📜✨Last Line Tag ✨📜
RULES—share the last line you wrote for your WIP, and then tag as many people as there are words.
i've been tagged by the lovely @kitaychan but hun, YOU CAUGHT ME IN THE MIDDLE OF WRITING THE LAST PART OF MY FIC like how did you even time that lmao. ahhhh... wow. well, please keep in mind this line is very rough and will probably change. but anyways, here you go:
France releases a small noise of surprise. He wobbles, then whimpers. Embracing arms tighten, fingertips catching on suspenders. His whole body unwinds and loosens. He still smells like the sea.
istg this fic was supposed to be pure smut and then somewhere along the way i spilled a whole bunch of FEELINGS and HISTORY all over the damn place. help my word doc is a mess.
too many people to tag so i'll just do these lovely people if they're up for it: @oumaheroes @needcake @historia-vitae-magistras @acemapleeh @koolkat9 @stirringwinds
if i forgot you, pls forgive me. i've only been back a few days and have no idea who is still around.
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Fruk Week 2022: Day 1
@aphfrukweek
Prompt: Pirates / Steampunk
Rating: T
Pairing: Fruk
Word Count: 1109
Author’s Note: You know what’s funny, while writing this this weekend, there was something called the “Uncommon Festival” going in in a nearby town that I went to and it was wizard and steampunk based.
Lady Luck is on Your Side
FEARED SKY PIRATE ARTHUR KIRKLAND SHOT DOWN BY THE ROYAL NAVY
Francis felt like he was going to be sick. His whole body felt cold, but his stomach burned and churned as he read the headline over and over again. He had warned him. He had fucking warned him about this, and yet…He had always hoped he would be wrong. He hoped that Arthur would keep evading the law, stay one step ahead, be it because of wit or just plain luck, and prove him wrong.
But, as logic would have it, Francis had been right. Another victory they could have over Arthur. But it was pointless. This wasn’t like their regular competition, their playful banter, this was serious and it was hurtful. Francis would never see Arthur again. They would never be able to crawl under the pirate's skin, or tease him until his face was flushed and he was sputtering, or share witty quips ever again.
Though Francis had known this day would come, it didn’t stop his heart from hurting or make it any easier to sleep that night.
It was long past midnight, and Francis was still wide awake when they heard it. It was soft, almost hesitant, but even through Francis’s wallowing, they heard it. Pulling their rob tightly around themself they shuffled over to the door, ready to rip the head off of whoever dared bug them ~~in their grief~~ at this ungodly hour.
When he opened the door, he came face to face with a ghost. Or at least that’s what Francis had thought at first. Arthur stood before him, clothes torn, skin battered and bruised, blood dripping from his right arm; he looked like a walking corpse.
Everything froze. Francis couldn’t decide whether they wanted to hug him and never let go or scream at him for everything he had put them through. Before they could choose, however, Arthur began to sway.
“Arthur?” Francis murmured.
Arthur didn’t reply and instead fell forward. Luckily, Francis was there to catch him before he hit the ground. It was by holding him Francis realized why he had come here: where Arthur’s lower arm should have been, there was nothing.
Francis let out a bitter laugh. “You must be the apple of Lady Luck’s eye, for her to let you get away with this.”
—
When Arthur came to, everything ached, and he felt as though the room was spinning. As he became more aware, he realized someone tugging at his upper right arm. Normally, he would be worried, but he felt too weak to struggle. Perhaps the Navy had found him, and this would be the end. At least he could say he had gone out fighting.
“You’re a fucking bastard,” a familiar voice hissed.
Arthur opened his heavy eyes to find Francis, wrapping up his stub. “You…”
“I patched you up,” Francis replied, still sharp, but not as venomous as before, “And I’ll make you a prosthetic. Can’t have you going around without your dominant hand especially since you’ll have to hide for your safety. Unless you're stupid enough to go back out there and put your life on the line yet again.”
“I…”
“I told you this was dangerous. But did you listen? No. You went a fucked about, behind my back, and then when I called you out, I was the controlling one.”
“I loved the sky,” Arthur argued back, “And you knew that.”
Francis shook his head. “You’re so stupid. You loved wealth and power more than me. And you know it. There were less dangerous ways to chase the sky, but you had to choose the one with the least self-preservation but the one that gave you the greatest power.”
“I just–”
“Don’t give me excuses,” Francis snapped, their voice wavering slightly, “Do you realize how I felt every time you left me? I was always terrified I’d hear that you…That you died. You were public enemy number one and I just couldn’t handle the idea of losing you. And when you ignored my concerns I just…I was done.”
“Francis I’m–”
“Don’t. Please don’t. There is nothing you can say. I’ll just make your damn prosthetic, and you can go back to doing whatever the hell you want.”
The two remained quiet as Francis began taking Arthur’s measurements. Arthur knew he had to say something, but whenever he would open his mouth, he’d cower back. He wanted to make sure he got it right.
“I’m…I’m a selfish prick,” Arthur grumbled.
Francis continued to ignore him.
Arthur wanted to be angry, but with a deep breath, he settled himself. He got angry last time, and look where they ended up. “And you’re right. I am stupid. I’m stupid because.” He swallowed hard, grimacing. “Because I didn’t choose you. You can choose to believe it or not, but there wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t think about you. Even in what I thought would be my last moments I…I just wanted to see you one last time. I was never happy after I left. No jewels, no gold, no amount of wealth could compare to waking up in your arms, hearing your voice as it whispered sweet nothings in your stupid frog language, or being able to call you mine. I never stopped loving you Francis…a-and I’m…s-s…s-sorry…I–”
Francis lifted a finger to Arthur’s lips. “You think you can come crawling back to me after all the shit you pulled? After almost giving me a heart attack when my prediction seemed to have come true?” Francis sniffed and wiped his eyes. “I…I’ll be honest. I never stopped either, but I’m not just going to take you back based on pretty words. Prove it.”
Arthur’s pride wanted to argue. It had been hard to say all that and actually admit his messy feelings for once, but deep down, he knew he had hurt Francis. And nothing he could say could fix that.
“Then I will,” Arthur said firmly.
A ghost of a smile made its way onto Francis’s face. “That’s just like you. Never backing down from a challenge.”
He placed his hand on top of Francis’s. “And this is the most important one.”
Francis’s cheeks flushed a brilliant crimson, and, for once, Arthur felt everything would be okay. For a moment Francis just stared at him before realizing what he was doing. He shook himself slightly.
“I-I…um… I need to go see what material I have and what materials I need…Y-You…You just rest.,” Francis stuttered out, rising from their seat.
Arthur watched the Frenchman leave, his heart fluttering in his chest. Perhaps Lady Luck was still on his side.
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