have the heart to kick him out.

His hands stop flipping the package and he stilled for a moment before forcing a smile onto his face and opening it. He looked over at you as he pulled out a cigarette and placed it between his lips before taking a lighter out of his shirt pocket. “My secret to staying sane,” he replied, lighting the cigarette and placing the nearly empty container on the step next to him.

You tried to force a smile, mouth turning up at the ends in a shaky gesture as your eyes shifted from staring past him to staring at the fields surrounding you, but after a minute you dropped it. You were so tired of pretending that everything was okay. That you were okay. A deafening silence fell over the two of you, and it fell heavily on your shoulders.

You used to be good at talking to people; before the war. You used to be able to start a conversation over the most mundane objects and let it foster a wary friendship. You were exceptional at it. And then the war happened. Now you didn’t know how to talk to anyone. Every conversation was strained and dense; filled with silences that neither you nor those that you were conversing with knew how to handle.

You glanced over at Fred, flinching as your mind twisted the sight and forced you to see the deathly stillness you had come to know quite well in your nightmares. Closing your eyes, you turned your head away and took a drink for your mug. You were far too sober to be dealing with this right now.

Fred took a drag of the cigarette, inhaling deeply before blowing out a puff of smoke, watching it curl and flip in the cold sky. “Why won’t you look at me?” he asked quietly, staring down at the cigarette that lay between his fingers before looking up at you.

You stared out at the field, watching the fog lay over it like a loving blanket. Your coffee mug was resting comfortably in your hands, and you blew on it gently. “Because every time I do, I watch you die.”

You were never one to sugarcoat the truth, he knew that. Often you were even described as brutally honest. But it was no stretch to say that he had never expected you to say that. He hesitated in his reply, something you picked up on easily yet held your tongue about. “I didn’t die,” he replied, taking another drag. “No matter how much George wants to be one brother short of a twin, I can’t give him the satisfaction.” His lips curled up in a smile, and you knew that he was trying to diffuse the tense air around the two of you.

“But you almost did,” you said calmly, lifting the mug to your lips and taking a sip. It was scary sometimes, how unbothered you were about things like this. It was like you weren’t properly feeling, and maybe you weren’t. Or maybe you were compartmentalizing, shoving what you didn’t need into the depths of your mind.

“So did everyone else. We all took risks in the war, but we made it out,” he said with a shrug, turning his head to look out at the field as well.

You took time with your response, turning the words over in your mouth and feeding them to yourself in a mental debate. You knew that once you said them, you would be opening the talk into something more, something bigger. Maybe...maybe that would be a good thing. “Then why does it feel like we never left?” you asked in a soft voice, eyes now trained on the coffee in your hands.

He paused, cigarette frozen inches from his lips. You could tell he was mulling over his answer as well; wondering if he should let you in or push you back beyond his walls. Eventually, he smiled, an expression that conveyed no joy and was paired with a bitter laugh. “I wish I fucking knew.”

You accepted his answer, choosing not to pry or open up any further as the two of you lapsed into a comfortable silence. You listened to the birds chirp their wakeup call as the sun finally began to emerge from beyond the hills, and inwardly you knew that your time out here was limited now. Your friends were going to start waking up soon, and they would be concerned if they found you outside at this hour. Just as you were about to finish the rest of your coffee and leave, Fred spoke again.

“Why were you out here?” he asked, eyes turning to catch yours as you finally looked over at him. You saw a flash of his body in the Great Hall, pale skinned and eerily quiet with his family standing over him and quickly looked away again.

You debated lying to him. Telling him that you’d heard a noise and were unable to go back to sleep. But you were so tired of lying. You were tired of hiding flinches, of hiding the dark circles under your eyes, of hiding. Your fingers fidgeted with the bracelet you wore on your wrist, a reminder of your parents, of what you lost, and you sighed. “It’s hard for me to sleep, so I come out here instead. It’s . . peaceful. Quiet. It makes me feel safe.”

Out of the corner of your eye you saw him nod in understanding while taking a final drag from his cigarette and dropping it onto the porch before stomping it out. “It’s the nightmares, right? They keep you up and take you back to the war.”

You silently nodded your head, closing your eyes and pressing your hands up to your face as a sudden feeling of desperation welled up inside of you. “I haven’t slept in months,” you confessed softly. You squeezed your eyes shut, fighting against the slew of emotions that were suddenly surfacing after being pushed down and held back for so long.

You could sense Fred hesitating, feel him cautiously stand up. You heard the soft creaking of the porch as he walked over to you, unsure of what to do and how to help. “Can I . . . can I hug you?” he asked gently, feet shuffling as he shifted his weight from side to side.

Taking in a deep, shuddering breath, you nodded. “I just-” your voice broke and you cleared your throat. “I just want to know when I’m going to stop seeing everything. I can’t blink without seeing the school. Without seeing him. It’s like..,” you took another breath, your shoulders shaking and your eyes shining with unshed tears. “It’s like I’m always going to be back there. Watching people die. Unable to save any of them.”

Fred wrapped his arms around you, resting his head on top of yours as the two of you faced the grassy hills that surrounded the Burrow. “Every time I close my eyes I wonder what would’ve happened if I hadn’t fired that counter curse.”

Your hands dropped from your face slowly, reaching down to place a comforting hand on his arm to let him know that you were there for him as tears slipped silently down your face.

“I can see it, you know. When they look at me. I can see it in their eyes. They’re all thinking the same thing that I am.” His fists clench and he grits his teeth, pain evident on his face as his mind takes him back to the final battle. “If I had been a second slower...” he trailed off, eyes hardening.

You could smell the smoke on him like this. It clung to him like a cloud, sticking to his clothes and enveloping you in its scent. It was, surprisingly, calming. And you could see why he had turned to smoking as a coping mechanism.

Wordlessly you lifted one of his hands to your lips, pressing a soft kiss to his palm. “Thank you for not being a second slower,” you whispered, leaning your head back against his chest and savoring the feeling of being held.

You knew that in a few short minutes you would have to move; to go back up to your room and pretend that you had gotten a restful nights sleep and that you were actually okay. But for now you were content to be here, in this moment. You were content to live in this point in time for a few more seconds and pretend that you weren’t terribly broken inside. You could allow yourself this, one thing.

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#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #Fred and George #Harry Potter #ginny weasley #molly weasley #fred weasley fic #fred weasley lives #fred weasley angst #fred weasley x reader angst #hurt/comfort #mostly angst #jupe writes

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delldarling · 3 years ago

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diving stars | hior

male bog mummy x male reader 3754 words citrus | mild description of death, minor mention of blood, mild description of mummy having stitches (though not getting them), kissing, implied future relationship test match-up: Waaaayyyy back when, I decided I should try my hand at some match-ups. I wanted a unique experience for those coming to me for commissions, and so went through several versions of a 'choose your own adventure' kind of personality questionnaire. Matt, or @severedreamerbeard, was one of the people lovely enough to let me test out my match-up process! Thank you a whole gosh darn bunch Matt, for letting me do so in the first place, and I'm going to heap on extra thanks because I've been such a snail about it! <3

————-　🌠　————-

Much of the bog is a terrible endless black, with nothing to reflect but the cloud covered nighttime sky. Scrubby, dried grass circles the edges of the water, the torchlight making their flickering shadows look like creeping, growing thorns across the opaque surface, ready to snag the unwary and drag them down into the depths. There’ll be no coming back out of that dark water, Hior knows, not once he’s been pushed in.

I’ll close my eyes before I go under, he silently promises, though either way he supposes it shouldn’t matter much. The last thing his body sees will only ever be darkness. He swallows, tucks auburn hair behind his ears, calloused fingers catching at his skin, and pastes on a grim smile, turning to face the gathered people. He can’t linger any longer, no matter how much he would like to, not if he wants the rest of the village to make it through this. Not many of them have gathered, either. Just enough to see the ritual through to the end. Honestly, it’s better this way. If his brother had been allowed to leave the defenses, then Hagan would have interrupted Mother Gree, ritual or not. He would have tried to stop her, tried to stop Hior, even if it meant the loss of the village.

Hagan will be angry.

Hior sweeps his eyes over the surrounding villagers, their frightened faces and trembling hands, their teary eyes reflecting the torches in the misty dark. Hagan will be angry, but the fact of the matter is that he will still be alive to hold onto that anger. Hior can’t find it within himself to regret that.

There’s no time for being maudlin, Hior tells himself, and his smile becomes a bit too wide, stretching painfully at the corners.

This will be the last he ever sees of the village if the Gods deem his offering worthy, but that’s alright. Really. As long as he knows the village will be protected, as long as he knows that his people will do their best to endure, he's willing to fight his way through the Beyond and stay there.

Mother Gree begins to speak in a rough, ragged voice, worn through by years of pipe smoke and leaning over heavily herbed fires. Her words—the spell, the prayer—drape themselves around Hior’s shoulders like a heavy blanket, sweeping away the tension of his worries and the fear of the crowded villagers. Hior’s smile softens.

Mother Gree’s only warning is the icy grasp of her fingers, twisting sharply into the hair at the nape of Hior’s neck. The blade pinches. Wet heat spills down his throat and over his chest, soaking his clothes as he begins to fall backward.

Overhead, the clouds part, and a fierce rumbling fills the air, punctuated by sharp screams. A star, smaller than a pebble, but more brilliant by far than any flickering fire, falls out of the sky. It dives after Hior’s falling body, following him down into the depths of the bog.

The last thing Hior sees is light.

————-　🌠　————-

It’s midday, or just after, and there are odd shapes in the clouds, like reaching hands backlit by the sunshine. The shifting shades of them make it look like they’re trying very hard to break through the atmosphere, a primordial being grabbing for mortals like marbles. The wind picks up, and the flicker of pale warmth and the cloud hands are blown swiftly away, hidden by a tumult of grey and violet. It shouldn’t rain for hours yet, it’s not supposed to, but you’re starting to doubt the truth of the weather forecast. The sky is very clearly telling all watchers that a storm is on the way.

And here you are: distractedly doing your best to carefully skirt the edges of dreary, muddied water, hunting for a folktale. There are weak spots throughout the area, and one wrong step will have the ground turning to mush underfoot. Which, while fitting with the tales, is the last thing you’d ever want. Risk of drowning aside, all the local stories claim that it's your soul you really need to worry about, or you'll be trapped for eternity as 'a ghost given solid form'.

In other words, from what you’ve pieced together, that might mean something like a zombie?

Water sloshes, lapping strangely at the grassy shore and pulling you clean away from your thoughts. You know you shouldn't linger with the storm on the way, but something about the water keeps you from getting more than a few paces past. The noise, rising steadily, almost bubbling, draws you closer even as tension weighs down your steps. Whatever might be down there, you doubt it's anything pleasant, and you’ve had stories of zombies running through your head all afternoon. You edge closer anyway.

The shore grows terribly soft underfoot the closer you get, and it looks like something is struggling just under the surface, wriggling, a bit like—the water fountains. It soaks your shoe and the hem of your pant leg, while icy droplets speckle over your shirt and face. For a moment, a breath, your eyes fall closed as you attempt to wipe the water away. Something smooth and cold grabs hold of your ankle, yanking your foot forward so you slam back into the ground, a quick burst of pain flares in the back of your skull. Fingernails dig into your skin. You can’t remember shouting, can’t remember a loud noise, but your ears are ringing, adrenaline rocketing through your veins as the hand—the literal hand—heaves with all it’s might, pulling you towards the water. You scrabble backwards, you kick, trying to get free, but the arm tenses, fingers curling tighter around your ankle, heavier than iron. You haven’t gotten loose, but you’re starting to pull whatever is in the water out as you struggle.

The water burbles and the haze of panic begins to clear. This isn’t a story. Someone has just grabbed hold of you. They’re not trying to pull you in, they just want you to pull them out. Because they’re trapped. You suck down air, scrabbling at the hand wrapped around your ankle, trying to get them to grab hold of your wrist instead. Their skin is strange under your touch, hard and smooth and fragile, like flowers dipped in paraffin.

A head finally crests the water, a choking, wheezing noise filling the air as liquid cascades off of his body. His breath sounds wrong though, and his cheeks are hollowed, hair and skin stained with peat. He releases the death grip he has on your ankle, bony, wet fingers smacking against your arm so you can grab hold and pull. His other hand twists into the scrubby grass, ripping handfuls of it free as he does his best to work with your desperate bid to get him out of the bog. And then a few startling things happen all at once.

Your eyes drop to his throat and the wide, old injury spanning the entirety of his throat, stitched shut with a pale cord. His eyes snap open. An eerie light gleams in his eye sockets and you do shout this time, words tripping over themselves as you give up on holding him to try and yank yourself out of his grasp. Lightning quick flashes of the zombie stories and a variety of undead flicker through your mind. He’s too strong for you, you can't push him off, even with the wasted-looking muscles of his arms. He holds on terribly tight, knees and calves and feet splashing in the water and sliding through the slick scrub grass. You continue to try to get his hands off of you, breath coming far too fast, but he lets go as soon as he’s clear of the water. His hands fall away, clutching at your thigh for balance before he finally removes his hands from you entirely. He drops to the grass, retching, and then grabs at his own throat. The tie keeping his hair back crumbles, falling away like drying clay, and though most of his hair is still slick and dark with peat, it looks like it’s normally a bright coppery red underneath the muck.

He wheezes again, hands hovering over the injury, fingers feather soft over the strangely clean stitches. After a moment, he lifts his chin, spotlight eyes roving over your face with awe.

"..you..you answered?" He asks, voice warped by withered musculature. His stained cheeks stretch, a painfully tight smile exposing teeth that don't look altogether human. They're even, and clean, but they gleam with a deep blue patina, as if they’re actually polished stones. “I—I must conf-fess,” he rasps, hands falling to his knees, nails digging into the tattered trousers barely clinging to his body, “I doubted. I..” He leans forward, gasping once more as he stares at the ground. “He answered,” he whispers, and his eyelashes flutter, the light of his eyes flickering. Despite his apparent frailness, despite his inattention, you can't bring yourself to run away now. You’re caught, the desire for knowledge outweighing the potential danger. “What would you ask of me?” He breathes, and your heart twists painfully in your chest. He sounds wretched, reverent and fearful, both, anxiously waiting for you to strike out.

"What would I ask?" You struggle to murmur, tongue thick and too-dry in your mouth. Slowly, you get up, rubbing awkwardly at your wrist and forearm. His grip had been a shade past 'uncomfortably tight', but you don’t think you’ll get anything more than faint bruising.

"In exchange," the man says, clutching tighter to his knees. He doesn't notice when you flinch, not with his head still bowed.

Your heartbeat nearly drowns out the distant thunder, adrenaline chasing the wariness out of your veins. "For what?" You demand, pleased when his head jerks up. He's acting like you're going to kick him back into the bog with a boot to his chest. "For saving you? Why would I want anything? I was just-" Your mouth snaps shut, brain desperately clamoring for you to acknowledge that there's a mummified man currently speaking to you. He’s talking, not groaning, not calling out for brains or blood or violence. He may as well be straight from the local legends and he’s… Fully conscious of his actions, nothing like the eerie embellishments all the tales carry.

"I was being decent. Helping. I didn't do it so you would owe me." Any further words slip your mind as soon as your eyes catch on the stitches in his neck again. The rest of him is withered and warped by the peat in the bog, permanently stained—but the stitches are still silvery pale. What on earth happened to make him this way?

Hesitant, he raises his head, the inhuman brightness of his eyes more than enough to make you wince. Your gaze darts to the soft glint of metal in his earlobes, trying to keep from squinting.

"For… For saving my village," he finally clarifies. "You accepted my sacrifice and allowed me the chance to speak, but surely I must complete some task to prove my faith? To win a boon and guarantee their survival?"

Thunder rattles your bones and the mummy tenses, looking past you to the sky. Nerves or not, you can’t stay out here in this, not if you want to escape the weather… Or the panic that will spread like wildfire if anyone happens to catch sight of him. You offer him your hand.

"You'll help me?" He asks, hand lifting from his knee, but not yet reaching for yours. Mist dots his cheeks, rain trying desperately to break free of the heavy cloud cover.

"Help? Yes. In the way you’re asking me to?” You can’t stop yourself from cringing, but that doesn’t seem to have deterred the bog mummy still kneeling in front of you. He’s still staring with rapt attention, caught on every word you speak. “I—I don't know if I have any answer you want, but I do know we shouldn’t stay out here in the rain." You take a single step closer, fingers splaying as you reach for him. He slips his hand into yours and the rain falls heavy upon your heads.

————-　🌠　————-

From what you’ve gathered from Hior on the trip back here, he has for all intents and purposes, traveled through time, via his death. You freeze in the doorway of the kitchen, mind whirling as you attempt to puzzle out whether he can eat or drink anything. He hasn’t needed to, not while he’s been in his enchanted… sleep down in the bog. But he’s actually dead, isn’t he? You hadn’t felt a pulse when he’d taken your hand, but you hadn’t been searching for one either, keen as you were on getting him out of the torrential rain and out of sight. He hasn’t asked for any food or drink, but your brain has seized onto hospitality like a lifeline. No matter what age Hior is from, sharing what you have is always appreciated.

Decision made, you fetch the glass, ears straining for any noise, for any hint of where he is in the house. He’s done nothing but stare at modernized gadgetry since you brought him in, taking the towel you’d offered as if he were in a dream, but he’s bound to get curious eventually. You move a little faster, though when you find him back in the living room, sitting straight backed on the edge of the couch, dampened towel around his shoulders, you feel rather silly. He just crawled out of a bog, knowing that he’d given his life for his village. Maybe he’s frightened? This can’t be like any afterlife he’d expected. “Would you like some water?” You ask, still unsure as to whether he can actually drink it or not. He’d been gasping for air when he’d broken free of the bog, but that might only be reflex, seeing as he is very much mummified.

Hior clambers to his feet, lamplight eyes skittering over your face and then down to the floor before he kneels, towel flaring out like a cloak. You pause where you are, fingers tightening around the glass in your hand, but your brain doesn’t catch up to what he’s trying to do until he speaks. “I must thank you for your hospitality. Truly. To be welcomed into the home of a God-”

You nearly spill the water, breath caught fast in your throat as you hurriedly urge him to get back to his feet, fingers brushing over his shoulder. “Ah, no, not—how about some water first?” Hior rises, the fine hairs of his eyebrows catching the light as he furrows them. They’re the same coppery red as the hair on his head and arms, and even on his legs when you take the time to glance down. “Here,” you mutter, slipping the glass into his hand as soon as his fingers uncurl. “If you don’t want it, or, or you can’t, then it’s fine. But, uh, I’m not a deity. Not a God. Just a man.” Like you, weighs down the tip of your tongue, but you clamp your jaws shut. You can’t honestly claim similarity, seeing as you still have blood flowing through your veins and your neck doesn’t have eerily clean stitches from ear to ear.

"A man," he repeats, but he doesn't sound like he believes you, "of course." Hior sniffs at the water, but he must not need it. He cradles the glass against his chest, water untouched and risks another sly glance at your face, waiting, as if he expects you to change your mind and confess to a different identity. Your brain buzzes, skipping over the hint he’s attempting to fish for.

“Those… It looks like that was a bad injury,” you murmur, gesturing to the neat stitches, a permanent, unsettling necklace. It doesn’t really help change the subject.

“Hmm,” he rumbles, reaching up a single hand. For a moment, he marvels at the sight of his own skin, turning his wrist this way and that before he finally ghosts his touch over the stitches. Hior doesn’t shy away from them, or even appear concerned, fingertip dipping between each rib of cord. “I’ve little idea how I came to possess these,” he confesses. “It wasn’t you?” You grimace, and Hior croaks out a laugh when he notices. Warmth blossoms in your chest, the sound of a real, genuine laugh soothing away some of your nerves. “No. I can see that now. And it wasn’t Mother Gree either,” he says softly, eyes lowering. “No one would have taken me from the water. The… the star?”

“Star?” The God you think I am? You want to ask, but the stiffness is easing from his limbs, memory returning, and you don’t want to interrupt. Frankly, you might be a little shell shocked yourself, but something about his question makes your brows furrow.

“It followed me into the water,” Hior adds, and your heart skips a beat, your own memories a cacophony in the back of your head. You’ve read something about that before, you’re certain of it.

“The star followed you?” You ask, clarifying. “Dove after you?”

For the first time, Hior isn’t staring past you or searching your face for any hint of divinity. A wry smile twists his lips, exposing the polished stones serving as his teeth. “From what I recall, yes. Of course, I was dying at the time,” he says quietly, humor in the arch of his eyebrows. “Perhaps I could not comprehend the visage of our Gods? They often take other shapes, so as not to cause alarm. Such as that of a man,” he says. He’s hinting again, gaze heavy on your face, but all you can think about is the phrase: the star followed me into the water, on repeat.

You lick your lips, darting past Hior for the stacks of books you’d left out this morning. “The Diving Stars,” you explain, pushing two volumes to the side and letting them fall to the floor with a clatter. You seize the elderly green book, whirling so you can brandish it in Hior’s direction. The title glitters, faintly golden but worn away by the passing years. “It’s a folktale, a legend, about… About you, I think.”

————-　🌠　————-

Hior never does drink the water. He sets it aside, fingertips lingering along the rim before you settle down on the floor, book laid open across your knees. He joins you, and as respectful as Hior has been up to this point, he sits close against your side, pressed against you from shoulder to hip so he can better see the pages. It’s intimate, and strange, and he’s… He’s not cold, not exactly, but the lack of human warmth is enough to have the fine hairs along your neck prickling with awareness. It only takes a moment before his attention drifts from the book to your face, staring at your mouth as you read the short tale aloud.

The Diving Stars

For the greater good of a war torn village, a sacrifice was made. A favored son was chosen, one beloved by the village, and kind to all he knew. He was strong, and clever, and though he was leaving behind his family, he knew he must act for the well being of all. When it came time for his sacrifice, he smiled and walked willingly to his ending, hoping that the Gods would accept his service and defend the village from invaders.

A God took notice.

You do your best not to lift your eyes from the text, heat spreading over the back of your neck when you realize how hard Hior is staring at you. You might keep trying to ignore his assumptions, but Hior isn’t going to let you forget about them completely. He still fully believes that you’re the deity from his tale.

Moved by his plight and coveting the favored son’s courage for his own hall, the God left his domain. He dove from the sky as a star, following the favored son into the depths and setting the entire blog ablaze with his magic. When the light faded, when the villagers uncovered their eyes, two men stood by the side of the water, the light of the stars in their eyes. One was the favored son, strange and withered, having sacrificed his vitality to the Gods. The other was the God who had accepted his bargain, and behind them, marching up out of the water, was a brigade of the village ancestors, led back from the underworld to help defend the home of their children.

When the battle was won, and the ancestors had marched back into the water, the favored son wished his people farewell. Lit up from within, the favored son and the God slipped back into the depths, and then two brilliant lights fountained up out of the water, diving back into the sky as stars.

When you lift your gaze away from the book, Hior’s eyes are still on you. They’ve grown even brighter than before, the shine of them sharp enough to make you wince. His hands, resting gently on his knees, are steadily curling into fists, and he’s smiling. Small and sweet and absolutely enchanted. “I knew it,” he whispers, voice tight and low, and then Hior yanks you by the neck of your shirt halfway into his lap, knocking the book completely out of your hands. He kisses you, in want or in gratitude, you’re not sure, the taste of rainwater and the chill of stone heavy on his lips. It’s… It’s not unpleasant at all, the kiss. His lips are smooth, and cool, and tingling, like the sharpness of static in the air, seeping through your skin and racing through your veins. When Hior finally allows you to wrench yourself away, lungs heaving as you attempt to remember how to breathe, all you can think about is the way he’s smiling, arousal pooling heavily in every limb.

“No matter what you might believe,” you mutter, trying to keep your thoughts in order, “I’m not a God. Not of any sort, Hior. I swear I’m not lying.” You lick your lips, the taste of rainwater still lingering on your skin. “Though, even if I don’t know how to help you yet?” You take his hand off of your arm, lacing your fingers with his. “We’re bound to find out together.”

————-　🌠　————-

#exophilia #mummy boyfriend #bog mummy boyfriend #undead x male reader #male mummy x male reader #d.darling writes #d.darling commissions

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cryptiql · 3 years ago

Text

cherry starbursts

pairing: bakugou/reader (male reader in mind but is gender neutral)

warnings: none, i think?? lots of cussing though, courtesy of lord explosion murder

words: 3.6k

a/n: yuzuya's audios giving me so much brainrot...gonna be thinking about this all week. also the way this started out as god tier writing but gradually turned into shit at the end 🏃 nonetheless, i hope i did this gremlin man justice </3

a contemplative hum tickles your throat as you observe the paragraph laid out before you, the pads of your fingers tingling as you trail them across the pages. on the occasions where you've found your nose nestled deep within them, a muted scent of pears and sawdust would invade your senses, and the urge to rest your head in the plains of your chemistry textbook would become overwhelming. however, the threat of being cuffed over the head by a rolled up magazine makes you think twice about slacking off, so you begrudgingly slump back into your seat with a resigned huff. the clock in your dorm is no doubt ticking away like always; the second hand rounding at great speeds while the minute and hour hands crawl by at a sluggish pace; but you aren't there to hear it.

instead, you reside in bakugou's room, basking in the unencumbered atmosphere created solely by his diligent efforts to keep his space clean and organized. it's just the way he is, you have to remind yourself. not because you stubbed your toe on his dumbbells last week and he felt sufficiently guilty as to make sure nothing was in your path the next time you visited. that would be silly. all that considered, bakugou's room isn't much different from your own—save for the few comfort objects brought from home that give off a hospitable air—but the lack of stimulus it holds is apparent. anything that could disturb your tranquil study date has either been stored away or placed beyond your reach.

damn him, the bastard! he's completely oblivious, you silently muse, bracing your elbows on the desk to plant your face in the palms of your hands. you chastise yourself at the same moment for forgetting your headphones, but in your defense, bakugou screaming for you to hurry up had prompted a hasty departure. if he had the patience to wait two more minutes. . .

rather than finishing the thought, you pull the textbook closer, hoping that somehow the enlarged print will stick to your brain like a temporary tattoo. you only need this information long enough to pass the exam, but once it's over, you swear you'll never mention anything chemistry related unless it's the bond between you and your neighbor. the idle scratching of pencil led against paper erupts from his side of the room, lessening the static in your head by a fraction, but it doesn't last. he mutters something unintelligible under his breath as you spin in your chair to look at him in desperation.

he remains ignorant for the next minute or so, only glancing up at you briefly before returning to his notes. your nostrils flare as you reach down to untangle your laces and pull off your shoe. you chickened out last time this happened, but being ignored has successfully fed the flames of your frustration, and you simply will not stand for it any longer. you blame your sleep-addled mentality for the lack of better aim, but it stokes your pride when bakugou flinches as your shoe hurdles past his shoulder.

"the hell was that for, dumbass!?" he growls, his eyes narrowing into slits. you respond with a high pitched whine; one that would be considered overexaggerated in his opinion, but in yours, was perfectly reasonable when being held against your will to study a subject that has no business being this tedious. "sukiii, i'm booored."

the blonde makes a 'tch' sound, positioning his arm in a warning manner before throwing his pencil at you, which you manage to catch easily. you revel in the deflated expression he wears, twirling the pencil between your fingers and kicking a leg over one arm of the chair. all this, while never breaking eye contact, was sure to break through to him. you're hopeful, what with the way katsuki's gaze—gradually failing to hide his infatuation—travels over your build from head to toe. whether because you giggle at his reaction or decide to kick your feet like a giddy child, he snaps out of his trance with an all too familiar scowl and shuts his own textbook with unnecessary force. his demanding stare is fixated on you as he tosses it haphazardly to the edge of the bed.

"give me back my pencil, idiot." he completely ignores your previous statement and jumps straight into business, as always. "give me back my shoe first, hot stuff." you challenge, smirking in a way that you very well know gets him hot under the collar. the teasing endearment will either put the odds in your favor; earning you your shoe as desired, and perhaps the lovely little blush that often dusts his face whenever you flirt with him; or seal your fate in hell where the everlasting flames may burn similarly, if not just as hotter than bakugou's explosions. it has taken years of practice to uphold your smug attitude in the face of his unyielding rage; nose wrinkled and canines grinding. even now, he is the image of perfection—a powerful god emblazoned in brimstone and baneful inferno—and you, a mere lover of art. after a moment, bakugou's resolve seems to falter. his piecing glare relents only slightly to give way for a pensive expression as he sighs, gently rubbing along the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. he throws you your shoe while standing from the bed, and as you slip it on, he shuffles over to his clothes drawer to pull out his own pair of sneakers. this prompts you to raise a brow inquisitively, but your silent question is left unanswered up until bakugou claps a hand on your shoulder and grumbles.

"c'mon, i'm fucking starving. there's a seven eleven nearby that's got spicy ramen."

and just like that, all thoughts pertaining to the test have been pulverized to dust by katsuki's unrelenting fists. the promise of food after hours of relentless mental abuse has you brushing off the sudden change of inclination in seconds, meanwhile the hothead to your right mulls over it during your trek through the empty hallways, stuffing his arms into the holes of his jacket. he had been able to overlook your constant fidgeting and intermittent noises of vexation, but too soon it became obvious that you weren't getting anywhere with the session. he would have simply offered to help if not for his own inability to concentrate, which had made itself known within the last half hour when he caught himself staring at you between taking notes. so what if he found your pouting cute? just maybe, he had started to fall in love with the way your brows furrowed at the instance of a misunderstood question; the absentminded tugging of your earlobe; the way your eyes looked without seeing, as if the smallest things held the greatest importance. sure, the tapping of your nails against a desk was a bit much, but he could always put a stop to your fretting by lacing your fingers together and kissing the back of your hand. just maybe, your bashful reactions made him want to hold you closer; to see you lounging across his lap—a throne befitting for a king—with your rose hued cheeks nestled in the crook of his neck.

not that you needed to know any of that. no fucking way would he endow another reason for you to tease him when the list was already so long.

curfew isn't for another hour, but bakugou would rather not waste time dawdling, so he uses this as reasoning for hooking your arm with his and practically hauling you out the exit. he mutters something about you being "too fucking slow" and "leaving you behind if you don't keep up", but the fact that he's dragging you along at all shows that he would have no problem resorting to desperate matters. the right amount of groveling and or compromising might mean a piggyback ride to the store, but regardless of how tempting the idea is, you decide not to further burden your friend with carrying you.

the towering shape of heights alliance becomes more and more like a speck of dust as your journey continues, the weight of your thoughts heavy on your already weary mind. you eye katsuki's side profile, noting the distinct lack of malice upon his handsome features, and smile softly to yourself. friend. it was the first word that occurred to you, albeit the least desirable and in no way comparable to the term that caused your heart to flutter within the confinements of your ribcage.

you aren't together. you don't know if you'll ever be, but when the the milieu; brimming with chaotic screams, booming laughter and disorderly merriment belonging to that of your closest friends; is whisked from the narrative, katsuki looks at you differently. whatever fragments of disdain and spite tend to crumble within the first few seconds and are replaced by an emotion that was unheard of ever having manifested in the depths of his vermillion hues. it holds a semblance to adoration, perhaps even respect, and for as long as you can recall, that is all you've wanted to see from him: to be regarded like no other.

sure, it's not like how you dreamed—he isn't very affectionate in public, though you doubt he would be even if you were together, and it always stings when he shrugs your affections off with a deriding comment—but that's just it. it's not a dream. after every scornful remark; after the day has passed and the dwindling moon takes its place in the evening sky, breaking through the curtains of his dorm; he'll kiss your hand, your blooming cheeks, your lips, all to atone for it. where no one else can see, he treats you like a divine being, and part of you wishes to think that it's because he's selfish. a bit of possessiveness has lead to many nights of a shared bed, ruffled sheets and smothering cuddles, but who are you to complain? everything he gives you is more real than any well-constructed reverie.

he may not be yours, and you may not be his, but no one else will suffice for either of you, and that is the unspoken truth.

the minimal bitterness in the autumn breeze makes for a refreshing atmosphere with the only discontent being the hunger that claws at your stomach. bakugou has never been merciful towards anyone, let alone the self-acclaimed nuisance who interrupts his studying with half-baked plans of adventure, but you're ever so grateful for the rare times where he is.

you know you won't have to wait long now that the smell of milk bread and takoyaki trickles into the air, much like the faint pitter patter of raindrops on the concrete. the shower is horribly ill-timed, but you hardly mind, especially when the droplets cling to bakugou's eyelashes like crystalline gemstones; glimmering faintly with every blink as they catch the suns rays. it settles below the horizon, only a sliver of golden yellow to be seen dancing in the tree boughs above, and the fuck if the way it illuminates your not-boyfriend's visage isn't absolutely breathtaking. the glimpse of honeyed skin and kissable lips—pulled into a pensive pout—draws you in deeper, and deeper, and oh god i've been caught—

"you got a staring problem, dumbass?" he grumbles, a roseal color dusting his ears that he swears is from the cold.

even his offensive nicknames are laced with an abnormal tenderness, and knowing that you're the only one with the privilege to hear it causes your chest to swell with delight. you nibble your bottom lip, hoping that it will somehow hide the fleet of giggles bubbling in your throat, but it does no such thing. "yeah, it's weird. whenever i see something beautiful, i just feel compelled to stare at it."

you don't need to look at him to know you've struck a nerve, but you do anyways, and his face grows redder under the intensity of your teasing leer. he sputters, curses falling from past his lips like a waterfall, and rips his arm from your grasp to cradle it as if you've burned him. any sane person would have backed down the second mini explosions began flaring up from his palms, however, you are perhaps the exact opposite, as to be expected when surrounding yourself with the infamous bakusquad, who (excluding bakugou) procured one braincell to share amongst themselves. years of having to put up with and, by extension, learn how to effectively handle bakugou's fits have proven to be time well spent.

you remain none the wiser to the concerned stares of others as he spouts a line of insults; incomprehensible from behind his curled fist pressed tightly to his mouth.

"you-you can't just say that kinda shit out loud, dumbass!" and although he may seem mad, he's already dragging you down the street. you test your luck by huddling closer and resting your chin on his shoulder, your steady pace never faltering.

"is the katsuki bakugou stumbling over his words from a little compliment?" it almost feels like you've won, but then the blonde proceeds to cover your face with his still damp hand. the little shit had timed it perfectly so that your open mouth would taste the saltiness of his sweat—quite the contrary to its sugary caramel aroma—and if you weren't so preoccupied by the resonance of his cackling laugh, you might have spent the rest of the trip gagging and complaining about the whole ordeal. he hardly seems bothered, wiping your saliva on his trousers and going forth with that customary lumbering strut, which always has you torn between fawning, chortling or questioning if he has fucking weights down his pants.

nonetheless, you can't help but murmur how cute he looks as you swing your free arm in tune with your steps.

by the time you've arrived at the shop, the sun has long since disappeared; welcoming hues of purple, navy blue and hints of orange to dapple the heavens, along with the foretelling of stars. you can't begin to describe how lucky you are to be living in a city with such beautiful scenery, even when the thin clouds of smog from factories often hinder your view of it. the fluorescent lights from the 'open' sign flash sporadically, casting a cobalt glow to dance across your dazed expression. katsuki watches with intent, chuckling at how easily distracted you can get as he tugs you inside by the cloth of your shirt.

the person behind the cash register spares a customary greeting before returning to their magazine, and bakugou makes a beeline for the intended isle, something akin to excitement radiating from him. he wears it much differently, and it resembles is go-to callous guise in almost every way, but you're able to detect the slight shift in demeanor as if its the easiest thing in the world. you hardly register that he's removed himself from you until the distance grows too large to ignore, and you shuffle over to the place beside him with a newfound adrenaline. the crisp air of the corner store heightens your senses as you tap your foot to the pop song playing overhead.

the only other sound is of katsuki examining the ramen and deciding what level of spice he should get, encouraging you to ponder what sort of hellish nightmare he has planned for the rest of the group. it was just last week when he dared kaminari to try some of the noodles, and the poor boy had spent ten minutes weeping in snot-nosed agony that you would have to be insane to put something that hot in your mouth. bakugou had laughed at his misery and carried on eating with vigor, mocking the others for their weak taste buds.

after a beat of silence, you decide to test your luck again by poking is shoulder, as well as batting your eyelashes at him and cocking your head to the side.

"can we get some candy?"

bakugou waves his hand dismissively, which is all the conformation you need before rounding the corner to peruse the variety of sweets on display. you immediately spot the marked parcels of sour gumdrops and assorted licorice and giggle to yourself as you pick them out, unaware of the gentle smile the blonde wears in regards to your child-like glee.

"yeah, just don't eat it all in one sitting. you go through that shit way too fast—it's unhealthy."

you won't bother commenting on his strict, motherly advisement, because you know it's in his best interest. he's grumbled about "stuffing your body with all that garbage" on numerous occasions, and while the hypocrisy might have annoyed you at one point ("and i assume gouging yourself on spicy ramen is completely different?") you realized rationing your candy would benefit both your health and your wallet. you nod, despite knowing he can't see, and idly feel for your back pocket, wondering just how much katsuki plans to stock up. money isn't exactly an issue, so you suppose it doesn't matter, but the amount of packets he normally brings back is downright criminal.

"don't be shy," he eventually says, "i'm buying. you're responsible enough not to buy out the whole store, right?"

your confusion overwhelms the urge to roll your eyes at his sarcasm, but there also lies a hint of elation that he would offer to buy.

"i figured i'd be paying as compensation for messing with you." you stand on the tips of your toes to poke your head over the isle, feeling very tempted to ruffle his hair whilst he gathers the packages of ramen into his basket.

"nah, you can pay me back in some other way." his eyes flick upwards to meet your devilish smirk, and he turns away with an affronted noise, blood rushing to his cheeks.

"oh? i can't wait to see what you have in mind~."

and there go the sparks. they last but a few moments before katsuki composes himself, presumably because he realizes making a scene won't help the situation, but he still throws a glare at you from a distance as he beckons you closer. it seems like he's gotten all he needs, so you hastily grab whatever sweets are left on your mental list and rush back to the counter. a comfortable silence sits between you both as your items are checked out, and in that time, you observe the significant difference between pre-late-night-shopping-run bakugou and food-deprived-study-date bakugou. his shoulders are more relaxed, as is his facial appearance, and you'll be damned if you ever forget the way he smiles when he catches you looking from his peripheral vision.

it's soft and unguarded and leaves you struggling for breath as he waits for the cashier to turn away, then promptly laces your fingers together. what? katsuki takes the bag and pulls you effortlessly; like a ragdoll; a mere toy at his disposal; out into the brisk evening. his thumb brushes the back of your hand, making you jump in surprise at the suddenness of it, and he titters freely. what? the streetlamps glint brightly, flickering at random intervals as you travel onward at a leisurely pace. the roads closest to U.A. aren't as packed as the ones deeper into the city, and thus you are the only two souls to be found, save for the few cars that speed by under the faint luminescence of nearing traffic lights. katsuki squeezes your palm, then slithers his hand out of your hold to replace it at your waist, methodically caressing the skin there in a way that has your knees buckling. you sputter witlessly, attempting to catch the thoughts that flee from your mind like birds to the wind. the blonde is nothing less than ecstatic to be the reason for your flustered state, and he takes full advantage of it by leaning in and hovering his mouth just inches from your own.

"i'll take my payment now." and oh lord, you think. he doesn't have to ask me twice. your lips collide with his, molding together like melted toffee; just as sweet and addictive. you've shared kisses before; ones that left you bruised and scrambling for a coverup the next day; ones that felt like fire but were tinged with honey that soothed your throat; fleeting ones that were never enough. you were sure that your need for affection would never truly be satiated unless it was from the boy you held most dear, and with the moon as your sole witness, katsuki was happy to oblige.

"starbursts. . ." he huffs after pulling away, massaging your hip to subdue your dissatisfied hum. "you taste like cherry starbursts."

he doesn't seem to mind by the way he leans in for another kiss, and another, and another, until you're a jittery mess in his arms. you press against his chest, a wistful sigh escaping you when you part once more.

"not that i'm complaining, but where's this coming from? you're usually not so touchy." the last bit of your utterance trails off as bakugou presses his lips to your forehead and keeps them there. moments pass, and when he finally pulls away, its to hide his blush by walking ahead of you. "i should be able to kiss my partner whenever i please, shouldn't i?" he doesn't even give you a chance to catch up, because his words have you rooted to the spot. what urges your feet to move is the haughty smirk he tosses over his shoulder, and even then, the race has only begun; your demands for him to stop echoing down the street as you chase him.

cheeky bastard.

#💥.katsuki #bakugou x male reader #katsuki bakugou x male reader #bakugou x gn!reader #male reader insert #mha x male reader #gn reader #mha x gn!reader #boku no hero x reader #bakugou x you

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wasabito · 4 years ago

Text

thank you to @sparkexplosive and @vs-redemption for beta reading it for me! merry christmas & happy holidays everyone ♥️

➽ synopsis: being a member of the royal guard is a grueling and thankless job, so you decide to remind katsuki a little of what it’s like to be young again—what better way to do that than with some healthy competition.

➽ word count: 1.7k

➽ tags: fluff, budding romance, royalty au, childhood friends

➽ author’s note: i had a ton of fun participating in my first ever secret santa!! this is my gift-fic to the lovely @katsushimaa hope you enjoy, yssa!

"So, this is where the hell you've been hiding?"

His voice tore through the midday stillness like a blade, equal parts raspy and gruff. He sounded irritated and mildly fatigued. Not that Katsuki Bakugou would ever admit to being anything less than a hundred and ten percent. He climbed off his steed, heavy boots crunching under the weight of his feet, and secured his horse against the stump you were leaning on.

You flipped the page of your book, not sparing the man even a cursory glance. You would prefer to keep your attention occupied by fictitious worlds, warriors, and battles fought in the name of love and justice.

It was much easier to allow yourself to become the bearer of fictional hardships, because at least they could be solved through a well-constructed plot with each turn of a page, as opposed to the realities of your actual life, a slow spiraling disaster in comparison.

Bakugou stood in front of you, vein ticking on his throat with every clench of his jaw. His arms were crossed tight over his chest, red gaze pinned on your hunched form. He wasn't at all the kind of person anyone could easily ignore. His very presence demanded attention and drew eyes like a magnet.

Case in point, no matter how much you tried to ignore him, you simply couldn’t.

"Please tell me you aren't going to stand there the entire time. Take a hint will you." You went to turn another page, but Bakugou reached over and snatched the book from your hands with deft fingers and speed you couldn't hope to match.

"Give. It. Back."

"Nah, I don't think I will just yet." He sneered, thumbing through the pages. "I was told to bring your dumbass back to the estate, so that's exactly what the hell I'm 'bout to do."

You blew a puff of air from your lips, eyes blazing with a kind of defiance that only burned harder the more you glared at him. "Then I guess you'll just have to drag me back kicking and screaming."

Bakugou only smirked, teeth spread in a feral grin that sent a chill down your spine.

That had always been his intention.

Almost an hour later, you stood before your parents, clothes dusty, creased, and smudged from having been manhandled like a sack of flour before promptly dumped in front of your waiting audience.

A frown marred your delicate features as they began their lecture.

Your mind drifted elsewhere the more they reminded you of your lineage and that you were royalty and how it was imperative you behave as such. You’d heard it all before, known this for as long as you could remember. As the King and Queen of your home country, your parents never failed to emphasize the importance of keeping your every move in check because of the reputation you had to uphold.

Katsuki stood somewhere behind you, and although he stayed mostly silent, you could almost hear him grinding away at his molars. The King and Queen were taking turns subtly digging into him as well, implying that his incompetence was a stain upon the royal guard perfect record of achievements. If he couldn't keep you in line, what was the point of holding rank?

They annoyed him way more than they did you, but he dare not voice it, not if he wanted to keep his head attached to his shoulders. Far be it from him to send himself to the guillotine

You both were in for a long night.

“Honestly, this kind of behavior is unbecoming of someone of your status. What will our countrymen think if they see you roaming about unattended like a vagabond?” Your father stroked his beard as if waiting for a response. But everyone in the room knew he really just liked to hear himself talk.

He was no better than a machiavellian swindler in expensive robes. A puppet if you would.

The real leader of the land was your mother. After all, she had only married into the family, having been the daughter of a mere advisor with no royal blood. She spoke little, but her glare was more than enough to convey just what she was thinking.

By the end of the lecture, you felt like all of your energy had been sapped from you, but thankfully your parents left you to retreat into your bedroom for the remainder of the day. Bakugou escorted you, following close behind.

“You’re gonna do it again, aren’t ya?”

You paused, foot nearly catching against the carpeted floors of your bedroom. Fiddling with a piece of your hair, you shrugged. “...maybe.”

“You’re a huge idiot.” Bakugou shook his head with a low laugh.

A tiny smidgen of a grin danced on your lips as you considered him. He was your childhood friend. No one knew you better than he did. And he was also the guard most assigned to watch over you and keep you safe from harm.

Despite that, you’d come to notice how much he’d changed. He wasn’t the same Katsuki you grew up knowing and you missed him dearly. Occasions like this, where a part of his guard was let down, were becoming few and far between. There had to be something you could do.

“Let’s make a wager. If you can manage to find me, I’ll do one thing at your command.”

“Challenge accepted.” He reached into the folds of his uniform, pulled out your little novel, and slapped it right into your open palm. "No matter where you run off to, I'll find ya. Trust me on that, princess."

His eyes were like candles in the night, ignited by a spark of passion. Not a single lie could be detected.

"I won't make it easy on you, Katsuki, just so you know."

"Heh, you better not." He sniffed, tucking his hands into his uniform pockets. And with a final half-wave, he was gone.

In and around the capital city, winter had completely lost it's bite. The weather was tepid, swinging a mild breeze that coasted through the countryside. It was the sort of winter where one felt as if woolen clothing were worn more for comfort than necessity. In what should have been the chilliest part of the year, Bakugou found himself traversing one of the many beaches that hedged the southern peninsula.

After a full week following the challenge issued in your bedroom, Bakugou realized you were entirely too good at evading him or any of the other guards at the kingdom’s disposal, for that matter.

Day in and day out, he spent his shifts searching tirelessly for you, just to stumble upon you in the most random of places and only when you had wanted him to find you. The running score was six to five in your favor, but he was determined not to lose to you again.

And there you were, standing at the very edge of the shore, as if a mere thought had manifested you right before his very eyes. Your loose billowing dress of soft satin waved to him like a white flag of surrender in the air. He'd finally found you.

"Not gonna run off this time?"

"Nope! You won this round." Your cheeks creased in a smile.

Given the boots he'd worn, it was no surprise that his feet kept sinking into the sand. You said nothing as he toed off his shoes and socks, bare feet settling into the depths of warm, grainy sand.

He couldn’t help but feel more relaxed. Over the past few months, he’d found himself losing sight of his goals, caught in the dredges of the mundane and routine.

The cool waters lapped at both his and your feet, fizzing and bubbling, leaving behind traces of salt. You went further into the water’s touch, your back to him as the tides licked at the your calves. Even he had to admit, the view was a beautiful one, possibly even more so with you against the backdrop.

“I’m glad you found me,” you called over the cry of seagulls. “For a second, I was worried you’d lose this round.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Tch, as if I’d ever lose to you, princess.”

“Naturally.” You laughed.

“What the hell are we doing out here anyway?”

He knelt to roll up his pants, a mere moment away from following after you like always.

“I... really just wanted to show you the view. Do you remember when we used to come down here as kids? Remember how we used to dare each other to see who could go the farthest into the ocean?”

Of course he remembered. Those were some of his most cherished memories of his time spent with you before duty to the kingdom took precedent.

You reached a hand out to him, an open invitation. “I just thought you needed a little reminder of what that was like.”

For some reason, Katsuki was determined not to meet your gaze, scowling at some point on the horizon, until you came over and nudged him with your elbow. “It wouldn’t kill you to admit that I’m right.”

With a sigh, he reached over and tugged you into a hug. You snuggled close to his chest, gripping the back on his uniform. It may have been your imagination but you could’ve sworn you felt the soft press of lips against your temple.

“Thanks... you know... for everything.”

Beaming, you leaned back to get the full view of his heated cheeks.

“Of course, of course.”

There was something earnest in his eyes that told you no matter how far you went, or however far you traveled, he’d always be a step behind you. It sent your heart hammering in your ribcage. You were suddenly all too aware of the way he held you secure against him like he would never let go.

“What are you thinking, princess?”

You blinked owlishly, taken over by your feelings and mumbling a hushed. “Oh, nothing.” The two of you were just a royal and a guard, bound to one another by duty.

If there could be anything more than that...well, only time would tell.

#pocuties secret santa #mha x reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugou fluff

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wizkiddx · 4 years ago

Text

worst case scenario part 5

finally!! so sorry its been an age to anyone still here but lives been interesting atm so.... also this really feels a bit rambley and the ending is deff underdeveloped but I just kind of wanted this done tbh x

[previous part] [part 1]

warnings: hospitals - ICU, ventilation that sort of stuff, just a lot of ANGST post a difficult birth - please don't read if this could be upsetting for you, and my inbox is always open if u wanna chat :)

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

In a complete 360 degree flip from earlier that day, after leaving the hospital Tom had become obsessively attached to Aurora. They’d got back to his parents place in Tom’s car; Aurora in the carseat Y/n and Tom had ready in their car door for her arrival. Clearly his parents had already pre-warned his brothers, who had thankfully already gone over to Tom and Y/n’s - collecting the Moses basket amongst other items Harry had been listed off from his mother.

Apart from explaining a little behind her name to his parents on the journey back, Tom had spoken very little, choosing to keep himself to himself - physically stationing himself beside the Moses basket the whole time. Of course, there had been a bit of light conversation and almost procedural passing round of Aurora between all her uncles and grandparents, which Tom had kept a wether eye on - but ultimately not engaged.

He also knew that physically his body was failing him. Although eating a little of the lasagne Sam had made for everyone, he could only stomach a minuscule amount, which did little to boost his energy levels. It felt as though sleeping was the enemy, because he was neither ready to leap into the car if the phone went; or to hear the smallest sound from the wicker basket, suggesting something was wrong. So as much as he tried to fight it, before even nine o’clock he began to dose off on the familiar couch of his parents sitting room - occasionally jerking himself awake before loosing the fight once again.

Nikki had tried to gently push him to take a break in the spare bedroom, which had been Tom’s before he’d moved out, but was unsuccessful - every time he retaliated with a stern shake of his head, while checking his phone just in case he’d missed a notification. Eventually Nikki relented, later in the evening both her and Dom retiring to bed; once Sam had agreed to stick around downstairs till a bit later - as a chef he worked till late in the nights, so even on his days off like today, his sleep schedule was just a little fucked.

Left alone with his new little niece and now pretty firmly asleep brother, Sam draped a blanket over the latter just in time for Aurora to start fussing in the need of a bottle. His mum had explained how to do everything, how to mix the formula and heat it up, so after scooping up the little wriggling girl in the hope his brother wouldn’t get disturbed, Sam dealt with her. To be honest no matter how clueless and useless he felt, Aurora was just so cute - if a little wrinkly and alien looking, but in a good way. This was the first baby any of them had had, so the first time Sam experienced this instant connection and love for the little being that was his niece or nephew. It was terrifying, lifting the bottle against her lips for the first time, but then it just sort of seemed to work. She was incredibly smart for less than 24 hours old, instantly latching on, like she had done for Haz at the hospital.

That gave Sam a little confidence in his ability as an uncle, giving himself a satisfied nod while swaying from the kitchen to move back into the living room. It was just a preference to be within reach of Tom… just in case. His poor brother still hadn’t moved, slumped against the corner of the sofa, leaning toward the now empty Moses basket. Normally, Sam seeing his supposed heart throb of a brother looking as rough as he did now - double chin, mouth hanging slightly open, deep sunken eyes - he would’ve taken a photo to blackmail him with. Now though, it was just desperately sad, seeing his brother like this, hand still clutching his phone tightly above the blanket.

Rather hoping the calm would last for a while, Sam successfully finished off feeding Aurora; winded and then put her down to sleep again just in time. Because, perhaps expectedly, Tom’s phone began to blare off the default iPhone ringtone making Tom jump and throw the device across the room as he awoke with a start. Sam ran to grab it off the floor, mainly with the hope of turning it off before Aurora was awoken too - knowing that it was best tonight to tackle one thing at a time.

And so he immediately swiped to answer the call, not even registering who the call was from, much rather just wanting the noise to stop.

“Hello?”

“Sam? It’s Harrison” Tom had jumped up from his seat hovering beside Sam with petrified look. It took barely seconds for Tom to snatch the phone back, launching questions down the receiver.

“Slow down would you? Y/n is fine I was just phoning to check in.”

“Oh er yeh… um sorry I just… just thought…”

“It’s the other way mate. Nurse says she’s starting to get there cos first she moved her arm a bit when we pinched her shoulder and then I just called because she started to like gag and now the ventilator thing is gone.”

“W-what?”

“I think she’s breathing by herself? Like she’s got an oxygen mask instead of the tubes down her throat.” Clearly Harrison was not, by any means, a medical expert.

“They said she would have the ventilator for a few days at least.”

“I guess Y/n got bored? To be fair she couldn’t ever sit still.”

“I’m coming to you.”

“Tom it’s nearly midnight, I was supposed to be kicked out at 10. Just come back in the morning, they won’t let you in I’m pretty certain.”

“What if she wakes up!”

“Then they’ll call you! She’s getting better Tom you should be try and relax for like a second.”

“FUCK OFF HAZ! If she wakes up all alone and terrified then-“

“I’m not going to having a screaming match on the phone with you. I think we both know you wanting to come is more for you than for Y/n, because Y/n would want you to be looking after Aurora.”

Again guilt tripping using the newborn. Harsh but effective. Stopping Tom’s anger dead in it’s tracks.

“Look I can put the nurse on for her to tell you they won’t let you in and they’ll call if anything happens - but you already know that.”

“Yeh sorry fine … I know don’t bother.”

“Okay… I’m was gonna head back to my place and I know you’ve probably got your mum begging to fuss over Aurora but if-“

“Can you come?”

“Didn’t need to ask mate.”

And that’s how the night went. Until Harrison arrived at the Holland family home, Tom had spent the time pacing back and forth, blatantly ignoring the pleas of Sam just to sit down. Once he arrived though, going through all the updates in a lot more detail Tom seemed, for the first time, optimistic. By no means could you call him relaxed or happy - but compared to the rollercoaster that had been the last 24 hours, Harrison thought that was more than enough. Aurora had started fussing again at 1 but by the time it had turned into a full blown scream at Tom, Sam already had the bottle ready. It took a little bit of encouragement and promise that Tom would be able to feed her but actually, she instantly latched on, settled in her Dad’s hold while guzzling down the contents of the bottle.

After a bit of winding she ended up falling asleep on her dads chest, only when he felt himself start to flag did Tom place her back in the basket. Harrison and him ended up crashing on the sofas, Sam retiring to his own room. Phone still tightly clutched in Tom’s grip.

////////////////////

The first thing Y/n became properly aware of was this intense heaviness all over her body. It felt as though her limbs were all composed completely of lead, meaning as much as she was just craving rolling over, it was as though her own body was holding her down. A very alien feeling that unsettled her slightly, trying to shake of the misty feeling in her head to work it all out. It took a while to drag herself out of the depths of sleep, to the point where background noise slowly faded in - an alien beeping as well as distant shuffling making her heart thump with unease. Finally, perhaps most distressingly , her eyes felt glued shut. Not because they were heavy, in the way someone extremely sleep deprived cant keep their eyes open; rather stiff like they hadn’t been used in so long they’d rusted over or something.

The feeling was quite horrific and isolating- as though she were locked into her body without an escape in sight. Whilst trying to calm her racing thoughts, Y/n chose to focus completely on the one thing she could do. She could listen. She listened to the beeps, focusing on the type of sound, the way it chimed so regularly; and it’s form. It was familiar, for that she was sure but for now at least she couldn’t place it.

It felt like an investigation, trying with all her might to try and workout what the fuck was going on. To put it mildly.

The most useful clue though, a breakthrough if you will, is when a voice sounded - clear and familiar.

“Excuse me nurse?” It was Nikki. For sure. It was a clue, but didnt seem to make a hell of a lot of sense. Y/n was so focused on why the hell Nikki was apparently watching her sleep unconscious, she completely missed the reference to the nurse. As in hospital. As in Y/n was in hospital. “… I’m just going to swap out for my sons friend.”

“Harrison?” That voice seemed new and unfamiliar.

“Yes, he won’t be a second I’m sure.”

What was Harrison doing here too?

It was all very confusing and hurt Y/n’s brain to try and unpick. Gradually then, everything sort of melted away, diving back into the darkness.

The next time Y/n woke up things were different. This time she woke up like she would at any time of day. She woke up and her eyes followed suit. Not particularly easily, since as soon as they cracked open she was almost blinded by brilliant white lights, it taking a build up of willpower before she tried it again - bracing for the pain.

By now she knew something was wrong. She remembered all these patchy and hazy periods. All full of confusion and disorientation but with different voices keeping her at least semi calm. Familiar voices, all too often laced with such emotion. Especially Tom’s. She couldn’t remember what he had said, nor had she probably been able to understand it at the time - what stuck was the tone. The sadness, the hopelessness , the emptiness.

It was scary. But it made her want to help. Made her want to open her eyes.

After wincing at the dazzling white surroundings, Y/n blinked her eyes quickly, in an attempt to get them to adjust quicker. She saw an unfamiliar ceiling, one that was tiled in a similar way to her old school canteen. There was a weird pressure round her mouth, eyes quickly darting down to see edges of a clear mask pressed up against the bridge of her nose. That wasn’t it though, the further she looked the more her eyes panned down this pale blue blanket, following the outline of her legs to the bottom raised edge of the bed. The hospital bed.

Her hospital bed.

As much as she wanted to jump up in panic; physically right now that was an impossibility. So instead, Y/n focused on trying to gleam as much information from the situation. It took a hell of a lot of effort, her muscles literally stiff and ridgid with disuse but with a small groan her neck eventually agreed to follow orders. Just a small tilt to the left and suddenly Y/n felt so much more less panicked. Everything was that bit less scary because there was Tom.

Admittedly he didn’t look amazing, or even not bad. Tom was sat with his back pressed against the side of chair, so his body faced her. Had he not looked so ruined, Y/n would’ve laughed at the side of his face squashed into the back of the seat. But he did look horrific, for lack of a better word. His brown eyes were locked shut, but also looked puffy and red, while dark at the same time - as though he’d been attempting to gouge his own eyes out prior. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks, hence why he had appeared to have collapsed in the arm chair. At least though , he wasn’t in a hospital bed himself.

That was Y/n’s pleasure.

Her next job was to get her neck muscles to pull her head to the other side. It was a slow wincing gesture, yet she was so aware of another presence that needed to be addressed too. But actually it was 3 people.

Right at the back, a nurse sat on a little spinny chair, scribbling something down in a file of papers but to be quite honest that wasn’t were Y/n’s focus zeroed in on. Instead on Harrison who was sat in chair mirroring Tom, except instead of being passed out asleep he was cradling a baby. Her baby.

Y/n literally felt her heart in her throat at that point, eye widening almost comically. That was her baby - it must be? The monitors all started to loose their regularity as Y/n threw an uncoordinated limb to that side of the bed- already having realised her throat was way too scratchy to try to say anything comprehensible.

Immediately that got the attention of both the nurse, who immediately leapt up and called for support, as well as Harrison - who looked like he was seeing a ghost.

“Oh my-Y/n-?” Luckily he kept the baby safe in his arms rather than dropping her in shock, whilst Y/n kept her eyes locked onto the bundle in his arms. Nodding down, she tried to remove the mask (actually just very slightly knocking it to one side) and attempted to ask of the baby. Her throat, being inhumanly dry and scratchy, didn’t really work but Haz still got the message, scoffing in amazement.

“Aurora… here’s your mummy.” Harrisons voice was quiet and wavering as he delicately held Aurora against Y/n’s collar bone, the babies little tuft of har tickingling her chin. Now Y/n was crying with happiness, looking up at Haz’s icy blue eyes and questioning her name. Harrison confirmed with another disbelieving whisper, whilst the arm that wasn’t still holding Aurora clasped Y/n’s hand with a death grip. “Tom’s choice.”

The mention of him had both of them shift their gaze across the room to Tom’s chair. Even with all the developments, Tom still seemed completely unaware, fast asleep with the side of his face squished against the back of the chair making his lips slightly askew. Y/n were acutely aware of the small congregation of doctors that had accumulated in the corner of the bay but they seemed to be respectfully waiting before they would prod and poke. Haz went to call Tom’s name, before he could though, Y/n squeezed his arm and minutely shook her head. That wasn’t what the blue eyes boy had been expecting, causing Haz to unfold and bring Aurora back up to his chest as he quirked his eyebrows at her.

She didnt need to be filled in on the situation to know exactly what was happening. She had no idea why she was in the hospital bed; how long it had been since she’d given birth - but she knew all she needed to. From Harrisons unbelievably shocked face; and from the state of Tom - it hadn’t been good. Her fiancé looked almost ghostly, it seemed evident that he needed her. First then, she gestured to Haz for some water, which after a panicked look to the nurse; then from the nurse to various doctors; she was eventually given permission.

After somewhat alleviating the sandpaper feeling in her throat, Y/n then croakily asked for a bit of privacy. Right now the doctors all were gawking, Harrison assumed it to be because they’d all led him and Tom to believe she wouldn’t wake up for a while- and even then she was supposed to barely be awake, not able to talk and drink or anything of the sort. With an ecstatic nod Harrison, shuffled out - while doing so prompting the medical people to draw the curtains completely shut round the bay.

Already Y/n had tears welling up in her eyes, purely because she hated seeing him like this. He just looked so broken and shattered which honestly felt worlds worse than the labour she’d gone through. Her whole body still hurt, stiff and achy for reasons yet to be explained to Y/n. None of that mattered though, as she strained her arm out to the side in order to gently reach his knee that was folded up and sticking out awkwardly at an angle. After swallowing one again, Y/n squeezed round the joint and tried to shake it slightly. Instantly the man jumped up in his seat, heavy eyes blinking quickly and repeatedly as he tried to adjust to the room.

Being so sleep deprived and stressed out, Tom’s brain was not working normally, instead with a delayed haze as he apparently skipped over Y/n in the bed, rather surveying the the closed curtains and Harrison’s now empty chair. As he was lifting himself to sit more normally up, uncurling from the armchair, was when he noticed the hand on his knee. Breath caught in his chest, Tom instinctively bit his lip as his eyes gradually traced up the hand, to the forearm, up to the shoulder. It felt like a fever dream, as though all it would take is for him to move and she’d slip away again. But there were her green eyes, gleaming in a way that literally lifted a weight from his shoulders. Her smile was tired and a little confused, but so her - after spending days of just seeing all her features lax, Tom swore that it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

Only when Y/n finally croaked out a small ‘hi’ did Tom gain awareness of his body, or rather control of it, enough to leap up and leave over the bed - cradling her face in both his palms. Like a psycho he stared intently, swapping his focus from her left to her right eye like a madman.

“Your-I-I” He was trying to speak, trying to communicate all the thoughts and regrets of things he wished he’d said to her all at once. Weakly she reached up to fully remove the oxygen mask, dragging It down to below her chin, before squeezing his wrists in comfort. Only then did Tom notice the small puddle that had collected on her cheek, which made him realise he was absolutely bawling.

“You ‘kay?” Her voice was like sandpaper but everything about her was so completely Y/n and it was just giving Tom this unreal wave of euphoria. Physically incapable of replying, the brunette just scoffed, leaning over the bed even more so he could press his forehead on hers. He was laughing too, the fact she was asking him that seemed so preposterous, given all the tubes and wires attached to her at the moment. It took Y/n squeezing his wrist harder again to make him lean back a little, searching her eyes with his. She seemed so worried; seemed so full of concern - only then did Tom consider quite how much he’d ‘let himself go’ the past couple of days.

It had been two days since Aurora was born, only 48 hours. But the transformation was mad, none more so than mentally. 48 hours had quite literally changed everything for Tom; changed life forever and himself too. It was showing in his unshaven face, with unwashed greasy hair, everything just looking ‘tired’.

“‘m just really glad your awake.” It was so honest and sincere it did have Y/n wondering what had happened and for how long. What had she put her fiancé through?

“How long?”

“The worst two and a half days of my life… I got you now though, yeh?” Tom whispered wetly, while stroking the side of her cheek - wiping both his and her tears away.

“Always.”

The doctors and nurses then came in, podding and poking Y/n like no tomorrow while Harrison and Tom stood back a little - excitedly grinning at each other and the sleepy girl Haz was cradling, before Tom stole her off him. There was a momentary sick-to-his-stomach feeling after some of the professionals had cleared, seeing her eyes shut again felt like everything was crashing around him. Thankfully though, one of doctors noticed the look of despair on his face, explaining to the two men that she was just asleep normally. That although sh’ed spent along time unconscious, waking from a medical coma is in itself exhausting.

After the initial excitement of Y/n waking the next couple of days were pretty samey. She’d been moved down to a normal ward, no longer needed all the incessant bleeping machines but still had to stay in hospital. Tom found it tricky too, he just always felt he needed to be by her side ‘just in case’. In fact, it had been a source of a bit of tension between him and his fiancé - she could see how exhausted he was from looking after Aurora, plus the stress of being in the hospital for hours a day with her. As Y/n got better and more switched on to the state of him, she realised it was inevitable he’d crash at some point.

But after a week and a half in hospital - comprising of a baby, emergency surgery, 3 days on intensive care, followed by 8 on the ward - Y/n was discharged. Nikki and Dom moved in to Y/n and Tom’s place, to provide care support both for Aurora; and Y/n for the rest of her recovery; and secretly Tom for everything he’d been through.

She was still order on bed rest due to her surgical scars, so Tom and Nikki helped to set her up in the master bedroom as soon as they got in. Of course, everyone was aware of Toms odd mood that day. Until then the only thing he wanted was to get his fiancé back at home with him but now she was over the threshold his excitement and joy appeared to have been zapped out of him. In fact, he’d barely uttered more than a couple sentences. So once Y/n was properly comfortable and Dom had brought Aurora and the cot into the room, Tom’s parents quickly made themselves scarce.

Tom hadn’t stopped, finding some reason to rummage around in the chest of drawers m while Y/n chewed at her bottom lip, watching him.

“Tom?” All she got in response was a light hum. “Tom please will you come and sit down for a minute?”

“I just need to-“

“Tom!” Her exclamation finally properly got Tom to listen, jumping round to face her. “Please... please will you just stop for a second?” Y/n’s eyes felt as though they were boring holes in his skull. Really, Tom knew he’d be forced into this at some point because he couldn’t avoid Y/n. She had some power of mind reading over him. So with a defeated nod and sagging shoulders Tom rounded the bed, weaving between his side and Auroras cot - where she was sleeping soundly.

A silence overcame the room as he heavily planted himself on his side of the bed, mirroring Y/n’s posture leant against the headboard.

“I think we need to have an honest conversation T.”

“If you want.” Nothing about his reply was the picture of enthusiasm, causing Y/n to hesitate a little.

“Look I am so beyond grateful for everything you’ve done while I was in hospital... and it doesn’t take a genius to tell you’ve worked yourself half to death-“

“I’m fine-“

“Don’t lie to me. I know you’re trying to protect me but please... will you just talk to me? Honestly?”

His reply this time wasn’t completely unforeseeable but it still shocked Y/n quite how quickly it happened, especially almost unprovoked. Because that’s all it took for Tom to break, for the past 2 weeks to get their vengance, for all the repressed emotion to escape.

He was crying- well more accurately sobbing- into his hands, his back quaking. Naturally Y/n reached out to pull him into her side, suppressing the groan of pain as she moved a little too much for her abdomen to handle. “I’m here T. I got you and I’m not going anywhere m‘kay?”

And that’s how they stayed, for at least 10 minutes, with Tom crying into her shoulder as Y/n rubbed up and down his back. Eventually though, everything did calm down and Tom repositioned himself to lean his head on her shoulder just facing forward and focusing on playing with her fingers, lacing them fingers with his.

In all the time since she’d woken up, Y/n was yet to broach the subject of their babies name yet. She sensed it was a sensitive topic to say the least, so had thought it best to wait till they were properly alone - not in a ward of 6 strangers where the only privacy came in flimsy blue curtains.

“So…. Aurora huh? Thought it was too airy-fairy, head-in-the-clouds for you?” Smiling lightly, both of them were transported back to the pregnancy when they spent hours and hours bickering over names. Aurora had always been Y/n’s favourite but to Tom thought it was more a name for a hippy kid who went around clad in tie dye and bandanas.

“Still is a bit...but I needed a bit of a miracle and Iceland was in my head. Plus I sort of accidentally word vomited while shouting at Haz, for being nice to me.” Iceland as in when Tom had proposed under the aurora borealis in the freezing sky - when Y/n had agreed, promised even, to be with him forever.

“But you like it?”

“Of course... mother always knows best after all.”

“I think it suits her too. One of your best choices to date, listening to me.” Y/n mused, earning herself a very delicate but still playful elbow in the side before the room drifted back to a much more comfortable silence.

“We’re gonna get through this you know? Me, you and her, we’re together in this... I’m sorry I wasn’t in the beginning and I’m sorry I hurt you but now? I promise you got me and I’m not going anywhere…” Y/n needed to say it and needed Tom to properly listen. “ ...literally, I still cant walk properly.” Tom chuckled wetly at that, which made Y/n feel a lot better too.

To be completely honest, Tom was still hurt and he knew it’d take some mending to move past everything. By no means did he blame Y/n in anyway but just the fact he was left alone and abandoned - well, it was the worst time in his life. The way Y/n understood that and had apologised to him - if completely unnecessarily- meant everything. Meant she would help him to heal... whilst he helped her too.

“Can we just go to sleep? I need to wake up beside you in our bed not at tiny hospital one.” It was only 3 in the afternoon but because of Y/n’s medicine she was constantly drowsy and Tom? Tom was still in this permanent state of exhaustion. So it wasn’t so much of a weird request as it was on the face of it. With a nod, Y/n shuffled down on the bed a bit more resting her head against the top of Tom’s. It was exactly what they both needed, just a bit of peace with each other.

That lasted all of 5 minutes before Aurora woke and started to scream.

Life had most definitely changed. Especially for Tom. Because even though he was he was mentally and physically exhausted, he only appreciated his daughters screams whole heartedly... because Y/n was there groaning with a tired smile too. They were in this together.

~~~~

I really hope the ending didnt disappoint too much, im aware its rushed as hell, but thank you for getting this far! And I hope maybe this series has done a teeny tiny bit to normalise not everything in pregnancy and child birth being perfect - that there is morbidity and mortality associated. Obviously this is all fictional (esp the amazingly quick recovery and lack of neurological/other impairments) and not medically accurate in the slightest !!

my inbox is always open :) t x

Tagging : @whitewolf51

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #dad!tom #Tom Holland angst

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sokkadora · 4 years ago

Text

save me — sokka x reader

part one of two

summary: after getting snatched up by the dai li and azula, an unknowing sokka doesn’t expect to seeing you beside the princess. how is he going to get you back?

a/n: i used this same template on another ‘x reader’ on my wattpad do not attack me please </3 (reader has she/they pronouns)

wc: 3.4k

warning(s): blood, stabbing, brainwashing, angst

The Dai Li waited within a circle with a single candle on it, and the only thing to be seen on his face was a sinister grin.

Two of the agents had their hands wrapped around your arms, dragging you towards a chair with straps on it. You kicked at their feet, and screamed through the fabric tied around your mouth. Tears streamed down your cheeks, making the scrapes and cuts from the earlier fight sting. But you hardly felt it.

Something visceral overtook your senses: a sort of wild panic. Your heart hammered against your ribcage, and you felt every painful throb in your ears. No matter how much you kicked, pulled, or squirmed - you couldn't escape. The two agents holding you kept walking towards the chair, a creepy blank expression on their faces.

"Do you know why you’re here, little one?" The agent asked, staring down at you intensely. He stood on a platform in the circle: all calm, tall and evil. His air of peace was more disturbing than his cruel smirk. You growled and tried to lunge at him, but your captors wouldn't let you budge. "No? Very well. This is the beginning of a journey for you. Here, you will be remade into a loyal servant for our King and due to the Princess’ orders, will serve at her side. All your memories, your mistakes, your flaws, your - past self, your pain... will be stripped away. You can start anew in Ba Sing Se, my child."

Your mouth went dry, and a panicked scream died in your throat. 'Wouldn't have done me any good anyways. No one could hear me. No one would save me.' You thought to yourself as you slumped in the agent's hold, the fight leaving you as tears dripped off your chin. 'No one can save me. It was too dangerous. In this fight - I am alone.'

As your feet dragged closer to the chair, memories appeared in your head. Some of them were as all those stories say; your life passing by.

You remembered the first time you met the GAang, specifically Sokka - the look of determination he had when he was fighting. You almost laughed - he had knocked you out with his club on accident and apologized for days on end. Then you remembered you two fighting side by side - together. You two felt invincible in those moments. You saw his eyes in your mind - how they held so many shades of blue and gray. Sure, they changed hues slightly with the weather, but they had much more subtle changes too. When he was sad or upset they twinkled a steel-gray, a storm held in his gaze. When he was happy they'd glow deep ocean blue, so full of joy and love. It was a particular hue, with a kind of natural brilliance and depth, that had quickly become your favorite - your place of comfort and hope. You remembered the past few months you shared, and you dreamt of a future that would never come to pass.

You dreamt of standing in front of him, his hands in yours, and promising a life by his side. You had promised to love him and cherish him, for as long as you had on this crazy adventure. You dreamt of strolling through the streets of a random town, your fingers laced together as you browsed the shops. You two laughed and chased each other, the terrors of war long forgotten. Your heart clenched painfully as the lump in your throat grew - You remembered all the things you didn't get to say.

You got sat into the chair. The agents stood on either side, beginning to strap you in. And you couldn't lie, it stung. They tugged the strap around your wrists, biceps, calves and neck tightly. You wondered if your heart would just give out eventually - stop its own misery. One of the agents reached over and untied the piece of cloth from your mouth.

You didn't scream, didn't plead, and didn't cry as the agent in the circle began repeating the words, ‘The Avatar and his friends are the enemy’.

You held a blank expression and only whispered, "Sokka, I love you. I am so sorry." And everything went black.

　　　　　　　　　　⋆˚ ✩ ࿐ཻ

You don't really remember what happened afterwards, your mind felt like it was missing a large chunk of time. You couldn't see in the pitch black room, and your head hurt. When you ran your fingers through your hair, you noticed it was slightly shorter.

You felt weird; oddly numb and not quite like yourself. Besides whatever was missing from your memories, you couldn't feel much of anything. It was the sort of senselessness that didn't bring calm, but a deep sense of unease - an echo of a warning.

A man eventually came to your room, a devious smirk spread on his face. He offered his hand, and you took it. "Welcome to the side of the powerful, (Y/n)," He said, nodding at you.

And a reply tumbled from your lips as you nodded. "Thank you,"

He wordlessly led you out of the room and through the castle. Your feet moved quietly as you walked into the main room. the Earth King’s throne glistened by the control center, and his army of agents lined the balconies. All your could see were three Kyoshi Warriors, the Earth King, and his bear. The agent led you in through the side, shielding you away from something happening in front of the throne. You heard the King speak, and then someone shouted at him. Sokka.

You tensed up slightly, a growl taking a place on your features. Something in you wanted to yell at him to run, to leave, and forget about you but you didn’t know why. You didn’t say anything, but you were stuck in place, the hopeless warning ricocheting in your mind. It was like trying to escape a prison within yourself - no matter how much you clawed and threw yourself against the invisible force holding your memories back in your own head - it wouldn't budge. Until Azula spoke.

"I believe I have someone you peasants have been looking for. Come here, (Y/n)." Her voice echoed as the agents in front of you moved to the side. You took a confident step forward. Azula stood next to the throne, holding the King at flame-point. In front of him, Toph was flopped on the ground, looking beaten and messy, but Sokka was being held back by Mai and Ty Lee. Sokka gasped when he saw you, a look of hurt flashing across his eyes.

"(Y/n)?" He asked. You felt a desperate wanted to reply, the restrained memory in your mind practically shouting at you to do so.

"Hello, Sokka. Toph." You growled. Your voice sounded far too harsh - aggressive almost.

Sokka growls, "What did you do to them?!" He tries to run to you, but two girls grip his arms tighter and hold him back. He thrashes around before stopping, gazing up at you as tears formed in his eyes. You felt a distinct hatred for the boy, but it was almost artificial, and you raised your eyebrows.

You walked in front of Azula, getting on your knees and bowing, "Oh, don't worry, peasant. The Dai Li helped them. You should’ve seen it..." She reaches out for your hand, and you take it to stand. "...she was so overwhelmed by anxiety and rage and pain in the end... and we brought her to the right side. Isn't that right..." She rubs her thumb on the the back of you neck. "(Y/n)?"

"Yes, Princess Azula. The Dai Li have given me meaning, Sokka," You walked to him, bending down a bit to reach his eye level, your hand cupping his face. You felt his tears fall on your thumb. You felt pity for him because of the words you were about to spit out. And whatever the agents did to you, they tore up your throat with a kind of poison you never could have used on Sokka normally. "You broke my heart, and the saddest part? You didn't even realize it."

"Please, (Y/n)." He begged. The tone in his voice practically drove a knife through your chest. And you couldn't control yourself. You're hurting him.

"You abandoned me when I needed you most. You let me fall right into the Dai Li’s grasp. You abandoned me, Sokka. After you promised you wouldn't." You clutched Sokka’s face tighter, causing him to wince in pain.

"(Y/n), please! I-I never meant to leave you. I tried to come back for you, I swear. But I promised I'd come back for you. (N/n), you have to fight it!" He shouted. You scratched his cheek. A small bit a blood dripped. Your gut wrenched, and you felt horrible, sick.

"You and your promises, Sokka." You almost laughed, smiling cynically. "It's a little too late for that now, isn't it? Do you want to know what hurt the most?" You words dripped with a kind of malice and cruelty you felt like you meant. It was like your insecurities and fears were being warped, molded into a false hatred, weaponized to hurt the one person you loved most. "My place is with Princess Azula, Sokka. I don't want to leave."

Sokka let out a shaky breath, "(Y/n), I am so, so sorry, please—"

"It hurt because I loved you," The moment you said it, something inside you shattered. And it seems as though something shattered in Sokka as well.

Sokka whimpered, closing his eyes. You could feel his jaw clench in your hand, the muscles pulsing lightly. When he looked up at you, you felt a desperate kind of rage and heartbreak ripple through your body and your face softened. He looked broken. His eyes turned a dark shade of gray you'd never seen before, like your words had extinguished the light behind them.

This was a kind of twisted that left a vile and gross feeling in your chest. This was not supposed to be how you told him, and loved? Loved? You never stopped loving him. You never would. You couldn't.

Sokka lividly turns to Azula, "Let them go." He growled, once again trying to escape the girls grasps.

Azula places a hand on your shoulder and you gasp as she cackles, "Shall we make a deal, boomerang boy?" She slowly drags on. "I will give them to you, if... you want her..." Sokka’s gaze fixated on your tense form for a moment, and narrowed at Azula. "But first, you must do something for me. You... will give me the Avatar."

Sokka glared determinedly at Azula, "Never." He spit. You knew be wouldn't, but it didn't make it hurt any less.

"Very well." She smirks, snapping her fingers. Mai held up a knife to his bicep and sliced it through, the deep red liquid flowing down his arm. Sokka collapsed out of their grip, kneeling on the ground with a hand over his arm. Sokka winced as Azula grinned wickedly, and closed his eyes. He looked a little dazed. Momo rushes out of the agents grip and to Sokka, scampering around him before being scooped up again, "You miscalculated. You thought yourself worthy to challenge me. But the Avatar is nothing but false hero, the very last of the pathetic Air Nomads to fall at my hands." Azula cackled. "You have led your friends to destruction." Azula harshly yanked you closer to her. A choked sob died in your throat and Sokka gasped before whimpering. “A terrible decision on your end, truly.”

Sokka fought back his own sobs, tears continuously streaming down his brown face. The quickly rising panic in your chest allows you to break through the mind washing for a moment. You gasp lightly, your eyes giving your usual softness as you whipped your gaze to Sokka, breathing in sharply. Sokka searched your eyes.

"Sokka, go!" You shouted. Azula squeezed your shoulder once again, making you wince in pain as you felt the memories leave again.

Azula looks amused. "Ah..." He pats you on the head, and you hum unconsciously, "but you two brats must have a lot of catching up to do. I will leave you to it, take the blind girl to the cell." Azula handed you a staff. Your hand instinctively grabbed the center, wrapping around it. You caught your reflection in the clean and reflective floors - you didn't recognize yourself.

Sokka stood, holding his arm as he looked to you, desperate, "(N/n), please." He whispered brokenly.

You lunged at Sokka, and he barely had time to deflect with his machete. You kicked him in the stomach, sending him flying back.

At this point, you felt like you had mentally screamed yourself hoarse, if that was possible. You hated Sokka, right? He was your sworn enemy and your Princess hated him. So you should too? But as your staff came down in strike after strike, and Sokka only defended himself. Even if he was injured, he probably could easily overpower you, but for some reason he didn't. You were always the better fighter, but some part of you hoped that your slightly wacky mental state would weaken you enough for him to take you down.

"(Y/n), listen to me. I know you're still in there." He pleaded. "I'm not leaving without you. It's gonna be okay—" He said, dodging another blow. You dropped your staff, using the distraction to drive a punch into his side. He grunted, and stepped back. You cracked a evil, crooked grin as you slowly advanced at him.

"You already left me!" You shouted back, throwing another punch. He caught it, twisting your arm behind your back and holding you in place. Sokka's machete touched your neck. Your staff was just barely out of reach. "But no matter. You can still come to the right side and be with me, stand by my side like you promised, Sokka."

Sokka spun you around and placed a kick to your chest that sent you into a pillar. The pillar cracked a bit behind your head, and you felt a tug on your neck. You whimpered, shaking off the pain. Sokka looked concerned, his brows furrowed and lips pulled into a frown. He held out his hand towards you, asking you to stop.

"(Y/n), please come back to me. I don't want to hurt you." He begged. Your heart twisted violently, but it didn't stop you from picking up the staff.

"You already hurt me, Sokka. When you didn't come back for me," You growled, noticing the atmosphere of outside the castle. Sokka gasped, his face a picture of utter heartbreak. You caused that, and you felt satisfied?

It left you feeling insane and hollow at the same time. Before you knew what was happening you leaped into the air, bringing the staff down with you. Sokka sidestepped the blow, but not before you caught his leg with the sharp edge on the staff. He hissed, turned, and kicked you in the back. You stumbled towards the stairs, one foot slipping halfway off.

"(Y/n)!" Sokka shouted, reaching a hand out. You looked down the stairs, seeing the steep drop and you laughed. You began to fall back, still grinning. Sokka sprinted forward and tugged you back by your arms. He pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you.

You wanted to feel safe. You wanted to hug him back, to hold him, to bury your face in his neck and apologize until your voice lost its strength. Instead, you dragged your sharpened nails across his broad shoulders. Sokka cried out in pain, his broken breath falling on your neck. At that moment, You decided that if you made it out - you'd never forgive yourself.

Sokka shuffled on the edge, pulling you both back onto the more solid ground. Azula’s voice boomed behind the two of you, "I wonder, do you know just how much they've suffered? Did they ever tell you about the burden they carry, of so many they couldn't save back at their home? They have so much pain. I imagine you didn't know. There's so very much they didn't tell you, and now? Well, you'll just be another person they couldn't save. Isn't that right, little one?" You felt a pressure in your head, and a cacophony of voices erupted around you. You broke through for another second.

"Sokka?" The tears glistened on his cheeks. He yelled, spinning you around again and slamming you into another pillar. Something snapped in your head and you howled in pain, the sound quickly morphing into a deranged laugh. The voices kept getting louder around you, mumbling things about killing the Avatar and the Fire Nation, the war. You coughed, regaining control of your head for a split second. You reached back out to Sokka. He looked at you, searching you face, as if in that moment he saw you again. Azula quickly repeated those hypnotic words, sending you into a spiral.

"I am not giving up on you, (Y/n)!" He exclaimed, panting with desperation clear in his voice as he clenched his arm.

You broke through once again, "Sokka..." You muttered meekly before the mind control broke through again.

Azula’s voice thundered again, "Then you're a fool! You cannot stop my father. He will reign triumphant over all the nations! It is... destiny."

You felt a shock shot down your spine, and this time you could see sparks flying. You cried out in agony, feeling like you were being torn apart. Something started buzzing behind you.

"No!" Sokka yanked you towards him. He leaped you two away from the Azula shot just as she shot it, the two of you tumbling away from the princess. Your head felt like it was on fire and your joints felt sore. Whatever had happened to you, gave you a little bit of room to fight through the brainwashing.

Sokka quickly rushed you behind a pillar, hiding from Azula. "Sokka... you should have stayed away." You lightly growled. "Why did you come back? We both know I don't matter," You said in a broken whisper. He dragged himself closer, cradling your face in his hands. There were bloody cuts on his fingers and knuckles. Sokka looked at you with a kind of panic and terror that shook you to the bone, but something else shimmered behind his eyes. Something full of hope...

"You matter to me. I need you," He breathed, his lips forming a sad smile. There was a cut on his bottom lip, a bit of blood smeared down his chin.

You weakly smile and half-sob, before gasping as Azula shouted the hypnotic words once more, and your control whooshed away, your eyes turning harsh and pulling Sokka’s hand away. You slap Sokka, causing him to grunt and tumble backwards. You walk toward the ledge, no stairs leading down this time as you cry out in pain as your mind battles itself. You grasp your head as Azula and Sokka’s words clash.

Sokka stands back up, a desperate look on his face and voice shaking as he speaks, "Come on, (Y/n)! You've never listened to anyone in your life! So, are you really going to start now?!"

You felt the voices whoosh away and managed a broken smile, "You're such an idiot..."

Sokka nodded as he laugh through his tears, "Yeah... I know..." He smiles tearfully, "I'm going to take you home, (N/n)."

The voices whoosh as your eyes turn back to normal and you half-sob weakly, "Promise?" You mumble just loud enough for him to hear.

Sokka cries, reaching out his hand desperately, "I promise!" He cries.

You give him a small, broken, yet hopeful smile and swallow thickly as you shakily reach out, "Sokka..."

Before you can touch Sokka, Azula shouts the words again and your hand retracts, you whimper. You stand up straight, eyes wide and palms sweaty. You wanted to shout. To cry. To feel practically anything and have control over your actions again, but it felt impossible.

Azula voice was terrifying as she neared closer to the two of you, "Very disappointing. Some creatures are destined only for destruction."

Your feel your head go quiet, but a sharp pain stabs through your head. You scream and clutch your head painfully. You begin to fall backward.

Sokka reaches for you as you nearly fall off the ledge, "(Y/n), no!" He shouts. Sokka quickly grabs you and hugs your nearly unconscious form to his chest.

Azula growled, quickly rushing to you two, but getting shot away by a stone. Toph rounds the stone, a panicked look on her face as Kuei and Bosco run up behind her.

“We have to go now, Sokka!” Toph shouts, waving for Sokka to follow her to Appa. Sokka looks down at you, and is just relieved that you’re alive before joining them.

#sokka x reader #sokka x y/n #sokka x you #sokka imagine #atla x reader #zoe's works #my works

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