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olive-branch-witch · 1 year ago

Text

The Start of Something Wonderful

A/N: I've been feeling the urge to write something with Gale and my Tav OC Xune (zoo-neh). I plan on writing different characters, but I'd like to finish their romance first. This is my first time writing fanfic since I was like 12, so any constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!

Warnings: Canon accurate racism against drow

WC: 1,689

The sunlight beamed down on Xune's face as they blinked awake. They flinched slightly, becoming aware of the pounding in their head as they looked up. There's no point in sitting around, I guess. They thought as they slowly stood up from the ground. They leaned against a nearby rock outcropping as they tried to ground themselves to reality.

I... I blew up a nautiloid. Xune glanced around to confirm what they remember. Large pieces of burning wreckage lay on the ground around them, the acrid scent of smoke now becoming noticeable. They recoil a little at the sight before taking stock of themself. They miraculously seem to be relatively uninjured, aside from their splitting headache.

Xune took a deep breath as they closed their eyes, attempting to block out the sunlight. They weren't used to the world being so... bright. It hurt their eyes.

A low groan came from somewhere off to their right. Their eyes shot open as they turned to look in the direction of the sound, causing them to wince. Shielding their eyes from the light, they took a couple shaky steps forward.

Oh shit. There was a body laying in the sand. Their eyes widened as they continued forward. As they got closer, they recognized the person as the one they freed from the mind flayer capsule. Shadowheart. Their memory of what happened on the ship was blurry, but they think that's what she said her name was.

Thankfully she also appeared to be uninjured and was breathing with no issue. Xune noticed the strange artifact she was insistent on bringing with her laying next to her. Their curiosity piqued, they slowly leaned over her to try and get a better look.

As they did, Shadowheart's eyes opened. They locked gazes. Xune brought their hands up in a gesture of peace.

"What were you doing?" Shadowheart asked defensively, quickly swiping the artifact into her bag as she did so.

"I was trying to wake you up," Xune replied, their voice raspy.

Shadowheart nodded skeptically, looking them up and down. "Right, if you say so..."

Xune's head tilted to the side and their brows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean by that?"

"Oh, nothing," she said, "just that I'm not sure I believe you. Drow are known to be untrustworthy, after all."

Xune stepped back slightly, not expecting that response. They looked away before nodding to themself and beginning to walk away.

"Where are you going?" Shadowheart called after them, jogging to catch up.

"Away."

"Oh come on, surely you hear that all the time," she justifies, "and besides, if I really didn't trust you then I wouldn't have followed you on the nautiloid."

Xune glances at her as they walk, nodding curtly. They brought their hand up to shield their eyes from the sun again as the two of them walked away from the wrecked ship.

"Hearing it all the time doesn't make it hurt any less..." Xune grumbles, pulling ahead a bit.

Shadowheart falters at this, stumbling over a piece of ruin. Xune turns to look back at her harshly.

"I'm... I'm sorry," She whispers, guilt in her eyes, "you're right. I shouldn't have said that. I don't think I'm in the right state of mind right now. I think the worm is messing with my head."

The worm... Xune's eyes widened. They completely forgot about the worm in their brains.

"We need to find a healer. Now." They grit out, turning back to the path and setting out.

"Do you know what these things will do to us?" She asks.

"Nothing good. I read some books about mind flayers ages ago when I was bored. I can't remember anything specific, but I do know that we have a limited amount of time." They answer dourly. "Do you have any idea where we are?"

"I- no. I don't recognize this place."

Xune opens their mouth to reply when they notice a trace of red on the ground. They frown and take a closer look. Blood. They feel the blood drain from their face as Shadowheart peers around them.

"Oh..." She says.

"Oh indeed." They say as they start walking away.

After that, the hike was blessedly peaceful. At several points, Xune stopped and just took in the environment. Their eyes were slowly but surely getting used to the sunlight on the surface.

The pair walked in somewhat companionable silence. There was still some tension between them, but it was put aside for the moment. They have bigger issues to worry about.

Like that weird glowing purple rock on the side of the path.

Xune's eyebrows furrowed as they approached the stone cautiously. An arm reaches out from the rock, startling them into taking a step back.

"A hand? Anyone?" A voice calls.

Xune stares in shock for a moment, unsure of what to do, before lightly slapping the hand in a high five.

"Perhaps I should have clarified," The hand points up, "A helping hand? Anyone?"

Xune looks back at Shadowheart, who shrugs warily, before reaching out and grabbing the hand. They pull as hard as they could, digging their heels into the ground to gain traction.

Then all the resistance to them vanishes. They fall backwards onto the ground, and a body comes flying out from the stone.

Okay... Surprisingly not the weirdest thing I've seen all day. Xune thinks, looking at the person.

He seems human, with shoulder length graying brown hair and a short beard. He has an earring that looks familiar, but they just can't quite place it.

Then he looks up.

Xune and the new person lock gazes for a second, which is apparently enough for the parasites in their heads to create a connection. Xune winces and brings a hand up to their head as visions of large bookshelves and evenings gazing at the sunset rush over them.

The visions fade.

Xune looks at the human curiously.

"Hello," He greets, "I'm Gale of Waterdeep. Apologies, I'm usually better at this."

Xune blinks at him owlishly before responding, "No, no it's quite alright. Are you hurt?"

"A bit shocked, but it's a relief and a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He pauses for a second, looking at them closer. "Say, but I know you don't I?"

I'm sure I would remember meeting you... The thought can barely flash through Xune's head before they push that idea down. No. No we do not have time for this. Let him finish speaking.

"In a manner of speaking." He corrects, "You were on the nautiloid as well."

They nod at him, not daring to say anything in case their mouth refuses to listen to logic and blurt out everything they're thinking about him.

"There's no use sugarcoating anything, so I'll be blunt," He says, suddenly looking much more serious than before, "These parasites, are you aware that after an excruciating gestation period they will turn us into mind flayers?"

Xune's face pales. "I... I've read something like that, yes." They whisper.

Gale's face scrunches up in sympathy at their reaction before continuing in a softer tone. "It is a process known as ceremorphosis, and let me assure you, it is to be avoided." He turns his gaze from them to Shadowheart. "Neither of you happen to be clerics by any chance? A doctor? Surgeon? Uncannily adroit with a knitting needle?"

Xune looks at him in shocked disbelief. He just said that they were all going to become mind flayers, and he's making jokes? All they can do is shake their head mutely.

Thankfully, Shadowheart decides to speak up, "You seem to know enough about our condition to realize that it is beyond most cleric's skills."

"Most, no doubt. But I find myself hoping to be in the presence of the few. You don't happen to be one of them?" He inquires, glancing between the two of you.

"No, unfortunately," She sighs.

"I suppose that is to be expected. It's not exactly a common affliction." Gale concedes. "We're most certainly going to need a healer, and soon. How about we work together on this and look for one together?"

Xune finally regains control of their voice, "Of course. That seems like the best course of action." They croak.

"Most excellent. A parasite shared is a parasite halved," He pauses, "Or, something to that effect. Oh! But before you think you're about to embark on a journey with most ill-mannered a man: thank you for pulling me out of that stone."

Xune smiles at him shakily, "You're welcome."

Gale returns the smile warmly. "It was an act of foresighted kindness I assure you, for I have the feeling ample opportunities will present themselves for me to return the favor."

Xune nods wearily, "I'm sure there will be. We really should get moving if we want to find a healer."

"You've got that right," Shadowheart says. "I'm Shadowheart, by the way."

Gale looks at Xune expectantly.

"My name is Xune, it's nice to have you, Gale of Waterdeep."

He smiles at that before asking for a quick word. "Listen, I'm sorry for what I said earlier. You... you didn't seem to handle it well."

They look at him, slightly shocked, "I... didn't. But you don't need to apologize for it," They assure, "I would much rather have all the information, no matter how disturbing, than turn into a mind flayer with no warning."

Gale nods slowly at that, smiling. "Well, I'm thankful you aren't too upset. It wouldn't do to start our adventure off making one of the party members hate me."

Xune returns his smile softly, mumbling agreements under their breath. I don't think I could hate you... They shake their head lightly in frustration at their thoughts. You don't know him. You have a mind flayer parasite in your skull. Stop.

"We need to start walking," They say lightly.

"Indeed we do, my friend!" Gale agrees enthusiastically.

The two of them set out, halfheartedly attempting to catch up to Shadowheart before deciding to simply walk together behind her.

Despite everything, Xune was hopeful. They hadn't felt that in a long time.

#bg3 #bg3 oc #baldurs gate 3 #gale bg3 #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #pls ignore the stupid cowboy hat i have him in #i thought it was funny #gale x tav #gale baldurs gate 3 x oc #gale dekarios x oc

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wordsinhaled · 2 years ago

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the opposite of blindness

“A man moves through time. It means nothing except that, like a harpoon, once thrown he will arrive.”

— Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red

i. peirázō (to test, tempt)

hob gadling dreams of a leaden sky, and the dark-watered sea stretched out under it, and in the sea a siren.

the siren-figure floats on his back, wraithlike, just beneath the surface. hob can barely make him out and yet he is all hob can see: eyes deep and black as the cosmos dotted with stars, wild hair drifting in the current like so many tendrils of seaweed, a phosphorescent constellation spreading between his palms.

desire is sudden in hob, and visceral. oh, to pick his way down the cliffside and give himself over to the waves. oh, to know the strength of those pale arms, the suffocating kiss from that sardonic mouth. to drown and drown, as he surely would.

“who are you?” hob shouts into the moonless night.

he hears “you know who i am” carried to him on the crash of the surf against the promontory, whispered to him in gull-shrieks and in the gusting gale.

hob does not think he knows.

he wakes with brackish tears drying on his cheeks, and at the edges of his consciousness he feels a revelation, but it slips away before he can grasp it.

ii. pothéō (to long, yearn)

hob is lost in a twilit dream-forest.

the dense, moldering leaf litter muffles his footfalls and obscures the paths he has already walked. how long has he wandered here, buffeted by an ill wind, imagining malevolent faces in the shadows of the trees?

in the next moment, hob stumbles upon a clearing, sun-drenched and warm, and in the clearing is a hut. hob peers at the smoke that curls lazily up from the chimney; at the black-cloaked man who sits on the stoop, whittling a raven from a small block of cedar.

he seems to absorb some of the sunlight into himself, as though clothed in an absence of reality, and refracts the rest into tiny rainbows that dance about his person like day-lit fireflies. when he puts down his craft to push back the hood of his cloak, hob is surprised to see the man is younger than he appeared, and pallid as marble, and there are twin points of starlight glimmering in his eyes.

“i’ve seen you before,” hob says to him, on the verge of realization. “where have i seen you?” but the man dignifies hob’s question only by rising on soundless bare feet to disappear inside the hut, leaving the door slightly ajar.

“join me if you wish,” he calls, and hob feels overfull with longing.

with the feeling comes an odd presentiment: hob sees, abruptly, how days will pass as seconds within the hut. how he will have his fill of wine and sweetmeats and blessed cool water. how this radiant stranger will draw him down to lie tangled together on the rush mats spread before the hearth. how hob might never leave, even as the nights grow long, even as wind and rain and time ravage the world beyond this place. he sees, and knows he could spend many lifetimes here, happily.

hob turns and goes the way he arrived, nostrils full of the scent of wildflowers and woodsmoke.

when he wakes, a carving of a raven rests on the pillow next to his head. hob cannot remember what he learned in his dream, but his heart aches for a fortnight nonetheless.

iii. titrṓskō (to wound)

this night, hob dreams of a war, great and terrible.

it is an amalgam of all the battles he has ever fought, some that came before his time, and more yet to be fought in unwritten futures. people from all the eras of the world kill and die and mourn their dead around him, in a gruesome jumble of chariots and tanks and spears and gunfire and lasers—all the myriad ways humanity has invented to destroy itself.

hob is bone-tired, blood-drenched. he is carrying a sword.

he wades through an ocean of the fallen to reach the silhouette that beckons from the crest of the next hill, shrouded in smoke and fire.

the man wears a hoplite’s armor, his helm’s burnished lustre now dulled with soot and dust. the image of a crow blazoned on his shield seems to shift its wings, almost alive—a trick played by the acrid smog. the pinpricks of light in his eyes gleam white as death-shrouds.

hob lays his xiphos at the man’s feet. watches him pick it up, heft it solemnly in his elegant hands.

“you again,” hob says. “what is it you’re trying to tell me?”

“one day, this pain will be useful to you,” says the man, in a voice that quakes the earth.

then he runs hob through with his own blade.

iv. elpízō (to hope)

hob crosses a bustling square on market day.

he finds the rickety table and two empty chairs languishing outside a defunct tavern. across the weathered boards shuttering one tavern window, someone has etched the reminder of a memory:

hic fiumus cari duo nos sine fine sodales. we two dear men, friends forever, were here.

hob sits; the chair is comfortable. he waits. in this dream, hob’s soul feels formed in the shape of patience.

bright noon sun bakes the cobblestones and heats the air, turning it thick with the smell of briny olives, ripe fruit, fresh fish. impossible to dwell on death’s coppery tang or grief’s grim weight, here. he knows a kind of immediacy, as he lets the din of the crowd knit him whole.

a man claims the chair opposite him, noiseless, stately-postured. his robes are black as pitch and hemmed in flame; within his eyes he holds an entire glowing universe.

“well met, rovertus,” he says, smiling.

that name—known and unknown, worn and unworn, his and not his—jostles hob, nudges at something long-asleep in his spirit. he sees, suddenly, the long path ahead and behind, all the life-lengths spent and not-spent with this stranger who is no stranger at all. surely they have walked already arm in arm through endless fields of aconites; even now they make love on a wave-scourged beach; and will they not someday rally and perish side by side on a thousand battlefields, only to rise again?

“well met,” hob says, “my love, my life, oneiros.”

“i bring you the favor of the gods,” oneiros tells him. “they would grant you a gift. a few threads of their raiment, if you will but wear it.”

it is hob’s turn to smile, wistful. “you always do speak in riddles.”

“drink with me, should you accept,” says starry-eyed oneiros, soft, “and your dearest wish shall be yours.” two vessels that were not there before rest on the little table between them, brimming with golden mead.

“my only wish is simple,” hob says.

he drinks down to the dregs, and wakes, and lives—the taste of honey ever on his tongue.

———

notes:

i have STARED AT THIS TOO LONG so i’m calling it finished. i really thought dream and hob deserved to be mythologized a little bit so... mythology-inspired dreamling fic! *yells incoherently* this all started because i was thinking about morpheus in greco-roman mythology, appearing to kings and heroes in dreams... and then... it just got away from me and became a shameless excuse to mash a ton of tropes from myth together at once, to be emotionally compromised by anne carson, and to probably misuse ancient greek a fair bit (i only took one classics course in college which was enough for it to be Formative To My Personality but not helpful in this case for ancient greek or latin lmao, classics side of tumblr please go easy on me)

morpheus’ line in part iii paraphrases “Be patient and tough; someday this pain will be useful to you” from ovid’s metamorphoses

the graffiti in part iv is part of some graffiti discovered in a thermopolium in pompeii.

Hic fiumus cari duo nos sine fine sodales nomina si [quaeris Caius et Aulus erant] [CIL 04 8162] (“We two dear men, friends forever, were here. If you want to know our names, they are Gaius and Aulus”)

*title also from Autobiography of Red, talking about the moment of falling in love— “...there it was one of those moments that is the opposite of blindness. The world poured back and forth between their eyes once or twice.”

#the sandman #dreamling #mythology inspired dreamling

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kimbap-r0ll · 2 years ago

Note

Just readed the promt, where we get possessed by chernabog and i was wondring, if you wouldwrite a part 2? The fights and the aftermath of the possession?

Thank you for the ask! I have been so busy I haven’t been able to write for seven characters recently, sorry about that, uni is keeping me busy. Here's the first part for those who want to see it!

Dorm leaders react to Yuu being possessed by Chernabog Part 2

Riddle

Thankfully, Malleus was nearby on his usual walk when he spotted Riddle being hurled across the field by you, or whatever the smoky figure behind you was. He knew immediately of who it was, it was written in old history books about how he could return in centuries to come, and here he was, tormenting you and Riddle in the process

Malleus runs towards you, magic pen in and and a surge of magic enveloping the field. Riddle tried to get up but he could feel his bones aching from the fall that he had to endure. “Wait, don’t hurt them!” Riddle shouted at Malleus, but the fae prince didn’t seem to hear.

“Do not fret, human, I will make sure this ends peacefully,” Malleus says, and before Riddle can react, Malleus shoots lightning towards a direction he is pointing at. First, Riddle thinks that he hit you, but he realized that he actually went ahead and hit another part of the school. The tower?

There happened to be bells up there, and that would likely stun Chernabog, at least Malleus hoped, and it worked! Right when the bells rang, Malleus hit the stunned you and right after that the smog disappeared, leaving you falling from being slightly lifted into the air. Riddle ran to catch you, causing his body to instead hit the ground once again

“Thank you, Malleus,” Riddle said to the Diasomnia student. Malleus just smiled and walked off like nothing had happened. Riddle made sure you were taken to the medical wing as soon as possible, and he stayed by your side until you woke up.

The aftermath was sweet, he was just glad to have you back and that you were alright now. You didn’t seem to remember quite what happened, and he didn’t give a lot of details about it to you either, in case it would strain you. But you did notice he smiled more often than before when the two of you hung out

Leona

The three Savanaclaw students watched as you glared back at them. It had to be done, something to stun you or at least knock you out, and Leona had magic strong enough to cause you to, well, turn to sand, so there had to be a way!

Wait...perhaps that could work? Leona weighed the odds of how he should deal with this, it was clear that there was something hovering over you, though because of how dark the room was he wasn’t sure. If he could aim for that, similar to aiming for an overblot phantom, perhaps he could save you from being possessed any longer

“Stay out of this, I think I have a plan,” Leona told Ruggie and Jack with an arm blocking them from going forward. “Wait, what are you thinking of doing?” Ruggie asked but before he could get an answer, Leona lunged forward, tackling you to the ground. The others could see you attacking Leona as well, both with your own hands and whatever smoky figure was hovering above you. But right when it seemed like Leona’s head was about to be sliced, he managed to grab the smoke.

“There, thought there might be a weakness, didn’t think it would be the horns,” he smirked, though he was bleeding from his forehead. Then, using his unique magic, the smoke went into flames, who knew it could do that? After long, agonizing minutes, Jack noticed the sun was coming up, and with that suddenly the smoke disappeared, like the sand.

Leona took you to the medical wing immediately, carrying you gently and muttering to himself about hoping that you weren’t dead. Thankfully, the nurses told the Savnaclaw students that you were fine, and that you would wake up soon.

Leona never told you what happened other than that you hit your head on the floor and passed out, teasing that you need to be more careful. But you did notice he was a bit more protective, or at least he was wrapping his arm around you a lot more than he used to. Don’t ask him about it, he’ll just look away and say that he likes your company, “that’s all.”

Azul

Azul couldn’t find the headmaster, of course that useless crow man wouldn’t be around when they needed him the most! So, instead, he turned his heels and ran back, perhaps he was thinking he could somehow save you, but how? He stopped midway, remembering how you called him “worthless,” but he shook his head and tried to tell himself it wasn’t you, it was whatever “Chernabog” was. He advanced, but was quickly joined by Malleus.

“Are you running late for something?” Malleus asked, and Azul fumbled with his glasses. “Ah, well, t-there’s this thing, Cherna...bog I think was his name? It’s possessing y/n,” Azul just spilled all of the information, maybe the fae prince could help? Without a second wasted, Malleus joined with Azul to help take the demon down.

When they came back, Crewel had been dueling with you/Chernabog for a few minutes. He looked beat, his coat was frayed and there was some blood on his face too. You on the other hand, looked unscathed. “Are there any large windows here?” Malleus asked, and Azul looked at him in a confused way. “The sun will rise soon, in about ten minutes, this demon hates its rays.”

With that, Azul shouted at Crewel and Malleus to follow him, and the trio all ran to another side of Octavinelle: towards the sea. There was no way they would get sunlight, right? Well, unless they broke through the middle part of the Lounge, where most of the sunlight was collected. With that, they pushed you in at the ten minute mark, hoping it would do something.

It was a strange scene; a black fog of some kind caused you to scream, then it disappeared. You were in the water but Azul quickly got you out of it and the trio all ran to the infirmary. Other than the fact that you had been possessed, the nurse said that you were fine with the exception that you were likely going to get sick from being dunked in cold water. Azul thanked Crewel and Malleus, and Crewel said that this didn’t count as any kind of extra treatment for his students before telling Azul and Malleus that they were brave “but unfashionably reckless” in pushing you in.

When you woke up, Azul was in tears. It was a bit of a sight, especially for everyone who came by to see you. He squeezed you so hard you thought you were going to choke haha. But nonetheless, you were confused but happy to see him and get a hug from him when you woke up. He didn’t tell you what happened, but you did hear mentions of a demon possession from time to time around the Lounge.

Kalim

Similar to Azul, Crowley isn’t there. He was probably out on some party downtown, or maybe he fled after he felt the magical pressure you exerted. Kalim felt hopeless, should he just give up, curl up and cry? No, he had to save you, and perhaps the only way to do that would be to go back and fight you himself

He ran back, back to his dorm and realized so much of the building was already in tears. You weren’t anywhere to be found though, but then he saw a spark far out in the desert. Jamil had taken the fight to the desert. Kalim, calling for his carpet, flew there and found a smoky figure hovering over you and Jamil on the sand.

“Jamil!” Kalim shouted, but there was no response. He...he couldn’t be dead, right? Kalim dropped from the carpet and stood in front of you. You sneered, snapping at him to get out of your way. “No, I’m not letting you hurt Jamil,” Kalim said, eyes determined. You seemed to get angry, getting ready to hit you, but right when you were about to slap him out of your way, he ran up and hugged you.

Chernabog wasn’t expecting that, as seen by how you froze up. He squeezed you tightly in his arms. “Y/n, I know you’re in there somewhere, I’m sorry you’re going through this. I’m not going to let you be taken by this thing, you’re better than that!” Kalim said, tears sliding down his cheeks. You writhed in his grasp, it seemed that Chernabog for some reason couldn’t use his magic to push him off. Kalim just held onto you as long as he could, until the sun’s rays began to shine into the desert.

With that, suddenly you let out a scream, the smoke disappeared, and you fell into his arms. “Y/n!” Kalim shouted, carefully holding you. The fight seemed to be over. With that, he took you and Jamil to the infirmary, and Jamil woke up a few minutes afterwards with a lot of bandages wrapped around him. “Thanks for saving me,” Kalim told Jamil, but he just shook his head and said it was his job. Meanwhile with you, it took you three days to wake up, but Kalim didn’t leave your side, sometimes forgetting to eat.

When you finally woke up, he was ecstatic and nearly knocked you out as he lunged for a hug. You laughed, asking what had happened, to which he explained in tears that you were possessed by something, but you were fine now because Jamil saved you. “Ah, correction, Kalim saved you,” Jamil commented from his hospital bed. Either way, Kalim didn’t let you go for a long time, just happy that you were back

Vil

He didn’t think the fight was going to be this long, but then again, Vil was just a student but he was skilled in magic. He took the fight outside, near the forests of Pomefiore. Perhaps it would be better for defense, but even then it felt unsafe as he couldn’t see you sometimes. This caused him to be tossed from side to side during the fight.

Vil’s hair was disheveled, he could taste blood in his mouth. He saw you laughing from afar, ready to throw another ball of fire in his direction. “N-no, you’re not...winning like this,” he muttered and threw another spell to make you go flying backwards. But then, a sliver of an arrow flew passed your head. It was Rook.

“Rook, stay out of this! It’s dangerous!” Vil shouted, trying to get up but falling back, his ribcage hurt so badly. “Non, I think you should fall back,” Rook countered, taking out another arrow. “I have an idea on how to take the creature holding y/n hostage,” Rook continued. He aimed, something was on the arrow but Vil wasn’t sure what.

The arrow was wrapped in what looked like a silver necklace, perhaps a charm that could counter this “Chernabog” that was possessing you? Before Vil could ask Rook what he was doing, he shot and nearly aimed at your heart.

The smoke suddenly flew up, shouting in pain and trying to charge at them, but a few inches away from Vil he stopped and fell. The smoke disappeared. You, on the other hand, fell over. “Good, I thought that the Yen Sid charm I got would work,” Rook shrugged. “The what?” Vil asked, and Rook looked over at the dorm leader. “Ah, it was a legend that Yen Sid fended off Chernabog in the past, who knows though, I thought it was just a tale.”

Vil, with the help of Rook, helped you get to the infirmary as fast as possible. Vil himself however was placed in a hospital bed alongside you. He couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning in his bed and wondering if you were okay behind the separation curtain. Thankfully, the next day, you woke up and looked alright, Vil broke into tears as he hugged you, a rare sight for everyone including you. He didn’t say why you were here, but he just kissed you on the head and said he was happy you were alright.

Idia

“Come back you wannabe y/n!” he shouted, and that caused the smoke figure hovering over you to cause your legs to stop. It looked back. Idia had been shouting at it all kinds of insults that he had learned from the lobbies of all the games he had played. Thankfully, it seemed to have worked since you weren’t going after Overblots.

“You want to fight? Let’s see how strong you are then,” your voice was distorted, but the magic building up was nothing to make fun of. Idia readied himself for the fight. He wasn’t the best at magic, but his technology skills were unmatched. With that, he decided to find a way to teleport you, perhaps you would do badly in the sun?

While he was fumbling with some magical device, he kept defending himself from your attacks. He hid behind multiple building parts, sometimes behind trees. He sometimes tried to hit you with simple magic, but it did nothing but make you stronger, so he stopped that. Finally, after some tweaking on the watch he had brought with him to the fight, it was ready to send you somewhere else.

“Follow me,” Idia glared at the demon, and right when it was charging, he opened up a portal and the two (three?) of you fell into a different location. You were all at what looked like Leona’s hometown, far more sunny than what Idia was used to. But this was good, as clearly you didn’t like the sun. You began to scream, shout profanities and the smoke burned up and turned to ashes.

With that, you fainted, you fell to the ground but Idia ran to catch you. He held you in his arms, stuttering if you were okay. With that, he teleported the two of you to the infirmary of the school and tried to explain what happened to the nurse. “Wellsoademonshowedupandpossessedy/nbutitwasn’tgoodwiththesunandthankfullyitdidn’tfindanyoftheotheroverblotedstudentsorharmanyoneandI’mjustscaredthaty/nwon’tbealrightand-“ “Okay just take a long rest,” the nurse stopped him.

Idia couldn’t sleep, he kept sitting next to you, he wasn’t even able to watch an anime on his phone because of how worried he was. When you finally woke up the next day, he breathed a sigh of relief and hugged you, telling you welcome back. “From what? What happened?” you asked him. But Idia didn’t say anything, he just said that he’s glad you’re safe. When you two return to Idia’s room, you two snuggle under blankets and play Animal Crossing.

Malleus

Malleus wasn’t confident in his magic, but then again, he was skilled enough that he could match against Chernabog. He was fighting against you, no, the smoke behind you was the target. As he shot lightning at the smoke, he kept being hit with different kinds of magic.

Thankfully, Lilia appeared on the scene, shouting at Malleus if he was alright. “So, it is real,” Lilia looked over at you and up at Chernabog, who was grinning at the two students. Lilia took out his magic pen, and began to help Malleus in defense.

“What would be a weakness of Chernabog, I’m not sure if it was in the scrolls that we read,” Malleus asked Lilia, shooting a counter attack at your fireball. Lilia didn’t respond for a bit, before he said two words. “Bell chimes.” With that, he quickly looked out the window and at the tower that held the bells. It was far, but perhaps you could be led towards it safely?

“I’ll fly there, Lilia I’ll need your help as well,” Malleus told Lilia and began to run out of the woods and towards the school. He then was able to fly upwards, looking behind him and seeing you do the same. Things were going in plan, and when Malleus got close enough to the tower to hit it with his lightning spell, he used as much magic as he had to cause the bells to chime three times. You halted in the air, the smoke suddenly freezing up and writhing as the bells chimed. The lightning caused a flash across campus, causing everyone to wake up. But more importantly, it was causing Chernabog to scream, curse at Malleus, and finally leave your body.

Lilia caught you as he was behind Malleus and Chernabog, then the two Diasomnia students ran to the infirmary. The two asked the nurse if you would be alright, and they had told them that you would be okay. “But I’m so confused, what happened?” the nurse asked, but the two didn’t say anything. Malleus didn’t leave your side, and it looked like he could overblot in any minute because of how concerned he was about your health. Lilia left to inform Sebek and Silver what happened, saying he would come to visit you and Malleus in the morning.

Thankfully, you woke up the next day, saying you felt like you blacked out. Malleus sighed a breath of relief, and for the first time, you saw him shed a few tears. “Ah, don’t worry about me, my love, I’m just glad you’re alright,” he explained, brushing some hair strands out of your face. He didn’t tell you exactly what happened, but maybe he will later on. For now, he just enjoyed your company, holding your hand as you rested in the hospital bed.

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luimagines · 3 years ago

Text

Waking Up Next to Him

Masterlist

Set platonically and within the adventure. It’s long so it goes under the cut!

Time

The bright sunlight winked just beyond your eyelids at an blinding angle. Your back was against warm though and was surprisingly comfortable despite the growing ache in your neck. There’s a weight over your shoulder, pinning you in place but doesn’t dig in. A thrown blanket is covering your body and the secret weight, even if half of it has ended up on the forest floor. You’re too tired to think of what the weight can be. All you know is that it’s comfortable and you don’t feel like moving. A heartbeat passes and the solid form on which you lay shifts.

A groan.

More shifting.

Heat flushes your face slightly as you resign to get up, trying to play the whole cool, once you realize what, or rather who you passed out against.

“Mornin’ Time.”

Your pillow takes a minute to assess the situation.

It’s early, none of the others are up yet. Too tired from the journey the day prior, but the resident chef wakes up the earliest to cook breakfast on time. He’s asleep now but won’t be for long. You thank the stars and your luck that you woke up before him. No pictures for him to take this time.

Time grins, seemingly unbothered by the events and sighs good naturedly. “Good morning.”

Twilight

It was a cold night. They told you it would be. Both your traveling companions and the breeze as you settled with the day’s end.

But you couldn’t have guessed how cold it turned out to be.

Sleep didn’t come easy. Discomfort and shivers kept you awake. Your blankets were warm but not warm enough. At some point, in the middle of the night, you gain the warmth your tired brain was waiting for before drifting off to sleep.

When you wake, you can’t breath.

Hairs tickle your mouth and nose and there’s a large and heavy being on top of you. At first you think it’s Wind because the shape is much to large to be four but smaller than some of your other companions.

Further analysis and you realize that it’s not hair but fur, that’s threating to enter your lungs and the color of the material seems awfully familiar.

“...Wolfie, I love you but you’re killing me. Get off.” You weakly push the beast away, not coherent enough to move your limbs and piece together how to be a functioning human yet.

The creatures blinks up at you, having just woken up as well and notices your open eyes. A yawn and crushed ribbed where he stepped to get off later and your freedom has been duel earned.

You take a breath of relief and grin, only now noticing the cold with the rising sun to be a little more barrable than the previous night.

“Thanks buddy, you’re a walking heater. I probably would have been a popsicle if it hadn’t been for you.” He nods in acknowledgment and swiftly turns away before you can reach behind his ears to thank him properly.

You look up and see Wild and Time already awake, not talking. Warrior looks to just have woken like you today. Not unusual but welcoming nonetheless. Wind and Sky probably won’t wake up for another hour or two and Hyrule and Four always wake up a little after them. No one knows for sure when Legend will get up because its never consistent and Twilight seems to be missing as well.

The ranch hand emerges from the tree line seconds after you realize he was gone to begin with. He smiles at you and waves in greeting.

You wave back and try to dust the wolf hairs off of your clothes.

You missed Twilight’s subtle smirk.

Warrior

It was a hard fight and not a safe place to stay put but the dungeon left you with little option. Separated from the group and low on provisions and healing items, you and Warrior realize that your both running low on fumes. Taking refuge in a secluded corner, hopefully far away from any potential monsters and threats, you rest.

Waking up is hell.

Sleeping back to back was probably not the best idea but neither of you wanted to risk an ambush. Shifts were supposed to be taken but given that you both fell asleep says something about your energy levels and the previous fights.

Your neck hurts, your legs are sore, your butt and hips are not thanking you for the treatment and everything ache will familiar but expected battle wounds. None major but each one takes its toll.

“You up?” Warrior stands up as if he wasn’t bleeding from the shoulder yesterday and he also didn’t sleep sitting for who knows how many hours.

“I am clearly sitting Captain.” You mutter. “I am not up. I refuse to be up.”

“You know as well as I do that we have to get to the others. What if they need help?”

“I’d argue we need the help. Everything hurts. We have no fairies and there’s more dungeon ahead of us with obviously more enemies and traps and puzzles...” The puzzles... were the worst. “Just five more minutes....Please?”

Warrior says your name in a way a tired mother tries to get her stubborn child to listen to reason. His face twists at the idea and when he attempts to look over his shoulder to check your surroundings, it instead contorts in a pained grimace.

So his shoulder pain was still there after all.

“Fine. Five minutes.”

Sky

As expected, Sky goes down for the count within the first few minutes of the mandated lunch break. Unfortunately after a rumble or two and strange smoke coming from the distance that decidedly wasn’t there when you first arrived, the group decided to investigate.

Legend goes to shake Sky’s shoulder in an attempt to wake him but it’s all in vain.

Sticks are drawn after a long and loud argument about what to do and yours in the shortest.

Everyone else goes to check out the commotion and you are stuck with babysitting duty. It’s not bad all things considered- he’s asleep- no actual babysitting happening. But part of you can help but grumble about missing the action so you sit non too gently next to him and decidedly not pout.

Your stomach is full and the sun light begins to feel heavy and warm and nice.

Your eyes close before you can fight it.

Some time later, you’re shaken awake. Adrenaline fills your system instantly but upon seeing the laughing face of Sky himself, you remember yourself and only marginally resist the urge punch him.

“Feel better?” You ask instead.

“I could ask you the same thing.” He chuckles and points to his chin.

You wipe across the area and your hands comes back wet, cold and covered in drool.

“You saw nothing.”

“Oh sure, but Wind did.”

Great.

Now it’s on his pictobox. That’s blackmail material in his favor, you suppose and refuse to acknowledge it further.

Wild

When you wake up, it’s still dark. Not even close to sunrise.

The fire burns bright and warm throughout the area but it’s not the fire that’s keeping you warm.

You also find out you can’t move.

You crane your head slightly to find long hair draped over your shoulder and a familiar scarred ear belonging to the resident champion.

He wrapped around you completely, hugging you tightly and pining you down with a leg to boot.

You attempt to shimmy out but his grip tightens instead.

You sighed and watch as Twilight comes into view. He crouches closer and squats on Wild’s side, whispering to you. “Do you need help getting out? I can wake him to take over Hyrule’s shift for the night.”

You take a minute to rethink about your position. It’s not painful. The opposite actually. It feel nice. You’ve seen Wild cling to who ever he can get his hands on when he sleeps so you’re not surprise.

You don’t need to pee or leave anytime soon anyway.

“No, I think I’m good actually.” You reply, whispering as well. “Let him sleep, it’s been a day for everyone.”

Twilight nods and leaves, but not without looking back once or twice in case you changed your mind.

You shimmy back in place and allow yourself to be held by your friend.

Sleep comes easier this time.

Hyrule

Gentle fingers card through your hair. Warmth, magic and the unusual feeling of safety plague your mind. Confusion hits you but the alarm that typically follows never comes.

“Oh thank goodness, you’re awake.” A voice fills your ears. It’s muffled and must have been quiet to begin with because you can’t make out who said it yet.

Organizing your thoughts feels like traveling through knee high mud.

Your eyes blink open and the light comes through.

The Traveler is leaning over you, thankfully blocking out most of the sun from immediately assaulting you.

“Hyrule?”

“You had us worried for a minute.” He visually sags with relief, a tired smile on his face and leans back. “You took quite a hit.”

Your head feels swollen but as Hyrule continues to push your hair back it dissipates as time passes. Your thoughts clear and with his help, you sit up.

A hand places itself by your temple. It takes a half second before you realize it’s yours.

It comes back covered in dried blood.

Sky runs over after tending to Four with what looks like a bloodied wet cloth. He sits down slowly and begins to clean your head in a familiar fashion.

“Thank you. Both of you.” You tired voice comes through and a worn out smile follows soon after.

“Anytime.”

Wind

It’s nice day.

According to some people.

Dark clouds cover the sky, the sun nowhere to be seen. It pours cats and dogs and the only cover for miles is a lone cave where your group currently takes up residence. Everyone’s wet and your clothes feel heavy and cold. No one is happy.

Wild, Twilight and Legend dive deeper, intending to check out if any monsters reside in the cave.

Hyrule insisted on traveling with them but Warrior’s concussion and Time’s bleeding leg call for further attention and Legend claims to have more magic restorative potions than healing potions.

He stays behind.

Four and Sky take over the food while he’s distracted, trying to make a half decent meal before he intervenes.

Wind is groaning, sore and bored but otherwise unharmed.

You don’t make any comments at your own pain, biting your tongue and taking a deep breath. As you lean against the stone wall, Wind stomps up next to you and sits down with purpose.

“I could’ve gone with them.” He slams his fist into his cheek with his elbow on his knee.

“But you didn’t. It’s not so bad.” You said.

“They didn’t want me to go.”

“You’ll live.”

“I’m just as good as them you know.”

“I know and you make a better pillow.” You says, throwing yourself sideways with your head landing on his lap. He squawks indignantly and attempts to push you off but you hold on. “Sorry, you make the best pillow.”

“NOOOO!”

“YEEEESSS!”

“Nooooo.” Wind keeps his hands on your back but you’ve misjudged your exhaustion. You’re out in seconds.

A moment passes.

“Hey, hey, hey.... wake up. You have to eat.” A small hand shakes your shoulder.

“Hm?” You blinked tiredly. There’s a bowl if front of your face and you don’t hesitate to grab it. “Thanks.”

“You’re heavy.” A voice calls from behind. The owner lets you take the bowl and begins to gently push you off into a sitting position. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“It was supposed to be a joke but thanks for letting me sleep.” You admit and smile at the pirate.

“You trapped me.” He pokes your side, trying to look annoyed but falling flat. There’s a joke in there somewhere. You’re missing something.

The others have come back while you were out of it, all either have hidden smiles or failing to hide their shaking shoulders and snickers.

Curious and a little self conscious you looks into the provided meal, your reflection greeting you as always.

A lightbulb goes off over your head.

“DID YOU DRAW ON MY FACE?!”

Four

There’s a force dragging you down but there’s two arms under you.

It’s very concerning for a moment but then....the size of them catches up to you.

Your head snaps up and comes face to face with a very surprised Four.

“Hello.”

“...Hi.”

“Lovely weather we’re having, don’t you think?””

“You’re leading with that?” Four snorts and continues walking, unbothered by your weight in his arms.

“How...?” You trail off trying to find the right words to explain what happening to you. You don’t feel any pain and nothing feels injured....but the lack of memories is a little concerning.

“How am I holding you?” Four smirks as he guesses incorrectly. “I’m stronger than I look.”

“I was going to ask how did I fall unconscious. I don’t remember anything. I’m more surprised by that than the fact that you’re holding me despite being half my size.” You blinked and try to keeping searching through your memory.

Nothing comes up.

“Wizrobe.” Four answers causally with a shrug. “It caused some chaos, fought another wizrobe and you got caught in the cross fire between the two of them before we could intervene. Their attacks canceled each other out well enough that you weren’t actually injured but uhh..... Well I suppose you’ll figure it out sooner or later.”

“Four.” You glare in warning.

“Maybe don’t look at your reflection for a while. Legend, Twilight and Hyrule all agree that it’ll fade with time but...”

“What are you talking about? What happened to me?” You sit up a little in his grip, Your arm reach over his shoulders and something wrong catches your eyes.

Your skin is green.

Your shocked silence stills your entire body. Four winces once he follows your eye line and stops to place you on your own feet.

“It could be worse?”

You stare a little while longer and look back to Four with hopeful eyes. “Think you can knock me out again?

He’s not amused.

Legend

You blissfully wake up for the first time in a week.

It’s been an easy week in terms of travel and attacks so the boys take it upon themselves to cause trouble and it hasn’t been merciful to your sleep schedule.

They are the very incarnation of that thing your hometown friend used to say. How did it go again? If there’s no trouble then I’ll create it? Something along those lines.

But this is different and you don’t plan on wasting it.

You close your eyes and attempt to go back to sleep while you can but hushed voices reached your ears, keeping you awake before you can tune them out.

“Should we wake them?”

“You know how Legend is. He can be as bad as Sky and he had a rough night to boot.”

“But he’s right on top of them and they promised to show me how to fight in hand to hand combat.”

“You have all day for that and they didn’t say it was going to be today.”

“But I‘m excited! I want to start as soon as possible.”

“Will you idiots keep it down?” A voice by your shoulder speaks up. It lacks the usual snark it posses but the intention for venom is there. “Some people took double shifts last night. Shut up.”

You breath a small sigh of relief as the voices abruptly cut off and don’t return for a long minute.

The body next to you stills.

Three heartbeats pass and the unnoticed weight gets off of you.

You pretend to be asleep still, not wanting him to push you away so early in your relationship. He’s just started to get used to you.

You’re determined to be his friend before everything ends.

He’s determined to avoid that.

It’s been a battle of wills.

An unstoppable force meets an unmovable object.

But this could tip the scales in his favor if you fail to play it off correctly.

“No one say anything.” Legend hisses. “Not. One. Word.”

You make the mistake of stretching.

“You’re up! You’re up! You’re up!” Wind practically pounces on you, knocking his name sake out of your lungs and demolishing any chances for a peaceful morning. “We can start now!”

“Can I eat first at least?” You groan out, not bothering to fight him off.

“Wind. Off.” Time calls out and the boy follows the command without question. He quickly kneels by your side though, practically vibrating on the spot.

You sit up and look around.

Looks like you were the last one up.

“Morning everybody.” You smile. You glance at Legend who unluckily has the tips of his ears tinted red. His arms are crossed and he’s avoiding looking at you, even greeting you as the rest of the group return your call.

You smirk. “Good morning Legend. Did you sleep well?”

He huffs and turns away completely, taking a few steps to leave.

You get to your feet, shadowed by Wind and head to take your share of the food from Wild.

A beat passes without any words exchanged and you tilted your head innocently at the Veteran. You refuse to let it be awkward between you so you pretend you know nothing.

The blush travels down his ears to his face and neck. “I did. Thanks for asking.”

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #this one is a long one #but they're all going to be like this #when I started this I thought I would be biased #and it would easy to tell who were my favoites #but I was pleasantly surprised. by the end

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beannary · 2 years ago

Text

Blue and Green

Douxie and Strickler have a chance meeting in 1800s London.

ao3 link

If there’s one thing that Hisirdoux has learned over the centuries, it’s that when you’re a kid on the streets, it's best to not stay alone. There’s always someone bigger and meaner out there, who's more than willing to fight you for the last piece of bread or a roof to sleep under. But having someone to back you up makes you more of a threat, no matter how scrawny and scraggly you are. And as a kid, the best place to find that companion was in other street kids.

Sure Hisirdoux doesn’t consider himself to be a kid anymore, but despite being over six hundred years old he still appears as if he’s a youth So as he walks the streets of whatever town or settlement he’s found himself in, he tends to keep an eye out for others like him.

It was foolish of him to think he would be just fine going back to England without any sort of plan. Oh sure, Hisirdoux, it’s only been six hundred years, how much could it have changed? Well as he stands in the streets of 1800s London, with not a clue where to find employment or shelter, apparently it has changed a lot. Of course he was used to sleeping on the streets, but it was a shock nonetheless to find his home country so completely alien to him.

But the only reason he happened to wander down various alleyways was because he had been so lost, so perhaps his stupidness was a blessing in disguise.

The sun had long since set, and the stars twinkled high above. Or at least, Hisirdoux assumed that the stars were in the sky. With all the smog it was almost impossible to see anything but the moon, and even that was blocked by a thick layer of smoke.

Fatigue pulls at his muscles as he searches for a place to rest. Though the longer he searches the more it appears as if nearly all sheltered areas are already taken, the local homeless already having claimed all the prize spots. But as he turns a corner, Hisirdoux sighs in relief as he blessedly finds an empty alleyway. Or a nearly empty alleyway, he corrects as he spots a small boy hidden in the shadows.

Not wanting to startle the boy, Hisirdoux makes a point of making some noise as he walks closer. The boy looks up at him with startling green eyes, but says nothing of the elders presence.

“May I join you?” Hisirdoux asks, gesturing to an empty space next to the boy. Only after receiving a nod in response does Hisidroux gingerly sit down, crossing his legs to make a space for Archie to lay down in his lap.

The brick wall he leans against is uncomfortable, and the stone pathway digs into his legs, but it’s better than standing, so Hisirdoux tries to make himself comfortable enough to doze off. He’s not sure how long he’s been asleep for when he wakes, feeling sudden movement next to him. He only just manages to stop himself from activating his rune bracer as he sees the boy staring up at him, eyes wide with his hand outstretched towards Archie.

The boy retracts his hand as soon as Hisirdoux’s eyes open, his face flushing a bright red. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, and Hisirdoux feels his insides melt.

“It’s alright,” he reassures him. “You can pet him if you would like to, he’s quite friendly.”

The boy hesitates, eyes flicking between Archie and Hisirdoux, before he tentatively reaches out a hand and carefully places it on Archie’s back. As Archie relaxes into the touch, the boy seems to gain confidence, and begins petting him gently.

“He’s soft,” the boy says with awe. “I’ve never met a cat before.”

Hisirdoux raises an eyebrow. “Never?”

The boy shrugs. “Never met a nice cat.”

“Well now you have,” Hisirdoux laughs. “Archie is the nicest cat I’ve ever met.”

The boy looks at Archie very seriously, and extends his hand. “It’s nice to meet you Archie, my name is Walter.”

Archie cocks his head, shooting Hisirdoux an amused look, before turning back to the boy- Walter, he corrects, and gently places his paw in the outstretched hand.

Walter frowns curiously as he feels Archie’s paw. “Why are his hands so rough on the bottom?”

“To protect him when walking on the ground,” Hisirdoux explains. He places his hand on the ground and presses down, feeling bits of stone and debris press into the flesh of his palm. “See,” he says, lifting his hand to show Walter. “If the bottom was soft like our hands then it would hurt him to walk”

“Oh they’re like our shoes,” Walter says.

“Exactly,” Hisirdoux smiles. “You’re quite smart, aren’t you?”

Walter shrugs. “I suppose so. My dad,” he wrinkles his nose in distaste, “is a cobbler. So I know shoes.”

“That’s pretty useful.”

“Only when I have the right tools. Can’t even fix this little hole on my own,” Walter lifts his foot up and picks at a tiny hole in the bottom of the shoe.

“You could always ask to borrow some tools, or steal them if push comes to shove.”

“I tried stealing,” Walter frowns. “I’m none too good at it like this though,” he picks at his ratty clothes.

“Well, have you tried asking?”

Walter looks at him like he’s stupid, making Hisirdoux laugh. “Don’t knock it till you try it. People will oftentimes be more willing to lend you a helping hand if you look small and vulnerable.”

“Maybe so, but it’s…demeaning,” Walter spits out.

Hisirdoux shrugs. “Perhaps, but it’s worth having food, shelter, and other necessities isn’t it?”

“...I suppose.”

“But if that’s not your style, well sticky fingers and all that,” he says while wiggling his fingers.

Walter rolls his eyes. “I already told you, I tried stealing and it didn’t work. I keep getting caught.”

“Ah but now you have someone to watch your back,” Hisirdoux says as he places a hand on Walter’s shoulder.

Walter’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “You’d help me steal the tools?”

Hisirdoux nods. “Might as well, haven’t got anything better to do at the moment.”

“And what would you want in return?” Walter asks, distrust clearly written on his face.

“Well if you could repair my own shoes then we’ll call it even,” Hisirdoux says as he sticks his hand out towards Walter.

For a moment Hisirdoux expects Walter to reject his proposition. But then a small hand with a surprisingly strong grip shakes his hand. “Alright, deal.”

#my writing #tales of arcadia #trollhunters #toa wizards #hisirdoux #walter strickler #realized i never posted this to tumblr #go check out my writing!#its good i think!#and even if its not good you should still reblog it because it would make me happy #also im working on a pt 2 to this hehe

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auty-ren · 4 years ago

Text

Salvation

Prologue

Pairings: The Mandalorian x Reader. Din Djarin x Reader. Mand’alor!Mando x Reader.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Canon-type violence. Mentions of death/injury. Canon divergency. Yearning. Panic and similar themes. The teensiest bit of steamy stuff.

A/N: We’re just getting started babes and holy shit I'm so excited for Mand'alor!Mando. We get to see the best of both worlds! Clan Leader Mando + Dark!Mando. Enjoy💗

Salvation Masterlist | My Masterlist

There was a vice that kept hold of your being, suspended between two planes of existence as you sat helpless to watch time pass at an agonizing pace. It filled you with dread, a heavy and pulling weight that settled in your stomach and had you glued to the floor; praying that the next thrum of violence that waged outside your door would be softer.

You hoped and pleaded every second you sat cowering in your home wouldn't be in vain, that something good would come of the war that had been building in weeks prior. The violence that crept over your village somewhat overnight, an uneasiness that settled between neighbors, and had people barricading their doors with fear.

You squeezed your palms tighter over your ears at the shrill sound of gunfire piercing through the walls of your home. The ground felt alive with footfalls and the impact fire, defeating sounds muffled between layers of durasteel were all you could hear, save for a few lost words that winded aimlessly through the air.

From your window you made out a figure that streamed across the sky; their form bulky and unnatural around the faint release of a jetpack that followed behind them.

Mandalorians had been passing through your village for as long as you could remember. Quiet and brooding warriors who often demanded very little and hardly left a trace that they had ever stepped foot in your town. You felt nothing but respect, considering that all your life you had seen the kindness that had been disguised behind layers of beskar and tall-tales of savage upbringings. As a child, you remember them speaking so softly to you, something that clashed with their demeanor and the heavy blasters that often rested on their hips.

There was never trouble, any thug that had made their way into your village was soon left scrambling at the sight of your guardians. No one ever dared to speak a harsh word in their presence, and your people were left with safe and warm homes that prospered when it felt the Galaxy was falling apart.

Mandalorians had protected you all of your life. But now you wanted more than anything for them to disappear, to fade away like the final wisps of smoke from dying embers.

You just wanted the noise to stop.

Your eyes had dried beyond the point of tears, streaks of their remnants covered your face and left your skin feeling raw and tacky as your eyes squeezed shut. You heaved a dry sob as the walls of your home shook again, tremors vibrating at the ends of your fingertips as they scraped across the floor. Your joints ache from sitting so long, from trembling in the corner of your home as the only way to seek shelter.

There is a heavy thump that breaks through the noise, something solid that lands over your head. You can hear the unmistakable sound of footfalls as they walk across your ceiling, each step like a knife that twists deeper and deeper into an already gushing wound. Your grasp for anything you can reach, the leg of the table next to you, a book that had fallen from your desk, anything to ward off whatever was making its way to your front door. You felt pathetic, sure that whoever would burst into your home in the next seconds would find joy in the way your hands shook as you held them up in front of you, your only defense.

The weight that you had been holding in your shoulders came crashing down at the sound of a masked voice coming from your door. The shadow of their legs briefly visible through the gap in the door as lights flashed behind them, gunfire ringing through the small room as they barked a message about ‘Imps’ into their commlink.

‘Imperials’ they called themselves, led by the magistrate elect to ‘relieve our town from the clutches of oppressive rulers,’ or so they put it. Suddenly your town was full of strangers, of mercenaries with nasty tendencies that left you hesitant to leave your doorstep. Your home was turned into a hellhole in a matter of weeks, warm and kind faces were replaced with snarling teeth that spit evil in your direction every time you faced them.

‘All in the name of progress.’

Destruction was the only thing that progressed in these short months, and Moff Gideon had no trouble thriving off every ounce of sacrifice he could squeeze from your town. Gideon had used any and all authority he had to wage war on the Mandalorians, the people you considered your protectors. You and nearly half of the village knew he was crazy for doing such a thing, for provoking the wrath of a people who had carved legends of war and battle into every corner of the Galaxy. All of this suffering because he was too greedy for something that was never his.

Your limbs were heavy by the time sunlight peered over the horizon, brief wisps of warmth dancing across your eyelids as you blinked awake from where you sat.

There was nothing but silence, heavy silence that was damning after a night of constant chaos. Early morning fog still lingered, your breath puffing in front of your face as you pulled yourself to stand. Your door was ripped open before you could even think, your only thought wanting to be able to witness whatever had been left in last night's wake.

The ground was firm and solid beneath your feet, your legs shaking as you stepped off the porch of your home and for the first time in forever everything was still. There was nothing but the faint shuffle of your feet across the ground, and the muffled conversations in the homes you passed by. It seemed you weren’t the only one who was curious; familar faces grew in number, their eyes wide and interested in the wreckage just as you were, everyone you met wondered what would become next. Some of them wept, holding whoever was closest as relief washed over them. Some of them celebrated, cheers echoing through streets as they basked in the absence of Imperials in their homes.

You stood, staring down an alley where the body of an Imperial laid unmoving in the dirt, their white armor smudged, cracking, and littering the wet ground. The reality of what had been happening only a few hours prior laid heavy on your chest, curling tight around your ribs until you felt there was no way to take a breath.

Your hands were shaking as you reached for your face, covering your lip as it trembled from swelling emotion and finally breaking away from the scene before you. You backtracked, fully intent on turning to run back the way you had come when you bumped into someone; their arm came up to grab yours, steadying you as their questions fell upon deaf ears. You stared at the woman before you, the brows knit in concern as she repeated her question.

“Are you alright?”

Everything was starting to bleed together, the sounds of people emerging from their homes suddenly became far too loud, and your awareness of where you stood punching you in the gut. You winced away from the woman, pulling your arm from her grip and ignoring how she called after you. Your lungs swelled with each heaving breath you took, the ground beneath you disappearing faster and faster as you tried to find your way home. Neighboring villagers found their ways into the streets, crowding alleyways and blocking your way home. You ran into a few of them, whispered apologies falling from your lips as you fought to hold yourself upright.

You needed to take a breath. You needed to slow down.

There was no distinction between the voice in your head and the concerned words of people you passed; friends, neighbors, all people you had known for most of your life.

They just want to help and part of you doesn't understand why you don't listen to them.

The ache that tears through your skull sends waves of nausea down your spine, your eyes blinking slowly at the dirt that sat just a few inches from your face. Your breath disturbed it, puffs of clay-colored soil swirling in front of you, and some of it landing on your cheeks.

You pushed yourself up onto your elbow, your entire side sore from how hard you had hit the ground. It was slow, your limbs feeling heavy and weighed even with adrenaline buzzing underneath your skin.

There was hardly any noise now, just a few whispers that danced between the crowds; the tail ends of sentences being lost as they shush themselves. You hear the scuffle of boots hitting the ground, their gate heavy and kicking up dirt in your peripheral. The dark-colored toe of someone's boot walks into your line of sight, you watch the leather come to a stop just a few inches from where your hand pressed into the mud. You followed the boot up the length of its owner’s body until you were met with the bulky visor of a beskar helmet, embers of the morning sun peeking out from behind the silver shine.

He offers his hand out to you, the ends of his gloves a bright orange that was weathered at the tips. The leather was worn but soft to the touch as his hand wrapped around yours, pulling you to your feet with just a little bit more force than necessary. Your hand shot out to brace yourself against his chest, your weight falling against the solid expanse of his cuirass as you huffed out a curse. Your head was still spinning as you clung to him, trying to find balance on your own two feet as you looked at the stranger. His armor looked new, bright, and unsoiled save for the dirt that smudged from where you had touched it; your eyes are drawn to the obnoxious color offset by the dark linen of his clothes. You mutter an apology, moving to separate yourself from him but find yourself trapped under the arm he used to steady you.

From the corner of your eye, you can see the other Mandos who are waiting on him. Their armors a deep matching blue with white accents on the face of their masks, they stood at attention as if they were waiting on their next command. You looked back at the man in front of you, who you assumed was their leader, your hand still laying on his chest and your faces even closer than they had been before.

His hand hesitated just a breath away from your face, his fingers twitching before he pushed strands of your hair out of your eyes, the leather of his glove tickling the shell of your ear. The knuckles of his fingers traced down your jaw, his touch light and curious as he studied you. His thumb stopped at the apex of your cheek and he drags the pad of it across the same spot of skin a few times, brushing off the dirt that had stuck to your face.

You could hardly breathe under his attention, your lungs burning from how long you waited in between small intakes of breath. His hand was still warm against your face, his other fingers flexing on the hold he kept around your waist. Every second dragged on as you looked at him, studied what little you could see from the layers he wore around his being. Oddly enough, it felt that he was doing the same to you, his gaze felt like a burn as it trailed along with your features, your chest feeling tight and your cheeks hot from how overwhelmed he made you.

And then he was gone.

His hold on you released and he turned back in the direction he had been walking, followed by the Mandos who had stopped and waited for him. They parted the crowds that had formed in the streets, their presence enough to leave anyone in standing back, awestruck just as you had been. You watched their forms disappear from your sight until finally they turned a corner, and you never saw them again.

It feels impossible to sleep that night.

Though it had only been a few months, the soured pit in your stomach was telling that memories of Imperials wouldn't fade so easily. There wasn't enough water to wash away the stain that their greed had left behind. Everyone seemed happy, smiling freely and feasting in celebration as the day turned to dusk, and as dusk turned to night you sat, staring at the ceiling of your home and buzzing with something you couldn't quite pin down. You studied the crack that had split that ran from one corner of your home to the next, fresh and taunting you with how you had been cowering beneath this roof only a day ago; watching the stone give way as the very foundation of your house shook. Just outside you could hear voices again; quiet, content voices that felt unfamiliar, almost out of place amongst the chaos that had been living recently.

How could it be over so quickly?

It only took a day, not even that. Your village was wiped clean, the only evidence that there had even been Imperials, were scraps that had been piled together throughout the streets. Pieces of equipment, armor, a couple of uniforms that had been discarded were all that was left of them. And most of it was being discarded without a second thought.

You had always heard stories of what Mandalorians could be capable of, but you had never believed them.

People liked to talk, to tell stories. It was easy to believe the tales of warrior races were just constructed, exaggerations of the true history of their people. But you were wrong. You hoped that you stayed wrong, that this wasn't temporary or even worse, a dream.

With every night that passed, it became easier, sleeping without worry you would wake up in hell all over again. It came over you slowly. Ease? Relief? Tranquility long enough for you to rest a few hours, then wake up to rebuild the life that had almost been taken from you. It finally felt safe. Safe to live, safe to breathe, safe to dream again.

But then all at once, it was swept out from under you and your heart plummeted when you answered the door to find two guards standing on your front steps.

“Can I help you?”

You noticed the way he ducked his head, his helmet cock-eyed when he looked at you to keep it from knocking with the frame of your doorway. He spoke very softly, almost gentle in the way he said your name; a stark contrast to the beaten, dull blue armor he wore and the heavy blaster strapped to his back. You looked over his shoulder at the female that followed him, her back was turned to you as she scanned the street in front of your home. She wasn’t as large as he was, but her armor was just as thick and a beautiful maroon color that glinted in the sun when she turned to face you.

They both waited for you to answer, turning to look at each other when you gave them a small nod, confirming that they had found who they were looking for.

“The Mand’alor has sent us for you.” The woman spoke, her tone clipped as she took a step closer. “Please. Come with us.”

Your fingernails dug into the softwood of the door frame, your skin burning from the way it dragged across the rough terrain until you released it, balling your fist at your side. You made no other attempt at moving, and neither did they.

There would be no point in arguing, you would never be able to outrun two Mandalorians, but it felt very tempting at that moment.

“The….Mand’alor?”

You had heard the name before, a few of the Mandalorians in town had spoken it in passing and while you had never asked them who or what it meant, it didn’t take a genius to figure it out.

They had asked for you by name, and they were too occupied to come and find you themselves.

You tried to wrack your brain for anything you could’ve done to cause this, of what could have upset someone to this point.

But then again, if they were upset, they probably would’ve just had you killed.

You looked behind you at the mess that was strewn across your room, crates of your belongings dumped in the tiny space and making it much smaller than it seemed. There was no telling where you were going, or how long you’d be gone but maybe you could take a few things with you.

“Can I have a minute please?”

You moved to shut the door, just wanting a little privacy to get a bag ready, but you were stopped when the female guard’s arm shot out, holding the frame still just a few inches before it would’ve closed.

“You don't need to take anything.” She huffed and pushed the door back open, stepping through the threshold to stand directly in front of you. “Come with us.”

You couldn't think of anything to say, not that she wanted a response from you, you just stood there staring at the two Mandalorians who crowded your doorway. She practically snarled an order at you, becoming increasingly impatient with how unresponsive you were.

“Now.”

Sometime later

“I-... I don't understand.”

He had you pinned, backed into a wall that you wished would open up and swallow you whole. Your face burned with shame but you couldn't figure out from what. From him? From how close he stood to you? From how every word that dripped from his lips was sweet? Like thick, sugary honey that became far more addictive than any spice you ever heard of; and you were glutenous in wanting more of those delicious words that he seemed so confident saying.

Shamefully so.

“Don't worry about such things.”

His thumb ran delicately over the bottom of your lip, tracing down until he held your chin in between it and his forefinger. He tipped your face to look up at him, his knuckles brushing across your throat as his hand fell to your chest. His fingers splayed across your exposed skin, his gloves are warm and soft as they made their way back up and finally wrapped around your neck.

“You're here now.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers flexed, his grip almost ghosting, as if he was afraid you'd break under any pressure.

You wished you could see his face, the blank stare of his visor did not indicate what he was thinking; though you imagined he was enjoying this from the way he touched you. He was like molten that left your skin burning in its wake, your heart fluttering as he moved over every inch that was shown to him. He held your jaw in the palm of his hand, his helmet coming only a hairbreadth away from your face; your breath puffing clouds of condensation on the smooth surface.

“You're mine.”

A/n pt2: I’ll give a sticker to whoever can guess who the female guard Mando was lol

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astralis01 · 3 years ago

Text

Rivalry (Isn’t it Bitter Sweet): Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Your feud with Bakugou Katsuki only escalated throughout your years at Hogwarts; whether it was on the quidditch field or who would be the first to sit down in class, there always seemed to be some sort of raging competition between you two.

Read it here on AO3

You could feel his presence from across the dining hall, immediately dowsing you in a raging hatred that you only reserved for him. His arrogance mocked you as he basically danced into the Great Hall bathed in compliments.

The Slytherin quidditch team won against Ravenclaw the night before. You didn’t know why he had all of the glory… he wasn’t even the captain. Being a keeper had its perks, you guessed. You rolled your eyes and focused your attention on your food. You tried not to stab the plate as you heard the varying praises to the boy in green and silver.

And what annoyed you the most was the herd that he always seemed to have around the place he sat. Varying from girls to boys, from Slytherin itself to the other houses too.

Stab, you picked up a piece of broccoli from your plate as you heard, "Wow, Tsuki, the last save was so cool."

Pierce, “That last block was brilliant!”

And that was the last straw for you. Who had even given the very, obviously bright idea of making the Gryffindors and Slytherins almost sit together?

Katsuki Bakugou was simply not someone who deserved such compliments. He was vile, annoying, and did everything in his limited power to poke and prod at every single one of your nerves. You used to ignore the burning hatred that you harboured for him; but late in your second year, you had let it all out.

And, as it turned out, he wasn’t quite fond of you either.

It had been years since then, yet the feeling remained the same. It was just the start of your sixth year and you already wanted to gouge his eyes out with the pointy end of your fork.

Hanta Sero caught your eye from across the tables and gave you a cheeky smile in return and the rage which had simmered down a bit rose again with a vengeance. He was the captain of the other team and you wished you could hate him as much as him. But he was quite fun to be around when he wasn't hanging out with that loser.

Though before you could get up from your place in the hall, Shouto Todoroki stopped you, holding your hands and preventing you from getting off your seat.

You turned to look at him, with the most terrible glare you could offer but he just gave you the most unimpressed look and pulled you down to sit beside him again, still holding your hand and preventing you from charging at the Slytherin table.

Then a young Slytherin, probably a first-year piped out, "Next week at the Gryffindor versus Slytherin match, you guys are sure to win."

Shouto's grip faltered and you grinned. One thing that annoyed Shouto the most, perhaps, after his father was the fact when someone insulted the Gryffindor Quidditch team that he was a proud member of.

And that was the moment you needed to charge towards the Slytherin table before any of your other friends tried to put an intervention to your actions.

"I wouldn't be too sure, you know, we have a pretty good team this year," you said, casually leaning on the table.

"And why would that stop us from winning, Captain? We have a pretty good team this year, perhaps the best," Sero drawled out, almost stretching onto the table like a tabby cat and you just wanted to slap the smirk off his face.

And before you could put that thought into action, Izuku Midoriya, came and dragged you away back to the table, so you yelled back, "Next week, we'll surely be the winners.”

"We'll see," Bakugou said.

Perhaps five years ago, you wanted to be friends with Katsuki, but now Katsuki and you were bitter enemies.

It started in the first year when you met with Katsuki and Izuku on the train.

As soon as Katsuki entered the train cart you sat in, he dozed off and Izuku came rushing in, apologizing for 'Kachaan's' manners. You laughed it off and invited him to sit with you and you two spent the train ride talking to each other, making friends when suddenly the announcement to be ready to get off at the station sounded off.

"Kachaan, wake up. We're here. We're here at Hogwarts."

"Shut up Deku."

You frowned at the interaction but you forwarded a hand towards him and said, "Hello, I am-"

"No need to tell me you shitty extra," and he walked out on the both of you.

Izuku tried to apologize for his actions but you shushed him and dragged him out with you to climb aboard the boats.

And perhaps, that was the start of your bitter rivalry.

The ending of the second year was when you finally cracked the nut in the middle of Charms class and told him off in the middle of class, in front of everyone. This is why you were put in Gryffindor, a small part of your mind thought.

(another part of your mind had thought that you shouldn't have done that and perhaps you might be at the very least allies today.)

"For Merlin's sake, can you stop shouting for a moment? This," gesturing towards his mouth, "is getting super annoying. Don't you ever get tired of shouting so much, all the time?"

And an awkward silence blanketed the class as everyone quieted down to watch the fight between you two.

Bakugou slowly turned red and then shouted, "This is getting annoying? Well, your presence is getting annoying but do you see me screaming at you to fuck off all the time, you prissy prick?"

You turned at him with the vilest look and said, "If you are going to be an idiot, you should actually try to be subtle about it."

Katsuki froze and said, "Funny you should say it."

“You’re so ridiculous.” You rolled your eyes. “Oh, I’m Katsuki Bakugou and I am a perfect student that can’t even properly pronounce a simple spell! But that doesn’t matter because guess who’s a keeper for the quidditch team when I’m only a second-year!! I am perfect!! Literally, no one likes you.”

“Trust me, no one likes you either.”

No one meaning, and translating to, I don’t.

Just to show off, you easily cast the charm that he had failed. Charms were your strong subject, so you only needed to say the spell and flick your wand before turning your attention back to him.

He was nearly smoking from his ears, he was both embarrassed and livid.

And you felt a satisfied smirk curl up on your face as you turned to Ochako to help her complete the spell.

You waved to Momo Yaoyorozu as you walked down the hallway to meet up with Shouto and Izuku. Even though she was a Ravenclaw, she was a close friend of yours through Shouto.

And you kinda owed it to your housemates for stopping you from embarrassing yourself multiple times to be nice to their friends.

“Hey, Yao-momo.” You said. “I wasn’t expecting to see you until classes tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, I’m waiting for Kyouka.” She turned his body to lean against the wall. “We’re going to Hogsmeade today.”

“No invitation?”

She smiled at you and asked, “Would you like to join us, Captain?”

“I was joking, no need to sound so enthusiastic.” You chuckled. As you started to speak again, Kyouka Jirou left the classroom the two of you stood outside of. She smiled at you, her violet eyes gleaming at you, reflecting the sun rays.

“Captain!” Kyouka greeted, putting an arm around your shoulder. “Are you coming to Hogsmeade with us?”

“Be careful, your mortal enemies are coming.” Momo interrupted and warned, motioning over your shoulder.

You turned around to find Sero and Bakugou walking next to each other, laughing about something only the two of them knew. You had to hold back from commenting.

“Yoohoo!” Hanta Sero caught your eye. You sighed and turned back to your friends, sharing a look.

“Hello, Hanta.” You felt him beside you before you looked.

You purposely didn’t look at Bakugou.

“We’re celebrating our win tonight, you guys should join!” Sero invited. You heard Bakugou’s exhale of frustration, but you only rolled your eyes in an attempt to ignore his presence.

“You want a group of your rivals, plus one from the team that you beat today hanging out with you, celebrating your win, when Gryffindor go against you in less than a week?” Momo spoke up. Shee moved off of the wall. “No thanks. Come, Kyouka. Let’s go.”

Kyouka waved goodbye and followed her best friend down the hall. You pivoted to fully face the two Slytherins.

"What about the mighty Lion's Captain?" Sero asked.

"No, thanks, I have better stuff to do," you said, turning on your heels and waving at Sero.

Bakugou glared at your retreating figure.

It was the time of year just before winter, where the air starts to cool but the sun still warms your skin. You took a breath and held your broom at your side.

It was near minutes before the anticipated game against Slytherin, the two fated rivals, and you could hear the crowds already. The rivalry between your houses was something that everyone enjoyed; the rivalry between you and their keeper was all you.

“Alright team.” You pivoted to the team behind you. “We’re playing Lion first; and if we don’t get any points within the first two minutes, I’ll hold up the signal for Golden. Got it?”

“Got it.”

You had pretty much the best team between all of the houses in your honest opinion. was perfect as your keeper, he was never one to let anything get past him. Your chasers included you, Shouto, and Eijirou Kirishima. You had Leon and Leo for beaters. Two-third years that showed a huge amount of potential. And, rather recently, you gained a new seeker named Izuku Midoriya. And Izuku being one of your old friends made your teamwork with him, flawless in games

The Slytherin team was not one to mess with, they had a nice team too. Bakugou as the keeper, the Idiots Monoma and Tetsutetsu as beaters, their new seeker Aoyoma… but the problem was their chasers: Sero, Kyouka, Mina. They were so quick on their brooms, it was like working against the wind.

But your team was faster than theirs.

Today was no day to lose.

“It’s our first official match of the year.” You encouraged. “Let’s show them who not to mess with.”

“Let’s absolutely destroy them,” Leon added.

You grinned.

As you headed towards the field, you could feel the adrenaline creeping into your bones. Quidditch had become routine, simple muscle memory as you moved to your starting positions.

The Slytherin team appeared, and you felt the excitement enter you in a rush of air.

And as soon as the whistle sounded, you all flew off in the air, fully intent on kicking Slytherin's butts.

In the air, Bakugou Katsuki felt at peace. He was very good at what he did, and he knew that, and the game was something he was passionate about.

He was also passionate about beating you.

You were the bane of his existence. You had never once sent him anything other than something bitter or sarcastic. You were an annoying pest that he simply couldn’t get rid of.

And as you threw the Quaffle into the goal just above his head, Katsuki felt his eye twitch.

And what even irritated him, even more, was the small smile that you shot at him as you rushed back for a high-five at Todoroki.

Slytherin won, Izuku Midoriya’s hand high with the Snitch inside.

You watched in triumph as the teams descended on the brooms. From the skies down, you cheered.

“Congrats, Gryffindor,” Sero said, though his tone was bitter and sour.

And it did not feel as the statement was supposed to be at all but you ignored it in favour of the elation.

You knew that he hated losing, so you didn’t push it. He was a friend, after all. Sending him just a small “I’m sorry you didn’t win” smile, you headed to your team. You gathered them into a hug, or rather– a huddle, and ruffled the hair on Izuku’s head.

You peeked over your shoulder to catch sight of Bakugou. He was standing, hands at his sides, red face and eyes blank of any expression other than anger.

You smirked at him.

And he snarled back at you.

Katsuki Bakugou was on the other side of the victory this time, silently brooding as he picked at his food in the Great Hall. The Slytherin table emitted zero volume.

He was pissed off the second you entered the hall, Deku and Todoroki walking beside you. The gold and red seemed to glow, mocking him in the worst way imaginable.

Sero tried to bring his attention back to the food, but Bakugou was focused primarily on you. You were gloating, relishing in his loss, taking delight in the compliments from your house. A Hufflepuff appeared at your side, and you smiled as you thanked them for their congratulations.

He felt sick.

And a small part of him felt angry. But that was well deserved by you, he supposes.

You could not help but drown yourself in the triumph. You walked on air, the feeling of superiority tickling every inch of skin it could touch.

You waved goodbye to a couple of friends, heading directly to the Slytherin table. You placed your hands on Sero and Katsuki’s shoulders, leaning to place your head right between theirs.

“I suppose we beat you as I told you.” You sent a wink to Bakugou, knowing full well how it would provoke him.

“Fuck off.” Bakugou shoved your hand off of his shoulder.

“To receive your praise at the Gryffindor table.” Mina shooed, fork in hand. “You won’t find it here.”

“Sore losers.” You mocked just for fun. You stood straight. “I imagine that I would be the same, given it was the other way.”

You basically skipped back to your table for breakfast.

You were absolutely elated for the rest of the day. It was quite similar to being on cloud 9, winning your first game of the year against your rivals. The look on Katsuki Bakugou’s face only added to the feeling.

You were walking down the hall, talking to Denki who had his arm wrapped in yours. He was going on and on about how he wished he could have imprinted Izuku's snitch catch to his memory. Or made it into shirts so he could sell it to his fan club and you laughed at that idea.

That was when your shoulder collided directly into a firm body.

Your arm was ripped away from your classmates, along with your bag that fell onto the hard ground with a loud thud and wisp of parchment and ink. Everything in your bag is now scattered on the ground, covered in dark ink and dirt.

Your mood was too high to get too angry. It was an accident; you would bite your tongue and clean up the mess.

Until you realized just who’s the shoulder you ran into Bakugou Katsuki. Your greatest enemy and now the destruction of your contents.

“Watch where you’re going next time, Bakugou.” You grunted, kneeling to save some of your parchment before the ink could reach it.

“Perhaps if you had your head out of your ass, you wouldn’t have run into me,” Bakugou responded. He had turned to face you midway through your fall.

“As if you didn’t feel this way a week ago.” You told him, standing up. Nearly everything that was in your bag was soaked, including the bag itself. You inhaled deeply. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Now, why would I run my shoulder into you on purpose hoping to ruin your mood?” He asked. “You must be very arrogant to think that everything must be about you.”

You clenched your jaw and closed your eyes. “I will not let a piece of shit such as yourself bring my mood down today. Today is a good day.”

You knelt once again to find the essay that you had written for Aizawa, searching your documents. Only to find it one of the few that were directly under the ink, completely doused in black.

“Actually, fuck you.” You lifted the paper. Ink dripped off and onto the ground. “Do you know how long I worked on this?”

“I don’t know, a couple of minutes?” Bakugou shrugged. “You aren’t exactly the best at your schoolwork.”

“You wish you knew me well, but you don’t at all.” You felt anger boil in your chest. “I worked very hard on this essay. Days, even. And you destroyed it in less than five seconds..”

“There’s the Gryffindor in you.” He let out a humourless laugh. “You think everything has to be about you, and if it doesn’t then someone is out to get you. Your ego is so fucking enormous that you can’t even muster the idea that maybe something isn’t about you. And then you shout at me for that. You didn’t even win, Deku won the game for you. God, why don’t you go make a friend instead of standing here arguing with me about an accident?”

"Fuck you, I actually have friends, unlike you, who only has followers," you answered back to him.

"Well, you have everyone hanging over you. You're just a slut aren't you?"

Denki's eyes widened and the small groups of people who were conversing around you stopped and for a moment you thought that the whole school had heard with the silence that spread.

You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes. Yes, both of you fought in front of each other. Both of you told each other to fuck off or even curse out a few times but none of you ever shouted such vulgar words at each other.

It was one thing to make comments, to be bitter and roll your eyes at each other’s presence. It was one thing to bicker, to fight, to joke to friends about the other’s incompetence and purposely pull on each other’s strings.

It was something else completely to call you a slut in front of everyone in the middle of a hallway after a thread of insults.

The overwhelming force to cry was still there but you would not allow yourself to cry in front of him.

Right after he called you that.

You would not let him have that satisfaction.

So, you turned on your heels and said, "You're more than an asshole Katsuki Bakugou."

And your prompts hurried away.

Denki, who was still frozen on the spot after the volley of insults had to be shot and the worse had been done, shoved Bakugou aside and said, "You shouldn't have said that Bakugou," and rushed behind you, calling out your name.

"You shouldn't call anyone a slut, Katsuki. Those words are not meant to be uttered in a civil society. It's like calling you a pussy publicly," Mitsuki Bakugou uttered, with the most strict voice she could offer while Masuru Bakugou spluttered at the usage of curse words in front of their son.

Katsuki Bakugou did not think often before speaking. He was just so used to people either bowing down and agreeing to his demands or just ignoring them that when he meet you, someone he could neither affect with both of his options, he always blew up.

Perhaps it was the fact that you had such a kind heart that you shook the Giant Squid's tentacle when it came on your boat during your first year because you thought it was lonely.

Or perhaps it was how easily you made friends with people. Just collecting the lonely bits of a big puzzle and joining it together, seemed to be your speciality.

But perhaps the most infuriating thing about you was the fact that you just refused to bow down to his screams and shouts and temper. You rose to receive the challenge he posed.

That is why his heart tore and clawed its way in his chest when you had turned around and run away from him.

He supposes you had stuck beside him long enough.

And he could not ignore the way that your friends glared at him while sitting in the Great Hall, Todoroki being the most vocal about it.

Or the way, Mina made excuses whenever he tried to talk to her.

Or, how Kirishima had stopped trying to drag his butt to Hogsmead for a friendly meet during the weekends.

Yes, he could not ignore all that.

"Maybe you should apologize," Sero suggested one day after catching the solemn look on his face.

"Do what now?" he screamed at him.

"You know, apologize to them," he repeated, slowly.

"Why should I apologize to them?"

"Because you know that you went too far. I know you still have feelings and stuff that you seem to everyone else for it."

For several days Katsuki Bakugou did not see you anywhere. Not in the classes, not in the Great Hall and the weight of his deed was still there.

So he did the next best thing.

He found out when you had booked the Quidditch pitch for practise of your team because he knew you wouldn't abandon them even in your worse days and planned to apologise to you there.

He had even practised it a few times in front of the mirror, "I'm sorry that I hurt your feelings by calling you a slut." It was a small apology but he was hopeful that you would forgive him.

Yes. And you two could go back to the regular hating and biting remarks instead of the new empty kind of feeling that settled in his chest.

But the second he stepped onto the Quidditch, he was stopped by Shouto Todoroki and Izuku Midoriya from going any further.

"Kachaan, you should not be here," Izuku said with more force than he had ever talked to with Katsuki and he wondered, what had you done that so many people were standing in defence of you.

"I know. I just came to apologize to them. Just move out of my way Deku."

Todoroki stepped in front of Izuku and said as bluntly as ever, "They don't want to see you. And I don't think your apology will mean anything to them except for sending them into a bad mood."

Before he could say anything, you came and said, "Zuku, Shou, the break is over. Get your butts moving."

Katsuki felt himself freeze in surprise. You had been at the practice for about two hours yet your voice was not hoarse from shouting. Even your energy levels seemed to be at the ever high.

Though before he could unfreeze and say his apology, you had already flown into the sky with Izuku and Shouto behind, in tow, leaving him behind in the dust.

The loneliness that you left behind with ignoring him was cold.

And his heart broke a little.

And he finally understood, all those years he thought he had the vilest hatred for you was just his stupid emotions trying to tell him that he liked you.

But he was too late now, he supposed.

How could he be such an idiot, to believe that you, out of all people, could ever love him?

Hanta Sero took a place beside you. It would have been normal if it were not for your avid avoidance of anyone with a Slytherin robe on.

“Hello, Hanta.” You said without sparing him a glance.

The thing was, you weren’t angry with him. You didn’t hate him, you hated his closest friend. And by association, you didn’t want to talk to him just as much. Sero had always been the middle ground between the doom and gloom that was the sandy-haired boy you hated.

“I think you should talk to Kats,” Sero said. Plain and simple, to the point.

“I think you should mind your business.” You retorted. “I never talked to him to begin with, what’s different now?”

“Because now is different.” He grabbed his book as the professor walked in. “Now, you won’t even say your smart ass remarks or tell him how fucked up his hair looks. Now he is just… boring and sad. And he mopes all the time. He isn't even playing his best on the field”

“So you want me to talk to the guy I hate in order for him to not be sad?” You scoffed and collected your things. “No, thank you. I've been keeping my distance, just like he wanted and I am happy to keep it this way.”

You stood up from your seat and sat beside Izuku just as the professor started talking, receiving a few stares in the process. It wasn’t as if you weren’t used to that.

You were walking with Ochako, laughing about the attempts everyone had tried to do to make Todoroki laugh when you committed the most horrific mistake of your life.

You caught the eye of Bakugou across the street who just had to look at you at the same moment.

You quickly averted your eyes but not before it caught his attention

It had been snowing, so most of the students were in their winter gear and warm clothes. You yourself had a hat and scarf on, gloves to cover your hands despite the hot to-go mug of cocoa in them.

Hogsmeade was quite busy with everyone getting last-minute holiday gifts and hurrying to hang out before the break. Yet, somehow, your eyes found the reds of Bakugou's.

You turned around, forcing Ochako to follow. The girl didn’t even have to ask about your change in demeanour, easily falling into place beside you.

You felt a hand on your wrist and heard your name being called. “Hey. Can I talk to you? I’ve been trying to apologize…”

You stopped dead in your tracks as if you were pulled on a leash. As if his bare hand touching your empty gloved one had scolded you. Bakugou stood before you, red cheeks from either the cold or from rushing after you. Either way, you wanted nothing to do with it.

He had spun you in his grasp, his jaw tight and eyes searching yours before falling to his hand around yours. His grip on your wrist was tight, and he swallowed as his eyes found yours again.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” You snatched your arm away. “Have you ever considered that? I don’t want to talk to you, I don’t want to see you, and I don’t want to hear your half-ass apology! What gives you the right to just waltz back into my life after all the pain you’ve caused."

“I have been trying to talk to you.” He said. “I…” His eyes scanned yours. His tongue rolled in his mouth. “You mean to tell me that you don’t want my apologies?”

“You’ve made it very clear what you think of me, so I hope that I can make this very clear for you,” You took a deep breath. “I hate you. I don’t like you, I have never liked you, and I hope that whatever it is that is eating you up inside continues to do so.”

Katsuki Bakugou’s eyes twitched. He started to take a step towards you, but decided against it, falling back into the same step. “I don’t…” His voice was nothing as you had ever heard it. “You…” His eyes clouded with the emotions you were familiar with. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

Bakugou faltered for a moment, his eyes held remorse and you almost wanted to forgive him but you remembered what he called you.

He quickly shoved a box of chocolates into your hands and said, "I brought this for you as an apology gift but you didn't want my words. I hope my actions will speak louder. And I hope that someday you will find it in your heart to forgive me," and he promptly left, leaving you flabbergasted in the middle of the streets of Hogsmead, with Ochako by your side.

It was a sudden realization. It was not something you had even considered before, not something planned or reasoned. It was much like a tsunami, a build-up of unrelated activity that brought something else entirely.

Emotions were unfortunate things. If you feel extreme emotions for someone, no matter what… they are still very strong feelings.

Hate to love, what a strange concept.

You held the potion below your nose, inhaling the scent.

“What does it smell like?” Aizawa asked.

“It smells like… caramel.” You distinguished the varying smells. “Apple. And… burning wood?”

You stepped back and hoped no one could see you connecting the dots through your eyes.

Hanta Sero was an observant person. He was known to be the person who knew the best for his team, easily finding the perfect techniques for each on the field and as encouragement. He was one for connections and relationships. He was the one who handled the emotional part.

This is why he knew that you were masking feelings of something else with this burning hatred. This is why he knew why you felt so bad after Kats called you a terrible name in front of an audience. This is why he knew who it was when you listed your amortentia scents.

He tried to send you a look from his seat across from you, classes later. He wanted to tell you that he knew; that he knew there was something more to what’s going on, and that something was Katsuki.

You just sent him a middle finger, knowing full well what he was getting at.

Your feelings didn’t just suddenly arrive. And you were full of confusion, disorientation, and most of all… anger.

For as long as you could remember, Katsuki Bakugou was supposed to be your arch enemy. He was your nemesis on a daily basis. He was the reason for your annoyance. He was the reason for your hatred for the colours green and silver. He was the reason you became the quidditch captain. He was the reason for the breath leaving your lungs.

And he was the reason for the breath entering.

You were pissed. You were pissed that you had unrealized feelings for the man you were supposed to hate, have hated for years. You were pissed that your love had been in a game of chess, where the only outcome is to win or forfeit. You were pissed that the entire time you had spent a vast majority of your time hating, loathing, rolling your eyes at… the entire time you had reserved space for hate when it should have been quite the opposite.

The luck must have been exclusively for someone else because it seemed as though whoever created you had decided to have a fun game.

You had punched Bakugou Katsuki once.

It was something you thought of a lot, and it was the main reason Bakugou chose not to test you too close to that day.

He was rolling his eyes at something Denki was saying when you walked by. You were heading to your quidditch practice, the captain not one for latecomers. And he caught sight of you. He quickly jumped from his spot and stopped you from passing.

“Out of the way, Katsuki, I have practice.”

“Oh, right, because you’re on the quidditch team now.”

“I am, thank you very much.” It was the beginning of the third year, and you were not only annoyed but you were also a Growing Person going through puberty. You did not have time to deal with a teenage boy pissing you off. “You forget that not everyone got on the team their first year of trying out.”

“Because we’re better than the entire Gryffindor team.”

“Talk to me when you win a house cup.” You tried to push past him, but he stood directly in front of you in one step. “Move, or be moved.”

“What are you going to do? Punch me?”

So, you did. Your fist collided with his cheek before you could even register that it had happened. Denki gasped out loud, it quickly turned into a laugh.

“They punched you! That was superb.” Denki laughed, grasping at his sides. “Ah, man!”

While Bakugou touched his cheek to check that— ah yes, you really did punch him— you were already walking away to the practice field.

Katsuki started t missed you if he were being fully and completely honest with himself.

It was right, you only miss something that is completely removed from your life.

He found himself searching for you in classes or in common areas, prepared for your snide remarks and bitter taunts. He found himself waiting for you to roll your eyes at his presence; looking for you to quip about the next quidditch game.

But when none of it came, he felt out of place.

He actually missed your annoying banter. He missed you shoving your middle finger in his direction. He missed the redness on your cheeks when you would try to calm yourself down. He missed the silence that would escape you if he entered a room and you were anything other than angry.

He missed catching you smiling at someone and watching your face change. He missed the arguments in class. He missed the little comments during eating.

Confused, he pushed those feelings down as he watched you eat with some Ravenclaws and a Hufflepuff that he had never talked to before.

And the empty space in his heart only grew larger in size.

It had been several weeks of silence from your end. You had thrown yourself back into quidditch before the break, happy to have a distraction from whatever the fuck you were feeling. You weren’t going home for the holidays, so you spent some time planning for the spring and classes.

You found yourself outside, sitting in the snow and writing a makeup essay for Aizawa. You had found a nice spot under a roofed area, so nothing smudged your writing (or, you know, covered it completely).

“Oh.” A voice said from above you.

You looked up to find Bakugou, hands in pockets and staring at you as if you had never existed and he was discovering you for the first time.

“I wasn’t expecting to find anyone here.” He said.

“Yeah, obviously neither was I.” You started to put your things away.

“No… no comment?”

“Hm?”

“No… snarky comment? No, you look terrible to me?”

You shook your head. Mainly because you didn’t have the energy. You were content, bored, and just overall exhausted. You had exhausted yourself in thinking of every possible outcome to your love for the boy in front of you, none of which made any sense.

None of it made any sense.

It was as if one moment, you were standing on the ground. And the next, you were swept away by a giant wave that you thought was only an earthquake. You hated to love.

“Then, can I finally say what I have been meaning to?”

“No.” You finally got the last of your things into your bag.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why can’t you just hear me out?” He stood in front of you, hoping to stall your leaving. “I’ve been trying to tell you that I shouldn’t have called you a slut, and I should have…”

“And I don’t want to hear it.”

You started to leave, but he jogged to jump in front of you again. Through the years, he had gained height compared to you. You weren’t necessarily kids anymore, you weren’t at eye level to just punch him in his cheek without reaching for it.

“God, you’re fucking annoying.” You shifted your bag on your shoulders. “You want me to call you a name so it can be even? Do you want me to tell you that everything is fine and we can go back to our constant fighting? What do you fucking want from me? Did it mean anything to you? Did I mean anything to you?”

“What do I want from you?” He asked, voice rising to match yours. “What do you want from me? I’ve been trying to get your attention for over a fucking month and you have given me every reason to just stop.”

“Then why don’t you!” You dropped your hands. “Why don’t you just leave me the fuck alone?”

“Why?”

“Why what, Katsuki?”

“Why?” Katsuki let out a small breath, the grey cloud leaving his lungs. “Why won’t you just let me talk to you for five minutes?”

“Because I don’t want to! Because I don’t want to hear you make up excuses. Because I cannot listen to your voice for too long.”

Before you could stop yourself, before you could recognize your own voice, before any thoughts arrived, you said, “Because for some fucked up god awful reason, I’m in love with you!”

Everything froze all at once. The oxygen left your lungs, the snow stopped falling, and everything became so unbearably silent.

You stared at him, regret drenching you in an instant as if the tides of the ocean had risen and fell in one single motion. You couldn’t breathe, your heart seized in your chest and against your ribs. You couldn’t bring yourself to look into his face, fearing to find yourself lost and never found.

He let out a single breath. And you held yours.

He froze and then he leaned forward.

He remembered the last time he was too late to act.

His lips touched yours, gently and then suddenly was full of the fireworks that everyone had said about their first kisses. The fervent feelings that ran through your bodies, the anger and the misplaced love, all tumbling out in the biggest mess he'd ever seen.

But he continued. And then you broke apart.

Both of you had a lot of talking to do with each other but hopefully it would all turn out to be well.

"And so, we both are kinda dating now," you finished with an awkward look on your face, rubbing your neck.

A silence overtook your friends and Izuku whispered, "What the fuck?"

Shouto screamed at the both of you, "I fucking knew it." And then his voice slipped into his conspiracy theorist voice, "There was sexual tension between the two of you."

You facepalmed.

Katsuki turned red.

#bnha #mha #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #x gn reader #bakugou x y/n #mha bakugou #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x reader #boku no hero acadamia oc #bnha fanfic

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polaroid15 · 3 years ago

Text

Parker Luck

Summary: Two weeks after the Vulture-incident, Tony buys a parenting book. Too bad there isn't a chapter on Parker luck.

Read on Ao3 HERE :)

------

Two weeks after the Vulture fiasco, Tony buys a book called ‘Parenting for Dummies’.

He almost immediately regrets the purchase and hides it in a drawer in the lab, not yet brave enough to face it. Then one day he spends three hours squished against Peter’s side, listening to the boy ramble about everything under the sun while they adjust his web shooters. It hits Tony like a brick wall, and when Peter bounces out of the lab after teaching Tony a complicated handshake he knows he’ll never remember, he swears under his breath.

He shouldn’t be surprised, really. He had known it from that very first moment in the kid’s bedroom in Queens.

For once, denial has gotten him nowhere.

After his eyes ache from staring at the door Peter had disappeared from, Tony stands, stretches out a kink in his lower back, and grabs the book from the drawer before he can lose his nerve. Still standing, he traces his thumb over the word Parenting on the cover.

Retreat, his mind begs. Stop. Before it’s too late.

But deep down, he knows he’s already in too deep.

With a heavy sigh and a pressing warmth in his chest, Tony flips the pages to chapter one.

--------

Peter calls it ‘Parker luck’.

Tony calls it the source of his ever-increasing gray hair.

When Peter stumbles into the Tower covered in blood and delirious from a nasty hit to the head, Tony thinks he’ll pass out from the sudden weight of his worry. It only takes some gentle coaxing and seven stitches to make it better, but the unease sits in Tony’s gut long after Peter falls asleep. When the boy wakes up, he apologizes until Tony snaps at him not too.

“It’s the Parker luck, Mr. Stark,” Peter tells him, his head wrapped like a mummy on halloween. “It gets me everytime.”

Parenting for Dummies Chapter Three: Listen. “A nasty concussion doesn’t exactly sound like luck to me, kid.”

“Oh, well it’s not good luck,” Peter clarifies with a weak smile. “In fact it’s really bad luck. Exceptionally bad.”

“You’re killing me here.”

“Did you know that I slipped on a banana peel once? A banana peel. I was on crutches for three weeks in middle school.”

Tony’s worry melts into a hesitant amusement. He sits back on his stiff medbay chair and makes a distant note to invest in a better one. “That is pretty lousy luck, kiddo.”

“And it just keeps getting worse,” Peter says. “Getting bitten by a radioactive spider, crashing Flash’s car, or the fact that I spent homecoming destroying a plane while fighting my date’s dad.”

“I hope this Parker luck of yours isn’t contagious,” Tony jokes, but something in Peter’s eyes darkens. He leans back against the white sheets, chewing on his bottom lip. Tony thinks again of chapter three, of the subtitle that prompts to push at the right times, and takes the liberty. “What is it, kid?”

Peter closes his eyes and gives a watery smile. “Nothing, Mr. Stark. Sorry.”

And because he’s an idiot, Tony believes him. Something tells him he needs to buy Parenting for Dummies 2.

--------

When Peter saves a school bus full of third graders from a thirteen car pileup at the expense of his collar bone, Tony rereads his book, this time with a highlighter in hand.

He wishes there was a section on Parker luck.

This time, he’s less careful about where he reads. Pepper catches him one night, her eyebrows disappearing behind her bangs in her surprise. Her smile is genuine. “Is that what I think it is?” she asks.

“Maybe.”

“Oh God, please don’t tell me you’re pregnant.”

Tony rolls his eyes and dog ears his page before setting it aside. “I am, actually. And sorry to break it to you, but you’re not the father.”

Pepper laughs and sits on the arm of the couch. She runs her hand through his hair and he can’t help but lean into her touch. “This is about Peter,” she says.

His first instinct is to deny it. He feels vulnerable in a way he isn’t used to. “So what if it is?”

“He’s a good kid.”

“I know.”

“He’s making you soft.”

Tony scoffs, but doesn’t deny it. Not with Parenting for Dummies on his lap. “He’s stressing me out, is what he’s doing.”

“He really cares about you, Tony. I see it every time he’s over here.”

His body betrays him by the gentle swoop in his stomach. His mouth twitches in a smile. “I care about him too.”

“You’re a good example to him. He needs someone like you in his life. Especially after what happened to his parents. And his Uncle.”

And then it clicks. Parker luck. Tony’s mouth goes dry.

“I’m trying,” is all he manages to whisper. The book in his lap seems to increase by ten.

Pepper leans over him, pressing her lips into his hair. “I know.”

---------

It’s his and Peter’s fifth mission together.

Today, they’re going up against “the Detonator”, a crazed woman with an affinity for making bombs and setting them off in busy neighbourhoods. She’s armed with a team of rocket-launcher-wielding henchmen, and it’s taking every effort to keep the city in one piece.

Most of the block has been evacuated, thanks to Peter. Tony remembers chapter seven and shoots the boy some praise over their coms. Steve, who’s joined them for the day’s fight, agrees with clipped enthusiasm.

“Thanks guys!” Peter says in his usual animation. “These rocket launchers are no joke. Have you ever seen the movie-”

But whatever it is, it’s lost in the deafening sound of an explosion. He hears Peter swear over the com and Tony’s blood runs cold. Three blocks down, an orange fireball balloons into the air. Steve is already running, his shield tucked into his chest.

Tony shoots off into the sky.

---------

Peter thought they had everything under control.

Until rocket launcher man number 3 decided to explode the bank off 47th street, that is.

He feels the heat from the explosion before he can process what happened. It rips across his back and throws him off his feet into a hot dog cart across the street. Rubble and ash rain down on parked cars and their alarms begin to sound.

“Crap,” Peter groans, shoving away the dented cart and stumbling to his feet. His ears are ringing.

“Pete?” Tony’s voice cuts through the haze. “We’re on our way. You alright?”

“Yeah,” he responds, breathless. His shoulder aches. “These guys are not in a good mood.”

“You can say that again.”

The man who had fired the shot runs up the steps of the bank, bypassing chunks of concrete. Peter limps after him.

“Sorry man,” Peter says when his opponent’s back is still turned. “It’s after hours.”

Startled, the man spins. Peter fires a web to disarm him and it only takes one swift punch to finish the job. He webs him to the floor and kicks the rocket launcher into the corner.

“Kid?” Tony lands beside him, faceplate lifting and his hands reaching to grab onto him. His grip is tight on Peter’s arms, and Peter is unsure which one of them Tony is trying to comfort. “You still in one piece?”

Peter’s ears are still ringing, a high pitched whine that makes his eye twitch. His ankle throbs and he can feel warmth spreading down his back from a cut on his shoulder. He nods anyway. “Are you?”

“Better now that I see you haven’t been barbecued.”

Steve joins them as Peter laughs off Tony’s worry. He’s breathing heavy, his forehead streaked with ash. “Someone sighted the Detonator. She’s heading east towards the Empire State Building.”

“Of course she is,” Tony sighs. Finally, he lets Peter go. “Ready for a field trip?”

But just as he says it, another violent explosion lights up the street across from them. Peter stumbles against the force. Tony grabs his arm, and Steve his shoulder, and he steadies. Through the black smoke, a child cries.

Chest tight, Peter takes a step forward before he’s yanked back. It’s Tony. His helmet hides his expression, but Peter can tell from his stiff posture that he’s worried. That he doesn’t want to separate.

As if sensing it too, Steve places a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Peter and I will clear the rocket launchers. You go take care of the Detonator.”

“But-”

“She can’t get to it first, Tony. You’ll be the fastest.”

The crying continues, and Peter takes another step. This time, the metal fingers wrapped around his elbow loosen, letting him go. “You better watch him, Rogers.”

“Mr. Stark-”

“Don’t do anything stupid, kid.”

And then Tony is off, blasting off into the sky. Peter shivers against the hot air his exit leaves before turning to run towards the smoke and debris, Steve hot on his heels. Without hesitation, he jumps over the small flames and emerges on the other side, his throat closing up against the smoke.

The first thing Peter sees is the child, snot-nosed and hidden underneath the bed of a truck. His eyes widen when he sees them, a cry stopped short. “Spider-Man!” he yells.

“Get the kid,” Steve says. “I think I see our guy.”

And then he’s gone.

Peter doesn’t dwell on it, vaulting over a smashed mailbox and a stretch of broken glass to reach the kid’s side. He’s trembling, but his hands reach out. Trusting him.

“It’s alright,” Peter says, accepting the kid’s outstretched hands. “We’re okay. Do you know where your family is?”

The boy shakes his head, lip wobbling but obviously trying to be brave. “N-no. I lost them over there,” he says pointing down the street.

“Okay. No problem. Let’s go find them.”

He doesn’t give the boy an option to walk, but instead guides him to rest against his back. Small fingers lock together at the base of Peter’s throat, holding tight.

“What’s your name?” Peter asks as he heads in the direction the boy had pointed. Keep him distracted.

“Benny.”

Peter’s breath catches. “Nice to meet you, Benny. I’m Spider-Man.”

“I- I know.”

“Oh yeah?”

The boy’s head bobs against his back. “I see you on TV. And on the newspapers on the street. You fight bad guys.”

“I try too.”

“You’re awesome,” Benny says, and the shaking quality to his voice recedes.

“I think you’re the awesome one. You’re being so brave.”

“Brave?”

“Yeah, Benny. Even though it’s scary right now you’re still going.”

Benny sniffles. “Are you scared?”

“Nah,” Peter says. “I’ve got you to protect me.”

Against his back, Benny’s chest swells with a breath of a response, but before he can let the words lose a relieved cry erupts from their left. A woman in a pastel headscarf runs towards them, her arms outstretched. “Benny! My little Ben-”

“Mom!”

Peter maneuvers him to the ground and as soon as his small feet hit the ground he’s running. The pair meet in the middle of the street, their arms wrapping tight and their tears mixing. The mother’s eyes meet him from over Benny’s shoulder. “Thank you,” she says, every ounce of her emotion leaking into her words.

“Of course,” is all he can manage.

Once he’s sure they're safe and off the street, he deviates his attention to his coms. “Steve?” he asks over a private channel. “Where are you?”

For a long time, Steve doesn’t respond. Then just as Peter’s worry spikes the man’s voice fills his ears, pinched and strained. “By the river. I’m cornered.”

“Karen-” Peter starts, but Steve’s location pops up on his screen before he can ask further. He changes the trajectory of his swing and just barely avoids clipping his hip on the corner of a building. Then, to Steve, “I’m on my way!”

He finds the Captain in worse shape than he had expected. He’s hunched against an upturned car, it’s tires melted from the sheer heat of the destruction on the street. His shield is raised over his head to protect him from debris raining from the crumbling buildings.

Across the road, three of Detonator's accomplices are shooting the buildings around him, shrieking with glee whenever new glass shatters. Peter glides between the chaos before landing beside Steve. He scrapes his hands on the landing.

“Oh my god,” Peter says, flinching from another loud explosion. “What do we do?”

Steve grimaces, and it’s only now that Peter sees how messed up his leg is. It’s twisted at an unnatural angle, the material of his suit singed and still smoking around it.

“What the hell happened?” Peter gasps, feeling sick.

“It doesn’t matter. We need to get out of here.”

“Not with those crazy rocket guys standing guard. You can’t walk!”

“I can try.”

Adrenaline courses hot through Peter’s bloodstream. He peaks over the car and reassesses their opponents. “I can take them.”

“No. Tony said-”

“Tony isn’t here,” Peter argues. “Besides, I have my Peter tingle. I’ll be fine.”

“Peter tingle?”

“Be right back.”

“Wait!”

But Peter ducks out of cover, knowing that Steve won’t be able to stop him. He runs towards the one closest to him and hopes the element of surprise will be enough to take them down. It is, but barely, and now his cover is blown. The other two turn their weapons towards him and before he can suck in a breath, fire.

Peter swears and jumps high, the rockets whistling as they pass under his feet. They hit the edge of the sidewalk by the river, blowing it open and skipping chunks of debris into the water. Not wanting to wait for them to reload, Peter swings and takes them both out with a single kick. He lands in a messy roll, disoriented by the quickness of the fight.

“We’re clear!” he yells over to Steve, but even as he says it dread sits heavy in his gut. He takes one step towards the car before he hears it- a sharp release of air.

Fire blooms up at the base of the building closest to Steve, the crack of the impact enough to rattle Peter’s teeth and throw him to his knees. It’s the last straw. The building makes a horrible noise of grinding cement, like a scream, and Peter knows enough from experience that it’s close to collapse.

“Steve!”

He sprints to where the man is trying to limp away. His eyes find him, their blue shocking through the dust and smoke. “Peter. You have to get out of here-”

“Not without you.”

Before the man can object, Peter pulls his weight over his shoulder and makes it his burden. He wonders distantly where the fourth rocket launcher is and why they haven’t been blown sky high yet.

But then glass and cement falls down around them like rain, and Peter realizes. Because the building will finish the job for them.

“We’re not going to make it,” Steve says through ground teeth. His hold on Peter’s shoulder is bruising. “Peter, please.”

The building sways again. They have a couple seconds. Nothing more.

Then Peter sees it. A manhole.

“Here,” he gasps, dropping to his knees and tearing off the cover. Every alarm bell in his head is screaming, but it’s the only option. The only way they’ll both have a chance. “Go.”

Steve drops in, disappearing into darkness and landing below with an aborted shout. Peter kicks his legs in just as the building crumbles. Fear stops the breath in his chest and he slides the rest of the way in. He falls and lands hard, head spinning, before finding Steve’s arm in the darkness and pulling him deeper into the sewer.

There’s a couple moments of silence.

And then the world erupts.

Peter will remember later how the force of the impact threw both of them off their feet and how it was impossible to keep his grip on Steve’s arm. He’ll remember the deafening noise of the building smashing onto the street above them, of the great plume of dust that filled the tunnel and blinded him.

He’ll remember falling, his legs jelly, and struggling to his knees.

He’ll remember wishing he had called Tony.

But none of it registers in the moment. There’s only terror.

And then there’s nothing.

----------

“Peter. Come on. Work with me here.”

Awareness brings pain. He strays.

“Nope. No. Peter. Open your eyes.”

The voice belongs to Steve, Peter realizes in a stilted disorientation. Steve, who had been hurt. Steve, who sounds very much alive.

It’s enough for Peter to lift his heavy eyelids. His surroundings are dark, but he can see the Captain’s worried face swimming in front of him, warping in and out of focus as both of them release a breath of relief.

“Thank God,” Steve says.

“Are you okay?” Peter murmurs, surprised for a moment by how unwilling his vocal cords are to cooperate. There’s new blood on Steve’s face and the torso on his suit is torn.

“It’s you I’m more worried about.”

“Mm. Why?”

Steve might respond, but Peter doesn’t hear it, his awareness slipping like the close of a stage curtain. Strong hands shake him and the sting of his injuries are enough for him to struggle back into wakefulness.

“Stay awake, kid. Alright? Tony is on his way. Keep your eyes open.”

Peter didn’t remember closing his eyes, but sure enough, when he tries they open. “Tony?”

“He’ll be here soon.”

There’s a tightness in his chest, and Peter coughs against it. It sparks a sharp pain behind his ribs and he curls his fingers into the ground as Steve braces him by his shoulder. His ribs are definitely broken. His leg throbs and the skin on the right side of his face itches terribly with drying blood. He blinks a couple times to try and alleviate his double vision, but it does nothing.

“What happened?” Peter asks.

“You don’t remember?”

“Not really.”

Steve’s expression pinches like he’s just eaten something sour. “The building above us collapsed, but don’t worry about it too much. Tony will be here in a flash.”

Collapse. Peter sucks in a panicked breath and it makes him cough again. It hurts worse this time, and his vision goes gray. He comes back to himself in Steve’s lap, his whole body shuddering and then man’s hand clamped protectively against his back.

The new perspective shows Peter a growing red stain on the Captain’s side.

“Steve,” he gasps, uncoordinated fingers reaching out to press against the wound.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not- it’s not nothing-”

Before Steve can retaliate further, their coms crack back to life. Peter winces against it, his fingers reaching up to struggle with the edges of his mask. Steve pushes his hand away. “Leave it. It’s helping filter your air.”

“Peter? Rogers?” Tony’s voice comes through in a mess of static. It reminds Peter of Ben’s favorite radio station that had been broadcasted too far to have a good connection. “I’m here. Oh Christ, I’m here. Are you okay?”

“Steve’s hurt,” Peter mumbles. It’s important Tony knows.

“Rogers?”

“Just hurry, Tony,” Steve says. There’s a pressure in his voice that Peter’s too tired to translate.

“The explosion caused the river to flood. You’re under about three feet of water right now.”

“We’re airtight.”

“For now.”

Peter feels himself dip further into Steve’s lap and the man’s steadying hand is delayed. Weaker. “Peter? What did I tell you about staying awake.”

“What’s wrong with Peter?”

“Queens. I need you to put pressure on this for me. Don’t give up on me now.”

Peter groans. For once, he doesn’t care how young it makes him sound. He struggles up anyways and replaces his hand obediently over Steve’s side. It paints his hands red and he tries desperately not to think of Ben.

“Rogers-”

“I got it, Tony.”

There’s a weighted silence. Peter bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself lucid. The static in his brain reminds him of the time he had gotten stabbed, and wonders if he’s bleeding somewhere too.

“Okay. I found a weak spot. It shouldn’t cause too much damage. Are you ready?”

“Go for it.”

There’s another lurch of shifting rock. Peter can’t help but cry out, his muddled brain struggling to comprehend that this time, it’s to help. Then there’s a loud crash, a weak beam of sunlight, and the rush of water.

Within seconds, the cold spray is up to their waists. Peter grinds his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut against reflexive tears the biting temperature brings. It gives him a boost of adrenaline, and when he opens his eyes again, his vision is more clear.

Tony is with them moments later, hovering above the water. His hands reach for Peter, but Peter shys away. “Steve first,” he pleads. “He’s bleeding-”

“You’re bleeding too-” Tony starts, but even as he says it, Steve lists dangerously to the side. His face is pale, his breathing shallow. Tony catches him by the shoulder. “Don’t move,” he tells Peter, and works to lift Steve up towards the hole.

The water is up to Peter's chest now. It steals the breath from his lungs and he scrambles to stand. Somewhere in the journey the ground above him groans and he loses his footing. He hears Tony yell out for him, feels metal hands push him hard, and then he’s completely underwater. There’s more noise. More pain.

He breaks the surface, stuttering on his breath and his teeth clattering. More sunlight has entered the tunnel, and it’s easy to piece together what had happened.

“Tony!”

Peter fights against the current to reach his mentor’s side. His suit is pinned under a large slab of concrete by his left leg, the water already sloshing up to his neck. Peter practically collapses beside him and digs his fingers under the weight, but his ribs scream in protest so violently that his vision goes white.

“Easy!” Tony yells, catching him by his arms when he falters. “Kiddo, listen to me. The suit will let me breathe for a while. You need to get out of here.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“You have to. FRIDAY took some damage, but she’s recalibrating my boosters. I’ll be able to get out.”

“No,” Peter chokes, trying again to lift the concrete keeping Tony pinned. “I won’t leave without you.”

“Peter-”

“I’m not losing you too. I can’t- I can’t-”

Tony’s voice is more gentle, his hand reaching to cradle the side of Peter’s face. “Listen to me, bud. I know this is scary. But you have to trust me. You have to go. For me.”

Peter shudders. Feels hot tears pool under the tight confines of his mask. “Told you I have Parker luck,” he says.

Tony finds it within himself to laugh. The water is at their chins. “I know, kiddo. But you don’t have to be afraid anymore. We’ve got each other now.”

“Tony-”

“Go.”

The water rises over his mouth. He wouldn’t be able to answer even if he wanted to. Then Tony’s head is submerged, and icy terror closes around Peter’s heart.

He dives under and reaches once more for the weight on Tony’s leg. He pulls and struggles and feels Tony’s hands on his arms, trying to pry him off and pull him away. The light is gone in the murky water.

Please. Please.

The concrete shifts. It takes everything in Peter not to gasp out at the pain it causes, to waste the precious air he has left.

Please.

It shifts again. Tony has given up on trying to push him off and is instead helping to lift the weight. Just a little bit more.

Peter screams, tiny bubbles escaping and carrying whatever he had left away. His body loses strength just as the concrete is alleviated. He thinks he feels Tony’s hands close around his numb body. But really he can’t be sure.

Tony is safe.

And it’s all that matters.

-------

“Peter. Don’t do this.”

“Breathe, Queens. Oh God-”

“Steve. What do I- I can’t- I can’t-”

“Keep the compressions going, Tony. Keep going okay? Don’t stop.”

“I can’t do it without him. I need him, Steve. I need-”

“Keep it together. He’s going to be fine. Right, Peter? You’re going to be fine. You just have to breathe for us.”

“Kiddo. Baby. Please.”

It’s all water down a drain.

A swirling, murky mess.

And it takes Peter with it.

-------

Parenting for Dummies: Chapter 12.

Love them unconditionally.

Tony hasn’t left his kid’s side for hours. He’s been glued to him, the boy’s limp hand pressed between his own like a lifeline even when the doctor’s had worked to splint his leg. Every breath, every rise and fall of Peter’s chest is a miracle, and Tony stares at the heart monitor until his eyes burn.

May is dozing in a recliner in the corner, her glasses crooked on her face. It’s just nearing three in the morning.

There’s movement behind him, and Tony turns to find Steve. He’s traded his hospital gown for a pair of loose sweats and a white shirt, the skin on his arms wrapped with thick bandages. The Captain turns and sees May. When he speaks, his words are almost a whisper. “How is he?”

Tony shrugs, a sudden lump monopolizing in his throat. “He’ll be okay.”

“Has he woken up yet?”

“No.”

Steve sighs. He limps to Tony’s side, but still manages to keep some distance. “He was brave today.”

“If by brave you mean dumb, then yes.”

“He saved our lives. We both know that you wouldn’t have been able to blast out of there by yourself.”

Dread sits heavy in Tony’s gut, because it’s true. He would’ve said anything to get Peter to safety. His blasters weren’t recharging. Weren’t even close to functioning.

But the kid had been too selfless for his lie. Really, Tony shouldn’t be surprised.

And now every time he closes his eyes he sees Peter. Hurt, small, Peter. Jerking with the last of his energy to free Tony. Of going limp in the water, no more air leaving his lips and remaining totally unresponsive as Tony fought to return the life to him.

“I wish it didn’t have to be him,” Tony says.

“But it is. It was.”

“I know.”

Steve lays a hand on Tony’s shoulder. He’s too tired to flinch away from it. “Let me know when he wakes up.”

And then he leaves.

Tony runs his thumb over Peter’s knuckles. “Wake up,” he says. Pleads.

But with his usual stubbornness, Peter doesn’t show signs of waking for another hour. First his fingers twitch. Then he groans. His eyelids flutter and Tony nearly collapses in his relief. Soft and weary eyes turn to find him, and Peter’s lips turn into a smile.

“You’re okay,” he murmurs.

“You have no idea how angry I am with you right now,” Tony says, but any heat behind his words is lost behind his relief. Peter must see it because his smile only widens.

“You don’ look angry.”

“Furious?”

“Nope.”

“Enraged?”

Peter laughs, then winces. He looks down and notices Tony’s hand clamped on his own. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”

“Well, the feeling’s mutual.”

Peter looks up. Tony tightens his hold.

“Maybe I don’t have Parker luck after all.”

“We’re breaking the cycle,” Tony agrees. He lifts Peter’s hand and presses a firm kiss to the back of his hand. Peter smiles again.

“Pepper told me you bought a parenting book,” he says, eyes drooping.

“That woman is nothing but a liar.”

“Mm. I believe her.”

“Sorry to break it to you kid, but whoever would want to willingly parent a danger seeking, heart attack inducing kid like you would have to be crazy.”

Peter squeezes Tony’s hand. “Sorry to break it to you, but I guess that means you're crazy.”

Tony’s heart compresses with warmth. “Yeah kid,” he says, “I guess I am.”

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

#peter parker #spider-man #tony stark #irondad #irondad fic #hurt peter parker #peter parker whump #protective peter parker #bamf peter parker #protective tony stark #steve rogers #captain america

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jj-babebank · 3 years ago

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Room 107 // chapter I // JJ Maybank (smut)

I have started my first JJ story, which will consist of several chapters that I will constantly be updating. The story picks up where season 2 leaves us. TW: Contains mentions of drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, sex and violence.

Chapter 1 can be found below. Oh, and - please feel free to submit requests, I tend to write a lot ;)

Enjoy xx

Chapter 1 - La Guardiana

Days had passed since the Pogues had last seen civilisation, maybe even weeks. The sun was hotter than ever, with close to no wind to mask the warmth. JJ was taking this particularly badly.

“I’m so done with eating bananas, man,” he moaned, kicking a pebble as he trotted a little behind the rest of his friends, “Can’t we just stumble across an oasis or something and end up in, like, an actual city?”

As if on command, his friends stopped in their tracks, the girls awing and the guys smiling happily.

“We just might, JJ,” said John B, looking at the city unfolding itself in front of them in the distance, “We just might.”

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

“I’m actually starving,” laughed Sarah, nudging John B’s arm, “Don’t tease!” “Hey, so am I,” he cooed, “First joint we find, we’re going in for food.” Kiara rolled her eyes, “As much as I would love to accept that offer, let me remind you that we have no money.” Sarah nodded, “Mhm, nothing at all.” “Nada,” John B looked at the two girls sternly, “And when has that ever stopped us exactly?” Kiara rolled her eyes once again, smirking at her friend, “Alright, I suppose a good meal would give me the energy I’d need to run a marathon after getting caught not paying.”

The group continued walking down a not too busy street, studying the buildings, looking for a restaurant, cafe, diner - anything, really. They hadn’t had a proper meal in God knows how long and they were famished. They couldn’t help but notice how all the buildings on the street were of the same height - no more than four storeys each, all painted in different colours. If they hadn’t known any better, they’d have thought that they had left the United States of America altogether, although one thing was certain - they were definitely not in the Outer Banks anymore.

The street wasn’t crowded at all, there were hardly any cars or people lurking about. JJ concluded that this was probably an unpopular area of whichever city they were in. This would also explain the lack of supermarkets and restaurants. He really wanted to ask his friends to stop for a little break - his throat was so dry and his legs could barely hold him up anymore, but he knew better. The longer they walk, the faster they’ll find what they are looking for. Having no indicator of the time on them wasn’t helping either, hell, they could have been walking for 12 hours for all he knew, and with no result.

“Maybe we should just ask someone,” Pope suggested, “Neither of us is a wanted criminal anymore, I’d say we have nothing to worry about.” John B smirked at his friend’s remark, but ultimately agreed to ask the first person they ran into where the nearest food joint was. Turns out, they were standing right in front of it.

“La Cubanita Hotel and Restaurant” it spelled out in bold, red letters. The building was narrow and a light shade of blue, totally contrasting the obnoxiously coloured sign planted in front of it. Much like the rest of the buildings on the street, it had no more than four floors, each consisting of a row of Spanish windows with brightly coloured frames. The Pogues looked at each other with a hint of uncertainty before John B lead the way into the building.

On the inside it looked like a typical diner - tiled floor, red and blue booths, a long bar accompanied by bar stools and, cheesily enough, a boombox. JJ guessed that the way to the hotel was through the back, but he didn’t put too much thought into it. The place seemed dead, with only one of the booths being busy. It was either an off-peak hour or this city was actually a ghost town.

The group sat at one of the booths on the other side of where the other people were and JJ took a second to observe them. A group of bikers, all wearing stereotypical biker outfits from leather jackets down to bandanas. They were in their mid 50s and were all smoking indoors, drinking what looked like whiskeys, despite of the blazing sun still very much being out. JJ had to give it to them though, they did look pretty darn cool if he did say so himself, and those cigarettes looked eerily appetising to him at this given moment. Oh, what he’d give to have a sip of whatever they were having and a long, much needed drag of one of their cigarettes. He was so lost in his daydream, he barely realised Kiara poking him in the arm.

“JJ,” she urged, “Waitress is here!” In this moment JJ turned his attention to the new subject in question, their waitress. She was standing at the foot of their booth, wearing her uniform, black and red, holding a pen and a notepad, chewing a piece of gum, waiting for his order. Could this place get any more stereotypical? JJ thought to himself. “So what’s it gonna be, handsome?” She said, not even bothering to look in his direction. “Uh…” JJ fumbled with the menu, “I’ll just have whatever they’re having.” He said, pointing at the bikers in the booth across from theirs. The woman rolled her eyes, popping her bubblegum. She took the rest of the Pogues’ orders before disappearing somewhere behind the bar. JJ followed her with his eyes, blocking out the conversation his friends were currently having. The waitress came back out of what he assumed to be the kitchen and handed the paper with their orders to another girl behind the bar. JJ guessed she was the barmaid, and boy was she a bit of him.

She was wearing the same uniform as her colleague, although JJ had to admit - it looked a whole lot better on her, at least from what he could see from above the bar. Her hair was long and brown, half of it tied up effortlessly, and slightly messily, although JJ didn’t mind one bit. He watched her as she took the paper from her colleague and went to fetch the drinks written on it. He couldn’t make out what exactly colour her eyes were, and quite frankly - he didn’t really care, she was gorgeous regardless of what her eyes looked like, and she looked around his age. Had the sun and heat gotten to his head, or was it just the fact that he hadn’t touched a female in so long, he didn’t know, but if there was one thing JJ Maybank was notorious for, it was his ability to pull any girl his heart desired effortlessly. This is why he excused himself from the table and, albeit his friends’ confused looks and comments, he made his way towards the bar, sliding into one of the stools directly across from the girl.

She looked up at him, “Can I help you?” “Brown…” JJ mumbled to himself. “Excuse me?” She said, this time sounding slightly annoyed. Her eyes were brown, JJ thought, brown and sexy. He coughed, trying to compose himself and gave her his signature Maybank stare. It worked wonders back home, surely it would work wonders now again. “Name’s JJ,” he said suavely, “I’m not from around here-“ “Clearly,” she muttered, picking up a bottle of whiskey. JJ assumed it was for him, “Aren’t you a little young to be drinking, JJ?”

JJ smirked, “What can I say, I have the face of a boy but the body and mind of a man.” The girl snickered under her nose, “Sure. Well since you’re here, make yourself useful and bring your drinks over to your friends,” she gave him a fake smile, placing a tray with their orders on it in front of him, after which she turned her back to him and walked towards the back of the bar. JJ was too busy observing her behind to notice the other waitress standing next to him, her arms crossed in front of her chest. “Should I take that or will you?” She said, waking JJ up from his everlasting daydream. “Oh, uh, don’t sweat it…” he said, picking up the tray and carrying it over to his friends’ booth. “So much for customer service,” Sarah laughed. “And to think my dad says I’m hostile to our customers,” Kiara muttered out. JJ took his seat next to her, his eyes never leaving the bar. “La Guardiana,” Pope read out loud, “This place is called La Guardiana, and apparently we’re somewhere in Florida.” “Florida?” John B said, confusion dripping through his words. Pope nodded, pointing at some text on the bottom of the menu.

La Cubanita Hotel & Restaurant **, 97 Diego’s Crescent, La Guardiana, FL

“Holy shit, we’re in Florida!” John B whisper yelled. Sarah laughed at his reaction, “Calm down now, Sancho, let’s not draw any attention to us,” “Yeah, you might wanna tell Casanova here that,” teased Pope, nodding his head in JJ’s direction, “Was it really worth it to potentially blow our cover just to talk to that girl?” JJ snapped at Pope, “Hey, man, just ‘cuz you don’t have the nuts to go over there and talk to her yourself,” “Yeah, I really want to attract the staff’s attention, you know, even more than we already are, seeing as we’re the only other busy table at this place.” “Your food,” the waitress from earlier was back with some of the Pogues’ orders. They waited for her to be out of earshot and JJ spoke up, “Relax, P, I bet you I can charm the pants off that girl and we won’t even need to sneak out without paying!” Pope gave JJ a fake smile, “Mhm, I’m sure she’s gonna be so deep under your spell she won’t even notice us leaving without paying a cent." JJ rolled his eyes, picking up a toothpick from the table and placing it between his teeth. “Might even offer us a place to crash, you know, because she’ll be so captivated by you.” Pope continued to tease. “Yeah, chicks totally dig this whole I’m homeless and I haven’t properly showered in like 15 days look you're going for,” Sarah joined in on the teasing. Kiara laughed and added, “Yeah, and the bit that’s gonna fully seal the deal for her is that you have literally nothing to offer her, like 0 dollars.” Everyone was laughing while JJ just crossed his arms in front of his chest and turned to look out the window, “Talk all you want, guys, but once we get that gold back, you’ll see who’ll dig what.” “The rest of your order,” he recognised the girl’s voice. It was her bringing their food over this time. She placed John B’s plate in front of him and then made her way around the table, next to where JJ was sat. She handed him his plate and bent down slightly, so that her lips were on the same level as JJ’s ear, “Next time you decide to share your criminal plans, you might wanna talk a bit more quietly.” She whispered, setting his cutlery down for him, “Oh, and, you might be charming wherever you come from, but your friend’s right. That shit doesn’t work around here.” She said, patting him on the shoulder before walking away. JJ didn’t waste time sitting around to listen to his friends pass comments about what had just happened, he downed his whiskey and practically chased after the girl. “I’m guessing you’ll want another one?” She said, not even turning around. JJ wondered how she knew that he was there. When she turned to face him, the bottle of whiskey was in her hand. “Let’s see… Do I pour you another one and close my eyes about you planning to leave without paying, or do I do what anyone else in my position would do and call the police on you? Hmm…” she pretended to think, her eyes never leaving JJ’s now panicking ones. “Please don’t call the cops,” he blurted out, the whiskey hitting his brain and making him stress out more than he wanted to admit to, “Look, we - we were in a boat accident, we don’t even know how we got here, hell - we didn’t even know where we were up until 10 minutes ago! And we - we don’t have any documents on us, we don’t have any sort of identification, what would you -“ “Relax, kid,” the girl smirked, picking up two glasses and pouring a generous amount of whiskey in both of them, “I won’t rat you out.” She said, handing JJ one of the glasses and raising hers for a toast. JJ clinked his glass with hers, a large smile growing on his face, his dimples becoming very prominent, “Thank you, really… That means a lot.” The girl took a moment to observe JJ, then to look at his friends having a heated conversation at their booth, all of them practically stuffing their faces with food in an almost animalistic sort of way. Could this boy really be telling the truth? Could these kids have been lost at sea with no place to go? She looked back at JJ who was also looking at her. Despite the smile plastered on his face, she could clearly see that he was extremely nervous still. “Hey,” she said, “I told you to relax, didn’t I. I won’t charge you for your food, in fact… I might even have a place for you to sleep and clean up tonight.” JJ’s eyes grew wider at her words, “You what?” She leaned in closer to him over the bar and lowered her voice so that he would be the only one to hear, “Hotel upstairs, my aunt owns it. She’s currently out of town with my cousin. Should be back next Thursday. I think I can fit you and your friends in. You just have to promise to be on your best behaviour.” She said, pulling away and taking another sip from her drink. JJ couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was too good to be true. She was hot and she was willing to help? This must have been his lucky day. Sarah could suck it, and so could the others. Clearly this girl was into him. Why else would she be offering to help? “So, uh, what’s in it for me?” He asked, a hint of mischief in his voice. The girl opened her mouth, but before she could speak, the other waitress groaned from behind her. “Samara, how many times do I have to tell you?” Her croaky voice rang. The girl, who JJ had just learned was called Samara, rolled her eyes and repeated with her colleague, “No drinking on the job, yeah yeah, I know. But Heather’s gone and so is Conner, so who can tell me what to do, really?” She said, finishing what was left of her whiskey, “Besides, Georgia, as far as I’m concerned, since they’re both gone, that leaves me in charge, no? Now get back to work,” she said, making her colleague roll her eyes at her. Samara turned around to face JJ again, giving him a wink, before disappearing into the kitchen. JJ couldn’t believe his luck. He swung his arm over the bar and picked up the bottle of whiskey to pour himself one more drink before returning to his friends. “Guys-“ JJ tried getting their attention. “So what are we supposed to do now? We’re totally screwed!” “They’re gonna call the police on us, hell, they probably already have! The cops could be on their way!” “Guys!” JJ yelled, catching even the bikers’ attention. His friends looked up at him, worry filling all of their eyes. “You’ll never believe what I’m about to tell you, oh, and Sarah? You can eat your words.” He smirked before telling them what had just happened. “Hold on,” said Kiara, her face revealing her confusion, “So this random girl in this random place just randomly said that we can crash here until when?” “Next Thursday, or was it Tuesday? What day is it today?” JJ scratched his head. “JJ!” Kiara slapped his arm, “What if this is a trap? It sounds too good to be true doesn’t it? Like, what’s in it for her? We don’t even know her! What if she’s a murderer or something?” “She’s right, you know,” Cleo chimed in. “She is,” said John B, “But we have nothing to lose, literally.” Pope nodded, “I’d usually agree with Kie, but John B’s right. We have nothing to lose. And what if she calls the police? What could even happen then? We get put in jail for agreeing to sleep in a hotel for free? Come on, guys, I’m sure we can all agree that a bar of soap and a normal bathroom would do us good. I mean, we stink.” Everyone laughed at Pope’s remark before Kiara turned to JJ again, “So what’s the plan?” Realisation just struck JJ that he didn’t in fact know what the plan was. Samara had told him virtually nothing about how any of this would go down. Where were they supposed to meet? Was she going to take them to their rooms? Would they all be sharing one room? He was so busy thinking about how all of this would go down, he barely noticed Samara herself passing him a note. It was taken out of her colleague, who JJ now knew to be Georgia’s notepad. The note read in messy handwriting:

Bring your friends to the lobby. Straight down the hallway by the bathrooms.

JJ turned the piece of paper towards his friends and they all got up, rushing towards the hallway by the bathrooms.

#outer banks #jj maybank #obx #pope heyward #kiara carrera #jj one shot #jj smut #obx smut #sarah cameron #john b #jj x oc #netflix #love #smut

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mikrowrites · 3 years ago

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andromeda

(vignettes cut from cottages of constellations; can be read as a one-shot)

c!wilbur x reader

summary: a series of memories from y/n’s perspective; the war, the death, the stars, the secret, and the meeting.

warnings: fluff, angst, violence, war themes, bad mental health situations, death, language, manipulation

a/n: this is basically a bunch of scrapped ideas from cottages of constellations that i shoved together bc i already had them written and have been hitting a writer’s block with pt 3. the only part of this you should regard as “canon” is the syndicate vignette, that will be in pt 3. enjoy!!

Y/n and Wilbur kept many secrets.

That was not something unknown by any, not a surprise to some. The two seemed to have words unspoken, existing between the glance of an eye or a brush of a hand, a nod of a head and a ever so soft sigh. Y/n and Wilbur kept many secrets to themselves and themselves only.

The cottage was one. A secret kept along a peaceful riverbank, until the price of TNT seemed higher than that forgotten paradise. There were some other secrets too. Some inconsequential, some almost burdening.

Y/n and Wilbur kept a secret they chose to not share with anyone. A secret that would be for the best if left unsaid.

But the price of freedom would prove higher and more demanding. The price for a tall brunette man to whisper the words into an enemy’s ear, for the enemy to relay it to someone who was once deemed an old friend.

The moment Schlatt spoke the secret out loud to Y/n with threatening intent, everything came crashing to the ground.

It was a secret Schlatt would die with.

—

The War…

Y/n arrived as the sun rose at dawn.

Wilbur was there to meet her, his uniform jacket unbuttoned messily and his cravat askew. As she approached him closer he smiled softly, but the smile was tired, aching, the light in his eyes dimmed by the bags beneath them.

What was the saying, “winning is easy, governing is harder”?

Y/n feared both feats were insurmountably difficult.

“Hello, love.” Wilbur sighed, striding the distance of Y/n’s approach and pulling her into his arms, holding her like a lifeline.

“Hey Wil, it’s okay, I’m here.” Y/n reassured.

He pulled away with a less tight smile, wrapping his fingers around her own, pulling her towards the majestic walls.

“Y/n L/n, welcome to L’manburg.”

And L’manburg was small, and undeveloped, and nothing quite impressive really. But it was her lover’s nation, and to Y/n it looked like a spectacle of heaven. “It’s wonderful.”

Wilbur led her into the camaravan, where battle plans and declarations had been hung and placed about, with an occasional empty bottle or a misplaced piece of weaponry.

Y/n had fought in wars before, in another life, far from this server. She had played the part of diplomat, of ally, of enemy. It was all a language familiar to her like breathing, and she suspected Wilbur was well aware, why else would he write begging her to join the front lines?

She hummed in thought, running her hands over a tabletop. “When’s the next battle, then?”

“Tomorrow.” Wilbur replied simply.

Y/n nodded. “Okay. Where do we start?”

Wilbur smiled once more.

—

The Death…

Y/n struggled against Quackity’s hold, screaming her throat raw. “YOU KILLED HIM!”

Smoke from the firework barrage still lingered on the execution box, Schlatt turning from his podium to Y/n. He smirked. “Y/n, my dear, he was a traitor. You know what happens to traitors.”

Y/n spat at his feet, the man laughing. “That’s cute. Remember Y/n, I hold all the cards in my hands. You don’t want to step out of line, remember? Who knows what secrets could get spilled.”

“I don’t give a fuck.” Y/n glared, her eyes like fire as the two stood off against each other on the podium under Manberg’s watching eyes. “Because I am going to fucking kill you before you even think about it.”

Schlatt laughed loudly again, facing the crowd. “Do you hear that, folks? Miss Y/n is going to kill me!” He lowered his voice, leaning so he was face to face with her. “That’s treason, my friends.”

Y/n hardened her eyes, as Quackity let her arms go. She stepped forwards, her hand on the hilt of her sheathed sword. Everything was quiet, not the crowd’s jabs or cries were heard by her, not even Niki’s protests to spare her best friend.

Schlatt smiled, unsheathing his own sword as Y/n stood her ground, preparing to produce her own in hopes of taking down the tyrannical man once and for all.

“These were not the ideals of L’manberg.” Y/n shouted so the audience could hear her. “And Manberg should be no different. And I’m getting really fucking tired of you hurting everyone and everything I love. So yeah, I’m a traitor, because I value people over a country.”

“People you’d be willing to lose a life for?” Schlatt jeered.

“Time and time again, yes.” She verified.

Schlatt shook his head in amusement. “Y/n, the patron saint of L’manberg. You’ll fall as easily as any man.”

Y/n smirked, drawing her own sword. “Good thing I’m not a man then, yes?”

“STOP! Stop!”

The two adversaries’ heads whipped over, catching the glimpse of a tall brunette in a brown trench coat walking down the aisle of seats, hands out in a preventative gesture. “Stop.”

“Wil…?” The man who left her behind. The man who promised safety. The man who most importantly, loves her. The former President, to protect his former First Lady.

Schlatt’s sword ran through Y/n’s body. Wilbur screamed.

The girl gasped, grasping Schlatt’s shoulder’s with tight fingers, looking at him in shock. He had gotten the upper hand. Y/n had never lost a duel, yet this one was over before it had even started because she did the one thing she had been trained to never do in battle.

Y/n found distraction in a lover.

Wilbur would always be her hubris.

Schlatt leaned over with booze-tainted breath to whisper in her ear. “Your secret is safe with me.”

He then ripped the sword out of her, and everything went black. The last thing Y/n heard before waking up laying in the soft grass of a forest was the sound of Wilbur shouting her name.

Y/n was killed by JSchlatt

—

The Stars…

Long ago, in a world different from where she was now, Y/n’s mother had taught her every constellation strewn across the night sky. The young girl would marvel at her mother, eyes shining with curiosity and awe as the soft-spoken woman would point to each cluster of stars.

Life was simple then, before war after war Y/n was forced to fight and win. Before aching loss and hurt.

Y/n laid on the angled roof of Philza’s house, her lips parted slightly as her eyes traced designs of warriors and beasts and lovers. Her breath fogged into the night sky, the girl indifferent to the cold surrounding her.

“Kid, what’re ya doin’?”

She flicked her eyes down to where Technoblade stood beneath her, staring up at her form with disinterest but yet a glint of confusion or curiosity.

Y/n smirked, her eyes traveling back up to the sky. “Chasing constellations.”

Technoblade definitely had the right idea to be a tint worried at the sight of Y/n on a roof, staring off into nothing. It had been a week and a half since they had both blown up New L’manberg, and her mind was undoubtedly conflicted. Techno supposed if he were in the same situation, he’d feel the same perhaps. But now (though he’d never show it) he was just concerned of the well-being of his old friend.

So Technoblade was immensely surprised when Y/n patted a spot on the roof next to her and said: “cmon”.

The blood god was silent and still for a moment before pulling out his trident, using it to launch himself up and land gracefully onto the roof next to her. The girl didn’t flinch a bit, just turned back to the night sky.

Y/n looked tired, Techno noticed, but yet relieved. He hadn’t seen her this relaxed since their last war fought together away from this server, where she had spoken of a kindhearted brunette she was running away with after the battle’s conclusion.

Technoblade sat next to her, the girl sighing. “No more wars, Techno. I’ve fought my last one. I’m tired of being a pawn in someone’s game, of breaking myself for others.” Y/n huffed out a laugh. “I think I might try that retirement plan.”

“Retirement is overrated.” Technoblade groaned. “So if I made you an offer, you’d refuse?”

Y/n shrugged, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs, resting her chin on her kneecaps. “Depends on the offer. I’m pretty done being taken advantage of.”

Techno turned to look at her. “All these years and you don’t trust the proof I wouldn’t.”

“Can’t blame a girl for having trust issues.” She grumbled. “What’s the offer?”

“I’m putting together a group of people with common ideals. Anarchy, we’d be there to abolish these kingdoms’ governments before they can cause more death and destruction, cause more Wilburs.” Techno explained, the girl turning to him at the sound of her ex-lover’s name. “We’re called the Syndicate.”

Y/n murmured the name to herself, furrowing her eyebrows. “Who’s we?”

“Philza and I. Zephyrus and Prostileus. And, potentially, you.” He stated. “Codenames.”

She turned back to the stars, silent for a few minutes. Technoblade patiently sat in the quiet, letting the girl mull over her thoughts. It had been about five minutes when he spoke up. “So? What’ll it be?”

Y/n pursed her lips, before parting them with a soft exhale. “Andromeda… call me Andromeda.”

Technoblade smiled at his old comrade in battle, now considered an ally and friend.

“Welcome to the Syndicate, Andromeda.”

—

The Secret…

Y/n wasn’t sure how long she had sat in the makeshift cell. Had it been days? Weeks? She didn’t know. All she knew was locked away to stand trial for “aiding fugitives in escaping”.

Her thoughts drifted to Wilbur, as they usually did in moments like these, where she fought desperately to remember the sound of his laughter or his loving assurances. Y/n hoped he and Tommy were safe, and she knew they were smart so they would be.

But she feared for Fundy as well. They had spoken on the night he announced his campaign for president, their hushed voices behind the podium as the rest of the server were asleep.

Y/n met the boy in the shadows of the podium, Fundy looking at her for some kind of reaction. Would she shout in anger? Cry in sadness? Running against his father was a betrayal, he should be reprimanded by the closest thing to a mother he had.

Instead, she smiled, and hugged him.

Fundy tensed in surprise before wrapping his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder as his hands clutched the back of her jacket.

“You know I have to support and stand by your father,” she started, softly rubbing small circles into Fundy’s back. “but it will never overshadow how proud I am of you.”

“Thank you, mama.” He sighed out, Y/n smiling kindly.

“You are my pride and you are my joy, Fundy. There’s nothing you could do that could make me love you less. Don’t forget that, okay?” Y/n asked.

Fundy nodded his head against his mother figure’s shoulder, still embracing her.

He missed the tears in her eyes as she bit her lip to keep her walls up. Indulging in this moment wasn’t something she was deserving of, and she knew that.

She had chosen to forego this path, it would be unfair of her to try and act as though she hadn’t changed everything.

The door to empty room creaked open, Y/n looking up to meet the eyes of a man she had once thought of as an old friend, but now some who repulsed her more than anything on this server. The man smirked, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Y/n. Long time, no see.”

“Schlatt.” The name sounded like venom on her tongue, Y/n glaring at the man with dark eyes.

“How are you, hm?” Schlatt pulled a chair over for him to sit on, Y/n scoffing in disbelief.

“I don’t know Schlatt, you tell me. What the fuck is wrong with you, you were our friend!” She shouted.

Schlatt sat back in his hair. “I’m no one’s friend here. I’m a president here to run this country.”

Y/n rolled her eyes and leaned back against the wall, the man smirking.

“I want you to join me.”

That made the girl start to laugh, shaking her head. “You are something else, Schlatt.”

“I’m serious, I want you to join me and Manberg.” Schlatt deadpanned.

“Fuck off.” was Y/n’s reply.

Schlatt sighed, standing from where he sat, and paced to another side of the room. “Tell me, does your little lover boy have an infatuation with TNT?”

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows. “Not that I’m aware, and if I was I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Fair enough.” Schlatt said, his footsteps clacking against stone as he further paced. “Well, he recently made some deals with the devil and came into possession of a lot of fucking TNT. You wanna know what he traded for that much power? Secrets.”

She stiffened, eyeing Schlatt warily, her voice barely above a whisper. “Secrets?”

Schlatt hummed, grinning. “Oh yeah. Loads of ‘em. I’m a chronic eavesdropper, so I had to get the scoop. And you’ll never guess what I heard.”

Y/n stood slowly, like an animal bracing for a fight, her fists shaking. She uttered the man’s name in warning, Schlatt stopping and turning to her with a wicked grin.

“You have a child.”

It felt as though all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room, Y/n momentarily forgetting how to breathe. Her mouth felt dry, her body numb. Schlatt laughed, knowing he had her right where he wanted her.

“Fundy’s actually your son! Biologically and everything! And you never told him, you just left!” Schlatt exclaimed.

Y/n burst forwards, slamming Schlatt against the wall and lodging her forearm across his throat. She spoke with a low, dangerous voice. “I was young. I was stupid. And I wasn’t ready to be a mother. I couldn’t be the mother he needed.”

“So you left. And then you come back and you play the part of his mother, while the poor boy thinks your lover fucked a fish? That’s fucked up, Y/n.” He chuckled lowly.

Y/n pursed her lips, glaring into Schlatt’s eyes. “What do you want?”

Schlatt slowly removed Y/n’s forearm from his throat. “I want you to join me as one of my officials. I want you to betray Wilbur and Tommy. And if you don’t…”

“… I tell Fundy your big secret… and then I personally kill him until he’s dead.”

Y/n felt completely and absolutely defeated. She had never let someone have the upper hand on her. Not like this. She remained distraughtly silent, Schlatt nodding Ashe received his answer.

He reached into his pocket, throwing her comm device onto the floor. “Lover boy’s been trying to call you for weeks. You should call him back one last time and tell him to never call again. You know what’s at stake.” Schlatt then turned and walked towards the door. “I’ll have a fine pressed suit for you tomorrow morning and a more comfortable room, then the real work begins. Goodnight, Y/n.”

And he was gone.

Y/n fell to her knees, her body shaking with fear and guilt. Why did she have to be so stupid why did she have to create such deep-sewn weaknesses, why did she leave her son?

She reached for the comms device, her trembling fingers clicking a button as she spoke out in a terrified whisper. “Wilbur?”

—

The meeting…

Y/n hated parties with a passion she could not fathom. The celebration of another war won, a country saved. She was just a wandering soldier, moving from one battle to the next, finding celebration a little tone-deaf.

But nonetheless she stood in the banquet hall, her sash of medals and patches detailing her great accomplishments hung on her frame, with the world’s most uncomfortable dress covering her. Technoblade had told Y/n to liven up, drink and dance a little, though what a fucking hypocrite because he didn’t show up.

Y/n sipped her champagne, leaning against the bar top, a bored expression laid across her face as she traced circles into the wood with her finger. She didn’t register the boy standing next to her, eying her with curiosity before he spoke up. “One vodka neat, please.”

She finally indulged to meet his gaze, the tall brunette smiling and offering his hand. “Wilbur Soot.”

Y/n knocked back the rest of her champagne, before shaking his hand. “Y/n L/n.”

“You seem bored, Y/n L/n.” Wilbur observed.

She scoffed. “Parties aren’t really my thing.”

“So I can tell.” He quipped, Y/n beginning to question the audacity of this kid. But he just smiled widely, pulling a stool and sitting next to her.

“Look, I don’t know what you want, but if it’s getting in my pants tonight it’s definitely not happening.” Y/n bluntly responded.

“Woah there! Take me out to dinner before we discuss that.” Wilbur defended, retrieving his drink from the bartender.

Y/n couldn’t even tell if the man was joking, but she rolled her eyes anyways. He was silent, she could tell he was trying to size her up. Figure out what made her brain tick, how to read her.

Must be frustrating for him to know he can’t.

She sighed, pulling away from the bar top, smoothing out her despised dress. “Well, thanks for the chat Wilbur, but I’d best be going.”

“Of course. Have a good night, Y/n.” Wilbur raised his drink and tipped it towards her in a kind of toasting or saluting gesture. She was a high ranked militia official anyways.

Y/n nodded and walked away, Wilbur watching her as she left. What she didn’t know, was he could read her like an open book. He saw her pain, her guilt, her stone disposition. But he saw her kindness, her generosity, her beauty. Wilbur was intoxicated by the mere presence of her, and her mystery.

Wilbur just had a gut feeling they’d cross paths again. And when they did, maybe in a space she was more comfortable than the loud and cheering party, maybe he’d offer her a drink, or even a dance. The boy slammed his drink on the table before standing, and rushing across the room.

Why wait when you know?

Y/n felt a gentle hand on her wrist, the girl turning to see Wilbur. She raised an eyebrow in question as he released his soft grip, and held his palm flat out in front of her. “May I have this dance.”

She had seen years of pretty boys offering her drinks and dances and the world. Each disappointed, each never following through. But Y/n looked up at Wilbur, and she could see the world in his brown eyes, she could see hope and chivalry and mirth. She pursed her lips, the boy seeming to deflate at her monotone and silent response.

Y/n took his hand, to the boy’s surprise. “One dance. That’s all.”

They danced all night. And laughed all night, more than Y/n had in years.

Y/n had never felt more alive than the night she met Wilbur Soot.

#wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur soot imagines #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot x y/n #dream smp imagines #dream smp imagine #dream smp x reader #dsmp imagine #dsmp imagines #dsmp x reader #c!wilbur soot x reader

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awkwardspontaneity · 3 years ago

Note

Hello again. And this is a request)! I haven't had any ideas for this query for a long time. I finally finished reading Andrey Dyakov's book "To the Light" and went through all parts of the Metro from Dmitry Glukhovsky (THIS IS NOT AN ADVERTISEMENT FOR THE UNIVERSE!!!!!1!1!). And in general, I like the theme of the post-apocalyptic world, it inspires me. And I would like to make a request on this topic, so. What would be the reaction of the champions if a reader from our world (only after a nuclear war) ended up in botw (description for the reader: she is from the Primorsky Alliance, this is St. Petersburg, she also has a Pecheneg control panel (I'll try to insert a St. Petersburg metro map)). Thank you in advance and wish you good luck in your recovery.

Alright I think I understand this, I'm going to do this as a reader from a post-apocalyptique World because I haven't read this book but I love me an apocalypse au/ trope. Thanks for the request!

So you come from a world where there's been a war that nearly brought the world to it's end so imagine your surprise when you suddenly wake up in a new world.

The first thing you notice is that you can see the sky. Home is covered in thick layers of ash and smoke that block the sun so it's remarkably bright.

You're searching your new area and making sure you have all your important gear still when you notice the mechanical noise

This tiny egg sits in front of you and just as you're leaning down to poke it you hear voices and running

Survival instincts take over and you duck behind a large rock hoping whoever it is keeps running

Unfortunately this egg crawls over to you and starts pulling on your clothes leading the curious people straight to you

Taking up a fighting stance you find a duo standing in front of you. The blonde girl steps forward to the egg and when it beeps she asks if you were the one it brought

She explains that the egg can bring people to help them in the war and it must have gotten you. You want to just walk away and go find a tree to hide in but something in her doe eyes makes you stop

You finally agree to at least learn about their world and see if you can help them and the girl cheers. You swear you see the bit soften at the sight of her happy, and you wonder what hardships could be in this beautiful world

They take you to a massive castle that has you feeling unsafe for some reason. You can't tell why but as they lead you to the King your flight response is going crazy

The king immediately demands why Zelda is spending her time collecting commoners when she should be praying to the goddesses for her powers to unlock. You suddenly get why this place made you feel like an animal in a corner. Unable to take the king berrating the kind girl you step up

"I come from a time where the world has ended. If you want to keep the same from happening to you I suggest you allow your daughter to prepare for war in the ways she can rather than force her to put her efforts into something that may never be achieved"

So maybe you twisted your origin a little but, but you just couldn't take the pompous words. The relief on Zelda's face as you stand next to her proves that you made the right call

The king huff's and says you will work alongside the Champions to prepare for the war. It's then you notice the group standing to the side. You're not sure what they are but the way both your new companions seem to brighten at the group has you trusting them fast

Introductions are taken to a gazebo outside where you explain that although the world's aren't the same, you're sure you can help them prepare for a war and that you promise to do anything in your power

The bird man scoffs and questions the ability of a tiny human compared to those with superior abilities.

You may have judo flipped him to prove your point👀

To be fair that gave you an instant friendship with Urbosa and Daruk, the latter slapping you on the back so hard you thought your eyes would pop out. The smallest champion had a look in her golden eyes that made you believe she agreed with your actions but would never say that out loud

That moment began a friendship and the beginning of a war

You were given access to the war council room where you quickly proved yourself by creating a defense strategy that worked against any monster

You tested this by going out to set up your traps with Link and Zelda. Both were intrigued by your work and the princess was excited for any chance to run tests and get away from praying in freezing lakes

Link appreciated your ability to lighten any mood with sarcastic jokes, something you found he was also very good at. For someone so quiet there was a lot of sass.

Once you both were in a mood after dealing with the King and his temper towards Zelda then you went into town and came across this rude stable hand who also snarked the princess. Yeah he was so embarrassed and ripped to shreds by the two of you that he's never coming near any of you again

This got to Urbosa who was immensely appreciative of you. She was a mother figure towards you the second she found out you had been mostly alone since you were young and had learned to fight for yourself

Urbosa trained you hard to be the best warrior there was and spent time watching the sunsets with you after. She once treated you to a noble pursuit and laughed the whole time as you shouted and tried to make friends with everything you saw. Those poor lizalfos aren't sure what they have more, your sword or your hugs

Urbosa may have told Daruk and he was eager to spend time with you. You may think your friendship would be all jokes but the way Daruk was quick to throw up a shield around you when anything got dangerous told you how much he cared

You were strong after having to fend for yourself and the two of you would have fun throwing rocks around and mining for gems when emotions got to be too much.

You were also both food people along with Link so meeting up for cookouts weren't uncommon

Of course all the Champions we're invited to this but none had the same enthusiasm as you three did. Hey the apocalypse makes you hungry and you'll take any chance for good food

This is where you got closer to Revali. You said you wouldn't apologize for defending your pride but you shouldn't have been so agressive about it. He huffed but you knew he understood how you felt, he would have done the same.

You managed to teach him new way to tie back hair, something you learn when you have to keep hair out of your face to fight. He wants very receptive at first but watching as you twirled strands of your hair into a warrior style he was intrigued. Finally he allowed you to walk him through the steps and you could feel the bond forming

Soon after you were helping to make arrows for the army and revali came up to you. He claimed you shouldn't be making arrows if you have no idea how to use them. He had a point, how could you test new arrows if you can't shoot them

So now you're being trained but the best archer to ever live -his words- and bonding over creating new arrows to use against enemies

You and Mipha were friendly but not very close until one day you and the Champions were helping to fortify the Zora defences and when you took off your jacket your scars were on display. It was then the Champions knew just how much you had been through

You had fought for your life every moment and had seen too much for any person to handle alone. But here you were, smiles and jokes, always ready to lighten the mood and lift up your peers. They would protect you with all they had.

Mipha took you aside and asked if she could try to heal your scars. You smiled softly as you refused, each scar had a story and you didn't want to forget all you had overcome to get here

She smiled understanding your conviction and offered to heal the muscle damage. The marks would remain forever, but maybe she could ease the pain

You looked around at the Champions that watched over you, your friends, and you understood. Softly you agreed.

Things were different now. You finally had friends to have your back. You weren't alone

#legend of zelda x reader #loz x reader #breath of the wild x reader #botw x reader #awkward answers

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bbrandy2002 · 4 years ago

Text

Fool’s Rush In

Chapter 17

This is my @wackydrabbles post for week 87. The prompt is bolded. "No offense, but I'm not interested."

Book: TRR

Pairing: Liam x Riley

Warnings: Drake and some language.

*I was in a silly mood and this turned into a dumpster fire lol and it feels very rushed but I was trying to meet the word count. There may be a little bit of plot in this.

Word count: 1999

------------------------

Liam sat on the floor with his back pressed against the mattress; one leg bent upright with the other extended crookedly out in front of him. Half of a bottle of Don Julio dangled loosely from a hand settled on his knee while two shiny gold rings encircled the pinky tip of his other.

In a fit of anger late last night, he searched for and consumed the first bottle of alcohol he came across in the liquor cabinet. He had no intentions of getting hammered or even a little drunk; Liam just needed something to take the edge off the hurt. Not that he for one second believed a word Riley told him before she walked out and boarded a red-eye commercial flight back to the States.

As Liam pondered her abrupt departure in the early hours of the morning, one thing was for sure: He'd never been in love before, but what he felt for Riley was real -- and reciprocated -- that, "no," she spewed from her mouth when asked if she loved him was a lie.

But why? That was the question he just couldn't figure out.

Having racked his brain for hours and with the sun finally coloring in the darkness of his chambers, Liam set aside his drink and lifted himself off the ground. Every thought that consumed him for the last several hours was riddled with putting the pieces together of why she actually left and why she felt she couldn't tell him the truth. Nothing made sense, yet ruminating alone in his room until he figured it out wasn't going to solve anything; the only way to get to the bottom of this was to retrace Riley's steps from the time she left the ball to when he made his way up to join her a little later.

Stumbling to the bathroom -- mostly from exhaustion and perhaps a little drunker than he realized -- Liam stripped off the tuxedo he wore the prior evening and took a quick shower before heading down to the security office.

-----------

Riley's heavily drooping eyelids popped wide open when the plane shook from another vigorous tremor of turbulence. Gripping the armrests on both sides of her seat, she hesitated to peek out the window but was relieved when she saw the billowy waters of the Pacific had transformed into small, mosaic blocks of land covered by a shadow of the nearly setting sun.

When the aircraft settled again, Riley reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone to check the time, grateful to be landing soon. She planned to go straight home, sink into her bed, and sleep the rest of her life away. Maybe wake up every once in a while to sob again before going back to sleep. Whatever Riley decided to do, she hated Madeleine, she hated Tyler, and she hated telling Liam she didn't love him; the more Riley thought about the stunned look on his face when she said it, the more nauseous her stomach felt.

And the nausea was getting worse.

Riley caught the eye of a nearby stewardess and waved her over; she needed ginger ale, and she needed it fast.

"Can I help you, Miss?"

"I … I need, ginger ale, please." She asked through ragged breaths.

"Let me check and see if we have more." Riley nodded appreciatively.

"Hey. Don't I know you from somewhere?" A relatively large guy in the center seat, whose sweaty arm flab had been lodged in Riley's shoulder since takeoff, asked. Oh shit! Riley cupped a tight hand over her mouth and shook her head vigorously; the last thing she wanted was to be recognized.

Or vomit.

While the stewardess searched the service cart for the requested drink, the gentleman's eyes enlarged. "Wait a minute. Yeah! You're that little gal who married some king, with ..." he snapped his fingers before adding in his thick Texan drawl, "the monkey and hookers and shit. Wow, my fiance wants to have a wedding just like yours." He held his hand out to her. "The names Beaver Calhoun, mayor of Slippery Nip, Texas. I guess you could say we're both royals, huh?"

Riley lowered her hand slightly; she was past the point of ginger ale helping, and this guy was blocking her way out. "Beaver, I need you to move."

He stroked his chin in thought. "Well, I don't know, Queenie. I'm pretty content with my life there in Slippery Nip, Not really lookin' to uproot."

"No!' Riley's strained voice responded forcefully, "move out of the way--" She tried to fight it, but her head flung forward and everything came out with her last word.

Beaver looked down at his shirt and quirked a brow. "That's gonna leave a stain."

=============

On the second floor of a run-down Motel 6, just off the beaten path in Las Vegas, Drake tossed in the last of his clothes and airline tickets in a duffle bag and zipped it. Stepping over to the window, he pulled aside the tattered curtains to check if the airport's shuttle van had arrived yet. Disappointed, he grumbled to himself, "Where the hell are you? I'm ready to get the fuck out of here."

The past week had been intense -- well, frankly, the entire month had been nothing short of shit balls. Five weeks ago, Drake landed in Las Vegas for Liam's bachelor party and won big money at the casino, only to have it all pissed away on some old, decrepit hooker who stole his wallet, cell phone, dick health, and what little joy he had in the world. Liam left with a sexy ass wife, and all Drake got was the false claim of fathering triplets and his scowling face on the front cover of the National Enquirer with Dr. Ethan Ramsey detailing the entire sordid journey from pre-surgical rooster rot to the aftercare.

He made a quick $500 for the story, in which he badly needed the money, considering he couldn't leave Vegas until the paternity test results came back. It was enough for his lodging, a couple cans of Beenie-Weenies and a few boxes of pepperoni Hot Pockets; his stomach felt like oil sludge at this point. But as a joke, Leo had sent a box of Ding-Dongs, so it wasn't all bad.

The rotary phone in his room rang out, and he answered the call from the front desk, which let him know transportation had arrived. Drake grabbed his bag, flicked a cockroach off of it, and exited his room into the enclosed hallway.

After stepping onto the elevator and hitting the down button, another person strolled on in a black leather mini-skirt, white see-through halter top, and a pair of fishnet stockings that he'd recognize anywhere.

"You!" He growled at the chain-smoking hooker, backing her up into the corner. "Do you have any fucking idea what you did to me? And I WANT my wallet and cell phone back, now!" He hovered menacingly over the much smaller woman.

"No offense, but I'm not interested in giving them back to you," Pinquee Kittee sneered before reaching into her bra for mace and spraying him directly in the eyes. The rapid burn gave way to her next act of defense when a screaming, blinded Drake was doubled over by a swift karate kick to his newly transplanted organ. "Hiiiiyah!"

Drake cupped himself in anguish, fell to the floor, and slumped over as the elevator doors opened. Pinquee Kittee grabbed his duffle bag and peeked down the hallway to make sure no one was around before making her getaway.

------------------

Just outside of the palace's security office, Liam knocked on the door several times without an answer. It was rare that the King would personally pay a visit. Usually, he would call Bastien and have the head guard look into any issues. With him gone, this just felt like something Liam needed to do in person.

After several more knocks, Liam reached for the door handle and slowly opened it to let himself inside. The lights were off, with only a few CCTV screens displaying various images of places within and surrounding the palace. Finding the light switch on the wall beside the door, Liam flipped them on, and his mouth fell agape at what he saw.

"What the hell happened in here?" He shouted as his hands shot to his hips, glaring around the room.

On the floor was a maze of beer cans, whiskey bottles, remnants of silly string, a five-gallon bucket of butter next to a slip-n-slide, a voodoo doll with Liam's face on it, and half-a-dozen guards passed out.

A furious Liam made his way through, kicking the feet of guardsmen as he stepped along. "Get up! All of you!"

One-by-one, they slowly roused until they realized it was the King in their presence, then they jumped to their feet at attention.

"Would someone like to explain what the actual fuck happened in here?" Liam wasn't one to swear in front of his staff, but there was no way he could hold back after walking in on this scene. His glowering eyes shifted with expectancy from one man to the next, waiting for an answer, until someone finally called out, "We threw Rogers a going away party for his last night on the job, Your Majesty."

"And you thought having a wild party while you were ON DUTY to protect 400 members of the nobility for a major event was the time to do that?

The guard shook his head. "Not at all, Sir. I admit we weren't as attentive as we should have been last night ..." he pointed behind Liam, "but Prince Leo came by and suggested we kick it up a notch."

Liam turned around and caught Leo slithering along the edge of the wall toward the door. "Leo!"

The Prince stopped dead in his tracks, then flickered his eyes and jolted his body as if he were just waking up. Leo looked at Liam, acting surprised to see him. "Liam? Is that you? H-How did I get in here?"

Liam rolled his eyes. "Knock it off, Leo."

"What?” Leo shrugged innocently. “You know what I think happened. I must have been sleepwalking again. You know how I get when I watch The Duchess before bed." He cocked his head introspectively at his brother. “And you do look like the Duke from that movie, you handsome devil you?” He grinned impishly.

Liam stared blankly at his older brother for a few seconds, then turned around to face the others gathered around. "Who's in charge here?"

When one of the men raised a hand, the King stepped up to him and explained, "Alright, I need you to pull up security footage from last night. I want to review everything from the moment I stepped outside the ballroom to meet the Queen around 9:30, and where she went after I went back into the ballroom."

If this were any other day, Liam would have fired every one of them on the spot and sent Leo to Antarctica, but he only had one concern: Finding out what happened to Riley.

As the guard typed in his computer to pull up footage from last night, Leo stepped up to Liam, who was hovering over the guard's shoulder with anticipation. "What's going on?"

Never taking his eyes off the screen, he responded. "Riley went back to Las Vegas last night."

"Wh-Why? What happened?"

Liam let out a breath. "That's what I'm trying to find out."

Leo remained silent before giving his little brother's shoulder a reassuring squeeze and watching with him.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary as different camera footages were switched to follow Riley walking from the main staircase, through several passages, and finally ending with the corridor outside of his quarters.

"Stop!" Liam leaned in closer as the guard paused the video; his entire body tensed up at what he saw.

"Is that ..." Leo scrunched up his face in disgust.

"Madeleine."

___________

Tags: @burnsoslow @dcbbw @ao719 @jessiembruno @texaskitten30 @janezillow @merridithsmiscellany-blog @mskaneko @callmeellabella @queenjilian @sirbeepsalot @drakexwillow @jovialyouthmusic @forthebrokenheartedthingss @bebepac @kingliam2019 @lovablegranny @cordoniaqueensworld @amandablink @liamxs-world @choiceskatie @iaminlovewithtrr @hopelessromanticmonie @charlotteg234 @annekebbphotography @txemrn @thecordoniandiaries @alyssalauren @cordonianroyalty @monsoonbloom12 @mom2000aggie @theroyalheirshadowhunter @princessleac1 @kimmiedoo5 @graceful-leah @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful @thegreentwin @gkittylove99 @neotericthemis @pink-diamond13 @walker7519 @natureblooms24 @yourmajesty09 @gabesmommie1130 @sweatyrysconnoisour @kat-tia801 @debmcg1106 @lifeaskim @choicesstan650 @emkay512 @royalromancer

Liam x MC: @cordonia-gothqueenn

Anything with Drake:@tinkie1973

FRI Series Tags: @narrytheworld @queenwalton @cordonianprincess @zaffrenotes @zilch3 @drrookie @sfb123 @secretaryunpaid @masterofbluff

#fools rush in #liam x mc #liam x riley #the royal romance #prince liam #king liam #bbrandy2002 #wackydrabbles

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lune-hime · 4 years ago

Text

Mosquito Huntress (Chocobros x f!Reader

I hate mosquitos, you hate mosquitos, we all hate mosquitos. This drabble is dedicated to the hundreds of mosquitos that died on my Korean dorm room wall at the hand of my left Adidas sandal :3.

Noct’s was inspired by true events.

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

↞Noctis↠

It was the most horrendous sound. A sickeningly high pitched buzzing that vibrated among your ears at a rapid frequency. It pierced the veil of your dream and forcefully drop kicked you back into the waking world with a start. Just as you regained consciousness an electric clap in the darkness caused you to jolt, almost kicking the sleeping bag off your form. A shadow blocked out the dim moonlight that filtered through the ceiling of the tent.

Noctis’ eyes glowed like sapphires and shown with such an iridescence that meant he had just conjured up magic. Indeed, the clasped hands that were held a few inches above your head emitted a faint blue hue.

“Noct, what are you doing?” You drawled, the close proximity of the light within his palms to your face caused your eyes to squint in irritation.

“I got it.” He whispered victoriously, blinking a couple times in anticipation of your reaction.

“Got what?” You asked just as a large yawn engulfed you.

“The mosquito.” He grinned, shuffling to the door to the tent. He unzipped the zipper just enough for him to wiggle his hand outside, discarding the evil bug. Before you could speak up, Gladiolus’ violent snore ripped through the silence of the night from the far side of the tent. Prompto sleep-kicked the man in the stomach, offering a brief moment of tranquility before the disturbance would inevitably make a comeback.

“Did it die a painful death?” Your voice was devoid of sympathy and the seriousness on your face made Noctis chuckle as he sat cross legged next to you.

“I zapped it before it could land on your face. It died a quick death, sadly.” He stated in a hushed tone, gently brushing flyaway hairs from your forehead.

“What a shame. Still, well done.” You praised, reaching up to give his cheek a few lazy pats. He leaned into your touch, so much so that your drowsy limb flopped down onto the ground.

“What were you dreaming about?” He inquired softly. He was uncharacteristically chatty at this time of night for a boy who needed at least two naps daily.

“I was being serenaded by a beautiful man.” You grumbled. You were still peeved you were abruptly whisked away from the gentle, moonlit guitar strums and the man’s ethereal voice.

“As beautiful as in real life?” Noctis mused his lips curling into a smug smile. Your eyebrows knit in confusion.

“The man from my dream is real?” Your fatigued features contorted as your half asleep brain actually contemplated being able to manifest dreams into reality.

Noctis scooted so close to you that his leg was bushing against your side. He leaned down and stopped when his face was centimeters from your own, whips of his hair feathering your cheeks.

“He’s right here.” Noct stated lowly, his tone as smooth as the sea that resided within his eyes. Their serene waves were beginning to lull you to sleep.

“No he's not. Ignis is on the other side of the tent.” You replied cheekily, now unable to keep your eyelids from falling. Before Noctis could respond you tugged on the fabric of his tee shirt and dragged him back down into the sleeping bag. You may have been exhausted but you always had enough energy to tease your prince.

↞Prompto↠

It was hot. Painfully hot. The kind of hot that once the humid air left a wet kiss on your exposed skin it clung to your form and every surface in the sun-exposed living room. The heat was slowly sizzling you alive and you were beginning to feel like a shrimp in a hot pot. A blonde shrimp was nestled atop of you, pressing your clammy body further into the plush sofa. His gentle puffs of steamy breath seared your neck and his limbs encircled you, involuntarily incubating you. The electric chattering of the fan and the low hum of the unattended television masked the otherwise curdled silence of the room.

Slowly rising from your slumber just as the sun was rising in the morning sky, you became fully aware of just how sweltering you were. And no matter how much you loved cuddling with your sunshine, he needed to get off of you otherwise you would dissolve into a pool of sweat. Wiggling around under him, you groaned when he clasped onto you tighter, burying his face further into the crook of your neck. You gave an exasperated sigh and now felt even stickier than before. You began to push him off once more, this time a bit more forcefully, when you saw it. The unwanted visitor stood out against the pale skin of his back like Gladiolus at your high school dances.

So you did the only thing you could do to ensure it wouldn’t escape. You smacked his back. Hard . The clap of skin on skin resounded through the apartment and caused a few pigeons to anxiously fly off their perch outside of the windowsill. The rapid flapping of wings was immediately followed by Prompto’s squirrel like squeak.

“WHAT’S WRONG?” His voice ascended to octaves that seemed impossible to reach. He was now very awake, disoriented, and in pain. He shot up to straddle you, sinking back onto your hips and reaching up to clutch the point of impact. There was a deep red mark already blossoming on his shoulder blade. Your eyes held pity until you saw the tiny daemon dust the skin of his upper arm.

“PROMPTO ITS ON YOUR ARM!” Your manic tone only skyrocketed Prompto’s anxiety. He recoiled when you leaned over to deliver another powerful hit. The poor boy was trying to grasp if he was still asleep and experiencing a nightmare.

“WHAT ARE WE AFRAID OF AND WHY DO YOU KEEP TRYING TO HIT ME?” He exclaimed on the verge of tears.

“MOSQUITO!” You rapidly pointed to just below the sleeve of his tank top, the dark spot illuminated by the warm bands of sunlight. Prompto let out a sound resembling a duck being squeezed.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU WARN ME SOONER?” His limbs were in a jelly-like frenzy as they slapped every exposed surface on his body. In the fray, it had strategically darted away from the hurricane of body parts but made its appearance once again when the storm had calmed.

“IT’S ON YOU NOW!” Prompto wailed, causing your eyes to grow wide.

“WELL THEN GET IT OFF ITS GOING TO SUCK MY BLOOD!”

“I DON'T WANT TO HIT YOU.” He whined, shifting apprehensively in his seat. He brought his hand inches from where the mosquito rested on your clavicle but hesitated before the glistening skin.

“I HIT YOU BEFORE ITS OKAY, IT EVENS OUT!” You encouraged, scooching closer to him so your knees touched. You craned your neck to give him a larger area to work with.

Reluctantly, Prompto’s palm came into contact with your collarbone a little too gently. You shot him an amused smirk.

“That was weak.” You said. He rolled his eye and when he removed his hand, the mosquito had been vanquished. You both exhaled a steamy sigh of relief.

Suddenly there was a brisk knocking at your door. After exchanging wide eyes, Prompto padded to the entryway. Before opening it, he discarded the carcass into the trash bin and gave his hands a few thorough wipes against his sweatpants.

A very tiny, unamused woman was standing in the hall. A lit cigarette hung lax from her right hand while the other rested on her hip. He blinked a couple times, unsure of what to say.

“Do I need to call the police or is yelling ‘It’s okay, hit me’ a kink of yall’s?” She said as more of a statement than a question, her voice gravelly. When she exhaled, a large puff of smoke blew into Prompto’s now reddened face. He tried to dodge it unsuccessfully and coughed before explaining.

“Uh, no, to both. We’re fine. We were just-” Prompto started, struggling to battle the creeping mortification brought on by the woman’s assumption. She abruptly held up her hand, cigarette dangerously close to Prompto’s mussed bangs, and turned to walk back to her apartment.

“I don’t need a detailed description of what you like to do in bed. Just keep it down.” She imparted, her voice cracking like and unpaved road, leaving Prompto a sputtering mess.

A week later, the whole floor of the apartment complex was convinced you and Prompto had an affinity for bug and bug killer role play. It would take you several months to live this down.

↞Ignis↠

“Darling come to bed.” Ignis’ command was more of a sweet invite than an instruction as he was far too drained for anything else. It had been a longer day than usual at the Citadel and all poor Ignis wanted to do was feel the sweet embrace of sleep.

“No.” You retorted stubbornly, not wavering from your defensive post next to the bookshelf. There was no way you would be able to go to bed with that thing watching you, waiting until the vulnerability of sleep overtook you so it could feast upon your blood.

“Please.” He pleaded, his level tone turning into a slight whine by the end. This was the seventeenth time he had asked you. Yes, Ignis was keeping count.

“No, not until it tastes my blade.” You spat, eyes narrowing as you tried to focus in on the tiny intruder’s location.

“You are unarmed my dear.” Ignis’ lips curled into a smile. He discarded his book on his lap and resigned to watching your antics. If he couldn’t stop you, he might as well enjoy the scene before him.

“My hands are my blade.” Your statement was quickly drowned out by a yelp as the mosquito fluttered off the wall. Your body contorted in ways Ignis never knew it could to avoid any possible contact with the creature as it floated a little too close for your liking.

Ignis snorted at your response, lightly biting his bottom lip to swallow a chuckle. You looked more focused on killing this spec of dust than you did hunting a coeurl. No matter how silly the situation was, the glint of determination in your eye and over exaggerated reactions had Ignis regarding you with adoration. He adjusted his position against the headboard, satin sheets pooling softly downward to reveal his bare chest. His hair was still damp and mussed from his shower and thin frames laid low on the bridge of his nose. If you weren’t so preoccupied by the mosquito you surely would have been more than distracted by his appearance.

You circled the room and randomly hit any surface that harbored any substance that vaguely resembled a mosquito. When you accidentally slapped your thigh instead of the side of the wardrobe Ingis’ melodic laugh broke the tense air. You shot him a glare that could melt ice and stuck out your tongue.

Just as he was going to coerce with you once again, the small creature buzzed just under the rim of his glasses. He silently followed the bug with his eyes until it landed on the nightstand next to the bed.

“It’s over here.” Ignis gave you the tip, gesturing to the tiny dot resting on the mahogany.

“Smack it!” You screeched, excitement flooding your veins at the proposition of a peaceful night’s sleep.

“No.” Ignis said smoothly. He was always one to push your buttons. Even though he could end this ridiculous hunt with a single swipe of his palm, he felt teasing was a much more entertaining option. You gasped at his betrayal.

“You’re the one who wants it dead, not me.” Ignis responded innocently, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Come on, the minute its dead I’ll come to bed.” You pouted, attempting to bribe him with cuteness. Ignis shook his head and pursed his lips. It took everything in him not to start laughing again.

“But I’m so comfortable.” He dragged out each syllable, flopping down and spreading out so he took up the entire surface of the bed. His eyes resembled the greenery of rolling hills against the horizon as they regarded you from under his eyelashes. They almost made you forget about the task at hand. Letting out an annoyed whine, you turned your attention once again to your prey.

You thanked your crownsguard training for the lightness of your feet as they padded silently against the wood floorboards until you were within smacking distance. The moment your hand met the nightstand with a satisfying crack, a triumphant smile spread across your face. There was no way it could have survived that hit.

“I take that as a fresh kill?” Ignis questioned and propped himself up on his elbow.

“Yes, add another to my kill count.” You turned towards him, still beaming, and held up your palm to show him the bounty of your hunt. You playfully shoved your hand near his face, giggling when he struggled to push you away. He laughed, grimacing when it got a little too close to his cheek.

“Lovely, darling. Now go wash your hand and let's go to bed.”

↞Gladiolus↠

The air conditioning revved to life with three crisp clicks once your sweaty fingers tiredly turned the dial to the max setting. Your corner of the vast training room was now gradually flooding with a frosty breeze that prickled your clammy skin with delightful icicles. A satisfied sigh left your parted lips, thankful to be relieved from the stickiness of hand to hand combat. Your butt was practically glued to the bench as you let the polar vortex cool you down. The grunts of other training Crownsguard members and the slams of bodies hitting the padded mats were muffled by the pulsing in your ears as you gingerly patted the sweat from your neck and face with a towel. A few paces from you Prompto laid sprawled out on the floor, his chest heaving with heavy breaths.

“Don’t get moody, Prompto. She manages to overpower me half the time too.” Gladiolus nudged the deflated blonde with the toe of his boot and flashed you a cheeky grin.

“I know, I know. But the only one I’m ever able to take down besides the new trainees is Noct.” Prompto sighed dramatically.

“Well, that’s not a challenge at all.” Gladiolus snorted and passed you a water bottle, the condensation feeling lovely against your clammy palms.

“He might be easy, but he cheats by warping.” You added, rising from your seat to stand directly in front of the air con. The rush of cool wind felt heavenly on your back.

“Exactly.” There was no emotion in Prompto’s voice. He turned his head agonizingly slowly to look at you, gaze empty. You choked on your mouthful of water at his melodrama.

After taking a few generous swigs from his own water bottle, Gladiolus sauntered over towards you. Rather than standing next to you, like you expected, he grabbed your arms and moved to stand behind you. The action stole the euphoria of the synthetic wind and you whined in protest. He stretched his arms out on your shoulders and rested his chin atop your head.

“Well lately the only one who’s been kicking my ass is Iris. Besides the Marshall, of course.” You coughed as you wiped the droplets of water from your chin with the back of your hand. A giggle bubbled from your chest when you felt Gladiolus tense.

“Oh yeah, she’s getting good. It took her even less time to take the big guy down last week.” Prompto chuckled, vitality slowly flooding back into his system. Gladiolus visibly shuddered and released you from his hold to walk back over to the mat.

“She’s getting too good.” He mumbled as he rolled his shoulders.

“You wanna fight her next time instead of me, Prom?” You suggested jokingly. Gladiolus snickered, making Prompto faintly kick in Gladio’s general direction.

“No thank you. I’ll stick to the 15 year olds and Noctis.” He huffed as he pulled himself off the ground. His movements were like a piece of tape being tugged off of the floor painstakingly slowly. Once Prompto had vacated the training space, Gladiolus threw you a playful grin. He got into a fighting stance, his knees bent and arms angled for combat.

“Ready for our spar, baby?”

"Wait." You stated, attention on the corner of the air conditioner. Gladiolus squinted in the direction of your gaze.

"I will NOT train with this uninvited guest watching me." You declared, slowly rounding the corner of the machine. Prompto let out a quiet huh while Gladiolus shook his head.

“She really hates mosquitoes, doesn’t she?” Prompto asked rhetorically, fanning the sweat from his face with his hands. Gladiolus smiled fondly when you untied your shoe and attempted to use it as a killing device.

"Mhm. Honestly, I think her determination is pretty adorable." Gladiolus responded, not taking his eyes off you.

"Gladdy-" You whined when your target flew too high for your hands to reach. “I need your help.”

You beckoned him over with haste and he padded over with an amused glint in his eyes.

"Give me a boost, it's too high for me to reach." You tapped his shoulders and gestured for him to get down.

“What do I get in return?” He asked rather innocently. Your eyebrows shot up, expecting something more suggestive.

“I’ll treat you and Prompto to ramen when we’re done here.” You proposed, holding the shoe at eye level.

“Hell yeah!” Prompto cheered from the towel rack.

“Done.” Gladio hummed in excitement and knelt down so you could climb onto his shoulders. Gladio maneuvered you as close to the metal box as he could without ramming your knees into the side. You smacked the top hard with the sole of your shoe and turned it over for inspection.

“Hah! Die, bitch.” You roared happily, pressing a triumphant kiss to the top of his head. He squeezed your thighs in return and lowered you to the ground.

“My little mosquito hunter.” He cooed, smushing your cheeks together. “Now come on, let’s get this spar over with so I can get some free ramen.”

"Fine, but if I win Prompto has to fight Iris next week." You smirked.

“Sounds like a deal.” He agreed, winking at you as he got into position.

“This isn’t consensual!” Prompto’s protests were quickly forgotten in the throws of combat.

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