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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 3 years

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It Takes Me All the Way

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Explicit (E) Notes: This is my fic for my @starkerfestivals summer BINGO “flower shop au” square. The following idea hit me in the head a couple of days ago & I couldn’t let it go until the whole thing was written. Here’s my bingo card - if you see something on there you might want written, shoot me a message!!! Word Count: 11.5K Warnings: There’s a tiny bit of smut in here, but it’s me writing, so when is that not the case?

Summary:

'For the next half an hour, Peter learned about flower language and the subtle way to artfully layer flowers so the colors blended meaningfully together. Peter didn’t retain too much about the flowers themselves – they were beautiful and coordinated perfectly, but Tony out shone them all. He was obviously in his element; the simple way the information fell from his mouth spoke of years of study and tons of hands-on knowledge. Not only was the man smart, he had an eye for style and created little living masterpieces without much thought.

By the time Peter worked up the courage to make any sort of move, they were at the register, seconds away from a complete transaction. He was in too deep to let the spark between them go another time. Steeling himself for whatever might come, Peter took a deep breath and leapt. “Hey, before I go – would you like to go out with me sometime?"'

Or: the one where Tony's a florist and Peter kind of digs that.

Read on AO3 here.

----

After taking home the third, consecutive NCA Championship title, Peter craved a tame summer. Unlike the rest of his teammates, he had no dreams of furthering his cheerleading career by becoming a coach; while everyone else flocked to the NCA cheer champ coaching positions, Peter tried his hardest to create some distance between himself and the sport.

Of course, that was easier said than done when his very best friend was also a teammate. Since the day MJ pulled him off the gymnastics mat and thrust him not so gently into the world of cheer in seventh grade, Peter never looked back – not to gymnastics or the people he left behind. He didn’t naturally fit in with anyone, but with MJ by his side and an incredible amount of athleticism, high school passed by in a whirlwind of football games, competitions, and a rich education Peter clung to. Being smart was a way out of the conservative little town that would never accept the truth of who Peter truly was.

When Purdue became an option for the both of them, Peter immediately understood moving to Indiana was the next step in life’s adventure. It wasn’t the big city that he always imagined he’d escape to, but Peter couldn’t argue with a full ride academic scholarship and a spot earned on the cheer team. As a male with tumbling experience and a shocking amount of strength for his size, Peter didn’t have to wonder about his spot on the team – he’d been leading teams to competition wins for years. Stepping out of the narrow-minded world of Springfield, Missouri was the only thing that mattered; the ability to do what he wanted without worrying about where the money came from to do it – that was just a delightful bonus.

Despite the challenges of college athletics and a philosophy major, Peter managed to keep his close friendship with MJ. They’d been a stunting pair for ages and their similarities made it easy to not only be around each other but stay tight knit in their connection. Going through so many of the trials of growing up together, Peter didn’t know what life would be like without her. After coming out and receiving nothing but a hug and a shy “me too”, their bond was cemented – made permanent in a way that something shared tied one person to another.

Their undying friendship and ridiculous commitment to each other was how he found himself balls deep in wedding planning, instead of relaxing in the peace and quiet of his one-bedroom apartment, playing video games and reading all the books he didn’t get to crunch out during the busy school year. MJ didn’t even bother asking him to be her ‘man’ of honor – after popping the question to Darcy, she simply sent him a list of things to do and dove right in.

Between bachelorette parties, bridal showers, and the seemingly impossible hunt for the best bridesmaid’s dresses, Peter hadn’t spent more than a couple days of the break on his own. Though he loved the fuck out of MJ and her soon-to-be wife, he couldn’t wait for the wedding to come and go. A little peace and alone time was exactly what he needed.

Finally, after a week of long nights and last-minute errands, the big day was upon them. The beautiful ranch venue radiated with a rich sunshine, basking the place in a lucky sort of golden glow. Since he didn’t have to spend his entire morning trapped in a makeup chair, Peter got to enjoy the beautiful weather firsthand as he contributed to the set up and decorating. Aside from helping MJ get into the admittedly cool pant suit she planned to wear, Peter’s time was his own until an hour before the ceremony.

Grinning at the thought, Peter pulled out one of the reception hall chairs and sat down heavily. He relaxed into the comfortable wood, reaching up to run a hand through his formidable curls. They were sans gel at the moment; his fingers sailed through the silky strands with ease.

Peter wasn’t aware he closed his eyes until a loud clatter had them blinking open in surprise. Swiftly turning towards the noise, Peter stopped in his tracks at the sight in front of him.

A big gray vase was the source of the noise, there was no doubt about that the second Peter spotted it. What completely took his breath away, or maybe who, was the man holding said vase. Peter saw tanned arms that were toned to perfection right off the bat. It was obvious at first glance that the owner of those limbs worked outside with his hands frequently. The lithe muscles and glorious golden skin tone spoke more of manual work than physical exercise. With his eyes travelling up firm forearms and the swell of a built bicep, Peter noticed the man’s hair next. Tamed by a plain white dad hat, an abundance of unruly curls flipped under the edges of the brim and sides. Peter imagined a flowing head of dark brunette hair he could easily slip his fingers into the depths of.

As if the man knew Peter was staring, he turned towards Peter’s table, an intrigued look on his face. A face that, after taking in the rest of the stranger’s glorious beauty, didn’t seem fair. Well-kept facial hair outlined perfect lips pulled into a knowing smirk. Rich, honey-golden eyes were just visible under the brim of the man’s sweat-stained hat. They seemed to pierce Peter right in the chest, like their unblinking nature dug under his skin and saw everything he tried so desperately to hide. The feeling was unnerving yet so exhilarating all the same. Though he felt so very exposed, Peter wanted nothing more than to narrow the space and get to know the handsome stranger.

Luckily, his chance came a couple hours later.

To stop himself from shamelessly flirting, Peter hightailed it out of the reception hall the second he could, using a check up on MJ as a guise for his obvious escape. Most of his friends were exactly where he left them at the start of the morning – it was a marvel that anything got done when they all got together. After braving the makeup talk and putting out a few emotional fires, Peter’s reprieve came in the form of a man of honor errand.

With MJ’s credit card in hand, Peter made his way to the front of the building where the florist was waiting. He’d been so glad to get out of the bridal suite that he didn’t stop to think about the stranger and the beautiful floral arrangement that’d been in his hand or to make the connection between the two. For the second time that day, Peter tripped over himself when the man came into view. Now that an actual need to speak to him was in sight, Peter didn’t know if he could make his mouth work to take the chance.

Recognition was clear on the florist’s face – though they didn’t know one another, it was hard to forget the very long, very obvious stare Peter was caught in. Those utterly kissable lips were upturned, the pinch around the man’s eyes from the grin making him all the more attractive. Rolling his eyes at the thought (like he needed to be any more attractive), Peter tried to school his features and return the smile with one of his own.

“Hi! I’m Peter, MJ’s man of honor. She sent me to square up the bill for the flowers,” Peter said in greeting. As the space between them narrowed down, Peter nervously reached out, his free hand suddenly taking up the space between them.

A surprisingly soft hand slipped into his a moment later – the touch was firm and efficient, only lingering a second longer than usually appropriate. “Nice to meet you, Peter. Please let MJ know that I really enjoyed the challenge of the flower choices. Geraniums are hard to come by this late in the season.”

Pulling away, despite the desperate want to have the man’s hands all over him, Peter nodded in understanding – most of both MJ and Darcy’s choices were high maintenance and unique. The planning of every step along the way had been an absolute bear. “That’s MJ for you,” Peter agreed with a light chuckle. “We’ve been scrambling around the last week or so trying to get all the details right.”

There was a shared moment of silence where the two simply smiled at each other. The florist seemed just as lost as Peter, the joint look of discomfort and wonder more telling than any words ever could be. For Peter, each second that passed was a small gift he gluttonously got to unwrap until the magic was broken.

“It’s her big day, she should have what she wants,” Tony finally replied, the words and a red blush breaking the silence. “I like the unique stuff, anyway – keeps the job interesting.”

Without missing a beat, a paper invoice was thrust in his direction. “I took out the delivery fee from the total since I was in the area already.”

After that, it didn’t take more than a couple of minutes to complete the transaction – the florist worked swiftly, his fingers nimble and knowledgeable in every movement he made as he swiped MJ’s card and handed it quickly back to Peter. The brush of their fingers in the exchange seemed purposeful, though – especially with the smirk and red blush that followed.

Caught up in how brilliant the look was, Peter didn’t realize there was nothing keeping him there until the shuffling of feet brought the reality of the situation back with a vengeance. As much as he wanted to stay and chat, or ask for a number, or even a name, Peter knew the time wasn’t right. He already felt so caught up – actually having access to his preoccupation wouldn’t be good for his focus. It was MJ’s day; he owed it to her to keep his shit together and make every second of it the very best.

Looking up, Peter shot the other man a large grin before lifting a hand, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. “I better get back,” Peter started awkwardly, “but thank you – for helping make MJ’s day so beautiful.”

With a nod, the florist pocketed his phone and took off towards the parking lot. Peter watched him walk away just long enough to catch the glance over work-firm shoulders. Hazel and brown met for a moment before Peter forced himself to walk away – a large part of him wanted to sprint across the black top to stop the gorgeous man from leaving. Something in the pit of his chest was pulsing with life; the feeling was so foreign that Peter pushed it down and quickly ran in the opposite direction, instead.

Peter got back to the bridal suite in a wonky haze – so much so that he didn’t even realize he walked through the door until MJ’s voice broke through his rampaging thoughts. “Did you get everything squared away with Tony?”

Turning towards her, Peter tilted his head, a crease in his brow appearing in his confusion. “Tony?” Peter questioned as he made his way over to the big table in the center of the room to deposit both the invoice and MJ’s credit card.

“Tony – the florist. I sent you to pay the bill. Please tell me you didn’t get lost along the way.” MJ shot him a knowing look, her hazel eyes blazing with affection. “He was a great help these last couple of months – matching all the colors would’ve been impossible without him.”

His brain halted for a second, the organ doing nothing but processing the fact that his handsome stranger now had a name. Recalling the beautiful face, Peter figured the name Tony fit the man pretty perfectly. With that knowledge, it was quickly becoming obvious that his focus was already shot – Tony with toned arms and a delectably deep voice already took up space there, just waiting to distract Peter at the worst possible time.

Like that moment, where MJ was staring at him with growing concern, waiting for a simple yes or no to her easily answerable question. Peter shot her an embarrassed grin when he got himself back under control. Sheepishly, he reached up to run a hand through his hair. “All is well. He told me to tell you he enjoyed the challenge. Oh, and he nixed the delivery fee – said he was already in the area.” He tried to sound cool as he spoke, to not give his interest away. Yet he knew almost immediately he wasn’t successful – Peter heard his own excitement as the words bounced around in his ears.

“So it’s like that,” MJ said, looking at him much more critically now.

“Like what?” Peter shot back, refusing to look her directly in the eye. She already caught the scent – the second he gave her the satisfaction of seeing the truth in his eyes, Peter would never hear the end of it. Regardless of the very important fact that Peter, despite wanting to more than ever, didn’t even pursue the obvious and very mutual interest.

Instead of pushing, MJ surprisingly let a knowing smile overtake her face.

“I see you Peter Parker.”

Luckily, the hustle and bustle of pre-wedding preparations and nerves that were inescapable, swept the subject right off the table a moment later. Peter happily helped MJ make her finishing touches in preparation for finally meeting her wife at the end of the aisle. Getting so swept up in it all, Peter allowed himself to forget the hazel eyed man for the rest of the evening. MJ and Darcy looked so happy – it was hard to see passed anything other than their beaming smiles and the bright future waiting for them.

----

The next few weeks passed by in a flash. Peter finally got some time to himself and reveled in it, taking advantage of every second of solitary freedom he could purge himself on before his final season began. Movies, books, and his favorite video games were the only thing Peter allowed himself to think about (and Tony, so many of his thoughts were about the gorgeous florist). He even went as far as to bar MJ and Darcy from the apartment when they got back from their honeymoon – it was the least they could do after running him ragged with errands and things over the previous few months. The last thing he wanted to deal with was the bombardment of newly wed grossness; it’d been some time since Peter felt the luscious caress of love against his heart and soul – and jealousy just didn’t look good on him.

When his self-imposed isolation came to an end, Peter begrudgingly got back into a suitable routine. Though cheer practice was different without MJ there, Peter easily sunk back into the drills and full body workouts that came after an entire summer off on their own. Hayley, their coach extraordinaire, pushed them hard in the beginning – it was the best way to filter out those who wouldn’t make it when the season really got started and competition prep took over all of their lives.

Once his muscles got used to the severe beating he took on a daily basis, Peter was more than ready for the year to start. Football games and the atmosphere that came with being a Boiler were a lot of fun; and with his decreased workload as a fifth-year senior, Peter planned to enjoy the easy-going nature of spirit and poms and comradery before the teeth came out and everyone’s battle armor settled into place. When competition season started, the team’s overall atmosphere and driving motivations changed.

Of course, just when Peter thought things were going just the way they should, karma came around to prove him wrong. After a long practice the week before the semester started, one of their flyers fell from a stunt, completely unaware of her contact with the ground’s effect until someone on the other side of the mat screamed. The sight, when Peter allowed himself to look, turned his stomach – he’d never seen a dislocated hip in person before and hoped to never do so again.

After the trauma of having the paramedics all over their turf, the team was given a couple of days off to recuperate. Peter and the rest of the squad planned to take advantage of the freedom by visiting Macy, who ended up having to have emergency surgery to save both her leg and her life. Though he knew a bouquet of flowers wouldn’t change the fact that she would never be able to cheer ever again, Peter figured it was a nice touch and planned to have one made before heading to the hospital.

Googling the closest florist, Peter was surprised to find a shop so near to campus. Many of the businesses surrounding Purdue were food joints or bars that were guaranteed to get a lot of steady business during the semester and over the summer. He wondered, just for a moment, how such a random store managed to survive the college population.

It took one look at the place to understand why the shop fit exactly where it was. Instead of the old lady feel he assumed he’d find, Peter stepped in front of a large windowed building with intricate flower arrangements filling the visible shelves. On the far side of the door was a mural of the Purdue P surrounded by all types of flora. The word Stark’s was camouflaged within the swarm of vines and greenery throughout the painting. It was well done and in the perfect, eye-catching spot.

A small bell over the door rang as Peter walked through it – at least one of the cliches in his mind was accurate. Grinning at the thought, Peter let his legs carry him further into the store, his head on a swivel to look at all the beautiful foliage placed strategically from one wall to the other. Though he knew nothing of plants, Peter understood the art of drawing attention – he participated in a sport that perfected it. From the placement to the intrigue, whoever owned the shop knew exactly what to do to draw a person in.

Peter stopped his exploration when a recognizable voice echoed throughout the space – “I’ll be right with you.” Upon hearing the timber and depth that haunted Peter every night since MJ’s wedding, he almost turned around and walked right back out of the store. He wasn’t equipped for the gorgeous man and his distracting smile and eyes and shapely ass.

Before he could make his feet move or even think, Tony and his inarguable gorgeousness walked in through the back door. His hands were covered in dirty gloves, a newly potted plant in the crook of his elbow. A denim apron covered a plain white t-shirt and black jeans that peaked out the bottom. At the sight of him, Peter had to force himself to keep his mouth closed and the pace of his heart under control – much like the last time he enjoyed the view, Peter wanted to bound across the distance and intimately get to know the other man.

Met with a smile when their eyes locked, Peter reminded himself to remain calm and smile back, to actually act like a human person with thoughts and the ability to actually articulate them. He came in here for a reason, walking out of the store with anything but the arrangement he wanted to bring to the hospital was unacceptable.

Tony, upon recognizing him, took the first step towards intelligible conversation.

“Peter, right? It’s nice to see you in here! How’d the wedding go?”

Blushing at the familiarity, Peter dipped his head and took a deep breath, hoping to collect himself enough to actually reply back. “Hi, yes. Peter. It’s nice to see you, too. I was surprised to see a flower shop in the middle of college central, but your place seems to fit in really nicely. No wonder MJ was pulled in,” Peter said in reply, getting the words out all at once to make sure they all saw the light of day. “The wedding was beautiful. Both brides are blissfully happy, and your floral arrangements were the topic of several conversations I had that night. You do good work, Tony.”

Peter’s heart stopped when Tony tilted his head back into a laugh a moment later. How did someone look so sexy doing something so base? No matter what happened, Peter knew he’d never understand such a thing. To cover up his reaction, Peter added his own laugh to the mix – the sounds harmonious in the empty shop.

“Yeah, I’m sure my flowers were a hot topic of conversation, especially with those beautiful women in the room. Thanks for the kind words, though,” Tony mumbled through a laugh. As he spoke, Tony reached up to brush an errant curl from his forehead – without the hat, the hair on Tony’s head looked unruly and all over the place, untamed and absolutely beautiful. The move left the smallest remnant of dirt on his skin, the black flecks of soil like little calling cards with Peter’s name on them. His fingers itched to reach up and brush them away. Tony’s next words shook him of the thought – “What brings you in today?”

“One of my teammates fell and injured herself pretty severely. We, as a team, decided to rub in the fact that she’ll never join us on the mat again by visiting her now that she’s out of the ICU. I figured some pretty flowers might soften the blow,” Peter explained, coloring at the blunt honesty that trickled from his mouth.

Tony looked intrigued, the other man completely unfazed by Peter’s word choice and candid nature. “Must be a dangerous sport if you guys are nursing career ending injuries.” He signaled for Peter to follow him with a swift flick of his hand.

“I’ve seen some pretty intense injuries in my long cheerleading career, for sure. People flying through the air, and all that. I wouldn’t call the sport in general dangerous, per say – I’d say the expectations we have to meet are what’s dangerous. The look, the difficulty of the stunts we make our bodies do – it’s demanding,” Peter remarked, following a couple steps behind Tony as they walked.

“Sounds misogynistic as hell.”

Laughing at the truth of Tony’s statement, Peter nodded enthusiastically. His heart felt warm from the idea of the random stranger in front of him understanding his struggles better than May and Ben ever could. Tony didn’t know him, and yet Peter couldn’t remember ever feeling so seen. “Oh, it is. The beauty standards are unbelievable and if you’re a male in the cheer world, forget it – you’re fodder for mockery and intense judgement. I fit the stereotype and even I can’t catch a break.”

“What’s the stereotype?” Tony asked with a soft tilt of his head and curiousness in his eyes.

They stopped suddenly then – the space between them was narrowed down to a couple of feet with an abundance of plants surrounding them on both sides. If he took a step or two forward, Peter wouldn’t have too much trouble reaching out and touching Tony’s beautifully tanned skin like he so desperately wanted to. It took too much effort to stop himself from doing exactly that. How exhausting.

Without waiting another beat or giving himself another moment to eye kissable lips, Peter uttered the answer with subtle breathlessness – “Gay. Flaming homosexual is usually what people attribute to the men of the cheer world.”

Color travelled up Tony’s cheeks, his lips quirking ever so slightly. He took his time answering, the man obviously thinking through his reply before blurting whatever he had to say into the universe. “Huh. That’s interesting, considering football players don’t go a play without touching each other on the ass.” Tony stopped for a second, making sure to catch Peter’s eye. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” Peter answered immediately, the words coming out of his mouth without thought. “Its been my life since 7th grade.”

“I guess that’s all that matters, then,” Tony replied softly, a small, familiar smile on his lips. “Now back to your friend – what’s her favorite color?”

For the next half an hour, Peter learned about flower language and the subtle way to artfully layer flowers so the colors blended meaningfully together. Peter didn’t retain too much about the flowers themselves – they were beautiful and coordinated perfectly, but Tony out shone them all. He was obviously in his element; the simple way the information fell from his mouth spoke of years of study and tons of hands-on knowledge. Not only was the man smart, he had an eye for style and created little living masterpieces without much thought.

For what it was worth, the look of surprise that crossed over Tony’s face was brief. It made Peter’s breath catch in anticipation – for the first time in their short acquaintance, Peter felt uncertain. The feeling quickly passed, however; Tony’s face split into a beaming smile, the earlier surprise so easily replaced with seemingly genuine happiness.

“Yeah, I’d love to. I close up shop around 6 – are you free tonight?” Tony’s cheeks were stained with a rapidly darkening, gorgeous blush, hazel eyes shining.

Peter couldn’t remember what the next ten minutes entailed, let alone that evening – yet, whatever it was, he’d happily reschedule. There wasn’t a single thing that would stop him from saying yes to whatever Tony suggested. “I am. How about I meet you out front at 6:30? I’ll call Tasha and grab us a table for 7.”

Tony nodded, reaching across the counter towards Peter’s phone. “That sounds good. I’ll give you my number in case something changes. I’ve got a greenhouse out back and tend to forget myself. I sometimes lose track of time.”

Completely taken by every new thing he learned about Tony, Peter opened the phone and pushed it in Tony’s direction without hesitation. He didn’t expect the older man to be so forward – then again, Peter wasn’t all that surprised, either; Tony owned, operated, and supplied a successful business – he had to know what he was doing to some extent.

Watching with a delirious sort of haze, Peter followed as Tony’s fingers enter his number, then hit the green button to call himself. A phone on the back counter buzzed a couple of times before Tony ended the call and slid Peter’s phone back to him. “See you later, Peter. Tell your friend I wish her a speedy recovery.”

Numb hands grabbed the arrangement off the counter – Peter raised it towards Tony in a mock solute. “Until tonight, then.” Peter muttered the words excitedly. “Bye, Tony.”

He forced himself to keep his head down in hopes of actually making it out of the store. Peter wanted to turn around and look goofily at Tony – now that he knew his feelings were reciprocated, there was nothing stopping his desire from slipping out. Since the wedding, Peter forced the thought of strong arms and bright eyes from his head, just to be haunted by Tony’s beauty when he closed his eyes and let sleep take hold. His subconscious wasn’t on board with suppressing his urges – the fact that karma played a role made the rightness he felt even more valid.

Tony wanted him too.

His visit with Macy and the team was an immediate drag to his mood – the mix of emotions of the people surrounding their friend attempting to express sympathy was exhausting. Every person in the room feared Macy’s position in the bed. Some handled the anxiety better than others. The one bright spot of the visit, of course, was Tony’s arrangement. MJ immediately recognized the man’s work and winked at him knowingly. Peter didn’t stop a grin from slipping across his face; in their silent means of communication, the look was answer enough.

MJ corned him in the parking lot everyone dispersed to an appropriate amount of time later. When the room started to get too cloying, Peter made his excuses, prompting everyone to follow suit. There was only so much sad he could take – especially when a potential light in his dark tunnel shone so bright, waiting for him just hours away. They stopped at the trunk of Peter’s car, MJ leaning against the bumper like always. “Peter, spill. I haven’t seen that goofy look on your face since high school. Did something happen with Tony?”

Snorting at MJ’s impeccable awareness, Peter shifted until he could wrap his arm around her. He leaned his head against the side of MJ’s, closing his eyes. “Your florist is the best-looking man I’ve ever laid eyes on. I maturely held myself back at the wedding to be there with you in the moment and those karma points I banked were good to me today. I walked into Stark’s for some flowers for Macy and couldn’t bear to walk out without a chance to see him again.” Peter turned his head until he could press a kiss to her forehead. “We’re going out tonight.”

“I’m happy for you,” MJ said, her thin arms wrapping around him. “When I first met him, I thought you two might like each other. He’s older, a little weird, smart as hell – just your type.”

“I guess there’s a reason why you’re my best friend,” Peter quipped. “Seriously, though. Thank you – you always point me in the right direction. I really like him.”

MJ pulled back just enough to tap her forefinger against Peter’s nose – the move their sign of affection for years now. “Go get your man, Pete.”

----

To stop himself from pacing up and down the hall of his apartment, Peter went to the fitness center on campus – a hard workout with the weights was exactly what his body needed. Sweating and listening to a couple of playlists took Peter away from his thoughts of dinner later and into a mindset that let him just exist. It didn’t hurt that the pump in his arms looked amazing by the time he packed up and called it a day.

Timing it perfectly, Peter left himself an hour to get back to his apartment, shower, and decide on an outfit that didn’t shout desperate, but expressed his implicit interest, too. Not living too far from campus made it easy to fret about his clothes after a lengthy shower that took every ounce of Peter’s willpower to not masturbate anxiously. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to face the star of his fantasies head on after beating off to the thought of Tony’s tanned skin and gorgeous smile.

After a few restless passes through every piece in his closet, Peter took a large step back, attempting to clear his head. From what he already learned of the older man, Peter knew Tony looked flawless in anything – his style was basic, but the casual nature in which it was worn made the look stylish, anyway. Tasha’s restaurant wasn’t the fanciest place in the world and the pressing feeling of being comfortable in Tony’s presence made an outfit pop into Peter’s head after a couple of long breaths that helped to calm him down.

Peter slipped into his favorite dark wash jeans, smiling all the while – it seemed silly, the anxiety he danced with less than five minutes ago. He’d felt nothing but ease and excitement around Tony, getting himself prepared for a date with the man wasn’t as life and death as he let himself believe. Stressing over something that felt simple in every other way was a new feeling – Peter carried an abundance of confidence with him everywhere. The change made Peter believe whatever might happen with Tony was different and so much better than any other romantic dalliance he’d ever taken part in.

The outfit was finished with a couple small sprays of his favorite cologne – Peter only broke out the fancy stuff for special occasions. With a tug to his rolled shirt sleeve and the slightest adjustment of his collar, Peter took a deep breath and wandered across the room to stop in front of his mirror. His straight legged jeans were clasped at the waist with a black leather belt that cut Peter’s figure dramatically. Both muscular and trim, Peter went out of his way to make sure each attribute was highlighted appropriately. A white and blue stripped short sleeve button up wrapped around Peter’s firm biceps and tucked neatly into his waistband to highlight the narrowness of his hips.

Aside from the rogue curls Peter couldn’t tame, he felt good about the way he looked – the outfit and the confidence it made him feel would be a hit. Tony seemed to like the upfront and honest way he presented himself, there wasn’t any reason to change that now. Allowing himself one last look, Peter turned away from the mirror and made his last-minute preparations – he pocketed his wallet and keys and grabbed a jacket off the coat hook on his way out of the door.

It took less than five minutes to get to Tony’s shop – without the daily traffic on the road, the drive was easy. Pocketing that fact for another time, Peter climbed out of the car excitedly; for the first time in a while, Peter felt ready to date. Tony presented intrigue and want and a curiosity that Peter hoped to cling to for as long as possible. The simple fact that Peter already felt that way spoke volumes.

A door shutting brought Peter’s attention to the sidewalk in front of him. He expected to find Tony turned around to lock the front door of the shop, yet the older man was closing a door on the side of the building instead. Even more interested now, Peter started to head in that direction.

“I live in a huge loft above the shop,” Tony said with a knowing tone, answering Peter’s unspoken question without any sort of hesitation. “When I first bought the building, a storefront wasn’t what I initially had in mind. After I opened up the shop, it made the most sense.” Tony continued to speak as he closed the distance between them.

A soft pair of lips were pressed lightly against Peter’s cheek before he could think, let alone reply. Peter felt his cheeks and neck light up with a heated flush, his body temperature skyrocketing. Tony’s next words only added to the feeling – “You look amazing, Peter.”

Swallowing his awkwardness, Peter smiled in Tony’s direction, finally taking the man in front of him fully. Tony’s legs were encased in charcoal grey jeans that were rolled twice at the cuff. The edges sat nicely against a pair of black and white vans. The tanned arms Peter hadn’t been able to stop thinking about were on display – Tony’s short sleeve button up was perfectly tight against a trim chest and firm shoulders. Other than the stubble Peter figured Tony always had, the man’s cheeks were smooth – highlighting how gorgeous the florist truly was. It didn’t hurt that their fashion senses were similar, either; Peter wondered for a moment where Tony got the floral shirt currently driving him crazy.

“You’re stunning,” Peter eventually managed to say, his breathy words finally breaking his minutes long silence. “You’ve looked great in every way I’ve seen you – covered in dirt, sweaty and working, dressed to impress – it’s kind of not fair, Tony.” Peter let the truth of what he just said sit transparently on his face. They were passed the point of coyness and subtlety; Peter wanted Tony to know he was wanted, even though they hadn’t known each other long.

His bluntness seemed to do the trick – Tony grinned widely in his direction, avoiding direct eye contact with Peter in obvious hope of getting himself back under control. “Charmer,” Tony muttered, stepping a little closer to Peter to emphasis his point.

After opening the passenger side door like the gentleman he was, Peter settled behind the wheel and onto the main road. Tasha was a former teammate, a senior his freshman year, that escaped to Paris – only to make her way back to Indiana and use the knowledge she gained in one of the cooking capitals of the world. Over the years, Silver became a regular place for Peter and the team to spend their classier nights. The food was amazing, and Tasha’s unique style made the minimalism the restaurant was known for interesting and thought provoking. When he called to make the reservation, Tasha cooed in Peter’s ear while saving his favorite table for 7.

They made easy small talk during the drive over – Peter described the pre-season workouts he’d been trucking through while Tony regaled him with a story of his last customer of the day who tried to steal roses by stuffing them down her shirt. As he listened and absorbed, Peter realized Tony was funny and full to the brim of wit – he laughed freely, the sound so joyful, Peter couldn’t help but join in. They were still chatting as the hostess led them to their table and set large menus before them.

Their drink orders were taken almost immediately – the serving staff was familiar with Peter and must’ve been tipped off before they got there. A bottle of red wine was set on the table before either of them could delve back into their previous conversation. Peter poured them each a glass, then pointed at the menu – “Did anything catch your eye?”

“I thought I’d go with the steak frites. Out of all the dishes on this extensive menu, that one immediately came to your mind. Seems like as good a reason as any to give them a try,” Tony reasoned, lifting the wine to his lips as he spoke. “What about you?”

Peter’s cheeks were already starting to hurt from the giddy smile he couldn’t help – talking and joking and simply being with Tony felt so natural. He didn’t have to think to reply casually to whatever they were talking about. “I get them every time I’m here. When Tasha first opened this place, she’d just lay dishes on the table when we sat down. I stopped being her menu taster when she introduced me to the steak frites. I haven’t had anything else here since,” Peter admitted, his cheeks flaming once again.

“You’re one of those people, huh?” Tony shot back, grinning all the while.

“One of those people?”

Tony grinned a little wider, his eyes shining with affectionate enjoyment. Before he replied, the older man slipped his hand across the table, taking Peter’s fingers lightly. “Yeah, one of those people. Someone that gets the same dish at every Chinese or Italian place they go to, no matter the options.” His thumb trailed over the back of Peter’s hand. “You like what you like.”

Feeling a little called out, Peter ducked his head to stop anymore redness from overtaking his skin – he probably resembled a tomato already. It was crazy – to feel so happy being teased. “Okay, yeah – I’m one of those people. I’ll try that one dish anywhere, though.”

They traded a few barbs back and forth until they ordered, and their dishes were sat down in front of them. Without the threat of interruptions in the near future, Peter felt ready to broach some of the more personal topics – for the first time on a date, Peter genuinely wanted to listen and find out more about the person across from him.

“So, tell me more about yourself – who is Tony Stark when not covered in dirt or up to his elbows in beautiful flowers?” Peter cut into his steak as he spoke, hoping the relaxed way he asked the question would take a little tension off Tony’s obligation to answer. The last thing he wanted to do was make their time together feel like an interrogation.

Tony didn’t seem to mind, though – he looked up with a tilt of his head. “What do you want to know? I’m shockingly not covered in dirt a lot of my time throughout the day.”

“How did your love for flowers start? Did you study horticulture in college?” Peter decided to ask.

Smiling lightly, Tony shifted in his seat, preparing himself for story time. “I studied Botany and Plant Pathology, actually. I have a doctorate in Plant Genetics and Soil and Water Sciences. During my plant genetics studies, I did some time abroad that took me to every continent – seeing the wide range of flora that exists in this world was the first time I ever thought about making plants and flowers a daily part of my life to the extent they are now.” Tony stopped to meaningfully catch Peter’s eyes.

“I used to be a professor at Purdue – when the restrictions of the lab became too much, I ditched the academic world and opened up the shop. I’ve been elbows deep in beautiful flowers ever since.” Tony winked in his direction, repeating his words jokingly back to him. “What about you? You cheer and charm unsuspecting old men, I know that. What else do you get up to?”

“You’re the only unsuspecting older guy I want to be charming, don’t you worry,” Peter reassured Tony with a soft chuckle. “When I’m not sweeping you off your feet, I study Philosophy and play a stupid amount of video games. Cheer and all that comes with it takes up a lot of my time, though. Most of my college life has revolved around football games and competitions.”

“Sweeping me off my feet – jeez, Pete,” Tony mumbled. His cheeks were red and the smile he wore spoke of happiness and enjoyment. “I took a couple of Philosophy classes during my undergrad days. What do you plan to do with an entire degree with it?”

A laugh slipped from Peter’s mouth at Tony’s question – though many people asked him that very same thing, no one presented it quite like Tony did. “You’d be surprised by what you can do with a Philosophy degree,” Peter retorted. “I want to be a bioethicist. My minor is Public Health – when I put my cheer shoes away for good, I hope to get a master’s in Bioethics and finally get into the realm I want to be in.”

Tony tilted his head then, his eyes roaming over Peter curiously. “What made you want to get into that? I’m sure there aren’t a lot of young bucks walking into higher education with their sights set on changing the medical world like that.”

Sucking in a long breath, Peter let the question sit on the air for a moment. He swirled the last of his wine in the glass before drinking it. “My parents were in a car accident a couple of days before my 10th birthday. My dad passed away immediately, but my mom – she hung on for an extra couple of days. There was a lot of internal bleeding that they were worried about. In all that worry, they didn’t wait for scan results or blood work to come back before they attempted a new, exploratory surgery. She didn’t make it back out of the operating room.”

Peter paused for a moment, catching his breath. “I was old enough to know someone fucked up and when I looked into it later, I decided I never wanted to let someone feel like I did in a crisis like that. There’s got to be someone who reviews the evidence and makes the ethically just decision to save someone’s life. Why shouldn’t it be me?”

For a second, Peter thought he went a little bit too far – there was a tense moment of silence that felt heavy after revealing something so personal. Peter bit into his bottom lip, not letting himself look up to see whatever reaction existed on Tony’s face. Then, a soft touch brushed across the back of Peter’s hand, Tony’s calloused fingers wrapping around his own. A brief squeeze had Peter looking up, his breath catching at the awe that met him. “I’m sorry to hear about your parents, Pete. Mine aren’t around anymore, either. It’s kind of cliché to say that you saw the deeper meaning of something so tragic, but it’s true. You’re using your pain to make the world better. That’s good shit,” Tony said, his voice hinting at a note of finality – like nothing would change his mind of the thought.

His certainty made Peter feel light, the weight of his emotional burden finally lifting from him after so many years. What a difference it made, to be so easily understood.

That light and airy feeling followed Peter throughout the rest of the evening – he smiled widely as Tony talked about his greenhouse while they shared a small chocolate tart between them. For all that his physical attraction was worth, Peter was genuinely surprised to realize that he felt a personal connection to the florist, too. They led different lives but shared enough similarities to make the time spent together more than worth it. Peter liked Tony and from the looks and subtle touches Tony bestowed upon him all evening, Peter figured Tony might like him, too.

Tony proved that thought to be true when they pulled up in front of his place – “Do you want to come up? I had a really nice time tonight and don’t want it to end.” Tony’s words were said through a saucy smile, his intention more than clear in the look in his eyes.

Peter didn’t hesitate to give his answer – leaning forward, he gripped the side of Tony’s cheeks, using his hold as leverage to pull Tony a little closer. They met in the middle, their lips pressing together softly.

----

Things progressed pretty quickly from there. Tony led Peter up a small flight of stairs into an open room. As expected, plants and flowers were scattered around the place, covering all of the flat surfaces with adequate enough sunlight. A comfortable looking couch and kitchen table took up one corner of the room while a large, king-sized bed took up the rest of the free space of the room. There wasn’t much clutter and all of the things that Tony had, he more than likely used. It was simple and perfect, much like the person who resided there.

Tony didn’t let Peter take in the room for too long – before he could walk around and snoop, Tony’s arms were around Peter’s hips, pulling him close. Peter eagerly met Tony in the middle, their lips sealing together in the delicious slide of tongue and teeth and wet, panted breath. As the kisses deepened and their bodies moved closer to each other, Peter started to impatiently thumb at Tony’s buttons, his palms and fingers running over every inch of bare skin he revealed to the cold air. Tony followed suit; his movements much more impatient than Peter’s were. By the time they made it over to the bed, Tony was pulling down Peter’s pants and boxer briefs. He gladly joined Tony in nakedness before climbing onto the inviting mattress.

“Holy shit, this is comfortable,” Peter babbled absentmindedly, his limbs stretching as far as they could go.

“It’s the one thing I refuse to compromise on. I want to be comfortable when I partake in all the activities a bed is good for,” Tony replied as he climbed onto the bed and fit himself between Peter’s legs. “You’ll be even more impressed in the morning,”

For a while after that, there weren’t any words exchanged. Peter kept his mouth busy by pressing kisses into Tony’s neck and upper chest – Tony’s cologne was prominent, pulling Peter in the more he breathed the delicious smell in. Tony let Peter riddle his skin with marks and spit while he ran his hands all over Peter’s skin. Their hips were lined up and with every thrust Peter made up, Tony rolled his hips down until their cocks brushed delightfully. They were both so caught up in each other that nothing but touching and experiencing actually mattered.

It’d been so long for Peter that he found himself coming to a breathless crescendo fast. After a few minutes of passively letting Peter kiss him, Tony took control of things – his hips set the tempo and his hands and lips laid down the distraction. So overwhelmed from it all, Peter wasn’t aware of how close he was until his orgasm slammed into him out of nowhere. “Oh fuck, Tony! I’m – I’m going to come,” Peter panted out, his body thrumming with life and want and a desire he couldn’t hold back.

“Oh, Tony!” Peter practically screamed a moment later – Tony dirtily rolled his hips to toss him deliciously over the edge.

Panted breath filled the room as Peter rode the high of his orgasm. Tony placed tiny, teasing kisses against any part of Peter’s skin he could reach. Reaching down, Peter gripped the sides of Tony’s face until they were looking at each other – Tony met his eyes with a self-satisfied smirk. “How good is your turnaround time?”

Laughing, Peter leaned forward to give Tony a kiss. His cock was already starting to fill out again – having Tony so close set his body on fire. “Ten minutes at the max,” Peter mumbled after a moment of cataloging his heavy limbs and the desire that was rampaging through them.

“Good. Then you’ll have plenty of time to prep me before you fuck me.”

Lost in the words for a moment, Peter was immobile until Tony tapped his side with a cold lube bottle to get his attention. “You want me to fuck you?” Peter dumbly asked, his mind still trying to catch up.

“Yeah, Pete. I want to feel you inside of me. Your body is trim and fit – I can only imagine how good you’re going to fuck me,” Tony admitted without shame. He moved out of the splay of Peter’s thighs, climbing to his hands and knees, instead.

Not wanting to lose his chance, Peter launched himself into action. He ran his hands over the planes of Tony’s sides and back, tracing the small scars and tiny moles scattered across pale skin. His fingers were eager to categorize and map, but his impatience was too great. Tony pressed back into him, as if he too was starting to feel anxious for what was coming next.

Uncapping the lube, Peter drizzled a good amount onto two of his fingers, pausing just long enough to warm the slick to body temperature. When he felt ready, Peter pressed the tips of both his fingers to Tony’s eagerly waiting hole, tracing and circling the muscle to spread the lube and relax the man he was touching. Little by little, his first finger slipped in without much resistance. Tony bared down against him and let the digit slip all the way in until the webbing of Peter’s finger stopped him.

Now that the warm heat was wrapped around him, Peter wanted to take his time, letting Tony get used to the feeling while he explored and reached. Tony’s entire body jolted forward when Peter finally found that delicate nub.

“Shit – do that again!” Tony shouted; his voice laced with a breathy moan.

Unable to do anything but give into what they both wanted, Peter continued his ministrations, teasing Tony with one, two, and then three fingers. He scissored and pressed against the edge of Tony’s rim, loosening the muscle as he went. When he pressed inside, Peter caressed Tony’s insides, just barely pressing against his prostate until Tony was humping back with exaggerated impatience.

“I’m good, Pete. I’m good. Please, I want you,” Tony pleaded as he reached back and felt around for whatever lenght of Peter’s skin he could reach.

Completely hard once again, Peter was more than ready to feel Tony wrapped around him – after an easy orgasm already, Peter knew he’d be able to make their coupling worth it. Opening the tube of lube again, Peter drizzled more of it directly onto the length of his cock, and then a bit more around Tony’s rim. He stroked himself a couple of times, then shifted until the head of his cock could drag through the lube coating Tony’s skin.

He teased them both for a moment, tracing Tony’s rim with the wet head of his cock to ramp up that initial moment of anticipation. Peter kept up his antics until his own body couldn’t take it any longer – every part of him craved the warm embrace of Tony’s hole. With that thought in mind, Peter used one of his hands to grip Tony’s hip, using his hold to pull the other man back against him as he thrust forward. Breaching the muscle felt like coming home – he threw his head back with a rough groan; maybe he wouldn’t last as long as he initially thought.

“Tony, Tony, Tony – you feel fucking amazing,” Peter panted through clenched teeth, his body fighting hard against the need to thrust forward and take, take, take.

Tony reached back to grab at Peter’s hand on his hip to tangle their fingers together, instead. They shared a few breaths while Tony got used to the stretch of Peter within him, the mere connection between them radiating a different sort of heat while they waited.

Finally, Peter felt Tony relax around him enough for his hips to draw back and press forward without much effort. He kept his thrusts slow to start; his cock was throbbing from the realization that it was Tony below him – picking up the pace was a sure-fire way to end things a lot quicker than either of them wanted. When Tony started to thrust back against him, however, Peter lost more and more of his control. His hips snapped forward, their skin slapping together to make a loud sound that echoed around the room. With every thrust in, Tony moved with him – the tip of Peter’s cock was poised to press perfectly against Tony’s prostate every time.

Between the sounds dripping from Tony’s mouth and the delightful squeeze around his length, Peter was a few thrusts away from slipping over the edge once more. He tried to shift so he could wrap his fingers around Tony’s cock to get him there too, but he was met with a long stare over Tony’s shoulder – dark hazel eyes were on fire, pushing him to thrust harder and forget everything else. Tony’s body was taut, obviously strung out and seconds away from breaking apart. Finally understanding, Peter straightened out his chest, gripped Tony’s hips in both hands, and let himself go.

In the end, it was hard to decide who tumbled over the edge first. Tony shouted Peter’s name and tightened impossibly tight around him. The extra stimulus was the perfect thing to bring the heat in Peter’s belly to an overflowing boiling point. He tucked his head into the sweaty length of Tony’s neck and groaned, Tony’s name and fuck and unintelligible noises added to the symphony their joining created around the room.

Managing to just barely turn Tony as his body collapsed, Peter hit the mattress hard – his cock slipped out of the blissful heat, dragging a long groan from the depth of Peter’s chest. Being inside of Tony already felt like home; both his body and his heart were convinced. Wrapping his arm around Tony’s hip to compensate, Peter snuggled into the man’s sweaty back, keeping their bodies close.

“I – Tony. That was…” Peter started to mutter, his brain still not back online like the rest of him. Tony looked over his shoulder, affection and appreciation alive in the hazel of his eyes. They shared a heated stare as Tony pulled Peter’s hand more firmly across his chest – they didn’t need words in that moment, merely touching and existing in the same orbit was more than enough.

----

After that first passionate night, Peter spent almost all of his free time with Tony. With the shop being so close to campus, it was easy to lean on Tony’s close proximity and the joyful happiness Peter felt whenever they were together. The natural way their lives just sort of combined with each other proved how right they were for each other. Where others were wrapped up in the time Peter spent away from them, Tony enjoyed the fact that they led separate lives. Peter got to keep cheerleading and Tony at the same time without the two battling against each other. He didn’t know it before Tony came into his life, but that level of acceptance was everything Peter needed from another person to both excel and feel happiness.

Before Peter knew it, four months were behind them – though it hadn’t been that long, most of Peter’s things took up space in Tony’s apartment and every thought Peter had revolved around the life he was trying to create with the older man. He even took the time to learn more about Tony’s body of work – they spent many of their afternoons together in the backyard with Tony working the greenhouse while Peter practiced tumbling or simply watched his boyfriend in his element. Peter couldn’t recall another person making him feel so dumbfounded playing in the dirt the way Tony did – it wouldn’t matter what the man did, either; Peter would find something to be amazed about.

It was Tony that drew him in; his personality, thoughts, and the eager way he gave back to Peter spoke to a part of himself that he never knew existed.

Which was how he found himself nervously awaiting Tony’s arrival at the Purdue football stadium – aside from MJ and Darcy, Tony’s appearance at the football game would be the first time any of his friends met the older man. The fall, much like Peter, was a busy time of the year for Tony. Between weddings, showers, and parties, Tony’s weekends were filled to the brim. The homecoming game was the first game that the home schedule actually lined up with Tony’s off day. He couldn’t wait for Tony to watch him do the thing he loved in the uniform he felt proud to wear. Selfishly, he wanted to see that same sort of pride radiating from the person he’d fallen in love with.

The forty minutes they were trapped in the locker room before the game started felt like torture – his phone vibrated against his thigh a couple of minutes after they headed in from warm-ups. Tony was navigating the stadium’s security to get to the sideline spot Peter secured for him. When they walked back onto the field, Tony would be there eagerly waiting for him.

Finally, the performance lights flickered, and they were ushered to their usual entrance. The large black and gold flag he carried in his hands was lighter than usual – his excitement pumped through him, the dopamine of happiness causing a rush of energy. As the announcer pumped up the crowd, Peter caught the eyes of his teammates around him, sharing the hype he felt.

Running across the thick white lines never felt better – by the time he crossed center field, Peter caught sight of Tony in the corner. His boyfriend was clapping loudly, the honey-hazel of his eyes glued to Peter’s every move. The familiar feeling that Tony’s love created in him spread through Peter’s chest, showing itself off as a giant, beaming smile.

They didn’t get much of a chance to talk throughout the first half of the game – Peter’s stunt group was responsible for the spirit stuff for the first and second quarter. Instead, Peter sent Tony messages with his eyes, showing off his skills and tumbling talents whenever he could. It was almost better that way – Tony got to experience Peter in his element without any pressure to respond. The crowd going wild around them only added to the experience. For once, Peter got to put on the show.

When Peter got to wander off after the half-time performance, he was wrapped up in a bear-hug the second Tony could get his arms around him. Peter was covered in sweat and glitter and the annoying little turf beads that always stuck to his skin, but Tony didn’t seem to care. The older man picked him up, spinning him around excitedly. “Pete, you’re so talented. I about shit my pants when you back flipped for so long down the field, but damn – the skill you possess,” Tony gushed, tucking his face into Peter’s neck to calm himself down.

Not wanting to lose the upbeat energy, Peter cupped Tony’s cheeks in both of his hands. Tony leaned into the touch, tilting his head back to look at him. “I’m so happy you’re here,” Peter started, leaning forward to steal a quick kiss. “I’ve been on point all day because of you. I can feel you watching me – I want to be good for you.” The last words were whispered in his ear, the impact of them hitting Peter hard across his lower back as Tony wrapped him up and pulled him close.

“You’re the only thing I see,” Tony mumbled back, his tone all the sudden low and gravelly.

After leaning in to give Tony a heated kiss, Peter forced himself to pull back – he stepped out of Tony’s embrace completely. If he stayed there any longer, he wouldn’t make it back to the locker room at all. Smirking in Tony’s direction, Peter thrust his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ve got to go, or I’ll never leave. See you after?”

“I’ll meet you out front,” Tony said with a nod, his anxious hands reaching out to squeeze Peter’s hand once more. “Keep kicking ass, Pete.”

His role during the third and fourth quarter was a lot more passive than the first half of the game. Since the Boilers were up more than two touchdowns, a lot of the crowd left after the first few minutes of the third quarter – that meant the younger stunters and less experienced tumblers got to have some time on the field. To stop himself from straying over towards Tony, Peter put all of his effort into helping his littles. It didn’t work nearly as well as he figured it might, but he got through the rest of the game with minimal distraction.

Hayley’s speech was inspirational and moving like usual – they were done with football home games for the season and their success was obvious and highlighted in her moving words. The next couple of months of the season were the calm before the storm and they were all looking forward to the small break basketball games posed for them. Competition season started after the holidays and no rest would be spared. Though he always appreciated her words, Peter wished for them to quickly come to an end.

Before he even finished the thought, Hayley was circling them up, calling out the cheer that they all echoed back. As he shifted to move out of the circle, a firm grip stopped him. “I believe this is for you,” Hayley said, handing over a classic red rose.

“Hayley, who’s this from?” Peter asked, trying his best to tamper down the hope that maybe Tony was the stupidly romantic culprit.

With a knowing smile, Hayley shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, “He said you’d know.”

Pulling the rose to his chest, Peter ducked his nose to sniff at the crisp petals. It was de-thorned and freshly cut – Tony’s markers were all over the beautiful gesture. His cheeks were already sore from all the beaming he’d been doing all night, the face splitting smile only made it worse. Despite that, Peter wore it throughout his post-game routine and out the door where he ran directly into MJ.

“MJ! What are you doing here?” Peter threw his arms around her then, careful not to crush the flower still in his hand.

Thin arms returned the hug – MJ brought him tightly to her chest with a hard squeeze. It’d been a few weeks since they’d seen each other. Seeing her standing there, Peter realized it’d been too long.

“I couldn’t miss homecoming. I am an alumna after all,” MJ replied, her wide eyes never leaving him. Watching her closely, Peter felt a gasp leave his lips when she brought another classic red rose up, running the flower under her nose. “This needed delivering, too.”

Peter gripped the rose lightly, tucking it against the other one in his hand. Each of the petals were perfect and from the small lessons he got from Tony whenever they handled the clipped flowers, Peter knew what the giving of classic red roses meant. It only seemed right that Tony clued him in that way.

“Don’t fuck this up, Peter. I really like him, too,” MJ remarked as she moved in to press a soft kiss on his cheek. He kept her close for a moment, simply soaking in her presence. “He’s waiting for you out front. Go get your man, Pete.”

A soft laugh left his lips, MJ said that to him when she first learned about his date with Tony. It wasn’t lost on him how full circle everything felt. The rightness of being with Tony existed in every aspect of his life – each little sign made the delirious heat in his chest burn that much brighter.

Giving MJ one more squeeze, Peter broke away to quickly make his way towards the front of the stadium where Tony was waiting for him. He wasn’t sure what he did to deserve such a sweet display of affection – Tony knew Peter appreciated the simple day to day life they were slowly creating with each other. At the same time, Peter’s heart was hammering in his chest at the thought that Tony deemed him worthy of such a gesture.

Peter found Tony leaning up against one of the large pillars just outside the exit doors. In the darkness, the honey color of his eye shone like melted pools of gold. Narrowing the distance between them became the only thing on Peter’s mind, he picked up his pace and practically threw himself in Tony’s arms.

The sigh along the length his neck made Peter tuck in a little tighter against Tony, his heart pounding with affection. He pulled back before the roses in his hand could get squished in the intensity of their embrace. Peter brought the flowers to his nose, keeping Tony’s eye as he did. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Peter sing-songed, grinning at the flush that spread over Tony’s cheeks with every word.

Tony nodded at him, tilting his head with a mischievous look of his own. “It looks like you’re missing one, though,” Tony remarked. The long stem in his hand was darker than the others, symbolizing love yet to be realized. Their fingers brushed as Peter took it, his brow quirked in intrigue.

“I love you, Pete. I’ve known since you walked through the door of my shop that you were special. Every second with you has made my life just a little bit better. I know it hasn’t been that long, but I’m mad about you. Over the fucking moon.” Tony walked into his space then, his hands cupping Peter’s cheeks.

Surging forward, Peter caught Tony’s lips in a passionate kiss, their noses bumping in the process. They sipped from each other’s mouths until the need to breath became pressing. Instead of pulling away, Peter leaned his forehead against Tony’s, closing his eyes to revel in the contentment that wrapped around them both. After a couple of shared breaths, Peter blinked to catch Tony’s eye. “I love you too, Tony,” Peter whispered back.

With a wide grin, Tony leaned in again, mumbling “I know” against Peter’s lips.

#starker #Peter Parker/Tony Stark #sfsummerbingo21 #bobbie writes #it takes me all the way #starker fic

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philliamwrites · 3 years

Text

The Dawn Will Come [Chpt.4]

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Pairing: Dimitri x Reader, Claude x Reader, Edelgard x Reader, Yuri x Reader, Edelgard x Byleth, lots of minor pairings

Tags: #gn reader, # platonic love byleth & reader, #reader is a tactical unit, #angst, #slow burn, #subplots, #unreliable narrator, #pining, #remporary amnesia, #reluctant herp, #canon divergence, #lost twin au, #many chapters, #original content

Words: 7.7k

Summary: Waking up in a forest without any knowledge of your past and who you are, you join the house leaders of the Officers Academy to search for a way to return your memories. Unfortunately, the church has different plans for you, and Fate places you in the centre of a cruel game with deadly stakes. It certainly doesn’t help to fall in love with a house leader who is doomed to be your demise.

Notes: Chapter 3 | Chapter 5

Chapter 04: Demands of the Faithful

I stretch lame hands of faith, and grope, And gather dust and chaff, and call To what I feel is Lord of all, And faintly trust the larger hope.

[Alfred, Lord Tennyson, In Memoriam A.H.H.]

“I’m glad you could make time,” Byleth says, carefully placing her fine cup on the small bottom plate. If she notices how uncomfortable you feel, sitting in the centre of the yard, drinking tea, she ignores it. “Let’s think together about what we want to teach during the mock battle.”

“This is a bad idea,” you say, nibbling on your cup. “A very bad idea.”

The late afternoon hours are quiet, but it certainly helps that the tea arrangement is tugged away in a far off corner in the courtyard, hidden behind tall hedges that allow privacy. The sweet smell of chamomile tea and strawberry pastry is a nice exchange from the usual savoury smells you’re used to in the cafeteria. All around you, the high, spiky roofs of the monastery’s towers stand out against the fiery, orange sky, throwing longer and longer shadows as the sun sets behind the mountains. The clouds are soft, pink cotton-candy, blushing at the warm touch of the sun.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Byleth continues, cutting through a piece of cake with her fork. “We’ve seen what the house leaders are capable of. It’s time to see what the rest of the students can do.”

“Don’t take me wrong. I think a mock battle will help them grow,” you agree. “I just don’t really understand why it’s me who has to lead the Blue Lions.”

“I think Professor Hanneman is not present at the day of the mission,” Byleth explains. “It seems on the last day of Lone Moon he always leaves the monastery for a private reason. And I assume Lady Rhea means to see the extent of your power.”

That’s what you expected as well. In the last couple of days you realised your power is a muscle, to be exercised daily, never to be pushed to the extreme. It was a strenuous task to try out how much is too much; where there’s still room. Under the keen eyes of Hanneman, you two practised day after day, trying to figure out how much your body can take before exhaustion sweeps over you and renders you immobile. Crests usually don’t have a limit; depending on their nature they grant a permament boost to the bearer’s abilities. Muttering under his breath, Hanneman had made quite a show to remind you what a curiosity the Crest of the Herald is. Like you wouldn’t know.

“Since we’re going to be on the field as well, you might want to get more practice with the sword,” Byleth proposes, and you groan. She has a way of being brutally honest, and so far no one’s been spared to get the brunt of it. “I’m not letting my students hold back. Not even against you.”

“You really are a voice of confidence, you know.” Shoulders drooping like someone took the wind from your sails, you throw your head back and drink the rest of your tea. Byleth’s expression doesn’t change, and you wonder why you even try being funny around her.

After clearing the table, Byleth accompanies you to your next lesson hall. It’s nice in theory, but her vigorous way of trying to drill sword techniques into your head on the way doesn’t hide her true agenda. Only slowly, you begin to realise that is maybe her way of caring for someone. Brutish in appearance, but once you look past the first impression of indifference, Byleth’s silent demeanour speaks louder than words.

Students linger in small groups in front of the class rooms, their exhausted faces from a full day of lessons and hard training visible in the way they carry their bodies. If you had a say in it, you’d cancel the evening lessons and let them rest; a reoccurring debate inside the faculty that doesn’t go anywhere. Byleth stops in front of the class room, surveying the students with a cool gaze, when suddenly Claude and Hilda jog towards you, and by “jogging” they decided Hilda to be the only one running while carrying Claude bridal style like he weighs nothing. As they pass you, Claude tips an invisible hat in your direction, calling “Hey, teach,” and then immediately “Bye, teach!” as they cross the courtyard.

Your gaze follows them. “What just happened.”

Byleth doesn’t even bother to look. “Claude and Hilda happened.”

Heavens, you don’t know if you’re able to handle them later.

After exchanging goodbyes with Byleth, you tackle the next forty minutes with a belly full of sweets and a mind occupied with worrying about everything you might do wrong next week. Forming two groups, you hand out two different manoeuvres you dug out of books, and present the task, “Work out the pros and cons of each battle tactic, and present them to the class. Explain where you would have done things differently, and why.”

Sylvain raises his hand.

“Yes, you can leave to bathroom breaks without asking me,” you say.

Sylvain drops his hand. Then raises it again.

“No, you can’t bring animals you find on your way back to your seat,” you say.

He drops his hand. Beside him, Ingrid fails to stifle a groan.

Twenty minutes later, the first group stands in front of the class. Mercedes’s steady hand draws the perfect copy of the manoeuvre on the chalk board while Annette recites every step flawlessly. They’re a powerful combination, and that’s only half owed to their friendship. Mercedes is soft; she’s the silk hiding the dagger that Annette’s sharp mind is. There’s strength in kindness, and both have honed this ability to a razor-sharp weapon. There’s still a pouch of unfinished cookies Mercedes has baked for you left in your room, something to keep in mind for the next tea hour with Byleth. Felix and Dedue don’t add much, and you’re a little afraid to ask, seeing how Felix’s eyes burn holes in the back of Dedue’s head. There’s been rumours going on about a dispute, but no details, and you gladly leave that sort of teacher-student business to Hanneman.

The remaining students do their job almost just as good. But the thought of children being so confident in ways of war and killing leaves a painful twinge in your chest. You wonder what will become of them all in a few years, what battles they will win. What battles they will lose—this fear lingers at the edges of your consciousness like an ever-present shadow. To push it away, you try to refocus on the task at hand.

“Look at the battalions you have,” you advise, tapping a finger against the cool surface of the board. It comes away white with chalk, leaving a white smudge on your robe as you wipe it off. “Where are they placed?”

Ashe clears his throat. “Two Lance Soldiers, that’s Infantry. One Magic Squadron, also Infantry. The latter is stationed far northeast on that island. Two Pegasus Corpses, which are Flying Types. We put them behind the mountains to ambush the enemies on their way to one of our Infantries.”

“A good idea in theory,” you acknowledge, and don’t miss how Ashe exhales in relief. “And where are you enemies?”

“They’re facing our Infantry and the Squadron,” Dimitri steps in now. “The Flying Unit engage from the back. After their victory, Infantry and Flying close the last opposite unite off on the bridge, and join the Magic Squadron in fighting.”

“Okay, okay,” you nod. “And now look at the terrain of this last unit you want to take on from the front and back. The one on the bridge moving towards the Squadron.”

The room is quiet for a minute, and then a silent “Oh” from Ashe.

“Yes. Oh. The Magic Squadron moves slower through the woods. You’ll lose them. And one of the Lance units is probably the next to go.” You draw sharp lines across the board with red chalk, changing the battalion’s movements. One goes across the whole board, crossing out the word Sea. “Wouldn’t it be smarter to have your Pegasus Companies move this way across the water, join the Magic Squadron and then close in from the right to join the Infantries?”

“But Herald.” Ingrid raises her hand, but doesn’t wait for you to pick her. “If Infantry and Flying take out the first enemy, we’ll still win. The remaining unit will be trapped on the island without a possibility to retreat. Wouldn’t it be wiser to sacrifice the Magic Squadron just for that?”

“I agree with Ingrid,” says Sylvain. He’s sitting on a desk, and swings his legs back and forth. “With or without them, we won the battle, and that’s what matters.”

You turn back to scan the manoeuvre one more time. They’re right—blocking the enemy’s escape routes off proves a solid guarantee to win, and yet you’ve somewhat hoped they wouldn’t settle on this option. There’s a bitter taste in your mouth, turning your lips upside down as if you’ve bitten into a lemon.

“Sometimes, you don’t want to win the battle,” you start slowly, the thought blossoming from a dark place deep inside you. “Sometimes you want as many as possible to live.” Which is easier said than done, and no one in the room agrees on your statement because they know just as much that such a choice isn’t always granted. Before the silence stretches on too long, you quickly add, “I guess it is more important to know there is no right or wrong answer. You make decisions later on that will either grant you victory or death, and you will have to live with those decisions.”

Unanimous murmur sounds from the students, a topic nobody wants to dwell on too long, and you grant them that wish; this precious little time they’re still allowed to be children and make mistakes before responsibilities catch up to them. The rest of the lesson flies past without disturbances, and when the bells announce the break, they jump from their seats and scurry outside.

“Don’t forget there’s going to be a test after the mock battle,” you call after them, knowing they’ll forget anyway and then boycott. The Lions are finally done with lessons, but there is the Deer House who have the misfortune to attend the last period of the day. As you prepare their unit of instruction on different terrains, Dimitri approaches you, his expression a mixture between confidence and tension.

“Herald.” He stops in front of your desk, shoulders squared into a declaration of deference. “I have prepared instructions on everyone’s weaknesses and strengths. Please, do consider to take a look. Since one of the rules is that only six units will be stationed on the field, I hope this will make your decision easier who to choose.” Placing the papers with outmost care on your table, Dimitri hesitates a moment before continuing, “What you said earlier … truth be told, I think the same. To limit the loss of lives as much as possible should be a priority to a leader as well. To hear that from someone like you … I was quite glad.”

“Someone like me,” you repeat, but you’re more surprised to feel your fingers itch to take the papers and get a first read on everyone. After going through similar notes from Linhardt, you’re now excited to learn more about your proteges, and with luck someone from the Golden Deer students might provide you with a first survey as well.

“Someone responsible for tactics and strategy,” Dimitri quickly clarifies. “Someone tasked with bringing absolute victory.” He gives you a look that is somehow both caressing and calculating at the same time. “I understand that those sometimes compete with one’s own beliefs regarding the value of life. One’s conscience is as much of a weapon as a sharpened blade. If it breaks, what use is there to a person.”

“Those are … some mature thoughts.” You don’t know where this observation goes. Of course he is mature, he has to be as the successor of a noble lineage. “For someone your age.” You press your mouth into a thin line, cursing your inability to think of a better response. But Dimitri simply smiles—a smile that is like a light suddenly being turned on in every room of a dark house.

“Oh, but I do not want to bore you with such matters. I just wanted to add, I really do look forward to have you on our side during the mock battle.” He gives a little courtesy bow. “Let us discuss the details on the day before the mission. A good evening to you, Herald.”

Dimitri leaves with a little bounce to his step. It’s probably better he’s in high spirits, even though you aren’t sure what exactly made him happy. It would be a real shame to extinguish his excitement by being an utter failure during the battle, so you make sure to read whatever he managed to put together about his classmates as soon as possible. There’s still some minutes left before the first Deer students will enter. Exhaustion lulls you into resting your eyes, and the moment your head is cradled in your arms, you doze off.

It’s the third time you have this dream after joining the Officer’s Academy, though calling it a ‘dream’ is a stretch—there is nothing happening, nothing to see. Only white, as pure and unblemished as a young lily blossom in early spring. Only this time this picture—maybe a memory, but of what or where you can’t say—is different.

Wake up, a voice whispers, barely recognisable and dull, spoken behind a wall of water. Wake up.

Your hands weigh a ton. Unable to reach out and grasp it, the dream blurs, slipping through your fingers like sand.

Wake up.

“Herald, wake up,” Claude persists. “You’re drooling on my test papers.”

His hand brushes your shoulder and you jump, all focus on the dream dispersing. Multiple voices fill the room in a shower of sounds, not helping to regain your senses of where you are. It doesn’t help that your right eye throbs dully, and as you rub it to somehow reduce the sensation, white spots dance across your vision.

“So sorry, Herald,” Claude smirks with his hand still hovering over your shoulder. “Didn’t mean to wake you from your beauty rest, but Hilda planned to draw obscene things on your face, and we can’t have that now, can we.”

“Liars never prosper, Claude!” comes Hilda’s response from somewhere in the back of the room. You groan, narrowing your eyes at him. Going back to sleep and stumbling about to try and figure out what’s going on sounds more pleasing than dealing with Claude’s shenanigans.

“Man, what a bummer you won’t join our House during the mock battle,” he continues as if Hilda hasn’t said anything. “If someone asked me, I think to have you fight for the Blue Lions is cheating.”

“But no one asked you?” you offer, indulging him with a weak smile.

“The audacity, right?” Claude rolls his eyes towards the ceiling, leaning against the teacher’s desk. “Just imagine the brilliant schemes we two could work out. Oh, I have an amazing idea. How about you ask Lady Rhea—”

“I’m not asking to be by your side during the battle.”

“Ouch.” Claude places a hand over his chest, right above his heart. “Immediately shut down. Who knew our dearest Herald would be such a heart breaker.”

You shoo him away, not only because he’s getting on your nerves, but there’s also Ignatz and Raphael standing in line, waiting for your attention.

“We’ve heard the students from the other Houses gave you some insight in their abilities,” Ignatz says, tugging a stack of papers to his chest. “We decided to give you one as well.”

“I’m sure you’ll like them,” Raphael chimes in, looking more excited than usual. “I gave Ignatz instructions on how to make our report the best. Forget boring words, Herald, we’ve prepared the real deal!” He rips the papers from Ignatz’s hands and slams them on your table. A crack sounds on the underside, and Raphael leans his whole weight upon the surface, completely oblivious to the protesting creak of the wood.

“Here, we started with Claude, since he’s the big shot and all that,” he explains, opening the first page. It shows Claude, a surprisingly accurate portrait of him, if not a little bit scrawny. He’s wielding a bow, nocking multiple arrows. Seems like Raphael wasn’t the only one giving instructions.

“And here is Leonie, and there’s Lorenz, and oh! That’s us working together as a team!” Raphael beams as he turns the page. In this picture, everyone is assembled, fighting against angry looking soldiers and horned monsters. There’s Lysithea and Marianne shooting lightning bolts from their hands, zapping their opponents. Raphael is carrying a huge stone, on top of it stands Hilda, wielding a mighty axe.

“These are the most accurate file reports I’ve seen,” you say for lack of better words. “It really is a shame I can’t join you for the mock battle.”

“There’s gonna be a next time, no worries!” Raphael gives you a thumbs up, then retreats to his seat, Ignatz by his side. They’re a funny duo, not just because of their different build. Their personalities seem the complete opposite, and yet strangely fit like a child’s box to sort blocks into the right shapes.

The difference between the Golden Deers and Blue Lions, for one, is the noise level. Instead of waiting for you to call them up one by one, they love to shout answers whenever they see fit. Judging who was the first isn’t really easy when four people scream at the same time, so you’ve given up on that—Claude’s policy whoever screams loudest didn’t help all too much as well. Maybe it’s time to ask Byleth about some tips how to handle them. When the bell tolls for the last time for this day, announcing everyone to be relieved of their work, the student clear out faster than during fire drills, leaving you with a turmoil of thoughts and worries and two little voices bickering about how much of a disaster next week is going to be.

After seven days and nights of restless sleep and vigorous training under the vicious supervision of Byleth, the green fields stretching before you end boarding on lush woods, its treetops protruding into the sky. It’s a wonderful day you would enjoy much more without knowing this is a battle field, and the people behind you wait for your command.

“Black Eagle and Golden Deer are in position. Captain Jeralt said the mock battle begins in roughly ten minutes.” Dedue gives you an expectant look, and you give him a curt nod, your mouth dry.

“Thanks. We’ll have a last briefing. After that, we’ll deploy our units.”

Dedue joins his classmates, leaving you to your troubled thoughts. With luck, none of your opponents will reach you, and you won’t have to fight. It’s as if you can feel Byleth’s taste for your blood all across the field, even though right now she’s just a blurry, dark blob in the distance, surrounded by her students.

“Do not worry, Herald.” The hard metal of a gauntlet on your shoulder makes you flinch, backing away from Dimitri. The worry on his face is a mirror of your own, albeit for different reasons. “Everyone will do their best to follow your orders, and fight with everything they've got. Your leadership will lead us to victory.”

“Oh, yeah!” You don’t meet his eyes. “For sure.” Zero pressure and all that. You don’t say that, seeing that most of the students don’t appear to be as nervous as you. Confidence is key, and even though you see none of it in tangible proximity, you can at least fake it until you make it.

Six minutes left. With a deep breath, you try to get hold of yourself, and face the Lions.

“Since we don’t know who will be deployed by Manuela and Byleth, prepare for everything. I want to split the group. Dimitri, Dedue and Mercedes move to the northern forest. Felix, Sylvain, you’re moving west with me.”

Felix pulls a grimace, but before he can say anything, Sylvain throws an arm around his shoulders and leans on him, gracing you with a full grin. “We got your back, Herald.” He earns a whack on his back from his friend.

“Why are we splitting up if our plan is to take out each group separately?” Dedue inquirers. “Isn’t that what we agreed on before?”

“I think the Herald plans to let our opponents think we plan on taking them both on at the same time.” Dimitri throws a quick glance at you. “We’ll draw them in our direction, and once they are near, we close in from both sides.”

You nod. “Precisely. We know the Black Eagles will start far north from us. The Golden Deers are northwest. As soon as one of them moves towards us, we’ll have to defeat them immediately. It will be easier fighting one House, not both at the same time.”

“Look at you, Your Highness.” Sylvain pats him on the shoulder, looking proud. “Someone’s been paying attention in class!”

“Sylvain—” Dimitri’s chiding meets deaf ears as Sylvain already turns away, checking his lance for a last time. But he does beam a little, you think. Or maybe it’s just the sun making everything look much brighter. It’ll go into your report nonetheless. Chances of a victory look good—even if you have to retreat, the Blue Lions might make it on their own.

The bressy sound of a horn echoes across the valley, reverberating in your bones. The mock battle begins.

The weight of the wooden training sword hanging from your hip is foreign; it’s as though you only expect to trip over it. Determined to keep it in its holster, you approach the grove, flanked by Sylvain and Felix—and not a minute too soon. Moving towards you is the first line of enemies, Ignatz, Lorenz and Marianne.

“I think they didn’t see us—” Sylvain starts just as the first arrow flies past his head and hits the trunk beside him with a thunk. For safety purposes, all arrow’s tips are wrapped up in stiff cloth, not intended to leave permanent wounds but surely still capable to deliver nasty bruises like the training swords and lances.

“I think they saw us—” Sylvain’s brilliant new observation ends in a yelp as Felix shoves him out of the line of fire.

“Get down, dumbass!”

You three duck behind bushes and trees, cautiously observing how the others advance, their weapons drawn.

“I’ll go for Ignatz,” you say. “Felix, you’re fast enough to reach Marianne and take her down before she starts healing everyone.”

“Fine, we’ll try your plan.” Felix has his sword drawn already, gripping it tight enough his knuckles turn white. “Try not to get kicked out too soon, will you.”

You blow a strand of hair from out of your eyes, squinting at his back as he jumps out of cover. The last couple of weeks you’ve put in some extra hours of sword practice with Felix. As an exceptional swordsman, noble and diligent in his training unlike anyone else—safe maybe for Dimitri—you imagined no one could teach you as much as possible in the short amount of time until the mission. It took some convincing, but the decisive argument that sold him was your desire to become better to finally have at least a chance against Byleth. If she is stern during practice, Felix is vicious, exploiting the tiniest opening you give in order to make you learn from your mistakes. Your body was a medley of pain and aches after every evening, but now the memory of that very same melody is your marching song towards battle. Then there’s always the knowledge that if you three can distract them long enough before the rest of the Golden Deer students arrive, Dimitri and the rest will close in on your position, and taking down your opponents won’t be difficult.

“Sylvain, Lorenz is yours.”

He answers with a simple salute, grip tight around his training lance, and as you both follow Felix out in the open, an image flickers before you, there and gone like a flame going out with a last glint. An arrow, headed straight at you. Your body moves in instinct, dodging the projectile not a second too late. Judging from the direction of its origin, Ignatz must be just beyond the rocks only a few hundred yards away. You throw a MiasmaΔ in his direction, the black ball carving its path across the grasslands. It hits the stone, chipping parts away and revealing Ignatz, crouching behind it. He looks up, dirt on his cheeks, and adjusts his glasses before ducking out of his cover, another arrow already ready on his bow.

Another arrow hits him on his back, hard enough to get him down on his knees. Mercedes’ accuracy isn’t as good as Ashe’s, but the determination carved into her face makes up for lack of skill. Dimitri and Dedue are right on her heels, but a single look thrown over your shoulder shows that Felix and Sylvain have everything under control. Coming out victorious as well, save for Sylvain pressing a hand against his ribs, they were still complete. The knowledge of that makes you sigh in relief, a new surge of hope soaring inside you.

“I knew we shouldn’t have listened to Claude’s dubious plan.” Lorenz’s bickering is still audible, even as the three proceed to leave the battle grounds to meet up with Jeralt. You’re really curious to see what exactly Claude had in mind, but diverting your focus for just a second could become dangerous. Instead, you turn towards the students.

“Stay close,” you order, waiting until Mercedes is finished checking Sylvain's injuries. “We’re going to move further towards the Golden Deers and eliminate them first.” Flexing your fingers against the slow growth of getting used casting spells, your group begins to move further north.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice Dimitri buckling and unbuckling his spear from his back. Out of lack for the right words, and because the first rush of adrenaline still courses through your body, you jostle against him, wearing a grin on your face.

“Look lively, Your Highness,” you advise. “All that nervous fumbling isn’t what a leader is supposed to do.”

A tiny gasps leaves him, more an exhale than anything else, but he turns towards you, slightly flushed. Bringing his hands to his sides, it’s too obvious he’s tensing his body so they don’t stray again—like a statue that’s on the edge of shattering at the tiniest movement.

“You’re right, of course.” He lowers his head a little. “I just keep thinking that the Black Eagle students wait for us in that direction as well. Some are surely moving towards us as we speak.”

“Are you worried about Byleth?” you wonder, and more as an afterthought add, “Or Edelgard?”

“Anyone who is not worried about Byleth is a fool, if you ask me,” he replies with a crease between his pale eyebrows. “And well, this is our first chance to prove ourselves, being the heirs to the ruling factions. I know Edelgard is exceptionally strong. And Claude surely has an ace up his sleeve. You are right, Herald. Nervousness is a sign of hesitation, of weakness. I will be better than that.” A new fire comes alive in his eyes as he strides onward, catching up to Mercedes and Sylvain to compliment her on the excellent shot from before.

The epiphany really comes only now, fast and hard like a lightning bolt, that these children will drink in everything you have to offer—advices, orders, simple words of encouragement—simply for the title that is strapped around your neck. The weight of that responsibility slows your steps, which allows for another worry to quickly catch up: has everything you have taught them so far been right? Do they really know how to exploit the advantages certain classes have over others; will a strategic retreat even occur to them in the right time before it’s too late.

Doubt is like poison, slowly eating you from the inside. This mock battle won’t just be a lesson for the students. It will also test if you have put them on the right path, and the realisation unfolds a new conviction inside you, breathing new wind into your sails.

You quickly catch up to them, another rush of encouraging words on your lips when another image flickers on and off, painting your sight red. You freeze, raising an arm, hand formed into a fist.

“Halt!” you shout, processing what you just saw. The students pause, forming a loose circle around you. The throbbing from before settles back in, more persistent now like someone’s knocking against the back of your skull to get your attention. You try to ignore that and focus on categorising every student’s ability in alphabetical order.

“Linhardt,” you gasp, eyes wide open and glued on Dedue.

The students exchange worried glances. Sylvain is the first to speak. “No, Herald,” he says. “Linhardt’s the pretty boy with all the books, you know. Who sleeps just about anywhere, like a cat. That’s our Dedue here.”

“No, I mean Linhardt has Nosferatu,” you quickly explain, flailing your hands in hope to express yourself better. It doesn’t look like it helps. “Linhardt is the only one left who can use Nosferatu, and he’s going to land a good hit on Dedue. And with good, I mean bad. If he hits you, you’re down, Dedue.” Because only that makes sense, as Marianne is already standing on the sidelines and you haven’t heard about anyone else learning the skill. Undoubtedly a Nosferatu will hit Dedue if you don’t change course or take the spell caster out first.

Dedue steps forward. “Should it give us an advantage against our enemy, I will gladly face the opponent and go down if it means it won’t interfere with our progress towards the Golden Deer students.”

“Sacrificing yourself for a mere praise from the boar, is that what you hope for?” Felix demands, or more like snarls, his handsome face crumpling into an ugly look of contempt. “Pathetic.”

“Sacrifice is a big word to throw around during a mock battle, don’t you think,” Sylvain unhelpfully throws in, his posture a little too relaxed in the light of the conflict that’s about to break out.

Dedue shakes his head. “I am simply fulfilling my duty,” he states. “Anything that will bring His Highness victory.”

“You would also run head first into an ambush and get yourself killed, is that it?” Felix grimaces. “Blindly following orders—”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough!” Your raised voice makes them pause, and you use that second to grab lead of the conversation. “We don’t even know if Linhardt is going to be alone or joined by other Eagle students. What do you think will your little act accomplish, Dedue?”

He sets his mouth into a grim, hard line, unable to come up with a satisfying answer that isn’t a repeat of what he just said.

“You’ll have a tough time going against Black Eagles with all their magic users, so stay with Dimitri. Go and deal with the rest of the Golden Deer students. And you—” You meet Felix’s glare with narrowed eyes. “A battlefield isn’t the place to throw around petty disagreements. You would do well to remember that.”

“Understood.” He rips the training sword from its holster. “But let me go take down that mage. I’ll cut him down swiftly.”

“We’ll go together. I’m not leaving any of you on your own. Take care of Claude,” you tell Dimitri, showing with a nod that you fully trust in his leading ability. “We’ll meet east from the barricades in exactly one hour.”

He doesn’t shy away from you glare. “Understood. Take care you two.”

Felix takes the lead with long, eager strides. As you follow him, you rub your eye, wincing at the pinprick-like pain. The dull throb doesn’t cease this time, and if you had to take a guess, there’s only once left for the Crest to activate before you reach your limit. So far, nothing has helped you to ascertain when exactly a foresight occurs, and leaving it to pure chance is like grasping a loose rope in hopes that it is tied to something somewhere as you take the leap. Maybe Hanneman will make more sense of it laters.

“You should have stayed with the others,” Felix says after a moment, scanning your surroundings for any sign of the enemy. It sounds more like a simple statement than an accusation. “I can handle someone like Linhardt on my own.”

“I said before, we don’t know if he’s alone. I highly doubt it.” It’s like Dimitri said before: Underestimating Byleth will surely end in casualties and defeat. You don’t consider it far-fetched that she has sent a non-magic class with Linhardt, but who that will be is left to be determined.

“No matter how many accompany him. Be it two or three or all of them, I will take them down.”

“It takes more than one person to win a war.” Though you don’t doubt Felix might try it by himself anyway. “You’ll notice soon enough that you will rely on your comrades.”

“I will rely on them as long as they don’t get in my way.”

“So charming,” you mumble to yourself as you two round a mound. It really is none of your business, but you're actually curious about what is going on between him and Dedue. The moment you finish outweighing the pros and cons of trying to go down that rabbit hole, the air around you changes, barely noticeable save for a change of wind—it completely stills for a second, but that is enough to realise what’s happening.

“Felix—” you manage before the Nosferatu explodes in front of you, knocking you to the ground. Before the mock battle, all magicians were instructed to weaken their spells; no lasting damage should befall any of the participants. Only because of that you manage to climb back on your feet, only left with dizziness that makes the world spin. The jarring sound of metal clashing against metal clears your mind a little, and when you turn around, Felix and Ferdinand are clashing blades.

You turn further, and there he is, a hand raised in your direction. “Sorry, Herald,” Linhardt says. He doesn’t sound sorry at all. “The professor threatened with extra homework if we would hold back against you.”

“Of course she did,” you mumble, grabbing your sword with sweaty hands. Two against two is fair, and you have no doubt that Felix will hold his ground against Ferdinand. The only solution to your little problem named Linhardt is to get as close as possible, and make use of your advantage in meagre sword skills.

Another Nosferatu is sent your way, but this time you dodge, the hair on your neck standing on end. Somehow your body automatically shies away from Faith magic like a cat fleeing from water. Just one more hit will surely be enough to throw you out of the mock battle, and you can’t have that, not when the picture of Dimitri’s resolute expression is carved into your mind.

You close the distance, all nerves tensed in anticipation, completely focused on trying to feel where the next spell is going to land. As Linhardt retreats into the woods, his sight obscured by trees, you dive after him, shoving twigs out of your way. A shadow moves through the undergrowth; every muscle in your body locks up, but you plunge forward, sword raised—

Linhardt gasps when he finds himself pressed against a tree, your sword at his throat. With both hands up, he doesn’t move an inch, simply blinking at you. Somewhere above you, a bird cries out; a branch breaks. Linhardt makes a face like he jammed his foot in a door he slammed shut himself.

“I surrender,” he says. “Getting beat up and spending time in the infirmary doesn’t sound as good as reading tomes in the library.”

“You sure?” Your heart beats so loud in your chest, it’s a miracle it doesn’t break through your ribcage and fly off. “Byleth might drown you in homework for that.”

He shrugs. “I call it a strategic retreat. I’ll just have to—” A yawn. “—convince the professor.” Another yawn. You begin to see the ulterior motive behind his surrender. Squinting at him, you proceed to bind his hands with a dark spell. Black shackles appear around his wrists, locking them tight together. As you make your way out of the grove, you hope Felix had the same success.

That thought immediately dies when you return to the plain and see Jeralt heaving an unconscious Felix on the back of his horse, a battered Ferdinand by his side.

“Ah, Herald.” Even though beaten up black and blue, Ferdinand still manages a smile. It looks a little lopsided with his swollen cheek and the dried blood on his upper lip. “I don’t mean to offend, but I hope you return because Linhardt defeated you in mighty combat?” A second too late he sees the magic binds around Linhardt’s wrists. His face falls. “My, Linhardt.”

“You don’t quite look so good yourself,” Linhardt throws back without any heat in his voice. He sounds rather bored. Tired.

“Excuse me, but what happened. What’s wrong with Felix?” you ask, turning to Jeralt. Before he can answer, Ferdinand chimes in, “He fought splendidly! Though I had no doubt in that, he is a noble after all. Yet, after ringing me to the ground, he lost consciousness. By my honour as the heir of House Aegir, I cannot take advantage of that. We both shall step out of battle.”

“He passed out?” Now that you take a good look at him, he’s still pale, unhealthily so. Slick sweat glues his dark hair to his forehead, and the skin beneath his eyes shimmers slightly blue—lack of sleep.

“Overexertion, I guess,” Jeralt says now. He pulls Linhardt to his side, and gives his shackles a thoughtful look. “I’ll take these three with me. You go and continue the mock battle, Herald.”

“But…” It doesn’t feel right to leave Felix alone. Even though he technically isn’t, you imagine it would be better to wake up to a friendly face.

“He’ll be fine.” Jeralt gives you a strange sideway glance. “The other brats rely on you right now, don’t they? Go to them.”

He’s right, of course. The mission isn’t over yet, and with a strong combatant like Felix missing, victory has just slipped from your grasp.

There is the meeting point. There it is, and no student from the Lion House is in sight. The minutes pass in long stretches, ticking away until it’s impossible to tell if time moves on or holds still. Holding out between the trees, you look in both directions—for your comrades and the enemy. For whatever reason, Byleth has decided not to advance to your position, and you aren’t sure what that’s supposed to mean. More minutes pass in aggravating silence, heavy and oppressing, and then—

“Herald!” Dimitri’s voice rings through the woods. Your head snaps to him, and there they are, the Blue Lions tearing through the woods, a yellow flag with a deer on it waving behind them.

“You did it!” Joy and relief spreads through you as you stumble towards them. “You guys really did it!” They shuffle around you like kittens searching for warmth, and something tight uncoils inside your chest. Is this what Byleth always feels when she’s in front of her class?

“Hilda and Claude were mighty opponents, but nothing we couldn’t handle,” Dimitri reassures, but then a shadow jumps over his features. “Unfortunately, Mercedes had to leave. We couldn’t reach her in time to step in.”

“Step in,” Sylvain repeats, muttered under his breath as he brushes red locks from his sweaty forehead. “I want to see you stepping in when Hilda swings that axe like a lunatic and not scream like a little girl.”

“Where is Felix?” Dedue inquirers, ignoring Sylvain.

Your shoulders drop. “Well, Linhardt was accompanied by Ferdinand, and while I pursued Linhardt, they fought. None of them emerged unscathed, although I feel Felix drew the shorter straw.”

“Felix?” Dimitri repeats. He sounds as if you just tried to convince him it’s going to rain butterscotch pie later. “Our Felix lost?”

“Not exactly the fight, but I’m sure his pride took a hard beating.”

“Well, that leaves four against four.” Dimitri brings a hand up to his chin, a worry crease between his eyebrows. “And they still have Edelgard and the Professor.”

“And we got the Herald and you!” Sylvain beams. “I say we wrap this up and celebrate our victory with a nice dinner and maybe some ale? How does that sound?”

“Sacrilegious.” Your voice is drier than the crisp leaves cracking under your feet. “Aren’t you too young for alcohol?”

“Too young and irresponsible,” Dimitri agrees with you, looking tired of Sylvain’s antics. “But I don’t object to a celebratory dinner.”

“That is, if we win.” Dedue reads your mind, and brings the conversation back on the right course.

“I assume the Black Eagles are holding position. They’re waiting for us,” you say, briefly checking everyone’s state. Safe for dirt and scratches, they’re still doing good, though having fought already, the Blue Lions are on a slight disadvantage. You can only hope some of Byleth’s students dropped out facing the Golden Deers.

“We shouldn’t keep them waiting then.” Sylvain winks, playing with the grip of his lance. The smile that flirts with his lips is threatening.

“Keep your guard up.” Dimitri shares a single, meaningful glance with every one of you, then leads your little group out of the forest. Whatever Byleth has planned, you hope that you’ll be ready for it.

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karoiseka · 3 years

Text

Bow

((Okay. C’mon. This is me with Karo here. You KNOW which way I was gonna pronounce/interpret this word... Anyways, I was gonna do this just simple thing where I had Karo as my main “narrator” going through things... and then... well. Seirlait said no. He said his turn. So. Some more Karo backstory, and Dads backstory too.))

Seirlait looked at the tiny bow in his hands and again wondered why he had traded for it in the last town they were in. Feo had been teaching Karo reading and numbers, not to mention introducing her to the tales that he so loved in book format. Her thirst for knowledge was strong and he wanted to encourage that as much as possible, but she had also been asking about hunting with him. He had put it off, waiting until he was positive that it was something she wanted to learn, but she had been sneaking out to watch him practice, or just using the excuse to sit outside the wagon as he set up his targets. His bow was almost as tall as she was, but, despite that Seir had caught her holding it on more than one occasion, tugging gently on the bowstring, eyes wide at how taut it was.

He had found a seller with a Lalafell sized bow--not too hard on the pull--and bought it, hiding it in his pack. She wasn’t much taller than most grown people of that race, and he didn’t want to get her something too soft. If she couldn’t pull it, she’d do chores to grow into it. He had gotten a collection of arrows to fit it as well, and laid it in her chair for when she awoke in the morning. She might not realize, but it had been a year since he found her in the clearing, alone and forgotten. All their lives had changed so much in so little time, and she had blossomed in their care, growing towards the bright sunny future.

Many years later, the small kitten had grown into a lithe teen, the blue in her hair more pronounced, and tan facial markings darkening with time. Karo had taken to the bow as if she had been born with one in her hand, an equal to his hunting skills after her years of training. Together they took on small bounties and hunted for those that couldn’t for coin, helping to augment their trading and adding pelts and meat to sell. She had long graduated her starter bow, and now carried a short bow well suited for the forests the mainly hunted in. Despite being a natural, if they were out together, she still looked to him for guidance though and approval, finding his eyes after every shot to make sure she had done well. He thanked the Twelve that she hadn’t lost her thirst for knowledge either, days filled with hunting and evenings filled with learning.

It all hadn’t been smooth sailing, several winters were very lean having to be creative with their stores and food, and there had been one that they had to forego staying in the cabin altogether, staying on the road going far south into Thanalan hoping for the warmer weather to stave off the ill fortune of that year. There were the normal storms, rocky patches, and growing pains as well, though they all came together in the end. And she continued to grow.

The short wooden bow was gripped with white-knuckles as tears streamed down three broken faces. They had arrived back after five long years away--traveling all over, giving succor where able and learning the new pathways and ways of the world after disaster had struck and torn all asunder. The last thing Seirlait and Feophaux expected to be confronted with when they joyously made their way back to their home was the stranger in their daughter’s body. Blue eyes held no recognition, wondering who they were as they invaded her haven from the outer world. They had tried to reconcile, tried to make her remember, each moment, each sun bringing more pain. A small pack was slung over her shoulder, bow in hand as she fled--no memories to help her on her path, no desire to remain a moment more. The men clung to each other, distraught, but knowing nothing else to do but let her go--their precious daughter they could no longer protect.

The silver trimmed with deep blue gems called to Seir as his hand hovered over beautiful trimming on the sting bow. They had come, traveling further than ever with the rumors of the Warrior of Light being in the area, but were about to flee again with actually looking for her--again. The fear of the unseeing, unrecognizing eyes glancing over them was almost more painful than not seeing her at all. They had found that plenty of the people in the rebuilt outpost knew and loved their daughter--which did not surprise them. Seir looked over at Feo, and dug out most of their funds, paying off the balance of the beautiful bow that could help keep her safe. Next time she was there, the bow would be her's, and they could sleep just a little better.

They were able to pull the trick off of funding her a better weapon one more time, just before the battle at Ghimlyt Dark. The exotic bow that she had started paying on was fashioned with a dragon in the Doma style, and they knew she had spent plenty of time there the past couple of years freeing the people there. It was hard to picture their little girl pulling such an obvious weapon of war instead of a hunting bow made for practicality. It mattered naught if it kept her safe. They could hear commotion at the tunnel leading to the lands toward Ala Mhigo, and they fled back to the Shroud as fast as their Chocobos were willing to go--once more fearful of eyes that would see right through them. They would linger though, helping these desperate people rebuild as best they could. They had already brought a wagon full of travelers--refugees--from Little Ala Mhigo in the south of Thanalan back to their homeland. It didn’t pay much--but that’s not why they did it.

To be able to help her, in the slightest way, to help those that she helped as well and hear the first hand tales of those that she had sat and talked with, made a difference to. It was all they could have for now, and would take with both hands as best they could until she came back to them. A letter sat, forlorn and full of hope, ready to be found it time brought her back home when they weren’t there--a reminder of their love of her that never waned.

#ffxiv #FFXIVWrite2021 #karoiseka #seirlait #feophaux #backstory #ooc I was always broke on Karo #and I figured the tomes took a while to earn up #soooo..#I dunno #I liked the idea #and I'm horrible at dialogue #so #there's none of that #I am happy with this #and proud of how I figured out how to put the bows on the counter.#hehehe

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mirkwoodshewolf · 4 years

Text

I just wanted to make you smile again; 10th Doctor x child reader

*Author’s note*

Okay to the anon who requested this fic THANK YOU FOR BEING SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO PATIENT WITH ME!!!! To those anons and users who have sent me requests literally since last year I thank you all for your patience, I AM GETTING THEM DONE SLOWLY BUT SURELY. I’m already in process of doing another DW fic w/13th doctor (one of the first requests I got when I opened them last year) so I hope you all enjoy this fic.

This takes place after the episode Journey’s end so to those that haven’t seen the episode yet SPOILERS AHEAD!!! Angst and fluff is what this fic is. Enjoy my lovelies and until next time ;)

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@platawnic

_________________________________________________________

Things have been—tough. The Daleks, one of my daddy’s biggest enemies nearly had us and almost succeeded in destroying all of life and matter as we know it. But thanks to some fast thinking and with the help of a clone of my dad, we managed to stop Davros as well as the rest of the Daleks.

But honestly that was the easy part. The hardest was saying goodbye to all of our friends. Rose and her mum went back to the parallel world with the meta-human clone of my daddy, Captain Jack took Martha and Mickey off on another adventure, Sarah Jane (an old friend of my dad’s long before I was born) went back home, and Donna—oh poor, poor Donna.

Daddy said that in order to help stop the Daleks, Donna, who had touched the severed hand of my dad when he first became this new version of himself, gained so much knowledge of the Timelords and of our home that it could overwhelm her brain and eventually kill her. So my dad had to absorb all memory of Timelord knowledge, including all the times she spent with us.

After taking her back home, daddy told her father that it was too dangerous for her to remember anything. If there was a glimpse of her recovering her memories, she would die. So my dad and I left her and her family and he never went back.

Since that day, almost seven months later, he still carries that guilt. And what’s worse is that he hasn’t been the same. He doesn’t smile as much as he used to before. I think out of everything that I love about my daddy, it’s his smile that always made me feel happy and safe.

I stepped out of my room to see him where he usually was, standing at the controls with that dazed but intense look on his face. I looked down at paper butterfly and cautiously walked towards my dad. It’s always a touch and go of how he’ll react whenever he’s in that deep haze. One time he actually shouted at me and I was scared to even go near him for an entire week till he apologized to me with some Turkish delights.

“Daddy.” I said softly. “Umm…uhh daddy?” he snapped out of his daze and looked down at me.

“Oh (Y/n). Sorry I was just—I was just trying to find….nothing. What is it that you wanted to tell me?”

“Well I—finished my paper butterfly and I-wanted to give it to you.” I held it out to him and he looked down at me. He knelt down and took the butterfly from my hands and I saw his eyes grow soft.

“It’s beautiful love. Thank you.” he gently ruffled my hair and placed my butterfly right along the controls. It didn’t work.

I had hoped that my paper butterfly would get him to smile. He always smiled whenever I made him little trinkets of my own design, or beautiful art projects that I’ve seen on Earth. I thought that by doing an art project, he’d smile again but it didn’t work.

I was currently in my room reading some books written back in the 20th century. I’ve always found that time period to be rather splendid. It was a simpler time (if you don’t count the 2 World wars, the Great depression, and every war after that. You know why must humans always start wars?)

Anyways, the start of the 20th century is always my favorite place. It’s quiet, tranquil, and peaceful. A nice place, especially out in the countryside. People can have picnics, host carnivals, and yeah the grown men partake in Foxhunt but I think it’s a barbaric sport and yet they call it tradition.

Maybe if—maybe if we stayed there for a while, daddy could get better and smile once again. I think the more time we stay in the TARDIS and just keep going through space and time, the more unhappy daddy’s gonna get, like I said he always gets lost in his head and the more bad things that happen around him, the more he keeps it bottled up inside and the more sadder he gets.

The only question now was this—how was I gonna get there? I don’t know how to drive the TARDIS cause daddy always told me to keep my grabby little paws off of it. Oh wait that’s it! I raced over to my drawer and pulled out the middle one and dug through it till I found what I was looking for.

A special teleportation watch gifted to me by Uncle Jack when my dad was in his previous form (just shortly after we first met him). I placed the watch on my wrist and I set the time and date that I wanted to go to. Once the coordinates were typed in, I pressed the center of the watch and I disappeared from my room and went to go set up my surprise for daddy.

*10th Doctor’s POV*

I was fiddling around with the controls when I turned and looked up at my daughter’s butterfly. For months now she’s been making these little trinkets and art projects for me, and I really haven’t been fair to her. A lot has happened to us, especially with what happened to Donna, and I hate to admit this to myself but I’ve been neglecting my little butterfly.

Maybe she would like it if I took her to see her favorite constellation, or maybe Barcelona (she always did like Barcelona). Oh! No wait! The Music of the Spheres! Yes brilliant! She and I could use some music in our life, the sound of the universe singing to us.

“Hey (Y/n)! Can you come out here for a second?” I called out to her. No response. Okay I know it usually takes her a bit of time to come down from her room but usually she’d be right here by now. “(Y/n)? (Y/n) I said can you come here please?” bah she must be listening to that loud music again, that lass I tell you what.

I left the console room and headed on over to her room and saw that her door was shut which was surprising cause she usually keeps her door open. I knocked on it and said.

“Poppet, are you okay? You’re not—upset or anything are you?” I still didn’t hear anything from her. “Look I—I know we’ve been through a lot the past several months, and I have no excuse for not speaking to you. I’m sorry. So—can you please open the door so we can talk?” still nothing.

Alright I know she has a right to be upset but she can’t give me the silent treatment forever. I opened up the door and snapped.

“Alright little madam you listen here I—” it was then I saw that she wasn’t in her room. “(Y/n)?” I looked around her room to see if she was hiding in her closet again (she always takes every advantage to jump out and scare me) but when I saw that she wasn’t there, that’s when I began to get worried.

As I left her room and began to look all around the TARDIS from the backroom pool, to the library I still couldn’t find her.

“C’mon poppet don’t do this to me.” I searched high and low, near and far and every crack in between but she still wasn’t around. “No, no, no, no, no love don’t do this to me! (Y/n)!”

I raced back towards the console and went over to the computer monitor and I quickly typed in her lifeform energy. Since she was the only Timelord in existence (well next to me), I knew that she could be pinpoint at any time in any era she might be in. I only hope that I can get to her before—no! NO DON’T THINK LIKE THAT!! You WON’T lose her like you lost Donna!

“C’mon you blasted thing LOAD!!!” I screamed at the computer before finally I got a hit. London, England 1908. Of course, she always said the start of the 20th century was her favorite time period. I punched in the coordinates and flipped the switch and soon the TARDIS started back up and I was sailing back in time over 100 years into the past.

Once I arrived, I peeked out of the TARDIS and found myself adjacent to a large park. It was pretty peaceful, families were out and about doing their normal human interactions. I shut the doors to the TARDIS and I quickly raced over to the park and searched for (Y/n).

This was where her last known readings were at. At this exact spot so where could that little troublemaker be at? I walked up to a couple and said.

“Hi sorry to bother you but I was wondering if you have found a little girl around 5 years old with (h/l) (h/c) hair and (e/c) eyes? She’s my daughter and she’s wondered off again.”

“No sorry. We haven’t seen any little girls fitting that description.” Said the man as he and his wife continued on their walk. I then found another couple who seemed a more upper-class couple due to the diamond necklace around the woman’s neck.

“Excuse me could you both please help me I’m looking for my daughter have either of you……”

“We don’t have time to look for lost children, that’s what the servants are for.” Said the man.

“And who loses their child anyway? Such irresponsibility.” The woman snide. I looked at them offendedly and said.

“At least I don’t dump my child on anyone else! I’m surprised that people like you could even have children.” They looked at me appalled before huffing and walking away from me.

I grunted and adjusted my jacket trying to compose myself when a small Cockney accent said.

“You said you were looking for (Y/n)?” I turned around and there was a young ginger haired boy with freckles speckled all over his face. His bright blue eyes staring up at me and he wore a paper boy’s uniform.

“Yeah that’s my daughter’s name. Do you know where she is?”

“Course I do Gov. Just got done talking with her before I started my work sir. She’s right by the lake.”

“The Lake! Oh thank you lad. Thank you so much.”

“No problem, good luck governor.” I raced off towards the lake and when I got there, I soon saw my daughter sitting right by the lake surrounded by flowers and in her lap it looked like she was in the process of making a flower crown.

The important thing was that she was safe, but that little missy is sooo going to get it now.

I trudged my way towards her and exclaimed.

“(Y/n)!” she stopped her work and turned around. Her big (e/c) eyes staring up at me and a smile spread across her face. She stood up and ran towards me and hugged around my legs.

“Daddy you came!”

“Yes I did.” I knelt down and began to check to see if she was hurt or worst case scenario been replaced by a Graske. “Are you hurt?”

“No I’m perfectly fine.”

“Answer me this then. Who was the first companion that we had together?”

“Rose Tyler.” Okay this was my baby girl. I immediately hugged her and whispered to her as I rest my head on top of hers.

“I thought I had lost you.” I then separated from her before scolding her vert sternly, “Do you have any idea how worried I was!? You leave your room with no note! How on earth did you leave the TARDIS without my knowledge?!”

“Uncle Jack’s time jump watch.” She said nervously as she held out her wrist. I looked down and right there was the time teleport watch that Jack had given her shortly after we met him for the first time in my previous state.

“That figures. Remind me to never let him give you anymore teleportation gifts without my permission.” I muttered to myself. “Bottom line is that you left the TARDIS without my permission and had me scared to death! What if something happened to you hmm? Did it ever cross your mind about how that would make me feel!?”

Yes I know my voice was steadily getting angrier and angrier but she should’ve realized that my one rule for her is to never, ever, ever leave the TARDIS without my permission or knowledge and she broke that rule.

“I—I’m sorry daddy. I just……thought that if I brought you here, you would be happy.” My anger quickly vanished and confusion now took its place.

“What?” I asked her.

“Ever since—” she deeply sighed. “After what happened with Donna you never smile anymore. No matter what I’ve done, I could never get you to smile. Your real smile, the smile that always made me feel loved and protected. I thought that maybe we could—stay here for a while till you were happy again.” She looked down with regret.

I rubbed my hand over my face and through my hair before looking back down at her. I cupped my hands over her face and I said to her.

“What would I ever do without you my little butterfly?” she smiled softly.

“So we can stay?” she asked.

“For now.” I answered her. She squealed happily and immediately hugged me around my neck repeatedly telling me thank you. I smiled and embraced my baby girl back and kissed the top of her head as I rocked her back and forth.

This little madam truly does have me wrapped around her little finger, and she seems to know it as well. But she was right. Staying in one area made you stop and admire what’s around you, and not stay trapped inside your head letting your demons torment you.

We stayed in 1908 for about five months just enjoying each other’s company. Going to the park every day, having picnics and tea parties out in the garden of our rented little cottage, and stargazing every night teaching her more about the galaxy and the stars.

For the first time ever, I felt—peaceful, no regrets, no painful reminders of what I had to do to Donna, it was just me and my daughter.

#doctor who #doctor who fandom #doctor who fanfic #doctor who x reader #doctor who imagine #doctor who imagines #doctor who fanfiction #10th doctor #10th doctor fanfic #10th doctor fanfiction #10th doctor imagine #10th doctor imagines #10th doctor x reader #10th doctor x child reader #david tennant

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unokins · 3 years

Text

No Truth Left - part 6

CW: N/A

Link to Archive

Maverick mentally shook himself. Now was not the time for self doubt. He needed to act with confidence.

Further ingraining himself into Chie's arms, he searched the pile. The pain made moving her difficult, making the simple task all the more annoying. Bodies were such an inconvenience, though Maverick knew he had dealt with such things before, however recalcitrant he had been. Pain was a sensation best experienced by those who were not him.

Several minutes of searching finally yielded a suitable result. Rings were too unnoticeable, necklaces and tiaras too bulky. But Chie's hands held up two gold bracelets. Maverick pressed a clasp and the bracelets swung open to snap around the wrist. Two thick rings of gold provided the support for the worshipping Deep Ones that danced around the metal.

Maverick clamped one on Chie's wrist, then the other. They were lightweight and ran halfway up her skinny forearms. Maverick shook her arms, bouncing the bracelets around bony wrists.

The gold shuddered and squeezed, becoming flush with Chie's flesh. Not tight enough to cut off circulation, but they no longer hung loosely. The golden Deep Ones glinted menacingly against Chie's brown skin.

That's fine, Maverick thought to himself, letting Chie's arms drop as he pulled away. The needling pain vanished and he sighed. That's fine.

Chie awoke several minutes later with a breathless wheeze. Groaning, she sat up, body shaking from cold, head pounding, and chest burning.

Took you long enough. Maverick sounded impatient and Chie sighed.

"How long was I-" she stopped, incredulousness pulling her face down as she stared at her wrists. "What are these? Shackles? How did I-" She demanded.

They’re bracelets, came the exasperated reply. They should give us some measure of protection. The Deep Ones should think we're worshippers. Well, that you're a worshipper, anyway.

"No way," Chie started, examining the jewelry. There was the latch and Chie clicked it. "Last time I listened to you, I almost drowned. These-"

She pressed the latch again. It didn't release. “Oh, come on.” She pressed and pulled the bracelet at the same time. Nothing. Using her nails, Chie dug into the hairline crack where the ends met with futility.

"Shit."

We can worry about getting them off later. Get up and move. We've got a moment alone.

She could feel scrapes on her belly, shoulders, and legs throb. That tunnel had been so- Don’t think about it. Her fingernails were torn and chipped from where she had- Don’t think about it. Bracing herself against the wall, Chie stood. Her legs wobbled and her head spun. What did almost drowning- Don’t think about it. If she wanted to live, she couldn’t afford to think about it.

Once the world settled, Chie clicked on her flashlight and explored the cavern. It was like many of the other tunnels she explored earlier, just wider. Sloping walls surrounded her, and a few puddles dotted the floor. The piles of gold were new. Some stood at knee height, others stacked in disarray to waist height. They dotted the tunnel like haystacks in a farmer’s field, and Chie weaved around them, trying not to disturb them. The air was brisk and waves lapped against stone gently. Even though the rank, fishy odor still hung in the air, it wasn't as overwhelming as the island's topside.

As Chie passed one of the many piles of gold, she lingered. Admiration for the details was marred by a feeling of grotesque discomfort. It almost felt as if there was something more within the angled lines and swirling metal, as if she should be putting something together. But the more she tried to piece something together, the more it slipped away.

Shaking her head as if that could rid her of the unease, Chie took a step forward and felt her leg buckle. She shut her eyes, bracing herself against a stalactite as a wave of dizziness washed over her. Her throat still stung from earlier, and she didn't want to vomit again.

Keep moving, Chie, Maverick prodded. She could almost feel him poking her in the small of the back.

"Give me a minute." Slow, deep breaths. If she took it slow, she'd be fine.

We can't afford a minute. Move!

"I almost died, Maverick!" Chie snapped at him. "I almost died." Chie blinked back tears and focused again on breathing. It came crashing back with terrifying clarity, refusing to be ignored. Her shoulders shook. "I need a minute."

And the more time you spend moaning about it, the more likely something will find you.

Chie's muscles tensed. "If I'm not moving fast enough, why don't you take control and move me?" Chie paused for a remark, but none came. "If I'm such a spineless pushover, then take my body from me!"

Maverick was silent. Chie didn't push him, slipping to the ground.

"I almost fucking died and you just..." Chie laughed weakly, running her hand over her face. Did her parents know where she was? Her friends? Would they have spent years wondering when she'd come home, only for her corpse to be stuck in a flooded tunnel surrounded by monsters? "I'm- I just-"

You're alive. Maverick sounded chastised, and his words had the strained tone of someone who wasn't used to being patient. Steady yourself. Spiraling won't save you.

"You suck at giving advice," Chie muttered. Maverick didn't reply and she was thankful. A moment for herself wouldn’t kill them. While water dripped from the ceiling above, she could hear no slapping footsteps approaching.

Chie breathed deep, and slipped to the ground, pulling her knees up to her chest and burying her face in them. Would she lose everything important to her? The burning in her chest refused to relent, and Chie coughed. She coughed again, as if there was more water to expel, and tears tracked down her cheeks again. She didn’t want to be here, where monsters were real and death was closer than she ever imagined.

Several minutes of feeling sorry for herself wasn’t as fulfilling as she thought it would be. When the tears ran out, and Chie’s breathing steadied once more, she just felt hollow. There was nothing for her here except answers as to why this happened, and she wouldn’t find them sitting on the ground and moping. Chie pushed herself up. She was still alive. She kept moving. Maverick's satisfaction hummed from within.

Turning a corner led Chie to a new, larger cavern. Smooth ceilings sloped down to walls filled with both carvings and multiple tunnel entrances. Large pillars, boasting more of those strange carvings, ran from floor to ceiling, and Chie wondered if they were the same pillars she saw on the surface. Perhaps giving them a wide berth was the smart idea.

The back of the cavern opened to the vast ocean stretching beyond the reef. There was no shore, just a short, sharp drop from rock to water. Shadows from the overhanging cliff danced on the murky water. Thankfully, no Deep Ones stalked the area. Chie picked her way to the ocean, weaving around shallow pools and discarded gold jewelry.

While the gold was stacked more orderly against the stalactites and carved rocks here, they had been set aside like a child's least favorite toys. Grime marred the jewelry, and bits of ill-looking moss had begun to grow at the bottom of some of the piles. She frowned, running her finger along the maze-like lines of a beautiful tiara. A thin layer of muck was cleared away from the once gleaming surface.

Chie, look up!

Her head twitched, and Chie’s eyes widened with awe. While she had seen boats run through the river Miskatonic, she had never seen a ship like this before. It was more decay than wood, and a large hole gaped in the bow where it was moored against the cavern's stone floor, several dozen feet from a stone dock. One large mast jutted up from the deck, the other two broken fragments of what they once were. White sails were rotted to grey tatters that clung stubbornly to their riggings. No longer fit for sailing, but Chie was in awe of how majestic it must have been decades ago. The name Sumatra Queen was faded but still visibly painted on its side.

Chie paused in front of the ship, shining the flashlight up into the massive hole. Shadows clung to the dark wood, but she could see stairs leading to the rest of the ship.

To your right.

Chie looked over to the dock. Next to the dock stood a metal and plastic folding table that held a battery powered lamp, papers, and pens. As she walked over to it, she saw more sturdy nylon rope on the dock. A frown tugged at her lips.

Let’s see what these say.

Chie turned on the lamp and picked through the papers. Laminated star charts, maps, spreadsheets, and receipts littered the tabletop and the more she looked, the more confused she felt. She examined a star chart, eyes methodically moving over the grid.

“While I’m not an astrology buff,” she started, glancing over another chart. “I should be able to pick out some constellations. But I can’t find anything, not even Polaris. Do you recognize anything?”

Vaguely, Maverick replied with a hum. It’s… strange. I’m not too sure what, exactly, I’m looking at.

“...Stars?” Chie asked as she looked at receipts. Iron, chisels, old books…

I don’t think they’re any stars of this world, Chie.

“We are not going to unpack that right now,” she replied bluntly, tossing the receipt back down. “Just who are you, Maverick?”

Wish I knew. He paused. Hey, there’s a letter.

Chie picked that up. It was less of a letter and more of a to-do list. Hastily scrawled notes, some scratched out, others circled, covered the paper. Some of it was illegible. Other parts didn’t even seem to be written in English.

“Gather materials. Prepare the gates,” Chie read out loud. “Innsmouth, Arkham, Ipswitch…”

Looks like the rest are just coordinates. Probably not near any cities, Maverick said.

Chie pulled out one of the maps and picked a coordinate. “Here,” she said, pointing to a red circle drawn on the map. It was a few miles into the open ocean, just off the Devil’s Reef. “And… Here. Dunwich.” She frowned, pulling up a world map. “This one has marks… all over the place. More in America, some in the UK. Russia, Brazil, Antarctica, Egypt… More just… in the ocean. What is this?”

I don’t know. With each question Chie asked, Maverick’s annoyance flared. But I do recognize the name Ipswitch.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Chie said, looking at the to-do list again. Contact J.H., contact N, find M. “I went there for a school trip once. Decent sized town. Nice historical district.”

No, I mean it feels… personal, in some way. I remember… an address. Maverick paused, and Chie could feel him thinking, almost mouthing the words to himself to pull any more familiarity from them. 97 Washington Ave.

“Hm…” Chie lingered on the to-do list.

We need to go there next.

“Hold on,” Chie said, shaking her head. “I thought we were supposed to get answers here! We just have more questions! I can’t just go galavanting all over Massa-”

The gentle hum of an engine cut her off. It was quiet, but fast approaching, the sound echoing all through the cavern. She couldn’t see it yet, but knew if she didn’t hide somewhere fast, it would get her.

Chie dropped the list and stepped away from the dock. She lingered. That was an actual boat. With an engine. No fish monster would need a boat to travel over the water. Which meant people.

The engine’s puttering grew louder.

No, Chie, Maverick cut in. You need to hide. You don’t know who these people are. And if they’re coming out to the Devil’s Reef, they’re going to be trouble.

“We’re out at the Devil’s Reef,” Chie returned as she held up her hands, bringing the bracelets into plain sight. “And what was the point of putting these on if you want to hide? If this person thinks we’re on their side, maybe they’ll help us.”

He’s going to hurt us.

“Maybe they’re just a fisherman. Maybe they saw our boat. ”

Chie! Go hide!

>Hide >Wait

#horror #writing #horror story #choose your own path #choose your own adventure #original writing #ocs #original characters #lovecraft #lovecraftian horror #lovecraftian #lovecraft horror #let me know in the replies or reblogs what they should do #thank you everyone who continues to read my writing #no truth left

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biggest-stupidhead · 3 years

Text

Freedom Seekers (Levi x OC)

Summary: The seekers embark on their journey, meanwhile the scouts also strike out in search of dragons that have been stirring up trouble near a small village.

Warnings: Vomit, minor violence

Word Count: 5.1K

Levi stood on the sidelines of the large field and watched as his trainees sparred with each other. The sun glared over them, the day was hot for so early on in the summer. The large field was dry and dusty due to the cadets’ boots kicking up the loose earth. Levi watched the nearest pair spar, a short blonde girl and an averagely tall boy with dark brown hair. The fight was over nearly as soon as it started, the blonde girl walking away victorious as the boy landed flat on his ass at his captain’s feet. As the dust settled, Levi noticed a layer of grime settling on his perfectly polished leather boots. He looked down to see the boy rubbing the back of his neck, those jade green eyes of his looking up at Levi a bit sheepishly.

“You are completely limp out there Jaeger. The goal is to fight your partner, not dance around them.” Levi said now looking at the blonde who had thrown the boy, she was waiting patiently for the kid to return to the fray. The dark haired boy sat up, clearly winded, his shoulders sagged in defeat, Levi stared down to him and kicked his back slightly. Pushing him back on their “battlefield.”

“Levi.” A familiar voice said behind him. He turned around to see Hange at the gate. She was kneeled over, sweat dripped down her nose, her glasses fogging from the heat and accumulated sweat. Disgusting. He thought to himself as he watched her catch her breath.

“What is it Hange?” Levi asked, walking over to the woman.

“Erwin needs us to suit up.” Hange said, composing herself. Levi looked around at his team, who were now all listening to their conversation. Large smiles spread on most of their faces, work had been slow since the kingdom had succeeded in capturing Marley. He sighed and walked back over to his team, his arms placed behind his back, head held high.

“Go get yourselves cleaned up. Captain Hange and I will be back with orders.” Levi ordered, the teenagers all began to head for their assigned barracks to wash up and pull on their uniforms. Once the last of the cadets had fled the field he turned and watched Hange rise to her full height. She swiped the back of her hand over her forehead as she sighed. Levi reached deep into his pocket and produced a neat handkerchief, he offered her the piece of fabric and she accepted it gratefully.

“Care to share more details about this mission?” Levi asked as he turned to retreat back to the main building where the superior officers of the Scouting Regiment worked and lived.

“Of course! Essentially there has been an increase in sightings outside of a small village located near Shiganshina. At least three different dragons have been identified in the area. Erwin has given me permission to bring in the smallest of the trio-”

“That’s enough.” Levi cut her off before she could get too carried away. She huffed in defeat, the wind seeming to leave her sails at Levi’s interruption.

“Erwin just needs to brief us.” Hange said, now fully composed. She turned and walked away, Levi followed her. Walking a few good paces behind her. They went into the large castle-like building. The space was not up to his standards of cleanliness by any means. The scouts were only using the building as a temporary headquarters, meaning that Erwin had forbidden Levi from cleaning too obsessivelyI. The building was plagued with the smell of mildew and sweat, it made the man want to pinch his nose to attempt to block out the urge to scrub the place down until it shined. He managed to push those urges into the back of his mind as the pair climbed a set of stairs up to the second story where Erwin’s office was.

Hange knocked on the door three times before letting herself in, the heavy wooden doors groaned in protest as she pushed into the room. Erwin was sitting behind his desk, which was covered in a large map of the continent; he didn’t bother to look up as they entered. Sunlight streamed in through the large bay windows behind him, casting him in a golden glow, his blonde hair shining in the natural light.

“Eyebrows.” Hange greeted as she saluted a bit lazily, Erwin hummed a small smile playing onto his lips. Levi rolled his eyes and made his way to the nearest wall so he could prop himself against it.

“Glad that you both could make it.” Erwin finally set his pen down and looked up at the pair. Hange was leaning on his desk, eagerly awaiting his orders.

“As if we wouldn’t come.” Levi scoffed, rolling his eyes a bit at Erwin’s words. Erwin let out a bark of laughter at the captain’s reply.

“I’m sure you were enjoying yourself with the cadets out in the courtyard?” Erwin replied smoothly, a mischievous glint in his sapphire eyes.

“Not in a million years.” Levi grunted, the mere thought of the idiotic children causing a migrane fester within his head.

“Aw Levi you know that you love those little kids.” Hange cooed as she turned to smile at Levi.

“I do not.” Levi objected, hoping that Erwin would get on with the assignment.

“Anyway, I’m sure you’re eager to hear about your next assignment, yes?” Erwin mused, reaching into one of the towering piles of paper and pulling out an envelope.

“Please.” Levi said exasperatedly as Erwin passed the envelope off to the brunette.

“Rumor has it there is a trio of dragons that have been spotted on the edge of the western wood, along with a pair of dragon seekers. I’d like for you to bring as many of them back alive as you can. This includes the dragons.” Erwin instructed as he dug around in his desk and pulled out another paper, this one was passed off to Levi, who immediately scanned the document with narrowed eyes. Essentially it was a list of supplies that they were to bring along, chains, dragon skin armor, steel blades, herbs that worked as a powerful sedative etc.

“Of course, where will we put the beast if we manage to bring one back alive?” Hange inquired as she tucked the envelope into her breast pocket.

“I’ve made preparations.” Erwin said vaguely much to Hange’s dismay.

“I’ll trust your judgement Erwin…” Hange said slowly, her brown eyes glinting in the sunlight.

“When will you expect us back?” Levi asked, folding the paper neatly and placing it safely in his breast pocket. Erwin stood up straight and crossed his arms over his broad chest, a thoughtful look falling over his face.

“No later than two months time.” Erwin said after a moment of thought. Levi scoffed, his gaze hardening at the estimation.

“Do you really think it will take that long?” Levi growled, his chin tilting downwards as he scowled at the commander.

“Hm hopefully not, but I’m sure it will be longer than the recent missions that you’ve been assigned.” Erwin replied, eyebrows knitting together as he pondered the time frame that they were looking at.

“We’ll have it done by then.” Hange said, conviction thick in her tone. Levi nodded in agreement.

“The sooner the better, we have to be close to wiping those creatures off the face of the continent.” Levi stated as he glanced up at the dusty bookshelves that lined the walls. Erwin hummed thoughtfully as he drummed his thick calloused fingers on the wood.

“Agreed, but let’s not get sloppy with this one.” Erwin said darkly as he looked up and scanned his eyes over his two comrades' expressions. They both nodded in agreement and saluted him one last time before leaving to gather their squad and supplies. Hange closed the door softly behind them as they left Erwin’s office, her face was screwed up tightly as she thought about the information that they had just received.

“I’ll get the brats, you ready the supply wagons.” Levi said, pulling her from her thoughts. She nodded and shot him a weak smile before splitting up with him and heading in the direction of the supply shed. Levi sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, it was going to be a hassle to corral the teens. They hadn’t seen action since the front lines of the war about 4 months prior. He knew that they were probably excited to return to work, while Levi had hoped for a longer break.

By the time that Levi had reached the parlor, his squad was already lined up, knapsacks at their ankles and fists over their hearts.

“Hm must say I��m impressed.” Levi admitted as he walked slowly in front of the teens, his shoulders pulled back and hands neatly folded across his lower back.

“Not often that you idiots are punctual.” Levi mused as he stopped in front of Connie, who was now towering over him.

“We’re ready sir!” Connie said enthusiastically as he tipped his chin down to look at his captain.

“Really? Have you double checked your packs yet?” Levi asked with a quirked brow. The kids shuffled a bit guiltily before all collectively stooping and rifling through their bags to double check. Once they were finished Levi gave a curt nod of approval before motioning for them to follow him outside.

The sun was now hiding behind a thick cloud, casting dark shadows over the encampment. The wagon was nearly ready, a few other lower ranking cadets were scrambling to load the last of the sacks as Hange leaned against the edge, her nose in a book. Levi walked up alongside her and tapped her boot with his own.

“All set then?” She asked as the teens circled up, the reins of their horses in their fists.

“Yes ma'am!” Armin said enthusiastically, he’d always been a suck up to Hange.

“Very well then, Moblit my horse!” Hange said, shutting her book with a loud snapping sound. Moblit, her assistant traded her the reins for her book, a nervous look on his face.

“You’ll be careful, right section commander?” He asked, eyes wide and almost pleading. Hange waved him off dismissively and laughed a bit, reaching out to ruffle the young man’s hair.

“Of course Moblit, we’ll be back before you know it!” She assured him, Levi glanced up to see another young cadet bringing his steed over, the black stallion tossed it’s mane, he knew what was going on. Levi accepted the reins with a curt nod in thanks, he tugged himself up and into the saddle, the rest of his cadets following his lead. Armin jogged around the wagon and climbed onto the front seat, clutching the reins as he awaited Levi’s order. Once Levi had done his usual head count and was pleased with the seven heads that he counted he tugged his horses’ reins and trotted out of the fort, his squad behind him.

“We’ll reach the western woods in three days' time.” He called over the sound of horse hooves as they thundered out of the fortress.

Frankie and Killian walked leisurely through the dense forest. The two teens hadn’t talked for what seemed like miles, but they both felt a small comfort in one another's company.

“You want some?” Killian asked, shoving a small Kebabed rabbit in front of Frankie's face. She pushed it away, already full from the rabbit that she’d had earlier.

“Fine. More for me I guess.” Killian said, grabbing the remaining rabbit of the small stick and swallowing it whole. Frankie looked at the boy with disgust. He gave her a toothy smile. The afternoon sun beamed down through the canopy of the dense wood and Frankie sighed, they had planned on moving largely at night, when dragons were to be most active.

“We have to be close. I can feel it.” Frankie said looking around to only see an abundance of trees. She hoped that they could leave the pitiful camp before sundown to continue their journey through the woods.

“Frank’s. It can take years. We just have to try and have fun while you’re out here.” Killian said, nudging the young girl. She rolled her eyes, of course he would say something stupid like that, he was the one with years to try, she only had about ten months left.

“I just can’t shake the feeling that something’s here.” Frankie said, turning a corner by the mountain side. They had elected to camp at the foot of a mountain, which was on the edge of the woods, the village about a day’s walk away. Although Frankie was in her element, shrouded by trees, bow on her back and hunting knife secured on her hip, she still felt uneasy. The wood was rumored to be populated largely by mythical creatures yet they hadn't seen anything more exotic than a quail. She stood and rested her hand against the steep wall of the mountain, the stone seemed to hum underneath her fingertips and she pulled her hand back as if she had been struck. She gasped and stared in awe at the mountain side, tilting her head curiously she slowly reached out and placed her fingertips timidly against the stone once more. This time she wasn’t startled by the humming stone, instead she closed her eyes and focused on the vibrations.

She’d felt this feeling before, it was familiar yet foriegn all at once. Yes, this was the unmistakable feeling of magic, a powerful spell at that. Excitement bubbled in her chest as she recalled the lesson that the elder had taught them a few years back, about how some strong dragons had the ability to cast spells. She pulled her hand back and turned to beam at Killian.

“Come feel this Killian!” She called out, running over and dragging the boy to his feet and over to the stone. She pressed his open palm onto the mountside, his brows furrowed as she looked up at him expectantly.

“I knew you should’ve eaten, you’re seeing things.” He teased, pulling his hand off the rock and looking down at her with a wry smirk. She rolled her eyes and looked back at their small camp,

“Pack it up, we need to check this out, it feels like powerful earth magic.” Frankie said, determination written on her face as she grabbed a handful of dry dirt and tossed it on the fire. The flames flickered out and Killian began to gather their sleeping rolls. Frankie swung her bag over her shoulder and looked back up at the mountain. Killian returned to her side with the supplies in hand, he watched her expectantly, trusting her judgement though he didn’t get the same feeling as her. He did know that it smelled of rain in his nose, a damp smell that was fresh on the mountain side despite the fact that the whole two weeks they had spent in the woods, not a single rain cloud had let loose a drop of water.

He began to mess with the leather bracelet on his wrist. It had become a new habit, the object had permanently made an indent in his pale skin. For it was two sizes too small for him. Though he couldn’t bring himself to take it off. Frankie walked slowly along the base of the mountain, her hand held a few inches off the stone. As they walked further along the mountain Frankie began to hear a voice. Which seemed impossible, for the mountain was far too thick for people to inhabit.

“We must move him before the hunters find us. I can only hold them off for so long.” The voice was deep and scratchy, it made the young girl shiver. The sound was muffled still, and she was sure that the owner of the voice was the one casting the spell. She placed her ear to the mountain trying to get a better understanding.

“What’s wrong with ya?” Killian asked, stepping next to Frankie, his eyes filled with confusion.

“There’s someone inside the mountain.” Frankie said, her eyes darting all along the rock, looking for a weak link in the spell.

“No one is inside the mountain.” Killian said, following her eyes.

“I know there is. You have to trust me. I have not gone mad. ” Frankie said, now beginning to run along the mountain side. Killian followed her pace, a bad feeling taking hold over his gut.

“I never said you had gone mad.” Killian said, with a deep worry in his voice.

The girl ran fast, even dropping her satchel on the ground, much to Killian’s displeasure, he stooped and snatched the bag up once more. She knew there was someone or somethign in there. She just had to find an opening. She was so enraptured with the mountain side, she almost ran right off the edge of a small cliff and into a crystalline pool of water. Killian held her fast, his fist knotted in the back of her cloak. They both breathed heavily as they looked at the water below and the roaring waterfall across the pool.Vines hung from the cliffs, large rocks loomed under the surface of the impossibly clear water, a deer was sipping from the banks, unaware of the teens on the cliff above.

“That explains the water that I smelled earlier.” Killian mumbled as he gave Frankie’s cloak one last tug and pulled her back against his chest and safely away from the cliffside. Frankie shrugged him off and walked towards a thick brush of vegetation. She pulled her hunting knife off her belt and cut through the vines as if they were warm butter. Once the vines were gone, a rough stone staircase was revealed, Killian whimpered as Frankie fearlessly began to descend the steps. At the bottom they found themselves right below the waterfall, the pond to their right and mountain to their left, they had nowhere to go but under the spray of the water. Frankie inhaled sharply and ducked under, leaving Killian standing dumbstruck on the stone steps.

“Frankie?” Killian called out with a slightly shaky voice, he unsheathed his dagger, readying himself for a fight.

“It’s alright Killian, come on in!” Frankie’s voice echoed against the stones as she squinted into the darkness. Killian pushed into the cave and reached out blindly, his hand falling on Frankie’s back, he fisted her cloak once more. She allowed him to hang off of her as she waited for her eyes to adjust.

“Don’t suppose you have a torch on you?” Killian joked despite his shaking nerves.

“Actually…” Frankie reached for her bag and yelped when she realized that she’d dropped it in her haste. Killian chuckled and handed it to her, she riffled through the bag and produced some flint and steel and a small candle. She passed the candle to Killian as she struck the steel against the flint, casting small sparks into the darkness. Finally one of the sparks caught the wick, illuminating her face against the darkness. Frankie held the candle up, causing large shadows to be cast along the dripping walls of the cave.

“There.” Killian said, pointing towards a large passage that sloped upwards, large steps leading up into the darkness. Frankie nodded and carefully picked her way through the moist cave until they reached the mouth of the passage way. Killian still had a tight hold on her cloak, his hot breath on Frankie’s neck was beginning to annoy her. The pair carefully climbed the large steps, stooping down to get a better view of the stairs with the candle. After what felt like hours, they reached a landing, the stairway abruptly turned left going deeper into the mountainside, but having turned the corner, strangely enough they could see what appeared to be daylight. Killian’s grip tightened at the sight, Frankie sighed at the revelation of more stairs and continued to press onward. At last they reached the top, and to their amazement the light that they had seen was indeed sunlight. The top of the vaulted cavern was open, vines draped down the walls of the cave, a freshwater spring bubbled in the center of the large space.

However what caught their attention was not the impressive cave, no it was the hulking mass that sat hunched to the left of the stairs. Yellow scaled rippled and claws scratched against the stone as the creature turned to pull a vine off the wall. When the massive male dragon moved, he revealed two more dragons, one an emerald green with beady brown eyes, which were focused on a shaking young dragon, curled up between the emerald dragons forelegs. The sandy yellow dragon turned once more to the youngling and offered it the vines, the creature whimpered pathetically.

“Don’t make me father! It tastes awful!” the small dragon squeaked out, Frankie stood frozen at the entrance, now grateful for Killian’s touch that kept her in the present.

“You must, this will help with the pain.” The yellow dragon spoke, his voice was gravely and over all abrasive.

“Loto.” A softer voice interjected, the shuffling of wings made a chill run down Frankie’s spine.

“Mind your father dear.” the dragoness’ head poked over the male’s body, chin tilted downwards to keep her eyes on the young dragon.

“But mother-” a draft of air breezed through the cavern and the dragons froze, Frankie knew what had happened. Their scent had been revealed, there was no backing down now, it was time to put their knowledge to the test.

“Who’s there.” The father growled, his head swinging his large head to face the source of the scent.

“We come in peace!” Frankie called out, holding up her hands to show that she held no weapons. Killian shoved his sword back into its scabbard and held his own hands up. The dragon’s head cocked to the side, his golden eye glinting in the sun, his pupils dilating and contracting as he studied them. It was said that just by looking at a person a dragon could tell if they were pure of heart or not. Frankie and Killian now understood where that saying came from.

“What’s a pair of dragon seekers doing so deep in the forest? So far into enemy territory?” The golden dragon hummed, his one good eye studying them, his bad eye was milky, a thick pink scar cut down the length of his face.

“We are in search of our partners, we mean you no harm.” Killian assured the dragons, the smallest one whimpered as it chewed the vines, while the female stood to her full height, at least 10 feet tall at the shoulder, her elegant neck stretched up to at least 13 feet. Meanwhile the male seemed to measure up to be 15 feet tall at the horns and 12 feet at the shoulder.

“In search for your partners?” The male growled, his head lowering as he took a few threatening steps forwards.

“Yes.” Killian said, puffing his chest up and lifting his chin, it was known that dragons were not fans of the meek.

“What is your name boy?” His inquired, now only about 20 feet away, heat radiated off his body, his pale golden scales catching the sunlight beautifully.

“My name is Killian, Killian MacDuff.” Killian said proudly, his gunmetal eyes glinting as the light that was reflected off the dragon hit his face.

“MacDuff….” The dragon said thoughtfully, his golden eye narrowing as he inspected the boy.

“Aye.”

“I knew a MacDuff once” he said a bit wistfully, his eyes glazing over as he recalled the MacDuff he once knew.

“It’s a common name…” Killian said a bit awkwardly.

“Is it now? It’s been so long since I dabbled in the human world.” The dragon mused, turning his head and lowering it to better inspect the boy.

“That’s the truth, may I ask for your name?” Killian inquired, still standing tall in the creature’s presence,

“My name is Gyo, this is my mate Emriss and our fledgling Loto.” The dragon said nodding his head in the direction of the two dragons.

“This is my fellow seeker, Frankie Findlay.” Killian said, extending his arm to the redhead who nodded her head in greeting.

“Pleased to meet you, come in, come in!” Gyo’s mood almost did a full three sixty as he lifted one of his thick clawed feet to gesture for the pair to enter the cavern fully. He turned and padded back over to Emriss and Loto who were still sitting to the left in a makeshift nest.

“Pleased to meet you.” Emriss said, leaning forward, her brown eyes soft and filled with kindness.

“Likewise.” Frankie smiled, not sure what else to do, she extended her hand. Emriss seemed taken aback for a moment before shuffling to extend her clawed foot, tenderly she placed her claw in Frankie’s palm. The girl’s breath faltered as the beast slowly shook her hand.

“How sweet, it’s been so very long since I’ve seen a seeker.” She mused as she withdrew her claw and tucked it under her chest. Loto covered her face with her wings, which Frankie noticed had holes riddled through the thin skin.

“Do you mind me asking what-”

“Those damn Scouts shot her down.” Gyo’s voice interrupted Frankie before she could even finish her question.

“I should’ve known.” Killian snarled, matching Gyo’s frustration.

“We have a healer in our village, if you would let us help her.” Frankie offered, the small fledgling peeked out from under her wing and looked hopefully up at her father.

“No, it’s much too far. We will stay here until she is healed.” Gyo said, his jaw clenching as he thought of the options that were before him.

“Gyo...We’ve been grounded for nearly a month now. And poor Loto’s in a whole world of pain. This is our chance.” Emriss said reasonably, her brown eyes wide and almost pleading towards her mate who’s own eyes seemed to melt under her gaze.

“I suppose… that it has been a while.” Gyo grumbled, as he lifted his large head to stare up at the open ceiling.

“And your spell… certainly you can’t hold it much longer.” Emriss continued, her silky voice made Frankie ease, she stood up as well and brushed her horns against her mate’s, who also relaxed with her touch.

“You’re right, it’s been more taxing than I anticipated, holding the spell for this long.” Gyo admitted as he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. Frankie looked at Killian, who was looking up at the pair with wide eyes.

“We can make it, if one of you could carry Loto then we could make the trip back in maybe a day or two.” Frankie said hopefully as she watched the pair break apart.

“True, we could. But how do we know we can trust you?” Gyo grumbled, his ears flicked impatiently as Killian and Frankie both hesitated to answer.

“Become our partners! If we can handle the powers that you give us, you’ll know that we’re worthy. If not then…” Frankie said, her confidence surprisingly holding throughout the statement.

“You’ll die.” Gyo growled, his eyes sparking with intrigue at the small challenge presented before him.

“That’s correct.” She agreed, nodding her head curtly as she examined Emriss’ reaction as well as Gyo’s.

“Very well then, I’ll take the boy, Emriss you can have the girl.” Gyo’s voice rumbled in his chest as he shifted and lowered his head, bringing his nose level to Killian who hesitated to reach out. Nothing could prepare him for what he experienced when he touched the golden creature’s nose. A hot gust of dry air nearly knocked him clean off his feet, the heat burned his skin and made his lips feel chapped. The heat swirled in his chest and for a moment he was sure that it would cause his chest cavity to explode. He felt as though he’d been transported to the desert, sand stinging his cheeks and the sun beating down on his strawberry blonde head. But to his surprise when he opened his eyes he was still standing in the cavern.

“Hm now that’s surprising. Normally I don’t match well with scrawny kids.” Gyo huffed, a brazen bout of laughter falling from his jaws. Killian let out a shaky breath of relief as he fell to his knees. Frankie watched with wide eyes as he closed his eyes tightly and fell onto his side.

“Is that...normal?” she asked anxiously as he rocked back and forth.

“More or less. The more compatible the seeker and dragon the less painful the transferal will be.” Emriss answered, standing and walking over to Frankie who swallowed her nerves.

“Alright then…” Frankie relented as Emriss stooped to her level and jutted her nose out for Frankie to touch. When Frankie’s hand came in contact with the warm scales, she felt no pain. But she felt a surge of warmth course through her veins, the scent of wildflowers, damp leaves, campfires, and fresh air graced her senses. Frankie gasped, keeping her hand on the dragoness who chuckled.

“You’re a hunter then?” Emriss inquired as she pulled away, Frankie swayed on her feet as she looked up at the dragoness in awe.

“Aye, that’s correct.” Frankie said, still shaken from her experience. She felt no different really, just more aware of her surroundings, everything seemed to smell stronger, all her senses amplified and perfectly tuned.

“I feel like I’m going to be sick.” Killian moaned as he managed to climb to his feet and lean heavily on Frankie.

“That is normal, we’ll take the rest of the afternoon to rest before we depart.” Gyo declared, turning on his heel and wandering over to a rocky outcrop, where he leapt up and laid down, curling his tail around his massive body.

“Congratulations young heroes. I hope that our partnership will be long and prosperous.” Emriss congratulated as she dipped her head, a small smile gracing her narrow features.

“Thank you.” Frankie bowed before leading Killian to the pool to freshen up. Killian pulled his palms through the deep blue water. Looking a bit queasy as he washed his face off.

“I’m not feeling so good.” He said before pressing his body weight on the mossy stones. He heaved over, throwing up all the rabbit he had eaten before. Frankie took the small piece of fabric that had been holding her hair up and put into his. Tying his strawberry blonde locks behind his head as he continued to get sick. Frankie sighed sitting next to the young boy. She had felt light headed but was definitely in better shape than the tewn who was now lying on the floor.

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vulpinefrost · 3 years

Text

Valkyr is from a wandering, seafaring tribe that would travel the world, frequently sailing across the oceans and from continent to continent. Never would their Tribe set camp in one place for longer than a year, rarely ever settling for more than a full Season even beyond Winter. They would settle a camp site in the late Fall season, prepare for Winter, and stay until after well into the next Spring to gather resources to set sail again.

She grew up like any other child in her tribe, learning to do anything, hunting, fishing, crafting clothing, tools or housing, cooking, sailing, and defending themselves and the Tribe. Every child in the tribe would be able to contribute to the whole, and sustain their futures whatever passions they find they excel at. Some would be bestowed Visions ones of all different elements, but none would be treated specially because of it.

Any elders with Visions would teach the young with their own in how to wield them, yes, but the possession of a Vision would not grant any boon within the Tribe. All would have a fair, equal chance to take titles like Herbalist, Shaman, Hunt Master, or Chieftain within the Tribe’s structure, as many factors were always at play beyond things that Visions can aid in. The last three Chieftans, the prior Hunt Master, and the current Shaman of the tribe all being members without Visions themselves.

Valkyr was partaking in a Hunt with her Uncle, the prior Hunt Master, when she acquired her Vision. Chasing their prey, a large Stag, she was separated from her Uncle, being the faster of the two of them, and chased the Stag to a chasm. The animal, turning to face her, abruptly dashed to the side and around her, just a little too fast for her, and her Uncle jumped from the foliage to tackle the Stag to the ground. Though the ground below, not only sloped but slick from rain the couple days prior, lead to the two sliding. Moving to stop them, Valkyr’s leg slipped from under her, and the three were headed to the chasm edge.

Turning over, Valkyr dug her heels into the wet ground to try and slow them down before they could go over. Managing to slow enough that, though she went over, her Uncle and the Stag they had been Hunting didn’t go past the ledge. Quick thinking, Valkyr had turned and grabbed at a rock that stuck out from the cliff face rather quickly, but she had already gone down too far for her Uncle to reach once he killed the Stag and went to check on her. Looking down the wall she hung on, she could see enough footholds to climb her way down to the bottom, but not enough to try and climb back up.

After a brief conversation with her Uncle to go over her plan, Valkyr began working down to the bottom while the Hunt Master took their prize back to the camp and gathered others to help with meeting her later along the chasm path. Meanwhile, Valkyr began north through the chasm on her own, a Bearded axe in hand, and the rest of her supplies in a sack on her back. A long few hours of traveling with nothing but the rock walls to her left and right, some smaller critters, and a small stream that began from a small hole in the eastern wall some ways from where she started. A stream which she followed, hoping it would lead to a way out from the chasm given how it flowed.

Some while later, she did find herself exiting the chasm, but entering into a cave system instead. A large, wide open chamber of eroded rock and the small stream joining into a pond a ways in that fed into a river that went deeper. Though scanning her surroundings, she could see another pathway which looked like it ascended. Before she could begin down the path, however, a rock she was walking past shifted and began to rise. A Geovishap, not fully grown, but not a youngling either, and it wasn’t happy once it saw her, an invader within it’s home.

Raising her axe, she readied herself to fend it off, at least attempt to harm it in some crippling manner that would allow her to slip by and into the ascending pathway. Without a shield, it wasn’t a good idea to fight this creature head-on, though she had seen elders of her Tribe do so in the past. Though when the creature came charging at her, she had to try and stop it by catching the arms it swung to scratch at her. Grabbing the first, and cutting the blade of her Axe into the second, but with it’s much greater strength the Geovishap began pushing her back. The pond behind her, she had to get out of this grapple before losing her footing, as the moment she did she’d be vulnerable to the creature.

Planting her feet slowed them, but it didn’t stop them, allowing her more time to think and plan her move. Quickly shifting, Valkyr angled herself and twisted to get herself under the arm she has hooked by her Axe and out of the beasts way, twisting it’s arm in the Axe’s hold in the process. The Geovishap shrieking out in pain quickly moved to swipe at her with the freed arm, catching Valkyr’s side with two of it’s claws, making her let go of her weapon which sat lodged in it’s arm.

Angered, the creature punched at the ground between itself and Valkyr as she stumbled away, sending forth a wave of stone pillars. Still in motion, the Tribal girl used her momentum to dash out of the way of the first, but the two that followed were in quick succession, and placed just right that she couldn’t avoid both of them. Getting caught in the leg by one while trying to weave between the two. The hit making her leg twist , leaving her unable to stand and move properly, having to limp and unable to set too much weight on the leg. The Geovishap charging at her upon noticing her crippled state, which she readies for with bringing her arms up before herself in a defensive form, which then became one to cover her eyes with a brilliant flash of amber light disrupting the situation.

Once the light faded, Valkyr could see an amber stone afloat in the air before her, surrounded by a glowing, transparent humanoid form dressed in luxurious furs, and equipped with a shield and axe. The Geovishap striking time and again at the shield, while the figure’s head turns, and looks back to the girl with glowing eyes, and a warm smile. Speaking in a deep, booming voice, it tells her to take the stone before focusing again on the beast before them.

Reaching for the gemstone, it floats down to Valkyr’s palm, and she watches an emblem take form within. Feels herself fill with energy, and her nerves steel themselves to calm. Feeling her pain subside and her leg capable of supporting her weight again. Shaken form firming and holding strong once more, like she was part of the earth beneath her feet. Unmovable and unbreakable.

Closing her eyes and breathing deeply once over, before they open and she sees the first ethereal form joined by another, this one standing a few feet beyond the Geovishap, and readying a bow. Letting an arrow loose to stick into the creature’s back, making it cry out in pain and turn it’s attention. Only opening itself up for the first of the figures to swing it’s axe at the beast, severing the arm which had the girl’s axe stuck in it. Kicking the limb backward to her, she picks it up by the handle of her weapon, pulling the arm off it’s blade once she had a firm grip.

Still with a slight limp, and a brief groan, she steps around beside the ethereal figure which protected her, looking between it and the other that had joined them. The two nodding to her, she nods back, and the first steps forward to slam the Geovishap’s head with the edge of their shield. The impact sending the creature recoiling with a shriek, stumbling back, where Valkyr rushes forward on her weakened leg and slashes at the beast’s neck, though missing it’s front as it turned and catching the side instead. As if seeing her intent, however, the figure with bow in hand quickly adjusted and shot at the creature’s shoulder, making it spin back to face the girl, who immediately brought her axe across her body, and slashed through the front half of the throat.

Swiftly, the first of the ethereal figures steps forth, swinging their own weapon at the back of the beast’s neck, severing it’s head from it’s body entirely. The thump of it’s heavy body followed by the head plopping down onto the ground, and like a cue, the two ethereal forms scatter into particles of light. Hovering, slowly falling in their places, before all rushing to the stone Valkyr held in her off-hand in a tight grip like her life depended on it. Before, in a sudden surge of exhaustion, she finds herself falling back onto her butt on the cold stone floor.

Breathing heavily as she tries to collect herself, and lifting the gemstone in her hand to look it over carefully. A few minutes passing as she recovers, before she hears foot falls approaching from the path she had spotted earlier, and hears her Uncle’s voice calling her name. Beginning to laugh some to herself before she calls back to her Uncle while she lets herself lay on her back. Holding up the gemstone for her Uncle to see, as he and two others of the Tribe come around and into the chamber.

Once back in their camp, Valkyr had it confirmed that the stone she now possessed was a Vision, one of Geo, one of her own. One which, thanks to it’s power, and her connection to her Tribe’s past, could draw on the strength of her ancestors to aid her. Often finding herself to even be able to call upon certain individuals, and able to converse with them to learn about their lives, an how the Tribe was in their time. To hear of their experiences and learn from them through invaluable stories that others had long forgotten.

Throughout the years that followed, Valkyr kept training herself, both normally and with her Vision, honing her body, and her skill with the Geo powers granted to her. Becoming one of the strongest warriors and hunters of the Tribe, and the best versed in their Tribe’s past due to all the exchanges she’s shared with ancestors. Finding that different locations provided different groups from their Tribe’s past, as her Vision seemed to draw on the energy of the land itself, calling upon the essence of those who were laid to rest nearby.

However, when the time came that the Electro Archon of Inazuma declared the Vision Hunt Decree, her Tribe was settled nearby the kingdom at the time. It’s naval ships taking to the oceans to lock-down travel to or from the continent, they couldn’t risk migrating to another location as a whole. Sending out a chosen few on smaller, individual boats to venture out and try to understand the world, what events were beginning to unfold that lead to this sudden shift in the Bakufu’s rule that left their camp, their Tribe, at risk of drawing the wrath of the Archon.

Valkyr was one of the chosen few, coming to land on Tevyat’s shores east of Monstadt. Having departed from her Tribe a short while before, with a gift from her Father in the form of a radiant Claymore, and blessings for safe travels from the Tribe’s Shaman.

#Tribal {Valkyr}#Genshin Impact OC #Set in Ice and Stone {Headcanons}

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rohad93 · 4 years

Text

Sea Glass: Chapter 15

18+

At sun up St.Lucia had come into view on the horizon and Yellow was more relieved then she could describe. She was ready to be back on her own ship, but more importantly she was ready to be off The Menagerie.

She had sat out on the deck the entire night. She didn't trust any of the members of The Menagerie outside of Blue and Rose not to stab her in her sleep… that and there was the precarious situation she found herself in with BLue at the moment.

They had not spoken nor shared a glance since their encounter the previous night. She couldn’t look at her and she didn’t know what to say after she had run away from her last night.

Yellow leaned against the railing of the ship, arms crossed over her chest, glaring at the ever slowly approaching island port and stewing. She was mad at herself.

Mad at herself for being an idiot and a coward; for running away from Blue.

She hissed through her teeth at herself and turned to look at her feet, eyes narrowed, her wrist was throbbing this morning.

She sighed heavily and looked up, watching the crew go about their daily chores of swabbing the deck and tightening the rigging.

The captain’s cabin door swung open and Blue came strutting out. She evidently changed clothes and brushed out her hair, it hung loose across her back and shoulders, a few braids scattered among the straight strands. She looked fresh and clean again for the first time in weeks and Yellow couldn’t help but watch her, despite the knot of shame and embarrassment that taken up a semi-permanent home in the pit of her stomach.

Blue glanced around and for a brief moment their eyes locked, but the look in those cerulean depths made Yellow turn away, eyes going back out to the ever approaching island, jaw clenched tight and shoulders bunched up around her ears.

She didn’t look up again but she heard Blue move away, unable to look up at her face again.

How quickly it seemed she could turn something that was already a mess into one of even greater proportions.

She could only assume that Blue was less than pleased with her, she knew she would be were their places reversed.

Her whole body tensed, fists clenched as she kept her arms crossed, drawn tight up against her.

She wanted to talk to her, to try and explain what had happened last night but she had no real explanation for it herself. She hadn’t had enough time to think about it.

It was just too much too quickly for her.

Yellow couldn’t remember the last time she had been so physically enthralled by someone as she was with Blue, probably because she never had before.

Blue had a special talent for getting under her skin, both in the irritating sense and the… less irritating sense....

She was exceptional at setting fire to every nerve ending in the blonde’s body and causing her mind to phase in and out of coherent thought whenever it suited her to do so.

Yellow scowled to herself. That was one part of the problem though.

Yellow hated not being in control of herself and Blue excelled at making her brain turn into goo, for relatively short periods of time but that was much too long for Yellow. She felt like a fool standing in front of Blue, something else that irked her incredibly.

What’s more she was sure Blue did not understand that Yellow had absolutely zero experience to draw from for this particular facet of life.

After joining her first crew she had completely spurned all emotions like that, all they had done was get her branded and chained, she actively spent the majority of her adult life repressing them, they had never served any practical purpose to her.

So last night, with everything finally laid bare between them, Blue’s hands sliding through her hair and the high pitched call of her name in a voice that set fire to the blonde’s skin without any effort, it had all been too much.

Like an errant spark from a fire into a barn hayloft.

Blue set her on fire. Everything was a smokey haze and the fire spread so quickly she wasn’t sure where to focus on first and instead panicked and ran.

She scowled angrily to herself. So many emotions that she wasn’t used to all vying to be at the forefront of her mind and Blue’s fingers on her scalp and hot breath in her ear had just caused a complete and total shutdown.

Blue brought out a plethora of emotions in her and she’d had all night to evaluate them more closely, one by one rather than all of them in the span of a few seconds.

It was hard for her to put an exact name on it, considering their previous relationship and years as… less than friendly acquaintances. She wouldn’t say enemy because all her enemies were at the bottom of the sea by now, but her feelings for Blue were there, a complicated and unnameable mish-mash of annoyance, attraction and fondness that she couldn’t describe, but they could at least all be summarized quite easily.

She wanted Blue, in a multitude of ways.

But had been too panicked to capitalize on the opportunity when it had finally, truthfully, represented itself to her last night. Blue practically offered herself to her, only for her to turn and run the minute it happened.

Now she didn’t know what she could even begin to say to make this right with Blue, or even that she should try.

She would not beg, she had made a mistake but maybe Blue was past the point of forgiving her and she had her pride, it would not allow her to bend a knee to Blue and beg for a second chance.

No, she had made her bed, now she would have to lie in it.

No matter how much she hated it.

~ ~ ~

When the ship pulled into port the crew went about their duties of tying things down and dropping anchor. Though Yellow could tell just by watching them that they didn't plan on staying very long, just long enough to drop her off.

Luckily, at the other end of the docks she could see it.

The Cluster

It looked just the same as the last time she had seen it, for which he was glad, because a small part of her did worry that the crew fighting amongst themselves may have destroyed it.

The gangplank was lowered and Yellow looked up as Rose approached her, Blue stayed where she was on the other side of the ship, arms crossed over her chest and watching. The look on her face was one Yellow could only describe as hurt.

The younger woman looked rather nervous and twitchy as she stopped just a few feet from Yellow.

“You better hurry off,” she finally said, nodding to the plank, making Yellow blink. Rose glanced over her shoulder and Yellow understood.

Blue wanted her gone, and quickly.

She didn’t blame her at all. She couldn’t stand to have Blue looking at her like that another moment. It dug painfully at something in her chest.

With a jerk of a nod she turned on her heel and started off, pausing just a moment, to look back at Rose, who still looked more than a little pensive, words on the tip of her tongue.

‘Tell her I’m sorry.’

That’s what she wanted to say, but she didn’t, she couldn’t

She swallowed them, even as they threatened to stick in her throat and carried on down the plank, it took effort not to look over her shoulder, but she didn’t and instead made a beeline straight for The Cluster.

The plank was down and Yellow hurried up it. She was quickly noticed and the same shouts that had echoed on Blue’s ship now filled the deck of The Cluster as the crew noticed the blonde appear on deck almost immediately.

“Captain!”

“Your back?”

“You’re alive!?”

When all the yammering pirates gathered around her had calmed down enough to let her talk she explained where she had been to them, though the heavily edited version. There are some things her crew, nor anyone else, ever need to know about her chained adventure on the sea.

Jasper is exceptionally glad to see her and once things settle they ask her where they’re headed next and Yellow smirks to herself.

She had a debt to repay.

But a few things had to be taken care of first.

Her jacket was practically in tatters, as was her shirt. Her gun and saber had been taken away and her hat had vanished.

A trip to the markets was the first order of business.

~ ~ ~

With a bath, change in wardrobe and armed again, Yellow felt far better, despite the gnawing in her stomach that appeared whenever she thought of Blue, but that was something to examine later. She had another matter to attend to at present.

Yellow walked through the woods with Jasper and Joe on either side of her as they approached the farm house.

The barn door swung open and Greg appeared, a sack of grain slung over one shoulder as he muttered curses under his breath.

He swung around to face them and jumped, the bag falling off his shoulder as he stared at the three with wide eyes, his jaw ajar as dark eyes flickered between the three of them.

“Y-you!” Greg finally seemed to get a handle on himself as he pointed at Yellow.

“I have an offer for you, Greg.” The blonde started without preamble.

“Offer?” He blinked.

“You want to sail, don't you? Well I happen to find myself in need of a new cabin boy on my ship.”

“Cabin boy?” he repeated dumbly and Yellow rolled her eyes

“Yes. Do you want it or not?” She crossed her arms over her chest as she looked down at the shorter young man.

“I do!” He jumped. “I… don’t even know who you are…” he trailed off. Yellow had forgotten about that little bit.

“Are you daft?” Her first mate couldn’t contain herself any longer. “This is Captain Marigold Faust!” Jasper snarled out and Greg’s face stayed frozen in a look of confusion before slowly morphing into one of disbelief and awe.

“You’re the infamous pirate, Yellow Diamond!” He squawked, hands slapping the sides of his face.

“Yes, and you did Blue and myself a service and I’m not in the habit of leaving my debts unpaid. Do you want to sail under me, or not?” She narrowed her eyes at him. She had spent enough time on land lately and she was quite eager to be back on her ship, away from here and so she could finally sleep for the next two days.

“I…” Greg trailed off, glancing between the pirates and then back to the farmhouse on the other side of the property.

His still hanging open mouth shut with a click.

“Yes” He nodded.

As they were walking back to the row boat out on the shore so they could return to the ship Greg had a certain thought.

“Wait… did you say Blue… like, Blue Diamond?!” He yelped remembering the sickly woman he had poured medicine down.

Yellow’s shoulders bunched up around her neck at the name being shouted out loud and her jaw clenched.

“Yes…” She managed to bite out. The two other large sailors at her side seemed to know better as they glanced at each other but said nothing while they followed their captain.

“That was Blue Diamond! Wow… even sick as a dog she was still just as beautiful as they say.” He said more to himself but stopped when the loud growling sound came out of the blonde. Greg looked at the tall womens black coated back. She didn’t turn around but Greg could practically feel those scary amber eyes on him and quickly shut his mouth.

“Let me offer you some advice.” The large, bald sailor had slowed down to walk beside Greg. “Don’t talk about ‘Ol Blue when the Cap’n is around,” he said quietly. Greg nodded dumbly, watching the blondes back, face scrunched up in confusion.

Once they were back on the ship Yellow made a beeline for her quarters with orders for Joe to show Greg the ropes and to set sail. Some merchant ships would be moving through the waters just north of them and they could use an easy job.

Once the door was shut behind her she hung up her hat and coat and flopped gracelessly onto the bed with a frustrated sigh.

Seemed no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t totally push away her thoughts of Blue. She’d been managing all day because her crew knew better than to mention that name in her presence but now the thought was stuck at the forefront in her mind.

She slung an arm over her eyes and sighed wearily.

#bellow diamond #blue diamond #yellow diamond #pink diamond #Steven Universe #AU #fanfic #Pirate AU #pirate

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imthepointe · 4 years

Text

The One That Got Away

@penofwildfire whoops...hehe :)

this is entirely based on their lovely and angsty post here!

Lloyd shot up from his makeshift bed, forehead dotted with sweat and eyes rimmed red with tears. His heart so beat loudly in his chest he was sure the thumping could be heard from a mile away.

At once, a steadying hand held his back, murmuring soothing utterances that he did not care to listen to. Harumi’s words from a week prior rang in his ear, the image of the Bounty- along with his brothers- being ripped apart still burned into his mind every time he shut his eyes.

For the past few nights, sleep had not provided any sort of escape or remedy for the past week’s events- rather proving to be an oblivion and open invitation to nightmare.

Nya seemed to have taken notice, much to the despondency of a certain green ninja.

She stood above Lloyd’s pallet, her hand still on his back rubbing small circles and her voice still cooing words of comfort.

Once he had calmed down a bit, Nya quirked an eyebrow. “Nightmare?”

Lloyd held his head in his hands. “Yeah.”

“Tell me about it?” she asked, sitting herself down beside him.

---

“I wanted this,” the Jade Princess had said, as she dangled Lloyd hopelessly over the once-bright Ninjago City. She giggled maniacally, her eyes wild and glued to the Colossus a few blocks down the street with fierce intensity.

“I wanted this!” she screamed in the green ninja’s ear. Her smile stretched from cheek to cheek, whatever semblance of sound mind she had left fading before Lloyd’s helpless form.

He was pathetic; he couldn’t do anything in Harumi’s grasp. The green ninja, once highly esteemed and venerated by citizens of Ninjago, was about to watch his friends die at the hands of some sadistic teenage girl and his father.

As much as the sane voices in Lloyd’s mind told him to turn his face away, he couldn’t peel his gaze from the ship in between the stone giant’s arms- the one his brothers were in- being crushed before him.

Harumi dug her fingers into the back of Lloyd’s neck, before pulling him back down to the train’s roof. “Now watch,” she breathed in his ear, a sweet and bitter edge to her cutting voice.

As if on command, the Bounty was crushed to a pulp.

Lloyd did nothing but watch in disbelief. His teammates were still on that ship. They were still on there, they must have been crushed too-

The Jade Princess jerked his head away from the fallen airship. “It’s too bad you were the one that got away,” she clicked her tongue, twisting her mouth into a grin. “I guess that just means I get to personally deal with you later.”

---

“Oh, it was nothing,” Lloyd reassured Nya with a sad smile. The same steadying hand from earlier once again patted his back, and though he was grateful for her presence- don’t get him wrong- something still was missing.

To be precise, 3 teenage boys, a nindroid, and a 500-year-old sensei turned infant were missing.

“I don’t believe you, Lloyd,” the water ninja deadpanned. “It’s okay, you can tell me what’s up.”

Lloyd fidgeted with his hands and looked around the room. It was completely empty, save for Pixal and her mech off to the side; his mother and Dareth presumably off somewhere in the city. He sighed, turning back to look at the last remaining ninja left on the team.

“It’s just that we lost them, Nya-”

“Lloyd.”

Upon hearing Nya’s grave tone, Lloyd flinched. Her hands were now bracing his shoulders, and she stared into his eyes; such firmness was not really out of the ordinary for the water ninja, but she usually never took this attitude with him. “We didn’t lose anyone,” she frowned, “my friends- our friends- they are fine.”

“How can you be so sure?” Lloyd interjected. He wanted to believe Nya, he really, really did.

But he couldn’t. He had watched them...

Nya continued to hold Lloyd’s arms, and he couldn’t help but remember the way Harumi’s own hands had held him in place just a week prior. As chill ran down his spine, where he could still feel the Quiet One’s fingers wrapped around his neck.

The green ninja spoke up again, more softly this time. “I saw them, Nya. I saw the Bounty get crushed to pieces. I saw them die.”

Nya bit her lip, visibly tensing. She closed her eyes and whispered a small “I know” before wrapping her arms around the last remainder of her former team.

“I lost people, too, Lloyd,” she muttered into his hair. “But they’re not dead.”

Doubt crept its way into his mind, and subconsciously he thought Nya knew how irrational she was being.

Perhaps more so how irrational he was for believing her. For a split second, he hugged the water ninja back, and accepted the fact that maybe his friends weren’t dead, and that they would come out of hiding soon enough, and Harumi and his father would be defeated, and Ninjago would be saved. That’s how things normally ended, right?

Just as soon as the moment of belief came, it too passed.

His mother and Dareth burst into the room, both Nya and Lloyd startled from their thoughts.

Misako’s face furrowed into an expression somewhere between scared and confused, and Dareth looked like he always did- mostly confused- and out of breath.

“We have to go,” his mother’s voice faltered slightly in a way that made Lloyd’s stomach turn. “The Sons of Garmadon are sweeping the block.”

---

The narrow alleyway the group of five were now hiding in was familiar to the green ninja in a very distant sense- something only Lloyd could liken to vague deja vu, or the moments of disorientation after waking up from a realistic dream.

He held his breath as Mr. E and the rest of the gang passed their hiding spots, with Nya beside him, Pixal and his mother adjacent, and Dareth...somewhere.

Only once the Sons of Garmadon were certainly out of range did anyone dare make a noise. “Thank FSM,” Nya breathed, pushing the piece of wood the pair had been hiding under out of the way.

Beside them, Pixal and Misako did the same, and the self-proclaimed brown ninja emerged from wherever he had been.

Misako laughed in relief, dusting herself off as she stood. “Do you all smell that?” she asked, trying to clear the air. She turned to her son, who still sat on the ground. “Lloyd, doesn’t it smell-”

Lloyd clutched the piece of wood Nya had previously shoved aside. “It’s the Bounty.”

---

The Colossus’ hands closed in on The Bounty, the sound of splicing wood and crushed memories ringing in Zane, Kai, Jay, and Cole’s ears. The stone giant was quickly compressing the ship to a pulp, and with each rattling shake the ninja stumbled closer to one another on the broken deck.

Wu clutched Cole’s gi and squeezed his eyes shut, burying his head in the earth ninja’s chest and whimpering softly. In turn, Cole hugged him tighter, shielding him from their imminent demise.

“Zane!” Kai stared at the nindroid at the wheel, an unreadable and blank look on his face. “Do something,” he pleaded, before desperately adding, “please.”

Zane sputtered. “I- I cannot-” He wanted to say that he couldn’t save them, but he supposed the rest of his teammates had already figured that out by now.

Jay looked at Cole, the baby in his arms, then to Zane, then to Kai. The wind whipped wildly around the team and the distant sound of sirens blazed in the background, though almost entirely erased by the screams of onlookers and the clamor of their precious Bounty being torn apart underneath their feet.

But between the team on the ship, it was silent.

Time moved in slow motion as the Colossus’ hands began to meet, and each ninja glanced at one another other with a small smile on their face and a look that said ‘Thank you for the past few years.’

Cole relaxed in acceptance, though the small figure in his arms began to squirm. “We have to go!” Baby Wu shouted.

The tea. Mystake.

Jay’s eyes widened in realization as he registered Wu’s words, and then the fact that it was too late to do anything about it.

---

Nya felt her chest tear apart.

The Bounty.

She said nothing as moved a few pieces of wood aside, revealing a broken picture frame that belonged on the ship. Pixal looked around- two engines, an anchor, a sail, a rudder- her home- and it was all right here, lying strewn about before them.

Lloyd sucked in a breath. “No, no, no, no, no…”

He knew this day would come, when he would find the ship he had watched just a week ago be completely obliterated, when he would see the remnants of his home somewhere in Ninjago City. He remained on the ground still, desperately searching through the wreckage for more fragments of the ship.

Lloyd froze when he grabbed something cold, and panic and awareness quickly set in.

His body began to jerk and tears began to spill freely from his eyes, because he knew what he had found. Still, he couldn’t stop himself as he brushed the wood away, revealing exactly what Lloyd had hoped he would never find.

Kai. Buried underneath the rubble of the Bounty was Kai- but it wasn’t. This wasn’t Kai. It was his corpse.

A scream caught in his throat, rendering him unable to comfort the master of water as she realized what Lloyd had found.

Beside him, Nya began to breath faster and faster, stumbling in her legs until Misako had to help her slide to a sitting position.

“No,” she sniffled and shook her head, “he’s okay. There must be a pulse, there has to be, they’re all alive.”

Nothing about Kai was alive, and Nya knew that. Lloyd knew that, too, but that didn’t mean he accepted it.

“Here,” Pixal called, small tears rolling down her face. She held a broken and battered nindroid in her arms, with dark and deactivated eyes and stray wires indicating no sign of life.

Neither Lloyd nor Nya moved as Jay, Zane, and Kai’s bodies were all recovered from the ruins; the two simply sat in the same crouched position beside each other in disbelief.

Had it not been Nya telling Lloyd just that morning that they were alright? That his brothers were just hiding?

He had watched them die.

A few more moments of waiting and Pixal had found the final two bodies. Quietly, Nya helped Lloyd to his feet, and they stepped over broken wood and their own teammates’ corpses to where Pixal was trembling slightly.

Cole, skin cold and gray, body covered in blood, was finally found lying underneath a large pile of wreckage. Still in his arms, despite being crushed then falling hundreds of feet to the ground, was a small figure, its fingers still curled tightly around the earth ninja’s body.

A baby that had died in Cole’s arms.

Their sensei.

A harsh, half-stifled yell sounded in the ash gray sky- undoubtedly alerting Mr. E along with the rest of his crew of their location- but Lloyd did not care.

He didn’t care when Nya broke down into sobs beside him, when Dareth and Misako too began to cry, or when Pixal fell to the ground on her knees, unable to stop herself from shaking.

He didn’t care when a smiling Harumi found him not fifteen minutes later, still clinging to each of their bodies.

#ninjago #tw #tw death #tw panic attack #tw blood #corpses #uh anyways lego ninja amirite #lloyd #nya #hunted #claire writes

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lilfellasblog · 4 years

Text

Anniversary Fluff

Summary: This is pure, tooth-rotting fluff that's placed within the Healing Broken Wings universe but can be read as a standalone fluff fic! I put this together to mark the 1-year anniversary of Healing Broken Wings being posted. I also learned literally TODAY that HBW and Thomas posting on Vine for the first time share the same anniversary date?!

This fic was directed by a fictive introject (an alter in a Dissociative Identity Disorder system that is based on a fictional character in the outer world). Specifically, this fictive introject is Virgil from Healing Broken Wings. I hope you love this sweetie. <3

There are no warnings. There is no angst. This is pure fluff. I know, I can't believe it either. But it's true!

A/N: If you liked this, please reblog. It is the only way to help this fic reach a wider audience.

TW: None whatsoever.

Word Count: 2131

AO3 here!

Fic Masterlist here!

Virgil groaned as he woke to the sound of a loud bird that decided it needed to scream at the sun directly outside his window specifically. He swore upon looking at his alarm clock, which read Sat. 8:48 AM.

Only Logan gets up this early on a weekend. Virgil smiled to himself as an image of Logan’s sharp face entered his mind. The promise of getting to see his cute boyfriends was enough motivation to roll out of bed and expose his eyes to dreaded sunlight. He tamed his hair just enough to be presentable and threw on some black eyeshadow just below his eyes, then threw on his usual outfit, taking a moment to appreciate the soft weight of his hoodie. He balled a little of it up in each hand and pulled it around himself lightly, allowing himself the small indulgence.

Finally, he ventured out into the kitchen. Patton was making griddled pancakes with a frittata and bacon, Logan was sipping on coffee while reading the newspaper, and Roman was setting the table.

Roman saw Virgil first and beamed. “My lovely raven!! You look simply ravishing today!”

Virgil felt his cheeks get splotchy. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“I know!”

Virgil snorted and hugged Roman, who hugged back firmly.

“Breaky is ready!!”

Roman and Virgil pulled apart and went to their chairs. Virgil raised an eyebrow at Logan, who had a soft smile on his face.

“Apologies Virgil. I simply agree with Roman.”

Virgil booped Logan’s nose with Crofter’s jam in retaliation, to which Logan just blinked widely.

Patton giggled at their antics. “Should I kiss it better Lolo?”

Logan met Patton’s gaze evenly. “I would not be opposed.”

Patton kissed Logan for a few moments before returning to serving breakfast. He wiped at his nose and laughed.

“Looks like we both got jam on our noses! I wonder how that happened?”

“I have a hypothesis.”

Virgil smiled at his boyfriends’ antics before he dug into his meal. Roman was gesturing widely, talking about how Thomas would be going to a Broadway play later that night and had all the lyrics memorized, so why wouldn't he sing along with the cast and crew? Virgil had to hide his smile in his food while Logan listed off the many reasons that would be a very bad idea.

When breakfast was over, Virgil volunteered to stay behind and help clean up. As Roman was leaving the kitchen, he embraced Virgil in a side hug and kissed his cheek.

"I'll see you later, my love" Roman said lowly while Virgil blushed and Patton cooed. Virgil walked over to the sink, grinning. Patton was sending him knowing looks, which Virgil pretended not to see.

While Patton was focused on a particularly stubborn bit of burnt egg, Virgil swung his hips over and bumped the side of Patton's hips with his. Patton mischievously side-eyed Virgil and retaliated. Eventually, they were both bumping each other's hips back and forth almost constantly, giggling uncontrollably.

Virgil looked into the sink. "Have we done any dishes?"

"Nope!" Patton chirped. This made them both start giggling again.

They calmed down and went back to washing the dishes. Just as they were about to finish up, Patton bumped Virgil's hip again.

"Hey cupcake! Wanna help me make cupcakes?"

Virgil tilted his head down a bit, staring into Patton's eyes. "That sounds great, cupcake."

Patton blushed prettily and giggled, flicking some suds at Virgil. Virgil huffed and flicked them right back.

Once they wrapped up dishes and wiped down the kitchen, Patton got out the stand mixer and ingredients. Virgil raised his eyebrow at the Crofters raspberry jam.

"You'll see!" Patton sing-songed.

Virgil helped by preheating the oven, buttering the sides of the muffin tin, and putting in cupcake holders while Patton did the rest. When Virgil turned around, Patton booped his nose with chocolate cupcake batter. Virgil wrinkled his nose.

"Awwwwwww you look just like a little bunny rabbit!!" Patton squealed. Virgil laughed and wiped the batter off the tip of his nose, tasting it.

"It tastes really good already Pat."

"Thanks cupcake!"

"...are you going to call me that all day?"

"Do you mind?"

A sigh. "Nooo…"

Patton put the cupcakes in the oven, set a timer, and turned back to Virgil.

"Whaddya wanna do while these bake?"

Virgil shifted. "Hmmmmm…"

"Want a hug?"

Virgil nodded gratefully and was pulled into a gentle, loving hug. Patton's warmth enveloped him, and he could smell both chocolate and vanilla. Patton swayed them back and forth gently, and Virgil had to hide his eyes in Patton's shoulder, feeling all of his love for the sweet man bubbling up in his chest.

Patton gently pulled away. "There you go. Wanna go cuddle?" he asked quietly.

Virgil nodded, and they headed to the couch. Patton snuggled against his chest and Virgil nuzzled his hair, rumbling.

Patton giggled. "My little kitty cat!"

Virgil just smiled. "All yours."

The two men soaked up each other's presence, floating on a cloud of happiness and comfort. Virgil breathed in vanilla, while Patton inhaled lavender. They both jumped when the timer for the cupcakes went off.

Patton took the cupcakes out of the oven and started dolloping strawberry jam and mascarpone on some shortbread cookies.

"Oh, that's not for the cupcakes?"

"No it is! I'm just making Logan a little snack! A little snack for my snack!"

Virgil groaned but chuckled. It was tax season, and that meant another large responsibility on Logan's shoulders. Virgil spied a bit of jam that had somehow made it to Patton's cheek, and kissed it off. Patton turned sparkling eyes to Virgil.

Virgil smirked. "You had some jam on your cheek."

"And you had to kiss it off, hm?"

"How could I resist?"

Patton's ears turned red as he giggled. "Mind taking this up to Logie Bear? I'm gonna try to get these cupcakes on a cooling rack."

"Sure."

When Logan opened the door, he looked frazzled and a few hairs were out of place. However, he relaxed and smiled a soft smile when he saw Virgil. He opened his mouth to speak, but when he saw the cookies with Crofters jam he let out an actual whimper.

Virgil snorted. "I'll give you two some alone time."

Logan gratefully took the cookies with a sheepish look about him. "Thank you Virgil."

"Patton made them, I'm just the messenger."

Logan's gaze turned dark. "I'll be sure to thank both of you later."

Virgil smiled shyly and ducked his head. Logan huffed in amusement.

"I'll see you later darling. Thank you again."

"Yeah, no problem."

With a last smile, Logan disappeared back into his room. Virgil made his way downstairs and walked in just as Patton was setting the last chocolate cupcake on the cooling rack.

"Need any more help? Logan really liked the cookies."

Patton beamed. "That's great!! And I think I'm okay for now! Just need to let these little fellas cool off completely and then we can start the next step!"

Virgil was intrigued, but he trusted Patton to make anything delicious. He thought back to Remy and Saul, who used to struggle with boxed mac and cheese.

"Hey Pat? You good if I go hang out with Remy and Saul for a bit?"

"Go right ahead sweetie! Just let me know if you'll be here for supper! I'm making a pork ballotine with roasted veggies and a beet and goat cheese salad!"

"I'm gonna be here for dinner."

"Awwwww you're too sweet!!" Patton said as he kissed the tip of Virgil's nose. "Go have fun with your dads!"

Virgil sent him a two-finger before he sank down. When he appeared in the Neutral Side, he found Saul and Remy throwing shredded cheese at each other. They stopped long enough to look at him before bursting into laughter.

"Sorry sugar! We are trying to cook!" Remy said through his cackling.

"...I'm so confused."

That just made the two Neutral Sides start laughing again. Virgil shook his head fondly at the two.

"What made you stop down here little one?" Sail asked, still grinning.

Virgil shrugged. "I might've missed you guys or whatever."

"Awwwwwww babes!!" Remy exclaimed as he launched himself towards Virgil. "You can always visit us whenever you want!"

Virgil stumbled but hugged Remy back. "I know, just was thinking of you today."

Remy gave him a final squeeze before letting him go. "It's time for a manicure anyways! Your nails are crying out for help."

"So are your cuticles."

"Excuse you."

Virgil snickered while Remy flicked tea water at him. Remy summoned the items needed, and all three Sides sat down at the table.

"Alright, let's get our fingers soaking." Remy poured scented water into bowls. They chatted idly for a few minutes before Remy removed his hands and started cleaning up his cuticles.

"Always put on your own oxygen mask first."

Once he was done, he worked on Saul's nails next, and finally moved into Virgil's.

"I know Saul's a basic bitch and only wants a clear coat-"

"Love you too bae."

"-but I'm assuming I raised you better?"

Virgil snorted. "Yeah, I-" he thought for a moment. "Do you have dark blue nail polish with glitter in it?"

/////

After watching trashy reality television for a few hours while being cuddled by his surrogate fathers, Virgil appeared back in the Light Side. His mouth watered when he smelled the aroma wafting in from the kitchen. He could hear giggling and kissing, so he cleared his throat loudly before entering.

Roman and Patton were both blushing and smiling.

"Did I interrupt something?" Virgil teased.

"It's okay sweetie, dinner's just about ready anyways! Just don't come in Roman's room without knocking later!"

It was Virgil's turn to blush as Patton continued. "What did you and your dads get up to?"

"Oh, we just did our nails and watched some television."

“Nails?!” Patton whispered, vibrating in his spot.

Virgil chuckled. “Come on over Pat.”

Patton bounded over and looked at Virgil’s nails in awe. “They’re so pretty!!”

Virgil’s face grew hot. “Thanks Pat.” He heard footsteps behind him.

“Indeed they are! Remy did a wonderful job!” Roman declared.

“Ooooooo Logie!! Look at Virgil’s nails!!”

Logan appraised Virgil’s nails with raised eyebrows. Logan had visible tension in his forehead, but had a small smile on his face.

“They are quite lovely, my dear.”

Virgil ducked his head. “Yeah, I know you’ve been super stressed lately and I know you like space, so…” he trailed off, unsure of how to continue his sentence, and just gestured wordlessly.

Logan understood. “That is so thoughtful Virgil,” he said somewhat thickly. “I love you.”

Virgil felt his eyes sting. “I love you too Lo.”

They were staring into each other’s eyes, heat building between them, when the timer went off, causing them both to startle.

“Sorry fellas! Veggies are done!”

Everyone sat down at the table and was drooling over the feast laid before them. Even Roman ate in silence for a few minutes before starting up the conversation. Just before everyone finished, Patton brought out chocolate cupcakes filled with raspberry jam and topped with a white chocolate and dark chocolate ganache swirl. Once they were all stuffed beyond capacity and Patton decided it wouldn’t hurt the dishes to soak overnight, Patton and Roman went up to Roman’s room.

Logan turned to Virgil and smiled. “Would you like to watch Planet Earth?”

Virgil agreed, and soon they were watching field mice do what they do best. Virgil and Logan were holding each other on the couch with a blanket thrown over their legs. Virgil was rumbling intermittently, loving the scent of Logan and loving being held against a firm yet comfortable chest. Logan’s arms around him made him feel so loved and so safe he could cry. He loved having his arms around Logan, knowing that with Logan in his arms he could protect him. And it helps that Logan’s sexy as hell too.

After a few episodes, thanks in large part to the massive meal Patton had put out, Virgil began dozing off. Logan roused him with a gentle kiss to his temple.

“Darling, we’ll feel better in the morning if we sleep in a proper bed.”

Virgil grumbled but followed Logan to the bedroom, only changing into sweatpants and leaving his t-shirt on. He crawled under the covers while he waited for Logan to finish brushing his teeth. Logan got into bed next to a very sleepy Virgil, mint on his breath. Virgil immediately reached out to hold Logan and rest his head on his nerd’s chest. He felt a puff of air on the top of his head and nuzzled against the man beneath him as he drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

#sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #fluff #lamp/calm #lamp/calm fanfic

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star-spangled-eyes · 4 years

Text

Winner Take All: Part 8: The Locker Room

This alternate universe fan fiction uses characters created and owned by Pixelberry Studios. Character names, descriptions and likenesses are owned by Pixelberry Studios. The MC, Bragnae Bennett, and story is created and owned by this author.

Book: The Royal Romance (Alternate Universe)

Alternate Universe Theme: Senior Year of College for Drake, Leo, Bragnae and Madeleine in the United States

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC / Leo Reese x MC (Bragnae Bennett – *pronounced Brawn-yah)

Warnings for this series: NSFW, Adult content, suggestive and strong language, sexual content

Series Description: Bragnae Bennett sought adventure when she first went off to college. Now, navigating through her senior year, she finds herself befriending two gorgeous guys, Drake Walker and Leo Reese, who engage in a seemingly innocent bet with her during a game of pool that leads to a surprising threesome.

Their intimate evening prompts deeper feelings than they all expected to arise, and Bragnae is suddenly swept up in both of their charms, unique to each man himself. Through the pressures of college, work and maintaining a social life, which man will prevail and win Bragnae's heart?

Master List

A/N: Another chapter that just flowed… wow. But things are starting to heat up now. I guess that’s why I can’t stop writing this! It’s too exciting for me! I hope you enjoy this one! Thanks for reading!

Warnings for this chapter: NSFW, Adult content, suggestive and strong language, sexual content

Word Count for this chapter: 4582

Setting for this chapter: Bragnae arrives at Drake’s hockey camp and gets to spend a little time heating up the ice with him.

Permatags: @burnsoslow @cora-nova @dcbbw @thorfosterlove @emceesynonymroll @edgiestwinter @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @msjr0119 @notoriouscs @drakewalker04 @pedudley @desiree-0816 @choices-lurker @kingliam2019 @loveellamae @drakexnadira @flutistbyday2020 @indiana-jr @moonlightgem7

Series Tags: @yukinagato2012 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @nomadics-stuff @ravenpuff02 @texaskitten30 @themadhatter1029 @randomfandomteacher @queenjilian @princessleac1@seriouslybadchoices

Part 8: The Locker Room

Bragnae arrived at the practice arena fifteen minutes before Drake’s practice was supposed to be over. The drive up went fast with her mind being as occupied as it was. She went over everything Leo told her again and again. It was such a shame he had to endure such heartache before, but he could have turned it around for himself. He could have made a vow not to hurt women the way he was, but for some reason, he felt using them for his needs would be the easiest way around his pain.

Even though he knew he hurt her for what he did, Leo still didn’t know the magnitude in which she suffered from his actions. She was glad she didn’t have time to tell him that earlier, and maybe he never needed to know. But, the fact remained that he hurt her very deeply and ruined his own chance at being happy again.

She turned off the engine of Drake’s truck, grabbed her purse, and headed up the sidewalk to the building. When she walked in, the cool air immediately hit her. It was a small arena, but the ice rink was designed in full regulation. There was only six rows of spectator seats that stretched the length of the rink. It was only on one side of the ice. The other side had two benched areas for the team to fill in, a Gatorade stand and a hallway leading to what Bragnae presumed was the locker room.

There was a flurry of guys fighting for the puck at the far end of the rink. Half were dressed in black jerseys, the others in neon green. The Pit Vipers’ colors were royal purple with a black and green logo of the intimating snake, so their practice jerseys reflected that theme as well.

Bragnae found a seat in the second row at center ice, scanning the bench of players. From what she could tell, none of them were Drake, which meant he had to be on the ice. She didn’t know which color he sported yet, but she did know he was a Defenseman. Somehow, protecting the goalie and helping to block shots from the opposing team fit Drake’s personality.

Finally, the puck broke away as a player sent it sailing down the ice toward the opposite goal. The players hustled down the rink as two guys from each of the teams scrambled to take control of it. The one wearing the black jersey slammed the green jersey player into the boards. They dug in and fought vigorously for the puck until the black jersey player took it, and passed the puck to a fellow teammate.

She caught a glimpse of the back of the black jersey attached to the tall player, and saw the number 22. That was Drake’s number. Their practice jerseys didn’t have their names on it, just their assigned player numbers. Now, she knew where he was.

As the forwards on his team passed the puck between them towards the other net, Drake skated in that direction, but held back in case the other team got ahold of the puck again. Bragnae watched one of Drake’s teammates shoot the puck into the net with ease, and then a whistle sounded.

The players vacated the ice and sat on their respective benches, hydrating themselves as they listened to the coach talk about their performance. Bragnae couldn’t make out his exact words, but that was okay. She kept her eyes on Drake anyway. He leaned his stick against his shoulder as he removed his helmet. His dark hair was completely saturated with sweat. He rubbed a hand over his head before bringing the green Gatorade bottle up to take in more fluids.

Bragnae grew up a hockey fan. Her dad had played when he was younger, so it was engrained in their family. She had fond memories of watching their state’s professional team sitting next to him on those cold winter nights. Her father taught her a lot about the game, which made it easier to watch Drake play and listen to him tell her about his practices and games.

After another minute, the teams rose and starting filing out towards the locker room. She stood and walked over to the boards in front of the first row. Drake noticed her immediately. Even though he was 85 feet away from her – the width of the regulation rink – she could see him smile in her direction. Instead of following his team, he skated back onto the ice and headed towards her.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he observed, smiling brightly at her. There wasn’t any acrylic shielding walls where they stood, unlike a true hockey rink that was surrounded in it, so it was easier to see and hear him.

“Hey, stud. You looked good out there.” She leaned her legs against the polyethylene dasher boards, gripping the top of it as she admired Drake in his gear. His shoulder pads and chest protector made him look even more bulky than he was, and his skates gave him an inch or two of extra height. With sweat beads rolling down his somewhat flushed face, he looked like he’d just been in an intense battle. Technically, that wasn’t far off.

“Thanks. Glad to be done for the day, though.” Drake skated to the edge of the board bringing his stick around Bragnae’s back to guide her to him.

She giggled as she fell forward a bit, bracing herself on his protected shoulders. He smiled as her mouth dropped to his. She could taste the saltiness of the sweat on his lips, and even though his athletic scent filled her nose, she was happy to kiss him in that moment. Drake, showered or un-showered, was irresistible.

A teasing whistle sounded from the opposite side of the rink. Drake laughed as he pulled away to look behind him. “Hey, fuck off!” He shouted playfully before returning his attention to Bragnae. “That’s just my buddy, Chuck. He’s on the same defensive line as me, and I think he’s a little jealous that I get to kiss such a beautiful woman right now.”

“Poor Chuck.”

“Yeah, bad for him, but good for me.” With his hands on the hockey stick that still held her in place, he pulled her towards him for another sweet kiss. “Wanna skate for a little bit? Maybe play a little one-on-one?”

“I didn’t bring any skates.”

“Not a problem.” He dropped his stick from around her, and pointed to the upper far corner of the room. “Go through that door, and there will be a place you can grab some skates. A nice lady named Carla will give you a pair to borrow.”

She patted Drake on the shoulder. “Okay, I’ll be right back.” She grabbed her purse and walked in the direction Drake told her. She wore a long-sleeved lavender sweater and a jean mini skirt. As she walked to the skate rental counter, she wondered how easily she’d be able to move on the ice in her outfit.

Carla had given her the size skates she needed with no charge, but she needed to grab the pair of socks in her tote bag to put them on. She was grateful she thought ahead to bring extra items. A few minutes later, while she laced up her skates, Drake was gliding around the ice casually flipping a puck into the net every so often.

When the skates were secured, she stood and walked over to the boards. Drake joined her in a flash, skidding his skates at an angle on the ice to stop himself.

“I don’t know how well I’ll be able to skate in this outfit, or hop the boards for that matter,” she told him, looking skeptical.

“I’d be happy to help a lady out.” He pulled her closer to the boards and reached over to scoop her into his arms, placing her down on the iced part of the rink.

“Well, that settles that,” she giggled, straightening her clothes.

“We’ve got about thirty minutes before the Zamboni needs to clear the ice. So, let’s skate a little bit and maybe get you a stick to hold.”

Naughty thoughts filled her mind. “Would I get to hold your stick? Because if so, we may want to find somewhere more private for that.”

He glanced at her from the side, shaking his head with that sexy smirk of his. “You have a dirty mind today, Miss Bennett.”

“You know you like it,” she flirted with a wink. “Plus, you kind of set me up with that one.”

He laughed. “So I did. Come on.” He took her hand, and the two of them began skating casually around the rink.

Bragnae couldn’t move too swiftly because the denim skirt restricted her a bit, but she was still able to catch up.

“You’re pretty good on the ice. Did I know that about you?” Drake asked.

She thought for a moment trying to recall if she’d ever skated with him when she visited Drake at his work. “No, I guess you didn’t. I’ve been leisurely skating my whole life. My dad took me skating a lot growing up. He played hockey too.”

“No kidding. What position did he play?”

“He was a defenseman like you. From the stories I’ve heard, he was pretty good. Taught me all I know about hockey.” Bragnae concentrated on crossing her skates over one another to turn with the rink. Drake glided gracefully along with her. It was second nature to him at this point. That was evident by the way he spent most of the time looking at her rather than what was in front of him.

“That’s awesome. If I ever get to meet him, I’m sure we’ll have lots to talk about.” Drake slowed them down and pulled her over to the bench where the team once sat.

Bragnae smiled at the thought of Drake meeting her father. She knew they’d get along great, and that they’d have a lot in common. They were both a little rough around the edges, but kind when it was needed.

Drake procured a shorter hockey stick from the other side of the boards, and handed it to Bragnae. Then, he tossed a few more pucks on the ice for them to play with. She gripped the black hockey stick like her dad taught her to do years ago, and skated out to center ice, dragging a puck with her.

Sliding the rest of the pucks with his stick to the center, Drake dashed off to the net to stand in front of it. “Go ahead, Bragnae. Show me what you can do.”

She scoffed. “You’ll just block all of them. I am way out of my league here.”

He chuckled. “Just give it a try. And keep the shots low. Coach will kill me if I get hit in the head when I should have been wearing a helmet.”

Bragnae pulled a puck in front of her with the stick, and pushed it forward, handling it back and forth until she was closer to the goal. She shot it towards Drake who just stood in place letting it hit the net.

“That was good. Try it again.”

Bragnae skated back to center ice, and retrieved another puck. Taking her time so she wouldn’t stumble, she eventually made her way back to Drake. This time, he took a more defensive stance, bending his knees and bobbing back and forth, as she prepared to shoot the puck. She held firm in front of the net trying to gauge which ‘hole’ she should shoot it towards. There were five distinct gaps a player could shoot the puck through that the goalie’s body couldn’t always protect.

Putting weight on her stick, Bragnae bent forward locking her eyes with Drake. “Where am I going to shoot it, Walker?” She taunted.

He smirked at her. “Why don’t you go for the five-hole – right between my legs?”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” She propelled the puck forward, trying to send it flying through the upper right corner of the net, but Drake blocked it. She didn’t have the power behind the shot to challenge his reflexes. “You’re just too quick for me.”

Drake skated forward to pull her into him. “I think you’re doing just fine. And you look very sexy skating around in a skirt, handling the stick and puck like you are. I could watch you do this all day.”

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you.” She gripped the fabric of his jersey and pulled him into a slightly unsteady kiss thanks to the ice below.

His hands slid down to her thighs just below her skirt. “Are you getting cold?”

“A little.” She didn’t anticipate spending a long time in the arena, which made her decide the mini skirt was okay, but now being directly over the ice, she was starting to get chilly.

“How about this? I’ll clean up the pucks and then head to the locker room to take a shower. After you return your skates, you can meet me in there and wait by my locker.”

“Okay, but won’t there be other guys in there getting dressed?” Not that she’d ever turn away from seeing hockey players in any capacity, but she wanted to be respectful of their space.

“Don’t worry about that. You’re a hot female, and they won’t mind. Besides, most of them are probably gone by now anyway.”

“Okay, I’ll see you in there in a few minutes.” Bragnae skated off to the side of the rink she came from, and threw her legs over the boards. After taking off her skates, she gathered her things and went to return them.

She didn’t know an alternative path to the locker rooms, so she walked carefully across the ice in her sandals to get to get to it. After sauntering down the long hallway, she saw a sign for the locker room to the left.

Bragnae hoped the rest of the team had gone so she wouldn’t embarrass them or herself. She wondered why Drake wanted her in the locker room anyway. It just felt wrong for her to be there. If she were on an all-female team, she wouldn’t want some random guy hanging out while the rest of the team got dressed.

Carefully stepping through the spacious locker room, she heard the shower to her right, but couldn’t see anything as she glanced quickly in that direction. Walking into another room, she saw open cubbies that lined the wall. Each of them had a thin dry erase board above with their names written on them. As she made her way over to his locker, she noticed a tall, muscular guy with short auburn hair throw a t-shirt over his chiseled torso. He looked over at her and politely smiled.

She waved nervously at him. “Sorry. Don’t mean to intrude. I’m just waiting for Drake.”

“You’re good,” he told her as he walked in her direction with an arm extended. “I’m Chuck Mulligan. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” she said, accepting his greeting. “Bragnae Bennett.”

“Drake talks about you all the time.” His eyes quickly scanned down her body trying to be discreet, but she noticed anyway. “I can see why.”

“I guess I’ll take that as a compliment. Thanks,” she smiled.

“It definitely is.” He walked back over to his gear, and slung a duffle bag over his shoulder. “Drake should be done soon. Take care, Bragnae.” She waved at him again as he left the locker room.

After a quick glance around, she took a seat on the bench in front of Drake’s locker. The room definitely had the smell of men in it. It wasn’t unpleasant, rather it was sort of comforting. It was a mixture of hard work, sweat, and cologne – the way any man that was worth a damn should smell.

Just as she was about to pull out her phone to pass the time, Drake started walking towards her… wearing just a white towel wrapped around his waist. His hair was still soaked, but this time it was clean. A tendril of his wet hair curled over his forehead, but the rest was combed back. Residual water from the shower made parts of his upper body glisten. He made her heart skip a beat.

Drake walked right up to her, bent down with his fingers tilting her chin up, and captured her lips in a solid kiss. “You look cute sitting here by my locker,” he said before walking around the bench to get to his clothes.

Bragnae spun around on the wooden bench to face him. Just as she did that, Drake removed the towel from his waist and began drying off the few wet spots left on his chest. Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head. Her jaw dropped as she was faced with the side profile of Drake’s very nice looking dick and the curves of his butt. She had only been privy to his nakedness once before during the threesome with Leo, but everything happened so fast that night that she didn’t have time to really indulge in his magnificent features.

“Oh my,” she blushed, but didn’t look away. In fact, her eyes feasted on his physique with absolute hunger. There wasn’t anything about this man she didn’t crave.

Drake gave her a side smirk before handing her the towel. “Here, I think you’re drooling a little.”

Giggling, she snatched the towel from him, and snapped it against his perfectly formed ass. He chuckled reaching for his cologne.

“You really know how to grab a girl’s attention, don’t you mister?” Even now she couldn’t peel her eyes off of him. Her heart thumped in her chest while heat pooled between her legs.

“Am I making you wet?” He asked without hesitation still standing stark naked in front of her.

Excited by his sudden candor, her lips automatically transformed into a salacious smile. “Uh-huh.” She loved how honest they could be with each other. “To be fair, you already kind of got me started watching you play hockey.”

He cheerfully nodded at her response. She bit her lip desperately wanting to touch him all over. From where she sat, she’d be able to take him in her mouth easily as he towered over her with his scrumptious bod. “Why don’t you come a little closer, and let me drag my tongue around that big guy.” His dick twitched at her comment, and she loved it.

Drake exhaled a slow breath, and stepped into a dark green pair of boxer briefs. Bragnae playfully pouted her lips making him laugh when he turned to her again. “Don’t be too disappointed, Bennett.” Then, he threw on a t-shirt and pulled on a pair of light-washed jeans.

Grabbing his hockey stick, he straddled the bench and held it over Bragnae’s head. “Face me on the bench, and then grab this with both hands.”

She was a little confused but did as he said. As soon as she had a comfortable grip on the stick, Drake pushed on it making Bragnae lean back with it. He followed through until her back was flush with the bench. “What are you doing?”

“Stay like that, and just relax.” He kissed her briefly on the lips. The stick rested perpendicular on the bench, and Bragnae let her arms relax while she continued to grip the hockey stick.

Drake brought her legs together again just so he could push up her tight jean skirt. A tingle shot down her spine, not only from his touch, but from the anticipation of what was to come. With the denim pushed up to her waist, Drake hooked his fingers around the straps of her red satin panties and pulled them off. He sat down on the bench, and threw her legs over his denim clad thighs while positioning her just right.

“Now, it’s my turn to use my tongue.” He winked at her before diving his face down to her pussy.

A moan immediately left her body while she slowly twisted her torso, feeling his tongue work wonders against her sensitive skin. Her breathing quickened, and she tightened her calves against his legs. The tension in her body elevated the pleasure she was receiving. Her grip on the hockey stick constricted as he continued.

Drake used his hands to tilt her pelvis up to give himself a better angle. His skillful tongue rounded her clit in slow concentric circles before moving to rapidly flick her swollen bud.

Bragnae arched her back in approval. “Ohmigod, Drake. Don’t stop.” She felt the pressure build quickly leading to what she knew was to be a fantastic explosion of pleasure. Like the trooper he was, Drake kept up that same pace for a few more moments until heaven rippled throughout her body. She sent a flood of cries into the room as he continued to coax more of the orgasm from her depths.

Drake dragged his tongue around her skin, even dipping down to lap at her entrance. She was at complete peace in that moment reveling in the pleasure high he put her in. When Drake sat up, he wiped his mouth and took a deep breath followed by a triumphant smile.

“How was that?” He asked knowing the answer.

She nodded her head still trying to regain her breath. “Amazing. So amazing.”

He patted the side of her leg smiling down at her. “You are so beautiful, and you taste so nice.”

“You always make me feel so good about myself, Drake.” She let go of the hockey stick, and stretched her tensed arms above her head. “Thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Now, will you let me return the favor?” She asked still lying flat against the bench. He had slayed her with his tongue, and she was utterly spent.

“I appreciate the offer, but this was all about you today. Plus, it’s better for my training if you don’t.”

“Why? Wouldn’t it be better to release the built up tension?”

“That’s exactly why I shouldn’t. Not having that release helps me to focus on my training more, making me more aggressive on the ice. Being hot and bothered makes for a better hockey player than a happy guy that just got off.”

Her eyes widened as she thought about what he said. “You’re not saying we can’t do this and have sex for the entire hockey season are you?”

Drake laughed. “No, thank God. The coach is deciding the first line for the upcoming season based on our performance here. The guys that get it will see the most time on the ice during the games. To make it fair for everyone, the coach put these rules in place to motivate us while we’re at this camp.” He gently massaged her thighs as he continued. “So, by not giving into my desires, I can train harder and play better during the practice games. I’m not even touching myself.”

Bragnae’s mouth gaped open in surprise. “Wow. It makes a lot of sense when you put it that way, but didn’t this torture you a little bit?”

He looked down at her still widened legs longingly. “Yes. Yes it did.” He sighed before meeting her eyes again. “But seeing you like this now and remembering the taste of you in my mouth will fuel me even more when I’m on the ice this week. Hell, I shouldn’t have even allowed you to visit me, but I wanted to see you.”

Bragnae used what core strength she could find to sit up amidst the incapacitating pleasure that still radiated in her body. She framed his face with her hands as he looped his arms around her back for support. “Did you miss me as much as I missed you?”

“Mmhmm,” he grinned, looking down at her affectionately. “I sure did.”

She smiled up at him. “Will the coach tell everyone who gets the first line by the end of the camp?”

“Yep.”

“Good. Then, when you come back to the university, we’ll have to celebrate because I know you’re going to get it.” She let a hand slide down the muscles of his chest. “And celebrate we will.” She looked up at him through her eyelashes being extra flirtatious.

“I can’t wait.” Drake leaned forward to kiss her. “Wanna grab some dinner?”

“Yeah, I bet you’re famished.” Drake scooted back, so she could more easily untangle herself from him. “Just let me put my panties back on, and we can go.”

Drake chuckled, retrieving them from the floor and tossing her the discarded thong.

Later, after they finished a couple of delicious burgers, they drove back to Drake’s hotel. They got out of the truck, so they could say their proper goodbyes.

“Thanks for letting me come up to see you. It will make this next week a little easier to get through.” Bragnae leaned back against the driver side of Drake’s truck, and he leaned into her.

“I’m glad you did. I needed this little reboot, too.”

“Do you want me to drop off your keys with Leo before you get back?” She needed to mentally prepare for it again if he wanted that.

“Nah, you can hold onto them. The team gets back next Sunday morning, and I’m sure we’ll see each other that day at some point. At least I’m hoping we will.” He stroked her cheek with the back of his finger.

“I’m pretty sure I work the lunch shift that day, but as soon as I’m finished I’ll be coming to see you.”

“Sounds good.” He leaned in for a deep lingering kiss. The cool breeze of the night perfectly complemented the heat between them. “Let me know when you get back tonight.”

“I will.” She pulled him in again, needing to feel his soft lips one more time before she left. “Good luck with the rest of the camp. I know you’ll kick ass and get the first line.”

“I hope so. Thanks, Bennett.” He opened the truck’s door for her, and watched her climb in. She started the engine, and rolled the window down. He looked her over with a smile on his face. “You look pretty good behind the wheel of my truck.”

She gave him a flirty shrug. “Bye, handsome.”

“See ya. And drive safe.” He tapped the door, and stepped back so she could pull out of the parking space.

Bragnae waved once more before driving away. A day that started off more stressful than anything else ended with lovely time spent with Drake. She really liked him, and felt their bond growing with each passing day. When he returned from his camp, it was highly likely they’d have sex. And she was more than ready for that because she wanted to be closer to him now more than ever before. She loved the idea of being his and only his. And she knew it was just a matter of time before they made their relationship status official.

But that also meant she needed to tell Drake about Leo. He needed to know before things turned more serious. Being roommates, would that complicate things for them? Would it somehow make Drake not want to be with her? Only time would tell.

#trr #trr fanfic #trr drake #the royal romance #the royal romance drake #the royal romance fanfic #drake x mc #drake x bragnae #drake walker #leo reese #bragnae bennett #trr love triangle #TRR Winner Take All Fanfic #Bragnae's Thirsty #Chuck's back #dessert before dinner

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scornedlove · 4 years

Text

Chapter Twenty-Seven

CHRIS

A couple of weeks had gone by since I promised myself I’d give Tae some space. It was disappointing that she’d only hit me up once since then, especially after I revealed so much to her the last time she was here. I really opened up to her in hopes of gaining her trust, maybe that’s why I’ve been buggin. Without her conversation, it’s hard to keep my mind off of Robyn. The last time I saw Robyn, she not only looked like a stranger, but she treated me like one too. Between her and Tae, my heart was torn and it was all too much to deal with.

Every time I felt myself getting in my feelings, I’d hit the studio, blast some music, and paint. It was like having a therapy session, which is how I was spending my Friday afternoon. I was in my zone, finishing up my third project this week when Taylor called, inviting me to go riding with him.

“Hell yeah! I had fun last time, but I wanna take it out where I can really put some gas to it.” I suggested, jumping at the chance to borrow his motorcycle again.

“Alright, I got you. I know just the place.” he promised, before we hung up. I finished the painting I was working on and stepped back to look at the finished product.

Diamond always gave the cutest pouty face when I wasn’t moving fast enough for her. I couldn’t get it out of my head, so I put it in paint. I snapped a picture of it and sent it to Tae before leaving, hoping that would put me on her mind.

“This chick wants me to meet her at the A for some drinks” Taylor announced when I got to his place.

“When ya’ll planning on doing that?”

“Right now, I told her 8. ″

“Then why you ask me to ride with you?” I asked, noticing it was fifteen til. “I’m not trying to be the third wheel”

“You won’t be. She’s bringing her roommate, so I told her I’d bring my brother” he added, with a smirk.

“I’m not going on a double date with you man, you know I got a girl.”

“It ain’t a date, unless you want it to be. I know that long distance shit ain’t gonna last too long.”

“Shut up fool. As long as you don’t get me in no shit, it’ll last as long as I want it to.”

“We’re just gonna hang for a bit, then take em on a ride. The ladies love that shit and I’m tryna get some ass tonight.”

“Well I’m not-”

“-Stop being a tight fuck. It ain’t all about them, come chill with ya bro.”

“Alright man, but don’t be mad if they both feeling me and you end up coming home empty handed” I teased as he tossed me the keys to his Harley.

We arrived twenty minutes later than expected due to traffic, but the girls still hadn’t made it. We found a spot at the bar, ordered a couple of beers, and watched the Saints play the Falcons while we waited.

“It’s looking like you got stood up lil bro” I stated when I noticed it was nine and still no sign of the chick he described.

“There she goes” he nodded towards the door when a familiar, dark skinned woman walked in. “She bad ain’t she?”

“Oh, hell naw. I heard this bitch was fuckin with Anthony a couple of weeks ago. You need to be caref-”

“Fuck Anthony. That’s yo homeboy. Besides, I’m always careful.” he stated, gulping down the rest of his beer before standing to greet Kiki.

“Small world. I would’ve never guessed y'all were brothers. Ryan gonna be shocked as fuck.” she cackled, getting comfortable next to Taylor as Ryan walked in. She was on the phone, eyes fixated on Kiki as she strutted past a couple of guys checking her out. She didn’t even notice me until she ended her call, a couple feet in front of me.

“Hey” she smiled, surprised to see me. “When Kiki told me she set me up on a blind date I was nervous as hell”

“Oh, this ain’t that.” I explained, tossing back the rest of my beer. She rolled her eyes at my bluntness and sat on the stool in between me and Kiki.

“Obviously, you shut that shit down already. I’m just glad you’re not some fucking weirdo.” she admitted and I couldn’t help but burst out in laughter.

“I see ya’ll are on good terms again” I nodded towards Kiki, who was cheesing like a schoolgirl while Taylor whispered in her ear. “I’m glad I didn’t get involved in that”

“Yeah, it didn’t take long for Anthony to hop on the next bitch” she shrugged nonchalantly. “How do you even know him? He doesn’t seem like someone you would associate with.”

“Shit, we go way back. He’s changed for the worse, that’s for damn sure. ”

“Well, at least one good thing came from him”

“What’s that?”

“He’s got some good connects. He introduced me to a DJ who’s been working with me on a couple of songs, even helped me land a couple of gigs when we were on good terms.”

“Good. Sounds like things are looking up for you.”

“You have no idea. I’ve been crazy busy. Matter of fact, I’m performing for this charity event in a few weeks, you should come.”

“Oh yeah? Send me the info. This is a crazy time for me too, but I should be able to work it in”

“Alright, but let me know either way. Don’t just leave me hanging.” she replied, before getting the bartender’s attention. They ordered margaritas and we settled on one more beer while we watched a little more of the football game. I wasn’t interested in the game, or getting drunk. I was ready for the adrenaline rush from flying through traffic, so after the ladies finished their drinks, we hit the road.

It didn’t take long for me to regret agreeing to do this with the girls. I’ve been abstinent for a solid five months now, and I haven’t seen Tae in over a month. Having Ryan’s double D’s on my back and arms wrapped around my waist had my man standing tall. I did my best to keep it to myself, but she got a couple of feels in.

Nevertheless, we rode across the Pacific Coast Highway to the infamous Neptune’s net, where we hung out for a little while, had dinner, and smoked a blunt by the beach, before heading back to the city. That’s when I realized those couple of feels weren’t an accident, they were intentional. I don’t know if it was because she was tipsy, but Ryan couldn’t keep her hands to herself. I was cool about it the first time, but then she slipped her hands in my pants while I was driving, and I damn near wrecked trying to pull over.

"If you want to make it home without having to find another way, you gonna have to keep your hands above my waist”

“Were you feeling violated? Because it looks like you were enjoying it.”

“Fuck that. I’m tryna keep shit platonic between us, but if you can’t handle that we can’t do this anymore. I’ll find you a ride, but I’m not doing this with you”

“Fine. I’ll stop.” she stated, throwing her hands up in defeat. She behaved the rest of the ride, but when we made it to her place, she invited me in and was offended when I quickly declined.

“Well, you know where I am if you wanna talk or whatever” she stated before sashaying towards her front door. The deep ass swing in her hips made it evident she wanted more than a conversation.

I waited as she dug in her purse, searching for her keys until she gave up and made a call. By the look on her face as she walked towards me, I knew bad news was coming.

“Kiki has my house key and she’s not answering. Is it cool if I stay at your place tonight?”

“You gotta be kidding” I sighed in disbelief. “Ya’ll set this shit up huh?”

“Really? Don’t flatter yourself. A simple yea or no will do” she sassed, almost tripping over her own foot.

“What other choice do we have? Let’s go” I shrugged, handing her the helmet back. She was fucked up and I didn’t want to be here all night waiting for a damn key, so I decided we’d deal with it tomorrow.

ROBYN

“I can’t believe I’m doing this”

“It looks great and it’s almost done, no need to fuss now” I reassured Mel as I wrapped my arms around her for comfort.

Today I finally went through with covering the matching tattoo Chris and I’d gotten a couple of years ago on some drunk on love shit. Halfway through, I almost chickened out, so Mel made me a deal. She said she was done with tattoos before, but if I went through with this one, she’d get one of my choice blindfolded. So here we were, both with swollen hands, only mine was three times the size of hers.

“Alright, ya’ll know the drill. Keep it clean and dry.” BB, my tattoo artist, stated once he finished her design. “and you really need to baby yours Robyn, here’s some extra ointment. It should help with the pain too.”

“Awww shit! This is dope!” Mel grinned after uncovering her eyes. Capturing moments was inked flawlessly in script on the side of her left hand.The moment we were settled in the back seat of John’s ride, she snapped a pic and sent it to J.

“I’m obsessed! Girl, fucking with you, I wasn’t sure what to expect, but it’s perfect. You did good”

“Give jack he jacket! You know I don’t do you dirty!” I teased, grinning from ear to ear.

“Yeah, but you been wilding ever since that shit with Chris and Dre.”

“Bitch, you not even supposed to be saying the C word” I snapped, narrowing my eyes at her.

“Speaking of Chr- I mean C. Has he reached out to you since?” she continued, ignoring my annoyance.

“No. I guess I scared the shit outta him when I mentioned the police, but Aundre’s ass won’t stop calling”

“So you’re not talking to him either?”

“Nope. I’m taking your advice and leaving both of they asses alone.“

“We’ll see how long that lasts” she snickered, rolling her eyes, as if she knew I was to weak to go through with it. I hated when she did that.

“Don’t do that.’

"What”

“Don’t play dumb. I’m sick of that shit.”

“Chill out, it ain’t that serious”

“I am serious Mel. Don’t shoot me down like that. Not everybody got they life figured out by 24.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She quizzed, shaking her head. “I’m still figuring this shit out too. Everything ain’t smooth sailing over here either.”

“I find that hard to believe.” I scoffed, crossing my arms and wincing from the pain of brushing my freshly tatted hand against my clothes.

“I don’t complain all the time and I don’t wear that shit on my sleeve, but yeah Rob, I be going through some shit too.”

“Like?”

“Like my husband working seventy hour weeks and my married boss flirting and making passes at me all the fucking time”

“Michael?”

“Yeah, anytime we’re alone together he gets a little too close and happens to accidentally brush up against me the wrong way or says something sexually cryptic ”

“You lying! He’s fine as hell, but don’t fuck around with a married man. Matter of fact, you should just leave that job. These things always end up ugly”

“I’m not stupid, but I’m not leaving my job either.”

“Why not?”

“The amount of money I’m making with him is crazy, I ain’t gonna get that anywhere else.”

“Girl please, you have J. Who cares about the money? It ain’t worth the money, you need to quit”

“Easy for you to say. I’'m finally making good money and I’m not ready to let it go. Over a couple of ass grabs? Naw, imma milk this cow. Maybe I’ll be able to open my own shit one day.”

“Well all I gotta say is don’t slip up and lose ya husband over nothing stupid.”

“I would never jeopardize my marriage. J has made me a better person in so many ways, I’d be stupid to fuck up something this good. ”

“Fi true” I agreed, before John Legend’s All of Me started blaring from her phone.

“This my baby calling now” she gasped, a smile creeping across her face as she answered in her sexy voice. I couldn’t help but feel a little jealous as they flirted back and forth. I had to turn my attention to the starry sky in order to successfully tune her out. Instead of obsessing over my own sad love life, I looked for constellations while reminding myself of all the frogs she had to kiss in order to find her prince.

CHRIS

“CHRIS WHAT THE FUCK!” Tae’s unmistakable voice pierced my ears, snatching me from dreamland. It took a minute for it to register that she was standing right in front of me. Then I realized why she was screaming.

“Get up Ry-” I attempted to wake Ryan’s drunk ass up, but she was out cold. We passed out sitting up on the sofa watching Rush Hour, I don’t know how her head ended up on my lap. It may have looked a little bad, but Tae was definitely exaggerating.

“SO THIS IS WHAT YOU REALLY DO WHEN YOUR BY YOURSELF! I KNEW IT. YOU’RE A LIAR! ”

“BABE!” I yelled over her to get her attention. “You buggin. We’re fully clothed. Nothing happened.”

“And that makes this okay? Your fucking ex is laying in your lap!” Lose my number!” she screamed throwing my key at me and running out the house.

My mind was yelling for me to run after her, but my legs wouldn’t move. Is that really all it took for her to walk out on me again? If so, what is the point of this long distance shit? What was she even doing in Cali? I haven’t talked to her in days and she just randomly shows up to act like this. I had so many questions, but at the same time, I didn’t care for a single answer. I felt a weight lift from my shoulders as I realized something. I’m single again.

#rihanna #chris brown #ff #fanfiction #fanfic

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rideboldlyride · 4 years

Text

MRAU: The King and the Reaper

(This is the telling from this, @elleleh’s AU, and artwork, approved by her. Please go follow her for more of these beautiful stories and artwork!!)

***

A loud clatter of the prison door sent it's occupant shying away from the noise, and into a nearby corner. Shivering, the man looked akin to a stray dog, cowering in the filthy cell. The visitor stood tall in the dusty shadows. A dim red glow appeared at his lips, hinting at the sneer. The stream of smoke replaced the glow, and his expression was hidden once more. But it had been enough to identify the spectre.

“Reaper."

Purring, the scarred man kneeled before his captor.

"You know me."

"Of course. You're the second most feared man in these parts."

Cocking his head to the side, he let out a tsk.

"Second? Someone must have heard something." His face shifted from bravado to intensity, and he leaned in over the man. "Tell me."

Even as the man shivered and cowered away, he shook his head.

"Not even to you, Reaper."

Eye's squinted in frustration, and the glow from the cigarette in his mouth lit them up.

"You will tell me."

Resolute, the old drunkard stood surprisingly firm.

"Better death at your hands, than at his."

Removing the cigarette from his lips, he extinguished it under foot. As he spoke again, the smoke slipped from his lips.

"We'll see about that."

***

It was a cold night on the coast of northern Vale. A sound of fluttering wings startled a drunk man stumbling out of a nearby inn, and he turned to the source. Emerging from the black, a darkly clad man with a scarred visage, rose a brow to him. The charm at his throat glinted in the moonlight, and the scar caught the shadows unnaturally.

The drunk tried to look behind him, to spot the source of the sound, but the imposing figure stopped before him.

"Light?"

Shaken from his stupor, the drunk dug into his pockets, producing a lighter. Snagging the flimsy tool from him, the larger man puffed at his cigarette. Tucking the lighter back into the other man's shirt, he turned away. Without a backwards glance, he threw a parting statement.

"Your ass is hanging out."

Still confused by the interaction, he let out a 'huh?' before the words connected with the cool breeze he felt, and he reached for his belt loops to pull up what remained of his dignity.

Pressing deeper into the port town, Qrow took in the sights. There was only one ship docked at the port, he had confirmed, but it was obvious that most of the men were stretching their legs on land. A skeleton crew had remained aboard. But he hadn't wanted the sober crew tending the ship, he wanted the sloshed lowlifes that filled the less than reputable inns.

A breeze whipped down the road from the harbor, carrying with it a misting of rain- a warning of the storm to come. Turning up his coat jacket, its large lapel kept the almost freezing water off his neck. A large crash caught his attention, followed by laughter. He had found his target.

He made no attempt to hide his presence, opening the door with an air of certainty. The men within sobered immediately. One let out a soft curse, and they all straightened up. Qrow squinted after them, and after taking a puff on his cigarette, stepped further in and out into the brighter light.

The men heaved a collective sigh. He raised a black brow at their responses, but it was the man who let out the curse that his attention was most drawn to.

Stepping up next to his space at the bar, Qrow threw down a few lien.

"Seems you mistook me for someone else."

"Got that right, pal." The man sneered at him.

Qrow sat beside him. "Well, the least I can do is pay for a round of drinks for you all."

Gesturing to the barkeep, he bought them all another round, and himself a whiskey.

"Fair enough. Guess you're alright."

"That was a pretty strong reaction, buddy. Who's got you all running scared?" A disarming smile, and a hearty laugh was enough to embolden the young man at the bar.

Slurring his words slightly, his new friend rounded on him.

"Our captain. Terror of the seas."

Qrow parroted amazement.

"You mean you all sail with the Pirate King?" He forced a little bit of awe into the last few words.

Knowing that this man had most likely signed his own death warrant with those words meant little to Qrow. If you're crew wasn't loyal, they weren't your crew. The young man pressed on, pride filling his chest.

"Sure do! He's down at the harbor still. Hear he don't leave the ship."

"You hear?" The lanky man's heart sank- this might be another dead end.

"Well, I just finished my first 'tour' of the ports, if ya will."

Ah. Fresh blood, drunk on their success. He wasn't going to last long, with or without Qrow speeding up the process. Those types never did.

"So, then, I'd guess you would have to go to the ship itself to meet him, huh?"

"Good luck. He don't take to visitors kindly. And he rarely talks, let alone notices anyone but his crew."

A small doubt nibbled at his brain. Luck wasn't his forte, but he hadn't needed either type on his side yet.

"That's not a man, that's a legend."

The smaller man scoffed into his drink.

"That's only cause you haven't met him. See there was this stowaway, see..."

Plied with drinks and encouragement, the young man spun tales that even his other crewmates would have hard times believing, but within those stories, crumbs of reality were hidden. And Qrow was good at piecing together the crumbs.

An hour later, he feigned great exhaustion, and squared away his tab and lodging. Saying his farewells, he entered his room and locked it. Kicking off his shoes and removing his coat, Qrow flopped onto the bed, fully dressed. It was one less step he'd need in the morning.

His appointment was an early one.

***

It was still dark when Qrow arose, but the edges of the overcast sky were starting to redden. The ground was slushy under foot, and the eaves dripped icy water, with one particular drop finding itself between his coat collar and the back of his neck.

Growling at his luck, he pressed out into the dim light. A few men stood outside the doors of the inns, uttering insincere farewells to ladies of the night, while others stumbled away from their perches at bars, empty bottles in hand. A few years prior, the draws of the night might have been tempting, but now, he just wanted to get the mission over with so he could go home.

Pulling a cigarette from his coat, he patted at his pockets again for a missing lighter. Cursing it's absence, he stepped to a nearby lantern and made use of it's fire.

The crew were beginning their trek to the ship slowly, stumblingly, steadily, and Qrow quickly outpaced them. However, as he neared the dock, the crew grew steadily more sober, having manned the ship through the night. His presence was quickly noted.

A flurry of sword points and cocked pistols steadied themselves at his bemused expression.

"I'm merely an... ambassador, if you will, here to speak with the Pirate King."

The sky was steadily reddening behind the heavy gray clouds, casting it's unearthly pall onto the boat and it's alert crew. A sneering voice queried, unseen over the rails of the ship.

"What would he want to talk to you about, Reaper?"

A spindly silhouette emerged at the top of the deck, backlit by the bloody sky.

"From what I hear, you don't talk much."

Curling a corner of his lips, Qrow jeered at the oily creature at the top of the gangplank. His eyes lit up with a pull of his cigarette.

"Mainly because you're not the one I'm here to talk to. Besides," the imposing young man, leaned back, moving unaffectedly by the surrounding weaponry, "from what I hear, he isn't much of a fan of others speaking for him."

Shrugging, he pulled out another unlit cigarette, using the smoldering butt of his previous one to light it.

"But I guess that's your funeral."

***

The dogs had been slow in returning to the ship, and it's captain was not pleased. It had been a while since they had been back at Harbor's End, he knew, but the itch to be gone had been there since they had docked a week prior.

His face and fingers felt cold, and he was desperate for the heat of the flames to warm them again.

Absently, two days into their respite, he considered marshalling the forces to pillage the town, but talked himself out of the pleasure. He had resorted to obsessing over the condition of his ship instead.

So when, on the day of departure, the men were slow to return, his mood had further soured. The sky was aglow red, an ill omen, when he finally withdrew the curtains on his cabin. Growling, the King of Pirates ground the heel of his palm into the aching empty socket. All signs led to bad luck for the crew and it's planned setting off. He pulled a cigarette and lit it. It was going to be one of those days. If he didn't end up putting down one of the dogs before sunset, he'd be amazed.

And then he heard it.

That damned Dreg running his mouth. This Bird of Prey wasn't going to even make it to sunrise.

Speaking as with any sort of right to command. The captain didn't care to who or what about- he was tired of that slime on his ship.

The door opened without a sound, and he emerged on deck. Of the crew still at the port, all surrounded an unwelcome visitor, weapons at the ready. Dreg had not heard or seen him emerge, and his lips curled in disgust.

"... But I guess that's your funeral."

The visitor spoke with confidence, but sounded young. Out of clear sight angle, the only things ascertainable were the dark clothes and hair, along with a thin stream of smoke. He'd make short work of the interloper when he was done.

As he moved forward, the captain made no attempt to hide his footfalls. The rest of the crew noticed it, but Dreg pressed on, oblivious to his fate. Jeering, the dogs hooped and whistled, and the fool felt emboldened.

Unsheathing his sword, he drew up behind him even as he continued to seal his fate.

"I'm not going to waste the captain's time with a minion like you!"

Like a mouse discerning it's fate as a hawk's shadow falls upon it during it's last moments, Dreg spotted the imposing shadow fall upon him. Before he could turn, the Pirate King's sword slipped effortlessly through him. Trembling hands, the slimy cur turned to his captain, muttering out protests to an indifferent expression.

His words became distant, as his eyes rolled back into his head, and he slid off the blade. Crumpled to the ground, the captain used a boot toe to encourage the carcass to tumble off the gangplank and into the waters below.

The crew growled and hooted when the body hit the water. Pulling a cloth from his side, he wiped clean the blade before he would turn attention to the visitor, and the men turned their glee in the same direction.

Sheathing his sword, he turned his gaze to the young man, and froze. In the early sunrise, the charm around his neck glowed as red as the eyes staring back at him.

Steadily, he stepped down the gangplank, stopping a few steps away.

He took in the scarred visage of the man before him. For the first time in many years, the captain wasn't sure of what to do next. A pause passed between them, and the crew, expecting immediate bloodshed died down.

The Reaper knew who stood before him, and the King of Pirates held no doubts either. What time had passed for them both, for their titles to mean more than their names?

"Qrow."

A raven brow rose, waiting.

"You're alive."

To say he was surprised would have been a lie. And to blame him would be a greater one.

The young man withdrew the cigarette from his mouth and extinguished it under foot.

"I'm just as surprised to see you drawing breath," he paused, and Kite Branwen saw him roll his shoulders, before forcing out the final word. "Father."

#mrau #misfortunate remnant #misfortunate remnant AU #qrow’s dad #raven’s dad #elleleh #ellelehman #elleusive #qrow branwen #kite branwen #rideboldlyride

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creative-type · 4 years

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wake from death (and return to life) chapter ii

AO3 Previous Chapter AN: Huge shout out to @codedredalert for doing art for this chapter. We Kuina stans gotta stick together, and she did a fantastic job. Please consider giving her a commission, I promise it’ll be money well spent

Kuina walked into Ipponmatsu’s shop sopping wet and chilled to her very bones. At the entranceway she shook herself like a dog, spraying drops of water all over the store. It was a childlike indulgence, something she never would have considered just that morning. But at that moment nothing seemed to matter. Not the shop, not her manners, nothing.

She heard Ipponmatsu before she saw him hurl a towel in her direction. Kuina caught it one handed, keeping the other clenched tightly around her sword. It was still nameless after all these years. It didn’t seem right to bestow it with such an honor when her birthright was still at Shimotsuki Village.

Except Wado wasn’t with her father. Zoro wore it at his waist, because... why? Had he taken it? Had Father given it to him?

Kuina dried her face and hair before turning to face Ipponmatsu properly. The commotion had drawn his wife from the storeroom, Ipponume standing by his side with an arm wrapped protectively around his waist. Twin looks of concern broke through Kuina’s distracted thoughts. She blinked once. Twice.

“I’m leaving.”

What would have been a grand pronouncement moments ago came out strained and creaking. She was leaving the people she’d come to love as family, possibly forever. Kuina’s vision went fuzzy, and even though she’d just dried her face she could still feel the wetness on her cheeks.

Kuina wiped them with the back of her hand. She hated crying, had ever since she was a little girl.

“Kuina, what’s going on?” Ipponmatsu said. “I saw the pirates in the square, and then you come running in here like the devil himself was on your heels before running back out again! They’re saying on the den-den mushi that Smoker’s put the whole city on lockdown!”

Smoker . Somehow, Kuina had forgotten about him. She put her mask on hurriedly, not that it’d do much good now that Tashigi knew who she was. “Sorry, I don’t have time to explain.”

Not waiting for their reply she hurried to her room and began shoving clothes into a pack as fast as she could. It was the same one her father had sent her with years ago. The material was faded and worn, but it suited her, sturdy enough to fit her needs without drawing attention to itself.

“You can’t leave now!” Ipponume exclaimed. “Even without Smoker’s crackdown there’s not a ship on the island that’ll sail in this kind of weather!”

“I’ll worry about that later.” Kuina dug her small bundle of savings out from under her mattress. She’d offered to hand over her earnings as a bounty hunter for rent, but neither Ipponmatsu nor his wife ever allowed it. In exchange, Kuina didn’t let them pay her for the work she did for the store. She supposed it more or less balanced out in the end, except she owed them so much more than money. Kuina had to blink back more tears, which had been joined by an uncomfortable tightness in her throat.

“If anyone asks, you never saw me,” she said, willing her voice not to waver. “You didn’t know about my mask, and I was just some village kid you picked up on a whim. I’m...I’m sorry if I get you into trouble.”

Kuina got back to her feet, and without looking at either Ipponmatsu or Ipponume bowed deeply at the waist, deeper than she ever had for anyone she didn’t call Father. “I know words alone cannot convey the gratitude I owe you, but thank you. Thank you for opening your door to me that night.”

Still bowed, Kuina heard Ipponmatsu turn sharply on his heel and march out of her room. Surprised and hurt, she rose jerkily and stilted. Even if there was anything else to say, Kuina didn’t trust herself to speak. Turning her back so she didn’t have to see Ipponume’s reaction, Kuina resumed her packing, willing her facial features into a stoic expression more befitting of a swordsman.

Suddenly, her nose was assailed with the smell of Ipponume’s cooking. Kuina stiffened at the sound of Ipponmatsu’s wooden geta clacking softly against the hardwood floors. Against her better judgement she turned to see Ipponmatsu tying a plastic sack around a box of bento. He handed it over to Kuina, an eyebrow raised. “I suppose this is about that green-haired swordsman?”

"Zoro? You met him?”

“Met him?” Ipponmatsu snorted. “Girl, I gave him two swords free of charge.”

Kuina accepted the offered bento, too shocked to say anything else.

“He’s the second person I ever met whose luck matched Sandai Kitetsu’s curse.” A faraway, awed look came over him. “Bet an arm on it, in fact.”

“You gave him Yubashiri, too,” Kuina said, remembering the other sword she’d seen hanging at his waist. She’d been too focused on Wado to even wonder about it. She looked up at Ipponmatsu’s face, searching. “Why?”

It wasn’t because of any connection to Kuina. She’d made a point not to talk about her past before Loguetown, preferring to make as fresh a start as possible. It was easier, in some ways, not to reminisce.

“Because I saw something in him. He’s the real deal, a true swordsman.”

“Oh, honey, please,” Ipponume said. “What does this have to do about—”

“And I see that same look in you, Kuina,” Ipponmatsu interrupted forcibly. He crossed his arms across his chest and tilted his chin, looking like a rooster that had just finished his morning preen. Kuina knew him well enough to know when he was bluffing, and to her astonishment...he wasn’t.

“We knew we couldn’t keep you here forever,” he continued. “A cage as small as this isn’t near enough for you to spread your wings. I look forward to seeing how high you can go.”

Ipponmatsu lifted the blue oni mask from Kuina’s face, pinching her cheek like he used to when she was young, knowing how much it annoyed her. He offered a grin that couldn’t quite hide the extra shine in his eyes.

“Knock ‘em dead, kid.”

Kuina managed a wobbly smile of her own. “The marines will be here any second. Remember, you had no idea. About any of this!”

She tried to bow again, but with the single most derisive snort Kuina had ever heard in her life, Ipponume wrapped her in a hug strong enough to crush a bear. “I have no idea what’s gotten into you all. Swordsmen .”

But Kuina heard the pride in her voice, and she fixed it into her mind, hoping to remember it forever. Pausing only to grab an oiled cloak, Kuina plunged herself back into the streets of Loguetown for the final time.

If there was one ship stupid enough to leave port in the middle of a raging storm against the orders of Captain Smoker, it was Zoro’s. Kuina didn’t hold out any hope that he would still be on the island by the time she made it back to the coast, and even if it did, her pride rankled at the idea of riding his coattails to the Grand Line. She’d always imagined them setting out together. As equals . But that was before knowing that he’d spent the better part of a decade thinking she was dead, before learning he’d become a pirate, and before Kuina threw away nine years of secrecy to attack one of the few marines who knew who she really was.

So much had changed since just that morning, and in it all Zoro had found his way. Now it was up to Kuina to find hers.

It was a sentiment that was much easier said than done. Kuina stayed close to the alleys and side streets she knew like the back of her hand, having to duck back into the shadows more than once as clusters of marines ran down the rainy streets. The usual crowds had vanished, and despite the rain and the thunder, the absence of the human element made Loguetown feel like a ghost town.

Kuina guessed by the direction the marines were running that they were still busy at the square. Buggy the Clown had snuck an incredible amount of pirates into the city under Smoker’s very nose, and that wasn’t something he would take lightly.

With their paint and their ruffles, Buggy’s troupe stuck out like a sore thumb, and at the moment, so did she. For the first time Kuina wasn’t sure whether or not to wear her mask. It didn’t seem right to be seen with her sword without it. The two had always gone hand in hand, the familiar weight on her face a comfort that protected her more than any shield. Without the demon mask Kuina felt a little like she was going out to battle naked; there was no rule saying she couldn’t fight without it, but she had absolutely no desire to do so.

If she stuck to the shadows the dark of the storm should be enough to keep her hidden. All Kuina had to do was make it to the docks and stow away on a ship, and if not stow away use her reputation as the Demon of Loguetown to get what she wanted, hopefully before the marines put out a warrant for her arrest.

It was a risk. The mask was conspicuous, and in the past Kuina had always gone out with her chest bound. She knew—she knew —that everyone and their dog assumed the Demon was a man. In a pinch she might be able to bully her way onto a ship, the shapeless silhouette of her cloak enough to disguise her gender, but she didn’t feel confident enough in her acting ability to pretend to be a man for however long it took to reach the Grand Line. Without the duplicity she could easily see a ship’s captain brushing her aside as an imposter or kicking up a fuss. Or both, if she was especially unlucky.

A crack of thunder broke through her jumbled thoughts, and Kuina bit back a curse. Time . She was running out of time, each wasted second dwindling her already-limited options . There was no point trying to figure out what would happen out at sea if she couldn’t get off the damn island.

Father always said a true swordsman would never allow themselves to be swayed by emotion or sentimentality, and logic dictated that stowing away was the safest option, assuming she could find a ship setting sail at all. And stowing away meant stealth, and stealth meant not walking around dressed up as one of Loguetown’s most feared bounty hunters.

Gritting her teeth, Kuina slid the mask off her face and stuffed it into her pack, irritation burying like ants under her skin. Now the only thing conspicuous about her was her sword, and that wasn’t so easily hidden even within the bulky confines of her cloak. A thousand warnings echoed in her mind in a voice that sounded suspiciously like her father’s.

She stuffed that down as well and resumed her journey. With Captain Smoker effectively shutting the city down, there was a chance it could be days before she could actually make her escape. Smoker’s control over Loguetown was too tight for anything to escape his grasp, his men too well trained to let anybody slip through once they set up a perimeter.

Unless, of course, she hitched her ride to freedom someplace other than Loguetown.

Kuina came to an abrupt halt, suppressing the urge to smack herself upside the head for not thinking of it sooner. There was a cove just outside the city favored by pirates, smugglers, and merchants too cheap to pay the docking fee in town. Every couple months Smoker and his men went on expeditions to clear the place out, but as it turned out scum was an infinitely renewable resource, and the criminal population that called Canary Cove home always came back twice as strong as before.

Kuina herself had ventured to the cove on occasion to collect bounties. A shantytown sprung up from the mire, grown around every sort of illicit trade like a tumor. And like a tumor, it sucked life and resources from Loguetown proper. Cleverly nestled at the base of a shallow cliff, it was close enough to Loguetown for easy access, but almost impossible to find unless you knew what you were looking for. Any ships that dropped anchor were hidden from view by the sheltering arms of the cove.

She would be safe from the marines, but it would be a trick and a half to convince someone to let her aboard one of their ships, let alone to get to the Grand Line. The people who lived at Canary Cove were damnably insular, with lookouts posted every hour of every day and a dozen bolt holes hidden in the cliffside for people to scatter through once an alarm was sounded. Kuina always hated when a hunt took her here. For every trick and secret she discovered it seemed like there were a dozen she didn’t know about, and anyone found ratting out an accepted member of the community would quickly find themselves with a knife in the back for their troubles.

An exception was made for those who could afford it, the exchange of money for goods and services a universal language understood by both lawmen and the lawless. Maybe she wouldn’t need to stow away at all. With enough coin in the right hands Kuina could buy her way into the Grand Line.

That was an awful lot of maybes , but she was at the point where a bad plan was better than no plan at all. Kuina was confident about her ability to go up against any of Smoker’s men, but his Devil Fruit was another story entirely. It was best to avoid any chance of a confrontation, and to that end Canary Cove was her best bet.

By the time Kuina snuck out of the city and made it to the bluffs, the sky had faded from dark grey to pitch, starless black. Wind howled, and without anything to cut its teeth, Kuina bore the full brunt of the storm’s ire. Guided by sporadic flashes of lightning and the unpleasant memory of previous excursions, she carefully picked her way down the rocky slope. There wasn’t a proper trail as much as a zigzagging path that looked like it had been intended for a group of particularly athletic goats. The footing was loose and slick, and Kuina was forced to use her katana like a walking stick just to keep from tumbling into the sea below.

About halfway down Kuina slipped on a patch of crumbling stone. Her feet slid from under her, jagged edges of limestone tearing holes in her cloak. She didn’t have time to scream as she plummeted down…

down…

Reflex alone made her keep her hold on her katana, and when a jutting edge of rock sent Kuina airborne she was able to regather her senses enough to twist her body, stabbing her blade into the cliffside and praying she could hold on long enough to arrest her momentum even as her shoulder threatened to wrench out of socket. She slammed back against the cliff, stars flashing across her vision brighter than lightning, but somehow Kuina was able to maintain her grip.

Kuina slowed herself enough not to snap her ankles in half at the base of the bluffs. She tumbled into a boneless heap, gasping for air and not entirely sure she was still alive. Chunks of wet sand clung to her cheek, stinging as it grated against an abrasion that ran from temple to jaw. Kuina felt blood trickle down her leg, a dozen other aches and pains vying for the rest of her attention.

So much for her glorious entrance to the Grand Line.

With a grunt of effort Kuina forced herself upright, shaking as the surge of adrenaline left her as suddenly as it had come. Another bolt of lightning revealed that her sword was still stuck in the slide of the cliff. With as much dignity as she could muster, Kuina retrieved it before leaning back against the rockface.

Ow.

It was the only coherent thought she could manage at that moment. Sinking back to the ground, Kuina decided that finding a ship could wait the five minutes it took for her to catch her breath.

At least she was out of the wind. The storm had only grown stronger in the time it took for her to reach the cove. Each raindrop was an icy needle that penetrated her now-useless cloak. Kuina wiped strands of wet hair from her eyes, ignoring the blood and the grime on her face as she peered out into the darkness. The torches that usually illuminated the shantytown had fizzled out, leaving only a few specks of lantern light to show the blocky outline of shacks made of rough wooden planks, held together with bits of twine and waterproofed with oakum and tar. The town jutted over the edge of the water, standing on stilts that swayed haphazard with the waves and the wind. To Kuina’s surprise, two great warships were anchored just offshore. More lightning revealed that one bore the mark of Buggy the Clown, while the other didn’t have a flag at all.

Curious.

What was more curious were the dots of light clustered by the wharf nearest the second ship. The dim light was just enough to see a cluster of people hurrying up and down the gangplank. Kuina grinned. Maybe someone was crazy enough to depart tonight after all.

“Oi, who goes there?”

A vague mass of humanity emerged from the darkness. Kuina struggled to her feet, shrugging her pack higher on her back and keeping a hand wrapped around the hilt of her sword. One of the figures lifted a lantern, illuminating a hard-faced woman flanked by two bulky men with swords. Underneath their raincoats they wore the mismatched, ragged clothing typical of the people who called Canary Cove home. Lookouts, most likely, who’d seen or heard her tumble down the cliff and come out to investigate.

Kuina didn’t relax her stance. “I don’t mean any trouble. I’m just looking to hitch a ride, and it looks like you’ve got the only ships setting sail.”

The woman peered at her suspiciously. “Who are you—”

Her eyes widened in recognition before ever finishing the question. An unholy shriek pierced over the whipping wind, and she screamed, “Marines! The marines are coming!”

“What, no!”

Kuina barely had time to draw her sword before one of the thugs was on top of her, the clash of blades sending sparks into the night sky. She shoved him aside and met the second man before he could decapitate her, the weight of his strike making Kuina’s injured leg buckle.

The woman continued to shout the alarm, waving her lantern high above her head. Kuina let out a string of curses as she batted the second man’s blade out of his hands before smashing the hilt of her sword against his temple. He crumpled instantly, and Kuina prayed that she hadn’t killed him.

“Listen, this is a big misunderstanding. I’m not a marine!” Kuina shouted as men and women poured out of Canary Cove like wasps from a kicked over nest. Most fled for the cliffs, but enough came charging at her for Kuina to know she was in trouble.

“You think I wouldn’t recognize the face of the bitch who killed my boy?” the woman snarled. “I’ve seen you yipping at the heels of that dog Smoker often enough, praying for the day I’d do to you what you Government bastards did to him!”

From the depths of her robes the woman pulled a gun, but Kuina was already moving. The first shot went wide right, and Kuina rammed her shoulder into her abdomen before she could get off another. The woman screamed as she fell, firing wildly into the growing throng of people.

Kuina felt the bullet whizz by her ear, and the person in front of her doubled over clutching their ribs. She dove between two others and somersaulted back to her feet before they could turn around. This time she didn’t waste time using the back of her blade. Two quick strokes and they were down, her sword slick with their blood.

“It’s just one girl! Don’t let her get away!”

“For fuck’s sake , ” Kuina muttered irritably. “I’m not a marine!”

It didn’t matter, and Kuina couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of her current situation. She ran toward the shantytown, dodging bullets and ducking under swords. The crowded housing and narrow walkways lessened the advantage of numbers, and she was still determined to force her way onto the unmarked ship. Sand shifted to rickety planks of wood underfoot, the docks made entirely of salvage and held together with little more than some rope and a prayer.

Kuina’s grin widened. Hardly breaking stride, she swung her sword behind her, the keen blade cutting through the half-rotted wood like warm butter. She ducked behind a house and listened for the screams of those following her to fall through to the sea below.

Amateurs.

Wood creaked overhead. Kuina looked up in time to see a teenage girl standing on the top of the house to hurl a rock at her head, dodging to the side before it hit the walkway.

“Missed!” Kuina yelled.

But the girl had already thrown herself off the other side of the roof. Puzzled, Kuina glanced back and saw that the girl hadn’t thrown a rock at all.

“Oh shit—” Kuina flung herself backward as the bomb exploded. Her heel caught on a post, and she fell into the water. Brilliant light flashed, the blast tearing the dock to pieces. Slivers of wood longer than her hand shot through the water, any one of them enough to pierce her through at close distance. Kuina swam as far and as fast as she could, until her lungs burned for lack of air. In the confusion she couldn’t remember which way was up, the weight of her clothes and sword making it hard to fight against the pull of the water.

Turning wildly, Kuina panicked until she saw the orange glow of fire through the murky water. Blackness ate at the edges of her vision as she used the last of her strength to breach the surface, gasping for air.

“There she is!”

Swallowing a curse and a lungful of air, Kuina dove back under the water, pistol fire flashing like fireflies in the dark of the storm. With her bearings it was easier to swim back to the docks, diving deep enough to avoid being shot.

She came up directly under their feet. The swell was rising every minute, and Kuina had scant inches of air between the sea and the rickety slats they stood on. She willed her heartbeat to slow, ignored the sting of salt in her wounds. Her hands searched until they found a bit of wire latching two planks together. Fingers numb with cold held on with whatever strength she had left.

She was in trouble if they had explosives that could detonate underwater. She was in trouble anyway, injured and fighting and a dozen enemies that she could hardly see. But now that she could think, Kuina refused to panic. Each breath came out slow and steady as she weighed her options. Overhead, the people of Canary Cove began to argue.

“She’s dead. Ain’t no one that could survive a barrage like that.”

“Do you see a body? ‘Cause I’m not gonna rest easy until I see a fucking body.”

“I can’t see shit . C’mon, guys, I’m going home.”

“I would, except one of you idiots blew it to smithereens!”

Someone stomped their foot, sending drops of water through a crack nearly an inch wide onto Kuina’s face. Slowly, carefully, she adjusted her hold on the wire, positioning herself more squarely under the squabble. The people paid less and less attention to the water as they argued, yelling about the fire and the supposed marine attack. Kuina felt the rumbling of bootsteps up and down the length of the dock, but couldn’t tell if that meant people were leaving or if more were joining the fight.

“What’s the meaning of this?” a new voice exclaimed. “What’s going on here?”

“This doesn't concern you, stranger,” the man who’d complained about his house said. “If you were smart, you’d walk back to that fancy boat of yours and get on your merry way. Ten to one says it was you people who brought the marines here in the first place.”

“Marines? Here? But our intelligence says—”

“Well you can take your intelligence and shove it up your—”

Using the wire for leverage, Kuina thrust her sword through the crack. The man screamed as he tried unsuccessfully to jerk his foot off her katana. There was a sickening squelch as Kuina pulled free, immediately stabbing a second time.

This time she missed the opening between the planks, but it hardly mattered. There were more screams as people hurled themselves away from her sword, many falling into the sea. The few that kept their wits fired back, thrusting swords and shooting blindly to the space Kuina had occupied just moments before.

They were too slow. After her second thrust she bit down on the hilt of her sword and swam to the other side of the docks, cutting through the water as if she herself was a blade. Kuina pulled herself out of the sea while they were distracted, their backs turned.

Kuina’s grin turned razor sharp as she raised her sword. She hadn’t wanted this fight, but she would gladly finish it. Her pulse thundered in her ears, her muscles coiling. All it would take is one strike…

A hand clasped around her wrist and squeezed. Kuina suppressed a yelp as the bones of her wrist ground against each other, pain shooting up her arm. She fought against the hold, but the more she struggled the tighter the grip became until Kuina had no choice but to drop her katana.

Anger boiled over into fury. Without thinking, Kuina twisted her body to its breaking point and caught her sword with her off hand before it could hit the ground. Her grip was awkward, but she didn’t care, slashing wildly at the person who held her.

Her arm made it about halfway through its swing before it jolted to a stop, as if Kuina had hit some invisible metal wall. She barely had time to register what had happened before she was thrown backward, slamming into the back of one of the men who had been trying to kill her.

The blow knocked all the wind out of her, and the man staggered into the person next to him before falling. People began to shout as that man then fell on top of Kuina , burying her in a pile of thrashing limbs and blades.

There was so much noise and so much confusion that she almost didn’t hear the telltale crack of wood beneath her, and before Kuina knew what was going on she was plunged back into the cold, dark, unforgiving sea.

By the time Kuina woke the rain had eased from a torrential downpour to a mere thunderstorm. Every inch of her ached, and for as heavy as her limbs felt she wouldn’t have been surprised if her blood had been replaced with rivers of lead.

Blinking grit and salt from her eyes, Kuina struggled to sit up. In a brief moment of panic she realized that her scabbard was no longer at her hip, only to find that it, and her sword, had been laid out beside her.

“She lives!”

“G’wah?”

A cloaked figure squatted down beside her. Smaller, Kuina realized, than the person who’d knocked her out cold. And a woman. A woman with one of the deepest voices Kuina had ever heard, but a woman nonetheless.

“Who’re...who’re you?” Kuina asked, her words slurring together like she were drunk. Her head pounded as she tried to sit up once more.

“I was wondering the same thing.” The woman paused to light a cigarette, the hood of her cloak protecting it from the rain. Kuina squinted to see her better, the ember of the cigarette illuminating a pleasant round face, dark eyes, and lips that had been painted the color of fresh blood.

The woman exhaled, the smell of smoke briefly cutting through the ocean brine. “How did you find us, little marine?”

“‘m not a marine,” Kuina mumbled.

“Folk around here seem to think you are.”

Kuina told her in anatomically-improbable detail just what she thought of Canary Cove’s opinions.

The woman laughed, took another drag and said, “You have to admit the resemblance is rather striking. If the boss hadn’t seen you two together I might not have believed it. In fact, I still have my doubts.”

She reached beneath her cloak and pulled out Kuina’s mask. “I mean, who would have thought that the good Captain’s right-hand man would have a doppelganger moonlighting as Loguetown’s most feared monster. There are operas with more convincing plotlines than that.”

“Give it back,” Kuina said through gritted teeth. “It’s mine .”

“Oh ho, so you admit to being the Demon of Loguetown?”

Kuina clenched her jaw and didn’t answer.

“Thought so.” The woman flipped Kuina’s mask in the air like it was a frisbee, catching it again before it could hit the ground. “So what brings a bounty hunter here, and on today of all days? Hmn? Was there a hunt you couldn’t refuse? Did someone tell you about a certain ship coming into port?”

She tossed the mask again, but this time Kuina was ready. Quick as a snake she plucked it out of the air, bringing her katana up in the same motion. Kuina was so close she could feel the heat from the woman’s cigarette, the edge of her blade against her neck.

“I said. Give it back .”

From within the depths of her hood, Kuina could see the woman’s eyebrows raise, red lips curling in an amused smile. She was completely relaxed, and that gave Kuina pause.

“I’m a firm believer in letting people do things for themselves,” she said. Without seeming the least bit threatened, she arching her head back, turning her attention somewhere behind her. “Well, boss, what do you think? Should I kill her?”

A second figure emerged from the gloom, and it was a testament to how out of sorts Kuina was that she hadn’t noticed his hulking figure until the moment he decided to reveal himself. It took her confused mind precious moments to recognize him as the man who grabbed her. Kuina scrambled backward, but the woman only laughed, pushing aside her sword with one hand and giving Kuina a hard shove with the other, knocking her flat on the ground.

“That wasn’t necessary,” the man grumbled in a low voice that rumbled like thunder.

His massive shadow fell over Kuina. She knew she should be afraid, but all she could feel within her was anger. She stared into the impenetrable depths of his hood, defiant even in weakness. If they wanted to kill her, the future greatest swordsman in the world, then they were in for a fight.

“Who are you?” Kuina demanded just as a bolt of lightning flashed overhead, as bright and bold as the one that had taken out the execution tower. For that brief moment she could see the face of the man strong enough to throw her like a ragdoll, a man so strong her blade failed to even reach him.

Kuina saw his long, beaky nose, the mass of black hair that fell down past his shoulders and the piercing eyes that seemed to bypass all her defenses. But most of all she noticed the red tattoos criss-crossed down the left side of his face, instantly recognizable even to someone who refused to read the paper.

“ Dragon ,” Kuina said dumbly. “You’re...I don’t...What’s the Revolution doing here? ”

The woman got to her feet to stand by Dragon’s side. “You mean you didn’t know? Then what are you doing stirring up trouble on a night like this? Don’t tell me you were looking for that buffoon with the red nose.”

“ You were the ones who attacked me, ” Kuina said. She pushed herself upright, using her sword clamber to her feet. The motion made the world spin for a moment or two, or maybe that was just her mind trying to catch up with the momentous revelation she just learned.

“That’s not what it looked like from where I stood,” the woman said. She flicked the remnants of her cigarette behind her in disgust. “You would have killed—”

“Betty.”

That one word was enough to stop her rant dead. Dragon took another step forward, and Kuina had to force herself not to step back to accommodate him. Before he could say any more, she pointed out to sea.

“Is that your ship?”

Dragon, the leader of the Revolutionary Army and the most wanted man in the world, tilted his head. It was a strangely human gesture for someone most were convinced was some kind of monster. A real one, not a girl who dressed the part while she was out working.

“Why do you ask?”

Kuina jutted her chin out defiantly. “You do most your business out on the Grand Line, right? I need a ride.”

Betty laughed to her face, but Dragon merely nodded. “All right.”

“I can’t very well ask the idiots here after the fight they started, and Smoker’s got all of Loguetown locked tight. You owe me–wait.” Kuina startled as his words sank in. “You’re serious? I can go with you?”

“The Army doesn’t owe you anything ,” Betty snapped, before imploring her boss, “I know you saw her with that marine girl, but I don’t trust her. She’s a bounty hunter , for god’s sake. It’s bad enough she saw our faces, think of the breach in security—”

“The World Government nearly cut me in half because of you,” Kuina said coldly. “You probably don’t remember, but nine years ago my father gave you aid. I hope it was worth it, because the Government decided to punish us for your crimes.” Her gaze never wavered from his, daring him to try and contradict what she knew to be true. “So before you get all uppity about me ending a fight I didn’t even start, maybe you should ask yourself how much innocent blood you’ve got on your hands first.”

Betty fell silent while Dragon continued to peer down at her. Kuina’s cheeks flushed as years of pent-up resentment and anger and helplessness bubbled to the surface, and no amount of swordsmen training was able to push it back down again. The Revolution was just as bad as the Government as far as she was concerned, fighting in an endless war that hurt more than it helped.

She didn’t care about any of it. She’d spent countless nights wondering what would have happened if her father had just left well enough alone, what it would have looked like if a simple moment of altruism hadn’t torn her life and family apart.

All that mattered now was her ambition. And if Kuina was ever going to become the greatest swordsman in the world she needed to get to the Grand Line, and if she was ever to get to the Grand Line she needed a boat. It didn’t matter to her where that boat came from, as long as she was on it.

Ignoring her long itinerary of aches and pains, Kuina sheathed her sword and picked her tattered backpack off of the ground. “I’m ready to go when you are.”

Dragon inclined his head, and without any further deliberation started walking to his ship, Kuina limping closely behind.

#one piece #One Piece Fanfiction #kuina #wake from death (and return to life)

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