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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 9 months ago

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Chapter 9: Don't Let The Bed Bugs Bite

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you neve expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you're around him the more you hate him, but you can't help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team. (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!) Soldier Boy calls the reader "Petals."

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Not in this chapter), Slow Burn, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Soft Ben/ Soldier Boy, Protective Ben/Soldier Boy

Word Count: 6.7K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), swearing, mentions of sex, sexual innuendo, sexual jokes, sexual tension, Nightmare, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Drowning, Mention of Vomiting, SUPER GROSS SUPERPOWER, Reader is really oblivious, and I mean REALLY oblivious. Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

A/N: This chapter is just really fluffy and I didn't want to keep it to myself, because it makes me so happy. Well, after the first part at least.

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Rain glazed all the sharp edges of the world outside the car, smearing the drops against the windows with a heavy hand. The humid air breathed and iced the glass, but did not disrupt the droplets that raced quickly by, catching and sparkling in the sporadic streetlights along the twisting road.

Your mother was singing softly along to "Nights In White Satin", the haunting melody building with every note, your father's deep baritone weaving with hers to make a wonderful melody in the silence of the night. The smell of rain seeped through the ancient air conditioning, the heady scent of wet earth and clean water filling the cab of your family's car.

You smile to yourself in the backseat, sleepy and content, tracing a single finger against the smudged glass to watch each raindrop race against the fogged glass. You could still taste the chocolate ice cream on the tip of your tongue from the cone your parents have bought you on the way home, your hands and cheeks sticky with the remains. The leather seats of your family car are worn in and soft beneath you from years of family trips all over the United States. There was still a loose marble rolling around back and forth with every gentle rock of the car as it moved smoothly over the wet roads, a comfort when you were a baby and you couldn't sleep and your parents drove around the block to send you into the sweet abyss.

The sharp plunk of rain against the windshield is heavy, but your father reaches to turn up the song on the radio, flicking his eyes to smile at your mother one final time. And as he glances back up he shouts something.

You can't hear what it is, only that when you look out the windshield you see a brilliant flash of white light coming straight for the car and feel the car jerk to the right as your father yanks on the wheel. There's an awful sound of concrete against metal, a high pitched screech that you can't forget followed by the almost inhuman scream of terror that comes from your mother's mouth, as the car breaks through the concrete side of the bridge and goes off the road.

There's an awful moment of weightlessness and when the car hits the water everything goes black.

You jolt upwards out of bed, screaming at the top of your lungs, chest heaving and gasping for air as the memory of water filling your lungs floors your senses. You shudder involuntarily, rocking back and forth as you try to shake off the memory of your parent's death.

No one really knew what happened that night, what the bright light was that you saw or where it came from. The detective said that it had to be lightning, but it hadn't looked like lightning to you. Your parents had drowned inside, but you survived. When the police arrived on the scene of the crash they found you on the bank of the river with the branches of the trees forming a protective cage around you. The back windshield of the car had been completely destroyed, blown inward when the trees along the bank had reached in to pull you out.

You always thought it was funny that somewhere deep down your powers took over, you weren’t sure if it was when you blacked out or if you somehow forgot what happened in your parent's final moments, but all you knew was that you were alive because you called out for help and the trees answered.

A part of you still felt guilty. It had been your fault that you were out. There was a music recital at school, they'd come to support you, Darren had stayed home too busy doing homework to care. He was taking courses at the local community college, too involved in his own life to pay any attention to yours, except when he needed you. You weren't sure why the trees hadn't saved them too, why you were the only survivor.

You reach for your bedside table, scrambling in the darkness to find the inhaler that usually helps, before finally putting it to your lips and taking in a long puff. It helps for a moment. Your heart was still beating fast, a cold sweat making your sleep shirt stick to your back, as another involuntary shudder works through your body, the sound of your mother's scream ringing in your ears.

You press your face into your knees trying to calm your breathing when your bedroom door snaps in half. Pieces of the door shoot through the air like shrapnel as Ben appears in the doorway, shirtless, wearing only a pair of black sweatpants holding one of the lamps from your living room.

"Ben what the fuck?" You scream, heart already feeling like it was going to burst out of your chest.

"What happened? What's going on? Why did you scream?" He shouts back, eyes darting around the room as if looking for invisible intruders.

"Get out of my room!" You shout.

"Not until you tell me what's going on." Ben's eyes fall on you once more and you watch the tension in his shoulders drop an inch. "Are you okay?"

"Yes." You lie taking in a deep breath, hoping that you can calm down your heart beat and that he's not paying attention to that.

He was.

"No, you’re not."

"Yes I am." You didn’t feel like doing this with him, didn’t feel like telling him exactly why you'd just woken up screaming or deal with him teasing you.

It had been a few days since the party and you had been trying your best to make things as normal between the two of you as you could, especially after you'd yelled at him. It had been more awkward the day after, not because of what you said to him, but because of what he yelled at you after the supe got away. He hadn't come back to the apartment until after you'd gone to bed and when you woke up on Sunday morning, Ben had gotten you coffee again when he went out to get a newspaper.

You figured that was his way of apologizing for yelling at you. That and he had insisted on walking to "Please Don't Die" with you on Monday and Tuesday morning, as if he thought that you were incapable of doing it yourself and then showed up when you got out of work at 5 to walk you back home. You didn't know how he figured out what time you got off of work, only that when he showed up to get you on Monday, he glared at Jake who was debating with you about which of Rory Gilmore's love interests was the best.

Jake had watched a few episodes with his younger sister when she visited him a few weeks ago to tour some of the colleges in New York, and she'd gotten him hooked. Annie and you had watched Gilmore Girls forever ago, but you'd started watching a few episodes now that it was fall and that meant you were being reminded of how much you obsessed over the show when you were younger.

Ben had stood there watching the two of you, noticing how close Jake was standing to you and how Jake seemed to smile even wider and how Jake spoke animatedly to you over the display of cactus all the while frowning and glaring daggers in the back of Jake's head.

You'd be lying if you said that you weren't reconsidering dating Jake. Ben had made it clear what he wanted and despite how much you were attracted to him, you knew that he didn't want to be what you wanted, and you didn't want to force Ben into something or try to turn him into something he wasn't. So you were trying to think about what it would be like dating Jake. He definitely had the kind of qualities you were looking for, he was one for relationships, he had the same sense of humor you did, he liked plants almost as much as you, he was kind and compassionate, and he had a warm smile.

The problem was you couldn't imagine what it would be like to date him and for some reason the thought of dating Jake didn't bring you as much joy as it would have a few weeks ago, and you had no idea why that was.

You also didn't know why Ben came to pick you up or forced himself to walk with you to work, especially if he hated Jake so much and hated being around Jake, but Ben did, and then bought you a cup of pineapple iced tea from your favorite shop around the corner from your apartment on the way home even though you insisted on paying for yourself. He thought that pineapple iced tea sounded disgusting, but because you liked proving him wrong, you'd let him have a sip and he'd grudgingly agreed that it wasn't "that bad," but then took another sip of it when you put it down on the kitchen counter for a second to pet Bean when he thought you weren't looking.

Honestly you didn't understand why he was so eager to walk with you to work or why he wanted to walk you back to the apartment. Not when Ben seemed to fill his life and all his time endless dates with the women of New York City, something that you noticed he hadn't done in the past three days since the party. You always figured he had better things to do than walk with you, and yet he had making somewhat pleasant conversation, well, pleasant for Ben which was not the same as pleasant for other people. But it wasn't terrible. He did occasionally tease you because you couldn't walk past a wilting plant without perking it up, but that was to be expected.

"No, you're not." Ben put the lamp down on the floor by your door. It didn’t have it's shade on it anymore and you figured that Ben had ripped it from the living room table when he heard you scream, throwing the shade to the floor when he kicked down your bedroom door.

The same door that was lying in pieces on the hardwood floor of your bedroom.

How am I going to explain that to the super?

"Yes-" You gasp for air and shove the inhaler in your mouth again to take another puff and this time it takes. "I am." You finish, swiping your free hand over your face to rid yourself of the tears, but for some reason they won't stop. "Please, Ben just go-" Your voice breaks for a moment and you bury your face into your knees again.

You really wanted him to go, didn't want to talk to him about this, didn't feel like putting up with his teasing or with his disgusting jokes, and didn't want him to make fun of you for using an inhaler, the same one you'd had prescribed by your doctor when he told you that your nightmares were causing panic attacks. You didn’t have to use it all the time, just when you had the dreams.

You feel the end of your bed dip and you glance up from your knees at Ben. He's sitting there, not quite looking at you, instead he's petting Bean where he was guarding over you as you slept.

"You don't have to talk to me if you don't want to, but I don't want to leave you when you're like this Petals." He says it more to the cat than to you, barely audible. Bean was leaning into Ben's hand as if Ben being in your bedroom, sitting on your bed was normal.

You suddenly feel like you’ve been struck by lightning. What he said was so honest so caring so completely unlike the Ben you knew that all you could do was stare at him. If anything the shock of what he said seemed to help you regulate your breathing and calm down from the images you had just seen in your nightmare.

Ben doesn’t say anything, just continues to rub Bean under his chin, sitting on the end of your bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world and as if he hasn’t said anything at all.

You stare at him for longer than you should, tracing the dips of his broad shoulders, the gentle freckles that graces his skin, and muscles as the taper down his back. You’d seen him shirtless before, but every time you’re unprepared for how good he looks.

Right now he looks, different. He looks softer.

You’re not sure if it’s because of the yellowed light from your bedside table lamp or if it’s because he’s petting Bean, but there's something about him that feels more open, as if he genuinely cares, and it makes you want to talk to him. You sit there for another few minutes calming your breathing, still holding on to your knees, but you prop your chin on your knee so you can look at him.

Why won't he leave? Why does he care so much that he wants to stay here?

Bean stands and saunters up the bed to press his head into your shin as if he's checking up on you. "Hey buddy." You whisper hoarsely, rubbing him behind his ears.

Ben turns his body, folding one of his legs under him and the other hangs off your bed so that his bare foot is sitting on the hardwood floor of your bedroom. He's watching you with an unreadable expression, eyes following the trail of your hand on Bean's back, but Ben does not break the silence.

"I have nightmares sometimes." You whisper. Bean's thick gray fur was falling through your fingertips in a comforting way, his luminous amber colored eyes looking up at you. "But I'm okay."

Ben still doesn't say anything.

The high pitched ring of the metal of the car on concrete makes you wince and he doesn't miss it. You watch his hand twitch as if he wants to touch you, but instead he lays it on the bed between the two of you, sinking into the soft comforter.

"I've never heard you scream like that before." Ben murmurs under his breath. "I thought that-"

You glance up at him, eyes wide.

He runs a hand through his hair nervously, as if he's uncomfortable continuing the conversation. "I thought that the supe was in here with you."

"The electric guy?"

Ben nods once.

"No I don't think he's in here. Unless he's hiding under the bed or something." You smile weakly at the joke, but you can still feel the jolt of the car hitting the water and the sharp snap of the seatbelt cutting into your chest. This time you successfully fight the shudder.

Ben doesn't smile. "The nightmares aren't about him are they? Or when I-" He stops mid sentence eyes flicking away from you, ashamed.

You understood what he was asking. Ben and you, like any modern day meet cute, had met mid-fight, the night that Butcher took him to Vought to take down Homelander. Back then you hadn't been working for Butcher, you'd showed up with Annie, and when Ben advanced on her you'd shoved Annie out of the way from his outstretched hands.

You hadn't been fast enough to escape yourself and he had hauled you up into the air by your throat, his chest glowing a dangerous orange spreading up through his skin until it turned his eyes a molten gold. Your hands had held on to his wrists so tight that you felt like your skin was burning and you were desperately trying to think of a way out of this. But just as you thought he was going to explode, his eyes had locked on yours and you watched something move through them that wasn’t rage. Ben had thrown you across the room and gone after Butcher instead.

"Is that why you didn't want me to move in?" Ben's gaze is on you, something deep buried in his eyes that looks a lot like regret. "Because you're afraid of me? Because I hurt you?”

“Ben, no. I’m not afraid of you.” You touch his hand where it rests on the bed gently. He had hurt you. The bruising around your neck for the few weeks that followed was ugly and had to be covered up with turtlenecks and foundation to avoid people on the street asking you if you needed help.

But it hurt you more to know that he thought that you were afraid of him and that he worried about that. Because you weren’t afraid of Ben. Yes he lost his temper and would yell very loudly and always felt the need to scream his opinion to the world, but you didn’t think that he was a bad guy despite what he had done. If you had been afraid of him then you wouldn’t have let him stay with you in your apartment, let alone live with your cat.

He looks relieved when you say it. “Then what are they about?”

“I-“ You swallow, before dropping your gaze back to your knees. You retract your hand, but Ben turns his over, palm up and gently holds yours, not quite squeezing it, just laying beneath yours.

What in the actual fuck is happening?

You glance down at where he’s holding your hand, the warmth from his body comforting like the first day of summer, seeping through your body as it does to take away the chill the nightmare left behind. It seemed a little awkward for him, as if he wasn't sure what to do now that your hand was laying on top of his. He wasn't even entwining your fingertips together, but your fingers just barely curved over the thick muscle at the base of his thumb. His hand was bigger than yours, rough and worn in just the right places.

“It’s about my parents.” The words feel like cotton in your mouth. “The night they died.”

"Oh."

You bite the inside of your cheek. You weren't sure that you wanted to talk to him about this. You'd never wanted to talk to anyone about it. The only person you'd ever spoken about it with outside of your family was Annie. But he was here, and he was looking at you differently, and he was actually holding your hand, sort of, and he was acting so different than any time you'd spent together.

"I was twelve. It was raining and we were coming home from a music recital." You couldn't remember what it was you sang, just remember the people coming up to congratulate you and the large bundle of gardenias that your parents had bought you. "My dad was driving and they were singing in the front seat together."

You felt the tears begin to build behind your eyes, throat closing. You can't really look up at him now, all you do is stare at where his hand sits under yours. " We were crossing over a bridge and there was this brilliant flash of light, my dad swerved and the car went off the road."

Ben's hand finally curls around yours. "You were in the car?" His voice is lower now, emotion lacing his words.

You nod once. "In the backseat." You whisper. "I can't really remember what happened after we hit the water, all I know is that the trees saved me."

"What?"

"I don't know if I somehow called to them as I was drowning, but they broke through the back windshield and pulled me out of the car, but my parents-" Your voice breaks and you don't try to finish the sentence.

Why am I telling him this? He doesn't care. All he wants is-

"I'm sorry." Ben murmurs, interrupting your chain of thought, sounding sincere.

You shrug. "I'm sorry I woke you up."

Ben raises his free hand to tilt your chin up to face him, and you quickly get lost in the greenish glow that draws you in each time he looks at you. "Don't be sorry for that y/n. I'd rather be wrong and you be okay, than sleep through you screaming like that." Ben swallows. "I didn't like it." You watch the ends of his lips twitch for a second and he smiles. "And we both know how much I like to hear women scream my name.”

Despite the conversation you'd have previously, you snort and smile faintly. "Have you always been like this? Or is it a recent development?"

Ben shrugs, thumb rubbing just barely over your cheekbone. "I like to think of myself as charming."

"Of course you do."

"You don't think I'm charming Petals?"

"Nope."

"Still a bad liar." He laughs releasing your jaw to gently touch the scrunched skin between your eyebrows that gave away your lie.

"I don't really think you're that great at lying either." You roll your eyes, swatting away his hand. "At least I can pretend to like people."

"I can pretend to like people-"

"Oh really? Then what about Jake."

At the mention of Jake's name, Ben frowns.

"See!" You smile wide. "I don't understand why you don't like him."

"He's annoying. No one is that happy Petals. He’s probably been drinking the Koolaid for too long and is trying to get you to join a cult. The pussy is practically part golden retriever." Ben rolls his eyes, but then notices you yawn. "I should go." He stands, letting go of your hand as he does. "You need your beauty sleep."

You fight the disappointment that blooms in your chest as he lets go and the immediate loss that comes when he lets go of you scares you. You're afraid of how you seem to be so attached to him, to someone who has told you countless times he doesn't want a relationship, doesn't believe that you need a strong emotional connection with someone else, and someone who said that the only thing he wanted from a woman was to fuck them. That last part stung a bit. You remember when he said it to you, when you were looking over the map at the other apartment last week.

But why would he say something like that and act like this with me? Why did he come in here to save me from the supe?

"I think you could use some beauty sleep too Gramps. Without it, you look your age. Can't hide all those wrinkles under make-up." You half-smile when Ben sighs, before you pull your hands into your lap and cross your legs beneath you. "But, thanks for-well- making sure that no one was murdering me."

"It's what roommates are for." Ben pauses in the doorway before he leaves, the light from the hallway reflecting off the strong muscles of his upper back. His body sways, considering if he should say what he's about to. "I -uh- I get them too." He whispers it.

"What?"

"Nightmares." You see the tension in his shoulders, the word muttered almost like a curse, as if he doesn't really want to admit that.

Your body freezes. "About the lab?"

He looks down and you take that as a yes.

You could only imagine what that was like for him, to be trapped in another country, thinking every day that someone he thought he loved would come find him, but then never did. Again the idea of what Countess did to him, burns hot in your chest. It broke you to think that Ben spent all that time wishing and hoping that she would come for him. You would have. You would have fought tooth and nail to find the man you loved, even if it meant you getting trapped in the process. Not trying wasn't an option in your mind.

Honestly, it was difficult not to come up behind him and hug him, to hold him close and let him know that it was okay to break, that it was okay for him to admit those things with you, and that it didn't make you see him as less than a man. But of course that seemed more like a relationship thing than a friendship thing, not to mention you thought if you tried to do that, Ben would probably somehow get you in the same position you were three days ago when he pinned you against the car with his warm body pressed against you in all the right places and his beard tickling against the sensitive skin of your neck. And that would only send the two of you reeling back to square one, and you thought that in the past three days things seemed to be better between the two of you, more casual and more friendly.

You didn't want to ruin that when you'd practically embarrassed yourself at the party by yelling at Ben outside. So you stay in your bed, your legs still underneath your comforter, your heart no longer pounding in your chest, and your breathing even.

"Well," You say slowly. "If you have one, you know where to find me."

He glances over his shoulder at you, eyes a little wider than usual and you think that he almost looks surprised. Ben nods once and vanishes down the dark hallway going back out to your living room.

You lie back in your bed, placing your inhaler on your bedside before you do, eyes focused on the ceiling and trying not to think about how good it felt to finally talk like two normal people with Ben and trying not to think about how he let you hold on to his hand.

You drag yourself through the front door of your apartment, exhausted, sweaty, and feeling like you'd swum through a dumpster that had been sitting in the sun for a week. You knew for a fact that you smelled, you didn't need super senses for that. The look of the people that lined the sidewalks of New York while you squished down the sidewalk and up into your apartment building was enough of a clue. Everyone had given you a wide berth and you didn’t blame them. MM even rolled down the window of his car when he drove you back. And he’d made you change your clothes into a set of gym shorts and a t-shirt that reached your knees and proudly proclaimed “I love you daddy” on it.

Yeah. It was that kind of day.

MM also made you sit with a plastic bag over your head to avoid smearing the remnants of the supe that was matted in your hair onto his seats.

When you woke up to answer your phone this morning, that was blasting the UK's national anthem aka. Butcher's ringtone, you knew that your day was going to suck. He had proclaimed over the phone loudly, because Mike had already started to screech Beyonce's "Love On Top,” that he needed you to deal with a supe. You thought that he was going to send you after the electric supe, but no, he and MM had caught a whiff of a supe that was robbing banks with his ability to liquify and turn his body into an tomato colored gelatinous mass.

I know, lovely right?

But of course, Butcher had decided that you were the one for the job and so he sent MM and you, while Ben was assigned to something else on the other side of town. The mission had gone wrong in the worst way, when the supe decided that the only way to fight you was to try and drown you in his liquified flesh, bone, and sinew.

When you'd finally scattered his body in the Hudson, you'd vomited for ten minutes, trying to expel as much of the supe as you could, but you still felt disgusting. MM had tried to be supportive, but the sight of you vomiting sent him hurtling to the nearest trashcan while his own stomach heaved. Not to mention Butcher had chewed out the both of you good for technically "killing the supe."

But you'd rather the supe died than have to go through that ordeal all over again.

You'd tried to get as much of the orangey-red goo off of your body as possible, but it stained your clothes, so you had to walk through New York city looking like a giant bucket of paint was dropped on you and feeling sticky.

You turn around and lean your forehead against the front door with a loud sigh, trying to catch your bearings before you attempt to make it to the bathroom. You were happy that Mike hadn’t come out of his apartment. You didn’t want to have to explain to him why you looked like you’d taken a bath in tomato soup. Every few minutes you'd get a whiff of yourself and feel the urge to throw up all over again, living in the moment of the supe trying to shove his liquified body down your throat.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Ben asks from the charcoal couch, a blunt perched between his lips.

The living room had already started to look like his bedroom back at the other apartment, pieces of his dirty clothing were spread over your hardwood floors, old beer bottles were sitting on your coffee table, and there was a collection of half-smoked blunts in a large ceramic pot that you were letting Ben use as an ashtray. The room was still yours though. The plants on the walls and in pots around the space had not been harmed by Ben's habitation of your apartment. You wondered if that was because Ben actually was trying to respect your rules or if he was afraid you would throw him out.

I'm going to buy him a hamper. The last thing I want is to step on his dirty underwear on my way into the kitchen.

"The next time Butcher calls, tell him I died." You groan moving into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water.

He turns his head to stare at you. "Is that paint?"

"Nope." You shudder taking a sip from the water bottle, swishing it around your mouth to wash out the taste.

"Then what is it?"

"It's the supe. He was disgusting." You shudder and take another sip of water. It was helping a little bit, but you eat a handful of raspberries to try and get rid of the aftertaste. "I can still taste him."

Ben smirks. "You can still taste him? What part of him did you put in your mouth?"

"Don't be disgusting." You groan. "His power was liquification, okay, he could liquify his entire body-"

"Did you swallow?" He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

"This is why we don't talk." You narrow your eyes at Ben. "He liquified himself and tried to drown me by shoving himself down my throat."

"Drown you?" Ben sits up straighter. "Are you okay?" You watch something shift through his gaze that looks a lot like worry.

Why is he worried?

"I'm fine." You hold up a hand and watch him relax and take a hit from the blunt. "But worst superpower ever."

"I don't know, kinda sounds like a fun way to get to know someone-"

"He was an idiot. He thought that whatever he lost would replenish."

"Wait what?"

"Whatever he 'drowned' me with didn't reform on his body. So he shoved himself down my esophagus and then he couldn't figure out why he was missing a hand, didn't think about stomach acid. Idiot." You roll your eyes. "But we couldn't contain him and the only thing that I could think of was to dump him in the Hudson. He wasn't strong enough to keep himself together in the current of the bay, it’s gonna take him centuries to piece himself back together." You shake your head. "What have you been doing? I thought you had a hot Tinder date or whatever."

He'd mentioned it this morning when you saw him briefly and grabbed a granola bar on the way out of the apartment. You hadn't spoke much since last night or really had time to talk about what happened, if anything did happen. All he did was let you hold his hand and -well- kick down your mother fucking door.

You weren't looking forward to sleeping without a door, it was the only thing that separated Ben and you, the only thing that gave you a little privacy. You figured that you could just hang one of the crocheted blankets over the doorway, but you were exhausted.

Ben shrugs, letting out a lungful of smoke. "Thought I'd just relax tonight. Didn't feel like going out."

"You didn't feel like going out? Mr. Casual-?" You begin to say, eyes sweeping through the apartment and looking down the dark hallway, stopping on your bedroom doorway.

Instead of the broken mess it was this morning, a new door has replaced it. It's a beautiful dark red wood that matches the floors that run through your apartment, different than the white one that had been there previously.

"Mr. Casual?" Ben asks while raising an eyebrow, clearly confused.

You were going to call him 'Mr. Casual Sex' but you couldn't finish the thought. "Did you fix my door?"

"Huh?"

"My door." You point down the hallway, eyes shifting back to Ben, who looks suddenly uncomfortable. "The one you broke in half."

"Yeah- uh- I know how much you like your privacy." Ben grunts looking back at the flat screen tv. There was a baseball game on, but the T.V was on mute, the blue light flickering around the small room.

You suddenly have the overwhelming urge to cry. You figured that it was everything from today crashing down on you, the frustration you had with the supe, the smell, and now Ben was actually doing something nice for you.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He still doesn’t look at you and you wonder if he's embarrassed that you pointed it out.

“Well I think I’m going to try to scrub whatever the hell this is off of me.” You say as you begin to walk down the dark hallway and Ben continues to watch the game.

“Wait Petals I’ve got something important to ask you.”

You look up at him expectantly.

“How much do you love your daddy?” His smile slips into a suggestive smirk. “Would you be willing to do anything to keep him happy?”

“Shut up Gramps.” You flip him off and squish down the hallway to the bathroom.

When you get out of the shower you're missing several layers of skin. You'd scrubbed and scrubbed until you felt red and raw, but it was better than feeling the sticky remains of the supe all over your body. The clothes you wore were ruined and there was no saving them, but at least now you felt better.

You walk back out into the kitchen wearing a soft t-shirt and sweatpants. Ben was still sitting on the couch, but the blunt was gone. You hadn’t noticed before that his dark hair was wet, as if he had taken a shower before you got to the apartment, the smell of his shampoo was strong.

"There's pizza in the fridge." Ben glances over the back of the couch. "Much better Petals, orange is not your color. But I will say I miss the t-shirt.”

"I'm just happy that it didn't permanently stain my skin." You make your way to the fridge to pull out a slice of pizza, eating it slowly. "And very happy I didn't wear my favorite pair of jeans. I'm going to have to burn my clothes I think."

"I'm just happy you smell better." He wrinkles his nose. "Before you smelled like unwashed gym clothes and a fucking yeast infection."

"Thank you for that lovely comparison."

"You're welcome Petals." Ben presses his lips together. "Did you want to-" He pauses. "Watch a movie or something?"

"Oh, um-" You glance down the hallway. You really wanted to curl up with your newest romance novel under your covers and relax, possibly with a cup of calming blueberry tea.

Ben shakes his head. "Just fucking forget it-" He almost seemed angry with himself for suggesting something like that.

"Ben no. I do want to watch a movie with you, I just-" Your eyes flick to the t.v watching one of the baseball players hits a home run. "I kinda wanted to relax with some tea and read. I just got a new book and I haven't been able to start it yet. Annie and I are reading the same one and on Friday we're gonna have book club and I really need to decompress from everything that happened today." You say it gently, trying to let him understand that you wouldn't be opposed to the idea of watching something with him.

"Oh." Ben sits there for a moment considering what you said. "Well, do you want to sit out here? I know you don't exactly-" He clears his throat. "Have a place to sit in your bedroom."

If Ben wasn’t living with you, you would be reading on the couch. Sitting in your living room surrounded by all of you plants always helped you relax. You hadn’t been able to do that since Ben moved in, not to mention you didn't want to encroach on his space.

“I mean if you’re watching T.V I don’t want to disturb you or anything-“ As soon as you say it, Ben hits the off button on the remote.

“I didn’t get to read the paper this morning and I’ve been trying to find the time all day.” He says, pulling the folded newspaper out from where it was folded and pushed up against the arm of the couch on his right side.

“Oh. Well. Um-“ You didn’t see anything wrong with sitting out here and reading with Ben. “Okay. I’ll just grab my book then.”

“Okay.” Ben breezes, before he glances at the left side of the couch where you would be sitting. The couch was in its upright position, which means it was more couch than bed, but Ben had stacked his blankets and pillows on the other side. “I’ll move my stuff.”

“Okay.” You say again because you weren’t really sure what to say.

You go back and grab the book from your bedside table, but stop just short of the door.

This is weird.

You think to yourself, holding the book tightly by its spine. You weren’t sure what was happening only that Ben and you were going to sit together on the couch in your living room quietly with no tv. And weirder still it was him that suggested you two do it.

He turned off the tv. He asked me to sit with him and suggested something non-sexual. You pause shifting from foot to foot. Because again Ben was confusing you. He was acting like the person you'd occasionally see when it was just the two of you, and it made you anxious. You didn’t want him to do this, to pretend to be someone you wanted just to get into your pants. It was like whiplash. Not to mention you didn't want Ben to force himself to change just for you.

Maybe… Maybe I can just go out there and pretend that this is normal and that he doesn’t just use women for sex like he told me. I will not overthink this. I will sit and read just like I planned.

You come out of your bedroom armed with your favorite crocheted granny-square blanket and the new book. Ben had cleared the left side of the sofa for you as he said he would and was now sitting with his newspaper spread out in front of him, one leg crossed over the other.

“Do you want some tea?” You ask him. You were just being polite, you knew that he would probably say no.

“Pineapple?” He actually kind of perked up as if he would have some if you made it.

“No it’s blueberry.”

Ben shakes his head. “Why do you like so many fruit teas?”

“Because they’re good and they enrich my life.” You snort before placing the book and the blanket on the couch next to Ben and go through the motions of making the tea. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“You’d be right. But could you pour me a glass of scotch?”

“Sure.”

When you’re finally hunkered down with your book and blanket, legs bent at the knee between the two of you, the book propped up on them, facing Ben with the right side of your head laying against the back of the couch, you feel yourself begin to relax. Bean is sleeping in a ball between the two of you. His soft breathing and the sound of pages being turned fills your apartment. The subtle thrum of the plants in the room soaks into your bones and you feel yourself begin to slip into the soft prose and for the first time in a long time you feel at peace.

A/N: Annnnnddddd we're just gonna keep the Sky High References coming. Maybe the next supe they meet will glow… or turn into a guinea pig? 😅 Is it wrong that it's kinda making me want to do a Superhero High School AU with the Boys characters? That would be so crazy! I already have several other series fic ideas for Soldier Boy, but that idea is definitely going on the list to be considered.

As always thank you so much for reading and all the love and support! If you would like to be added to my taglist please let me know! 😊

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @corruptedcruiser @winchesterwild78 @the-super-who-locked-wizard

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@faephoria @possiblyafangirl @jqtaro @quietlybitchy @tinydancer40

@roger-that-cap @megara0224 @miskwaadesiwag @rainyeggvoidpurse

@soldiergrimes @tiffsbagels @podiumackles

@ifyouwerethemoon @ririshkin @peachhiz @fitxgrld @sukunassfinger

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#soldier boy x you #soldier boy x reader #jensen ackles #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x y/n #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy/ben #the boys amazon #the boys fanfic #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy fic #the boys

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just1cefor4ll · 4 months ago

Text

—You’re the type of person they write rock songs about

modern!au Viktor x fem!reader warning. not proof read,

part seven || part eight || epilogue

A/N. ugh only one more chapter :(( i love how this turned out tho so its okay :D

‘From the day you arrived,

I’ve remained by your side

In chains, entombed.’

Viktor didn’t sleep at all. He had tried—closing his eyes, shifting positions, even pulling the blankets over his head in frustration—but his mind refused to quiet down. Every time he thought he might finally drift off, the same thoughts dragged him back under, looping over and over until exhaustion settled deep in his bones. By the time his alarm clock read 5 AM, he gave up entirely. There was no point in fighting it anymore. Moving sluggishly, he sat up and rubbed his eyes, lingering in the silence of his dimly lit dorm before deciding to just get ready for the day. Maybe keeping busy would help, or at the very least, keep him from thinking too much.

He was halfway through pulling on a sweater when his phone buzzed.

His breath caught. His pulse jumped. Was it you?

Without a second thought, he reached for his phone, nearly knocking it off the bed in his rush. But as soon as he saw the screen, the anticipation drained from his face.

Just the group chat. His friends, awake at an ungodly hour, spamming messages back and forth.

Viktor let out a slow breath, staring at the screen for a moment before opening the messages. He shouldn’t be this disappointed. He shouldn’t have expected anything in the first place.

But he did.

——————————————————————————

[j.talis] Vi did you hear Y/n and the others are playing at your dads bar tonight?

[losttvi] No way… it’s almost like….. he’s my dad.. and… hold up a REAL shocker… powder is my sister?!?!?! who is apart of the group?!?!?! and they tell me these kinds of things…..?!?!?!!?

[j.talis] LMAOAOAOA

[j.talis] jump.

[mmedarda] its 5:17 AM can we not start this rn?

[vik.tor222] agreed

[losttvi] WELL WELL WELL

[j.talis] LOOK WHO THE CAT DRAGGED IN

[mmedarda] and suddenly they’re besties again

[vik.tor222] .

[j.talis] where have you been man? you haven’t updated us in like 2 days

[vik.tor222] nothing’s up, ive just been busy

[losttvi] busy cuddling with y/n haha

[j.talis] WHAT

[vik.tor222] im not even gonna ask how you know that

[mmedarda] spoiler alert: powder

[j.talis] AND?? WHAT HAPPENED AFTER?????

[vik.tor222] I went to my dorm when Powder got back anddd I confessed

[mmedarada] viktor..

[losttvi] HAHAHHAHAHA nice joke, but I don’t like jokes

[j.talis] wait you fr confessed?

[vik.tor222] why is that so hard to believe???

[mmedarda] maybe because the both of you have been blindly dancing around each other for WEEKS?? maybe even months?

[j.talis] ^^

[losttvi] ^^

[vik.tor222] okay what were you even talking about? her and the others playing a show?

[losttvi] yh powder told me yesterday that we should come

[mmedarda] sounds fun, after this week i really need to get away from campus

[j.talis] ugh same

[losttvi] where does this man get this attitude from

[mmedarda] no idea.

[losttvi] okay anyway losers i need to go get ready, meet at our usual spot at 8

[mmedarda] okayy :))

[j.talis] kk

[vik.tor222] alright

——————————————————————————

Viktor walked to the usual meetup spot, adjusting the strap of his bag as he went. His thoughts were a mess, tangled up in the unread message sitting in his phone. Jayce was already there, leaning against a bench, scrolling through something that made him snort. Vi showed up a minute later, hands shoved into her pockets, moving like she had nowhere important to be. Mel arrived last, perfectly put together as always, sipping her coffee like she wasn’t about to walk into an 8 AM class.

"Alright, we ready to go?" Jayce asked, tucking his phone away as they started walking toward their first lecture.

Viktor wasn’t really listening to whatever conversation was happening around him. His mind kept circling back to last night. He’d stared at his screen for what felt like an eternity before finally sending the message. ‘I love you rockstar.’ Then he’d stayed awake far too long, watching for a response that never came. And now, hours later, still nothing.

Jayce nudged him, dragging him back to the present. “You’re awfully quiet. You die inside overnight?”

Vi smirked. “Nah, he’s just in crisis mode. Y/N still hasn’t responded, huh?”

Viktor sighed, rubbing at his temple. “No.”

Mel hummed. “She probably just hasn’t seen it yet.”

“Or she’s thinking,” Jayce added. “That’s a good sign, right?”

“Or she’s ignoring him,” Vi said, grinning when Viktor groaned. “Kidding. Probably.”

The conversation moved on, but Viktor couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling in his stomach. The day dragged. His classes, usually something he could lose himself in, felt twice as long. His engineering problem set was a disaster of half-finished equations, his physics lecture went in one ear and out the other, and every spare second between classes was spent checking his phone. Nothing.

By dinner, he felt like a frayed wire, running on caffeine and anxiety. He picked at his food while the others ate, barely listening. Vi elbowed him at one point.

"You keep looking at your phone like that, people are gonna think you’re waiting for a text from your mom.”

Viktor exhaled a weak laugh. “Maybe she’s the one rejecting me.”

Mel sighed. “It’s not a rejection until she says no.”

Jayce nodded. “And tonight’s your chance to talk to her.”

Right. The show. He’d been so wrapped up in overthinking that he hadn’t considered the fact that he’d be seeing you in person. The realization made his stomach flip. What if you acted normal? What if you pretended like he hadn’t said anything? Or worse—what if you avoided him?

“Let’s go,” Vi said, standing up and stretching. “Doors open soon. You ready, lover boy?”

Viktor groaned, dragging a hand down his face. He wasn’t ready at all. But there was no backing out now.

The bar was already full of energy by the time they got there. The low hum of conversation mixed with the distant sound of the band setting up on stage. Vi led the way through the crowd with practiced ease, Jayce close behind her. Mel walked like she belonged anywhere, unfazed by the dim lighting and the heavy bass from the speakers. Viktor, on the other hand, felt like his nerves were going to eat him alive.

He spotted you almost immediately. You were on stage, tuning your guitar, fingers moving over the strings with effortless precision. His stomach did something unpleasant at the sight—something between excitement and absolute dread.

“You gonna go say hi?” Jayce asked, following his gaze.

Viktor swallowed. “I—”

Before he could come up with an excuse, Powder spotted them from behind her mic stand. “Hey! You guys made it!” She waved, then nudged Ekko, who gave them a lazy salute from where he was setting up his bass.

And then—because fate was clearly cruel—you looked up. Your gaze landed on the group, and for one painfully long second, Viktor swore you were looking right at him.

Then, just as quickly, you looked away.

“Damn,” Vi muttered under her breath, catching the moment. “That’s rough, buddy.” Viktor exhaled sharply. “Thank you, Vi. Very helpful.” Jayce clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe she’s just focused on the show.” Mel studied Viktor’s expression, then said, “Or maybe you should stop assuming the worst and wait until she actually talks to you.”

That was easy for her to say. She wasn’t the one standing here, feeling like an exposed wire sparking under too much pressure.

The lights dimmed slightly, signaling that the show was about to start. People around them started cheering, moving closer to the stage.

Powder tapped the mic once, then leaned in with a playful “Hello?” Her voice echoed through the speakers, and she chuckled before straightening up. “Alright, let’s try that again—hello, everyone!”

The crowd responded with cheers, and she grinned. “Tonight’s a little different. Special, even. And why, you ask? Because I’m handing over the mic—for a song, at least.” She shot a glance over her shoulder before turning back to the audience. “You’ve heard them before, but only through the six strings of a guitar that could probably set this place on fire if it wanted to. But tonight, they’re stepping up in a new way. Give it up for Y/N!”

The room erupted into cheers as you stepped forward, guitar slung over your shoulder. You adjusted the strap before approaching the mic, fingers idly running over the strings as you tested the tuning. The familiar weight of the instrument steadied you, the energy of the crowd buzzing around you like electricity in the air.

You gave a small nod to the band, and in the next breath, your fingers moved, pulling the first notes from the strings. The sound rang through the bar, rich and steady, the kind that made people stop mid-conversation just to listen. The crowd quieted just enough to catch the shift in atmosphere, anticipation thick in the air. The sound of your guitar lowered just a bit— but you were still playing as you started to speak. “This song is dedicated to a special someone who has made me feel special over the past few months.. and last night they really won my heart.” You smile, making eye contact with Viktor who could only blindly stare while his friends squealed like teenage girls at your words.

“And I’d give up forever to touch you.”

“Cause I know that you feel me somehow.”

“You’re the closest thing to heaven that I’ll ever be.”

“And I don’t want to go home right now.”

Your voice rang through the bar, strong and steady, weaving through the melody like a heartbeat. The song was yours—every chord, every lyric. And somehow, every note felt like a direct line to Viktor, like you were speaking to him in a language only the two of you understood.

The crowd swayed, caught in the moment, but Viktor sat frozen. His heart was in his throat, his mind barely able to keep up. He had spent the entire day convinced he had ruined everything, that maybe he had overstepped, that maybe you didn’t feel the same way.

But now? Now, you were standing under the stage lights, singing to him.

Jayce let out something between a laugh and a gasp, smacking Viktor’s shoulder hard enough to jolt him. “Dude, are you breathing?” Vi had both hands in her hair, grinning like she was watching a scene straight out of a movie. “Oh, this is insane. You’re actually winning right now.” Mel simply smirked. “And to think, you spent the whole day suffering.”

Viktor barely registered them. His entire world had narrowed down to you.

And then you looked at him. It wasn’t fleeting. It wasn’t just scanning the crowd. It was intentional. Direct. Like you were making sure he knew.

And just when he thought he couldn’t take any more, you smiled. A real, soft smile, like you knew exactly what this was doing to him.

“And I don’t want the world to see me.”

“Cause I don’t thinks that they’d understand.”

“When everything’s made to be broken.”

“I just want you to know who I am.”

Viktor felt something in his chest pull tight, so overwhelming it almost hurt. His pulse was a hammer against his ribs, his fingers twitching at his sides, his entire body struggling to process the fact that this was real.

The song carried on, the melody washing over him, and for the first time all day, the weight in his chest lifted.

You had answered him.

Loud and clear.

As the song came to an end and the rest of the set ended, his mind was everywhere. “So are you going to do something or do we have to call her over here?” Jayce nudges him, giving him a smirk. “Nah let’s wait to see if he can turn any redder.” Vi laughed as Caitlyn only shook her head in amusement. She however spoke up along with Mel. “Viktor you should really go get her, she’s literally given you the most obvious answer and you’re sitting here like an idiot.” Caitlyn exclaims, putting a hand on her forehead. “She’s right Vik, go get your girl.” Mel smiles, finally seeing her close friend get his ‘happy ending.’

And with that it was like Viktors legs stopped listening to him— leading him towards the stage as if he were hypnotised with some weird spell you were emitting into the air. He stopped just at the edge of the stage, tilting his head slightly. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

You laughed softly, shifting your guitar strap so it rested more comfortably. “A little.” Viktor exhaled, shaking his head. “You could have just texted me, you know.” “I could have,” you admitted, sitting on the edge of the stage. “But this was more fun.” You whisper, leaning in close to his face with a close eyed smile.

His heart stuttered. His hands clenched at his sides, not out of nerves, but because if he didn’t do something, he was fairly certain he was going to combust. “Since when have I had a song written about me in that head of yours?” He asked with soft smirk, flicking your forehead. You shrugged, pretending to count. “Hm, would it surprise you if I told you ever since the café gig?” He chuckled, shaking his head.

Viktor swallowed hard, then—because this entire night had already gone completely off the rails— “So. Does this mean I’ve officially won your heart?” He asked, hands snaking up to your hips, pulling you a bit closer.

You pretended to consider it for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. I’d say so.” You smirk and let him lean in for a kiss but then—

“Ew can y’all not do this right here?”

Powder’s voice echoed through the bar— a few people turning to look in your direction as you watched Viktor’s brows furrow with annoyance. “Didn’t you all beg me for months to just go for it?” Viktor said with slight anger in his voice— the wasted opportunity poking at his heart. “Yeah, but not right in front of us?!” Powder exclaimed, putting a hand on her hip.

You smiled in amusement, giggling even— “How about you and Ekko making out in our dorm almost everyday when you first got together, hm?” You tease, earning a few comebacks from both Ekko and Powder while the rest laughed.

You leaned towards Viktors ear and whisper; “Let’s get out of here?” You half ask before getting up, leaving an annoyed but proud Powder on the stage. As you pulled him toward the door, Powder cupped her hands around her mouth. “This isn’t over, Y/N!”

You tossed a playful wave over your shoulder, not even bothering to turn around.

The bar doors swung shut behind you, muting the sounds of laughter and music inside. The night air was cool, a stark contrast to the warmth of the bar, and for the first time all day, Viktor finally felt like he could breathe.

You squeezed his hand, glancing at him with a small smile. “So? Was this worth the wait?”

Viktor exhaled a laugh, shaking his head.

“Absolutely.”

taglist: @erica2024 @lolixsstuff @skullmvncher @startingtoloveyou @astarionapologist @th3stup1dcat @fiveperrcent @fadedpinkpen @noxturnalmoth

#⚖️just1cefor4ll #arcane #arcane x reader #arcane fanfic #arcane fanfiction #arcane viktor #viktor arcane x reader #arcane viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #viktor x y/n #viktor x you #viktor x reader #viktor lol #viktor arcane #viktor nation #viktor fanfiction

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split-spectrum · 9 months ago

Text

Water and Rock

Chapter 17 - Finale

Pairings: Obi Wan/FemReader

Warnings/Tags: Angst, Major Character Death, Mild Violence

Description: There are only so many excuses a master and padawan can make to kiss under "extenuating circumstances" before circumstances stop arising and start being created. You are an expert at your craft - a Jedi knight in service as a spy for the Republic. When your former master Obi Wan joins you on a mission, it's clear things aren't the same as they once were. The trials you face together may break your bond, or turn it into something else entirely.

A/N: The previous chapter was posted yesterday, so this is it - the final part and epilogue rolled into one. I hope it isn't a let-down after all this time!

Special thanks to everyone who has sent me nice messages, comments, etc. It means the world. It feels great to mark this story complete, and I can't say enough thanks to those of you who have been reading along with each of the updates. Your comments really did help me reach the finish. <3

☆☆☆

Obi Wan takes a breath, letting the Force send out the words calmly and clearly from within him as he steps into the most powerful room in the galaxy.

"Chancellor Palpatine, In the name of the Galactic Senate of the Republic, you are under arrest."

Anakin stands at his side, silent.

"Are you threatening me, Master Jedi?" Palpatine responds, lacking the proper measure of shock or fear that should be present in his voice.

Obi Wan keeps his eyes steadily on the man before him. "The senate will decide your fate."

A lightsaber emerges from Palpatine's sleeve, and he feels Anakin tense beside him. The wisened man before them lifts his eyebrows mildly. "It's treason, then."

A red blade bursts forth.

With a speed and accuracy that defies logic, Palpatine launches himself across the room at Obi Wan, who meets the attack with equal ferocity. Knocking his blade wide, Obi Wan feels his teeth rattle from the power of the blow.

Despite the strength behind his strike, Palpatine sends a worried glance at Anakin afterward. He backs off, leaving an opening for Obi Wan to parry.

"Anakin!" he cries out, swiftly and easily dodging Obi Wan's attack. "I told you it would come to this!"

Obi Wan can't stop to look behind himself; can't measure Anakin's reaction. He needs to stay focused, allowing the Force to guide his movements. "Don't speak to him. Your fight is with me."

Palpatine ignores the words, meeting his strikes backhanded and allowing himself to be pressed into a corner, sidling along the long stretch of the window. "The Jedi are taking over!"

"Be silent, Sith." Obi Wan allows himself a fleeting spark of anger, spitting the word at the man responsible for his own master's death. He quickly recollects himself, circling around the chancellor and saying his next words more slowly and clearly. "The oppression of your rule will never return. You have lost."

A flash of hateful, yellow glee oozes from Palpatine's eyes. "No," he says simply, as Obi Wan presses in. "No. No, you will die!"

"Obi Wan!" Anakin cries out at last, lunging for Palpatine just as lightning rockets from the tips of his fingers, sending Obi Wan sprawling across the room. He'd managed to catch the brunt of the blast with his lightsaber, but it was too powerful for him to contain.

He groans against the pain as he stands up, Anakin holding his lightsaber between them, mouth clenched hard and eyes full of fear. "I will not let you kill him."

"Anakin," Palpatine moans, skin scorched from the energy Obi Wan had managed to redirect back at him. "He came here to kill me. Without me, Padmé will die. You must choose."

"Don't listen to him, Anakin," Obi Wan says, frightened by the emotion he sees in Anakin's stare. There should be no doubt behind his eyes, and yet it's all he sees. "He's a traitor."

"I have the power to save the one you love," Palpatine insists, pressing himself helplessly against the window.

Obi Wan's lip curls. "I am going to end this, once and for all."

He swings his blade, only to find it crossed in a shower of blue sparks.

"Anakin, what are you doing?"

When he turns to face him directly, Obi Wan can now see the desperation in his friend's gaze. "He must stand trial."

"He's too dangerous to be left alive."

"I need him."

"Do you truly believe that he will help you?"

A brief flash of uncertainty crosses Anakin's face. Then it's replaced with anger. "Do you truly believe the Jedi seizing power will bring peace?"

Obi Wan hesitates.

"Without a trial, it would be chaos. If you want to save Democracy, he must live!"

Obi Wan clenches his fist around the hilt of his lightsaber, willing the Force to show him the way. But at every turn, all he can see is darkness.

"This is what you have prepared for."

The voice is steady, calm. And yet it stokes the fire in your chest even higher.

The deflectors on your ship scream through your hot landing in front of the executive building. Leaping out of the bay doors before the engine cooldown procedure has even begun, you scramble up the stairs to reach the chancellor's office before it's too late.

"You are a conduit of the Force. Let it work through you. Let your feelings guide you."

The disembodied voice accompanies you in the repulsorlift ride to the building's top floor.

"Be quiet" you wish you could tell him. You need to focus. But you know it would be dangerous to push him away this close to the critical moment.

In the rushing stream of your mind, you can hear faint echoes of laughter. You squeeze your eyes shut, then blink them back open when the doors slide apart.

Outside the chancellor's suite, you come to a careful stop. Inside, there is shouting.

For just a moment, you hesitate.

Are you making the right choice?

Maybe you're not as strong as you think you are. Your connection to the Force is more powerful than ever. But maybe you're still as weak as you've always been.

"I have shown you what will become of your master if you choose to do nothing" whispers the voice. "Before you stands the man responsible for all of it. I have foretold this Sith lord's coming, and the pain and suffering he will cause. Fulfill your destiny and bring his defeat."

"If you want to save democracy, he must live!"

You hear Anakin's voice, hoarse and pleading. You cross the threshold, drawn to it. You pull the Force tight around you, like armor. It surges through your veins like a drug.

"You don't believe that," Obi Wan answers, quieter and sharper. "This isn't about democracy. This is about Padmé. This is about your child."

Anakin looks like he's been slapped. "How do you-"

"See how the Jedi lie to you, Anakin," Palpatine crows. "He has known of your secret long before I have. And yet he does nothing to help. Because he cannot help. Only through me can you gain the power to save her."

"He is deceiving you, Anakin. Listen to me- Ahh!"

His entreaty is cut short by a snaking blast of electricity. He falls, gasping, to the floor while Anakin stands motionless.

Too late, he seems to regain his sense long enough to shout, "Stop! Don't hurt him!"

Palpatine's hands lower, the attack ceasing just as you run in front of them. He turns to Anakin while you fall to your knees.

"Obi Wan!"

At the sight of you, his eyes fill with frustration and sadness. "I told you not to come here."

"I told you that I can help."

"Do you see, now?" Palpatine asks, while Anakin stares in surprise at your presence. "The Jedi have planned this. They've come to kill me. You must help me."

"We didn't plan anything," you argue, helping Obi Wan to his feet. "He's the traitor. He's a Sith lord!"

"How do you know that?" Anakin asks, his red-rimmed gaze turning on you.

"We... we've been spying on him for some time," you admit. "It's only now that we've heard the truth."

Obi Wan says your name, low, beneath his breath.

"He's been lying about everything - working to undermine the Jedi all along," you go on, trying to convince Anakin to see the obvious truth. Yet his eyes are fixed on Obi Wan, as if he can't even hear you.

"How..." he asks, forming the word slowly, "...did you know about Padmé? About our child?"

There's an eternity of silence.

You hear the creak of stiff leather bending as Anakin's glove flexes around his mechanical fist.

"You weren't just spying on the chancellor, were you?"

Obi Wan's hand goes out, palm open. "Anakin, I-"

Blue lightning arcs across the room once again, crackling so loudly that Palpatine has to shout to be heard over it. "He admits his betrayal! Kill him! Do it, now!"

"No!" Obi Wan grimaces, his lightsaber catching the flashing strike this time before it can reach his body. His jaw juts forward as he presses hard into the Force, every ounce of his strength keeping the bolt from overwhelming him. If he slips, it will mean death.

There is no more time for reason. There is no more room for Anakin's feelings, or the fate of the Republic, or right, or wrong, or restraint or control.

You let the Force tear through you, the very molecules around you bending to let you pass quicker, warping to allow your hand to find your saber, your saber to find the truest path through the air, and your blade to find the neck of the Sith lord, closing the distance before the blink of an eye.

When Palpatine sends his own waves rippling through the Force, blasting you backward and bringing the fiery edge of his weapon crashing over you, it feels... good.

The most powerful being in the galaxy. And you are meeting him, blow for blow.

You parry, dodge, and whirl as he grunts with the effort of his attacks. Your arms burn, every muscle straining to keep up with the energy racing through you.

When Anakin realizes what's happening, he leaps in your direction, only to be held back by Obi Wan's arm. "Anakin, no!"

"She's going to kill him!"

Palpatine growls, lifting one hand from his saber and using it to drive a fork of energy deep into your body, wracking every muscle until you slam backward against the wall, then stabs at you, boxing you in, controlling your every response.

You can keep up, but just barely. And Obi Wan sees that. He leaps to your aid, only bringing a moment's distraction when Palpatine shocks him to his knees.

You try to gasp his name, but you can hardly breathe, sweat stinging your eyes, teeth gritted in effort. You can't win, you realize. Not like this, anyway. You're managing to stay alive, but not for long.

There has to be a way. You call out to the Force, to the stars, to whatever it will take to win this fight.

And you get an answer.

"You are still holding on. You must open yourself to the true nature of the Force. Let your passion guide you. Let go of all you have been taught and feel what must be done."

Shutting out the battle, letting your body do the work of crossing and uncrossing blades while you look deep inside yourself, you finally see it: You've never been the greatest warrior. It's the mind of your enemy that you know best. That is where your greatest strength lies.

You can sense Palpatine's mind beside your own. You feel his darkness, all the way to its greatest depth. You hear his thoughts, his desires, and even his fears. You begin to move through them, peeling back the layers of his thoughts and wrapping them around your hands like string, winding and winding as you work your way to the core of his being. And when you are deep enough, you begin to tear them apart.

As you slowly feel the strength and speed behind Palpatine's attacks diminish, you hear nothing but the rush of blood, energy, and power. Eventually, his attacks stop altogether, and you're able to concentrate fully on bending his mind to the point of breaking. Palpatine's face contorts as you feel his mind rending from his body, like a form of suffocation. His gaze is blank, looking more shocked than pained. But there is pain. He's overflowing with it.

You stare at him as you watch the sprawling, innumerable folds of his psyche collapse in on themselves, burning to nothing under the weight of your power. As he struggles against you, it's hard not to let up. It hurts, boiling a person's mind under the pressure of your own. His presence in the Force is so great that you can practically see his aura filling the air as it drains away.

When you finally bring your concentration back to the room in which you're standing, it dawns on you that he's been screaming. It only occurs to you when the noises come to an end. His limp body crumples to the floor, and you bring your gaze back to your fellow Jedi.

Anakin's eyes are solely on Obi Wan, who's standing as a barrier between you. They've been fighting. Blood trails from your master's nose and lip. He wipes it with one hand, holding his lightsaber aloft in the other, watching Anakin's movements.

"Anakin, it's done!" You call out, your voice sounding strange and far away as you try to get his attention. "It's over. Palpatine is dead."

But when Anakin looks away from Obi Wan, it's not at you. It's at the body on the floor. He's silent, eyes wide and chest heaving with every breath.

"I don't..." His voice comes out broken, and he doesn't finish the thought. Your heart aches for him, despite your immense relief. You don't know what he will be, after this.

"I have shown you what he will be."

You look around, as if to find the source of the voice, though you know you won't.

"Your job is not yet finished."

"What-"

Before you can speak, you see flashes of images. You've seen them before, but this time, the details are clear.

The person fighting your master. The one surrounded by light and flame. The image of the hand around Obi Wan's throat is suddenly clear. It belongs to Anakin.

You look at him, and within his expression you see the fire, the lava, the seething hatred. Of course, it's Anakin.

"There is one last problem to be dealt with. Your master will never be safe, as long as he lives."

"I won't let you hurt him," you say out loud. How could you not have seen it before? Anakin has fallen. As soon as he made his commitment to Padmé, he was against the Jedi. Against everything Obi Wan stood for.

"I'm alright," Obi Wan says, arm going up in a gesture to calm you, his eyes shifting to you briefly while his body stays firmly set toward Anakin. "It's alright."

"You shouldn't have killed him," Anakin grinds out, staring darkly at you. Tears are beginning to well in his eyes as he seems to fully register what you've done.

"You made the wrong choice," you answer, unafraid of the malice in his voice. "And I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, Anakin... but you can't be allowed to live, either."

Obi Wan suddenly turns to you. "What are you-"

You're already rushing past him, hand outstretched to form an invisible clenched fist around Anakin's throat. This time it will be easier. You weren't prepared for some of the ways Palpatine's mind struggled against yours, but as Anakin pushes back, you know exactly where to meet him.

You let the Force completely consume you, pushing your focus away from Anakin and any feelings of doubt. You acknowledge that what you're doing is terrible, in the same way that you acknowledge the weather; it is a fact. It can't be helped.

The alternative is unacceptable.

You begin to press into Anakin's mind, but this time, something is different. You were wrong - this isn't easier. It's more difficult. You're suddenly straining to keep the upper hand. Probably because he knows what to expect. Palpatine hadn't anticipated your sudden overwhelming power. Anakin has seen what you're capable of, and he's ready to fight.

You can feel him using the Force to hold back your hand, and you waver, arm shaking with effort. You grit your teeth, breaking through his mental barriers and feeling the anger beneath.

"I... I see what you are," you pant, dropping the deactivated hilt of your lightsaber on the floor to use both hands to try to choke him at a distance.

"Stop this!" Obi Wan's voice cuts through the cacophony in your mind. "Let him go!"

"You have to trust me," you answer, too short of words to give a proper response. "He's turned to the dark side."

"He made a mistake!"

His distraction is allowing Anakin the opening he needs to fight you, and you can see his hand go for his lightsaber. He's building up the strength to lunge at you. You need to end this.

Obi Wan yells your name, deep in his chest. You hear the anger behind it; the despair. But you can't care about that right now.

"Let him go!"

You ignore him, Anakin starting to slip free of your grasp. Behind you, you can sense Obi Wan swinging his arms up, ready to bring the durasteel hilt of his lightsaber to the back of your head.

It hurts you, to send shooting sparks of pain through the Force and into his mind, but you have no other choice. He doesn't know what he's doing.

He gasps your name, still trying to fight back. "Please-"

You twist your wrist to snap your lightsaber back up from the floor, readying yourself for Anakin's attack. You have to keep him from physically fighting you long enough to break his mind. Either he will die by your hand, or he'll kill you. But as long as you're breathing, you won't let him go.

"Do not do this, I beg you!"

Anakin's neck begins to strain under the pressure of your grip as he writhes against you. He's going to overpower you. Through his thoughts, you can feel him turning his saber, getting it ready. He's pushing back, wrenching you out. You tighten the vice in his head and Anakin cries out sharply, even as the power feels like it's draining from you faster by the second.

You press harder, harder, harder...

Suddenly, a burst of light erupts from the center of your chest, hot and clean and absolute.

It stays there as Anakin stumbles forward, dropped from your hold. For a moment, it doesn't register that the light isn't red. Your mind allows you the mercy of ignorance, imagining that Palpatine must have somehow taken you by surprise. But the thought dissipates as quickly as it had appeared.

Because Palpatine is dead.

And the light is blue.

And the universe stops.

As the blade slides back, you fall to your knees, collapsing back into Obi Wan's arms and looking up into the face of your killer. His blue eyes are wide.

You look into them, searching for an answer.

But all you see is pain.

You're so stunned you can't even speak, silently falling to the floor as he eases you down. How could he do this? Why? After everything...

You hear sudden laughter filling the air around you, and the pain of your injury starts to fade into the background. No, that's not quite right - the pain is still there, but you're... leaving it behind.

You feel yourself floating outside your own body, staring at the man who calls himself brother as he shakes his head, spreading his arms in celebration. The world suddenly goes dim.

"Oh, beautiful. Truly, beautiful."

He's here with you, and yet he's not. You're surrounded by nothingness, but still you can see, or perhaps sense, reality.

"To be put down like an animal by the hand of your own master?" Laughter ripples from him again, as time stands still around you. "You have done your duty more perfectly than I had ever dreamed."

You can't bring yourself to respond to him. You just silently gaze at yourself, held in Obi Wan's arms, too numb to say anything.

It was always meant to end like this." He glances down. "Well, not quite like this. This was... unexpectedly amusing."

Your silence is finally broken as impotent rage sears through you. "You... you never meant to help either of us. You wanted us both dead all along."

He gives a derisive shake of his head. "You are looking too closely. You can't see the broader picture. Shall I tell you, before you die, what your part was, in all of this?"

You leave him an indignant silence. It's clear that he has every intention of telling you, no matter what you say. It's why time has stopped - for him to gloat. For you to suffer.

"I have known you for much longer than you realize, my pet."

You seethe, but say nothing in return. Your head is still spinning, still trying to catch up.

"I first came to you as a youngling, as you were brought to the Jedi temple. There were many younglings to choose from, but your strength in the Force surpassed all the others. I believed Kenobi would certainly take you on, but he chose no one, and you were taken by another."

You want to argue - to correct him. You didn't surpass anyone. You've always had a weak connection; unsteady, unsure.

"I was forced to suppress your strength, so that you could not advance. With each new master, I further imbalanced your physical connection to the Force until there was almost nothing left. By the time you were finally placed with the right master, you were lacking in every aspect of the Force except mental."

You feel weak. It can't be true. Your entire existence, shaped by this sadistic creature?

"But... why? What for?"

He looks pleased that you've asked. "To protect my own apprentice. The Chosen One: Anakin Skywalker."

He pauses as you look at him in shock and dread.

Then he shakes his head, looking irritated as he goes on. "But chosen by whom? Soon enough, he would be chosen by a narrow-minded Sith lord who would bring about his own apprentice's downfall. Anakin Skywalker could be the greatest force of darkness to ever exist. His empire would reign for generations, and no longer would I be relegated to the meager corners of the galaxy. But I foresaw the future that awaited him. Would you like to know what you have prevented?"

Fear pulls at you. It would probably ease your spirit not to know. But you can't look away. You can't give yourself that undeserved mercy. He reaches out to touch you, and the knowledge pours in.

"I will do what I must." ... "You will try." ... "You were the chosen one! It was said that you would bring balance to the Force. Not leave it in darkness!" ... "It seems, in your anger, you killed her." ... "I was once a Jedi Knight, the same as your father." ...

"I am a Jedi. Like my father before me."

You see it all play out in what feels like years, and only an instant. The duel on Mustafar. Anakin's great loss. His son. Palpatine controlling every aspect of his life until Obi Wan's eventual triumph through Luke. Freedom, and death.

The galaxy would have been saved, had you not killed Palpatine before his time. Now, the brother's vision for the future is set in stone.

"So you see, my child, what needed to be done was clear: Skywalker's defeat on Mustafar must never happen, and Palpatine must die. You were chosen for this purpose, and you accomplished more than I'd ever imagined."

You try to speak a full sentence, but your voice is lost. All you can manage is, "How...?"

He gives a delighted smirk. "It was quite simple, really. I could never have convinced Kenobi to stay on Coruscant rather than pursue his pointless war on Utapau, eventually leading to Mustafar. He is too cunning for tricks, too devoted to his duty to give way to fear. But, if his trusted padawan were to beg him not to go..."

The horror of what you've done washes over you.

"There would be no fooling Kenobi through his mind. His heart was another matter."

His words seep into you, turning your insides. Your relationship - everything you'd done together; everything you'd experienced, has all been a lie. You're nothing more than a tool. A weapon. You were manufactured, and so were your feelings. All a product of your hidden purpose.

You look down at your own shocked expression as your body lays dying in Obi Wan's arms. It can't be. It just can't be.

Eventually, you look back up, needing to have all the answers, whether they're true or not.

"And... what about Palpatine? How did you know I could win?"

He smiles again. "I have told you, my child - the Force has always been strong with you. Can you imagine what an entire lifetime of struggling against my suppression has done for you? You were trained by Kenobi in spite of your limitations. Without them, you were nearly a match for Palpatine's strength. Not to mention, you had my assistance." He quirks a brow. "It was not difficult for me to hide your true power from him until it was too late."

You stare back at the scene in front of you - at Anakin's crumpled form. "And Anakin?"

"I needed only to fool you into fighting him, then bring you back under my thumb long enough for him to end your life. Kenobi would soon follow, too distraught to be a match for him, and Anakin would finally take his rightful place in the seat of power."

He turns to look where your gaze is trained. "However, this development has advantages as well. Perhaps he's outsmarted even me, in siding with Skywalker. In betraying you, your master has saved himself." His voice takes on a satisfied quality, becoming even more condescending as he looks back at you. "So you see, we all got what we wanted, in the end."

As you stare into the souless depths of his burning eyes, a thought emerges. You suddenly realize: He does not have the power that you thought he did.

He is not all-knowing. And it hasn't all been fabricated - not all of it.

Because he doesn't know Obi Wan.

And the tiniest spark of hope flickers back to life.

"Except that's... not true," you tell him.

"In what way?" he asks, unperturbed. He seems almost bored that you're still talking.

No matter what he has planned next to complete Anakin's fall to the dark side, it doesn't matter. As long as Obi Wan lives, so will the light. Palpatine wasn't his greatest enemy. And if he believed that, then his entire plan was flawed from the start.

But you don't tell him that. There's only one mistake that you're willing to share with him. Because it isn't over. Not yet. Not until you take your last breath.

You stare hard into the face of the being who has made you into an instrument for evil, corruption and death. "You said that my master betrayed me. But that isn't true. I see that now."

He huffs a laugh as time begins to crawl to a slow start again, your consciousness pulling back to your dying body. "You can frame it however you like. It's over now."

A sad, yet certain smile comes out as you freely tell the truth to a being who doesn't care to hear it.

"You think Obi Wan betrayed me to save himself?"

He gives a disinterested shrug. "Perhaps not himself, but Anakin certainly."

"He didn't betray anyone. I betrayed myself. He did exactly what I should have done. What he had the strength to do, and I never did."

He isn't listening anymore, and you can hear your own voice fading. But it's alright. You aren't speaking to him anymore.

"He let me go."

As all the pain of a mortal body envelops you again, you find yourself glowing with a light soul and a new mission. The shroud that has followed you your entire life is gone, and it wasn't until your death that you could finally see things clearly.

Obi Wan is silently kissing your forehead as he cradles your limp form, eyes shining bright with unshed tears.

You smile, lifting a hand to place it at his cheek. "Obi Wan, don't worry. I'm okay."

He chokes out your name, stunned and questioning. He can recognize the difference immediately. You've been so far beyond yourself that he can't believe you've come back.

You want to tell him all of it. You want to apologize until the last of your strength leaves you. You want to lie here in his arms, just feeling his warmth for the last moments you have together. But that isn't what needs to be done.

"Please," you manage. "I need to get to Palpatine."

He looks down at you in confusion, and you glance up at Anakin, who's still on his knees where you left him. He stares at you with a mix of anger, distrust, and pity. You try again. "Please, help me. I have to save him."

Obi Wan hesitates, looking behind you, then back at your face. "I don't understand," he murmurs tight in his throat. "Why?"

"There's..." You wince as you try to speak. "...no time. Please."

Gently pulling away, Obi Wan does as you ask, while Anakin watches with uncertainty. He helps you struggle to move a few feet across the floor until you're kneeling over Palpatine's body.

You place a hand on his chest and concentrate all your will on him. You know what it is to have the Force fill you completely, and you hang onto that feeling, allowing it to flow through you without holding anything back.

One advantage of being trained in all the Jedi arts, despite not being in any of them: You know how to heal. And at your full potential, you're able to pull someone back from the brink of death.

Slowly, all three of you watch as Palpatine's chest starts to rise and fall again, taking shallow breaths. You pour everything you have into it, letting the last of your life drain away into this Sith lord who represents everything you hate; everything you stand against.

But you're no longer filled with hatred, or fear. You no longer have apprehensions about allowing Obi Wan to face whatever comes next. You realize now that any control you thought you had was an illusion. And more importantly, you realize the depth of your betrayal in putting your master's life before the lives he fought to protect.

When you can feel Palpatine's life force stabilize, you reach out and touch the most critical part - his mind. It is intact, but barely. He will never recover what you have destroyed. You can feel him rising back to consciousness, confused, lost and grasping for direction.

You let go of his mind, collapsing again to the floor as you reach the end of your strength. Obi Wan catches you, holding you gently, his hand behind your head. He gazes down at you. "I don't understand. Why have you done this?"

You give him a smile, the warmest one you can manage. You try to find the words, and eventually settle on, "Anakin was right. He must live."

He's silent, looking up and down your body as if there was something he could do. But he isn't a healer. And you're too gravely wounded, anyway. His eyes fix on the hole in your chest, then he blinks and looks away, pulling you closer in his arms. "I'm sorry. If there had been any other way..."

He fades off as you use the exhausted muscles in your neck to slowly shake your head. "There was no other way."

He looks as if you've pierced his heart by saying it, absolving him at the same time as he condemns himself. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours, his eyes tightly shut. "I have failed you. This... darkness within you... I never realized..."

You wish you could wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into the warmth of your body, but you're too weak to move, and the room is growing dim. Instead, you speak so softly you can hardly hear yourself.

"I wish there was more time. Wish I could tell you... how wrong you are."

He pulls back to look into your eyes, head leaning to the side, face pinched with anguish. He shakes his head, whispering, "No."

You don't know if he's not allowing you to forgive him, or fighting with the reality of your death as it closes in, but you need to tell him. You need him to understand.

Soft, fuzzy blackness spreads from the corners of your vision. You push through it, willing your mouth to form the words as his hand clutches yours.

"All my life has been darkness, Obi Wan. And... and I never knew why. But because of you... the light never left me."

Epilogue...

It's quiet, for a time. And then, everything is so, so loud.

You can hear it, feel it, see it all. The entire universe is humming through you. You blink into the light.

And you realize, you have eyes.

That shouldn't be.

You are a part of the living Force. You shouldn't be able to feel, or move, or think.

You look down, and you see your own arms, your own legs. You feel different, but the same. You are still yourself. But you are whole. You feel a peace you've never felt before. And then you hear a voice.

"Well done, young one."

He's sort of shimmering, like a mirage or a vision. But he's most certainly real.

"Master Qui Gon?"

Standing in his robes, just as you remember him from every holo you'd seen, he gives you a muted smile. "Welcome."

You look around, still surprised at your ability to look at anything. It's as if there's a film between reality and where you are now. You can see everything, but it's distant and blurred. Everything is surrounded by a soft glow.

"Where am I? I... I thought I died. Have I not joined the living Force?"

"Indeed you have, padawan. And you have been given a great honor. You may remain as yourself, if you so choose."

You can only stare, questioning. You nearly correct him, to tell him you're a Jedi Knight, but you realize there's no purpose for such a title here.

He seems to read your thoughts. "There is much you have still to learn, my young friend. I am here to guide you."

You're at a loss, but ready for whatever may come next. "What... what will you teach me?"

He smiles again. "Whatever you wish to know."

Immediately, your attention turns to where Obi Wan and Anakin remain, behind the veil. You have only one question, and it's more important than anything you've ever asked.

"Did I make the right choice?"

"A relative question."

You try again, more honest this time. "Will they live? Will the Republic... and the galaxy..." You shake your head, turning back to him. "Will everything be alright?"

Qui Gon places his hand, or the idea of his hand, gently on your shoulder, turning you away from the scene and into a white abyss. "That answer would depend upon your point of view. But before you decide, let us see the outcome that you have prevented."

Before you, a future that will never be plays out.

"Execute Order 66."

Obi Wan, shot down by... clone troopers. His own men?

Falling to his death - the vision is already burned into your mind.

But... it wasn't his death. You'd been deceived in every way imaginable. Obi Wan swims to the surface, to escape.

He is one of very few survivors.

Ki Adi Mundi. Shaak Ti. Plo Koon. Jedi after Jedi is cut down, murdered in cold blood by the Grand Army of the Republic. So many lives, lost. Even the younglings.

Mace Windu loses his life, too, but at the hand of Palpatine himself. The images look eerily familiar.

Anakin falls to the dark side. The temple burns.

Scenes are speeding up now - there is so much death. Jedi. Clones. Innocent bystanders.

Padmé.

The creation of the Death Star. Entire worlds destroyed in the blink of an eye.

And Obi Wan... alive, but alone. Watching over Anakin's son. Betrayed by those he cared for most.

The Jedi Order is gone, and the galaxy will never be the same.

When the vision ends, Qui Gon pulls back his hand and looks at you curiously. "Do you recall your teachings by Master Yoda, regarding the future?"

You nod, letting go of what you've seen. "The future is always in motion."

A light shines behind Qui Gon's eyes. "I seem to remember him phrasing it differently, yet the sentiment is there."

You brighten along with him, but it's still impossible to smile in the center of all your grief. "Then... the future that will happen now...?"

He's quiet for a moment, letting you find the answer yourself. You realize what he means. You'll have to watch it unfold for yourself.

"We will wait and see, padawan. Your work is done. It is time to rest."

And as you slowly let go of your anxieties, your doubts, and your fears, knowing there is nothing more you can do to change things, you feel your soul grow lighter.

It's then that you realize it - the weight you'd carried for so long has finally been lifted.

With time, and with teaching, you are able to find peace. The brother - the Son, as you come to know him through Qui Gon's knowledge is not able to reach you here. When you give yourself over to the Force, it's no longer a violent wave threatening to carry you away from yourself. Connecting to the Force and letting it flow through you makes you feel more yourself than you ever have.

Throughout your time with Obi Wan, you had always thought of him as your steady rock, keeping you from being swept away in the stream of the Force. But at long last, you understand - you've been the rock, stubbornly holding onto your anxieties. Forced to live in fear and limiting yourself as the darkness pressed in, holding you captive, too afraid to let go. Obi Wan has only ever been trying to teach you to become like water and flow into the rest of the universe.

If only you could tell him.

But you let that thought go, and eventually, you fade into the energy that surrounds the galaxy, to experience beauty like never before.

You travel from planet to planet, observing, listening and learning. You see your friends as they live their lives. You let yourself be carried away by time and space, watching everything happen through the lens of the Force.

Palpatine is taken into custody by the Jedi council. By leaving him alive, yet in a catatonic state, you made it possible for him to be questioned, and to uncover the depth of his lies and manipulation. Many months pass as his secrets are untangled, giving the council all the proof they need to negotiate the many, many treaties required. Senator Bail Organa, rather than meeting his end on Alderaan, has a long and successful career working alongside the Jedi to broker peace across the galaxy.

Mace Windu returns from Utapau, successful in his mission to defeat Grievous. The Separatist threat is over. Or, never truly existed.

The road is long and arduous, but with the help of Master Yoda and the rest of the council, arrests are made, compromises are found, and civilizations are rebuilt after the war.

The council, however, is one member short, soon after the fighting ends.

Obi Wan stays true to his word, leaving the Jedi Order to find a solitary existence on Saleucami.

You watch as he creates an idyllic homestead, filled with crops well tended and animals well cared for. It's a quiet life. One he deserves. And his leaving the order gives Anakin the courage to do the same.

Anakin and Padmé welcome the twins together on Naboo, surrounded by friends and family. Obi Wan even visits, occasionally.

Padmé's death, like Obi Wan's, was a deception; a lie fed to Anakin by Palpatine, just as the son lied to you. Anakin will struggle with his connection to the Force for the rest of his life. But with the help of Jedi mind healers, he learns to let go of his fears. No longer under Palpatine's influence, he finally manages to find peace.

Meanwhile, throughout Obi Wan's time on Saleucami, while his days are filled with light, they are equally filled with doubt. And his nights are filled with regret.

You can feel his pain radiating through the Force, calling out to you, and you can't help but come to his side. With only a few feet, and yet all of time and space between you, you listen as he whispers his thoughts aloud.

"Please, Master... if you hear me... please..."

He stays like this for minutes, sometimes hours, just watching the emptiness. It isn't just meditation. It's something more broken than that. A call in the darkness. A plea for help.

"Master Yoda has told me that you've appeared to him. That I am to learn from you once again. If that is true, you must help me. I need your guidance."

Silence answers.

"I... I don't know how to... move forward. If what I have done is unforgivable. If there was truly no way to save her."

You find yourself whispering back, knowing he can't hear you but trying anyway. "You did save me. You saved everyone."

But it's no use. And after the silence drags on, he puts himself to bed, no closer to acceptance. No closer to hope.

You spend so many nights at his side, telling him the truths he'll never hear.

"If only it had been me." / "No, Obi Wan. Don't say that."

"There must have been another way." / "There wasn't. There never was."

"I could have used reason. I could have tried harder to reach her." / "I was too far gone. Nothing would have brought me back."

One night, he blinks back tears as he listens to the darkness for the hundredth time. Then he whispers your name.

"Forgive me," He sighs, taking in a shuddering breath. "I've made so many mistakes, and I can never set things right."

You close your eyes, remembering the words he'd told you long ago.

"You do not need my forgiveness, my master. But you have it."

As you watch him, heart tearing apart at your inability to reach him, you feel a familiar hand on your shoulder. You turn to look up at Qui Gon. You want to ask him why he doesn't answer Obi Wan. Why he won't bring him the the relief that he needs.

But you already know the answer.

Qui Gon watches him with a solemn gaze.

"He will not hear until he is ready."

It's a beautiful day in artifical Spring on Coruscant when that time finally comes.

It's been over a year since Obi Wan has created a life for himself on Saleucami. If one could call what he's doing living. Part of him died the moment his blade touched you. He'll never be the same, and he knows it.

But there are still reasons to go on living. And visiting the temple is one of those reasons.

Over a cup of tea in Mace Windu's quarters, the truth emerges, and drives straight through Obi Wan's heart.

"Wh- what are you saying? She never said these things to me."

It had been a long discussion, catching up on internal government politics, friends and acquaintances, and temple life, when the topic had turned to you, and Obi Wan's coping with your loss. In recounting your final conversation, Mace had divulged a long and intricate list of details. Ones you had never shared with Obi Wan. Ones that would have almost certainly led to Mace's failure to capture Grievous, and possibly, to his own death.

"That cannot be," Obi Wan whispers to himself. None of the things you'd told Mace line up with any of the few details you'd given him.

"The instructions the commander provided would have led us straight into a trap. Thankfully, we had the necessary recon to avoid it. But that is exactly what she told me. She swore she'd told you as well. I would have questioned you, but your resignation was so soon afterward..."

He trails off, and Obi Wan is left speechless.

Your fall to the dark side hadn't happened suddenly. It had been a long time coming. You had been willing to send an innocent man to his death.

How long had you been planning this? How long had you suffered in the dark?

It wouldn't have stopped with Anakin. You would have killed anyone who you perceived as a threat. Anyone who stood in your way. Your fear and anger had turned you long before you killed Palpatine.

Whatever had twisted your mind, you'd kept it hidden from him for a long time.

He remembers your words: "All my life has been darkness..."

He begins to understand you may have had more to tell him. Words you never had a chance to say. That he may not have been wholly responsible for what happened.

When he meditates upon what you said about the light, he makes the first step in deciding the rest of his life: Whether he believes he made the right choice or the wrong one, whether he is Jedi or not, whether he made mistakes... he has a responsibility. He must always turn back to the light.

And that night, back in his bed, for the first time since you've been gone, he can swear he feels your presence beside him.

Ten Years Later

"It is good to have you here, Master Kenobi."

He grins, winding his arm in a slow circle with his hand on his shoulder, loosening up from the long ride to Courkrus. "Happy to be here, Master Luminara. I hear the pirate hoardes are lovely this time of year."

She gives a half-roll of her eyes at his familiar irreverence, but she smiles, too.

"The main front has moved to the West side of the mountains, here." She indicates a broad swath of land on the holomap as they begin their hike toward the village. "We have a perimeter set up throughout most of the Southern hills, but there will still be a lot of work to do in the coming days if we expect to push back in time for the harvest."

It had taken Obi Wan some time to return to his seat on the council. Another year had passed on Saleucami after his conversation with Mace Windu. But it had been the missing piece he'd needed to let go of blame, let go of regret, and reconnect with himself and the Force. Eventually, he found himself strong enough to start to live again.

And one fateful night, long after he had stopped calling out for his master, he finally heard the voice of Qui Gon calling out to him.

Before he could stop himself, your name left his lips. He needed to know; Qui Gon had to tell him. Everything. Anything.

But his old master had simply smiled and told him there was much he still needed to learn.

Qui Gon instructed him in following a new path - one that would help him retain his consciousness, even after death. A privilege reserved for those powerful and humble enough to attain it.

His training continues, even now, as he feels the familiar pulse of the Force flowing through him, heading into battle yet again, to defend a small farming village from a gang of pirates terrorizing the local star system.

It feels good to be of use, Obi Wan is thinking, just as a spike of warning jolts through the Force and he turns to see a child toddling outside the village gates.

Luminara is fast at his side as he leaps forward, slicing his lightsaber through the air and blocking a rocket missile barreling toward the gate. It explodes in front of them, knocking the child backward as Obi Wan bears the brunt of the heat, pushing it back with an outstretched hand.

"Get the child inside!" he shouts, knowing Luminara is already moving to do so, but absolving her of any hesitation in waiting for him. "Go!"

The village gate slams shut behind them, and Obi Wan is just about to gracefully leap over the wall when something catches his eye in the distance.

It's a pulse cannon. These are no ordinary ruffians. This is an organized invasion.

He hesitates before getting inside the walls of the village. They won't stand a chance against this kind of firepower at close range. He has to take it out before it can make it over the hill.

He's not a young man anymore, but he's fairly certain he can outpace the slow artillery unit as it crawls its way closer. Darting in a zig-zag pattern across the open plain, he's already closing in before they've even realized they're a target. Raising his lightsaber, he nears the enemy, and all at once he realizes why the view port hasn't been turned in his direction.

Outside the gates behind the opposite side of the village, a small militia has been gathered by the pirates and are standing, disarmed, awaiting their execution by blaster. Obi Wan glances back at the cannon.

He can save the villagers, but he would never have time to close the distance back to the cannon. He would be an easy target.

Luminara would see the cannon in time to save the rest of the village. He knew that much. But she couldn't help the ones in front of him, now. There's only one choice to make.

He dashes in front of the line of pirates, severing the ends of their readied blasters all in one fell swoop. As they stare at him in bewilderment, he frees the villagers from their restraints with another flick of his lightsaber and turns to run, knowing that the pulse cannon has already locked onto him.

The light is blinding, his body wracked with shock as his muscles freeze mid-step, and it's over in an instant.

In the end, it didn't hurt as much as he'd expected.

The legendary Obi Wan Kenobi meets his fate at the hands of a backwater gang of pirates. It's almost enough to make him laugh, as he fades away into the cosmos.

For ten years, or none, you've been a part of the Force. It seems like eons and no time at all.

Your own death was a moment ago and so long ago it was the beginning of the universe. You've experienced wonderful things and grown so much since then, and yet it's all passed in the blink of an eye.

And suddenly, at long last, you feel it: A new soul has joined the light.

Across time and space, you recognize it.

And you run to it. Of course you do. You are the Force. And the Force has always loved Obi Wan.

When you see him, he's carrying the soft smile he's only ever held for you. He's filled with light, and you know he's succeeded in his training, to remain as himself, the same as you. Qui Gon will be so proud.

Everything you need to tell him - that you will tell him, fades away. The past has no bearing now that you are both finally free. There is no time at all, and you have all the time you could ever want.

Your eyes are filled with tears as you cross the distance, and when he catches you, it feels like everything's changed, and yet nothing has. As you fall into his arms, he sighs with pure, uncomplicated joy. The only difference is that his voice is a little deeper, a little softer in your ear.

"Hello, my love."

The End.

Masterlist

Tag List: @cosmicsierra @projectdreamwalker @guacam011y @thriving-n-jiving @reverieisaway @cursedfaechild @honeymoon7770 @hedvighedvig @cool-ontherun-world @ladytano420 @eddythewitch @immajustvibehere @thegreatwicked @marrily @millercontracting @littleredwolf @b0xerdancer-writes

#obi wan x reader #star wars #star wars fanfiction #fanfic #obi wan kenobi #water and rock #obi wan kenobi x reader

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duffyyy911 · 5 months ago

Text

A Line in Black - 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 4 - 𝙳𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚁𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝙺𝚗𝚘𝚌𝚔

Summary: The detective gets a rude awakening after trying to block out the previous night's events.

Content Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and smoking. Mentions of prostitution. We aint getting freaky just yet gang dw

Word Count: 8k Author's Notes: I wanted to get some more dialogue and tension into this chapter, so nothing precisely exciting happens besides a riveting back and forth between the reader and Lest. I am going to be starting a new job soon, so Idk how frequent chaps are going to come out after the next one, but I'll work hard as long as yall keep reading!

Proofread by: @6selkie @sillyb0nez Masterlist: Here

The faint hiss of the waters mist, a gentle greeting that was followed up with the roar of the tide hitting its mark and tumbling back into the sea. The bitter taste of salt on the air, the same savory feeling that invited itself onto your tongue every time you took a deep breath in. You felt the frail chunks of paint chip off beneath your thumb as you gripped onto the rusting railing of the stern-side bridge deck. You pulled your eyes open with great difficulty, prying the two lids apart as if they had been glued together for a length of time that had all but slipped away in the moment. You looked out onto the waters, a curved horizon of deep blue washing into a cascade of rich orange and grays as waters met an open painted sky in the distance, the evening clouds falling down to the skyline in front of the embers of a sunset. You could hear the distant cawing of the seagulls turning in circles far above your head, the whipping of the short nautical flags hanging from their mounts, and the creak of the ship’s elongated hull breaking the waves. The harsh wind blew in from your side and you braced, then quickly fastened the buttons of your tall blue wool jacket. You think for a moment as you do, pausing on each twist of the buttons through their slits. You try to remember where you even found the jacket. Or when you even put it on. You looked back out over the horizon, side-eying a flood of blackened dark clouds rolling in from the distance and beginning to wipe the slate of the sky clean. The rock of the tide picked up and shifted the ship beneath you, the vessel billowing out a low, deep groan as it took the ocean’s whipping. You felt the sailing cap upon your head slip and slink lopsided against your ear. You slowly readjusted it, and you looked on in silence as the storm blew in.

As the winds picked up and a heavy rain blew in with a sea storm’s darkness, you headed inside for the night in the bridge quarters. You hadn’t even stopped to look at the messy state of the wheelhouse, a picture’s example of the kind of quarters sailors keep, before you had grabbed a hold of the valve to the hatch door at the back of the cabin and began to give it a turn. With great force, the wheel slipped and slowly spun out of its place. You toed in through the hatch and took a moment to shut the heavy metal door behind you and twist the wheel back. The loud splatter of the whipping rains outside died down a bit, mixing into the gentle roar of the waves and the distant crackle of thunder on the air beyond the waters. You hung up your coat in your dim bunkroom, catching the collar on the hook screwed into the motley coat of dim green painted on the wall. You go to throw your hat on your bed, glancing at the empty bunk lying half-made and wamthless. That’s when you got a glimpse of them. The person sitting in the low armchair at the end of your bunk, between the back and a tall slim wall closet. You only caught a glimpse of their legs and the legs of their quite expensive looking pants, but every time you tried to recall what they looked like, you couldn’t. Their color, their shape, nothing came to you once you looked away.

“Rough sea out there, captain?” They hummed, cupping their hand around a crystal ashtray in their lap. They puffed on the end of a slender cigarette, ashing it into the tray from time to time with a hollow flick beat everytime the paper tapped against the glass. Fwick. Fwick.

“Not until just now. Storm’s coming in, might be a long one.” You grumbled back. You turned about and slowly sank down to the creaking bunk mattress as you took a minute to breathe. Your hands looked a lot more worn and aged since the last time you looked at them. You rub the callouses built up by reigning in lines at night and hauling up trappers boxes in the morning, wondering where you even found the time to do all of it. Your thoughts began to linger for a moment, dancing away until they were pulled back by the almost silent fwick of the cigarette being ashed once more. “I thought you were going out on the boats?”

“The whales didn’t come back today.” The person sighed deeply from over the shoulder of where you sat. Every glimpse you got of them, unrecognizable once you blinked away. Fuzzy and featureless, like a little kid’s drawing that had been scribbled over. “So I had them bring the dingy back in.”

“Figures.” You murmured as you slipped off your shoes and moved them under your bed bunk with a kick. “I’ve got the line in, all I have to do is make the rounds before turning in.” You mentally go down your list of many chores one could not just leave until tomorrow when they run a vessel.

“I was thinking.” They spoke up as you slowly laid yourself back into your thin uncomfortable mattress. You threw your wrist over your eyes to block the sharp light of the cabin’s ceiling lamp that wobbled back and forth from the rock of the wave.

“Does it pay well?” You joked to keep yourself from dozing off.

“No-” They paused with a breathy dismissive chuckle on their voice. “No, it’s nothing.”

“What? Come on.” You encouraged them. You blindly threw out your arm across the bed in their direction. Although it didn’t land its mark, eventually you could feel warmth on your fingertips as they grazed the ends of another’s. Your bones ached, a body in need of rest. And if you had to stand back up, you just might fall apart at the joints.

“Well, I was-” They paused again. You could almost picture the stupid smile on their lips. Whatever they looked like. “Do you remember that little village? It was somewhere south of Ionia, I don’t know.”

“Yeah.” You hummed half-asleep. You had no clue what they were talking about, but you weren’t about to pull aside a detour conversation about remembering the umpteenth place you had stopped along the way.

“I was thinking-”

Bang. Bang. Bang.

A series of heavy knocks on the door of the cabin thundered out. Neither of you two said a word, or seemed to react at all. You sighed deeply, feeling your chest rise and fall as you pinched the bridge of your nose. The comment about falling apart at the joints may yet to come true.

“Captain. I think she’s here to see you.” They hummed with a monotone canter.

“What? Who? What for?” You sat up from your daze on the bunk.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

“She sounds very displeased, captain. You’d better hurry.”

“Yes, but what for?” You huffed as you stood up from the bunk, blindly putting your shoes back on after what seemed like only mere seconds.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

“The door. Captain.”

“But what for!” You barked coarsely. You grabbed a good hold onto the valve to the turn locks and gave it a good spin. You wondered at who was making all that racket. Something big enough to shake such a heavy metal piece. The rusted hinges to the hatch wound up, and the door swiveled open. And in the nothingness of the void beyond the frame, you fell through like flopping limply into water. An ocean.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

“Detective!”

“What? I’m up!” You jerked awake from your stiff slumber on your old mattress. You didn’t even know who you were responding to yet, the way you were ripped from that dream that was now beginning to fade.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The knocking was practically shaking the drywall at this point. The thudding of a closed fist against wood did not help out your now increasingly tightening headache that had creeped in on it que. “I’m up!” You hollered once more. You tasted your dry mouth with discomfort creasing across your face as you looked about. Your room, as empty and sad as you remember it. Your jacket was laying crumpled up at the foot of the bed, draped over your legs. You took a second to check your clothes, still the same ones you had on last time you remember, damper now that you had overheated in the night. You glanced out the window, looking to the sky above the rooftop surrounding the alleyway. Bright, blue, cloudless. A restful day, it seemed.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

“Now who’s the deaf one!” You called out. You rubbed the corners of your eyes with your dry hands as you breathed in with some struggle. The muscles in your chest felt tight, and there was a weird swell in the back of your nose that bothered you every time you inhaled or swallowed. You were starting to hope this wasn’t the start of another cold, one that you could not afford right now.

“I’m coming in.” You heard your caller announce through the thin door. You already knew who it was. There would be nobody else in this entire city that would be able to get a hold of you so quickly. Because if it was Lyric, he would have already invited himself in. “You’d better have clothes on.”

“It’s not a red carpet night at the cabaret. So, yeah.” You groaned as you sat up fully and scooted to the edge of the mattress. You planted feet onto the cool slickness of the floorboards, your knees sticking up and against your chest as you took a moment to collect yourself. Your head spun like you just got flattened by a freight train, but your senses were slowly returning to you piece at a time. You watched the knob twist and the door swing slowly open with a gentle and hesitant push.

Lest stopped half way in through the doorway, pausing when she took a good look at your living conditions. You weren’t sure if the brief twitch in her right ear that shot up its spine and flicked off the tip, or the subtle flare of her bottom eyelids, or the single step back she took before she masked the actions in an instant, were signs of shock or disapproval. But there her eyes went, flicking around and silently casting judgement that would never be shared.

“Is this where you’ve been all day?” She asked impatiently, leaning against the frame of your door with an undecided half-fold of her arms. She herself, however, looked entirely out of place in your habitat. She stood tall before you in a maroon peacoat, one long enough that its trim was glissading down far past her knees and almost all the way down to the floor. She kept her same headscarf, the folds of which she still hid behind at times when she spoke to you. Overtop of the pinkish scarf, she wore an equally wine hued breton cap with a single band around the base of its trim, which seemed to also have slits fashioned into its top to accommodate your boss’ ever tall ears.

You blinked at her in silence, your right eye closed to block the light coming in from the window while the other followed the yellow of Lest’s irises subtly darting around the room before they came to a stop after meeting yours.

“I mean, where else would I be?” You wiped your palm down your face in exhaustion, a vain hope that maybe something could speed up the recovery. You felt like you were a schoolboy in trouble for something you weren’t quite sure what you did. You scratched behind your ear in thought, what had you done recently? “Why? Were you looking for me? For how long?” You croaked out the measly questions one at a time.

“All day.” Lest exhaled with feigned disbelief. “First I looked in the nearest bars, none of them had heard or seen of you except for one. They said you had got in a fist fight, then left and they hadn’t seen you since.”

“Oh yeah?” You idly asked as you slowly stood up with great difficulty. You could feel the blood rush to your already tight head, its pulsating rhythm growing more intense for a short few seconds before dying out again. You threw your arms back and up behind your head, stretching with a cat’s yeowl as you felt the muscles in your back stretch apart reluctantly.

“Then, I went to the police department across the bridge, to see if you were in the tank.” Lest continued on, a droning working its way into her voice as she caught on that you were only half listening. “Aren’t you going to ask how I got in?” She cocked an eyebrow, fully committing to folding her arms as she watched you walk by her and into your cramped bathroom.

She might be good at keeping a straight face at a poker game, sure, but you could read a little more into the contents of a person’s book than most people. Whatever you did, going missing like that did genuinely worry her. Most people would have just asked around, maybe sent a letter. Wait some more. But her? No, she came to look for you directly and she didn’t stop until she reached your bedroom door.

“I probably left my door unlocked.” You shrugged as your bare feet made contact with the cheap tile. You flipped on the stingy fluorescent light with a flinch and a shudder that trailed up your spine. You bent over your bathroom sink to get a better look at yourself. You had to admit, you felt a lot worse than you looked. But you looked far from ideal, about only a single dollar out of a million. You pulled the skin of your right cheek down, checking under your eyelids as the flesh shifted and stretched. “Or, you unlocked it. Bavo, if so.”

“Your landlord.” Lest snorted. “She was dropping a cardboard box off, told me it was for you.” She peered at you from around the door, in a spot where if you craned your neck just right you could see through both doors and get a full look at the reflection of the mirror.

“Where’s the kid?” You inquired gravelly, noticing that the boy was all but missing. You back stepped out of your bathroom and squeezed past Lest at the door, who seemed to insist on keeping herself planted to where she was standing. You trod through your open office, or living room, kitchen, whatever you had resided in calling your pitiful two room apartment.

“I sent him home, what do you think?” Lest remarked with a short waver in her voice, a subtle sneer pinching back her nose that you didn’t need to look back at to visualize. “I’m not his keeper.”

“That’s fair.” You hum absentmindedly. You approached the squarish low cardboard box by the doormat, your footsteps dancing between the juts of sunlight cutting past the checkrails of the kitchen window. “That’s really sweet of you to have me bailed out. Looking for me in a Pitlie police station, no less.” You tagged on with a croak of sarcasm.

“I would have just asked you through the bars, detective.”

“Asked me what?” You bent down and spun the box over. Completely bare, only held shut by a loose line of duct tape. You punched into the sides of the box to loosen the tape to open it up, glancing at Lest still in the slanted disapproving lean she had given when she opened your door. You gave her an earnest, but obviously confused grin. You genuinely had no idea why she had stopped by. You must have drank heavily before, because the last thing you could recall was wading through a river of garbage in the sump and some vague memory of wriggling down a vent like a sewer rat.

“For an update, I thought you were following up on a lead?”

“Right.” You hummed once more. You opened the box up slowly, looking into the space to find a pile of folded, albeit second-hand looking, clothes. A little note sat on top of the top stack of shirts, a brief thank you letter from your landlord for the advance on rent. The glad, almost proud feeling rising in you could not be underestimated. This was like the equivalent of finding out you had inherited a lot of money from a dead relative you never knew, or finding some priceless thing sitting in a drainpipe. As you marveled at your new gift, you glanced up to see your employer still awaiting your response. “I don’t do business this early, miss.”

“I paid you a commission, you do business whenever I need it done.”

“You came into my house.” You reminded her as you squatted down and picked up the hefty box. “That’s like if I had a lead, and I just walked into your hotel room while you were still sleeping and started making a report.” You squeezed past Lest in the doorway again, back into your room. You let the box fall from your arms and land with a muffled thud on your mattress.

“I wouldn’t be sleeping past midday.” She turned her nose up at you as you walked by.

Despite her little sneers and the wrinkling of her short nose at your lifestyle, your boss didn’t seem like the snooty kind, the opposite in fact. A real woman of the people, hiding in plain sight like those with the moxie for it ought to. Yet she did have a bad habit of talking down to you, not in a demeaning way. But one that showed that it had been quite a long time since she had spoken with someone in the same class bracket as her. If she had collected this ever-relevant list of wealthy clients for this long, your suspicion would be that she mostly works in Piltover. Not only did she work in Piltover, but she also walked through it freely. That means she fit in with Piltover’s society, a necessity perhaps, but one that seemed to subtly leave its mark. It explained her emphasis on privacy, all the little shortcuts she knew, her obtuse but cutting taste for attire. How she treats you like an equal but speaks to you with strange reluctance. It was kind of like putting on a costume, but eventually forgetting you were wearing one. And soon enough, the costume becomes just clothes.

“I’m a detective, not a soldier. Just give me a minute.” You objected honestly as you took some of the second hand clothes from the box and tucked them under your arm. Lest held the impatient furrow in her brow, yet her eyes flicked to the side briefly. “Go find something to eat, go sit down. Go read, or turn on the radio. Occupy yourself, it’s a nice day out.”

“You missed most of it.” Lest muttered under her breath as you closed the door to your bathroom. Even after you had run the water in the shower, you could still hear her outside the door. Pacing around the living room in a soft, troubled tempo.

As you took off your shirt, you couldn’t help but notice that there was some marking on your wrist. You turned your hand around, your eyes trailing along a message in marker that ran up your forearm before seeming to wind around your back. “Hey, you got a pen and paper?” You called out to Lest through the door.

“What? No?”

“Look in my desk. I’m about to read out the results of that lead I followed last night.” Your eyes flicked back and forth through the words sprawling up your arm.

There was a short pause in the pacing you could hear before, then the scoot of your desk’s drawer being opened. “Okay?”

“Meet me at the corner of East Side commons and …” You read aloud slowly. You paused as the words spiraled under your arm and around to your back as they went. You turned around and began trying to read the reversed message in the mirror from over your shoulder. “Glass st-reet. Al-cobe di-district.”

“Is your liver finally failing?”

“Shut up, it’s backwards.” You called back as you tried to read faster than the mirror could fog.

“What is? What are you reading?”

“Just keep writing!” You cleared your throat and continued to read. “Nine tonight. Dash, Ronk.”

“What’s a ‘Ronk’ and why does it sound filthy?”

“Ronk is a jobless vagrant I met in a dive bar last night.” You jokingly boasted.

That’s right, Ronk. Now, it was starting to come back to you. You had lost your lead, and you went to that stupid place and almost got your head kicked in by two junkies.

You finished undressing and tried to spend the least amount of time under the water because of the present company. Little vague snippets of what you could recall from last night ran through your fingers as fluidly as the water. The sump. The factory. The vents. And the sound of that gun firing. You could still taste the metallic tinge on your gums as you thought about what you witnessed. Your movement slowed to a crawl as you lingered on the image, the scene replaying back and forth like a scarred record. The pipes groaned through the thin wall as it continued to push water out of the showerhead, bringing you back to your senses. The water washed away the repeating thought along with the marker on your skin.

You turned the valve off and stepped out, taking a long while to dry and dress as you kept trying to pull up more memories of last night. It was like some kind of uncomfortable slideshow, no wonder you ended up drinking so much. You changed into your not-so-newer clothes, an unlikely gift from a landlord you were assuming hated you. Dark and faded but new-ish slacks, a blue button-down that was one size too big for you. Old wool socks that had most of its holes patched. To someone across the river, they wouldn’t even donate this stuff. But to you? It was quite literally the one thing you needed. You gathered your old clothes and tossed them in one big ball at your suitcase still hanging open by your bed, scooping up your jacket as you passed by.

“Are a fifth of whiskey and a single tomato the only things you have in your house that’s food grade?” Lest asked when you caught her looking into your refrigerator as you rounded the corner. She batted the door with her hand inattentively, swinging it back and forth in small movements before closing it shut with a single push.

“No way, there’s whiskey in there?” You quipped as you brushed past her. You put on your jacket, then took a leaning sit against the doors of your lower kitchen cupboards.

“When was the last time you bought groceries?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged sheepishly. “I’m more of a buy by the meal kind of person, I guess.”

“When was the last time you ate, then?”

You hummed in thought, though you only were dragging the answer to her question. “Last tuesday, I think? Probably then.”

“And you’ve been surviving off what? Bar peanuts and grain alcohol?”

“And these little cracker things that I’m given at the stalls up the road.” You articulated, drawing a little square in the air. “I don’t know what they make them out of but they’re saltier than a mineral lick-” Your humor deflated when you looked back to Lest’s unamused stare. “What can I get for you, miss?”

“Results.” She batted her eyes once, awaiting a real answer. It made sense, the switch up. You rushed her for money, now she rushed you for results. Cash didn’t buy time, it shortened it. It was the mitigation of society, and its erosion. It was all that you needed. So you could swallow the bitter pill of grovelling after another paper trail. Maybe all it took to convince you was a pretty face and a cigarette shared.

“Listen.” You exhaled a very audible and lengthy sigh. You mulled over how to break what happened to Aquil to her. You weren’t sure just how invested she was in this guy. Was he just a client? Were they friends, then would she be friends with someone like him? Did she know him well, or not at all? More so? You shook yourself out of that kind of thinking, it felt wrong to theorize about someone like that. “I don’t think that guy is going to be a recurring client anymore.”

“What did you do to him?” Lest asked sternly, bowing her head slightly and looking up at you past the black end of her nose. You were used to the inconsequential disappointment she had shown you so far, but this was different. This was like staring down a wild cougar, and you weren’t sure whether to talk, or run.

“I didn’t do anything at all to him.” You threw your open hands up concedingly. You stared at her silently, the words you wanted to say catching on your lips as you slowly lowered your posture. You weren’t good with things like this. You barely could handle breaking bad news to people, and this was beyond that scope. “He-” You paused. “He’s dead, miss.”

“Oh.” Lest stated plainly. It was like watching a tire deflate in slow motion. The tenseness in her expression slowly faded bit by bit, her body language laxing until she too took a sitting lean against your kitchen cabinet. Mirroring you in a way, adjacent in front of you. You read her eyes, her silent language, the way she held her elbow with one hand while the other put a thumb to her lips. There was regret stirring in her, sure, but not grief. Her stare at the ground held dejection, but also thorough thought.

“Did you know him at all? Know well, I mean.” You inquired hesitantly.

“Aquil? No.” She shook her head softly. “I mean, in a way. We were from the same neighborhood, but it wasn’t like I knew him back then.”

“Back then?” You asked. You retrieved a half-crumpled pack of cigarettes from your pocket, a leftover from the previous night. You took a second to find the least creased one, then offered it to Lest.

“You have to be from Zaun to really understand. It’s an old country without a new one. Things felt and looked a lot different when I was a child. The sump used to be a real community, it had to be. We were packed down there like sardines in a can. Slums, sure. Poor, sure. But a bond? That’s all we had.” Lest simpered with a half-feigned smile. “It’s always so strange to hear about someone, who grew up a block away from you, dying. You hear that kind of news from now and then, but the feeling doesn’t really change.” Lest took the cigarette gracefully, lighting it with her classic scratch lighter. “How did it happen?”

“The people he was meeting up with decided that he was a loose end, I guess.” You paused, bowing your head into her peripheral. “Can I get you water? I don’t have any food, but there's stalls up the road, like I mentioned before.”

“No, no water. It just makes me thirsty.”

“How’s that?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Lest flicked her cigarette with her thumb by the filter, ashing it onto your floor without thinking. “Why did they do that? What happened to Aquil, I mean.”

“I think he figured out too much for his own good.” You shrugged. “He learned one too many names, and that meant he had to go.”

“Names. Whose name?”

“I’m not sure, someone I’ve never heard of before. He just mentioned a person called Lenare. And then what happened, happened. Do you know it?”

“Lenare…” Lest hummed in thought, then took a drag of the cigarette. “No, not really. Lenare.” Lest paused, her eyes reading the space in front of her, then flicking back to you. “It sounds a bit rich to be from around here, don’t you think?”

“Rich, sure.” You nodded. “But Piltover rich? No.”

“Did they mention anyone else?” Lest took another drag of the cigarette. “Anything else that could have given you an idea of where they came from?” She exhaled the smoke with her words in one breath.

“I mean-” You paused. You already followed up the lead about the bar, there was no point bringing it up. You didn’t really want to gloat that you got into a fist fight over a drink the previous night, though she seemed to already figure that out on her own. “One of them mentioned prying the other off a black cat. The bar I went to last night was the only black cat I know, and they weren’t anywhere to be found.”

“Huh.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Did they say ‘the’ black cat? Or ‘a’ black cat?” Lest hummed in thought.

“I don’t think it makes any difference.” You shrugged. The question was rather semantic. The men could have said it any kind of way, it didn’t really change all too much. Besides, your memory of it was still in a blur.

“It makes a world of difference, detective.” Lest pulled her stare from a thousand yards, planting it on you as you made eye contact with her. “Did they say ‘a’ black cat, or ‘the’ black cat?” She asked again firmly before flicking her cigarette once more.

“They just said black cat, I think.” You murmured. “Like I said, the only black cat I know was a dive bar in the lanes.”

“Black cat isn't the name of a place.” Lest paused. “It’s the name of a person.”

The icy wind blowing off the eastern seaboard tended to be cut down by the aggregate of taller buildings in South Piltover. Though it was across the bridge from the triumph of the Piltover of the new age, the South district retained a modicum of its splendor in relative safety. Low, paved streets towered over by stone city dwellings, tight packed offices, lackluster institutions, commerce halls, and expensive skinny townhouses. A wave of neo-classical mixing into a newly emerging art deco design of architecture.

Your heavy work boots clacked against the smooth pavement of the lower city’s sidewalks in a tandem temp with your boss’ light step. You kept your hands stuffed into your jacket pockets in your usual manner as you walked, keeping yourself alongside Lest as both of you knew where you were headed. You had been distracted from your thorough conversation for a moment as you absently looked over your shoulder to make sure there wasn’t anybody trailing behind you two. Not that you’d need any reason to think so, but you can never afford to not be too careful until you’re over the river and bridge. And you never cross that bridge, not ever.

“Besides the point, I think it was a conservatory before that techno-whose-it church bought the building. Never been in it myself, but at least they kept the greenhouses intact. It’s the only pretty thing about the place anymore.” Lest commented, finishing an answer to your question about a building you had passed only a block away.

The building had been taken over by a sect of the church of the Gray Lady, some technology cult that helped the down-and-outs of the fissures. Nowadays, the place had been boarded up and kept a shut up secret behind a terrifically tall iron barred fence. Some even wonder if anybody even occupied the place, or if it was simply bought and left alone once more.

“Come again?” You asked, turning back from looking over your shoulder.

“Are you religious at all, detective?” Lest asked as she kept pace alongside you. It was more like you were trying to keep up with her, the way she’d walk.

“Me?” You chuckled. “I mean- I’m not a believer in anything.” You paused. “But I’m also not a non-believer, you know? There’s enough mythos to go around in the world, anything could really catch me. I guess I just haven’t been given the opportunity for it. The only god here in Piltover and Zaun is progress, I suppose.”

“It’s all relative, you’re right. Just happenstance.” Lest shrugged. “People here in Zaun aren’t really given that opportunity.”

“What about you?” You asked sheepishly. “I thought the Vastaya were supposed to be descended from the Arcana? Isn’t that all second nature to you?”

“I thought Humans descended from the apes? Why aren’t you all swinging from branches and flinging your excrement at each other? Isn’t that your second nature as well?” Lest retorted with a snort as she walked. She glanced at you, a look that you knew all too well by now. It was time to pay the cigarette tax. “Things change, detective. Like I said, it’s all happenstance. Did you know, in Stonewall, they worship goats? Just because they give the people milk.”

“It’s all harmless, though.” You chuckled. You took your creased pack of cigarettes from your coat pocket and tried to find the second best from the one you had offered her earlier in your apartment. “Everyone needs hope, you know?”

“That’s the irony of it, though.” Lest remarked as she took the cigarette you passed her. “People look for hope anywhere, but never in themselves. It’s like a disease that makes you blind to it.”

“Okay, hold the line.” You shook your head as you came to a sudden pause on the pavement. This whole analytical game Lest liked to play was beginning to wrack your nerves, it was pedantic. Lest came to a stop as well, turning to you as she lit the cigarette. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“This whole psychological semantic philosophy. That people are categorized and hope is a disease. It’s an old act, Lest.”

“I’m supposed to be playing an act, now?” Lest raised an eyebrow.

“This whole jaded mystique and smoke stained glamour.” You paused, gesturing to Lest’s whole self. “And what’s with this cardinal press girl look?”

“What’s with your washed-out sleuth getup, hm?” She flashed you a smirk. “I wasn’t informed that part of your contract entailed a critique of my person, detective.” Lest continued walking ahead of you, disregarding whether you were following her or not.

“I’m just trying to get you to lighten up a little.” You huffed as you jogged to catch up with her now fast stride. “I’d appreciate it if you’d just take some time to talk to me normally.”

“Lighten up.” Lest snorted at the comment. “Or is it that you just want to pick my brain? Oh so badly, detective.”

The both of you rounded the next corner at a junction in the street. You glanced at the street sign sticking out from its post, the name reading Drop Street. The turn at the corner opened up the view of the descender stations. They were little metal shacks, of sorts, sticking out of the ground by the sidewalk like covered entrances to a subway. They were solid in structure, kept together as one giant unanimous welded piece. Two wide entrances stood opposite from one another, kept open by a folding grate fence. A large solid metal beam bridged the gap between the tall rooftops of the buildings lining the wide road. Huge winch systems hung from two points on either side of the beam, the wire being held back by metallic struts as they latched onto both of the descenders adjacently.

Lest stepped into the unclean cabin of the left descender first, as she had still insisted on walking just a tad bit faster than you. You stepped in second, your eyes kept glued to where you placed your foot. The descenders were held up by only the wire, and if they weren’t there then it’d just be a stark hole in the ground. As you stepped onto the carriage, you watched it wobble and reveal a peak of the dark descent into the earth when the metal flooring moved away from the ledge.

You hated heights. It wasn’t falling that scared you, it was the height itself. You couldn’t explain it well, not even to yourself. You kept a cool composure despite the glimpse of how far the tunnels really went. To your right when you stepped in, a large lever stuck out of the metal flooring. It was elongated with a squeeze trigger, sticking out from a wide semicircle cap that had been painted with black marks. Single tallies, three in all. First was for the Promenade, second for Entresol, third for the top levels of the Sump. As you knew far too well, the only way to get to the bottom was to go by foot. You squeezed the handle onto the lever, pulling it back until it reached the second mark. The winches hanging above you began to whirr, their motors jumping to life after being given a command. After a short moment, the wire fences folded back out and the cabin shrugged, then began to slowly descend into the hole.

You and your employer found yourselves engulfed in darkness once the cabin had fully descended through its slot, moving through the hole burrowed through the earth. You looked for her in the dark, trying to catch the glow of her cigarette that seemed to have gone out. It was just the wall of darkness in front of you, the twitching pings of the taught cables, and the hollow hushed flow of wind flowing through the tunnel. The scratch of zinc on flint startled you a bit as a small flame emerged from Lest’s lighter. She brought it up to relight her cigarette between her lips, the flame illuminating a portion of her deadpan face. The light glared off her eyes, turning them into wide saucers of yellow before the flame went out and the darkness returned once more.

The descender lowered through its exit in the earth, bringing light from the Promenade level as the cabin descended over the boundary markets in full rush hour. You quickly averted your eyes to look at anything else before Lest noticed that you had been trying to stare at her the whole time. You looked out at the boundary markets through the metal grating. Merchants running their stalls that were hobbled together by rotted wood, bent nails and tattered tarps, all in rows numbering by the dozen. You saw the common man, the vagrants and the people just trying to get by. Scavengers with wheelbarrows full of junk, and urchins running about begging for money that nobody had to spare. You watched a line of people, which winded all the way to the end of the market boundary and disappeared behind the side of a tall brutalist structure, a cathedral of sorts. The line moved forward body by body, each person waiting to buy what measly foodstuffs they could afford.

People were hungry. This whole damn city was hungry. You were hungry. You forgot about food for so long, remembering it made your stomach churn. “Give me a hit of that.” You muttered to Lest as you turned back and extended your arm.

Lest gave you a confused, yet curious look, a flare of her amber eyes. One that told you to get your own, but with an air of sympathy as she read your tense expression. She passed you the cigarette reluctantly, and you took a heavy drag. “Sometimes I wonder if you can handle ideas that go beyond what you’re going to wear, or eat for lunch.” Lest muttered, finally commenting on your conversation from before.

“I don’t eat lunch, remember?” You faked a chuckle, then took another heavy drag and passed it back. “Have you ever been hungry, miss?”

“We all have.” Lest shrugged.

“No, I mean real hunger. The kind of feeling that makes you want to eat a handful of dirt, or bark off a tree. The kind of hunger that makes you shake. The kind that makes you stop being hungry if you ignore it for long enough.”

There was a long pause between you two. The only company in the way of sound being the murmur of the busy streets below and the creaking. Lest didn’t look at you, keeping her eyes to her cigarette as she moved it around between her fingers. She took a final drag of it, put it out on the metal, then pushed it through the hole in the grate. “Like I said, detective.” She glanced at you, then back to the grate where her stare remained. “There’s things that you’d never guess in your wildest dreams.”

The descender reached the bottom of the Promenade level and cut through the earth once more, travelling deeper into the Entresol and returning the cabin to the pitch darkness of before. The darkness returned with the silence between you two. That invisible wall felt like it was being built back up brick by brick. What felt like an eternity passed, just the two of you and the darkness. The cabin emerged from its second pass through the earth, coming out into the light of the second level of the city. The cabin came to a slow, agonizing stop before a raised platform constructed from rebar, old pipes, and corrugated tin sheeting. A grand stand of rust, elevated to allow people to step down into the portion of the Entresol.

You looked out through the thin slits of the gates as they folded back in on themselves with sluggish struggle. The station was in the back end of one of the largest housing projects above the Sump. A shanty town of scrap shacks and hobbled-together structures, packed so tightly within the small space that one would forget that they were in the lanes at all. It was called Drop Street after the one above ground, but local residents had given it a new colloquial name. Alley of alleys, as the only thing that divided the labyrinthian maze of favelas was a single wide lane that split the wall of residencies like a straight, unmoving river.

You peered down the narrow lane, the ending to which seemed to fade into a dark endlessness as the district had barely enough power to spare for lighting the way. It was just a lane of shack houses stacked upon one another, reaching high up and beyond where you could see the end of it. The only main source of light was a harsh mining lamp that hung from a post by the platform, lighting just that portion of the alley in a warm but uncomforting orange glow. The alley split off into separate offshoots, each giving the Alley of alleys its name. In a way, it was like the mine shafts that the people of the Fissures had toiled in a long while ago. It was an ironic mirroring of their serfdom, like the people hadn’t known how else to build a town. Or, they simply couldn’t. And yet nobody walked the street, not a soul. It was like they were ashamed to be seen here.

You glanced back to Lest, who had already strode forward once the gates had retracted. She descended down the staircase of rusted sheet metal that led up to the platform, taking one careful step at a time until she was on solid ground. You half expected her to glance back to you in return, to wait for you to follow. Yet she continued walking as if you weren’t there at all. You got the queue to catch up, and you descended the stairs with a hurry, your work boots stomping the loose metal as you descended.

“I’ve got to ask.” You spoke up, finally catching up to your employer and keeping pace besides her as the both of you took a cautious stroll through the wide lane. “Whoever those guys mentioned, surely they’re not down here. I mean-” You paused, glancing down the offshooting alleys as you passed them one by one. Each lane was labeled with a name embroidered onto sheets of scrappy metal and pinned to the sides of the shanty walls, the only identifier to separate the rows. Waterhall, Captooth, Stormway, Emberfit, Dogheal. All of them sounded much more interesting than they looked, as every glance you gave to each of them held a sadder and more depressing sight than the last. “I don’t think anybody’s down here that wants to be seen.”

“Maybe you’re the one that doesn’t want to be seen down here, detective.” Lest hummed as she walked. She didn’t seem bothered at all by the surroundings, like she’s seen it all before, and worse. “It must be so convenient living up top. I’m sure one forgets places like this exist, once they’re out of sight and mind.”

“It’s not like that.” You muttered. She was talking to you like you lived across the river. Things may be bad down here, but they certainly weren’t perfect around where you lived. You followed Lest as she turned down one of the alleys, one marked with the name Epswell. This lane was as dark as the last, so thin you could barely walk down it. You felt like you were going to bang your shoulders against the scrap walls with every step. You passed door after door after door, like you were wading through and endless purgatory of locked doors and glimpses into impoverished lives through holes in the tin sheets or rifts in walls.

You kept your attention to your boss who walked in front of you. This wasn’t your home, and it wasn’t your business. You were here to follow a paper trail and follow it you would. All the way up to a single door, painted with chipped blood red. A tiny triangular sign dangled from a post above the frame, spelling out the title ‘Madame Blance’s’ in a yellowish glow in the dark paint.

“I know this place.” You hummed, looking up to the sign as Lest finally turned back to you and awaited on the other side of the frame with crossed arms. “I’ve heard of it- I mean.” Madam Blanche’s was almost mythical sounding in the mentions of it you’ve overheard at bars or on the street. It was cheap, it was always open, it was hard and yet so easy to find. It was a brothel. “Why here? It’s not my birthday, you know” You tried to joke to lighten the mood.

“You want to know who Black Cat is?” She crooked her eyebrow, then nodded to the door. She seemed more impatient with you than usual, and you weren’t sure if it was because of the scathing critique you gave her earlier, or if it was because she realized you didn’t belong down here. “You’re just going to have to be brave and head inside.”

“No objections from me, boss” You shrugged, looking back up to the sign again. “How do you know this place?” You snorted. “What, did you hang around here before you picked up painting?”

“Oh, you’re a real comedian, aren’t you?” Lest croaked with a clenched jaw, the feline irked squint in her eye giving you the impression that you should probably stop being a smart ass.

“Right. Right.” You yielded, taking a small step back. “You want to find our lead at the bottom of a whorehouse?” You reached forward and grabbed the knob of the red door. As you turned it, the handle felt so loose you could have pulled it off if you gripped too hard. You pulled the door open towards you, and held it for her. “You lead the way, then.”

𝙽𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛

𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 Taglist: @6selkie @madschiavelique @roku907

#arcane #lest arcane #arcane lest #arcane fic #arcane x reader #canon x reader #lest x reader

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duhitsitadori · 5 months ago

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The Sun Burns Bright Blue (CHAPTER 1)

Synopsis: Based off of Homer’s The Iliad, and very (and I mean very) loosely Madeline Miller’s The Song of Achilles, this fic immerses you into the Homerian world in conjunction with Blue Lock. The story centers around Kaiser and Ness, who play the role of Achilles and Patroclus, but other parts will focus on other events in the Iliad following characters such as Odysseus of Ithaca as Isagi Yoichi, Hector of Troy as Noel Noa, and more.

CHAPTER 1– Alexis

Tags + Tw (please read): Blue lock, The Iliad AU, Kainess, Patroclus!Alexis Ness, Achilles!Michael Kaiser, major VIOLENCE, death, insulting Chapter Summary: Alexis Ness, Prince of Opus never thought he would kill anyone before he became king. That is until he loses to a game of dice. Fandom: Blue Lock Section: Fanfics, 1/29/2025 A/N: Hey y’all! I pitched this about a week ago, and I got a few notes on it. I was going to write it anyways, but I really wanted to write this one so y’all can immerse yourselves in my version of Patroclus Ness. The first chapter is pretty short, just to get a gist of how everything starts for Ness before meeting Kaiser. I’d love any comments, or suggestions. Currently, I’m thinking of making a cast list. Like seriously who the hell am I supposed to make Helen of Troy (or should I say Sparta), Itoshi Rin? A lot of thinking to do… I will be posting this on Ao3 and organizing a section for this on here so again any comments, suggestions, or even critiques are welcome! I’m an English major, so I’m having a lot of fun doing this. Oh, and another thing. Isn't it cool that "Alexis" already has Greek origins?

Life might have been better for Ness as a slave rather than an abandoned and hated prince.

Well, he’d at least hoped his options wouldn’t dwindle down to that. Not before killing a young boy after losing to him at a game of dice.

“You really had to do it this time?” Ness could hear his fathers words echoing in his head. Hot tears were streaming down his face as the infuriated king grabbed the collar of his son's shirt, rocking him back and forth like a pathetic rag doll.

Alexis– his given name meaning “to help or defend”. The gods seemed to have failed him at birth with that name. He failed after all, defending his own kingdom's honor. That is the only thing his father wished from his only son, and here Ness was with blood stained hands begging that same man not to kill him through fervid rage.

“I didn’t mean to! He–”

“You cannot fool me, boy.” his father scowled, leaning in close with a nasty sneer. “You and your silly little games have just ruined me! Us!”

Ness wailed at the truth being ruthlessly spat in his face. Born with an unmatched natural strength, he was easily the best fighter in Opus among the other boys his age. He had ideations of one day becoming King and the best warrior known throughout his land– but not that any of that mattered now.

The cracks and mushy clicks of the boy's skull rang through Ness’ head with each cutting syllable his father yelled. Winner gets to keep the dice, that was the deal. Upon being the best young fighter in Opus, Ness also happened to be the best player. He loved games. The flush in his face that overwhelmed his senses would throw him in a domineering trance, enveloping himself entirely in the thought of crushing his opponent just to see their sour faces. It was a sure way to win, through his insatiable imagination.

“Games”, his father would draw out in one of his lengthy lectures. “Are for common boys. You are a Prince, Alexis. Let me see you with those dice again and you will face the consequences.” with that, his father would stomp away. And though the consequences were never named, Ness would rather not find out.

But of course, that did not stop him.

“You lose!” the boy taunted, pointing an accusing finger at the center of Ness’ face. “Hand them over.”

Hand them over? Ness contemplated. Air tightened in his throat, and he felt the brutal infiltration of reality kick in. “No.” he said, the word leaving his mouth with a strong dip. This wasn’t a part of the picture he was painting in his head. He had played out it in his imagination meticulously, every single probability layed out in front of him. So why? He wasn’t about to give up his one prized possession that he could successfully keep from his father.

The boy's eyebrows furrowed, his eyes blown out dark. “Hey. We had a deal, Prince Ness.” He motioned to snatch the two pieces on the ground, gripping them and holding them close to his puffed out chest, “They’re mine.”

Ness never understood why his father graced every ground he walked on like he owned the very soil beneath his feet. He never asked, but his father always had an answer to his puzzling face. He was not a spectacular parent by any means, but he was a brilliant ruler by all aspects. He’d look over to his son with a precise gaze, a calculated one that Ness only saw when his father was trying to sway a shifty ally to get his way. “What is yours is yours, Alexis.” he would state softly, in the most gentle tone Ness would ever hear from his fathers mouth. “It is only logical. You are a Prince, Alexis.”

You are a Prince, Alexis.

“No,” Alexis stood from the ground where they were playing. The boy looked up at him and his clenched fists, still adamantly clutching on the dice. “They’ve been mine. So they’re mine. Since I made the deal, I’m calling it off. Now give it.”

“Tch,” the boy hissed, standing up to level himself with the prince’s gaze. “Just admit you’re a sore loser and run home to your stupid palace.” he insulted, beginning to walk away with the dice. Just then, Ness thought he might just dig himself into the ground. He did lose. It wasn’t fair. But it really wasn’t fair when the arrogant boy chose his own fate by looking over his shoulder to leave one last blow on the pretentious young prince.

“Besides,” he snickered. “Aren’t Princes not supposed to be playing games anyway? Pretty pathetic to me.” he swiveled his head, flopping one proud foot forward after the other. “No wonder your father thinks you’re unfit to rule. Everyone knows.”

Ness spit through his jaw. Before he knew it, he found himself lunging off his right foot towards the boy who he obviously dwarfed in size. His vein-popped hand gripped his shoulder with a harsh squeeze, and spun him around to face his heated expression. The Prince gripped the boy's jaw, hunching his lean back over the boy's trembling body. “Who in Zeus’ name do you think you’re talking to?” Ness barked, his hand traveling down to the boy's delicate throat– untouched, and thin. He’s probably never seen a day of training in his life, the Prince thought. The boy squeaked, surrendering to Ness’ firm hold while his helpless arms flailed to the side of his skinny waist. Ness tightened his knuckles, humming in satisfaction as his game opponent attempted to let out measly coughs and half muttered apologies. “P-Please–” the now purple-faced boy pleaded.

“I already asked.” Ness coldly interrupted.

The prince loosened his grip ever so slightly, pulling his face in so he and the boy's noses were touching. His lips formed into a sickly upturn, his eyes fluttering into a forced sympathetic expression. “Hah,” Ness’ breath hitched, close enough that the boy could feel its intense assertion deflect off his own skin. “Forgive me. Now, give it back–”

“NO–” the boy somehow said, managing to yell in response. Ness always thinks it's impressive, the way even fallen and weak soldiers muster up the courage to defy their superiors. A wash of black consumes him before he can even deduce that what he’s doing might cost him everything, but he lifts the boy's head and smashes it into the wall behind him anyway.

The boy lets out a staccato-like moan, and his eyes roll back going white. Eventually, Ness sees it when he comes out of his murderous rage: the deep crimson red that pours and bleaches the surface behind the boy's head. The weight grows heavy in the Prince’s grip, and his muscles go limp releasing the dead body. Gravity pulls the boy quickly to the ground, a loud plop sounding through the space around them. Ness lets out a gasp, stepping back from his victim.

He stares at the curdled figure, blood still streaming and making small rivers into the dirt. “No,” Ness whispered. “No,” he repeated. “No!” he sobbed, reaching for his playmate picking him up behind his head. His knees were sure to be scraped by the rocky terrain beneath him the way he was scrabbling to pointlessly shake the boy awake in every place he could think to touch. His forearms, his shoulders, his knees, even his feet– every place he could think of was dead. He’s dead. And his hands are all the proof to show for it.

Ness after minutes of trying to revive the boy finally meets his eyes. The wide and lifeless expression looks back at him without vitality, and will never again return to this world. Ness chews his bottom lip, and let's go with a guilty roar. The dice sits idly on the ground, both rolling on the side of two, making a sum of four.

But Ness doesn’t even bother to pick them up. He runs home, like the boy told him to.

—

#duhitsitadoriwrites #alexis ness #michael kaiser #the iliad #the song of achilles #patrochllies #Homer #blue lock #I am a little too excited to write the rest of this lol #I will make the sections and link my ao3 soon I promise #please enjoy!#english major type activities #type shi #The Sun Burns Bright Blue #CHAPTER 1- Alexis

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ourtearsofrain · 1 year ago

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Slow It Down (D.R.W/S.F.K)- Chapter 1

Summary: Almost three years after escaping to New York for college, Danny finally returns to Frankenmuth for the summer, welcomed with open arms by all his family and old friends. All but one. With Sam’s apparent hatred of him, Danny must try to get through the summer with him hanging over his life like a storm cloud, darkening each day spent with their families.

Pairings: Danny Wagner x Sam Kiszka

Genre: ANGST, brotherly fluff

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: none for this ch? Some shit between Danny and Sam is alluded to but not addressed fully. Also day drinking lol

A/N: I’m so excited to share this new series with y’all, I hope you like it. The series as a whole, as well as specific dialogue/comments/thoughts, are based off a handful of angsty heartbreaking songs that I will post an “unofficial playlist” for, so look for that at the bottom of a masterlist post for this series soon! Make sure to fill out the taglist form in my bio if you want to be tagged in any updates for this or future works! Thanks for reading!

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June 19th, 2020, 5:07 pm.

It had been two years, ten months, and 15 days since Danny had spoken to Sam. Two years, ten months, and 15 days since he had felt fully whole. And two years, ten months, and 15 days full of regret. But who was counting, right?

Danny was. He had begun counting the second he boarded that plane with a one-way ticket out of Frankenmuth, headed straight for “The Big Apple” to start his life over. Away from his family, away from his high school friends and the worst of all, away from Sam. Thankfully Josh had already moved to New York the second he graduated, studying Film Production at Columbia University and practically adopting Danny the second he got there, making sure he was adjusting to the city well and spending as much time with him as their schedules allowed. Coincidentally, Josh’s former roommate had decided to move out right before Danny made the choice to go to New York, leaving the second bedroom of his apartment open for him to fill.

As the distance between Sam and him increased, Danny only became closer to the twins. Even though they had treated him like he was their younger brother ever since he moved in next to the Kiszka’s at age seven, living with Josh who called Jake on facetime every day truly made them the older brothers he had always wished for.

“Can I get you anything, sir?”

Danny removes his forehead from the cool glass of the plane window, turning to see a flight attendant standing expectantly in the isle with a too-sweet smile. “Oh, uh no I’m ok, thanks.”

“Alright then. Just letting you know we should be landing in about 20 minutes, so could you please fasten your seatbelt?”

Danny glances down, realizing he hadn’t re-buckled his belt after he had gone to the bathroom to stretch his legs and pull himself together as his family would surely be waiting for him at the luggage return. “Of course, my bad.” He re-buckles it before leaning his head back against the seat as she walks away, closing his eyes and praying that the next few months of his life would pass quickly.

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Grey suitcase, purple tag. Grey suitcase, purple tag. Grey suitcase, purple tag. Shit, there it is. Danny rushes to grab his bag, feeling claustrophobic as the luggage return fills with more and more people. Go out the door, find the car. Out the door, find the car. Drive home and pray he’s not there. It takes him mere seconds to find his parents’ car as his mom frantically waves from across the lot, grinning as she darts between the traffic the instant she sees Danny.

She tackles him in a hug as she rocks them back and forth, her grip on him crushing as he tries to keep his balance. “Oh my god you look so good, how was Junior year? Have you been eating enough? Getting out and having some fun right?”

“Hey mom.” He locks his arms around her, hugging her just as tight as he smiles. “It was good, yes I have, and yes I do. You don’t have to worry about me.”

She pulls away teary eyed, still smiling wide at him. “Oh, I know, but that’s my job. And you haven’t been home for so long, how else am I supposed to know how you’re doing?”

“Yeah… sorry about that. You know how it is, between school and work it’s hard to find the time to get back to Michigan for a long visit.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She waves her hand in the air as if she were shooing away his apologies, taking Danny’s suitcase in the other as she leads him to the car. “You’re in college, I get it. You have better things to do than visit us. Like go to parties. And date. Meet any cute girls recently?”

His heart sinks at the question, trying to keep his smile from faltering as they reach her car. “Too busy to try and date right now, mom.” He takes the bag from her, easily sliding it into the trunk as she watches him.

“Bullshit. C’mon, you’re a young, attractive guy. You must have some girls in your lectures throwing themselves at you.”

“You know me, I’m too focused on my studies to pay attention to that. It’s fine, I promise. I’m doing good in New York, living with Josh has been great, I’ve made some good friends. Dating just isn’t at the top of my priorities right now.” He hopes that his explanation will be enough for his mom to drop the topic as they get into the car, her prying being in good intention but only resurfacing old wounds.

“Oh! Speaking of, Karen and Kelly are having a barbeque tonight to celebrate you, Jake and Josh coming home for the summer. Your dad would have come with me to get you but he’s at their place right now helping set up.”

“Great, that’s great. Can’t wait to see everyone again.” Not everyone. Danny tries to keep his mind away from him as he listens to his mom talk throughout the drive, the pit in his stomach only growing as they turn down more and more familiar streets. A small weight lifts off his shoulders when he doesn’t see him in the front yard as they pass the Kiszka’s house, pulling into his childhood home’s driveway, his thoughts louder than his mother’s voice as they get out of the car.

“Danny?”

“Hm?”

“I said, do you want to go settle in and freshen up before you head over?”

“Oh, yeah that’d be great. Sorry, didn’t hear you, must be jetlagged.”

“You’re ok, it’s alright if you need to take a nap before tonight, everyone will completely understand. It took Josh a day to sleep off the travel.”

Danny snorts as he extends the handle of his suitcase, closing the trunk with the other hand. “Yeah, I bet he did. I swear, he gets tired from taking the subway for 15 minutes, can’t imagine him traveling on a plane without at least two naps. Should be alright though, thanks.”

“Of course. Alright, I’m going to go over to the Kiszka’s and let them know you’re here, see if they need any help and all that. The fridge and pantry are stocked up if you need a snack, and your room’s just as you left it.”

“Thanks, mom. Love you, see you in a few.”

“Love you too, Daniel. Don’t take too long.” Her tone is light, joking as she spares a glance behind her to smile before disappearing into the backyard.

It’s just a few hours, it’ll be fine. I can avoid him all night, there should be enough people to do that easily. Just a few hours and then I don’t have to see him all summer. Except he lives next door. And his older brothers are my closest friends and roommate. And our parents are friends. Should be easy to avoid him, right? God, I’m fucking screwed.

The second he reaches his room, he faceplants into his bed, nearly toppling off the edge of the twin after getting accustomed to his queen bed in New York. Rolling onto his back, he finally takes the room in. It was exactly how he left it the last time he visited, unchanged from when he lived there, like everything had frozen in time as he continued on. Everything in his room reminded Danny of a simpler time, of him. Of laying side by side on his too small bed, talking for hours as they stared up at the soft yellow of the Neil Young Harvest poster hung on the ceiling. The old acoustic guitar in the corner they would trade back and forth on his floor for hours now sat dusty and unused. The singe mark on the wood of his windowsill from the time they got too high and let the end of their joint burn out on it. He was everywhere, in everything. Danny could never escape him no matter how far he went, everything always circled back to him. He could grow and change and learn, but Frankenmuth would forever be there to remind him of everything that once was.

Might as well get up and get the party over with instead of sitting here feeling sorry for myself. At the thought, Danny slides off his bed, landing hard on the ground before forcing himself up to find something to change into. After travelling all day, he was eager to get out of his loose jeans and sweatshirt, knowing it was too nice of a day to be comfortable wearing that outside.

He opens his suitcase unenthusiastically, hoping that he had remembered to pack at least one pair of shorts. Thankfully, he had, and he finds his (quite short) yellow shorts and his Howlin’ Wolf muscle tee in no time, changing quickly and slipping into his old, slip on vans before trudging down the stairs and out the front door, heading straight for the Kiszka’s backyard.

“DANNY!” The second he walks through the side gate, Danny only sees the blur of Jake before he slams into him, knocking the wind from his lungs as he loses his footing, falling backwards and pulling Jake down with him.

When he catches his breath, Danny wraps his arms around the other man with a grin as they lay on the soft grass. “Jake! Great to see you, man. Missed you.”

Jake loosens his grip before getting up and offering Danny a hand to pull him up. “Missed you too, it’s been way too long.”

“DANNY!” This time it’s Josh who slams into him, practically jumping into his arms as Danny catches him. “I’ve missed you so much, it’s been way too long since we’ve seen each other.” He fake sobs into his neck, pulling out everything he learned from the years of theater he did in high school to put on his act.

“We live together, Josh. I saw you three days ago.” Danny’s voice is flat, but he can’t help a smile from creeping onto his face as Josh pulls away from him grinning.

“Yeah, I know, but I still missed you.” After Danny makes his rounds of teary hugs with his dad, Karen, and Kelly, he looks around the yard, hating himself for noticing his absence.

“Sam’s inside cutting some watermelon, he’ll be out soon.” Karen says with a smile, picking up on what he was looking for and thinking her comment was helpful.

“Oh, great. That’s great.” They don’t know. He never told them.

“C’mon Danny, Josh and I started day drinking an hour ago, you gotta catch up to us.”

“Jacob!” Karen swats his arm as he passes her, already on his way to start making a drink for Danny.

“What? He’s 21 now, it’s legal.”

Danny’s smile is wiped clean off his face as he hears the back door slide open, turning to see Sam standing frozen in the doorframe with a large bowl of watermelon in his hands. Say something. Say something or it’ll be weird. “Hey Sam.”

Sam’s expression is as flat as his voice when he speaks. “Daniel.”

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taglist: @gretnavannfleet @aioba1503-sdm

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Next Chapter

#greta van fleet #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf fic #daniel gvf #sam gvf #sanny gvf #greta van angst #greta van fluff #sam kiszka x danny wagner #sam kiszka #danny wagner

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from-stars-to-shadows · 11 months ago

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Ch2: Not-A-Date.. Date

A Jamie & Kaden Fic (No ship names in this house can you read? It's a not date /lh)

Words: 1,366 (Tel me whhhyyy!? lmao)

Cw: They're Gross (/cute) // Maybe you want to slap 'em a lil lol

Summary: Ready for another not date?

Chapter 1 ||

The evening air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of rain as Kaden stepped out of their apartment, their heart doing an unexpected somersault at the thought of seeing Jamie again. They had spent an absurd amount of time picking out their outfit, settling on a casual ensemble that looked effortlessly cool—a thin sweater that hugged their frame just right and a pair of well-worn jeans. It wasn't a date, Kaden reminded themselves, but the butterflies in their stomach disagreed vehemently.

Jamie was already waiting outside the quaint little bookshop, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, rocking back on his heels with a nervous energy that Kaden found endearing. He greeted them with a lopsided grin that made Kaden's resolve to keep things casual waver slightly.

"No camera today, huh?" Kaden teased, their voice coming out steadier than they felt.

Jamie chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. "I promised, didn't I? But I can't say the same for you," he added with a playful nudge, nodding toward the phone in Kaden's hand.

Kaden gave a playful scoff and rolled their eyes. "This" Kaden wiggled their phone in their hand, without noticing that their camera had indeed turned on, Kaden nor Jamie was aware of this fact as Kaden was staring at Jamie the whole time "Is for call only, none of that" Kaden 'pretended' to snap photos of Jamie while they stared at him "snap snap gotta document everything like someone I know~" Kaden teased, their tone wasn't mocking in any sense, it was light and playful and the whole time Kaden was smirking. Their phone ended up locking right after their little shake of the phone once more "Calls only sir~"

Jamie grinned, raising his hands in surrender, "Alright, alright but I did say you could if you wanted to. I really don't mind. Let's head in"

Inside the bookshop, the air was thick with the musty scent of old books and the quiet whispers of literary adventures waiting to be discovered. Jamie led the way, his fingers grazing the spines of books as they walked down the narrow aisles. Kaden followed close behind, their gaze occasionally drifting to the man in front of them, admiring the way Jamie's eyes lit up when he talked passionately about his favourite authors.

They bantered back and forth, recommending titles to each other, sometimes disagreeing, but always with an underlying current of mutual respect and attraction. Kaden found themselves leaning closer to Jamie as they shared a laugh over a particularly ridiculous book cover, their shoulder brushing against his arm. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through them, and Kaden quickly stepped back, feigning interest in a nearby shelf.

Jamie noticed as Kaden pulled away swiftly, pretending to be interested in a dust jacket. Still, the flush on their cheeks betrayed the thrill of the accidental touch. It was clear that this outing, though casually framed as 'not a date' was stirring something deeper for both of them and it made Jamie smile.

Eventually, they emerged from the bookshop, arms laden with new purchases, and made their way to the nearby Italian restaurant Jamie had picked out for dinner. Over plates of pasta and glasses of wine, their conversation flowed as easily as it had in the café where they first met. They talked about everything and nothing, the world around them fading into background noise as they lost track of time.

Later, as they stood outside the restaurant, the night had deepened around them, casting a soft glow from the streetlights above. There was an awkward pause, the kind that hung in the air before a first kiss, but instead, Jamie offered a shy smile and a simple, "Thanks for tonight."

The ambient hum of the city seemed to quiet down, leaving only the sound of his own heartbeat echoing in his ears. He could see the uncertainty flicker across Kaden's face, mirroring his own nervousness. A part of him yearned to lean in, to bridge the gap between them, but he hesitated, unsure if the timing was right. Instead, he mustered a grateful smile and uttered a soft thank you, hoping it conveyed more than just gratitude for the shared meal.

Kaden nodded, their throat suddenly tight. "Y-Yeah, me too…" They glanced over at Jamie, whose presence seemed to fill the space around them with a palpable tension. Kaden's heart raced, thumping wildly against their ribcage as they searched for the right words, the right gesture. They settled on that quiet expression of thanks, their voice barely above a whisper. The words felt hollow, insufficient to encapsulate the whirlwind of emotions stirring within them. With that, they parted ways.

As Jamie began to walk away, Kaden felt a viselike grip on their heart. They watched Jamie's silhouette blend into the night, a silent wish lingered. It was a strange mix of relief and regret that washed over them when Jamie finally disappeared from view. Relief that they hadn't acted impulsively, that they hadn't risked what they were building with a premature move. Yet, there was an unmistakable twinge of regret for not seizing the moment, for not taking the chance to show Jamie how deeply they were starting to care…Always got to be indifferent and tough huh? Kaden scoffed at themselves.

As Jamie walked along the sidewalk, hands stuffed into his pockets, a pang of longing struck him. There was something undeniably compelling about Kaden, something that made him want to stay, to explore whatever this was starting between them. But he knew he needed to take things slow, to respect the boundaries of their budding friendship. With each step away from Kaden, Jamie couldn't shake the feeling that this encounter was merely the beginning of something much more significant.

Back at their apartment, Kaden kicked off their shoes and flopped onto the couch, their mind replaying the evening's events. On autopilot, they reached for their phone, scrolling through the photos they had taken throughout the day. And then, there it was—a candid shot of Jamie, completely unaware, his guard down and a genuine smile playing on his lips. Kaden's heart skipped a beat as they studied the image, the warmth in Jamie's expression making their cheeks flush with colour.

Just as they were about to close the photo, their phone buzzed, and a new message lit up the screen. It was from Jamie, and the words made Kaden's pulse quicken:

-> Had a great time tonight.

"Ah~!" Kaden quickly tossed the phone to the other end of the couch, as if they were just caught red-handed staring at a candid photo of him. Kaden paused for a moment then shook their head, their eyes rolling as they crawled over the couch to grab their phone "You idiot-- it's a text message, not like he's in the room with you…gods.."

With a sigh, Kaden unlocked their phone again, their fingers hovering over the screen as they read Jamie's full message:

-> Had a great time tonight. These 'not dates' are becoming my favourite non-tradition. How about we continue not dating soon? :)

A grin spread across Kaden's face, their earlier embarrassment forgotten. They tapped out a response, their thumbs flying over the keyboard:

<- I think our 'not dating' record is looking pretty solid. We might just have to keep it up ;)

Pressing send, Kaden settled back into the cushions, the warmth of the evening still clinging to them. They couldn't deny the pull they felt with Jamie, nor did they want to anymore. Kaden realized that perhaps these 'not dates' were exactly what they needed—an opportunity to explore something real, without the pressure of labels or expectations.

-> You pick the spot next time? :)

<- Alright, I have one in mind, hope you like being outside a lot. ;P

Maybe, just maybe, they would lead to something more, something beyond the safe confines of their 'not a date-date' agreement. For now, though, Kaden was content to enjoy the ride, wherever it might lead them.

Tagging: @mauls-waifu || @dragonsmooch || @mahitosoulmate || @heatobrienswife || @kylilah

#uh ohhhhhh~ <3 #Debating on not the next chapter but the one after it.. might throw in some delicious angst :3c ya know to keep it on its toes #IReallyDoWantAShipNameForHeAndI...#just dunno what #{📷💕}#The Rose Without Thorns

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cb-writes-stuff · 11 months ago

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I think my characters are too nice, patient, and forgiving. What if they were mean? What if they ran out of patience? What if they were annoyed with each other?

Hehehe… And the best part…

What if they then had to have dinner together?

Metacommentary below the cut because it wouldn’t fit in the tags.

A good novel has a back and forth, specifically between positive and negative moments. The idea is that if a scene starts positive, it should end negative, and vice versa. This keeps things from feeling stale or stagnating. But if the characters are always cordial and forgiving, then there’s no conflict to be resolved, and there’s no negative. That’s why utopian books and maybe some slice-of-life stuff is boring: nothing bad happens. I don’t like making my characters hurt each other, even in the tiniest of ways, but it makes the scenes interesting to read and interesting to write.

On the other hand, if the characters are always moody and abrasive, then the conflicts are never resolved, and theres no negative. So for the same reason as utopian literature and poorly written slice-of-lifes, teenage-angsty stories, dystopias, and anything grimdark are so unattractive: nothing good happens. (Again, only when it’s poorly written. There are examples of these things done well.) And if the world itself is unforgiving, then there’s never any hope.

What’s considered “positive” and “negative” is entirely dependent on context. Typically, positives are stronger in comparison to negatives; that is, it takes less positive to balance (or outweigh) negative. On a bright, sunny day with not a cloud in the sky, what’s one little raindrop? But when you’ve hit rock bottom, given up with nothing left to lose, that one ray of light can mean everything.

Let’s say a character just got a big promotion at work—that’s a positive. Okay, so we need to balance it out with a negative. So, he goes to the gas station, buys a lottery ticket, and doesn’t win. Doesn’t that just suck? No, it doesn’t suck. He can very easily move on from it. A better negative would be his car getting rear-ended while the boss was shaking his hand. Yes, he’s probably not worried financially, but he has to deal with his insurance company, find the person who rear-ended him, and he has to do something with the car. That’s not a problem he can just walk away from.

Let’s consider the opposite. A character is sent to prison for a horrible crime she didn’t commit. She couldn’t afford a good lawyer, the case was stacked against her. And just when she was about to start her new job. The interview went so well and everything. (Eh? See? Back and forth.) So a few days after the hearing, she’s sitting in her cell when the guard comes around—“Hey, turns out you were found innocent on that petty theft, so that’s a few months off your 70 to life.”. That is a near-meaningless positive. It is not something significant to her, and barely changes the situation at all. Instead, a better positive would be she’s sitting in her cell, when the guard comes around—“Mail call.” The guard slips her a letter. She opens it, and covers her mouth in teary-eyed shock. It’s from her boyfriend, and it says, “I’ll wait for you.”

This back-and-forth idea applies to whole chapters, too. If the chapters starts out negative, it should end positive.

(And yeah, I made this post instead of writing. Oh well.)

#i’m so evil #writing #writer #writers #writer mood #writer jokes #writer humor #writing memes #writeblogging #writeblr #cb writing stuff #meta commentary #writing meta #writing stuff

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mo-the-gremlin-dandelion · 3 months ago

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Happy Coradrag AU - Doomed Love Anyone? (Part 4)

Happy Coradrag AU Masterlist

Summary:

Rosinante and Dragon falling in love.

This gonna be real happy and then real sad. Also very long, so it had to be split into three four parts.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

Warning: Awkward flirting + cheesy pickup-lines. Dragon and Rosinante are dorks. Implied NSFW. ANGST - Mention of torture, murder, beheading, and Doflamingo.

Context:

Couldn't find a name for it, so we are calling Sengoku's goat Merriweather (like the Merry).

First part of this for a rough timeline guide.

Happy Coradrag AU - Meeting Rosinante

Garp adopted Kuzan and Dadan. DDK Childhood // DDK Childhood 2

Dragon - 35 to 36 (Birthdate: October 5)

Rosinante - 20 (Birthdate: July 15)

Ace - 2 (Birthdate: January 1)

Dadan - 35 to 36 (Birthdate: August 30)

Kuzan - 30 to 31(Birthdate: September 21)

Smoker - 18 (Birthdate: March 14)

Bellemere - 20 to 21 (Birthdate: December 3)

Imagine the One Piece Narrator when you see this: {Words}

Italics = Thoughts

The Newspaper/Notes

Note: This chapter is longer than the other three parts because I refuse to make a part five. This chapter of the series really got away from me, I wasn't expecting to make it into 4 parts. 😂

I try and make chapters/parts no longer than about ten pages (google docs) because I find it easier to read things that way. No hate to long chapters/one-shots that are like 22,000 words long, I love you too. It's just so I know where I left off when the screen scrolls up randomly and I lose my spot.

This chapter (all 4 parts) is 44 pages long on google docs and has 58091 words.

I'm quite proud of myself even if I also think it's not that great in some parts. Thank you to everyone who is enjoying this series so far.

The Following Week - Mid August - Marineford

Dragon and Rosinante had decided to keep their relationship a secret for the meantime. The both of them agreed that it would be a disaster if either of their fathers found out about them right now. Sengoku for being overprotective of his only child despite Rosinante being a literal spy and Garp for being over involved in his children’s lives despite them being, well, his children.

He did raise them in the jungle after all. You’d think he’d know by now that they can take care of themselves.

Anyways, things for Rosinante and Dragon were going well. They were far less awkward around each other. They even already went out on their second date.

They had gone back to the Lose Your Berrie Pub on the following Sunday afternoon after their Friday date, although this was mostly to apologise for the bathroom incident. The owner took it well enough and let them off with a warning.

This time around they didn’t get black out drunk and instead just talked. Rosinante had even brought his camera along to capture the moment. The photo was of them sitting at the bar and looking upwards at the camera. With Rosinante leaning his head on Dragon’s.

They parted ways afterwards, Rosinante giving Dragon a kiss on the cheek before heading home and Dragon went back to his apartment to do paperwork before Ace got back that night.

Neither Garp or Kuzan noticed anything that might be off about Dragon; despite the usually grumpy man looking well rested and happier than normal. They both thought that he was just excited to see Ace again.

Kuzan might have noticed that his brother looked happier than usual if he wasn’t so utterly exhausted. Don’t get him wrong, he loves his nephew, but he didn’t envy Dragon in the slightest. The kid was a chaos monster sometimes.

And said chaos monster was the one to notice.

The toddler was quite perceptive for his age. Dragon assumed that it was something to do with Rouge holding him in for almost two years.

Ace was also very honest.

Which was very unfortunate sometimes.

“Daddy?” Ace asked, tugging on his shirt while he was reading the newspaper.

“Yes Ace?” Dragon replied, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Do you love Rosi?” Ace asked, rocking back and forth in front of him.

Dragon choked and quickly spit his coffee back into the mug.

“Are you okay?!” Aces yelled, trying to climb onto his lap.

“I-I’m good.” Dragon wheezed, while pulling Ace into his lap, “Sorry about that Ace, what was your question?”

“Do you love Rosi?” Ace asked again.

“I-Well… Um… I do like him a lot.” Dragon told him awkwardly, “Why do you ask?”

“Your face gets all red when he’s here.” Ace explained, “You look like Uncle Kuzan when he sees ladies with big chests like gramps.”

Dragon didn’t know whether to laugh or cry in response.

He decided to just put his head in his hand, sigh, and move on.

“I suppose I do get all red don’t I?” Dragon wondered, “Do I look like a tomato?”

“Yes.” Ace laughed, “A big one!”

“Well thank you.” Dragon huffed, laughing, before he took on a more serious tone, “Can you do something for me Ace?”

“What?” Ace asked, confused.

“Can you keep me liking Rosi a secret for now?” Dragon asked.

“Why?” Ace asked, even more confused.

Dragon took a moment to try to figure out how to word something so complicated.

“Do you remember when you told gramps that you liked pirates?” Dragon started cautiously, “And then he went all… feral?”

“Like a dog? I remember.” Ace told him, “It was kind of scary, but funny too.”

“Yes it was.” Dragon agreed, “But he’ll do that again if he finds out about Rosi.”

“Why? Does he not like him?” Ace wondered.

“No, he does. He’s just really… overprotective sometimes.” Dragon explained.

Overprotective is an understatement, Dragon thought, But it’s the only child appropriate answer I have.

“Oh… Okay I won’t tell.” Ace said.

“You won’t?” Dragon was surprised at how easy it was.

“No, gramps is scary when he’s feral.” Ace stated, hopping down to the floor before turning around and asking, “Want to colour?”

“Sure.” Dragon replied.

Saturday - Late August - Marineford

It was supposed to be Dragon’s day off, but some idiot screwed up and paperwork was literally dropped on his doorstep. The ensign that delivered it thought Dragon was scary and decided to just run after knocking.

Dragon could still see him peeking around the corner though, he just pretended not to notice and took the paper inside.

Thankfully, Rosinante was already going to come over, so Ace was preoccupied and wasn’t too disappointed. Dragon just made up for it by letting him have two scoops of ice cream for dessert instead o

It was late now. Rosinante had decided to stay for dinner since Sengoku was away for business. Dragon had just put Ace to bed after he collapsed from his sugar rush and was finishing some leftover paperwork while Rosinante put away the dishes.

Rosinante put the last dishes away when he saw a newspaper that was left on the counter.

“Hey, is this paper from today?” Rosinante asked, walking into the main room.

“Oh, yeah.” Dragon said, looking up, “Completely forgot about it, haven’t gotten a chance to read it yet.”

“Do you mind if I read it then?” Rosinante asked.

“Go right ahead.” Dragon replied, then in a teasing voice said, “Just don’t spoil the ending for me.”

“I’ll try to contain myself.” Rosinante laughed while unfolding the paper.

He looked down and froze when he read the headline.

This can’t be, Rosinante thought, I thought he was dealt with.

Dragon heard a rustling noise and looked up to see that Rosinante was shaking.

“Rosi? Are you okay?” Dragon asked worriedly, the blonde looked like he saw a ghost.

Dragon got up and gently took the newspaper from him.

The headline was: A demon has taken over Spider Miles!

The newspaper went on to say: A young upstart from the North Blue has been making big waves! His name is Donquixote Doflamingo, captain of the Donquixote Pirates. He is ruthless, cunning, and determined to take control. Just recently he has taken over an island called Spider Miles. We assume that he will be using it as his home base.

Will he be the next Pirate King? He sure thinks so. See more on page 3.

There was a picture of a blonde man in a pink feathered coat and oddly shaped sunglasses. The angle made it seem that he was looming over the camera as the picture was taken. His smile or smirk rather made Dragon very uncomfortable in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

“I... I need to go.” Rosinante said quietly, rushing out the front door before Dragon could stop him.

Dragon was left standing in his living room confused.

Rosinante rushed back to his place to call his dad.

He felt bad about leaving Dragon without telling him why, but he couldn’t help it.

Panic and fear had already set in.

His heart was beating so fast that it was the only thing he could hear and he felt his chest tightening. Rosinante was sure he was on the verge of a panic attack.

He got home and was fumbling to get his keys out, swearing like the sailor he was. When he finally got the right key in the lock, he almost tore the door off its hinges.

Rosinante quickly locked it and rushed over to his den-den-mushi, dialing his dad’s number.

“Please pick up. Please pick up.” Rosinante begged while trying not to cry, “Please pick up!”

Then he heard a click.

“Rosinante? What’s wrong?” Sengoku asked worriedly, they had already had their scheduled call yesterday, so something must be wrong for Rosinante to call him so late.

“Did… Did you read the newspaper?” Rosinante sniffled, trying to breathe.

“Oh… Yes, I did.” Sengoku said calmly, “I’m sorry Rosi, I hoped you wouldn’t see it until I got back. You never read the paper and the one time you do… I’m so sorry.”

“I thought he was dead.” Rosinante choked out, still trying to hold back his tears, “How did he survive?��

“Apparently that’s what this meeting was about.” Sengoku told him, sighing as he did.

“What?!” Rosinante asked, shocked.

“When he came to them with… his offering. They turned him away, expecting him to suffer a slow and painful death.” Sengoku explained, “But then he became a pirate and now he’s black mailing them somehow. We are being ordered not to interfere or get involved with him and his actions.”

“So you can’t arrest him?” Rosinante asked in despair.

“No, I can’t. I’m sorry.” Sengoku replied, “I don’t even know how or what he is using to blackmail them with.”

“He’s the first born.” Rosinante whispered.

“What? What does that have to do with anything?” Sengoku asked, confused.

“There are alot of secrets in Mary Geoise and they are told to the first born of every family.” Rosinante explained, “I remember asking Doffy about what he did on those trips, he always bragged and said he couldn’t tell me.”

“So that’s it. I wonder what's so important that they’d agree to his terms.” Sengoku pondered.

“Me too.” Rosinante said.

The two were quiet for a moment, both thinking about what could be hidden away in Mary Geoise. It had to be something life changing for the Celestial Dragons to react to Doflamingo in such a way.

“Are you okay Rosi?” Sengoku asked after a moment, “Are you following those breathing exercises?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Rosinante replied, “Guess I just needed a good cry and talk.”

“You sure?” Sengoku said, “I can stay up longer.”

“No you can’t.” Rosinante said, “It's already past your bedtime.”

“Hey! I’m not that old!” Sengoku grumbled.

“Yes you are.” Rosinante laughed, “Remember New Years? You fell asleep on the coach before nine!”

“You’re never going to let that go are you?” Sengoku sighed.

“No, never.” Rosinante teased.

They both laughed at that

“When then goodnight Rosi.” Sengoku said, sighing, “I love you son. And don’t worry too much about your brother, we’ll be keeping tabs on him in the meantime.”

“Thanks dad.” Rosinante said, “I love you too.”

He then hung up and just sat on the floor for a bit.

He didn’t even know when he started sitting on the floor.

Rosinante groaned and got up, his butt hurting from sitting on the wooden floor of his apartment.

He locked the door and just rested his head on it for a moment. The cold wood felt good on his feverish skin. He didn’t even realise he was sweating buckets.

His mind drifted, trying to over everything that just happened in the past thirty or so minutes.

Oh god Dragon, Rosinante thought suddenly, He must be so worried!

He rushed back over to the den-den-mushi and dialed Dragon.

Dragon picked up almost immediately.

“Rosi! Are you okay?!” Dragon exclaimed.

“Yeah, I’m good.” Rosinante tried to reassure him, “Just needed to talk with my dad.”

“What happened?” Dragon asked.

He didn’t want to lie to Dragon, so he just didn’t tell him the whole truth.

“Just saw something in the paper that reminded me of bad childhood memories.” Rosinante explained.

“Oh, I’m sorry Rosi.” Dragon softly said, “How are you doing?”

“Tired.” Rosinante replied.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Dragon offered.

“No, I just wanted to apologise for running.” Rosinante explained.

“Oh you don’t have to apologise for that Rosi.” Dragon told him, “It’s okay, I understand. I was just worried about you.”

“Thanks Dragon.” Rosinate said, “I’m gonna go to bed.”

“All right, take care of yourself.” Dragon told him.

“I will.” Rosinante replied.

He hung up and fed his den-den-mushi some lettuce.

Then he kicked off his shoes, breaking something in the process, and literally fell into bed.

He was snoring in a matter of seconds.

Early September - Marineford

They didn’t talk about what happened.

Until one rainy night in September.

The two of them were laying in bed together. Dragon was on his back with Rosinante laying on top of him. Dragon was playing with Rosinante’s hair while the blonde was listening to his heart beat. They peacefully laid in silence until Rosinante spoke up.

“Dragon?” Rosinante whispered.

“Yes Rosi?” Dragon asked, he looked down to see the blonde playing with his chest hair.

“Remember how you asked about my life before Sengoku?” Rosinante questioned him cautiously.

“Yes? What about it?” Dragon replied, starting to get a little worried about Rosinante’s tone.

“I want to tell you about it.” Rosinante said softly.

“You don’t have to.” Dragon tried to reassure him, “I don’t need to-”

“No!” Rosinante shouted while sitting up, before calming down at the sight of the shocked look on Dragon’s face, “I’m sorry, but I need to tell you.”

“Okay.” Dragon quietly said before sitting up as well, “Take as much time as you need to.”

Rosinante sat up against the headboard beside him. He sat with his knees touching his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs with his head on top. After a moment, Rosinante mustered up the courage to continue.

“I… I wasn’t born here.” Rosinante started, “I… I was born up there, in Mary Geoise.”

“What?!” Dragon asked shocked, “How’d the hell did you end up down here?”

Dragon mentally kicked himself when he saw Rosinante wince and curl into himself a little more before the blonde continued his story.

“My father didn’t want to live up there anymore. He wanted us to live like everyone else. He didn’t want to own slaves or hurt people.” Rosinante told him, “So he moved us to a little town in the North Blue, but he was very naive.”

Dragon tried to figure out where this was going and as he would come to learn; it was far more horrible than anything he was imagining.

“I have an older brother. He wasn’t like dad or mom, he was like the other Celestial Dragons. Violent, cruel, and demanding that the town’s people obey him or kneel in his presence. When they didn’t, he threatened to make them slaves.” Rosinante explained, “That’s how the town’s people found out about where we came from.”

Rosinante jumped a little when he felt Dragon wiping away his tears. He didn’t even know he was crying. Dragon just pulled the blonde into his lap and held him close. Rosinante tucked his head into Dragon’s neck and continued.

“I was only six at the time, so while I noticed the tension when we went into town, I didn’t really understand anything. Our parents tried to tell my brother that what he was saying wasn’t right, but he didn’t apologise or change.” Rosinante told him, “One night, a mob came to the house and burnt it down. We luckily got out in time, but we had to start living in the junkyard.”

Dragon started to recall a story his dad had told him years ago. Of a family that was hunted down in the North Blue.

Rosinante let out a deep shuddering breath and Dragon softly patted him on the back to sooth him.

“It’s okay.” Dragon whispered into Rosinante’s hair, “You don’t have to continue. I understand.”

“No.” Rosinante choked out, “I need to, for myself.”

“Okay.” Dragon told him soothingly, “Take your time.”

Rosinante took a moment to compose himself before speaking again.

“My dad tried to get us back to Mary Geoise, but they denied us. So we built a little shack for ourselves. Our parents found food when they could and made sure that we ate the stuff that wasn’t spoiled or wasn’t too moldy.” Rosinante quietly said, “A year later, mom got really sick and passed away in her sleep shortly after. My brother blamed our dad for everything. I think my dad did too.”

Rosinante took another breath and kept going before he lost his courage.

“A year later, the town’s people finally found us. They strung us up on a building and started shooting arrows at us. They told us about everything that the Celestial Dragons did to them, about everyone that suffered or was taken as slaves.” Rosinante told him, “One of them shot my brother in the eye and that made his Conqueror's Haki wake up. All the people attacking us collapsed and we managed to cut ourselves down.”

Dragon could understand why the villagers would take out their anger on Rosinante’s father, even if he did recognize that the Celestial Dragon’s mistreatment of others was wrong and decided to change. But the children? Dragon knows grief can make you do crazy things. Especially when you have been subjected to such horrendous treatment your entire life. He didn’t tell Rosinante any of this though, it wouldn’t help, and he probably already knew this anyway.

Dragon motioned for Rosinante to continue.

“That wasn’t even the worst part though.” Rosinante sniffled, “A little later, my brother came across a man that gave him a gun and a devil fruit. He came back and shot our father in the back of the head while he was holding me.”

Dragon’s breath caught in his throat, he was horrified at what Rosinante was telling him. He knew that it was going to be bad based on what Garp vaguely told him years ago and with how Rosinante was acting, but he didn’t think it would lead to patricide.

“Then… then he cut off his head.” Rosinante choked out, Dragon just pulled him impossibly closer, “He took it back to Mary Geoise, hoping to be let back in. He wanted me to come with him, but I refused because I was scared of him. Sengoku found me crying in the junkyard and I didn’t hear anything about my brother until recently.”

Wait, what?! Dragon tried to remember anything that might have happened recently that could connect to Rosinante’s brother. North Blue - psychopath - blind? - terrible personality and values… no… it can’t be!

“Your brother is Doflamingo?!” Dragon yelled, Oh that’s why he got so upset about that newspaper article.

Thinking Dragon was angry at him, Rosinante jerked away and curled into himself.

“I’m sorry.” Rosinante said while sobbing, “I didn’t mean to lead you on but-”

“Lead me on?” Dragon asked confused before softening upon realisation, “Oh Rosi, I’m not mad.”

“You aren’t?” Rosinante choked out between sobs, “But you hate Celestial Dragons!”

“Yes I do.” Dragon said calmly, “I hate their beliefs and their way of life.”

Before Rosinante could pull away further, Dragon grabbed a hold of his shoulders and made him make eye contact.

“But I adore you.” Dragon told him, “You are proof that a person’s birth place or station does not define them and I hope there are more people like your father in Mary Geoise.”

Dragon once again pulled Rosinante into his lap and held him close.

“Perhaps a younger generation that wants to break the cycle.” Dragon said into Rosinante’s hair, “Things wouldn’t heal instantly, and we probably won’t see a united world in our lifetime, but it would be a start in the right direction.”

“I want that, a better world.” Rosinante whispered into Dragon’s chest, “I wish my brother could change.”

“Me too.” Dragon agreed for Rosinante’s sake, “But his actions are not your own, so don’t feel responsible for him okay?”

“I’ll try.” Rosinante said, “It isn’t easy.”

“I know, nothing that is worth it ever is.” Dragon told him, “But I’ll be here to support you, okay?”

Rosinante just nodded his head and snuggled into him further.

They laid back down again and drifted off to sleep, both feeling a little lighter.

Mid September - Marineford

It was now the middle of September and Dragon was getting ready to leave for his annual trip back home.

Rosinante was over helping Dragon and Ace pack. The blonde had invited himself over so he could spend some time with them before they left.

They had already packed up Ace’s bag and were now in Dragon’s room. Ace was bouncing on the bed while Dragon and Rosinante folded clothes.

“Are you excited to see Auntie Dadan again Ace?” Dragon asked the excited toddler.

“Yeah! And I wanna go bear hunting with gramps!” Ace yelled, making bear noises as he did so.

“They have bears on Dawn Island?” Rosinante asked while folding one of Dragon’s shirts.

“Yes, they're the same size as the ones found on the Grandline.” Dragon explained, “There are also oversized tigers, alligators, snakes, and vultures.”

“Really? That sounds terrifying.” Rosinante said, imagining himself tripping and getting eaten by one.

“It’s alright when you know how to fight them.” Dragon told him, “Dad would give us metal pipes and we would go out hunting.”

“Metal pipes?!” Rosinante exclaimed, “Why don’t you just use guns or spears or swords?”

“Dad says it would be too easy and that we needed to be tough to survive.” Dragon explained, “He also says everything tastes better when you hunt for it with your bare hands.”

“So your dad is a caveman?” Rosinante asked jokingly.

“You’re only realising that now?” Dragon joked back.

Ace then decided to interrupt them by diving into the piles of clothes.

Thankfully, Dragon caught him before he could undo all of their work.

“Now just what do you think you’re doing firefly.” Dragon asked the giggling toddler.

“Flying!” Ace exclaimed while flapping his arms.

“Why do you want to fly?” Dragon asked.

“So I can see everything!” Ace replied, going on about what he would like to see if he could fly.

Rosinante had a fond look on his face as he watched the father and son talk.

Dragon sure did make a cute kid, Rosinante thought as he watched Ace babble, I wonder what ours might look like?

As soon as that thought finished, Rosinante felt his face grow extremely hot.

Why am I thinking about that? We only started seeing each other a month ago! Bad Rosi! You’ll scare him off!

Rosinante was broken out of his spiral by Dragon poking his temple. Ace had run off to do something else.

“You okay there Rosi?” Dragon asked him in concern, “You kind of spaced out for a bit.”

“Oh sorry.” Rosinante said, “Was just thinking.”

“What about?” Dragon asked, sitting down beside him on the bed.

“Just how much I’m gonna miss you guys.” Rosinante replied.

“Aw, I’m going to miss you too.” Dragon said, “But it will only be for a little over a month. We’ll be back before Halloween.”

“I know.” Rosinante pouted, “I guess I just got used to being around you all the time. It’s been… less lonely.”

“I know what you mean.” Dragon agreed, “I’m very thankful to have met you Rosinante.”

“Thanks, I think the same about you.” Rosinante said while scratching the back of his head, “To be honest, you’re one of the few who think that.”

“Nonsense.” Dragon told him, moving his head so Rosinante met his eyes, “Don’t sell yourself short, you are a wonderful person Rosi and an extraordinary spy. Just gotta believe in yourself more.”

“Thanks Dragon.” Rosinante said, hugging him.

They held each other close until they heard a crash from the living room.

“Oops, sorry!” They heard Ace yell.

“Ah, that little shit.” Dragon huffed laughing, “I hope he broke that hideous vase Borsalino got me.”

Dragon went to get up, but Rosinante stopped him.

“You pack your stuff.” Rosinante told him, “I’ll go clean it up.”

“You sure?” Dragon asked.

“Yeah, you stay here.” Rosinante told him, “I know you just told me to believe in myself more, but we both know that doesn’t automatically give me organisational skills.”

“Fine, just don’t hurt yourself with the mess.” Dragon jokes.

“I’ll try not to.” Rosinante laughed as he walked out the door.

Dragon waited a moment until he was sure Rosinante was out of hearing range, then he got up to close the door.

He then went over to his bedside drawer on the right.

Dragon moved it to the side so he could access the floorboards. He pulled the floorboards up to reveal the hidden storage unit he made to safely keep anything to do with the Revolutionary Army in.

There were tensions rising in Marineford. Only the highest stations knew about the Revolutionary Army. Everybody else thought that the attacks, robberies, and protests over the past couple of years were done randomly.

Which was true for most of them.

But the rest were organized by Dragon and his RA associates.

He made sure to space everything out and make it seem like they were mere coincidences. So that the marines wouldn’t find any evidence or connect anything back to him if they did.

Dragon was planning to leave the marines after New Years. That way Ace could spend one more birthday with family.

He felt bad for dragging his son into his mess, but he wasn’t about to instill abandonment issues into him either.

He had started this a year before Ace was born. He wasn't expecting to have a kid literally thrusted into his arms. He could’ve said no.

But he didn’t.

Now he was ripping his kid away from everything he knew.

Maybe I should have let dad give Ace to Dadan, Dragon lamented as he put the documents into a hidden compartment sewn in the inside bottom of his bag.

No I couldn’t, not when I almost cried holding him for the first time, Dragon thought as he packed his clothes.

Then he thought about Rosinante.

If I’m not instilling abandonment issues in Ace; I’m instilling them in Rosinante.

Maybe it was true that all dragons were selfish creatures.

Ace had indeed broken that awful vase Borsalino gave him and Rosinante had it cleaned up without hurting himself.

Dragon called it a win either way.

He set his bag down next to Ace’s at the front door.

“Well this is it.” Dragon sighed, pulling on his coat.

“See you in a month.” Rosinante said, tugging on his own coat.

“Bye, bye Rosi.” Ace said, a little muffled by his scarf.

Rosinante crouched down to hug Ace, “Bye, bye firefly. See you soon.”

The toddler then grabbed his bag and dragged it out the door while waving goodbye.

Dragon grabbed his bag and pulled Rosinante into a hug when he stood up. Holding him tight to his chest. He felt the blonde do the same.

“Come on dad!” Ace whined from outside, “We’re gonna be late!”

The two men pulled away from each other. Stepping outside so Dragon could lock the apartment door.

“Well I better get going before the boss starts biting me.” Dragon told him, “Stay safe Rosi, I’ll be back.”

“You too Dragon.” Rosinante laughed, “I’ll be waiting.”

They gave each other a smile and parted ways.

Rosinante to his own apartment and Dragon towards the docks.

{Little did either of them know, but they wouldn’t be meeting again soon. In fact, it would be almost a year before they see each other again. All thanks to a certain magma man. It seems Dragon wasn’t as careful as he thought.}

One of my notes for this chapter in my notebook was:

"Rosinante is my favourite, so he must be the one put into the angst meat grinder as is tradition for favourite characters." ~ March 16

I had just got done re-watching The Dead Poet's Society when I wrote that down so do with that what you will. 🤷‍♀️

#one piece #one piece writing #happy coradrag au #donquixote rosinante #corazon #coradrag #monkey d dragon #portgas d ace #monkey d garp #sengoku the buddha #op kuzan #donquixote doflamingo #op borsalino #op akainu

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missfrieden · 1 year ago

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Tech as a father Chapter 31

Two days back at work, and I had to get sick... well at least I only have a sore throat and don't use it for longer vacation. What a new start for the year. But anyway next chapter.

Masterlist

Chapter 31: Problem ahead

Tech's heart raced as he received the encrypted message from Amanda. He quickly moved to sit in his bunk, ensuring that no one would notice his communication. With practiced precision, he activated a secure communication channel and responded to Amanda's query if he is on Kamino. The prepared bottle now being held loosely in his hand. "Yes, I'm on Kamino at the moment" he typed carefully, his fingers moving swiftly across the datapad's keys. He didn't dare mention Orion, just in case the message was intercepted. The secrecy of their son's heritage was paramount.

The seconds dragged on as he waited anxiously for Amanda's response, wondering what she might need or want to communicate. It had been too long since he'd heard from her, and his heart ached for a connection, even through these encrypted messages.

"I have been summoned to Kamino by Prime Minister Lama Su, he said I need to get a few medics and troopers back to the temple with me. And maybe, it is not the best idea when you know our stars are around, given... but I know you can't simply leave without any direct orders. I will arrive with my Padawan in half a rotation." Tech's heart skipped a beat as he read Amanda's message. Her presence on Kamino was unexpected and raised a whirlwind of emotions within him. He quickly composed a reply, mindful of the urgency and secrecy of their communication.

"Understood. I'll stay clear of your path and won't interfere. Do what you must, and teach your Padawan. If you need anything, you know how to reach me." He hesitated for a moment before adding, "I hope to see you, even if it's from a distance." With a final glance at Orion, who he picks up and was now waking up and his bright blue eyes spotting his bottle, Tech sent the message, his heart heavy with the anticipation of seeing Amanda, if only briefly.

As Tech started to feed Orion, he couldn't help but feel a mixture of emotions. The prospect of seeing Amanda again, even from a distance, filled him with a sense of longing and excitement. But he also understood the complexities of their situation and the need for secrecy. Tech has to learn to keep his distance when Amanda was around, especially after their last encounter when Orion had cried when they left the ship. It was a painful reminder of the delicate balance they had to maintain to keep their secret hidden.

So, Tech focused on feeding Orion, gently caressing his son's cheek as he took each sip from the bottle. He knew that, for now, their separation from Amanda was necessary to protect both her and Orion.

With Orion peacefully asleep on his chest after he had his bottle, Tech continued to work on his reports. His nimble fingers moved swiftly across the datapad, detailing their recent missions and making sure to add a few extra layers of security to the logs to prevent any unwanted prying eyes. The soft rise and fall of Orion's chest against his own provided Tech with a sense of comfort, even amidst the clandestine activities he sometimes found himself involved in. As he finished up the reports, he couldn't help but glance down at his son's serene face, a smile tugging at his lips. In that quiet moment, Tech's heart swelled with both love and a deep sense of protectiveness.

Tech's heart raced as Orion's cries filled the barracks, escalating into a full-blown meltdown. Panic surged through him, and he quickly set aside his datapad, scooping Orion up in his arms, desperate to soothe his distressed son. "Hush, Orion, it's okay," Tech murmured in a soothing tone, gently rocking him back and forth. He checked Orion's diaper, temperature, and for any visible signs of discomfort, but nothing seemed amiss. Tech knew why but he hoped for another reason.

The rest of the squad was now wide awake, their expressions a mix of concern and confusion. Hunter who was so startled fell out of his bunk, recovering from his fall, approached Tech, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong with him, Tech?" he asked, his voice filled with worry. Tech shook his head, his own anxiety mounting. "I don't know, Hunter. He was fine just a moment ago."

Orion's cries showed no sign of stopping, and Tech continued to hold him close, trying to comfort him as best he could while searching his mind for any possible way to sooth his son's distress. “Tech, you are lying to me… what is wrong with him?” Hunter asks again after a moment. “Amanda is on her way to Kamino, or to be precise to this very cloning facility” Tech mutters. “Great! Not enough problems already.” Crosshair snarls, probably more irritated he was woken up.

Tech's heart raced as he carried Orion towards the Havoc Marauder. He hoped the familiar sounds of the ship and the gentle rocking motion of his steps would provide some comfort to his distressed son. Orion's cries echoed in the quiet corridors of the ship, and Tech's worry continued to mount. As he stepped inside the ship, the low hum of the engines greeted him, a sound he had grown accustomed to over the years. He carefully held Orion while he started up several system. The soothing vibrations from the ship's idling engines seemed to have a calming effect on Orion, who now smacks his tiny fists against his father’s chest, throat and shoulders.

Tech continued to hold Orion close, gently stroking his tiny back as he walked back and forth in the cockpit. The squad watched from the doorway, their concern evident. Hunter, Crosshair, Echo, and Wrecker exchanged glances, all feeling a mixture of helplessness and worry for their youngest member. Because they would not let Tech handle it alone, all knew there is just one way for Orion to stop. And they could at least help shield Orion and Tech, from questions of the regs or their creators.

Chapter 32

Reblogs are very welcome and I am open for feedback, as english is not my first language, so maybe my sentences may be weird sometimes, or I write a word wrong even with google, or I use a wrong word for an item.

Tag: @spectacular-skywalker @aalizazareth @neyswxrld @clonethirstingisreal @sleepycreativewriter

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frigidsilver · 1 year ago

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--CHAPTER 2--

Blotted Clouds

A month or so had passed since Karnage offered a spot on his crew to the bat named Vincent Lunas. Since then, his new recruit has been proving to be more than just a witty talker. Quickly finding a place among the mechanics and engineers of the crew repairing the engines, keeping the canons maintained, and the occasional blackout he's tasked with fixing.

They all had been doing the occasional morning routines. All filed into the mess hall sluggishly and drowsily. Grabbing their breakfast from the chef and finding their seats to converse and eat. Karnage sat in his reserved seat at the end of the hall by the windows that looked over the clear morning sky.

Vincent and the other mechanics made their way in a few minutes later. Recently just arriving from the supply run they were sent to retrieve earlier that morning. Don had waived Vincent to his table. The bat grabbed a tray with some fruits then pulled a chair aside Don.

"Good morning, my little tinker. How is my lovely ship running so far?"

"Everything is running swimmingly, Captain. Ratchet, Jock and myself picked up the ship's weekly supplies from the port, along with your requested order."

He placed a to-go cup of coffee on the table in front of his captain. In which Don reached over to grab, washing down his meal. A yawn escaped his mouth with his hand groggily pushing it back in.

"I maybe known as the creature of the night among the crew. But it seems to me that coffee is the only thing keep you up.

"Don't think you are the funny comedian this morning. I was not the one singing outside the ship late at night. If I knew any better, you are enjoying your night shifts TOO much."

Vincent gave a sheepish grin, not even fighting the accusations.

"Did you stay up all night listening to my songs? Forgive me, I'll bring it down a few octaves. Although, I'm touched to know you let me get away with it so long without any ill comments."

"I'm not complaining, Vincent. I am just making sure you don't lose your edge.

I would hate to throw you off my ship for not getting the required amount of sleep."

"Don and Vincent gave each other a grin. Enjoying the banter they share. It's been so long since Don Karnage had someone to give a good back and forth without fumbling on their words. He watched the bat pull out a crumpled newspaper. He barely had unfolded it without a word read when Don pulled the paper down with a finger.

"Are you not going to share this morning's news? I need to keep my knowledge sharp."

Don listened to the willing reader whisk through the headlines briefly. Leisurely rocking back and forth in his chair with Vincent comfortably putting a leg on a knee.

"Abel Klaus faces charges for stolen inventions. Wonderful news...rivaling news anchor, DNN. Faces backlash after bold accusations torwards the king...A-

His eyes stopped to take a moment to read the next headline. Immediately running back and forth through the wrinkled papers to find the full article. Reading the header with his best news reporter voice.

"I think this will pique your interest:

Ace pilot, Baloo Von Bruinwald. Has been reported missing for three days."

Don Karnage almost spat out his Cappuccino after hearing that. Now sitting up straight like a student being called by their teacher. He snatched the papers from the bat's hands. who raised his hand up passively letting his eager captain finish the article with great focus.

"His employer, Rebecca Cunningham of Higher for Hire. Claims he was making a delivery with his navigator, Kit Cloudkicker, southeast of Wasteland and never came back. Also stating that, "He was not at any of the usual places he goes to slack off."

"Huh, Harsh lady. Must be fun swiping her cargo every so often. Well, attempting to that is."

"Oh, but it is much fun. But this is a surprise, even to myself. Rebecca knows that Bear has gotten himself into worse situations and comes back on time for the paycheck. I struck with curiosity on the reasoning for her concern."

Pushing himself out of his chair and placing his hands on the table. Staring off into the wall, visualizing his new morning plans come together. With his nemesis taking a surprise vacation, this left a wonderful opportunity for some excitement.

"With the so-called Ace pilot missing. This gives Don Karnage and his vicious band of pirates a perfect chance to raid the wonderful city of Cape Suzette once again, Yes-no?"

Don Karnage cut breakfast short and put his crew straight to work. Setting the Iron Vulture's course to the city of Cape Suzette.

A wonderful city with towering buildings that even planes have their own designated flight paths through the various structures. Along with its equally as tall cliffs that protected the city from threats like Karnage and his crew. With only a small chasm that lead in and out. Armed with massive cannons and guns that rivaled the ships.

The air pirates had successfully raided Cape Suzette only once. But that was episodes ago and foiled by the efforts of Baloo and the young traitor, Kit.

Kit...

The boy's name rang through Karnage's head as he saw the bright art deco city coming up into view. It was the same as the last time he visited.

His wandering mind drifted his gaze skyward, to be met with a dark storm brewing. Quickly falling over the ship and soon the city.

"Aha, now THIS will add to the dramatic entrance. We shall hide among the storm and catch them by surprise. Nothing like a little bit of lighting and-"

In response to Don Karnage's proclamation. An explosive boom shook the ship. Frantically scanning to see if the cliff cannons had shot at them. To his relief, the guns remained to stay idol. But there was no time to take chances. Karnage reached for the intercom system and held it to his face.

"RATCHET, what was that? Did the ship go boom? If not, what did?"

Moments of static later, the raspy voice of the head engineer, Ratchet spoke through the com.

"No captain, must be the storm outside. Pretty big one to me."

"Keep an eye on my contraptions, my good man. We dont want to be looking like fools in front of our victims, yes, no?

The captain turned his attention back to the storm above. Taking accout of the looming clouds that gradually built over the city and the airship.

Clustered together tight that none of the morning light pierced through. Leaving the sky a dark violent purple that swirled around. Rain began to fall around the ship. Hitting the hull with hard thuds like small rocks. Just by hearing it, one would assume it would be hail.

Except something was strangely wrong with this rain.

It was not clear, but shared the same violent purple as the clouds it came from. Thick and slimy as it clung to the ship's hull.

Crew mates crowded around the ports with Don like moths to a lamp. Eyes glued to the goop slowly piling up together.

Their curiosity quickly turned to concern as the growing piles started to become animated. Climbing on top of each other to make disfigured limbs, gaping mouths, and parting way for soulless, green eyes that burned into the inhabitants of the ship.

It was no rain,

It was ink.

The pirates backed up from the windows as the monsters grew in number. A slow trudge turned into a mad dash to the windows. One of the pirates fled from the windows in a high pitch voice filled with fear.

"SPATTERS!"

All moved away from the windows as the Spatters reached the windows. Lurching what would be assumed to be their heads back and spitting a vile green acid that burned through the window and hull. Putting their unnerving, buring stares to shame.

"THAT IS IMPOSSIBLE! The king and the rodent finished the big one off, did they not!?"

At the very back of the ship, the three engineers ran maintenance checks on the engines, unaware of the assault at the front of the ship. Until Vincent's ears perked over noises that were not familiar.

"Wait a minute..."

Ratchet and Jock turned from their duties torwards Vincent, who stood completely still. Trying to understand what this dingbat was on about.

"It's probably all the lightning outside that's putting your hearing out of whack."

The bat didn't respond if he was stuck in the 19th century, concentrating on the numerous sounds of the ship. He heard the shrill shouts of the crew about a problem soon to be discovered, Karnage's muffled voice howled unintelligible commands, the sounds of the "rain" pounding against the metal exterior, then numerous clangs echoing from deep in the ship that gradually became louder.

The other two pirates looked around now, understanding one of Vincent's concerns. Jock neared one of the pipes, squinting through his dark glasses to see a dark liquid dripping from the cracks of the machine.

"THERE'S SOMETHING IN THE PIPES!"

Not even a moment to process the info was given as the machines groaned in discomfort. Billowing a thick smoke trying to rid the spatters as one tries to rid off an infection. The three darted back and forth between the different contraptions. Twisting values, tightening pipes, and even resorting to primitive pounding on the metal. Anything to try to keep the system stable. Vincent swooped over to the radio to warn the captain of this issue.

"Karnage, the machines down here are malfunctioning. At this rate, we're not sure how long we can keep them together."

But it was no use. The line remained to be the only silent thing in that room.

A pipe broke off the wall and fell to the floor with a loud clang. The three all looked at the fallen pipe spew a black liquid. Slowly forming one of the hundreds of shipwrecking culprits. Its eyes pierced through the smoke and launched itself at the startled pirates.

The green acid was chucked at poor Jock like vomit. Yelling in agony as it made contact with his arm. Leaving it looking like a melted candle as his striped shirt and his charcoal fur melted together and dripped onto the floor. Vincent whipped one of his wings at the spatter and shielded Jock with his other arms. In the process, the quick-thinking Ratchet released the pressure in the pipes, causing them to spray out steam. Putting a barrier between the threat and them.

The machines groans escalated to high-pitched screams as they could no longer stay together. Instincts told them to heed that warning and dropped everything. They fled up the stairs helping Jock out the engine room, slamming the door shut behind them just in the nick of time.

The three leaned on the door with their weight, attempting to give their bodies a moments rest. Sweat dampening their collars and fur. Not even a moment later;

BOOM

The whole ship shook from the blast. Heat poured out from the door with a fiery glow quickly following. They all fearfully scampering away from the explosion, Jock ran alongside Vincent while he squeezed his injured arm with ink leaking through his fingers.

"WE NEED TO GET YOU OUT OF HERE, NOW! YOURE LOOSING TOO MUCH INK!"

"THERE'S NO TIME FOR THAT!

YOU NEED TO GET TO THE CAPTAIN AND TELL HIM TO HOLD THE SHIP STEADY SO WE CAN BREACH THE WALL. YOURE THE FASTEST OUT OF US, WE'LL TRY AND KEEP THE LAST ENGINE GOING UNTIL THEN."

Jock and Ratchet took a hard right to the remaining engine. Leaving Vincent alone to pick up speed to barrel down the hallway. Hallway after hallway, Vincent navigated through the labyrinth of corridors and catwalks to reach the hangar. Having his suspicions to be true. The walls of the hangar were thinned through, distorted chunks of metal clinging to what remained. Leaving gaping holes for the spatters to continue their brainless hunt. Crewmates alike defended against the intruders with all they had. Climbing up to the catwalks to take refuge from the sludge zombies that clawed at the walls.

Vincent kicked the door of the bridge open. Seeing the debonair captain wrestling the helm for control over the Iron Vulture and warding off a spatter. He swatted it away with his wing near the hole it emerged from. Kicking it right back out to plunge into the sea below. Short breathed, he reported to Karnage;

"We just lost an engine! Jock and Ratchet are doing all they can to keep the last one together. The spatters got inside the system, I don't know how."

"DO YOU THINK I AM STUPID IN THE HEAD? OF COURSE I CAN TELL IT WENT BOOM. MY SHIP USUALLY DOES NOT FLY LIKE A-"

Karnage's emotions flipped from irritation to dread. If all the horrors that unfolded around him finally caught up to him. Whipping his body toward the windows with eyes wide open.

"The cannons, RADIO THE CAPE SUZZETE AIR CONTROL RIGHT NOW!"

He quickly took his captain's orders into action and fumbled with the radio's dial to the air control's frequency.

"This is the Iron Vulture to air control. We request an emergency landing in your city's harbors. Spatters are ravaging our ship and took out one of our engines. SO PLEASE REGROW THOSE STOLEN HEARTS OF YOURS AND LET US THOUGH!

.....HELLO?"

The line stayed quiet, with the only thing that could be heard being crackling static. As did the canons that lined on top of the wall. Vincent tapped his foot anxiously waiting for their response. Before letting out an irritated sigh before tossing the mic aside.

"No one bothers to pick up the radio anymore, do they? Or even do their jobs for that matter..."

"We are AIR PIRATES, Vincent! We do not have to abide by ANY of their silly rules. If they are not going to shoot; We go in."

The Iron Vulture unsteadily made it pass the wall. As they did, they found their reason for the lack of security. It was not only the air pirates that were being attacked.

So was all of Cape Suzette.

The ink rain caked the buildings and canons with creatures of all shapes and variety that formed from the puddles. All filled with the same lime green acid.

Thinner

The same substance that ate away at the Iron Vulture, the buildings of Cape Suzette. The same liquid that spilled into their world years ago. Causing the Great Thinner Disaster, that ruined Wasteland. Along with marking the arrival of the monster that came with it, The Blot. A massive demon forged of ink that plagued the world of the forgotten with its endless army of blotlings. Tearing this world apart with the goal to escape and lay ruin the worlds they all once knew.

Vincent only had heard stories of the disaster and the monsters of dark ink from the Gremlins back in Salom during lunch breaks. But nothing could've prepared him for the destructive capabilities of these things.

He was brought back to his senses when tossed to the side by the abrupt jolt of the ship. The ship's helm spun around clockwork.

"THESE IDIOTS ARE TURNING MY BEAUTIFUL SHIP INTO SCRAPS OF METAL!"

Karnage whined as the ship veered close to the wall. Scraping some of the spatters off the ship. Leaving their remains as graffiti on the rocky canvas. Regaining their balance, the two of them held their tongues as the mutilated ship crept out of the cliff, into the harbor.

Despite the small victory, another blast came from behind them. As the last engine finally succumbed to its demise. Vincent turned back to the explosion, concerned for the other mechanics. The airship lost its momentum, rapidly starting it's decent.

"I TOLD YOU IDIOTS TO KEEP AN EYE ON MY SHIP!"

That was uncalled for, I am sorry."

Turning on the intercom one last time, he spoke to his crew rapidly.

"Everyone to the planes, it's time to make a tactical retreat. Hurry now, scatter, go, VAMOOSE! Or I throw you off myself."

The fighter planes one by one sputtered to life down in the hangar. The captain pulled a long lever in the bridge that opened the beak of the ship to the violent storm outside. Sounds of propellers disappeared as Lunas made sure everyone was accounted for from the bridge window. To Vincents relief Jock and Ratchet, emerging from the back of the ship with a layer of ash dusted on their clothes. Everyone had safely made it to a plane and out of the ship.

Except one.

Don stood at the controls stubbornly fighting the wheel. Vincent held onto the doorway for support, calling out to him over the winds.

"Karnage, everyone is off the ship. We need to leave, now"

"I will NOT let these slimey type foes be the last on Don Karnage! I REFUSE to let my ship fall without its glorious captain!"

"The ship will be fine, we can repair it or get a new one. What won't be fine is you getting mutilated like the ship and the pests. Who's going to order around the air pirates? Do you really want Dumptruck to come out of retirement and be captain again after last time?"

Don gripped the wheel tightly trying to stay strong for the vulture, his Iron Vulture. As the towering buildings started to fall around him, the reality started to set in.

His crew needed Don Karnage. How would they ever function without him? Who would lead their revenge on the blotlings? Who was even worthy of carrying his title if he perished?

Reluctantly, he took a deep breath while his grip loosened off of the helm. Backing away with defeat etched on his face, switching on the auto pilot. Vincent raised a hand trying to find the words to attempt comforting Don. But only watched him rush out of the bridge, in which he closely tailed behind. The clanking of their boots pounding on the metal drowned out by the numerous explosions from inside the ship.

The hangar was left empty with only the sounds of howling winds pouring through and a choir of spatters gurgling down below. Don gritted his teeth furiously and rushed down the stairs. Cutlass in hand, he launched torwards the perpetrators that ruined his ship.

"They'll pay for what they've done!"

A vicious swipe of his sword made contact with one of the spatters cutting right through the middle. Only for the blades cuts to be covered again by the dripping ooze. Leaving no trace of Don's fury.

Vincent made his own attempt and let out two shots from his pistols. Unfortunately, met with the same outcome like Karnage. The bullets went straight through and bounced off the metallic interior.

Frustration grew as time did not. Looking over the situation, he hatched up a plan. Running to the wall of the hangar and closed the beak of the ship. The bat heard the creaking of the ship's beak close shut and saw Don was still inside. He dived to him and started shaking him by his shoulders in panic.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING? HOW ARE YOU GETTING OUT WITH YOUR PLANE?"

"If I leave that beak open when we crash, we would be drinking sea water like little fishies. I want my beloved Vulture to be intact. Not to end up like the pathetic little shipwrecks made by primitive sea pirates.

I will make my retreat out the bomb bay doors. If we are truly lucky, we will pull the rug from underneath them spatters in the process. I rely on you to signal me when you open the doors. So if anything goes in the south direction; I WILL WEAR YOUR WINGS LIKE A GOTHIC CAPE!"

Vincent gave a speechless confirmation with a blank face. Eyes following the wolf luring the spatters to his plane. Still attempting to process the information with his wings tucked closer to his back defensively.

The familiar sounds of propellers filled the ship once again. Don had maneuvered his plane over the bomb bay doors and awaited Vincent's signal. Who stood by the button like a ride operator ready to plunge him out of the ship. He tore off the red bandana draped around his neck. Swinging it in the air like a flag with a high pitch whistle following right after. With a quick reaction from Don pushing on the throttle full force.

Not a moment later, the doors flung open underneath, dropping the spatters and plane into the air. All sounds faded away into the winds.

A feeling Don Karnage knew all too well. He was made to be apart of the skies. To soar through the clouds and plunder whoever he pleased. He pursuited the most skilled fliers through mountains and caves. This was no challenge for the prince of pirates. This was nothing more than an everyday adventure the writers put him through.

Pulling the throttle close to his chest as he rapidly approached the water. Meters turned to feet, city and harbor blurring together. The plane only grazed the slightest amount of water as it flew over by inches. Don's confidence remained unwaivered, circling around the Iron Vulture.

Vincent punched the button again sliding the doors back together. He rushed to one of the spatter-made holes and saw the captain's plane nimbly dodging the falling ink.

"That's the Don Karnage for you."

The bat whispered to himself tying his bandana back across his neck. Then made his own escape out of the ship. Flapping upwards to intercept Karnage's plane. He grappled onto one of the wings and tried to catch his shaky breath.

The captain didn't acknowledge Vincent at first. Only watched solemnly as the Iron Vulture splashed into the water below. Large tidal waves pulsating throughout the harbor. Karnage's face melted to bittersweet relief, seeing his ship float like a toy bot in a bathtub. A sigh of relief later, he spoke over the propeller.

"Excellent work, Vincent. Your precision managed to almost come close to rivaling my own talent."

"The only thing you're rivaling is the king's luck. Though your skills are impressive, not gonna deny it."

Feelings of mutual respect amongst captain and mechanic only clouded the internal feeling of despair for the crashed airship.

"We will come back for my ship. For now, we shall locate Rebecca Cunningham. I fear there's a connection to those failed attempts of art projects and Baloo's disappearance. "

The falling ink slowed to a stop, leaving the sounds of thunder and wailing winds behind. The tires of the plane made contact with the pavement of a cleared road close to the docks.

Vincent and Don stepped off into the wet street with a thud. Turning to see an upclose view of the damage the storm had brought to the unfortunate city.

The once vibrant buildings that proudly stood tall in the sky now bent into warped and twisted versions of their former glory. Leaving towers wilted and chunks of buildings missing. The thinner had burned through the colorful paint that coated the walls. Digging dull, lifeless dents in their structures. Most places in Wasteland had become husks of what they once were since the thinner disaster. But to see the effects in a matter of minutes showed the true destructive nature of the acid that plagued their world.

Drenched in sweat with pulses still pounding on the falling airship. They vigilantly walked down the pier cautiously, on edge with every creak of each dingy plank of wood.

"It's lucky that you and the vulture had stayed so strong after all these years."

Vincent's voice cut through the thick silence in attempt to distract Don's mind. Who stared ahead blankly like a lost child. Only thinking about all he'd lost all in one morning. His greatest enemy, his ship, and now the city he was supposed to conquer.

After all he was THE air pirate. He was supposed to be plundering things away. Not the other way around.

"We were airborne most of the time. We never were too close to the area where that pollution resided. Or where that...thing launched its last attack. Thanks to my excellent skills of navigation and planning, of course."

His snapped back to his self-assured persona. Remembering the captain he supposed to be.

A few steps later of weary walking, they arrived at their location at the far end of the docks.

Higher for Hire's headquarters resided in a small office with a storehouse and watchtower attached to it. Charming little place made of wood and scrap metal. Which didn't look as charming as it usually did as most of the city didn't at the moment. Holes littered the surfaces of the building and docks. With the biggest hole being the port where Baloo's cargo plane, The Seaduck, usually was found lazily rocking in the water. Alike to its pilot in his hammock right beside it.

They knocked at the office door with no response. They banged louder on the wooden door. Not a sound came from within. It remained pitch black. Not even a moment later, Karnage marched around to the side of the building over to a window. He stuck his cutlass through the gap. Scraping back and forth to unlock the window.

"You really can't be patient, can you? We can just get in though the multiple holes in the walls the blot gracefully left for us."

"I've stolen an idol and the keys to the seaduck plane before though this certain window. This is my own personal door in."

A loud pop later, the old window slid open. A cold breeze

"It is not my fault they don't ever fix this little issue."

Don's announcing footsteps echoed through the office floor. Strewn with missing fliers and numerous undelivered cargo that towered to the ceiling. A mug was left abandoned on the desktop with white steam still dancing above it. The captain took note of this and cleared his throat. Walking around while looking for the owner loudly calling out to her.

"Allo, Allo Rebecca Cunningham. It is I, the consulting captain, Don Kar-"

A turn of a corner unveiled a loaded flare gun pointed directly at Don. Putting his parade around the room came to a sharp halt. Hands up by his face in response with his thick brows raised. Vincent quickly armed himself with his pistols and pointed it directly at the holder. A stern yet shaky voice emerged from the dark corner.

"What do you want, Karnage?"

The gun pushed the captain to the center of the room. Pulling out the person holding it into the dim light. Vincent had his fingers on the triggers ready for any sudden movements.

An average sized woman stood composed at the pirates. She dressed in a pink jacket wrapped over a white turtleneck with muted purple slacks. Her eyes dead locked with this all too familiar intruder with stands of hair falling from her usually upkept French twist.

"Rebecca, I come on business inquiring about Baloo."

Her grip tightened on the flare gun. Raising both her voice and her aim towards his face.

"Who's to say you don't have him in your grasps already? If he's not with you; Then why are you in my office?

Getting impatient waiting to loot our cargo from the seaduck?"

"I assumed my powerful presence would act as a magnet to his metal exterior. Attracting him back to save his wonderful Cape Suzette from the likes of my glorious self. Though now, these pests overstaged me and ruined my onslaught.

May we please talk like civilized type of persons?"

She cautiously lowered her weapon with eyes still on the pirates. Vincent meeting her with the same cold gaze, placing his own pistols away back into his coat reluctantly. A moment later, Rebecca lead them to her desk. Dropping herself into her chair with a soft thud, exasperated. Loose papers gently floated in the air to the floor boards.

"First I lose my pilot and navigator, then the Blot comes back for another serving, and now I have air pirates in my office. I really can't catch a break, can I?"

"Unfortunately no my capitalist compatriot.

You could say your life has been in a "talespin" ever since we've been forgotten, Yes, no?

Hah, I make a joke."

He laughed at his own remark. The other two remained silent as they looked at him. Rebecca pulled at the strands of her brunette hair. Words filtering through her frustrated teeth.

"Give me a good reason why I shouldn't walk straight through the thinner and spatters to get the police?"

"As if the police are even in a solid unit at this point. Didn't even bother to shoot us or the blotlings out of the sky."

The bat chipped in the snarky remark from across the room. Peeking into open cargo boxes with curiosity. Mrs. Cunningham didn't even bother with turning her head to the bat and kept her gaze on Karnage.

"I'm sorry, Karnage. But I can't keep track of all your goons. Who is this?"

"This is Vincent Lunas. Relatively new to my honorable band of air pirates."

Karnage dragged Vincent away from his rummaging, displaying the mechanic as a collector presents his latest finds. An unimpressed Rebecca slumps in her chair, looking up at the two.

"Honorable is a loose term you use. All you do is steal and be a thorn at my side ever since the pilot episode."

"It's plunder miss-analysis-of-terms. You can't blame for loving my job and loving the riches you carry."

"King Oswald hasn't made any ill complaints about us. We stay in our air territory, and we have no quarrel."

The bat looked down onto Rebecca. Visibly irritated with how belittling this strewed businesswoman was towards him. Something he wasn't going to let by. His voice dropped low and sharp along with his brow.

"Since we're on the topic of "honorable. " Weren't you the one who endorsed those robot pilots who put dozens out of the job so you could get a good payment? If it wasn't for Karnage sabotaging that flight. Your little operation would've been 6 feet under before you even got dragged down here with the rest of us."

Vincent continued to jab at her track records with petty intent. Wings risen over his head, standing his ground. Rebecca pushed herself out of the chair to confront him. Don Karnage wedged himself between the two, voicing his own frustration.

"We are here to make a deal, not to cause more problems than there needs to be. It has been a long day though it is still is young.

A sharp exhale later, Don leaned on the desk with his hands together. Speaking in his charismatic voice that Rebecca had heard one too many times.

"You see, while you two were squabbling like little children. Don Karnage put some pieces together to this mystery puzzle. Who was the client who hired your services?"

"I'm not going to give out private information out like candy. I have a reputation to uphold and rules for my company."

"How about this; we help you find Baloo and Kit Cloudkicker and possibly help with this mess you and the citizens of Cape Suzette are in. If we are feeling so generous."

"...What's the catch?"

A foxy grin curled his lips over his sharp teeth. His voice spelled out persuasive words to Mrs. Cunningham interests and his own.

"You will put in a good word to the Cape Suzette officials to lift the ban of me and my crew in your city.

Think about it this way; I would not have to force my way into Cape Suzette and raid it if I was simply let in. Think of all the problems we can solve with this simple agreement, Mrs. Cunningham.

Not to mention the wonderful seafood dinners and loot we can easily take."

The last part was whispered underneath his breath, so only where Vincent could hear. Who smothered his visible anger with logic. Being overruled by the potential of his captain's clever negotiation. Fixing his demeanor to be more respectful and folded his wings behind his back.

"Alright, Karnage. I'll budge for now. As much as i don't want to be seen with you filthy pirates. I'm going with you to make sure you don't cause any problems with the info I gave you AND to make sure those two aren't making a fool of me.

"You have my word on my honor as an air pirate. We shall be on our bestest behaviors. isn't that right, Vincent?"

He spoke in a noble tone giving a theatrical bow to exemplify his promise. Vincent mimicking his captain's action right after with watered down enthusiasm.

Rebecca rose from her chair marching to a filing cabinet on the wall. Flipping through the contents inside. Pulling out a barely used file and held it in her hands.

"The last client those two flew for was for Khan Industries, under Shere Khan himself."

——————————————————————

(When this is posted, The Epic Mickey Rebrushed trailer had been released the same day. MY FIXATION MANEFESTED THE REMAKE)

Chap 1, Chap 2, Chap 3

#o.p.a.t #don karnage #talespin #epic mickey #epic mickey 2 #the power of two #epic mickey rebrushed #fanfic #story #wasteland #air pirates #rebecca cunningham #gay #oswald the lucky rabbit #oswald disney #disney #baloo

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come-away-with-me87 · 1 year ago

Text

All I Need Chapter 14

Chapter 13 here

******

Forever yours,

Mirai

******

Toshinori finished reading the letter to you, and you just sat there for a moment in silence. Mirai knew there was a chance he would die on his mission, and he still thought of writing a goodbye letter to you. At that point, the floodgates just opened, and you began sobbing. You were sobbing just as hard as you were that day in the hospital when you were laying next to his body in the hospital bed. Toshinori put the letter down on his coffee table, and enveloped you in his arms. "It's okay, Y/N, get it all out..." he gently trailed off. You sat there and sobbed, while Toshinori just held you in his arms and gently rocked you back and forth. "Oh god, I miss him so much," you cried out.

You could feel Toshinori's body tense up a little, as if he was trying to hold back his tears as well. "I know. I miss him, too." After about ten minutes, your sobs began to cease, and you pulled out of Toshinori's embrace. You looked over at him, "Toshinori, thank you for this. Mirai loved you, regardless of anything that happened, and there was no better person to have read this letter with me." Toshinori gently smiled at you, "it was my pleasure, young Y/N." You two sat there in silence for a few moments, when he finally spoke up again, "he was absolutely right about everything he said in that letter, especially about wanting you to move on. It's been over nine months, he wouldn't want you to still be mourning him like you are. You deserve love and happiness."

You nodded your head at him, "you're right. I will always treasure our memories together, but I do think it's time to close that chapter of my life, and stop living in the past." Toshinori just looked at you thoughtfully, and smiled, "that's exactly what Mirai would want for you." You suddenly stood up from his couch, "I know you have training with Izuku, I don't want to keep you any longer than I already have. Thank you again for this." He stood up as well, grabbed the letter and envelope off the table, and handed them to you, "are you going to be okay?" You smiled at him and said, "yeah, I think I will be. I think I needed this closure, I'm starting to feel at peace." You and Toshinori hugged each other one more time, he walked you to his door, and you both said your goodbyes.

You gently placed the letter back in its envelope, and walked back down the hallway to your dorm. At that point, Shouta was just coming out of his dorm, looking like he was going somewhere. He then caught sight of your bloodshot, swollen eyes, "Y/N, you look like you've been crying, is everything okay?" he asked in a worried tone of voice. You smiled up at him, "I am now, Shouta. Where are you off to?" He looked more relieved after your response, "since it's such a nice evening out, I decided to take a walk around the campus." He paused for a moment, then asked, "would you care to join me?"

"I would love to join you, Shouta. Can I just run inside my dorm quickly and change into something more comfortable? I am still in my clothes from today's training event." He responded, "of course, take your time. I'll wait out here." You went inside your dorm and quickly changed into a tee shirt, black leggings, and white sneakers. You quickly freshened up your face, too, putting some eye drops in to get rid of the redness, and splashed cold water on your face. There, that was as good as it was going to get. You walked back out to Shouta, and you two went down the stairs together to go walk outside.

It really was a beautiful evening out. With springtime coming, the grass was greener, and the flowers were starting to bloom. "You picked a perfect night to take a walk, Shouta," you looked up at him with a smile. He didn't say anything, he just gently smiled back at you. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but you know I'm here if you need a listening ear," he said to you. You smiled at him again. "You're one of my closest friends, Shouta, of course I want to talk about it with you." As you were walking, your hand accidentally grazed his, and you felt that familiar flush on your face upon the touch. At that moment, you decided to ignore it and think about your feelings for Shouta at a later time. Right now, he was there as your friend.

You went on to tell him what Bubble Girl was there for, the letter Mirai left for you, and how you had Toshinori read it for you. He was silent during your story, just listening to you. "Shouta, I would've come to you, but with the history between Mirai and Toshinori, I thought he was the only person who could read it and understand what I was feeling." Shouta shook his head, "no, you were absolutely right to have All Might read it to you, I would've done the same thing." You looked up at him thoughtfully, "I appreciate your understanding." You two continued your walk around the campus for a little while, when Shouta finally spoke up again and quietly asked, "so how are you feeling after all of this?"

You told him what you told Toshinori, about how you were feeling at peace, and felt like you got the closure you were looking for. He smiled gently at you in response. You two continued your walk in a comfortable silence, when you noticed that you circled around the whole campus, and were back at the entrance of the teachers' dorms. You both decided to walk around the campus one more time since it was still light outside, making casual conversation along the way. You eventually circled around the campus again, and this time, went back inside.

Once you got to your respective rooms, you thanked Shouta for inviting you on the walk, saying it was just the medicine you needed. "The pleasure was all mine, Y/N," he responded, "I'm very glad you're feeling better." You smiled up at him again, "thank you, Shouta, I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening." He looked down at you and said "you too, Y/N. I'll see you tomorrow." You both went inside your respective dorms, and when you closed the door behind you, you leaned up against it. What an emotional rollercoaster today was. You weren't lying, though, about what you said to both Toshinori and Shouta; you felt at peace now, and that was a good feeling. Now your only complication was admitting to yourself that you did, indeed, have feelings for Shouta that you have been pushing down for months now.

******

To be continued!

#aizawa shota #shota aizawa #aizawa #aizawa shota x reader #aizawa x y/n #bnha shouta aizawa #mha aizawa #shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa #eraserhead #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shouta #aizawa shota x you #aizawa x reader #aizawa x you #bnha aizawa #shota aizawa x female reader

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petrichorium · 2 years ago

Note

PLUV I have finally caught up with wha (at least I hope I have, I could only find up to chapter 70) and…many thoughts very many thoughts

I’ll start with Dean—I for some reason was not expecting him to have a wife and then she appeared and the way that man MELTED stop it stop it he loves her so much, they love each other so much it’s so sweet. But his little altercation with Beldaruit…..Jesus Christ he pissed Beldaruit off so bad but understandably so. That was such a brazen move to ask about exchanging information when Beldaruit was in a vulnerable position. You’re right, I can definitely the see the potential for him being an ultimate antagonist later on…him and his son

Oruggio of course looked so good doin his lil thing, I am still stuck on the scene where he was getting really defensive over how Qifrey should just leave Coco and Tartah alone and not to embarrass them like PLEASE I have to know who hurt this poor man when he had a puppy crush on someone as a boy

And QIFREY…..pluv get him away from me before I shake him senseless, smack him silly, dig my claws into him. That fucking panel of him laying facedown in the water……….so speechless. Literally stared at it like “no way. no way is he going to die by the thing he hates the most.” And while I am SO relieved that it was just a smoke illusion, that was such a brutal scene. Not to mention Coco injuring her eye, literally a mirror to Qifrey’s injury…….so cruel

As for the girls, their character arcs have come so far, Aggot’s especially, she holds a special place in my heart

Just. Mentally pulling at my hair and rocking back and forth in a corner, this manga keeps pulling my emotions in every which way I don’t even know what to do with myself

okay u need to send me where youve been reading bc i can only find up to chapter 68 (dw, u didn't spoil anything) BUT YEAHHHHHH

okay the WIFE THING AHHHHHH im genuinely wholeheartedly obsessed with her And his utter adoration for her. like when i first saw her i swooned ofc but then her lil scene later on where it's clear shes Also very smart and capable and not like. just a sweet/maternal figure which i kinda expected...... whew. until proven otherwise i am going to make up a zayamaia in my head who is a true partner in crime for all of dean's fucked up schemes 🫣

ORU'S LITTLE TALK HAD ME CRAZY TOO SDJFHBV when i first read that i went running to my friend like "hes having flashbacks to when he and i got caught together as teens </3" SHDFBSJDKHFB but also </////3 qifrey's response to that <//////////3 SHATTERED me truly

the parallels between coco/qifrey make me absolutely rabid foaming at the mouth putting him in a jar and shaking him like a little bug. watching coco steadily going down the same path as him while he's so blinded by his own desire for revenge......... oh qifrey i want to dissect u

the thing that truly made me weep that i kept talking about btw was the plotline with galga (specifically when, after his memories are wiped, he tries to help the girl who wiped them like OHHHHHHHHHH my god OH MY GODDDDDD he is A Magic Cop who got his personhood wiped away because of it thus removing his corruption as a magic cop and with that stripped away!!! he instinctively chooses to aide a little girl oh!!! my god!!!!! oh my fucking god!!!!!!!!) and also everything w custas and dagda my poor heart my poor poor heart............

#ask.🌧#demxnscous #witch hat spoilers

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nadinebrooks · 3 years ago

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Here is the link to my masterlist.

You Realize You Like Him

Harry: Gryffindor, halfblood, same year

"Hey (y/n)?" There came a timid voice from above me. I was sitting on a couch reading a couple of chapters from a book I had picked up from the library this morning. Looking up I saw Ron Weasley nervously standing in front of me as if he had something to say. He awkwardly rocked back and forth between his feet. I had never seen him like this before.

"Hey Ron. Did you need something?" I closed my book and focused all my attention to him. Even though the book had started to get good, it could wait.

"I was just wondering if you wanted to go to the Yule Ball with me? It's totally fine if you don't want to. I would understand."

"Did you wait too long to ask the girl you actually wanted to go with?" I chuckled wishing that he had asked Hermione to go with him instead. I though the two of them were destined to be together.

But Ron had waited too long and she ended up going with Viktor Krum. I don't think he knew that though. She for sure would have gone with him if he had made a move though.

"If I said yes would you still go with me?" He sheepishly chuckled scratching the back of his neck.

"Yeah." I giggled, " Of course I'll go with you Ron."

"Thank you (y/n)." He let out a sigh of relief, "I'll meet you at 7:00 in the common room." I watched as Ron walked off to tell Harry the good news and I couldn't help but smile a little at his actions. He was adorable.

Over the past couple of weeks I noticed that there had been this slight tension between Ron and Harry. I thought that it had to do with Harry being dragged into the spotlight once again, but Hermione told me it was because Harry didn't get to take the person he wanted to the ball. I was instantly curious at who this person was. Cho Chang maybe?

The night of the ball, Hermione and I helped each other get ready. She had to leave before me since she had to meet Viktor somewhere. I spent a couple more minutes fixing my makeup until I realized I was going to keep Ron waiting. I touched up my hair one last time before quickly walking out of my room. I found Ron waiting in the common room with Harry.

"Wow." Ron and Harry said in unison when I walked up to the them. I giggled and jokily rolled my eyes. It must've been a shock for them to see me all dressed up like this.

"You look really nice." Ron grinned holding out his arm so I could loop mine with his. I wasn't sure if I was just imagining this but it seemed like Harry had this annoyed look on his face.

The whole night went way better than I could have expected. Ron was the perfect gentleman and he was a much better dancer than I could have imagined.

After dancing for a while we both started to get thirsty, so he went to go get us some drinks. As a slow song started playing, I headed to go sit down until Harry asked me to dance. I nodded and followed him out to the floor. I told myself one dance and then I would go back to Ron. I was his date after all.

I couldn't help but smile as Harry wrapped his arm around my waist and grabbed my hand. He wasn't as good of a dancer as Ron was, but I figured Molly had taught him how to dance.

"I just want to say you look absolutely beautiful (y/n)." He blushed bright red and spun me around. "I didn't get to tell you that earlier."

"Thank you Harry." I whispered and before I could stop myself, I rested my head on his chest and I felt him rest his chin on the top of my head. When the song was over, I got out of his grasp and decided it was time to go find Ron.

Walking away from Harry, there was a smile on my face that wouldn't go away for the rest of the night.

Ron: Ravenclaw, muggleborn, year above

I absolutely hated being sick. I try not to use the word hate, but one thing that I do hate is being sick. Whenever I am sick, I feel like I took for granted all those times I wasn't sick. My head was throbbing, my nose was runny, and every time I took a shallow breath, I could feel my lungs rattling around in my chest.

It was my own fault though. I had brought this illness upon myself. I had no business playing out in the snow without a jacket. I thought back to yesterday's events.

The second I realized it was snowing, I ran outside with some of my closest friends. Luna Lovegood tried to tell me to bring a jacket down, but I was too excited to listen to her. I just wanted to build some snowmen.

We stayed outside for a while until I realized that I should have listened to Luna. Once I had gotten up from my snow angel, I knew that I had made a terrible mistake. I stood there shivering for a moment until Ron Weasley walked over to me.

"I have an extra sweater if you would like to wear it." He offered holding out a green sweater with a gold R stitched across the front. I took the sweater and slipped it over my head before placing a quick kiss on his cheek. I watched as he turned bright red and I ran off to participate in a Hufflepuff vs Ravenclaw snowball match.

This morning I woke up still wearing his sweater, but feeling absolutely awful. When I opened my eyes, I could feel a searing pain shoot through my head. I closed my eyes again hoping the pain would go away, but it didn't. I needed to get to the infirmary.

I was going to need to see Madam Pomfrey. There was no way I could get over this sickness by myself. I managed to climb out of the bed, slip into some comfy pants, and stagger to the infirmary. I collapsed on the floor shivering and Madam Pomfrey quickly rushed over to me and helped me get into a bed.

"You children do realize this will happen if you play in the snow without proper attire." She scolded.

"I promise I won't happen again." I managed to get out before collapsing onto the bed. I groaned thinking about all the classes I was going to miss today. They were going to be bombarding us with homework.

Madam Pomfrey came back to me holding a mug with a steaming liquid inside. I took a cautious sip not expecting it to taste like peppermint hot chocolate. I quickly downed the rest of it and passed the mug back to her.

"You should start feeling better in about a day or so. You've got a nasty flu from being out in the cold. I suggest you get comfy." I nodded and looked around the infirmary for anyone else to talk to, but it was just me. I guess everyone else was smart enough to bring a jacket outside yesterday.

I ended up taking a little nap and when I woke up, I saw Ron Weasley standing in the doorway arguing with Madam Pomfrey. I couldn't hear them, but it looked as if he was trying to get it and she wasn't having it. Eventually she gave in and told Ron he had "20 minutes to talk to his friend".

He rushed over to me shoving a sheet of parchment paper in my face. "Look (y/n). Look."

I grabbed the sheet and looked at it to see a bold O written on the top of it.

"This is the exam for Charms that you helped me study for. I've never gotten an O on anything until you started helping me. I know I can be difficult to study with but I just wanted to thank you."

"You're welcome Ron." I managed to croak out beaming at how excited he was.

"You're still wearing me sweater." He pointed out taking the exam back from me.

"Oh." I had completely forgotten about it. I got ready to pull it off and hand it back to him, but he stopped me.

"No, you can keep it. I have tons of them. I'll ask my mom to make you one too. Besides. I think you look cute in it."

"Really?"

"Really." Ron nodded earnestly back his face taking on a pinkish tint. I couldn't help but grin. I was starting to develop a little crush on Ron Weasley.

Draco: Slytherin, pureblood, year below

I have absolutely no idea what Draco's favorite color is. I did a little research and I found multiple answers that ranged from black to emerald green. The most common answer that I did find was red so I'm rolling with that. If anyone knows what it really is, please let me know.

"You look lovely (y/n)." Blaise addressed walking up to me.

"Why thank you." I flashed him a huge smiled doing a little curtsey. "You look quite dapper if I do say so myself." I was not lying at about that. Blaise looked good.

Everyone knew that he was a very attractive guy. Girls and guys alike were constantly throwing themselves at him. I knew that he was waiting on the perfect girl. Contrary to what people believe, Blaise was not someone who liked to play with girl's emotions. I couldn't wait to meet the lucky person that stole his heart.

My family put on these huge pureblood balls twice a year which I found to be rather boring. Witches and wizards from all over the world came out to attend their balls. One of them was during the summer and another was during the winter months a couple of days after Christmas.

When I was younger, I loved the balls. I loved getting dressed up and enjoying all the fancy things that my parents kept hidden every other day of the year.

But as I got older, I realized the balls were mostly for me. They were hoping that I would find someone at their balls I could end up marrying. I didn't understand why they so desperately wanted me to marry a pureblood since I wouldn't be carrying on the family name. That was the job for my older brothers.

"I noticed that you're wearing red. Which so happens to be Draco's favorite color." Blaise smirked taking a couple of sips of his champagne.

"I had no idea." I mumbled snatching a glass of champagne off the tray one of the waiters was carrying. Blaise didn't say anything, he just threw his head back and laughed. He knew that I was lying. Whenever he laughed you couldn't help but join in. I placed a hand over my mouth trying to quiet my giggles.

I knew that Blaise and I should be mingling with the other members of the party, but we didn't want to. We were happy just talking to each other. The two of us laughing caused almost everyone around us to look over and us and stare. I noticed a couple of girls who had their eye on Blaise were glaring at me. They had nothing to worry about. I had absolutely no interest in him.

"What about her?" I suggested gesturing over to a girl with long dark curly hair. "She's pretty."

"She is." Blaise shrugged and then let out an agitated groan. "My parents are calling me over to talk to this girl. I'll be back to check up on you and the Draco situation." Seemed like Blaise's parents had the same idea as mine.

There was no Draco and I situation which I had to keep reminding him about. I had always thought Draco was cute, but I'm not really sure how he felt about me. I thought he was going to end up dating Pansy, but they never did.

I wanted Draco to notice me in the way that I noticed him, but I knew that he only saw me as a younger sister. I stood off to the side sipping my champagne watching all these girls flock around Draco. but He looked bored. It looked as if he had absolutely no interest in whatever they were saying. I couldn't help but swoon at how amazing he looked in his black tux.

"He's not interested in them, you know?" Blaise was back. "He's only ever been interested in one girl."

"Are you sure he doesn't just see me as a little sister?" I nervously rocked back and forth on my heels. I was starting to get nervous watching all these gorgeous girls try to talk to him.

"I'm positive (y/n)." He promised. When I was sure that no one was looking at us, I grabbed Blaise's arm and dragged him off to one of the bathrooms.

I stood in front of the full length mirror and attempted to make myself look better. I touched up my makeup, readjusted my hair, and sprayed on some more perfume.

"How do I look?" I turned around to face Blaise giving him a little spin so he could take in my entire appearance.

"You look exquisite (y/n)." He replied. He said it with such certainty that I had to believe him.

"Thank you." I whispered nervously fiddling with my fingers. I could hear some music start playing and everyone start shuffling around looking for a partner. "Should I ask him to dance?"

"He would never turn you down." We walked back out of the bathroom and Blaise sat his empty glass on a passing tray. I scanned the crowd to see him standing by a window trying not to get himself noticed. "I'm so nervous."

"Wow." Blaise let out a low whistle. "You really do like him."

"Yeah." I nodded confirming his suspicions and taking a couple of steps in Draco's direction, "I really do."

#harry potter masterlist #harry potter preferences #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter x fem!reader #harry potter x you #draco malfoy x female reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x slytherin!reader #draco malfoy x y/n #ron weasley x ravenclaw reader #ron weasley x reader #ron weasly imagine

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