#insert spoiler warning here

[nectorbruise]

I was sketching and thinking about Black Friday

Did anybody watch that star kid show and knows who they are. Good ol lex foster and Ethan green, my favorite musical couple just behind Paulkins. My favorite punks, my tired parents, my lovely main characters(?) Ethan really isn’t but fuck you, he is in my heart

[meamiiikiii]

5% of a color headcanon.... two versions since b&w emphasizes the dagger more i think but i still like the warm tones ASFSADA

i am not biased towards rainbow daggers whatsoever i promise (lie)

((also friend is streaming now and im there too!! bit more info linked here, its rated mature tho))

[neverheardnothing]

took a dangerous day trip 😱

[limethefirst]

Void Runners Pt. 1

pairings: Deadpool x Wolverine x teen!reader

warnings: contains heavy spoilers for Deadpool and Wolverine, swearing, blood, the normal deadpooly stuff

summary: Reader has been trapped in the void for a few months now, after getting into trouble with the TVA, when they suddenly stumble upon a Deadpool and a Wolverine.

Part 2

a/n: if this gets popular enough I might write a part two, I'm having Deadpool and Wolverine brainrot, also this is unedited so pls tell me if you see mistakes

It had been 4 months since you had been sent to the Void; the apocalyptic like plain, becoming what you had accepted as your new home.

You were a time traveler, that had accidently messed up some big event and that caused the TVA to come and take care of you. You weren't sure what the big event was, something about some saving some rich guys parents. You thought you were doing a good thing by it but apparently not.

Whatever it was, it didn't matter anymore, you were now stuck here. You'd been alone most of the time, sometimes seeing other people but you had learned quickly into your stay that these others were part of this group formed by Cassandra Nova, an insanely powerful woman who you never dared cross paths with.

Until unfortunately today.

Sadly you stumbled upon the wrong people at the wrong time. As you were walking through the dusty plains, you saw two men falling from the sky, thinking back on your heroic days you felt obligated to help out. That was not the best idea, you tried to go up to the men but instead they started arguing when a fight suddenly broke out between them. By the time the fight had ended you had blood all over your (as clean as they can be in the void) shoes.

"Augh, I just cleaned these too." Is what seemed to snap the men out of whatever had just happened.

"Oh my gosh! How long has the movie been out? Five days, and we are already getting reader inserts? Wow!" The man in the red mask said to no one in particular, "And what might your name be sunshine?"

"Uh Y/N, are you guys okay, you seem to be stabbed in a lot of places?" You answered a bit concerned after seeing two men almost tear each other apart.

"Oh this? Sorry, my partner here has weird kinks-" The strange man is cut off by the other seemingly older man punching him in the jaw. "See what I mean kiddo?"

"Enough Wade." The older man gruffed, his arms crossing as he shakes his head disapprovingly.

"Whatever you say sugar cube!" The man known as Wade looked back at you, "Oh you must be wondering who we are huh! Well this hairy beast of a man is the one and only Wolverine, and I am your friendly neighbor Deadpool!" Wolverine looked at you and sighed at the at his 'partners' antics.

From there things only went downhill, and that is how you were stuck with them being hauled off to Cassandra Nova's lair.

"Awee are we having a flashback already?!" Deadpool's annoying voice rang from in front of you. Currently you were stuck in a ball like cage with, Johnny Storm, Wolverine and Deadpool.

Johnny began to explain to the men where we were all headed, going over the basics of who were about to meet and the type of woman Cassandra was. You looked a bit ahead as you noticed you were already here.

As you guys had come to a stop you saw the others being throw out of the cage, you held up your chained hands to the man before they could throw you as well, "I got it, thanks" jumping out before you got tossed as well.

At the same time you got down you heard Deadpool's odd comment, "Huh, Paul Rudd finally aged." You turned down at the man slightly and gave him a quick look of confusion unsure what he was talking about; his partner seemingly unphased by the comment, most likely used to it.

Looking ahead ignoring the bickering next happening to your right, you saw what seemed to be a bald woman in the mouth of the giant skull. As the dust cleared you could see her get up from the wheelchair she was sitting on, "What was the point of the wheelchair.." You dully commented.

Deadpool adding on, "Oh ableism great, that's not gonna go over well with the Woke mob!"

You looked at your surroundings, no longer caring about the scene unfolding before you, Deadpool began to talk with Cassandra, somehow coming up on the topic of a coke, loving roommate.

After a bit more talking between the two you hear Deadpool slandering Cassandra, and then telling her it was all Johnny who said it. This brought back your attention just in time to see Johnny's skin ripped from his skeleton.

"Not my favorite Chris." Deadpool says, not having much remorse for the scene in front of him.

"You piece of shit you just got him fucking killed." Wolverine adds, pointing at the remains of Johnny.

"Awe I kinda liked him," You mumbled to yourself, as Wolverine looked at you with a look of discouragement on his face, almost as if saying not to get Deadpool started with this.

"Hey we are all grieving," Deadpool yells, "He doesn't know what he was doing to the budget." He mumbled the last part.

Cassandra ignored his words and walked past the group, "Shush, Alioth's hungry."

"There must be some kind of mistake," Deadpool started again, "Big yellow is an anchor being and I'm Marvel Jesus, MJ if you're nasty." Cassandra turned her head a little as you stood next to them listening to their story, not getting the chance to hear it earlier. "This may be hard to hear but there's another British villain, he's gonna destroy my universe and I'm gonna stop him."

"Oh honey you don't really strike me as the world saving type." Cassandra answered him, this seemed to upset the laidback man. You watched as he seemed to straighten himself up hearing that. "Did I hit a nerve?" She turns back, almost sarcastically.

"I didn't want it to come to this," Deadpool says, "Either you help us or my friend here is gonna sing the entire second act of Music Man with no warm up"

You look at him confused, "What the hell is that?"

"Where'd you get the chair?" Wolverine asks Cassandra as she walks back towards the skull.

She quickly answers, "Every once in a while we get a Charles here, never mind though, he didn't care to find me."

Deadpool leans back seemingly annoyed, "Ughh Gen Z and their trauma bragging!" He shoots you a quick glance, "Can't you just stuff it down and turn it into a cancer like the rest of us?"

"But I'm not like the rest of you, except maybe the Wolverine, now we could be truly terrifying together." A light smile graced Cassandra's face as she watches you guys.

You watch their exchange a little more before you notice the purple mist coming up behind you guys slowly getting closer. As you turn back around you see Wolverine getting dragged through the ground and Deadpool backing up.

"I am so not with them." You tell Cassandra hoping that doesn't happen to you.

"Oh yes they are." Deadpool fires back, making sure he isn't next. Unfortunately for him he was, you watched as Cassandra got behind him and put her fingers in his head.

She began to whisper something and within the next minute she let go. Deadpool shook his head and started rambling yet again, "You are so mean! I could taste your fingers! They taste like hate, and where in God's name is the intimacy coordinator?!"

"You're so lost Mr Wilson, long before you came here." Cassandra told him.

He took out his knife and held it up, "This is baby knife, she's gonna fuck you in the face now."

Cassandra looked at the knife at back at him, "If you're going to kill me it's going to take more then a little blade."

"How about six?" Before she could say anything else, Wolverine came up behind her and stabbed her with his claws.

"Holy shit" You said covering your mouth.

Before you could celebrate, Cassandra began laughing and fell from the claws, "This has been fun but the big guy needs to eat and the rent is due." She turned around walking away as a looming shadow of darkness rose above the skeleton you were in.

Before anyone had a chance to say anything people had scattered and Deadpool grabbed you and hoisted you up over his shoulder taking you towards the machine Wolverine was trying to fix for an escape.

You hadn't a second to say anything because the next thing you knew, you were being taken with them hopefully away from the giant monster.

[ellestra]

The Voice from the Outer World

Dune is a story of failure. SPOILERS for Dune Part 2 below

Power corrupts and all of that. We all know this. So we would be able to avoid it, right? If you know what happens you can chose another option. You would be different.

And here's a story that shows that even when you know all of this and more and can literally see the future it's still not enough.

I get why people often think that to avoid this the person in power shouldn't want that power. That this would make them somehow immune. And this logic has multiple faults (like - how can you be good at doing something you hate?) and one of them is that just not wanting to abuse power doesn't mean you would do right things with it.

We are reminded multiple times in the film (and the books also aren't shy about it) that Fremen religious belief in a saviour is not something that arose naturally. It's a belief seeded by Bene Gesserit's Missionaria Protectiva. They seeded superstitions and myths in different cultures so they could use them in a future emergency. Everything Fremen believe about their Mahdi was created so their faith could be used by a Bene Gesserit in need. And both Jessica and Paul are aware of this even before they even set a foot on Arrakis.

It's specifically made for the saviour to be a foreign one (Lisan al-Gaib is The Voice from the Outer World) because the people who made and planned to use this prophecy were ones from an outsider culture. Paul doesn't hijack Fremen beliefs to insert himself as their white saviour. These beliefs was specifically created for someone like him to use.

It was made with purpose of hijacking Fremen religion into protecting the foreigners who know how this prophecy was constructed. This is a parasitic belief (cuckoo-like faith) and the truth doesn't set anyone free. We see why with Stilgar as he wants to believe so much that everything becomes a sign. Even when he's told this has been fabricated and he was manipulated he warps it into something that supports his beliefs not undermines them. I'm sure you've seen this in real life, in real politics if not religion.

Jessica and Chani got changed the most from their book versions. They've become opposite sides of the ideological divide. Not between religion and lack of it - Jessica obviously not a believer - but between using people and letting them decide their own future.

Book Jessica is more apprehensive of Paul's choices. She's often more worried he may not survive the trials than pushing for them for power. In here she becomes the driving force for using the messianic belief Bene Gesserit implanted for Paul's benefit. She makes sure Fremen believe he fits the story. She doesn't care about Paul's wishes to avoid this burden. She knows it doesn't matter when he tells the people the truth about Bene Gesserit, their abilities and their manipulation techniques. Belief is impervious to proof and confirmation bias makes you reject all evidence to the contrary.

But then, in the film, Jessica is kind of possessed. Stilgar warns Paul not to listen to the djinn but neither he nor his mother can stop listening to the voices. The film removes Alia's book doings but replaces them with foreshadowing of what she becomes. She whispers the truths about the future to her mother even before she is born. Funny, how this change makes her, not Paul, the first fully prescient Atreides. She is manipulating the events when Paul refuses to and that's a foreshadowing too. When Jessica took the Water of Life while pregnant she did it for the power this new position among the Fremen would give her. Alia never stood a chance. She was pre-born into this.

The only one trying to stand in the way of succumbing to the power corruption is movie version of Chani. She was never believer in a saviour. She wants her people to save themselves. They already have a plan for a better future that doesn't involve killing worlds for the Empire they never wanted anything to do with. They were not supposed to be warriors of the prophet. She sees this for what it is - a way to control her people. She understands this is just another form of enslavement. The only difference is that this one is embraced. No one listens to her when she tells them the truth. They only see what they want to see.

The power that comes from being close to the rule is just as blinding when you stand close to the throne as it is when you sit on it.

And the sad part is she knows she played a part in this happening to as she convinced Paul to give this a try. She didn't see the visions he saw so she hoped he can remain the person she fell in love with. When he submits to the way prescience shows him and takes over the faith we feel her heartbreak. She watches him becoming what he feared and everyone around him stops her from trying to save him because they get something out of it (not just the other Fremen or Jessica - Gurney puts atomic arsenal in Paul's hands).

Paul doesn't bring freedom. He just changes who holds the power but in the end the structures of power remain (the similarities between Saudarkar and Fremen are not accidental). And billions die so it can happen. But billions is a an abstract number. It's much easier to feel the consequences when they hit close and personal.

Everyone around Paul gets to gain something - Gurney gets revenge on Rabban, Jessica and Stilgar get to destroy the Harkonnens and the Emperor. They are on top now. The power corrupts before you even hold it. Just the promise of power is enough.

This film version of Chani doesn't let us forget that this is what we watch. That what is happening is not a good thing. We as humans have tendency to gloss over big numbers of deaths when it's some unseen people with whom we have no emotional connections. Through her eyes the loss is so much more personal. She loses her Usul to Paul Muad'Dib. And he takes her people and her planet too.

As Paul says - they are Harkonnens too. And they do what Harkonnens do too. The difference was always cosmetic.

And one more thing. A lot is said about Arabic and Muslim influences in Fremen culture and religion but they aren't the only ones. One other is the word used for the places where Fremen live - Sietch. It comes from Zaporozhian Cossack name for their fortified encampments - sich.

In the West the name Cossacks invokes the cruel Russian Imperial forces that tsars used to pacify conquered territories. But this is not what comes to my mind first. In the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth they were free people living in the borderlands of the Commonwealth on the territories often attacked by the Ottomans. The constant raids from the Turks meant they were warriors and constantly moving. But this also allowed for a lot of freedom as there wasn't a lot of direct control over these territories for the same reason. This meant that they were often joined by anyone wishing to have that freedom - from peasants escaping indenture to nobles escaping the law.

The dissatisfaction with the Polish rule eventually lead to an uprising and this part of Ukraine joined Russian Empire. That Empire destroyed all the freedoms Cossacks had and those independent warriors became just another enforcers of conformity for the Empire. They've become exactly what they fought against. I often wondered if Herbert chose the name Sietch intentionally to invoke this turn of events.

[downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le]

Inevitable (Alex Summers x Reader)

Inevitable (Alex Summers x Reader) Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 13,014 Warnings: violence, angst, fluff, death, injuries, mentions of unable to have children, sad ending, implied sexual actions Spoilers: I guess the plots of X-Men First Class, Days of Future Past, and Apocalypse but the films have been out for years so don't at me.

This is the story of Y/N L/N and Alex Summers - of Aura, the girl who could turn invisible and manipulate energy around her, and Havok, the boy who could generate and blast plasma from his body. A boy destined for destruction, and a girl who could prevent it.

Their story was always inevitable.

I'm going through an X-Men rewatch and I forgot how much of a chokehold some of these characters had me in, especially from the First Class era. As you can probably tell from my previous stories, I have an soft spot for the tragic ones, so here is my little story of Alex Summers who bloody deserved better.

1962 - C.I.A. Mutant Division

Y/N looked around at her surroundings as she followed Erik and Charles down corridor after corridor. She'd never met C.I.A agents before, let alone stepped inside one of their facilities. But Erik and Charles aren't C.I.A., she reminded herself as she took in the bland concrete walls and cold, harsh lighting above her. They were like her - mutants.

She hadn't believed them at first when they'd told her just a few hours ago inside the cafe she was closing up for the day. It had been a busy day and she hadn't had time for a drink of water let alone any reasonable break. She thought she was hallucinating when the two had entered the cafe, prattling on about how they knew who she was.

It was only when she demanded they prove it - that they were like her - and the taller one (Erik) had lifted every piece of dirty cutlery in the store and had them float into the foaming sink to be cleaned that she believed them.

That was almost seven hours ago, the drive from New York to Virginia giving the men more than enough time to bring her up to speed on what they were doing and why: they were gathering other mutants like her to stop another war from starting.

As she followed the two men through the facility, only now did she start to have doubts about their intentions. For all she knew, she was going to be experimented on and tortured, possibly killed.

'If we'd wanted you dead, we would've made sure of that back in New York,' Charles suddenly said without looking as he and Erick led the way.

'What? How did you-' Y/N started to ask, but cut herself off as she remembered what Charles' gift allowed him to do.

Y/N noticed her surroundings starting to change. Instead of a war bunker, the corridors started looking more home-like and the lights grew warmer. As they approached a big orange door, Y/N heard voices speaking and laughing in the room beyond. They sounded... happy.

Finally, Charles looked at her and spoke, but not with his mouth. I promise you, Y/N, he said into her mind, freaking her out a little bit, you don't have to be scared here. You don't have to hide who you are from the people beyond this door. Here, you can be free. Happy, even.

Y/N looked between Charles and the door for a moment, imagining whose faces belonged to which laugh, which voice. She imagined herself doing those same things, and that was what convinced her that she was in the right place.

'Are you ready to meet your new family?' Charles asked aloud this time, to which Y/N nodded and Erik opened the door.

Y/N was met with six people sitting around a coffee table chatting and laughing while having a few drinks. She took a moment to admire them all - a short girl with dark hair and visible tattoos all along her shoulders and arms; a red-head who seemed to be doing a lot of the talking in the group; a man with charcoal skin and broad shoulders in a tight grey vest-shirt; a boy with glasses who looked really shy next to a gorgeous blonde girl who could very well have been a super model; and a blond boy in a dark t-shirt and leather jacket who had the smoothest smile Y/N had ever seen.

They were the perfect picture - how could she possibly interrupt that? Y/N was about to leave when suddenly Charles called for everyone's attention and that smooth smile from the blond was now aimed at her. Her heart thudded in her chest, embarrassment at being caught flooding her cheeks and she just had the visceral response to hide, hide, hide.

'Everyone,' Charles started proudly as he motioned to Y/N, 'this is Y/N. She will be- Wait, where did she go?'

Y/N watched as everyone looked around the room even though she she hadn't moved. Both Charles and Erik looked at her, but they didn't seem to see her. That's when she looked down at her hands and found her entire body covered in a translucent light only she could see. And that could only mean one thing.

'Sorry, I'm right here.' Y/N concentrated hard on revealing herself and when she could no longer see the translucent light, she knew she could be seen again.

'Whoa,' the red-head said, his mouth gaping in shock.

'That... is wicked cool,' the broad-shouldered man exclaimed.

'As I was saying before,' Charles said, sounding sheepish at forgetting her ability, 'this is Y/N. She will be joining you all and her gift... Well, we will leave that to her to discuss that with you all. Erik?'

'Yes,' Erik replied, and then the two of them were gone, closing the door behind them and leaving Y/N standing all alone.

Y/N was usually a confident person - she had to be as a waitress - but having six pairs of eyes staring at her so intently had her wanting to hide again. The beautiful blonde stood up from her place on the white couch and sauntered over to her. Y/N found herself looking up at the woman, who seemed to have legs for days and the most beautiful smile as she approached.

'I'm Raven,' she said, holding a hand out in greeting. When Y/N shook her hand, she gestured to the couch. 'You've come at the best time. We were all just about to discuss our gifts with one another.'

Y/N was quickly dragged to the couch and plunged into an in-depth conversation with the six. After only a few minutes, Y/N felt as if she'd always been there, talking and laughing and joking around and becoming more confident. Although, she couldn't compete with the blond boy with the smooth smile from earlier, now known as Alex Summers.

In the short time she'd heard him speak, she'd deduced he was the cockiest man in every room ever. No wonder he was put into solitary confinement, she thought when he mentioned he was picked up by Charles and Erik at his army base. He's probably been the instigator of more than one fight.

'We should think of some code names,' Raven suggested enthusiastically. 'We're technically government agents now. We should have code names. I want to be called Mystique.'

'Damn, I wanted to be called Mystique,' Sean, the red-head, groaned in fake misery, causing everyone to laugh.

'Well, tough. I called it,' Raven said, then her voiced changed as she physically did, eliciting gasps from the group as she now sat as an exact replica of Sean. 'And I am way more mysterious than you.'

The group gave her a round of applause as she morphed back into the beautiful blonde, but now that she'd revealed her gift, Y/N wondered if what she showed everyone now was her true form or just another disguise.

One by one they went around the room, showing off their abilities and coming up with names for each other. The mood somewhat soured when Angel asked Hank who he wanted to be.

'How about Bigfoot?' Alex jested as he took another sip of his coke. His condescending laughter communicated that it wasn't a nice joke, and that didn't sit well with Y/N.

'Well you know what they say about guys with big feet,' Raven said, eyeing his own feet before she continued, 'and, um, yours are kind of small.'

Alex's smirk dropped instantaneously as the group laughed and oohed at Raven's burn. Except for Darwin, who rounded the group back to the topic at hand.

'Okay, okay, settle down now,' he said. 'What can you do, Alex. What is your gift?'

'How about being burnt by women?' Y/N murmured just loud enough for the group to hear, earning another round of laughs and a hard glare from Alex. Y/N held his gaze with a smirk in challenge, taking a sip of her own drink. He might've been top dog back in army bootcamp, but Y/N didn't like bullies, especially if they were meant to be teammates.

Alex eventually dropped his glare, his whole demeanour changing as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. 'Um, it's just... It's just that... I can't do... I can't do it in here.'

'Can you do it out there?' Darwin asked, and when Alex hesitated to answer, the rest of the group started goading and pleading him to show his abilities. Y/N even found herself intrigued. What could Alex do that he needed open space for?

The group cheered victoriously as Alex gave in to peer pressure, put his drink down and climbed through the broken glass courtesy of Sean moments before. As Alex set up outside, Y/N joined the others who leaned out the broken window to watch him.

'Get down when I tell you,' Alex said as he lined up in front of the bronze statue that's head still smoked - courtesy of Angel's fireball during her demonstration.

'Get back,' Alex said, and Y/N leaned back with the rest of the group, but they all apparently were too intrigued and so they all leaned out from behind the wall to watch him.

Alex went to make a move until he realised the group hadn't listened to him. 'Get back!' he warned again, but when no one moved, he faced the statue again. 'Whatever.'

Y/N found herself gaping at Alex as he seemingly powered up, red rings of plasma rotating around him until he slung them out into the open space but uncontrolled. The last one hit the statue, slicing it on a diagonal that had its head and part of its torso falling to the grass in flames.

The group erupted in rounds of applause as Alex walked back to them. He appeared more confident now as his teammates applauded. Y/N figured he wasn't used to that. Perhaps that was why he'd been in solitary confinement as much as he had been.

'Well, I'm glad you did that out here,' Darwin said, looking at the wreckage slightly worried. 'You've caused... a bit of chaos.'

'I can't control it, unfortunately,' Alex said, looking at the damage he'd caused. 'I'm hoping that might change one day.'

'Don't be ashamed of your gift, Alex,' Raven said, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. 'You're amazing.' She looked to the rest of the group. 'We all are.'

When Raven did that, Alex's attention fell onto Y/N again, a skeptical look on his face. 'So what about you? Do you do anything useful or do you just disappear when you get a little embarrassed?'

Y/N's cheeks heated with anger. Who the hell was he to judge her? He didn't even know her.

'At least I don't cause havoc with my gift,' she bit back, motioning to the flaming buildings and statue.

Where a normal person would look at the damage and wince with remorse, Alex had the audacity to look at his handiwork and laugh in amusement. 'Havoc. I like that. Maybe that should be my code name, except change the c to a k so it looks cooler written down.'

Y/N rolled her eyes while the others complimented how good a name it was. But she had to admit it was a fitting one, just a shame he turned her insult into a name for a hero.

Y/N released a sigh then held out a hand to the fires in the courtyard, concentrating on grasping the energy in the air. After a moment, small bubbles of white energy appeared and Y/N was vaguely aware that her new friends had gone quiet as she forced the bubbles to encapsulate the fires. With a flick of her fingers, the bubbles started shrinking, depriving the fires of oxygen and eventually extinguishing them.

When Y/N turned back to the group, she found them all gaping at her in wonder and shock.

'Well, that was cool,' Angel said, earning hums of agreement from the others.

'What exactly did you just do?' Hank asked.

'I don't really know what it is,' Y/n answered honestly. 'But, I think I can manipulate energy or something like that. I can create those force fields, and as you saw before...'

Y/N let the energy hide her, and she relished the shocked faces of her friends as they could no longer see her. Feeling cheeky, she ran at Alex then dropped and swiped his legs out from underneath him, sending him sprawling to the ground.

He landed with a resounding thud, his breath escaping him in a loud, 'Oof,' as he did. Only then did Y/N reveal herself, looking down at him with a smug smile.

'...I can turn invisible.'

The others clapped in appreciation of her demonstration while Alex looked up at her in annoyance. Y/N offered her hand to help him up and surprisingly he took it and together they pulled him to his feet.

'So what, you can control, like, the Force, or something?' he asked.

Y/N rolled her eyes. 'This isn't Star Wars, asshole. It's more like... I can feel the aura of the energy around me and I connect with it and then use it to my will.'

'That's it!' Angel exclaimed suddenly. 'That's your name!"

'What is?' Y/N asked, confused.

'Aura!'

'Aura.' Y/N tried it on her tongue. She had to admit, it had a nice ring to it.

'Aura, Havok, Banshee, Darwin, Angel...' Raven said each of their new code names as she looked at them, grabbing a drink for herself from the table. She looked to Hank. 'We'll find one for you soon, Hank,' she reassured, then pointed to herself. 'And Mystique.' She raised her drink high and everyone else did the same. 'Here's to our new life. Here's to being our true selves.'

'Here, here,' Sean said as they all clinked their drinks together in solidarity.

'So, what do you think?' Alex said just to Y/N as seperate conversations between the others started. Angel switched on some music and her and Raven jumped on the coffee table to start dancing.

'About what?' Y/N asked.

'Are you going to be your true self here? With us?' he asked, and there was a little challenge in his question, as if he really wanted to add Or are you going to hide away?

Y/N had so far lived her life in constant fear. But Erik and Charles said they needed her, that the world needed her. Perhaps it was time to stop hiding.

Y/N flashed Alex a small smile, reflecting his challenge in her own eyes. 'I don't think you could handle the true me, Havok.'

Alex's grin widened devilishly. 'Try me, Aura.'

1962 - X Mansion, pre-Cuba

It had been weeks since the C.I.A Mutant Division facility had been attacked by Shaw, that Angel had chosen his side, that Darwin had sacrificed himself in the effort to save them all, Angel included.

Egos bruised and hope extinguished, Charles had brought those who remained back to his mansion to train for the upcoming battle with Shaw. Which is what Y/N was doing with Raven when Charles entered the gym requesting her presence in the war bunker.

'You want me to what?' both Alex and Y/N exclaimed together in the bunker, gaping at Charles because he'd clearly lost his mind.

'You heard me,' Charles said nonchalantly, walking to stand in the middle of the room. 'I want you two to spar while you, Y/N, protect me. Expand your range of concentration so you can control different energies at once, manipulate numerous fields doing different things simultaneously. Alex now has the tools he needs to control his power so he won't be as volatile as he once was.'

'Hey now,' Alex said, clearly offended.

Charles offered a mediocre apologetic smile before readdressing Y/N. 'You have to push the limits you have set for yourself in order to become stronger. I can sense your full potential hasn't even been scraped at yet. How about we try today.'

Y/N looked between Charles and Alex, who also looked at Charles like he was crazy. But there was an air of truth to his demands. Shaw was no novelty mutant, and neither were Angel and the other mutants following him. If Y/N didn't do this, she would be their next victim, and what kind of teammate would she be if she died too early?

Y/N eventually nodded her agreement. 'Okay, let's do this.'

'You sure about this?' Alex asked her.

'Aw, is big old Alex Summers worried about hurting me?' Y/N taunted, though she didn't really know why. His concern was sort of sweet.

It disgusted her.

Alex's concern scrunched up in annoyance on his stupidly beautiful face. 'No. I just... Oh, screw this. Fine let's spar, L/N.'

Y/N went to stand at one end of the bunker and Alex at the opposite end. Charles planted himself right in the middle of the two, looking too casual for Y/N's liking. Did he really have that much faith in them?

'Whenever you two are ready,' Charles called out, rocking on the back of his heels in anticipation.

'Okay,' Alex said hesitantly as he fired himself up. His new chest plate helped him to control his plasma so he surely would hit the professor if Y/N didn't do something.

Just as Alex fired, Y/N placed a force field over Charles and the plasma blast bounced off it and straight back at Alex. Alex had to duck quickly as his own blast came hurtling back at him, and Charles let out a small laugh as the blast made a small dent in the wall behind Alex.

'Well this is going to be fun,' Charles said, and the fight truly begun.

Alex would sling shot after shot at Y/N and the professor, but Y/N deflected every shot and held the force field around the professor soundly. At one point, Y/N managed to to turn in visible while Alex was distracted and landed a few blows.

But Alex managed to knock her back, the blow forcing her to reveal herself. She had no time to worry about being exposed however, as Alex powered up for what seem to be one giant blast. Y/N managed to bring up a force field around her as the blast connected, but instead of bouncing up off it, the plasma seemed to sink into the force field.

Y/n looked around in confusion, feeling the energy flowing stronger through the force field and increasing with every second. She was vaguely aware of someone calling her name - it sounded like Charles - but the energy was becoming too much to hold up now.

Y/N let out a cry as she released the force field, and the shockwave it sent through the bunker sent both her and Alex flying to opposite ends of the bunker.

Y/N smacked into the solid brick hard, sending an intense throbbing through her head as she hit the ground. Her vision blurred and she felt drained of power like never before. Two blurry figures were in front of her, their mouthes moving but not saying a word. She thought they were saying her name.

After a few more seconds, her hearing came back to her as well as her vision, showing Alex and Charles kneeling beside her with worry on their faces.

'Y/N, can you hear me?' Charles asked, scanning over her body for any injuries.

'Are you okay? Can you hear us? Say something,' Alex said, eyes searching her face for any sign that she understood anything they were saying.

Y/N hummed in reassurance and his worry dissipated into relief. Alex quickly helped her into a sitting position as she gathered herself. 'Well,' she breathed out, giving Alex an amused smile, 'that was... fun.'

This elicited a laugh out of both men as they helped her to her feet. Y/N was very aware of Alex's hand holding her steady on the small of her back as they both listened to Charles.

'My! You two create quite the show,' he exclaimed with an enthusiasm that kind of scared Y/N. 'Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant work, you two. You have both grown in leaps and bounds these past few weeks. I daresay you will both be quite powerful when you fully master your gifts. Now, take the afternoon off, possibly head to Hank in the lab for some patching up and look overs. I will see you both first thing tomorrow.'

'He sounds like a professor talking to students,' Alex muttered after Charles had left.

Y/N shrugged. 'Well, we kind of are students, so I guess that would make him our professor.'

The two shared a small laugh and both their eyes slipped to his arm, which was attached to the hand that still pressed gently against her back. Alex quickly dropped his hand and Y/N took a decent step away from him. Well now it's awkward.

'G-Good fight,' Alex finally said after seconds of silence, unable to meet her eyes. He did the thing where he rubbed his neck and Y/N's stomach did a little flip at how cute the gesture was.

Quit that, she told herself, then realised she hadn't responded to him. 'Y-yeah. You too. Sorry... for sending you into the wall.'

'It's okay. I've been hit harder,' he said, and his cocky smirk was back. Something about his statement rubbed Y/N up the wrong way, like he was undermining her ability. That was a pretty decent fight they just had.

Y/N just huffed and stormed out of the bunker. 'Whatever,' she muttered as she left him behind.

'Hey,' Alex called out as he ran to catch up with her. 'What's wrong? You want me to apologise too? Okay, I'm sorry for sending you into the wall, too. There? Happy?'

'You know,' she started, stomping up the stairs that would take her to the first floor of the mansion, 'you can be such a jerk, Alex.'

'What are you talking about?' he asked, and he had the audacity to sound genuinely clueless.

At the top of the stairs Y/N finally stopped to let Alex catch up. She didn't care that he was taller than her, she looked up at him with annoyance in her eyes. 'You can never admit that someone could be better than you, let alone that they could be your equal.'

His face screwed up in confusion. 'What? That's not what I meant. Where did you get that impression from?'

'You think yourself superior to us all, and for what? We all have gifts, Alex. We are all special and useful and powerful. Yet you make fun of Hank, you belittle me. What is your problem?!'

Alex stepped towards Y/N, closing what little space there had been between until she felt his breath brushing her heated cheeks. 'You know, I was just about to pay you a compliment but forget it.'

'I wouldn't want a compliment from you, Alex. They're more like insults than anything,' Y/N said then stormed off.

'Princess!' Alex called out after her in a last ditch effort to have the last word.

'Jerk!' she answered over her shoulder.

'Coward!'

'Asshole!'

Y/N finally entered the lab and Hank was already looking at her crossed arms.

'You know, you two really need to take your fights outside,' he simply said, already reaching for his equipment to check her health.

Y/N raised a brow in a silent question, to which Hank responded, 'The walls and floors to this place aren't as thick as they appear.'

Downstairs where Y/N had left Alex smouldering, a certain telepath entered Alex's mind. Well that's an interesting flirting tactic.

'Oh, piss off,' Alex hissed aloud as he walked in the opposite direction towards his assigned bedroom. Y/N was the most aggravating person in existence. Flirting with her was the last thing on Alex's mind.

I don't know, I think you two would make a rather nice couple, Charles interjected again.

'I said piss off!'

1962 - Cuba Beach

Y/N was locked in a fight with Riptide when she saw Alex and Sean crash onto the beach, Angel having shot them down. As she went to attack, Alex shoved Sean out of range as he unleashed his uncontrolled plasma rings, his chest plate missing.

He caught her wings, slicing them in half and sending her flying to the ground, but as Alex helped Sean to his feet, Y/N spied Angel get to her feet, rage in her eyes and fire burning in her mouth.

Alex's back was turned. He would never see it coming.

Y/N, rejuvenated by the threat, turned back to Riptide and conjured up a large energy wave and sent it hurtling at Riptide. He tried bringing up a wall of wind to counteract it, but the wave was stronger and sent him into the side of the uprooted submarine. He fell to the sand with a hard thud and didn't move.

Y/N immediately ran for Alex and Sean, hands raised and conjuring up a force field around her friends just as Angel spat fireball after fireball at the two of them. The fireballs bounced right off the force field, angering Angel even more as she turned her attention to Y/N.

Before she could attack, Y/N trapped Angel in another force field, raised her off the beach, and sent her out over the ocean where she finally let the force field drop. It hurt her to hear her old friend's scream as she fell into the deep water, but Angel had done this to herself.

Y/N turned back to the boys. 'Are you two okay?' she asked, looking over them for any injuries. All she could find was Alex's bare chest and a hole in Sean's wing suit.

'We had it covered,' Alex said, his tone annoyed.

Y/N scoffed. She couldn't believe it. He was still being a self-righteous jerk in the middle of a battle?

'I just saved your life, asshole,' she said, stepping towards him in anger. 'Maybe you should be thanking me instead of complaining like a little boy.'

'Get down,' he said, his eyes on something over her shoulder, but she didn't care. He wasn't listening, but she would make him.

'Don't you tell me what to do you self-righteous jerk-'

'I said get down!'

Before she knew what was happening, Alex was pushing her behind him as he sent plasma rings at Riptide, who Y/N obviously hadn't knocked out entirely and was lining up to attack her from behind.

Riptide saved himself from being sliced like the statue back at the C.I.A. with a small tornado, but the impact from the plasma rings sent him flying over the submarine and out of sight.

'And I just saved yours,' Alex said as her tuned back to a shocked Y/N. He was panting heavily, obviously not used to exerting so much energy in such a short time frame. 'Now we're even.'

The way his words were haggard from his lack of breath made his voice raspy and Y/N hated how much the sound tingled up her spine pleasantly.

Y/N opened her mouth to retort at him - tell him how stupid and reckless and irresponsible and idiotic he was - but she couldn't find anything to say, and so snapped her gaping gob shut in indignation. The two just stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, eyes locked as so many unspoken emotions passed between each other.

Until Sean walked in between the two of them, shaking his head in disbelief. 'Damn, get a room, you two,' he said, his tone both disgusted and amused as he started walking back to Charles and Moira still on the crashed jet.

'We're not-' Y/N started.

'It's nothing like-' Alex interjected at the same time, but Sean was already out of earshot.

Y/N and Alex looked back at each other, both their cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Alex was the one to finally break the silence. 'We should...' he trailed off as he gestured after Sean.

'Right,' Y/N immediately answered, grateful for the change in subject. They still had a fight to win, otherwise the whole world would fall into another war.

Y/N and Alex followed Sean swiftly, happy to leave the awkward interaction behind them. But even after the fight, Y/N didn't know about Alex, but maybe there was a little truth to what Sean's words implied. It wasn't that Alex was unattractive. He was just... infuriating.

But he had saved her life, put his body on the line protect her. That meant he cared for her in some capacity... right?

1967 - X Mansion

'You're what?!' Y/N exclaimed, standing up from her seat in the middle of Charles' office.

'I'm sorry, Y/N, but I have no choice,' Charles said, his voice sad and exhausted.

Y/N should've seen this coming. She'd seen the signs. How Charles had let his hair grow out, how the shadow of a beard grazed his jawline. How he lounged in his wheelchair instead of sitting with his usual perfect posture. And the hope and colour of his eyes had faded to loss and hopelessness.

'Yes, you do,' Y/N argued, slamming her hands on his desk. 'You can choose to keep fighting. You can choose to keep helping and teaching. You can choose hope, Charles.'

'There is no hope left, Y/N,' Charles replied, dejected as he looked anywhere but Y/N's eyes. 'Erik was right. The world is not meant for mutants. The world does not want mutants.'

Y/N walked around the desk to kneel before his wheelchair. 'You can't truly believe that, Charles,' she said trying to catch his gaze. 'After all you have done, after everything we've been through, you cannot believe that. Look at what you've achieved!'

She gestured to the room, but she meant the school as a whole, whose corridors buzzed with students who possessed unique powers. Admittedly the numbers had dwindled significantly because of the Vietnam War, with most of the teachers and the older students being drafted. Y/N had managed to not be drafted so far, and had dedicated every second she had to teaching. She was now in her late 20s and had learned all she could as a student. It was her turn to teach the next generation what it means to be a mutant.

But regardless of numbers, there were still children who needed help. They couldn't close. They just couldn't.

'Please, Charles,' she said, placing a gentle hand on his cheek to guide his eyes to meet hers. He looked in so much pain - a pain Y/N couldn't see but she could certainly try to understand. 'There is still hope. There is still good in the world. We just have to find it again.'

Charles didn't say anything at first, and Y/N took that as a sign that maybe she'd gotten through to him. Since beginning her teaching career, Charles had become like an older brother to her. He hadn't given up on her when she didn't believe in herself all those years ago, she wasn't going to give up on him now.

But Charles gently took her hand away from his face and turned his chair so he faced away from her. 'Hope is a human error. I've already made up my mind, Y/N. I suggest you forget about all of this and go live what life you have left. God knows society won't allow you a full one.'

Y/N remained crouching, too shocked to argue, too horrified to be angry. As Charles turned his back on her - busied himself with his bookshelf - Y/N left the room in a daze, still unsure what had just happened. That's how she felt for the rest of the day as she taught and supervised, students constantly asking her if she was okay as she usually wasn't as silent as she was.

Y/N easily deflected the questions, but she couldn't ignore the breaking of her heart every time she spoke with a student, saw them master an ability, ask a question. How would she break the news to them? A more accurate question would be how could she? They looked up to her, to Charles, to all of them. Some of them had no homes to go back to, no families that accepted them or no families at all.

By the time the last bell rang, Y/N was on the brink of breaking down.

It was now late at night, the children well and truly asleep. But Y/N remained awake, walking the mansion, dreading breaking the news tomorrow during the assembly. God knew Charles was in no condition to break the news himself even though he was the headmaster. And Hank hated public speaking despite being a teacher. No, she had to do it, but she'd be breaking hundreds of hearts in the process.

As she reached the front foyer, looking around and remembering her first few days there, remembering the first few days of the school opening and it being full of enthusiastic and excited children, tears welled up in her eyes.

They'd just started to slip when the front doors clanged open. Y/N immediately went into defensive mode, her hands lighting up as her mutation activated

Alex threw his hands up in faux surrender. 'Whoa! Easy Y/N, it's just me!'

Y/N breathed a long sigh of relief as she let her hands drop. 'Jesus, Alex. You mind knocking next time? What are you even doing here? It's two in the morning.'

Alex was also a teacher at the school, but he sometimes slept off campus as his family home was just a few suburbs away. He usually didn't slip back in until just before class though so this encounter was a little surprising.

'I needed to see the professor,' he said, then his face scrunched with worry as he looked over Y/N. 'Were you just crying?'

Y/N quickly turned her back to him to wipe away the tears that had escaped. 'I'm fine. It's nothing.'

'No it's not,' Alex said, and he took quick steps until he stood beside Y/N. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and managed to turn her to face him. He looked down at her with such concern Y/N felt more tears welling up.

He was a dick. From the day they'd met he'd solidified that for himself. But the past five years had seen him mature, grow, change in ways Y/N had no idea he was capable of. She saw how gentle he was with the children, how fiercely protective he'd become of them.

And while they still clashed and fought like cats and dogs, they'd found comfort in each other more than once. They would always laugh on the terrace late at night as they had a nightcap, downloading their days to one another; Y/N would occasionally bring Alex food when she knew he hadn't made it to lunch because he was so busy with work; and Y/N would wake up sometimes from nightmares to Alex comforting her.

Out of all the original X-Men group, those two had become the closest. With Charles busy running the school, Hank busy with his lab, Raven, Erik, and Angel off recruiting for their Brotherhood, and Sean deciding to go see the world, Alex and Y/N only had each other.

'What's wrong?' Alex asked so gently. 'What happened?'

Y/N couldn't get a word out, her heartbreak finally bubbling to the surface as tears and sibs wracked her body.

'Hey, hey, hey,' Alex said as he pulled her tight to his chest, arms wrapping securely around her, hands rubbing up and down her back soothingly. Y/N clung to him for dear life, the only part of her body she could control as she continued crying. 'It's all right. I've got you.'

They stayed like that for a few minutes before Y/N had no more tears to cry. When she finally pulled away, there was a dark patch of tears staining his white t-shirt that he wore under a plaid overskirt. 'Sorry about that.'

'Don't be. Ever,' he said, and Y/N had never seen him so serious before. 'Now, what's wrong?'

'Charles is closing down the school,' she said, voice dejected.

'What?' Alex looked up the stairs then back to Y/N, confusion and anger morphing his features. 'I'm gonna go talk to him.'

He made to run up the stairs and no doubt give Charles a piece of his mind, but Y/N quickly grasped his wrist and halted him. 'You can't,' Y/N said. 'He's already made his mind up.'

'Like hell he has,' Alex seethed, making to leave again but Y/N pulled him back.

'Alex,' she pleaded with him, 'believe me if I could change his mind I would be up there right now doing so. But... he has no hope anymore. The war has dwindled us thin. He doesn't see the good in the world anymore. That's not something we can give back to him. He has to find that again on his own.'

Alex looked ready to argue, jaw clenching as he looked between the stairs and Y/N. But Y/N slipped her hand into his and squeezed it gently and his features softened. He rubbed the back of his neck - as he always did - as he let out a defeated sigh. 'So I guess there isn't any point in informing him that I've been drafted for the war?'

Y/N's eyes bulged and her heart rate spiked with fear. 'You what?' she asked, but she'd heard him correctly.

His jaw clenched as if he didn't want to elaborate. 'Got the call this morning. I'm just surprised it's taken this long for them to find me again.'

That's right. Y/N sometimes forgot he had been in the army just before they met. 'When do you leave?' she asked.

'Two days from now,' he said regrettably.

Y/N never considered herself an emotional person, but tears welled up in her eyes again. 'It's just not fair,' she said, breathless as she tried to keep the tears back. 'You deserve to be free. You deserve to be happy, Alex.'

'Hey, hey,' he cooed, using both hands to cradle her head and neck, forcing her eyes to meet his. 'I'll come back. I promise. And who says I haven't been free and happy?'

He swallowed thickly as his eyes scanned over Y/N's face, hesitating on her lips before looking back at her eyes. Y/N felt then something change. In the air, between them, possibly both - she couldn't quite tell. But the way he was looking at her, how he held her so preciously, had her heart racing.

'The past five years here have been the most free and happy I've ever been,' Alex admitted. 'Training and teaching with Charles and Hank... and you. You have given me a home away from home, a new family. You've protected me when no one else would; you've laughed and cried and fought with me, for me...'

He leaned in closer now, as if there was a gravitational force pulling them together. 'I will come back, Y/N. To you.'

Alex Summers was a dick, but he was also a kind and loyal man. A man silently laying out his heart before her despite their previous disagreements.

'Promise?' she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

'Promise,' he said, and with that confirmation Y/N stood up on her toes to lock her lips with Alex's.

His hands cradled her face still as he held her to him, their lips melding harmoniously as they kissed. This had been building in Y/N since day one when he'd flashed her that smooth smile that sent her stomach into somersaults. Every fight (verbal or physical), every conversation, every drink they shared, every looked that passed between them, it had all been leading to this.

They finally pulled apart but pressed their foreheads together as they caught their breaths.

'I've been wanting to do that for a long time now,' Alex admitted, his words breathless.

'How long?' Y/N asked, curious.

'Since day one,' he answered, then let out a small chuckle. 'I didn't know it at the time, and when I finally did I never wanted to admit it. I think Charles and everyone else knew before I did.'

'It was the same for me,' Y/N assured him, and Alex smiled brightly before he pulled her in for another kiss.

The rest of the night was spent catching up on lost time. Y/N was thanking Charles that all teachers' rooms were at the other end of the mansion to the students' rooms. Y/N and Alex managed an hour of sleep before the rays of dawn warmed them awake.

'We probably shouldn't have done that,' Y/N said, tracing a finger along Alex's toned stomach.

'We were pretty quiet, I thought,' Alex said, stopping threading his fingers through Y/N's hair to press a kiss to the top of her head. 'Though, you did get a bit loud when I-'

'Shut up, asshole,' she said, giving him a slight shove that sent the both of them into a quiet giggling fit. Once they'd both calmed down, Y/N returned to tracing Alex's abs. 'I mean, we shouldn't have done that because you're leaving in two days.'

'Yeah, we certainly have great timing, huh?' Alex tried joking but when Y/N didn't laugh, he sat up in bed bringing her with him. 'Hey, I told you I will come back. Nothing's going to stop that.'

'You can't assure me that,' Y/N countered.

'What was that whole thing about having hope?' Alex questioned, and when Y/N couldn't find an answer. 'I believe in us, Y/N. I have hope. You taught me that. I will come back. I promise.'

Y/N still had her doubts but she allowed herself to play into the fantasy that it would all end up okay, and she leaned in for another mind-melting kiss.

'Okay, Alex,' she conceded. 'But just know you're still an asshole.'

'And you're still a princess. But you're my princess.'

As the two got ready for the day, Alex asked, 'So what are you going to do? When the school closes down.'

Y/N had been thinking about it since Charles told her and hadn't been sure if it was the right thing to do, but she had to try. 'I heard that Raven has broken off from Erik and is going about their cause on her own. I'm going to go find her and bring her home.'

'That's going to be dangerous,' Alex said, his tone worried.

'And going to war isn't?" she countered. 'Raven is like my sister. I've got to help her. There is good in her, she's just angry at the world. You're right. I have to keep hoping, even if everyone else has lost it. Because we are worth it.'

She walked up to Alex to cradle his face as he had done so many times the night just gone. 'We are worth it,' she whispered.

Alex placed a hand of his own over hers, pressing it closer to his face which had only gotten more handsome over the years. 'You're amazing, you know that right?'

Y/N just smiled before bringing him in for another kiss. When they broke apart she took a moment to contemplate his face then laughed.

'What is it?' he asked, an amused smile on his lips.

'We're just two idiots, aren't we?' she said, her tone bordering on sad. 'All that time wasted on arguing. All seems stupid now in the face of danger and death.'

'I disagree,' Alex said as he took her hand and headed for the bedroom door. 'I wouldn't change that time for the world. I am who I am because of that time, and you were always so cute when you were mad.'

'Hey!'

1973 - X Mansion

Y/N breathed a sigh of contentment as she stood out the front of the mansion, all tidied up and ready to reopen.

'I forgot what it used to look like without the overgrown weeds and dusty windows,' Charles admitted as he looked over the entrance too.

'Now whose fault would that be?' Hank asked with a smug smirk on his lips, but it quickly dropped with Charles' side eye.

Y/N smiled at the familiar banter. It had been a long six years full of struggle and pain and loss since Charles officially closed the school. But a man called Logan from the future had convinced Charles of something Y/N had been unable to, and while Y/N hadn't be able to bring Raven home, she'd been able to help their future and bring Charles back to life.

It had taken a few weeks to clean the mansion up with just the three of them. They had no one else to ask. Logan was missing, Raven too. Erik had gone into hiding, and Sean and Angel and most other mutants had been subjected to and killed by Trask's cruel Sentinel trials. None of them had a chance to say goodbye, and that very thought haunted Y/N even now.

And Alex... Last time Y/N checked, Raven had freed him and other mutants in the army who'd been locked up from the rest of the soldiers for some reason. No doubt for experiments. Y/N had been on base that day, but she'd gone to another bunker with other mutants. Her and Raven had stayed behind after that; Y/N never got even a glimpse of him, but Raven said he was okay and that he missed her.

'That doesn't matter now,' Y/N said. 'What matters is we're doing what we were meant to be doing all along. Speaking of which...' Y/N turned to the two men kind of sheepishly. '...I actually can't start teaching again just yet. I have to go.'

'What?' Hank asked. 'Why? We need you here.'

'I know, and I have every intention of coming back,' Y/N hastily reassured. 'I just... I need to go find someone.'

'Who?' Hank asked, but Charles was looking at her knowingly.

'It's Alex, isn't it,' he asked, but it wasn't really a question. Besides, he'd probably read her mind.

Y/N nodded. 'He used to call me from base every two weeks, send letters once a month. But then the calls stopped coming about a year ago, and so did the letters. I didn't even know if he was alive until Raven and I went to his air base. But I didn't see him, and now I need to find him to see if he did make it home after all.'

Charles looked at her and he smiled, the action caught somewhere between pride and sadness. 'You really love him, don't you?' he asked softly.

Y/N found the same smile stretching across her lips as she nodded. 'Very much so.'

Charles chuckled softly as he looked away, then somewhere over her shoulder. 'Very well then, off you go. But... something tells you'll find him closer to home than you think.'

Confused, Y/N turned to follow where he was looking over her shoulder and saw a black Cadillac pulling into the driveway. It wasn't until the driver pulled up in front of the building and stepped out that Y/N realised what Charles meant.

Alex Summers stood facing her from the driver's door, smiling smoothly at her as he pulled off his aviators. 'Hey, princess,' he said, his tone somewhere between his usual swagger and pure relief.

Y/N flew down the front steps and over to him. He held his arms out expecting a hug, but all Y/N saw was red as she lined up to slap him square across his face. The sound was crisp and cut through the air, silencing even the birds.

Alex was stunned as he turned back to her confused. 'What the heck was that for?'

'How long have you been home' Y/N asked, ignoring him.

'Um, like, a month? I don't really know-'

'And you didn't call me? Let me know you were okay?'

'I was kind of busy consoling my family since I've been gone for like six years,' he argued, rubbing his cheek. 'And you seemed to be busy too. You know, saving the world and all.'

Y/N couldn't argue with that, but she still wanted to be mad at him. He had her all worried for nothing. 'You still could've called me.'

'I'm here now, aren't I?' He reached a hand out to clasp hers and she allowed him to puller her closer with it. 'Trust me, there wasn't a day that I didn't think of you, wishing I was back here with you. I'm sorry if I made you worry.'

His genuine tone softened her anger until it was nothing but relief and joy at seeing him. She pressed her forehead against his own and smiled. 'Like you said: you're here now, right?'

With that, the two connected in a long awaited kiss that reflected all their longing and love for one another. They were so enthralled with one another that they didn't hear a word of Charles' and Hank's conversation happening just a few steps away.

'Wow,' Hank said, trying not look at his long-time friends making out in front of him. 'Alex and Y/N. Not going to lie, did not see that coming.'

'Oh, I did,' Charles said smugly, though his eyes reflected the happiness he had for his close friends. 'From the moment they met, I knew they were inevitable. You didn't need to be a psychic to see that coming.'

1978 - Alex and Y/N's house

Y/N sighed as she unlocked the front door to her and Alex's house. They'd moved in together about a year ago, hating constantly going between the school and Alex's old apartment. He hadn't returned as a teacher to the school after the army as she had, and so found a place of his own. But one night they'd both realised they didn't want to keep figuring out whose place they would spend the night at. They wanted a place for themselves, and the rest was history.

Y/N kicked off her sneakers, grateful for the relief she felt as she walked into the lounge room where her feet sunk into the carpet. Alex seemed to have had an early mark from his office with the U.S. Military, as he was in the kitchen cooking. His soldier days were thankfully over, but he'd been promoted to a desk job which didn't really suit him but it paid well and he could actually try and make a difference from there. For both humans and mutants enlisted into the army.

'Hey, princess,' he said, stirring up some sauce that had Y/N almost drooling for.

'Hey, baby,' she said tiredly as she came up behind him and cuddled him, breathing out a content sigh as she attempted to meld into his back.

'Wow,' he said with a chuckle, 'no asshole today? You've definitely had a bad day.'

'Don't push it,' Y/N warned, but it was an empty threat as she didn't move a muscle. Alex was always so warm, and now that it was winter she craved his presence even more. 'You didn't have to make dinner.'

'I know,' he said nonchalantly, continuing to stir the delicious smelling sauce. 'But I figured if you weren't home by five, you'd had a hard day.'

'Aw,' Y/N cooed, squeezing his torso slightly tighter. 'Alex Summers, you can be so thoughtful, you know that?'

'Besides,' he said, finally putting the sauce bowl down and turning in Y/N's arms to face her, a cheeky smile on his lips, 'you take forever to cook and I want to eat at some point tonight.'

Y/N's smile dropped. 'I take it back. You are a jerk.'

'That's nothing new,' he said as he pulled her in for a loving kiss. Y/N really enjoyed their more fervent kisses - the ones that left her breathless and hungry for more because she just couldn't get enough of him. But this - the gentleness, the care, the love transferred between their lips - calmed and grounded her. Reminded her she was at the best place in the world: home.

'Why don't you go have a shower, relax, and I'll have dinner ready by the time you come out?' Alex asked after they ended their kiss, rubbing his hands up and down her arms in comfort.

Y/N shook her head. 'While that does sound like a wonderful time, I'd rather help you cook the rest of dinner.'

'You sure? It's nothing special or hard. I can handle it-'

'Alex,' she interrupted, heading for the drawer with all their aprons, 'I have spent all day at a desk or in a classroom looking at paperwork and marking grades. I want to help. I want to spend time with you. It's treat enough that you're home before the sun sets.'

She tied her apron up, rolled up the sleeves of her dress shirt and reached into the pantry 'Now, let's get this pasta cooking.'

The rest of the night was relaxed, with Alex and Y/N chatting about anything and everything while they cooked. They continued chatting during dinner, and Y/N laughed at Alex spilling red pasta sauce all over his cream shirt. Before they knew it, bed time had fallen upon them.

Y/N was just brushing her teeth as she was explaining how her day was going to go tomorrow. 'Now remember, I'm going on an excursion with the kids tomorrow to the national history museum so I won't be home until six, I think.'

When Alex didn't answer, Y/N asked, 'Alex? Did you hear me?' He didn't answer again, and so Y/N spit out the toothpaste and hurried back into their bedroom.

'Alex? Why aren't you-'

Y/N's heart almost stopped as she was met with Alex Summers on one knee, holding a delicate but beautiful ring up to Y/N.

'Believe me when I say I had a different plan in mind for this,' he said, eyes hopeful and the twitches of a fearful smile pulling at his lips. 'I had it all planned out and was going to do it when we go on our trip next month. But those places don't mean anything to us: here does. In our home.'

To Y/N's surprise, Alex's eyes welled up with tears as he continued his speech. 'Tonight was perfect, and I realised... that I want to have a night like tonight every night. You are too good for me, Y/N. I can be a jerk and an asshole and self-centred and rash - but you take it all in stride and put me in my place and I thank you for that.

'I love you, Y/N. And I want to love you - fight with and for you, explore with you, live with you - for the rest of my life. So, Y/N L/N... will you marry me?'

Alex never cried, so seeing him get emotional opened the floodgates in Y/N's own tear ducts. Y/N clasped her mouth as both sobs and joyous laughter escaped her, leaving her a blubbering mess.

Y/N wiped away her tears and flashed Alex the most loving smile she could manage. 'What do you think? Of course I will marry you, Alex Summers.'

Alex breathed a sigh of relief and his tears of joy finally fell as he stood up and embraced Y/N. Y/N couldn't hold him any tighter it seemed, couldn't pull him close enough even when there was no space left to close between them. But finally they parted and Alex slipped the delicate ring onto Y/N's finger. It shimmered in the low lamp light coming from their bedside and Y/N couldn't imagine anything more fitting.

'It's beautiful, Alex,' Y/N said, still sniffling.

'Anything for my princess,' he muttered into her hair as he held her close.

Y/N laughed into his chest before craning her neck back to look up at him. 'You're locked in now, asshole. No take-backsies.'

Alex laughed. 'Don't you know?' he asked, leaning down to capture her lips in another loving kiss. '...I was always in it for the long run,' he said after breaking away, warm breath fanning across Y/N's cool skin.

1983 - X Mansion

Y/N was just leaving her classroom when four students came flying by.

'Hey!' Y/N called out, and the four students stopped.

'Sorry, Mrs. Summers,' Jubilee said, a bashful expression on her face.

Y/N eyed who else was with Jubilee. Jean Grey, and the two new students: Kurt Wagner and her brother-in-law Scott Summers.

Y/N placed her free hand on her hips as she looked at them skeptically. 'And where are the four of you off to in such a hurry at this time of day?' she asked, noting how it was the middle of the day.

'Uh...' Jean started, looking unsure.

'We were just off to the library,' Scott interjected, his voice confident and full of bravado. 'To study.'

Y/N narrowed her eyes on Scott. Scott was not the studious kind, and usually she could read Scott like a book. But since his mutation kicked in and he'd had to wear the ruby quartz glasses, it was hard to tell what he was truly thinking.

'That's right!' Kurt added over-enthusiastically, and the others nodded in agreement.

Based on their adamant responses, Y/N knew something was up. But she released a sigh and waved them off. 'Okay, but don't study too hard then.'

'Yes, Mrs. Summers,' Jean and Jubilee said together, then grabbed Kurt and headed around the corner and out of sight.

Scott was just about to do the same when Y/N called out to him. 'Hey, Scott.' He stopped and turned, his lips pulled down in a frown, possibly worried that he'd been caught out. But she just smiled and said, 'It's nice to see you've made some friends already.'

Relief and genuine appreciation split his lips into a smile. 'Yeah. Me too,' he said, then he took off after the others, their laughter bouncing off the walls of the old mansion.

It genuinely made Y/N happy to see Scott making friends. He was usually the reserved type, making small rebellions but certainly not as loud as his older brother. He used to be the kid that got picked on at school, so to see him actively engaging with other kids was promising.

It was the changing period between classes and so all the students were milling about the halls as Y/N made her way down the steps to the front foyer. She had a free period so she was in no hurry.

What she didn't expect to see, once the children had cleared, was Hank and Raven of all people standing together in the foyer.

'Raven?' Y/N said in disbelief, a baffled smile adorning her lips.

Raven and Hank seemed to have been engaged in a serious discussion, but she returned Y/N's smile and opened her arms for an embrace. 'Hey, Y/N.'

Y/N accepted the offer and embraced her long-time friend tightly. 'Oh, it is so good to see you, Raven. It has been too long.'

'Yeah, since seventy-three I believe.' The two women pulled apart but held hands. Raven ran her fingers over Y/N's hands and her fqace changed to shock and happy surprise. 'Oh my God, you got married?!' she exclaimed, bringing Y/N's left hand up to inspect the delicate diamond.

'Yeah. Alex and I just celebrated five years,' Y/N said, her words taking on a sad tone.

'Five years...' Raven dropped Y/N's hand, a sad expression on her face. It was then Y/N recognised that Raven was in the skin she'd worn for years to fit in with society, not her natural blue. There was slight betrayal and hurt on Raven's face too.

'We tried finding you, Raven,' Y/N said, grasping tight to her friend's hands. 'I wanted you there. Truly. You just... Well, since D.C. I imagine you've been busy.'

Raven's betrayal morphed into shame. 'I'm sorry,' she said. 'I would've loved to have been there. For you.'

Y/N knew she meant it, and so she flashed Raven a smile and said, 'It doesn't matter now, though. You're here now, and it is so good to see you. Speaking of which, why are you here?'

'I came to speak with Charles about Erik,' Raven admitted, the two women finally releasing each other's hands. 'I think he's in some trouble.'

'I was just telling her Charles and Alex were out,' Hank added.

'Well, they should be back in the next hour, I think,' Y/N said. 'Why don't we wait in Charles' office until then.'

As they all waited, Y/N and Raven decided to catch up. They discussed everything from the school to Raven's personal missions as a vigilante for mutants to Y/N and Alex's marriage.

'I must admit, I always knew you two would end up together,' Raven commented, a knowing and cheeky smile on her face.

'No you didn't,' Y/N argued. 'Did you even know Alex and I back then? We fought like cats and dogs!'

'Still do, depending on the day,' Hank muttered as he drank his tea.

Y/N flashed him a hard glare before turning back to Raven.

'Oh come on, it was practically inevitable you two would end up together,' Raven countered, laughter dancing on her words. 'But I'm happy to hear you two are happy. You're some of my oldest friends and you deserve happiness.'

'Thank you, Raven,' Y/N said softly.

'So, how many do you have?'

Y/N raised an eyebrow in confusion. 'How many what?'

'Kids. I can only assume you've got an army waiting for you at home...' Raven quietened as she noticed Y/N's demeanour change. Her smile dropped and she sunk back into the couch more. 'Did I say something wrong?'

Y/N shook her head and tried smiling for her friend, but tears welled in her eyes. 'No, you didn't. It's just... Alex and I found out we can't have children about a month ago.'

'Oh, Y/N.' Raven didn't know what to say or do. She just reached a hand out was a grateful that Y/N took it for support.

'We've been trying since we got married,' Y/N explained, wiping the tears away before they even fell. 'When nothing was happening, we decided to go see a specialist. But I guess even being a mutant doesn't make us immune to human genetic failure.'

She gestured to the closed doors that led from Charles' office to the school beyond 'Besides,' Y/N continued fondly, 'I have hundreds of kids already to deal with,. Children of my own would just complicate that probably.'

Raven just hummed in agreement, but said nothing more. No doubt she could sense or even see Y/N only meant half of what she said. Y/N truly loved each and every kid at the school, but it broke her heart to know she'd never have a daughter or son that had her eyes or Alex's smile, her wit or Alex's bravery.

Before they could dwell on the sad matter any further, the doors to the office opened and in came Charles, Alex, and someone Y/N thought she'd never see ever again.

'Moira?' Raven said as the three entered the room, standing to her feet in shock.

'Raven?' Charles asked.

'I'm sorry, have we met before?" Moira asked, cluelessly smiling at Raven, then Y/N and Hank.

Soon enough, Raven and Charles needed to converse privately and so Y/N, Alex, Hank, and Moira stood in the foyer awaiting their decision. Hank took one for the team and took Moira for a bit of a tour around the school while Y/N and Alex stayed in the foyer to talk.

'Never thought I'd see you step inside these halls during school hours again,' Y/N said cheekily.

'My brother and Charles are the exceptions,' he said, and when Y/N pouted he added quickly, 'and of course my beautiful wife.'

'Hmmm, sure asshole,' she said, before allowing him to kiss her briefly.

'You know you can be so mean sometimes,' he said as he pulled away.

'That's why you love me though, right?' she asked.

'Hmmm, sure princess,' he mirrored her earlier comment, earning a light slap to his shoulder as they devolved into laughter.

'So, how's Scott doing?' Alex asked, genuinely concerned for his little brother.

'Don't worry,' Y/N reassured him. 'He's fitting in just fine. Although he said he was going to study just before...'

'Oh, he's definitely doing something he shouldn't be then,' Alex said.

After a moment of silence, Y/N said, 'I was talking to Raven just before... about us not being able to have children.'

The topic always made Alex more protective, and so he placed his hands on her arms and started gently rubbing them up and down slowly. 'You okay?'

'Yeah I'm fine, but it did get me thinking... why don't we look at adopting?'

Alex looked halfway between shocked and happy when she said it. 'Are you sure?'

Y/N nodded. 'Why not? There are so many kids in this world that have no homes, no families. We could be that for them.'

Alex smiled brighter than he ever had as he embraced her so hard he lifted her off her feet with joy. 'I love you,' he said as he finally put her down, then looked at her as if she was the light of his life. 'We're gonna have a family.'

Y/N nodded then pulled him into a short kiss, just as Hank and Moira finally came back to the foyer and Charles' office doors opened. 'Y/N and Hank, you are dismissed from classes for the rest of the afternoon,' he said. 'We have to find Erik.'

~~~

It all happened so fast.

Someone hijacked Cerebro and controlled Charles momentarily, taking over the world for just a split second. Raven, Hank, and Y/N were finally able to wrench Charles free of the power and then Charles commanded Alex to destroy Cerebro.

The incident left the whole group, except for Moira, panting and drained as they exited the flaming room. Charles was unconscious in his chair, giving no signs that he was okay.

Y/N sensed a change in the area's energy force, and looked down the hallway to where a portal was opening. 'Uh, guys...'

The rest of the group followed her gaze to where five figures stepped out of the portal, one notably being an old friend.

'Erik,' Raven said softly, realisation dawning on her face too late. He was not here to be friendly.

Before anyone could react, Erik reached out to Charles' chair and brought him in to their portal which was firing up again.

'Charles!' Raven called out.

The winged figure protected Charles as the others stepped in front of him as barriers. Not that any of Y/N's group chased after them - wait, one person did.

'Alex, no!' Y/N said as her husband ran past her. When he didn't listen, she chased after him.

'Alex!' Hank called out behind them.

'Hey, asshole!' Alex called out to the blue man standing out the front of Erik's group.

The portal reopened around Erik, Charles and the other figures, the blue man stepping out in front to say, 'All will be revealed my child.' His voice was haunting, echoing all around them in a way that emanated power. He was not a standard level mutant.

But Alex still ran, and Y/n sensed he was charging up to fight.

'Alex, don't!' Y/N was almost there, could reach him in another few steps.

'Wait!' Hank called out, but Alex was lining up, red plasma already bursting from his chest. 'Stop!'

Y/N finally realised Hank's fear. While she was trying to stop Alex from chasing after mutant much stronger than all in the room, Hank was more concerned as to what was just beyond the doors Erik and Charles stood before.

Y/N's fingers just grazed Alex's shoulder when he let out a powerful plasma blast. But Erik and Charles disappeared into the portal before the blast could reach them, instead allowing it to burn through the metal doors that lead into the jet hangar.

Y/N pulled Alex behind her as the explosion happened. She threw up her hands and conjured a force field that surrounded the entire hangar just as the fire was about to reach her face. The strain was immediate as well as the heat, and Y/N almost crumbled as the explosion bounced and rolled around in the bubble.

'Y/N!' Raven called out, and Y/N felt hands on her arm and shoulder as Alex came into view.

'Baby?' he asked, eyes apologetic and frightened.

'I'm okay,' Y/N managed out, breathing deeply as the strain increased. 'Get everyone out. Now.'

'We can't just leave you here,' Hank argued.

'We won't,' Alex answered. 'I'll stay with her. Let me know when everyone is out.' When Raven and Hank didn't move, Alex said, 'Go!'

Once they'd gone, Y/N said, albeit with a strain, 'You should go, too.'

'I'm not leaving you,' he said, the weight of his hand on her back ever present. 'Hank and Raven can get the kids out themselves.'

'I'm not just talking about the kids.' Y/N managed to tear her gaze from the swirling explosion just beyond her force field to look Alex in the eyes. 'Go find Scott. Make sure he's okay.'

'I trust Hank and Raven,' Alex said.

Y/N's hands shook and so she turned her attention back to the force field. 'Alex, I don't know how much longer I can hold this. And I'd rather you not be here in case-'

'Don't say that.' Alex moved more into her vision so she didn't have to break her concentration. 'I put you in this mess, I will see you through it. You're the toughest person I know, Y/N. If anyone can hold this, it's you.'

Y/N saw on his face he truly meant it, but her hands shook harder now and the fire was pushing against the field more. Y/N swallowed a groan because as much as she didn't agree with Alex, she had to try.

Every second counted.

But every second was torture.

In reality, it was only five minutes before Hank notified Alex that the school had been cleared. But Y/N's vision was starting to spot black and her entire body now shook. Sweat rolled down her face and exhausted tears threatened to spill over.

Alex's phone buzzed and he answered the incoming call. 'The kids are all out,' Hank said, his crackling due to the horrible service of the lower levels. 'We're coming back for you.'

'Don't!' Y/N strangled out, groaning as the strain increased. She was aware of Alex's gaze on her so she turned slightly to look him in the eyes and saw something that she didn't want to see.

Hank kept talking. 'What? No, we're coming back down-'

'It's okay, Hank,' Alex said calmly, his eyes never leaving Y/N. 'Just... keep them safe.'

'Alex, wait what-'

Alex ended the call and Y/N could've screamed with frustration. 'No,' she whispered. 'You're not staying with me.'

'You never planned on getting out of this alive,' Alex stated. 'Did you?'

'I've made my peace,' Y/N explained. 'You need to be here for Scott.'

'You are my wife, Y/N!'

'And he is your brother!' Tears finally spilled as her powers began to wain. 'He is young and scared and he needs his brother so please Alex, go!'

Pain and indecision whirled in Alex's eyes as he looked from her to the doors that would save his life. Y/N couldn't hold on much longer, but she'd make sure he would get out. Tears spilled down his gorgeous face. Even after all this time he still looked as he had when him and Y/N first met, apart from the hair of course.

Resolve and love and apology was on his face as he finally looked back to Y/N, and he said, 'Scott will understand.'

He was really doing this. He was really going to die with her.

'I can't protect us once I let this field down,' she strangled to say, tears and pain and regret threatening to overwhelm her. 'I have nothing left, Alex.'

'You've done enough,' he said gently, then manouvered himself to stand between her arms so he was face to face with her. He cradled her face in his hands then pulled his lips to hers for one final kiss. 'I'm sorry,' he whispered, tears streaming down his face.

'I'm not,' Y/N replied, and despite their situation she smiled as brightly as she could. 'We had a pretty good run, didn't we?'

That finally brought a smile to his face. 'We sure did, princess.' He looked into her eyes, his gaze unwavering and the way he held her was heavenly. 'I love you.'

'I love you,' Y/N answered, then her energy emptied completely and she fell into Alex's arms.

They held each other as fire engulfed them and the mansion exploded, unable to be torn from each other even at Death's door.

1983 - X Mansion, post Apocalypse Battle

Scott Summers stood before two headstones with X's on them that had been put up in the school's courtyard. Both had his last name.

Alex Summers

Havok

1941-1983

Husband, Brother, Friend, Hero

Y/N Summers (neé L/N)

Aura

1942-1983

Wife, Teacher, Friend, Hero

Scott took his glasses off to wipe his tears. He hadn't been able to fully process his loss thanks to Apocalypse, but now that the school was rebuilt and he was back at school, he was more than aware of Alex and Y/N's absence.

He felt a hand slip into his, and he put his glasses back on to find Jean smiling sadly at him. 'I'm so sorry, Scott,' she said, and he didn't need to be a mind reader to know she truly meant it. 'I never met your brother, but Aura - Y/N, spoke often of him and their heroics at our age. He sounded amazing.'

'He was,' Scott said, looking back to his brother's and sister-in-law's graves. 'He was my hero.'

'They both were heroes.'

The two teens turned to find Hank, Raven, and Charles - now bald from the battle - strolling and wheeling into the courtyard respectively. Charles didn't speak again until the three of them reached the teenagers. 'Even as children, I knew they would be heroes. And in a society where mutants weren't trusted, even feared... They saw the best in the world. Always.'

'They gave everything they could to this school,' Hank added, eyes watering behind his glasses as he looked over his friends' graves. 'They were some of the best people I know, even now.' Hank allowed a tear to fall but he laughed. 'Even if your brother was a bit of a dick, sometimes.'

'Only sometimes?' Scott said, and the group laughed and the weight of grief on Scott's shoulders lifted slightly.

When it grew silent once more, Jean said, 'But is this to be our fate? Where we fight for a world that doesn't want us? Is a premature death only inevitable?'

'Death is always inevitable, Jean,' Raven said gently, and walked up to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder. 'But if Alex and Y/N proved anything to us all is that it doesn't matter what time we have on this earth; it's what we make of it. While we can, we will fight for a better future. For all of us.'

Jean nodded then turned back to the graves along with everyone else. Resentment and pain and loss roiled within Scott as he looked down at where his brother and sister-in-law rested. 'I wished he hadn't died,' he admitted, because that's all he truly wanted.

'Me too, Scott,' Charles said, wheeling up beside him. 'He loved you very much, though. Always spoke about you - about how you were to do great things with your life. I truly believe that, you know.'

'At least he died doing what he loved,' Scott said as he gestured to the rebuilt school. 'Protecting mutant kind.'

The group was silent for another few minutes, just reflecting on their times with the two people in the ground. Then Hank ushered the two teens back to class, and after sometime Raven left to go teach also.

Charles remained for a while longer, unable to leave his friends that he'd buried, that he'd gotten killed. Some small part of him wished he'd never sought them out to join the X-Men. They could've lived quieter lives, safer lives. But we wouldn't have been happy, Charles could practically hear Y/N say with that hopeful smile of hers, and Charles smiled at the thought.

And besides, if he hadn't recruited the two, Alex and Y/N wouldn't have met. And wouldn't that have been a true disservice to his students to never have witnessed such hope and love.

Or maybe they would have. After all, like he'd said, they'd been inevitable from the start.

And maybe Jean was right; possibly, a mutant's life was to inevitably end prematurely. But Raven was also right.

Charles touched Alex's headstone, then Y/N's, tears pouring down his face. 'Thank you, friends,' he whispered tearfully. 'Rest well. You've earned it.'

As the years went on, and the school took on more students and the gardens grew higher and wilder, Charles sought to personally keep his friends' graves clean and tidy. He told each student the tales of his fallen friends, the ones he was unable to bury as well. He made sure that the First Class of X-Men were not forgotten, and that their dream of a better future lived on in the next generation.

Sometimes, as he grew older, Charles saw a little bit of Alex and Y/N when he saw Scott and Jean. It broke his heart to know that Alex would never see his little brother become an excellent hero such as Alex, or that Alex and Y/N wouldn't grow old alongside him and Hank and Raven.

But their spirit lived on anyway, and maybe that was the inevitability of it all in the end.

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Masters of the Air Fanfic

As requested by sweet @arianatheangel-girl and the subsequent poll for a “Buck Cleven Fic before the series comes out” -and I, being a madwoman with no impulse control and a faint recollection of the book, have delivered…this…whatever this is

Song Challenge: i was challenged by dear @the-ugly-swan for a twenty favored songs challenge and I’m gonna go ahead and make this part of it. August by Taylor Swift informed some of the bittersweet timeline here, with infidelity not being the enemy but rather the lack of possessing oneself fully during wartime to give to another

Spoilers: historical accuracy and inaccuracy abound here so, beware there are some biographical facts about Cleven in here that might count as spoilers to those who wish to watch the series with a blank slate. While to the history purists I must beg for a substantial amount of artistic license to be granted me, and obviously I’ve not seen the show yet and I crunched the timeline to my own will

Reader insert but without the use of “y/n” -I’m utterly fudging a bit on the likelihood of a WAAF lady being part of the American ground crew, however, I had in my minds eye the vision of a greasy mechanic and a glamorous flyboy and it wouldn’t budge, so shhh, go with the vibe

Warnings: mature, 18+. Fluffy smut was requested and while it is very brief and mild in here, not very explicit in phrasing, it’s quite present and a plot point so beware. Also, Virgin!Gale has my heart so we went with that. No shade to dear Marjorie irl, I’ll probably end up writing fics about her once the show gives me Inspo. Some angst due to war, POW’s, etc, mild language

Word count: a monstrous 12k

They came in like locusts at the height of summer, long prayed for, oft cursed in moments of perilous isolation, those ever so intriguingly shiny Americans.

Swarming with a metal buzz over the flatlands of East Anglia, big hulking beasts touched down on fresh tarmacs with more grace than anything that size ought to have, flashing the most bizarre and suggestive paintings on their gleaming fuselages. Flying Fortresses, they were called, and deserved the name. Nothing but the biggest, the loudest, the most alarming machinery would do for the American war effort, and now all this mighty strength was Britain’s too, no longer alone, no longer enduring.

Now the fight could be taken to the enemy in earnest. Out of their flying ships poured the most alarmingly young looking faces, jaunty hats and leather jackets, they looked every bit the sort of fellows war was advertised to.

Farmers in their tractors, mothers with daughters still under their command and RAF veterans all looked askance at such pristine warriors. Had their fertile fields been paved into airfields just for this? Were these gum chewing boys the long expected aid? It wasn’t anti-climactic, nothing American could ever be, it was all just alarmingly fresh. It was understandable then, the initial tentativeness the locals felt towards their new occupants, the way the boys took up such space in the rural villages, made such a racket in the pubs, chased every skirt that swished in the rainy summer breeze, stuck hands out for a shake no matter the introduction. They were a warm, boisterous and confident lot, all much needed attributes in wartime Britain, and soon, the initial distrust of the citizenry thawed, hands were shaken in return and invitations made. An amiable amalgamation eventually occurred, Norfolk never to recover or return to whatever placidity had been her’s before the arrival of the 100th.

Personally, you couldn’t wait to get your hands on them. The planes, that is.

Amalgamation was less a choice for yourself and your service members than a duty. It was abnormal, having a mixed ground crew, British and American servicemen too often clashing in hierarchy disputes for it to be standard, but with deployment rates so high and casualties mounting, ground crew became a case of whichever skilled individuals could be called upon to keep the operation running, the pilots up and the enemy bombed.

You were just glad to be near home, first time back since ‘39 when you’d signed up in the Women's Auxiliary Air Force -even if your rural hometown was now overrun with Americans. They weren’t a bad lot at all, at least not the ones you’d encountered so far on base. Amiable and unexpectedly eager, undeterred by veterans’ grim looks and tales of the woodchipper across the channel, that line of anti-aircraft that shredded anything trying to penetrate the continent.

“Better get crackin’ then.” Was the common response followed by a grin.

Your crew chief sergeant, Ken Lemmons, an American with a forelock of sandy ringlets and the patience of a saint, made the job easier even as every ounce of expertise was exacted from each man -or woman- under him. Feeding a fiery chain of bullets into the turret gun under a hot July sun, you thought your papa may have had the right of it when he tried to dissuade you from choosing the harsher duties of the Auxiliary Force. You could’ve been pouring over a map in the cool of the boardroom right now, or passing on radio messages, even shuttling planes would’ve been more relaxing, but no, you’d spent your life passing him tools in his garage, your papa had been building flying machines when most for these boys were still in diapers, and that path called to you, too. So for you it was grueling maintenance work and the ever present grime of grease on your hands and the awkward reach of twisted metal repairs. Gratefully, after their first mission, there were plenty of them back safe, however riddled their fortresses might’ve been.

It was interesting, the way certain of the flight crew treated the ships. Some were endeared but indifferent to their repairs while others hovered at each hole and tear, like over protective mothers, while you and your mates tried to do your jobs.

Why, one plane in the five assigned to your care was even named “Our Baby”. With such a moniker it made sense that its porcelain faced pilot would caress the shredded wing with a misty eyed frown at each wound, like it were a breathing thing, a race horse, a friend. You didn’t judge it, and he didn’t seem aware of his audience, he’d be back out there doing his own check up after debriefing. Never interrupting your work, always quick to step aside or duck out of the way of a ground crewman’s path, it wasn’t time to chatter or make introductions, although sometimes when the work took long and his reports longer, he’d be there to bid goodnight to you all, soft, American drawl saying “Goodnight, thank ya, goodnight, good work, thank ya” again and again to each.

You grew to recognize them, the ones each mission spared, there were so many and under hats and bundled in leather jackets they tended to blend together, but there were those who made their mark, if not on you then on Dorace in cartography and Eileen at the Red Cross. There was much tittering and speculation, after all, spread thin as their time was, there was also plenty of off time, made all the more charged and anxious as it came in the form of waiting for new orders. The men would be vibrating with nervous energy and generous in the flush of a recent victory and they took it out on the little villagers who in good British fashion took it on the chin and challenged them to a contest of good spirits.

Those were happy days, less anxious than the preceding ones and less heavy than those making up the year after. You dared be roped into the multiple pub crawls, often choosing the most sensible and quiet of the group as your victim and attaching yourself to their side for the evening. This tactic had its fallibility, sometimes those moderates were such a bore as to be unsupportable or hadn’t enough verve to make a full night of it and retired early like respectable, curfew-abiding saps. That’s how you found yourself one night ensconced in a beer pungent corner of Flaggen’s, green leather seats sticky under your palms, with Major Egan fanning out a wad of cash in front of you. It was a blatant attempt to bribe you to clear his aircraft sooner than the last inspection suggested.

“Suggestions” was Egan’s term for regulations.

If you were less tipsy you wouldn’t have giggled at the man’s idiocy, but his arm was heavy around your shoulders and this very cash had bought you one too many gin and tonics. “These regulations keep you alive!” You chided him, shaking your head and feeling the room tip as you did. Truly these Americans could hold their liquor, almost as well as the Polish Squadron when it came to a binge.

“A little flack isn’t gonna keep her down.” he scoffed, “I’ve been grounded for a week now-“

“-I don’t have the authority-“

“-and I’m not gonna sit here while Buck goes up and racks up his number!” Eagen was vehemently slurring and your drunken mind tried to process who Buck was, if not Egan himself.

“Aren’t you Bucky?” you asked, bewildered.

-Americans and their nicknames.

“Yeah.”

“So who’s Buck?” you concentrated very hard on the ancient coaster beneath your latest pint.

“It’s Buck! It’s Gale, Cleven, Major Gale Cleven!” Egan waxed louder and more dramatic with each addition. “You keep clearing his plane! But not mine! Why’s that, huh?”

“How do you know that?” you asked, dubious and only in the raucous of this little pub would his loud voice go unheeded. Compared to the ongoing dart game to the left behind the half wall, an elephant’s trumpeting would be considered bashful.

“ ‘Cause he tells me?” he replied, bewildered at your slowness, “Says you and your crew are little fairies, crawlin’ all over his plane and patching it up better than ever after each mission. And then you clear him. Simple as that.”

“I don’t have authority to clear anyone.” you repeated.

“Huh,” Egan grunted, “how’does he mean then?”

“I don’t know.” you replied firmly, “I doubt I’ve even got your plane, i don’t see you around.”

“I don’t stay around, that’s your job, patching up. I just fly the damn thing.”

“Oh, well.” you shrugged, “I’ve had five, it’s down to three after last mission.” Three years ago the mention of that ratio of losses would’ve sank your mood to the floorboards, by now it’s horrifically routine. “What’s yours called?”

“Mugwump.” he grinned proudly, a flash of white beneath his dark mustache, the man’s face positively shimmered with sweat.

“Serial?” you asked demurely, just to be difficult.

He squinted his eyes shut briefly, head tilted back as if to ask the heavens for help and the recited in a drill master’s staccato “42-30066, ma’am, yes ma’am.”

You giggled again and Egan’s arm jostled your shoulders, smushing you further into him. They were good fun, these boys, didn’t even mind your horrifyingly unflattering uniform with its bulging pockets adding bulk where your curves should take center stage and your stupid pleated cap making you look to be half baker, half doll. You preferred your plain navy coveralls but you’d hardly be let into an establishment in them. Egan’s warm arm didn’t seem to mind the excess poof of the material, he smashed it right down with his hand’s firm grip, he was fun, you decided, no harm in good fun. “Alas, not one of mine.” you sighed, focusing hard on the serial number.

“Damn.” he swore, playing at dejection.

“No,” you went on, “but I’ve got this one, a very spoiled one, maybe you know whose it is. They named it ‘Our Baby’!”

Poor manners and personnel etiquette though it was, you couldn’t say it without tittering.

Egan didn’t laugh, he just looked at you like you’d proved his point. “Yeah,” he replied vehemently, “That’s Buck Cleven’s!”

“Oooh.” -So it was him, the fighting cherub, the walking doughboy, toothpick, baby at wings: there were a dozen or more nicknames you and the ground crew gave the wing-petting Major behind his back. “He always says goodnight to us.” you said instead.

“Is that where he is when I wanna go for a drink?” Egan exclaimed, “Ha! You’d think he was married to the ole ship.”

“He handles her beautifully.” You feel oddly compelled to defend, he’s a master at flight and as someone who must repair each fault of his landings and his leavings and his missions, you feel some loyalty to his finesse. “He handles her so well.” you repeat in the tone of a woman who’s seen some aviation in her time, young though you may be.

“Well let me let you into a lil secret,” Egan smirks and you brace without knowing why, he is, after all, not the respectable and dull men you choose to go out with, he is the dangerous sort you bring those dullards along to deter, “shes the only ‘she’ that boy has ever ‘handled’ -if ya get my drift.”

The sleazy wag of his eyebrows leaves no room for ignorance, you feel your face heat up, wether in prudery for the topic or second hand embarrassment for his friend’s sake, you don’t know.

“Nothing wrong with that.” you reply coldy, only to distance yourself from the road his body language seemed to be hurtling you both down.

“Quite right. Nothin’ at all!” Egan agrees vehemently, his smile easy and his eyes clever “But I’d be a poor friend if I didn't try to remedy his predicament.”

“Telling me is somehow part of this remedy?” you were suspicious, rightfully so.

“Maybe.” Egan drawls it out, shifting in his seat to no longer corner you, his attention drawn to the nearby dart game. The man of the moment, the subject, the handler of planes and none else, was not here. He had such a luminous head of golden hair, it would be a beacon amongst the muddy haired crowd flinging darts. “The thing of it is, dear,” Egan confided, “I've had an absolutely marvelous time since I got here. And I think that’s rather essential, for sanity and for international relations, don’t you? I’ve gotten to know all sorts of wonderful people, lovely people like yourself-“

“-word is, you’ve known them a little too biblically, no wonder Cleven avoids your outings.” You could not help but temper him. “Half of Great Britain has had the privilege, if some are to be believed.”

“And so what if I have? I love dancin’!” he laughed quite happily at your barb and you didn’t have it in you to pull down any further a man who was sacrificing so much day in and out. “Getting to know Great Britain is a better occupation than pettin’ plane wings under the moonlight.”

You tittered again at his words and the oddly endearing memories you had of watching Major Ceven petting and whispering to his plane like she was his long-standing beloved, loitering ground crew unheeded. “He does do that.” you agreed.

“Hey, everyone’s got their method.” Egan insisted in his friend’s defense, “But I have told him, it’s good for the morale to mingle, even if he hates drinkin’.“

You pucker your face at that. “I know he mingles, Violet says he’s a doll when he goes to market.” you point out, small town chatter gets around and while you can’t say you know Cleven, you know he’s mild mannered and precious. And a terribly pretty face too, which isn’t fair, he oughta be an ass which a face that cute. “And he got a tan from somewhere last week.“

“Oh, so ya noticed!” Egan is triumphant, “A bunch of us used our day passes to go messin’ around in boats on the canals.”

“Good for you.” you didn’t know what else to say. “Why are we talking about him? What’s your point? I can ask for your plane to be transferred to my crew, but it won’t get you a sloppy clearance. And if your friend is so socially awkward he can’t even manage a pub night, you can hardly expect me to be flattered that you consider me prime material to throw at him.”

“He’s not awkward.” Egan cut to the chase quite serious, in mission mode, “Buck just had his hopes tangled up back home, and now he’s here he’s finding it hard to accept that hopes were all they were. She’s real moved on.” Well that had hurt, you winced in sympathy. “I warned him, everything during this war has got to be taken as a bit inpermanent. Don’t fall in love with Texas girls when you’re headed to England -via: Louisiana, Indiana, hell, by New York she’d stopped writing.”

“And now the texas girl has-“

“-found a Texan, I guess.” He shrugged and chugged the last of his pint. “She’s gettin’ married, it's really over. So, -“ he made a broad gesture as if to explain his reasoning for this entire segue. “-you like projects, you wouldn’t be in the line of work you’re in if ya didn’t, so whaddya say?”

You looked around the dimly lit pub in search of two things, sunny blonde hair and a clock to tell you how badly you were going to regret this night, come morning. “He’s not even here.” you balked.

“Well, no-“

“-what I say is,” you grinned at him disbelieving, “you owe me another gin and tonic for subjecting me to such inane chatter.”

His grin should have served as warning enough that he would neither drop the subject nor let you off free this evening. In fact, the ticking clock and its late curfew breaking hours became the least of your concerns come morning. The cool wash of bitter juniper blended into the pungent flow of beer, it blurred everything, soon there was a great swelling of pride for your native village, a pub crawl was on, all three visited and drank from, an army Jeep was requisitioned without authority, there was some incident regarding a policeman‘s helmet. The latter being the reason why you found yourself in “jail” the next morning, nursing a raging headache and questioning life decisions while glaring at John Egan’s polished boots.

There was very little talk about bail or Air Force hours being exceptioned, the more pressing concern to the Bobbies who had nabbed you was the coed holding cell. Thorpe Abbotts was a small place, after all, and you liked it that way. If this overly indulgent night could be kept away from the military police, all would be well.

You had one hope: Harry Crosby was sensibly absent from the holding cell, having a keen sense of when to depart from the raucous joyride at the precise moment to save himself a demerit. It was an extreme embarrassment to you that you’d not had the same sense. In fact, fond as you were of a bit of a knees up, you couldn’t quite credit the fact you had allowed yourself such free reign, or accomplished such foolishness. Glowering at Major Egan’s face now, animated with delighted chagrin at your shared plight as it was, you vowed to never again hook your fortunes to his, as it were.

Your resolve, and humiliation, was about to be compounded, exponentially.

There was a bustle of a visitor entering the precinct, easily heard in the small space, followed by the low hum of mild mannered conversation. It went on for sometime, and no amount of straining at the bars and cocking of ears would allow you, Egan or your fellow misfortunates to ascertain the gist of it. Violet’s husband was the main constable, and you were quite certain he’d be moderate in his sentence, he had his helmet back, after all. It was the Air Force penalty of not being on base in time this morning that you feared, a growing nausea that compounded the misery of your aching head. They’d not discharge Egan, they’d probably not even demote him, he was too crucial and he’d done this one too many times for it to be grace alone saving him. When he was needed, really needed, he was there. That’s what counted. The same could be said of you, but that hardly mattered given your low rank.

Violet’s husband, also known as constable Herbert, came in sight and with a jangle of keys and a tap to the side of his nose, swung open the bars of infamy and gestured for you and your fellow inmates to file out.

“All sorted.” He declared. His gaze lingered on you as it had many times in your life when you’d been caught jumping in puddles after church, “Let this be a lesson and a warning to you.”

You tried your best at both obeisance and penitence, both of which were rather natural feelings at the present time, while hurrying past as fast as was respectful, your approaching shift hours making your heart thump in panic.

On the steps outside, your savior was loitering against the wrought iron fence, thumbing at the petunias in the nearby window box. Gale Cleven was a mile long of lanky body in perfectly pressed and tailored Air Force greens, fresh faced as the good conscienced are, hair combed without his cap and a smile on his soft face that was composedly long suffering, rather than endeared, as he watched you miscreants pour out of the modest brick building.

You stumbled to a halt on the first step at the sight of him and allowed your instincts to take over, hands smoothing down hair and skirt with frantic self consciousness. You must’ve looked a rumple.

“I hope last night was worth it.” Cleven drawled in that voice of his, so oddly deep for so fresh a face, his placid smile growing into something more genuinely mirthful as Egan smooched at him in gratitude and swore that he knew his Buck wouldn’t abandon them, that his Buck would pull through for them. “I order a round of toothpaste for everyone and cold showers, you stink.” Gale shied away without any real effort, nodding in greeting to the boys he recognized.

Then, as if in the most painfully slow motion with all the strong string accompaniment of a silver screen scene, his eyes landed on you and an odd ache formed in your chest at the anticipation of his disapproval.

It made you tense and draw yourself up to your full height, looking about as regal as a drenched bantam in your disheveled dignity, but you weren’t about to be relegated to another tier than these boys he so amusedly indulged.

“Y’all know what time it is?” he asked mildy, those azure orbs with their batting dark fringe didn’t waver and you realized he indeed had more guts than you’d given him credit for.

There was a chorus of “no”s and various guesses based on the fast evaporating fog and the lightening sky.

“Zero five thirty.” he ended the suspense with the cock of an eyebrow at you.

“Shit!” Egan was suddenly animated, “Shit, shit-“

“Hey, you keep your swearin’ away from my sweet lil corporal.” Cleven chided, and it took you a brief moment to startle upon realizing he meant you. And he thought you sweet? “C’mon Miss,” he waved you down the steps and for some inexplicable reason you felt very compelled to obey and suddenly stood beneath his gaze like a dutiful child awaiting deliverance or censure, “I’ve only got this bike, petrol allotment ran out when we went to the canals last week. But it’ll get ya back faster than this lot. Reckon you can manage on the handlebar?”

“Wha-?“ you glanced sideways at the bike with its large, sweeping handlebars and second guessed his meaning until he himself was straddling it. His legs required the seat to be hiked up impossibly high and the narrow nip of his waist was accentuated by the posture. Those padded, fleece puffed jackets you had seen him in had done no credit to his form, a toothpick he may have been with how terribly lean he was, but he was firm in all the right places. He was also waiting on you to answer while you ogled him.

“Gosh yes, I can, if you’re sure? Awfully kind of you.” you blathered and moved in a hurry to make up for your stalling, keenly conscious of his eyes on your back as you shimmied your backside up onto his handlebars, feeling the warm press of his hand as he helped steady you from tipping all the way back. You wiggled on the thin metal bar, spreading your legs on either side of the front wheel and doing your best to ignore the raucous commentary of the still tipsy audience of your fellow inmates swaying on the precinct steps. “Y’all just be glad there’s no mission scheduled today.” he snarked to them instead and they chimed up that last night’s idiocy was calculated with that in mind.

“Huh.” Cleven uttered, unimpressed, behind you and it made you shiver, worse than if your father caught wind of this stunt. “Darlin’ put your hands over mine, s’gonna get wobbly takin’ off.” he directed next and you did as you were told, looking back over your shoulder at him with a grateful smile that you were relieved to see returned, pink lips stretching and a freckled nose bunching up sweetly when all of the sudden a rush caught you by surprise and the bike was in motion and you whipped your head back to view the street as it rushed up ahead of you. “See ya boys!” he hollered out as a mutinous babble rose from his friends at being left to jog back.

The young man could put some speed on a bike, uphill too. Or, as much of a hill as could be found this far East. You could hear him chuckle when you squeaked at the first jolt of a pothole, your thumbs hooking under his hands and curling into his palms. They were warm and calloused, dry from the cool breeze and you may have imagined the way he squeezed them in assaurance but you did not imagine the way his voice piped up again, smooth and conversational: “Harry told me if I was quick I could get you out in time, I think we’re gonna make it. S’dont worry, even if Sergeant Lemmons gives ya trouble, I’ll insist.”

“That’s really too kind of you.” The chill of windburn and a substantial amount of remorse made your cheeks glow scarlet. “All of it is. I’m rather ashamed.”

“I didn’t take you for an all nighter sort.” he agreed but followed it with a soothing compliment, “You’ve always been nothin’ but perfect. P-p-perfectly punctual, I mean, and there’s no reason to let Egan’s idea of fun ruin your record.”

“Wasn’t his fault. Not wholly.” you sighed, giving Violet a bashful wave as you passed her opening the shop, a wave which Cleven mirrored behind you and between the two of you letting go the bike, it nearly dumped you both. It was luck and sheer persistence that righted you and kept your balance. “I’m afraid it’s a bit of a bad habit, picked it up at Northolt.”

“Where’s that?” he asked.

“South, by the coast.” you said, unsure why you felt the need to explain your debauchery away, “I was working a ground crew down there for a bunch of Polish Pilots. Spitfires mainly. That squadron nabbed the most kills of any in the RAF back in ‘40. Why, even Churchill visited more times than I can count, he found them good fun. Too much fun, they never went to bed without downing half a barrel. There was dice built into the bottom of the pints at the Black Bull, rather addictive, rolling to see who would buy the next round. —There was always a next.” You added upon reflection.

That was also the year you had lost your brother. The correlation between the habit and the loss wasn’t to be dwelt on.

“Huh,” Cleven let out one of him contemplative hums, “and how do we compare?” he asked surprisingly.

“How?” you laughed, daring to crane your neck back to see him in the early morning sunshine, pretty and sweet and arch in his expression. Dusk had not done his mama’s work on his face any justice, it made you want to pant he was so pretty.

“I dunno, in any way,” he laughed in turn, not even breathless as he sped the bike over the cobblestones, the village barely awake and mostly quiet, “how do we compare?”

“To the Poles?”

“Or the French. Or your own, the RAF ain’t no joke.” he amended, “Whoever is our competition.”

“So it is a competition.” you smirked -how very American of him. “Depends,” you hedged playfully, “Our boys are so very nice, familiar, they never run out the right coinage during a date either. But the French are better flirts while the Dutch are better dancers. But the Poles, they know how to romance. Lots of hand kissing and flowers, so many flowers there had to be rules made for overstocking the billet.”

“Sounds like we gotta step up our game.” he decided.

“Is that what you meant? How you compare? First impressions?”

“I-I- guess, yeah.” he now sounded confused, “I mean, what else? You got scores for aircraft?”

“I do.” you replied, as it was true, “But that’s unfair, you’ve only just arrived. I thought maybe you wanted to know something more -salacious.”

“Like?” His tone behind you was guarded and you doubted if the alcohol of last night were not still buzzing and fortifying your brazenness, that you’d ever go through with what you said next.

“Other performances. For instance, in bed.”

You felt his fingers flutter around the bars beneath your own, you gripped them tighter, not just because the stretch of old road before the air base was ancient and pitted but because you were in an agony of suspense as to how he’d take your forwardness.

“There’s a record of that somewhere?” he asked at last, a beat too long, too delayed for casualness, too morose for flippancy.

“In fact there is.” you responded carefully. “A little diary of rankings, actually, there’s multiple and whenever there’s a grand assembly of the WAAF or the WACs, they’re passed about and tallied.”

“Sweet Jesus.” he swore behind you, “And here I’ve been chalkin’ up railways and munition dump targets like they’re some achievement.”

“Oh it’s all a bit of silliness.” You assured, not intending to make him glum.

“Do-“ he hesitated and you prayed for strength for him to spit it out as the airfield came in sight on the flat plain ahead. He didn’t.

“-Do I what?” you prodded softly.

“Are one of these little tallies yours?” he asked miserably.

You grinned to yourself and felt the sunshine seemed brighter and the air crisper than ever before as it rushed in your face with the slowing speed of his bike. “No, not in the least. I merely keep track of Sally’s ledger. It’s all a bit too -messy, for me.”

You dared peak behind you again and he looked relieved, then blushed furiously at your observance of him. “Well, who does Sally say is winning?” he dared.

“Romania.” you chortled and he did too, in shock if nothing else. “But Egan’s caught wind of it, he’s quite determined to save your country’s dominance, you don’t need to sweat it.”

His frown was back and you had to focus on not falling off as he slowed the bike to a halt, momentum precarious as his long legs kicked out and walked it the last yard to the segregated barracks, you felt his hand again on your waist to steady you. “Does that bother you?” he asked earnestly, sorrow in his blue eyes.

He offered a hand for you as you hopped down and it was you who held onto it long after it was needed. “Bother me?”

“Yeah, him -consortin’…with Sally?” he pressed, hands quite engulfing your one, “Does it hurt you? Bucky, see, he doesn’t mean to hurt, he’s just so-“

“-Blimey, you are a dear.” you marveled and then amended your interruption as your amusement only further creased that sweet face, “If I am ever again in Major Egan’s company, it will only be to escape it just as quickly. I’ve had quite enough of…consorting.”

“That so?” The lackadaisical confidence he exhibited outside of the precinct was back again, a not unattractive smirk plastered on his vulnerable face, a scheme in his guileless eyes. “Had enough of holding cells?”

“Quite.” you smirked back. “A quiet family dinner is more my style, the occasional picnic, even a zip round Oxford as one must show the foreigners about.” you paused and squeezed his hand once more, “And I do enjoy a bike ride.”

You did not know if he cataloged your preferences for an ideal date or not, life was busy, after all, and the momentary frolics in the July sunshine and banter on the tarmac and evenings in the pub were the exception. Time went on. Most of life was spent in the air, in his case, and in yours, beneath the belly of his beast, wrench in hand. But ever after his gallant rescue of you, there was more than the passing “goodnight” paid to you, there were cheerful smiles on his exhausted face when he returned from a mission, as if you were the one face he was coming back to. With an old familiar dread you noticed the way you begin to take each hole and dent and damage to his plane personally, as if it had been exacted on something precious to you. You have begun to care, for him and for his men, and your tired heart could barely do more than dread what that might lead to.

Good fun. That’s what these boys were supposed to be.

Gale Cleven hadn’t proven much fun. And somehow that was worse. It was worse and also unbearably honoring to be the last face he saw before taking it off, flags in your hands waving in front of his hulking bomber, giving the old familiar directions for a perfect takeoff, one he executed sublimely time and again. His sober, purposeful nods to you before he engaged and taxied out for a mission of death was more intense and intimate than any bouquet or even, your thought, a kiss. It was true the donut dollies on the sidelines were often the last faces of home that many of those boys would see. But in the his cockpit, looking down at your shrimp sized figure on the tarmac, both Major Cleven and you knew that for him, it was yours.

Once, there was a scare, in the first days of august. More than a scare if you were being honest, your heartbeat about stopped and didn’t pick back up for a few hours until word came in. The rest of the base wasn’t much better.

Ten planes had not come back. -Among them, Our Baby. And Mugwump. For two officers, so crucial, so senior, idolized and beloved as they were, to not return, was a blow like none other. You weren’t alone in hovering around the control shack, taking license of your friendship with Dorace to get a play by play of any news. When news came, such as it was, it was both relieving and exasperating.

It would seem there was some problem, a defect or too great of a hit. Orders to land in enemy territory were ignored, however, by Cleven no less. He had doggedly pushed on, safely landing them in allied Africa, of all places. It took almost a day for this information to finally be pasted together, by the end of it you were sad, haggard and half useless in your coveralls, stupendously relieved for a man you were supposed to feel professionally about.

Instead, that night, tucked in your own bed after a meal with your parents and little brother, you thanked God for keeping him -them, all of them- safe. And found yourself pondering the tan on him when he got back from his African foray. Some jealous part of you feared he might be kept there but a week later the thunderous hum of approaching bombers buzzed the air overhead of Thorpe Abbotts and the satisfying thwump of wheels touching down brought them back. There was a frenzy of greetings, flight and ground crew eager to welcome them back, the radio operators, too, and even the civilians who’d managed to get on base.

Your little brother among them. Donald wanted to see them back safe and it wasn’t dangerous, and it wasn’t dire, not returning from a mission the planes wouldn’t be in such poor shape. They’d been repaired in Africa, enough to fly them all the way back to England. So little Donald was nearby and when the crowd parted and a bee-line for Cleven became apparent, he took advantage and gave the young man a firm handshake in greeting.

“Hey buddy, thank ya, who do you belong to?” Buck laughed while returning the firm grip.

“I’m her brother.” Donald pointed you out proudly among the dispersing crowd and you rolled your eyes at his expectancy for Gale to know or care about you, more than your most pertinent work on base.

“Oh are ya now, hers, huh?” he grinned at you, “Been talkin’ about me?” he greeted, there was a still healing scrape on his left temple that your fingers itched to soothe. How badly had he hit his head?

“Of course I have.” you defended, happiness bubbling under your lips and threatening to make you smile more than was professional, you could see Sergeant Lemmons observing you from the side and tried to keep some decorum. “We thought you’d died.” You stated plainly, it wasn’t any secret to Donald, as soon as the plane had gone missing and before radio contact had been reestablished, you’d rushed home and made the family pray over supper.

“We’ve been praying for you.” Donald agreed, and you saw Cleven startle, a gasped intake of breath between those lush lips and his eyes seemed to water as he searched first your brother’s face and then your own.

“You have?” he choked out, raspy and touched.

“Yes.” you whispered, mouth twisting in a ugly grimace to hold back your own emotion. It was of little use, something beyond War Effort investment in his well being had been admitted. “We thought you might be dea-“

-you didn’t finish your reiteration of your dread. Your face, a greasy and mist spattered face, was suddenly smushed into the padded leather of his bomber jacket, nose tucked right into the fleece apex where his pale blue scarf always rested on his throat.

He was hugging you, you realized with delayed surprise.

“-even though it made the potatoes cold, Da insisted on prayin’ every night after she told us-“ Donald was waxing eloquent on his own sacrifices of having one added prayer request lengthening his mealtime but you were oblivious to more than the firm press of Cleven’s still gloved hand to the back of your scarf wrapped head, some strong emotion shuddering through his body against your own. A tremor of terror and pain, you suspected, emotions he’d been suppressing all week.

After all, the saved weren’t supposed to be shaken up. They’d been saved, what was there to be off about? You’d seen enough pilots after a close call to know it was every bit as bad or worse than actual disaster. They’d send him right back up again in days, and that was what was expected, demanded, required. He was tremoring against you and you gripped him tighter, sympathetic and aching to cure it somehow. Even for a moment.

“We’ll keep praying.” you assured, and you heard him clear his throat, snotty and rough. “Oh, blast, I’ve positively greased your jacket.” you mourned as he let you go, finally, and you caught sight of the mess your filthy hands and face had imprinted on it during the embrace.

He chuckled as he looked down at the imprint, “S’fine.”

After such an exchange of emotion the air felt charged between you two, without privacy or precedence, it felt unthinkable to linger in that mood. You turned to his plane and pet the fuselage with unstudied fondness, it had been horrid having the old bird absent. You were not above having favorites and the love he poured into his ship, somehow, like some old fairytale truism, made the hulking metal beast lovable, in turn. “How’s our baby, hmm?” you asked him, giving him a sly smile and he took your proffered out seamlessly, joining you in cataloging the damage that had not been deemed severe enough to hamper his return.

“Don’t crawl under here, sir!” you protested as you wiggled under the belly only to find him beside you in the plane’s shadow, “You’ll be a mess!”

“I’ve already got stains.” he brushed your worries off, and you knew it was true. Bloodstains in fact. He had lost a man, the report said, and apparently, judging by his trousers, Buck had held the poor fellow as he bled out. “And I wanna show you the spot I’m worried ‘bout.”

“Alright.” you conceded, allowing him to direct you to the nose. “Watch it Donald!” you had to reprimand your little brother who predictably followed after, “You’ll burn yourself if you touch that, this thing was just running.”

“Careful buddy.” Gale echoed gently beside you and pushed his little head down, more into a crawl. You refused to allow the gentle way he treated the brat to warm you, you refused. Or at least, you refused to let it show, the tingle and heat you felt being all too consuming to be denied.

He was lovely. But you already knew that. He was even more lovely when, upon crawling out from under Our Baby, he took his scarf from around his neck, silk decadently soft, flesh warmed and smelling strongly of his exertions, and swiped it across your greased cheek.

“You’ve got just a lil more…” he practically mumbled and wiped down to your chin, firm, gentle little rubs of the silk which required his other hand to grasp your chin to steady you. You weren’t sure when he’d taken off his gloves, but the feel of his skin on yours was heady.

“It’ll take a couple days.” You predicted regarding the repairs, “Which means you’ll have a few days free, if they don’t drown you in reports.”

“Oh they will.” he laughed, “But s’long as my days are free, means yours aren’t.” he pointed out.

“I guess that’s true.”

“We shoulda thought of that when we chose this line of work.” he joked and your cheeks flamed at the realization he wished to spend time with you. “But you’ll have your nights still, yeah?”

Coming from anyone else, the request for your nights to be reserved would strike you as suggestive indeed. But this was Buck, and when he mentioned nights you imagined nothing but taking him home for a tepid potato and rationed powdered milk supper and the warm reception of your family. His weary eyes suggested how badly he needed that. You could give it to him, and it made your heart glow.

“Yes, I’ll have my nights.” you agreed, “And you can have them, too.”

Sergeant Lemmons agreed with your estimation of Our Baby’s damage the following day and four long days after were spent patching up damage that suggested what a hellish ride that must’ve been. Someone else hosed the blood out of the bay but it turned the puddle on the concrete beside you sickly pink.

To and fro from office to barracks to observation tower, Cleven would stop by to see his ‘baby’ on these occasions. The heckling the ground crew gave you regarding this potential double meaning was agonizing and almost made his attentions not worth it. But then he’d be dropping to a squat to chat with you as you soldered metal, heedless of the sparks, or else bringing scones from the mess to refresh you and, again, wiping your face often with his fancy scarves despite your protests that it was futile.

And at night, on the second day, you made good on yours and Donald’s word and brought him to dinner. It was a quiet walk from the base to the end of the long main road, right to the outskirts of the village, where your family’s unassuming little thatched cottage nestled amongst mama’s victory garden, daddy’s aeroplane hanger and repair shop loomed ugly and dark behind.

The look on Buck’s face when you met him outside the base’s gate at seven in the evening in a dress and heels was worth capturing. But you hadn’t a camera with you and it wasn’t like you were liable to forget. His pure look of awe and appreciation for your cleaned up and girlish state was nearly comic if it weren’t so flattering.

“Darlin-“ he began in a rush but did not finish, only taking you lightly by the fingertips and spinning you slowly, his eyes wide like he was seeing a marvel, which, maybe he was, -your womanly form finally liberated from puffy uniforms and ugly coveralls. Wholesome as your intentions were for the evening, and indeed for him in general, it was some relief and delight to know he was capable of getting hot under the collar. His mama’s well drilled manners soon caught up to his unbridled appreciation and a deluge of charmingly proper compliments rained down on you next until you had to put a stop to his babble by tugging him down the road with the reminder of dinner as incentive.

“You’re sure they won’t mind?” he began his worries again, nervous to meet your parents.

If he’d been like the rest of the boys he’d know just how much mingling was already common. It wasn’t remotely odd to bring him home, not when you lived so near. “Don’t be silly, they’ve been begging to meet you and Donald has plans of torturing you with his plane models and Papa wants to show you his shop and mama thinks you're much too skinny, I’m sure she’s gone to the black market to grab something to fatten you-“

“-how’s she know that?” he interrupted in shock.

“Oh,” you flushed, realizing your misstep, “I’ve talked of you. And she recognized you, she and Violet are thick as thieves and -it’s not like you’re unremarkable. A physical description is rather easy to give when you, well, when you look like…you.”

“What do I look like?” he cried out but his cheeks were smiling despite his outrage, “Malnourished?”

“Like a lanky cherub.” you refuted and were pleased that the late summer sun was still bright enough at this long hour to show his pretty blush.

“A cherub.” he repeated in disbelief.

“Yes.” you were firm, both in tone and the press of your hand in the crook of his offered elbow, “And as we’ve been commended to entertain angels unaware, how much more when we are certain of one?”

“Oh shut up.” he begged you and you two staggered into each other as you laughed your hearts out. It felt good to laugh, for the both of you, and a little too foreign, as well. It left a hollow melancholy in its wake that was soothed by the near and swaying proximity of each other’s body.

“They’ll be glad to have you at the table.” you dared go on, feeling you should prepare him, should the subject arise, “I’ve a brother, you see, an older brother. Rafe, he was stationed in Burma. We’ve not heard of him in over two years. There’s an empty seat at our table, it takes a certain sort of soul to fill it without it feeling like a sacrilege. But you fit the bill nicely, I think.”

“Burma.” he repeated with all the gravity of a man who understood, who knew the ache of almost hoping a dear brother, a beloved son, was dead rather than enduring the slow hell of a Japanese internment camp. How awful to almost wish for a decisive end for one so loved. “No word at all?”

“None.”

“I’m terribly sorry.”

“Thank you.” you whispered, “And thanks for making it back, yourself.” you squeezed his arm jovially and felt his other hand fall atop yours there in the crook of his elbow and a sweetness filled you at the gesture, such as you’d never known before. It was peaceful and lovely and your little village suddenly looked as pretty and idyllic again as it was always supposed to, the routine route home was seen through his eyes, the eyes of a homesick boy with a soft girl on his arm, bound to meet her parents and inspect Donald’s plane models.

Your mother and father loved him, little surprise there, he was a darling and homesick and yours was a happy home, humble and wounded though it may be. Your mother was obnoxious in her delight the moment father took him out back to see where your expertise for welding first began, the little aerodrome, no longer fitted with pleasure craft but now fitted to scrap the more useless casualties. Mother pestered you as you helped clear the table, asking after him and whatever this thing was between you. When you assured her it was only dinner to fill that chair and some unfathomable knowledge that had grown each time you stood before his propeller and waved him off to death, she knew it for what it is.

War and the urgency of living that goes with it, shrinks long emotions into fast passion and steady hearts into foolish daring. Neither of you were the sort to tumble into the passing vogue passions that had seized hold of your friends and comrades. Yours was a quieter path. Even so, after the fourth evening of dinner rations and quiet fireside chatter and the patter of late summer rain on the roof, there was a kiss as he walked you back to base, his jacket over your shoulders, his shirt clinging to him and the sweetest intent etched on his misted features as his lips descended to yours.

“Thank you,” he had said so passionately yet so subdued, a wall of wisteria at your back and his honey blonde hair dripping into his eyes, “I’ve needed this bad.”

His words suggested the family dinners, his scorching lips suggested the molded flesh of your body in his large palms.

“So you’ve wanted this?” your breathed mixed, a hazy little cloud between you in the damp evening air, your little alcove of shelter from the rain under old Mosley’s shed was like another little world entirely, fauna filled and peaceful, even the ever present drone of machinery was drowned out by the downpour.

Your mother had been right, you should've waited longer till the clouds passed but you had both cited curfew -and maybe even subconsciously sought just such a predicament as the one that had you necking Gale Cleven in a wisteria claimed tool shed.

“I’ve wanted you.” he clarified, firm grip on the base of your neck punctuating his turmoil, his lips met yours again and whatever oath of abstinence he had chosen, it did not seem to include kissing. He was soft and persistent and all consuming, those restless hands migrating in an ever mapping caress, making every part of you thrum with butterflies. “Wanted you for a long while.” he spoke into your lips, “I think you’re just great.” And there was happiness then, untinged with anything temporal beyond the feel of warm flesh beneath cold, rain soaked cloth and lips that tasted of honeyed biscuits.

It was impossible to maintain the stoic propriety of behavior you’d once managed before, on base, after that. You knew now how he sounded when he moaned into your mouth and he his stare alone could make you blush, you had spoken to his mother on the phone and he had seen your childhood bedroom. He learned once, laying amongst sea grass on the beach during a cloudy Sunday, the silky moist feel of you beneath your swimsuit, his long, bashful fingers that were ever so fond of petting anything and everything, finally finding a place that responded to his swipes with jolts and gasps and sighs and pleasure. You peaked three times on that sand dune, Buck none the wiser as he had nothing to compare your little deaths to, you kept a firm grip on his forearm and told him he was doing marvelous and that’s all it took for him to be persistent. Persistent beyond what you imagined any other man could be due to cramp. He was getting freckles from so much sunshine, but it was well, the rains would be here soon come autumn.

These happy days had you risking your life to pause your work and watch his pretty form swagger across the asphalt to his next destination and he, ever so right and proper and by the book, became devil enough to lie in wait for you and catch you by the waist when you least suspected it and drag you into some abandoned corner.

Only to kiss you.

To kiss and to ask after your day, as if your evening was not to be spent sat beside him at table or the movies, lying on a picnic blanket with him near or in the back of a jeep on top of Mayberry Rise, the tallest point around where the stars ran into the sea on the horizon.

One of the first days of September, you made good on your promise to Harry and drove with him to muck about Oxford for a day and see the college, the library, too. It was a long ride and as you were at the wheel, Harry was gem enough to allow Gale along, too, and by the end of it, driving back late and in a rush before the headlights would be needed, you were quoting favorite literary passages to each other. As if you were all students, not misplaced youths in the business of killing.

You said as much and in the burgeoning gloom Gale’s rich voice asked if you knew any Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

“Not Wordsworth!” Harry clarified.

“No, I don’t.” You admitted, for all your chiding today of their not being cultured enough, you didn’t know your American writers as you should.

“He’s got a poem for that.” Gale said, “For what you said. Or at least, it makes me think of today -that verse, ‘member Crosby?- the one it goes:

-I remember the gleams and glooms that dart across the school-boy's brain; The song and the silence in the heart, That in part are prophecies, and in part, Are longings wild and vain. And the voice of that fitful song, Sings on, and is never still: "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

The deafening silence for the rest of the car ride was filled with truth and your own heart was heavy when you bid them both goodnight that evening, headed to your seperate billets. You paused in you departure to turn back once more at the door and holler to Buck in the chilled September air, “That poem, is there more of it?”

“Lots more.” he’d spun round on his heel, pleasantly surprised at your inquiry.

“What’s it called?” you intended to search it out, though it was doubtful that a copy would be found near this remote place.

“How about I write it out for ya?” he suggested as if thinking the same.

“You’ve got a whole damn poem memorized?” you balked, incredulity warring with amusement that you should’ve guessed he’d be the sort.

“I-I-I might.” he stuttered before laughing.

“Then please do.” you grinned and threw him a kiss across the distance which he jumped up and caught from the air in a grand show of dedication. “Goodnight, cherub.” you wished him, “Sleep tight.” He had a mission in the morning, a daylight one.

“Goodnight old Bean.” He teased your accent and the door swung shut behind you blocking out the cold and the retreating sound of his footsteps.

If you’d have known that was the last time you’d hear them you’d have stayed an age out in the cold night listening to him go, memorizing the cadence of his gait, the sway of his shoulders disappearing into the twilight, the turn of his head as he’d throw a glance back at you, sweet and handsome and cheerful despite his ominous itinerary.

If you’d have only known.

It wasn’t like last time, like Africa. There had been no loss of contact. Dorace had heard every awful minute until the clock ran out. They’d been shredded, their precious ship turned into a raging inferno and Major Cleven’s gritted and garbled transmissions left only one hope that some at least had jumped out. Jumped out only to land in Nazi occupied Europe, it was a faint mercy to cling to.

The empty chair sat next to you again at the table and mocked you all. Mocked your hope and your resilience to dare love again. How foolish to bring home a man who belonged to a group they were calling “Bloody”, and not as a curse but an epithet.

The losses had been staggering all summer and now in September they hit close. You were confident that Crosby and Egan were every bit as dismal inside as you felt, Egan’s warm hand had clasped your shoulder like you were a fellow officer and told you he was sorry. You took the condolences and gave them back, a stupid little exchange that only highlighted how unspeakable some pain is.

Three weeks later, Egan’s plane didn’t come back either.

In your more fanciful moments you allowed yourself to imagine Egan and Cleven alive, somewhat whole and reunited. You could almost hear Cleven’s joking welcome, “What took you so long, Bucky?”

You’d indulged these fancies for Rafe, too, until years of silence suggested the worst.

However, this time, well into October and with an entirely new set of planes under your care, word came at last through the Red Cross, and the truth was exactly as you’d dreamed. There was only the paltriest letter back to command but it said they were well, they were alive, together indeed and being moved to the Polish border. Away from their own comrades' bombs. It was more than most ever got, and your family celebrated the news with the gratitude it deserved.

As October turned to November and your gloved fingertips froze as you worked, every sharp needle of chill reminded you of him, how much more awful it must be that far north, snow piled deep and muck everywhere and lice covered blankets and illness left untreated. As the holidays hurtled nearer, days of peace and goodwill you had planned to be spent with him, you were consumed by the dread of losing him to the elements since war had proven too clement. At night you lay abed and reread the one bit of handwriting you had from him, that damned poem he had written out, left under your door in the early dawn that had taken him from you.

My lost youth. That was the title of the thing. It cut like glass every time you read it, but Buck had touched that paper and looped those letters and dotted those i’s and it was precious to you. It became a prayer of sorts.

“There are things of which I may not speak;

There are dreams that cannot die;

There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak,

And bring a pallor into the cheek,

And a mist before the eye.

And the words of that fatal song

Come over me like a chill:—

“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”

Strange to me now are the forms I meet

When I visit the dear old town;

But the native air is pure and sweet,

And the trees that o’ershadow each well-known street,

As they balance up and down,

Are singing the beautiful song,

Are sighing and whispering still:—

“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”

Then, in January, as if prayers got heard, the most unexpected happened.

Major Gale Cleven, what was left of him after cold, starvation, murder and a treck across Europe, had returned. Things like this, seeing your lost beloved ride up to your workplace in the shotgun seat of a jeep, was the stuff of movies, hopeful propaganda or a woman’s mind that had finally cracked. You just stood there, welding helmet in hand, frozen rain spitting down at you, watching him jump out, watching Harry tear down from the observation tower to embrace him.

Dully, you could hear behind you Segreant Lemmons kind cheer of “so it was true, he got away from the bastards!” and a congratulatory thump between your shoulder blades. It was a moment of truth, to realize how far your faith had dwindled when the very answer to your prayers stood steaming with life in the cold air and yet you still could not accept it as reality.

“Baby.” his hands were warm compared to your damp cheeks and the span of them, so familiar and large, cupping your jaw with the calloused thumbs swiping at your temples, that was reminiscent of August and of happier days. Yet still, you had dreamed of him doing this, dreamed of a million different embraces and each time you woke up. “Baby, I’m back, I came to ya.” his voice was wrecked, from disuse and illness and whatever misery that had subjected him to. That, that was real enough, the rattling cough more so, you’d imagined his suffering in your worst nightmares too, this was something you could believe.

Familiar flesh was gaunt under your touch, gray cheeks where once there’d been freckles and the sinful pout of his once ruby red mouth was a dull violet, as if the vitality had been leached out of him. “What’d they do to my cherub?” you mourned, worst nightmares and wildest hopes blending into this one moment.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry f’me, I’m back. I came back.” he cooed to you, rough and sad himself, and your face was buried again in the placard of his coat, a great woolen overcoat this time, no fleece or any vestige of the swanky finery that got the flyboys ribbed for being soft, fancy, spoiled.

Nothing soft about these men, nothing gentle about their lot, nothing glamorous about being hurled down from the skies in a ball of fire.

“We kept praying for you.” you realized, it seemed important to tell him that however hopeless you all had felt, you’d gone through the motions anyway.

That was faith, wasn’t it? The hope of things not seen?

“I felt ‘em.” he said. “How else you think I managed it?”

It. -had managed it, that tiny word represented a host of terrors and miseries and unforgettable incidents that ricocheted in his brain like the lead fired into his boys head’s when they couldn’t manage a forced march, barefoot and underfed, in the snow.

Christmas had passed but January was not so very advanced, that evening your family turned back the clock and it was a matter of guessing as to who was celebrated more, baby Jesus or Buck Cleven. The two seemed intertwined at this point and in the warm glow of gas lamps and rationed toddy, with Buck’s hollow cheeks beginning to bloom and his dull eyes starting to animate, some part of you finally understood why so many felt worshipful on the holiday. The shit war rations felt like a feast, mama’s canned vegetables being the freshest thing he’d eaten in ages and with him sat at table again, empty chair filled, his hand creeping into your lap to lace with your own, there was peace.

Even the airforce, hard driving and high demanding though it was, took one look at his battered condition and admitted a period of conveyance was due. It wouldn’t do to send up a shoddy pilot, lose another plane, yet another crew or a hero of the hundredth. It’s not every day one of your squadron leaders escapes a POW camp and marches over occupied Europe and fordes the Channel to get back home.

A month was set aside. And you took as many weekday passes as you could during that month, happier than anything that he had been permitted to stay in town, to lodge with one of the locals. Rafe’s room was now occupied by him and mama’s broth was poured down Gale’s throat twice daily and his days kept busy with paperwork and Donald’s math problems. The ticking clock, the passing days, like the evil crocodile gobbling up time, was politely and britishly ignored in favor of enjoying what was. You no longer slept with the tear stained and crumpled poem clasped to your throat but his head lay there often enough instead. The thump of your heart helping him sleep, because exhausted and sick as he was, sleep and solitude were not comforts.

He was wracked with guilt for leaving Egan and his men behind, it had been every man for himself during that brutal forced march, he knew that and yet he’d left a friend behind. Buck waited for news of Egan like you’d waited for news of him. Nameless and senseless guilt ruining much of his own success and peace.

“He’d have expected nothing less of you.” you had taken to reminding him, “He’d be angry if you hadn’t taken the opportunity like you did.”

“I know.” he agreed miserably.

You admitted to him then, the horrid guilt of feeling that somehow, some missed defect or some lousy flaw had been the reason he’d been downed. Your work somehow not sufficient to keep him in the skies. When you’d admitted as much, Sergeant Lemmons had looked at you with all the censure such moronic introspection deserved: “Cleven got bombed to hell. He expected it, daytime raid and all. Blame the Nazis.”

“Blame the Nazis.” you suggested now to Gale as he lay sprawled in your arms, sweaty and feverish but his color was back and he looked pretty as anything so alive and near.

He looked ready to dare something, his face hovering nearer yours and the heavy weight of his limbs suddenly feeling full of intent but then his sparkling eye caught sight of something in the doorway and his lips quirked and his body shifted away.

“Whatcha doin’ sulkin’ out there Donny?” he addressed your brother and sure enough the little scamp emerged from the shadow of the doorway and joined you two on the bed, comic book clutched in his hands. They had a routine, apparently, Papa was no longer the chosen one for bedtime stories. It made you want to wince in anticipation for when Buck would move back to base and things would become full of dread again.

That day came sooner than you’d counted on. A month is not so very long, after all, and it was filled with so much work and business, stolen moments at home hardly being the norm.

“It’s an easy mission.” he’d said at dinner, as if arguing the point to you all. You knew he was trying to convince himself more than anything and so you all let him specify just how easy, how routine, how utterly unworrying tomorrow's flight would -should- be.

If it’s hard to get back into the saddle after being bucked off, how much worse to climb back into a plane after being tossed from the skies.

That evening he lounged on your bed instead of Rafe’s, the house emptied as your mother and father took Donny to the movies, the appeal of a new film finally showing cited as being too alluring to resist. He was lost in his thoughts, watching you go about your little evening routines that you tried to maintain when at home. It was domestic and cozy, warm where the world outside was cold and then there was Buck, golden as anything in the low lamp light, utterly unaware of the figure he cut lying on his side.

“I’ve missed it.” he told you, “Flying, I’ve missed it.”

“Of course you have. You were born for it.” you murmured.

“Ya know,” he reflected, “I signed up for the Air Force before it all got hot, before Pearl Harbor. I was gonna fly no matter what. I remember grittin’ my teeth durin’ training and tellin’ myself it would all be worth it. Just hang in there and it would pay off. I just felt something important would need me. Hell, guess I got more than I ever bargained for, didn’t I?”

“I guess you did.” you agreed.

“I couldn’t do this if I didn’t believe in it.” He insisted and you knew he was talking to himself again, until his face turned towards yours and the softest look of fondness crossed features turning them almost pained when he said next, “I couldn’t do it, get back up there, if it weren’t for love. The rightness of it but -love, for my boys, my family. For you.”

“I know, and we’re terribly lucky to have your devotion. -And…and I love you, too.” you vowed earnestly, then giggled at the absurdity of this being the first time to admit it.

“I’d had my suspicions.” he grinned back, some of that old cockiness returning along with his vigor as he snagged your wrist and pulled you down beside him.

“Do you know why my parents have gone?” you asked him pointedly, turning on your side to face him.

“To see a movie.” His face was so innocently perplexed you almost lost control of yourself and ruined the game right then with something terribly forward.

“My parents aren’t in the habit of seeing movies.” you corrected him soberly.

“No?”

“No.”

“So where’d they go?” Buck asked.

“Oh they’re at the movies.” you smirked, “But they’ve gone for us.”

Gale’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, if not of you then of his own naïveté. “For us.” he repeated and his voice had dropped an octave in the interim.

“Yes. Something about wanting us to have a goodbye.” you quoted.

“I’m not dying tomorrow.” he pointed his finger firmly in your face and it made you smile to see him so fiesty again.

“No,” you agreed with his prophecy, “but I wanted to give you some incentive to hurry back.”

“Oh?” those lips of his puckered again in confusion before his smarts caught up with him and the pink corner tugged up in mischief, “Ooooh.” he repeated, suddenly very close, his energy, his body, his heart, inches from being one with you. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, oh yes.” you confirmed, slotting your lips against his gently only to be met with eager, desperate need in his own kisses.

Your childhood bed was narrow and the counterpane below you familiar and dear, stitched by your mother in colors you’d once wished to update upon entering maturity. Now, laid out in perfect security and familiarity, you watched Buck Cleven dangle a toe off the abyss before diving in, pausing to caress the blanket beside your hip, smiling to himself.

“What?” you were breathless to know every thought in that dear head.

“My mama made me one, looks lots like this.” his eyes were watery soft yet his smile was glad, his hips narrow and sharp in the cradle of your own, stark hipbones not yet padded by your mother’s cooking pressed you down into the bedding, grounded and right. “You’ve made me real at home here.” he whispered and it pleased you ever so much. “Do I dare take this last liberty?” he muttered as if to himself, even as those blue orbs bore into your own, his fingers fiddling with the hem of your skirt and you ached from need long deferred and the weight of remedy lying heavy between your thighs.

“It’s no liberty,” you whispered, catching his dog tags and bringing his face to yours, the size of the man so very apparent now he was hovering above you, “it’s yours.” you watched his pupils blow out at the statement, his ragged breath fanned minty across your face, even angels wield swords. “I’m yours.”

“And I’m yours.” he concluded.

With that exchange of truths something snapped between you, like a ribbon cut, gone was the hesitant cordiality and deference that had marked your courtship. Here now was fierce possession and the gloated satisfaction of those who possess something cherished and are no longer kept from partaking of it, buckles and garters snapped in the quiet room and the rustle of sheets and shirts wafting to the floor made your breaths hitch with anticipation. Precious flesh came into touch with every brush and it was enough for many minutes merely to cling and grasp, imprinting desire into the back and the arms and the throat of each other, like an armor of love against the decay of death.

“Yours, yours.” you swore as his finger played you once more, his breathing hard and rough in your ear, harsh commands for you to say it again and again, reminding you he was fearsome when he wanted to be.

“Don’t look,” he begged when you realized through a haze of joy what he was about, pressing in with all the finesse of a cricket bat knocking at the wicket, hoarse and doe eyed above you, there was only the whine, “please, darlin’ don’t look, just, my eyes, please.”

It was a fumbling entry but nature and pleasure prevailed, as it had since the first couple. And dear boy that he was, he knew you had indulged in a leg up, one or two at least, before he came along but still, he could not bear it for you to see more, not this time. He wanted it just to be the kisses and the sight of your precious face contorting at the fullness of your belly and the force of his hunger for you. All the rest were vulgar details left somewhere under your skirts, and, unbeknownst to him, reflected in your childhood mirror situated on the wall behind his plump arse.

“Oh god.” he had choked out, winded and in awe as his body shook at the feel of you accepting him deep, “You’re a slice of heaven, heaven that’s-that’s what you fee- oh god, oh god.”

He had giggled at the absurdity of this dance and then broke off with a moan that made you giggle in turn and back and forth it went as his body jerked into yours as if he’d no control over it, led quite literally by the part of himself buried inside you. He knew it was foal-like and a poor showing as a lover and he also knew you didn’t care a bit, your eyes wide at the size of the intrusion and captivated by the sight of his newly enlightened face.

“You alright?” he asked urgently, as a sudden and familiar feeling took over his body. The feeling of his brakes giving out, his flaps malfunctioning, the hydraulics failing -it took over him, his spine tingling and his vision beginning to blur and only your punched out gasps and sweet smile wavering on his horizon as the frantic, masculine, natural need to drive in deep enough to puncture your heart seized him and propelled him in you, against you, above you with such force you forgot to breath. For all Egan’s teasing of Buck’s hatred for athletics, the man wasn’t shabby when it came down to it, even after months of internment, or maybe due to that stolen time, his life force seemed to pour out in a torrent and your belly buzzed at the sweet abuse.

“I’m perfect.” you managed at some point, “You’re perfect, so perfect.”

He shuddered at the praise and as if terror struck him then, he was suddenly pulling away and moaning “I should- I shouldn’t -I’m gonna, darlin, I’m gonna lose it-“ and young and sweet and clumsy as anything he rutted against your slick frantically, mouth pressed to yours until the hot gush of his satisfaction spilled out and added to the mind fuzzing feel of him sliding against your little pearl.

You encouraged his shaky limbs to collapse on you, the lanky frame of him a sweet weight, sweaty cheek pressed to your breast, you could feel the dopey curve of his smile against your plump flesh. His hair curled at the nape from the sweat of his exertions, all winter chill forgotten in this bed. War and missions and bombs, too. You petted each other for a while before he raised his head and, gazing at you adoringly, he murmured “thank you.” his nose nudging yours and the steadiest of kisses lingering in the tingly aftermath.

“Darlin?” he broached the subject a while later, cheek again pressed to your chest and his fingers sliding in a hypnotic caress over your thigh.

“Yeah, Buck?”

“Later,” he prefaced, tentative and raw, “when -when the war’s over, and when, well, when I can make my own promises…”

Your heart hammered beneath his ear and you squeezed your legs around him, as if to shore him up enough to say what you wanted him to say so very badly. “Yes?”

“Would you marry me then?” he begged and somehow you knew this, what you had just indulged in, was never going to happen without that hope for him.

Perhaps that’s why it felt so strong, like a communion of souls more than anything else. “I’ve half a mind to make you wait and get my answer when you come back tomorrow.” you teased and his head reared up with a dangerous glint in his eye.

“Don’t you dare.” he warned, grin breaking out despite himself.

The sound of the front latch grating on the door startled you both but he pressed you down when you went to scamper and clothe yourself. “The door’s closed anyway,” he argued in a whisper but you knew he felt as nervous as you at being caught, if not more so, yet still he was a stubborn one. His hand was firm and large clasping your cheek, expression arch and expectant. “Promise you’ll be a good little girl and say yes when I do ask.”

You laughed at his gall, to make you wait, to make you promise when he wasn’t even proposing. But then again -you had said you were his, and he was yours. It had already been done. Sometimes life was as simple as Gale Cleven made it out to be.

“I promise.” you whispered happily, bringing him back down to your embrace and willing away thoughts of tomorrow and flagging him out to danger.

One day he’d come back for good. One you could make promises again. Until then, there was hope.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed. Feedback is a writers lifeblood, I’d adore hearing your thoughts. 💋

[ponderingmoonlight]

(y/n) sparing Kokushibo's life for him to save her

Pairing: Kokushibo x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,9k

Synopsis: You find yourself standing in front of none other than the upper moon one. And while you know your chances are low and that your life might end in the dusk of day, you are able to cage Kokushibo into the upgoing sun. Until his eyes are filled with sorrow, until you make a decicion that might cost your life...

Warnings: this is my first ever Kokushibo fic so please let me know what you think! Like for Yorichii, I inserted a few pics into the fanfic itself so be prepared, angst to fluff, not proofread yet, NO MANGA SPOILERS 🤍

Special thanks to my dear @lavenderdrxp for the request!

The cold air of the night lashes against your sensitive skin without mercy, only warmed by your blood that runs down your frame like rivers. You are so tired. Tired of fighting, tired of your life. Why did you decide on becoming a demon slayer, developing into a quite skilled hashira? Right, because one of them murdered your whole village without blinking, because you wanted to protect humans from their cruel hands.

Your fingers start to tremble uncontrollably while you hold onto your sword for dear life, the handle smeared in crimson. The second you laid your eyes on him, felt his presence, you saw death itself. You’ve never encountered one of the upper moons carefully chosen by Muzan Kibutsuji himself. Until today, you were so keen to win this endless fight, thought you’d stand a chance against the demon king.

“Give up your dreams and die.”

But the man in front of you is the upper moon one. The man in front of you was able to almost kill you with just one skilled slash of his sword. Is this how you’ll die? In a 10-minute fight with a demon? Of course, you always knew your life would end like this. After all, this is the fate of a demon slayer, this is what you chose.

But…you don’t want to die. You want to live a long and healthy life, want to eat mochis until sunset and play cards with your friends.

“I will never give up”, you press out, dashing forward over and over again.

Your body begs you to stop and rest, to let your blade fall and never return to this life. But instead, you stare into his cold eyes, those beautiful colourful orbs that would fascinate you in another situation. How did a man like him end up being such a powerful demon?

“Foolish human. Do you really think you are able to defeat me?”

Your eyes dart up to the sky above. That cursed night that makes it possible for these creatures to walk on earth freely. But that faint shimmer of orange tells you that day will soon arrive, that maybe…

It might be stupid to even consider a win, that you’ll make it out of here alive. But if you are able to entertain him for a couple more minutes and trap him until sunrise, you’d be able to not only escape, but kill him.

Your mind starts to race, eyes scanning his body up and down. He’s quite tall and muscular, it won’t be easy to defeat him without any weapons. No, not even your katana will be enough. But maybe the poison you created with Shinobu-san will be.

“Use this against a demon whenever you feel like you can’t defeat him otherwise. This will make any demon unable to move for at least a few minutes.”

Every demon, she said. Every demon definitely includes the man standing in front of you. But will this be enough, are you actually skilled enough to even hit him? You need to inject the poison into his body, meaning a slice with your poisoned blade would be more than enough.

But that means you have to land a hit.

“You’re a fool if you really think I’ll give up so easily.”

Kokushibo needs to move, needs to end this fight before the sun starts to rise. You’re a hashira, his worst enemy. But instead, he can’t help but stare at you through the darkness of the night. You seem so unbothered by his presence, so confident in your abilities that it simply sweeps him off his feet.

Are you actually dumb enough to underestimate him? No, the fact that you keep your save distance to his sword tells him more than urgently that you know very well who is standing in front of you. No, your firm believe in yourself is enough to make you stand your ground.

And again, you dash towards him, holding onto your sword so tightly that your knuckles stand out white. He dodges your attack with ease, slicing through your tender flesh too light to hurt you critically. Oh, he knows all too well that he’s holding back, that you should be dead already. Why is he not able to end this fight, to finally get rid of you? Your eyes seem to gleam in the darkness, light up the word around him. When was the last time he saw the sun? He can’t remember. But your eyes have to be close.

A sudden pain crawling up his back rips him out of his pondering. What was that? Did you manage to hit him, is the sun starting to rise? Slowly he turns around, eyes finding your cramped-up figure on the floor. His flesh starts to heal in an instant, the only hint for your attack being a minor cut in his cloak. Yes, you indeed managed to hit him.

“I thought you are a hashira. Aren’t you aware that as a demon, I’m healing in an instant?”

Your heavy breaths hang in the air between both of you, your blood discolouring the forest ground crimson while your hands dig into the mud. This was all you’ve had left. It has to be enough, the poison has to function. Otherwise…

Your tired eyes dart towards him and the way he slowly approaches you. Will this be your end? Like in slow motion he raises his sword over your head, ready to behead you. At least you did what you could, faced him with everything you’ve head. Becoming a demon slayer meant being ready to give your life sooner or later. You allow your lids to rest, awaiting the bow of his sharp blade in silence. At least your end will be graceful, right?

But instead of his sharp blade, you are greeted by his tall figure crashing into you onto the ground. Is this real? Did the poison work? You force your eyes open, heart almost beating out of your chest when you begin to realize.

You made it. Despite the stinging fact that this man is the upper moon one, you somehow managed to stand up against him and steal his ability to move.

“You…poisoned…me”, he presses out.

What a fool he was for sparing your life when he had the chance to kill you so easily. Now the sun slowly but surely starts to rise, makes his skin burn uncomfortably while his venomous eyes stare right through your soul. You really are a brave one, bright orbs set on him while you free yourself from the pressure of his body above you.

“I did what I have to do. You are my enemy.”

Yes, you have to remind yourself over and over again. It doesn’t matter that his facial features suddenly begin to soften, you really don’t care about the way he stares into the rising sun. No, it doesn’t bother you that he looks almost…hurt.

“I haven’t seen a sunrise for a long time”, he mumbles.

“I love to see the sun rise. There is no better feeling than the first warm rays of the day against bare skin and that striking colours painted in the sky.”

“You look exactly like a woman who adores sunrises”, he comments so tenderly that you rip your gaze away from the orange sky for a second.

“And you look like a man who did as well”, you reply without thinking twice.

In the dim light he looks breathtakingly gorgeous. Yes, there is no doubt that this demon once was a handsome man with the kindest eyes. You hold your breath, the mark engraved into his eye reminding you more than urgently that this man is indeed a powerful demon. You should leave him to the sheer force of the sun, let him burn for all the sins he committed. But instead, a deep grief holds onto your heart tightly.

“I did indeed.”

Is that a tear escaping his eye? No, impossible. No demon you ever encountered cried, regretted his actions. Does he feel the presence of death haunting after him, the way his skin starts to burn under the first rays of sunshine? His forehead starts to redden before catching fire, making a deep whimper escape his lips.

“Do you want to live on?”

What a stupid question to ask, how reckless to even talk to him. Why does your hand cup his cheek all of the sudden, why do you feel sorry for one of the strongest demons in existence?

“Maybe dying in the upgoing sun is more than I am able to ask for”, he speaks out slowly and reserved.

Your mind starts to raise, comes up with a plan more poisonous than anything Shinobu has ever created. This is ridiculous to even think about, you are a demon slayer, a hashira to be exact. The thought alone is ridiculous.

But not ridiculous enough to stop yourself from grabbing him under his armpits and start hovering him into the safety of the thick woods, away from the dangerous rays of sunshine. You feel like fainting, your very own blood following you behind like a trail while you huff in exhaustion. But still, you keep on moving, shield his body from the sun with your blood-soaked coat while all he does is staring at the angelic sky.

This will be the death of you, as soon as he regains the power over his body, he’ll slice you into pieces. Why? Why are you not strong enough to outstand your pity, why weren’t you able to leave him to his fate? Instead, you find yourself hauling him up a pair of stairs leading into an abandoned cottage you’ve known for years. This is your safe place, your retreat from this cruel world.

And this will be the place you lose your life in.

You fall onto the cold wooden floor the second the door behind both of you is closed, your mouth tasting like iron while coughing up blood. You must be severely injured, given the fact how numb your body starts to feel and how your heart seems to beat slower with every passing minute.

Your eyes catch his shadow next to you, how it builds up into its old frightening gloom. The poison must have worn off, gave him back the ability to move freely. You swallow hard, glossy eyes widened in thick horror.

This will be your end.

“Why did you save me?”

His dark voice sends shivers down your spine, the sheer presence of his powers alone while laying on the floor helplessly almost making you lose your composure.

“I don’t know”, you mumble in response, voice nothing more than a fade away whisper.

His heavy yet light footsteps make the floor vibrate underneath his weight when he crosses the room and comes to a stand in front of you. All you can do is stare at his feet next to your head, waiting for your certain death.

“I’m the upper moon one”, he reminds you.

“And I’m…a hashira…”

You feel the wood next to you give in under his weight as he kneels down next to you, six eyes staring at you intensely. Why…why is he still hesitating? It wouldn’t be hard to kill you in the state you are in, even though the sun now almost fully rose. What a victory, killing another hashira off with ease, coming closer to being the strongest.

Kokushibo can’t help but admire you for the way you still carry yourself with so much pride. Despite the fact that you’ll die within an hour if not treated, despite his sheer presence by your side, your eyes still hold contact with his unwavering. Like in trance he leans forward, lets go of the handle of his sword for the first time since forever. As gentle as his hands remember to move, he places them onto your stomach, watches as your eyes fill with dread. Is he even able to use his powers after all this time ignoring them? He has to try.

The room lights up in red as your body seems to burn alive, a silent scream escaping your lips before you are able to stop it. Out of instinct, you grab on of his hands, hold onto it tightly while waiting for the sharp pain haunting down your body.

But nothing happens. No, it almost feels as if…your pain slowly fades away.

“You…You healed me”, you breathe out in utter disbelief, chest rising and falling so sharply that oxygen refuses to fill your lungs.

Your hands wander around your body rapidly, scan every inch of your busted skin to be greeted by nothing.

“You healed me.”

“You saved me”, he replies briefly, hands still pressed onto your stomach ever so slightly.

Time stands still, the only thing you can think about are his eyes. The eyes that were filled with sorrow when staring into certain death, the eyes that roamed around your body to check for your injuries, the eyes that are now locked with yours.

“Thank you.”

“I need to thank you as well”, he answers calmly.

“I-…”

You don’t know what to say. Is all of this just a dream? This creature, this force of a man kneeling next to you is none other than the upper moon one, the most dangerous demon after Muzan Kibusuji himself. But he didn’t kill you. No, in fact he even healed your severe wounds, saved your life instead of sinking his teeth into you.

He spared you.

Your life was saved by a demon.

“Join the demon slayer corps. Come with me.”

Your words leave your mouth faster than you are able to even think, regret immediately washing over you like a wave. What on earth were you just saying?

“Did you forget how I am?”

“In exchange for saving your life”, you continue.

He just stares at you, eyes widen in sheer surprise. He expected everything when he followed your tracks tonight, the mission Muzan Kibutsuji entrusted Kokushibo with still present in his mind. It was fairly simple: Kill the hashira with the bright orbs, the girl on her way to a nearby village flooded by demons.

But now that he’s sitting right next to you, his hands still resting against your stomach, your heartbeat pounding against his palms, he simply can’t imagine to end your life right here and now. No, the urge to brush his fingertips over your cheek just once, to feel the heat of your skin becomes almost unbearable. Is it because of your innocent eyes, because you saved him despite he injured you severely?

“We live in different worlds, (y/n). It is simply impossible for me to be a part of yours.”

Your stomach drops by the way he says your name, breath getting stuck in your throat. You’ve seen countless demons in your life, always hated every single one with all of your heart. But this man showed you his real face, that he is still human after all these years. Maybe there is still hope, maybe turning into a demon doesn’t have to be a death sentence. Maybe…maybe you’ll be able to save Tanjiro Kamado’s sister.

“Promise that we’ll meet each other again. Promise me that you’ll visit me here right here again soon”, you urge.

“I…”

Kokushibo is los at words, lost in your bright orbs, lost in your tenderness. Not so long ago, he was on his way to end your life violently, to kill you and leave with the arrival of the sun. But now he finds himself right by your side, his mind wandering just by the exciting thought of meeting you again.

“I will visit you again”, he finally gives in.

“Good”, you breathe out.

“Now, tell me a little about yourself. After all, we are trapped here until the sun goes down.”

“I don’t enjoy talking that much.”

“Come on…”

-one year later-

Your eyes gleam in the down-going sun, whole body electrified in excitement. Only a few minutes before the sun is gone, only a few minutes until you finally see him again. As much as you adore the play of colours in the sky just before the sun sets, you started to love the tenderness of the night far more.

Because it means he’s able to walk freely, because it means finally seeing him again.

“There you are, sweetheart.”

Your heart skips a beat, cheeks already heating up before you even turned around. You wrap your arms around his tall figure in an instant, his thumb gently stroking over your forehead.

"I still despise that scar", he states, eyes lost in your sight.

He was the one who did this to you, the one who almost killed you that night.

“That was long ago, Koku, please don't worry about it. I missed you, where have you been?”

There he stands as charismatic as ever, his sheer presence alone signalling nothing but power. You never fail to notice that he’s around no matter where you are, looking after you while fighting off demons. Oh, how much he hates to hide in the shadow, to keep his affection a secret. But there is no way he’ll allow any other upper moon to harm a single hair on your body, let alone Muzan Kibutsuji himself.

Gently, you wrap your arms around him the way he adores so much, rest your head against his chest while he strokes your hair gently.

“I need to keep you save, I am not risking your life over one meeting, (y/n)”, he explains in all seriousness.

“I’d rather die than not seeing you”, you reply with a grin.

“Don’t say that, (y/n)”, he warns you while wrapping his arms tighter around your waist.

Need more? Click here for my Yoriichi x fem!reader fic!

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld @froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @kayleegomez @snowywhiterose @chosomybeloved3

[queers-gambit]

The Battle Above the God’s Eye

part one: Sands of Time

prompt: decades after the Stepstones, it's his turn to be rescued.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 6.3k+

note: i'm not the happiest with this piece, so i'll most definitely (probably) write an alternative when the time comes and the show does the Battle. y'all know me by now, you know i love me a good ol' reader-insert and i didn't want to wait years to publish some kind of sequel so here we are.

warnings: reader isn't explicitly a Targaryen but we had to make this work and i'm burnt the fuck out. so fuck it, dragon rider reader. cursing, books spoilers, violence, imagination required, maybe Red Priestess reader, mention of more Little Birds (let author live), toxic family (duh), heavily encouraged imagination, depictions of death, angst, some hurt and comfort i think ? missing warnings 'cause wonky brain goin' wonky.

"There's rumor, Mistress, of a dragon the color of night," the hooded figure informed. "It nests in the Ruins of Ancient Valyria, seen by farmers and countryfolk; they say his wings beat like thunder. It's a colossal shadow they fear to engage, but after hearing your ransom, they reported it."

You hummed as you took a sip of scalding tea, finding comfort in the heat, musing, "I've been to the Ruins myself on two seperate excursions, I promise you, friend, there is no dragon that nests there."

"It's come from the East, a new beast in the sky."

"I require proof if I am to pay the ransom."

The man with a hood over his head reached for his rucksack and rummaged, a moment later, placing two items on the polished mahogany table between you both. One was unmistakably a dragon's tooth, and when you examined it, there was still clotted blood on the root - assuring it was a fresh pull. The second was a large black scale that weighed at least a dagger's worth.

You smirked, "This is promising. Where in the Ruins has it been seen? Who procured these artifacts?"

You discussed specifics with the man for an hour, offering him a hefty finder's fee after getting the name of the village the man had gathered his own information from. It was a messy journey from there; leaving the home you had made in the decades since the Stepstones to head for what was probably another dead end in Ancient Valyria. You were something akin to a magistrate, the people saw you as a figurehead, a leader; their person of authority who they were all too happy to follow.

Your village flourished, growing in size, number, popularity, and strength by the passing day. The people seemed happy, wealth flowing from exports and trade, and apparently, a few cartographers have begun the process of updating a few maps to add your village's name to history.

Much had changed in your time away from your Rogue Dragon Prince, but you knew that was all coming to an end soon. Your Lord of Light had shown you much in your flames, one of which was a repeating image of you, mounted atop a dragon all your own, soaring over the Narrow Sea with distinct purpose. You weren't a Targaryen, but your religious devotion seemingly gave you the ability to walk amongst beasts and their flames.

Exploring Ancient Valyria took over a year on foot.

You had plenty of encounters with the Stone Men, but all met their merciful demise - those left after that steered clear of you and your Valyrian Steel sword. Around the ruins of the ancient volcano that hadn't erupted since The Doom, you found a graveyard of goat, sheep, and cattle bones. There were bigger skeletons of aquatic creatures, something you found incredibly fascinating - what fully grown dragon went deep diving?

Soon, you found scat. For those who don't spend time in the wilderness or who are simply unfamiliar with the term, "scat" refers to waste produced by wild animals. Yeah, you're reading correctly, after you found the plethora of skeletons, you found dragon shit.

So, you knew you were closer than before. But the fucker still alluded you to the point you felt insane circling the Ruins.

You located about three different potential caverns, investigating them all with caution, but finding them all empty. Feeling exhausted from the months of searching, you claimed one of the caves as your own; hunting for a meal after gathering adequate fire wood. You listened to the untamed wilds of Valyria as you ate whatever you roasted, trying to distinguish familiar sounds of an approaching dragon.

Or perhaps even a distant one!

You'd take any sign!

It'd been weeks since you found the dragon droppings, no other signs appearing. You would search new areas for days, then return to your cave for rest; feeling disconnected from reality the longer you lingered in the ruined empire. You wondering what your village was doing, you were curious if the young woman, Ferona, had a baby boy or girl, if they had erected the new buildings you left blueprints for in an effort to create opportunist housing and houses of worship - as your people had requested.

How did the krill and shrimp season fair? What weddings happened this past spring? How was the irrigation system holding up?

Weeks drug by slowly. Weeks turned to longer months. Two years, you spent in that Gods forsaken ruin of a city - but couldn't find it in you to abandon your search.

Your Lord of Light had yet to send word, yet set your heart ablaze every time you "decided" to go home. You stared into the flames every night, desperate for any indication you were on the right path, but nothing was seen - nothing was said - nothing was shown to you. Until one night, during a torrential downpour and thunderous storm, you were shivering, drenched to your core, fighting the wind to let you keep your flames alive.

And there, in the dying, flickering warmth, you saw it. With wide, unblinking eyes, you stared into the flames harder; unsure how long you remained in the tranquil state before a particularly strong gust of wind nearly pushed you face-first into the embers. You gasped, looking around as the smoke nearly choked you as it filled the cave; stumbling out into the rain as you coughed and patted your chest. Stumbling slightly from malnourishment and delirium, you leaned on the outer shell of your "home", panting with relief before there came a screech so fearsome, you were then cowering into the wall with fear.

You dropped to your knees, huddled into the rock formation; the ground trembling as something enormous touched down. You gasped when through the haze of sideways rain, two nostrils flared and heaved thick plumes of smoke; reddened from the ignited flames deep within an invisible chest. You flattened against the wall, four taloned paws striking the ground and causing it to crack, quake, and tremble. With the fleeting clouds, you used the moon's light to distinguish the beast that loomed closer to you; over you; and then, in your face.

A long, blackened snout nearly pressed into your chest; fabric of your tunic caught in the razor sharp teeth. You had faced death, you had faced beasts, you had faced hacking axes and swinging swords. You had faced the wrath of the Queen Alysanne's court, the rumors of the common folk, and judgment from both man and God. But nothing was like this moment: a wild dragon staring you down, sniffing your chest and stomach, debating if it should just open it's mouth and eat you whole yet or not.

Thankfully, it chose an alternative route.

You're not fully sure how it happened, but you dedicated two years to finding this terrible beasty, and yet, it only took about 6 weeks to bond with the (obviously) young thing. Time with your Dragon Prince proved most useful, creating a bond so secure, you were beginning to wonder if someone deep in your bloodline had mated with a Targaryen. It was natural, the way you both became accustomed to one another; living together on a carbon-dated land long doomed.

The lessons from Daemon came flying back to you. You practiced your High Valyrian, laughing when you obviously got a word or two wrong because the dragon would snort at you. In the light, she was still the color of the night, but her scales were dusted the same gold as her eyes. She was impressive, she was huge in size but nowhere near Vhagar. In fact, you'd wager she had outgrew Caraxes - the only dragon you had true experience with.

Speaking of Caraxes, you were on the shores of Old Valyria, debating how you were going to convince your new companion to join you back "home" in the village, when suddenly, your beast gave a defensive growl.

Looking to the skyline, you spotted the distant dragon and frowned. This dragon wasn't the color of flames like Caraxes was, no, instead, it was a murky blob in the sky with two wings. You offered calming words to your dragon in her native language, not sensing danger, but your beast was unhappy leaving you in the open. Her tail curled around you to corral you back into her body as the muddy brown dragon landed with a thunderous shake a respectable distance away.

Your name was begged by the rider descending from who you recognized as a wild dragon by the name of Sheepstealer.

"Nettles? That you, love?" You asked in skepticism, managing out of your dragon's grasp. "What're you doing here? You all right?"

"I needed to find you," she panted. "I-I need you help - it's all - it's all gone wrong! Please!"

"What's wrong? The fuck's happened?"

"Do you know nothing, Auntie!? Do you know nothing of the war!?"

Your eyes rolled, "Watch that tone with me, girl. The Dance of Dragons is of no concern of mine, it had barely started when I came here."

"Well - it's your concern now," she insisted. "You took me under your wing - you helped raise me in a village you built from the ground, despite not ever needing to - "

"Your mother was a dear friend of mine," you cut her off sharply. "She was kind to me when I came back to Essos, let me stay with her and your father. When I set out on my own, she was always a friendly face, and when my settlement was established..."

"She came to you for help after getting pregnant with me," Nettles nodded. "You've told me this before."

"Then you should know better by now that I owed your mother more than my life, so, raising you was the least I could've done. A life for a life."

"And as such, you let me go into the world with stories filling my head of a handsome Dragon Prince that saved you from the Crabfeeder!" You scoffed at her words, ready to argue, but she rushed, "He's in trouble, Auntie."

You paused, finding no lie in the girl's eye. Slowly, you asked, "Come again?"

"I found him, Mistress," she nodded. "After I got back to Westeros, I found your Prince Daemon - the ones from the stories! He's... He's brutish and harsh, they call him Rogue, but he was kind to me when I told him I knew you. When he heard your name, Lady, he just - he insisted on keeping me close. He protected me, even against his wife - Princess Rhaenyra."

Your head cocked, "Hmm... He usually did have a taste for younger flesh. I'm not surprised he took to you - "

"No, no, no, Mistress, not like that," she insisted desperately. "He was kind, educational - similar to a mentor."

"I see."

"He needs your help."

"Prince Daemon does not need rescuing, he is no damsel."

"He searches for Prince Aemond," she informed, making you lift your chin slightly. Though lost in the wild of Valyria the past two years, you were still well versed in the affairs of King's Landing; staying updated, curtesy of your Lord, the Lord of Light: R'hllor. In your village, you were known to pay for any accurate information - eventually hiring your own spies to relay trustworthy information from around surrounding cities and villages. Nettles was one of your Little Birds.

You sighed, "And? What of it - Aemond killed Lucerys, did he not? Since he married his niece, her children are now his step-children, right? Daemon is within his rights to want some form of vengeance - it's war, Nettie, it's never fair to anybody.

"He will not survive this, you don't understand! It's horrible, Mistress, please, he-he-he's deranged. Mad with grief, lost to his wife's useless fucking war. It'll be the death of him, Auntie, please!" She paused, seeing you just stare back at her; so she begged again, "Please!"

You nodded, "What do you want me to do, Nettie? Hmm?"

"You've told me those stories! I remember them well! You always said he came back for you, saved you from The Crabfeeder," she reminded, making you stiffen. "Does he not deserve the same? Or at least a chance? Rhaenyra will not help, she'll kill him herself I fear, but you can - you can help!"

You nodded, "I will consult the flames - "

"I am telling you - "

"I have heard you, girl!" You snapped, glaring at your Little Bird. "But there are greater forces at work than what you know, I cannot just so willfully trust the word of a child before flying off across the Narrow Sea. Allow me my time with my Lord, I will have an answer for you." Turning from her, you gathered whatever materials you could; setting it up in a small teepee before stepping back.

In High Valyrian, you gave your command. From over your shoulder, your beasty opened her mouth and shot a single flame at the structure.

On your knees, you muttered repeatedly; chanting, summoning your Lord of Light to come to you now in a great hour of need. And He did. Through the flames, you saw what R'hllor wanted to show you: the two Princes engaged in a brutally epic fight that would claim them both in the end...

Unless you left right that moment, as your Lord commanded.

"Make yourself safe, Nettles, go back home," you told her in a rush, catching the pouch of Gold Dragons she tossed you when you sprung into action - and for the first time, mounted your dragon. Like your minds were connected, the Great Shadow took to the sky - leaving Nettles and Sheepstealer behind, and you'd never see either again.

You remained high in the sky, being a blob to the naked eye should any dare to stare at the sun.

You only paused to let the Great Shadow dive into the Narrow Sea for a meal; surfacing with creatures in her jaws as you swam an exhausting broad stroke. Was it terrifying to swim in the open water? Absolutely, but your dragon seemingly kept any threats at bay. When she was satisfied with her meal, the Great Shadow scooped you onto her back and relaunched into the air again to continue your flight for Westeros. You both dried in the air.

The trip was draining.

It was grueling on you both.

Yet when you saw the distant shore, you couldn't help the spike of relief in your heart and veins.

Once in Westeros, you were forced to ground yourselves in the open area of the Stormlands because you needed to know where to go since Nettles hadn't been sure where to send you specifically. Using the usual thunderstorm as cover, you had to separate from the Great Shadow; leaving her in the dark as you ventured to the closest village.

With the pouch of Gold Dragons Nettles gave you, you paid for information that you needed. You were told all the nitty gritty details about the Dance of the Dragons that you've missed, understanding what (Nettles and) the Lord of Light had been trying to tell you for years: the Black Queen would be Prince Daemon's death.

The time had come for you to return his favor from the Stepstones. If this worked the way you wanted it to, you wouldn't be his first, second, nor third wife, but his fourth and final. You knew what you had to do.

"What do you know of their whereabouts?" You asked the innkeeper who wiped down the bar you leaned on.

"The Princes?" She asked, tisking right after. "The One Eyed Prince has been burning the Riverlands for almost two weeks now. The Rogue Prince was in Maidenpool but he's called his nephew to meet him at, uh, oh... Oh, bullocks, what's that haunted castle? The one that was torched?"

"Harrenhal?"

She snapped her fingers at you, "That's the one!"

"Fuckin' Hell," you muttered, wiping your eyes. "What's your thinking, love? 'Bout this war?"

She scoffed, rolling her eyes, "Stupidest thing I've endured so far. How silly, the House of the Dragon does not know who rules it, or so says our liege lord. So we must all pay their price in Fire and Blood."

You nodded slowly, "Who do you think holds the better claim t'the Throne?"

"Depends on your views," she muttered, "but in truth, it doesn't matter to me - so long as this all comes to an end. But between us?" She leaned in, glancing around before muttering, "The Bitch Queen would burn us all. Can't say if King Aegon would be much better, but at least we'd know what we were dealing with."

"And if he was another Maegor?"

"Can't be worse than the Black Queen. Hear they call her Maegor with Tits."

You smirked, chuckling lightly, "Thank you, ma'am, for your words." You offered her a few Gold Dragons, repeating, "Harrenhal?"

"Harrenhal," she nodded, accepting the payment. "I do not know if the One Eyed Prince will answer the Rogue Prince's challenge, but that is where he lures Prince Aemond - Harrenhal. Now, how's about a nice bowl of stew? You look drenched, love, and a bit skinny - you been eatin'?"

"Your kindness is refreshing in this shit-for-a-kingdom."

You winked at her and tapped the bar in parting before turning for the door, and into the rain you ventured once more. You didn't notice the cold, your Lord kept you warm and moving; finding the Great Shadow, mounting, and shooting off into the unknown sky again.

It wasn't easy directing a dragon without a saddle nor any stabilizing reins, yet your beast was something of a decently smooth fly. You minimally directed her as you went, but in truth, her instincts directed you both more than anything. When the storm broke, you were soon flying over charred scores of land; homes smoldering and burning, the wind spreading the embers and never letting the fire fully die out.

"The fuck..." You muttered, sitting up straight as you flew through the carnage. "Seven Hells, he burnt it all, didn't he?" You whispered, needing to hold onto the spinal ridges of your dragon to keep balanced. "Gods be good," you gaped at the damage beneath you.

The sun moved into position, getting ready to set when you heard the horrible screams of feuding dragons. You couldn't see Harrenhal yet, but you heard the fight, and then, as the sun began to set, there came flashes of bright firelight that lit the sky to a new level.

It was nearly the shade of daylight with the way the flames danced against the setting sun. You were desperate to get closer, and after directing the Great Shadow over a set of charred rolling hills, you finally had Harrenhal in sight. "Go! Go, please! That's them - we need t'get there!" You begged through a small sob of panic, and if possible, your dragon flew all the faster.

You were so close, yet felt so far.

The air trembled when the pair of dragons, Vhagar and Caraxes, collided in the sky once more. They grappled and snarled and shrieked and blew flames and gnashed their teeth and slashed their talons. You paid no mind to the pregnant woman standing on the shoreline of the lake they fought over, and instead, focused on your task; feeling as if you were moving on pure instinct and adrenaline.

The Great Shadow dove low to the lake's surface as Caraxes and Vhagar came barreling to the ground. It all happened too fast. As the two dragons fell, you saw one man - in black armor - leap from his crimson beast with his Valyrian sword winking in the dying light. Just as his arm extended to pierce Dark Sister into Aemond's blind eye, the dragons were tussling enough to turn over and forced Daemon off their hide.

You gasped as you reacted - no fucking thought to your actions.

As the Great Shadow glided over the surface of the Gods Eye lake, you were leaping off her back to launch into the air; tackling the Rogue Prince hard enough to disrupt his impact on the water's surface. You hit the water all the same, but instead of it being like hitting fresh pavement, it was a softer landing due to the Great Shadow's expert and quick maneuvering.

Two dragons hit the water, three human bodies; sending a wave of water higher than the towers of Harrenhal's fortress. It was a shock to land in something so wet and cold, but your adrenaline was stronger than any feeling of freezing water. Your arms kept an iron-clad lock around Daemon's unconscious waist, surfacing as the lake rippled and churned from impact; turning a seeping red from the open wounds on the dragon sinking into the depths.

Prince Aemond never surfaced, and years from now, he'd be found still chained to Vhagar's saddle with Dark Sister still stabbed through his skull. His Red Witch standing on shore couldn't save him, it appearing that your Lord preferred the Rogue Prince to the One Eyed.

Keeping Daemon afloat was difficult, but to your shock, you were being gently propelled forward to the shore by a fatally injured Caraxes. You encouraged him best you could, trying not to choke on the water splashing around your frantic forms. When you were able, you started heaving and dragging Daemon up the lake's embankment; the crimson dragon crawling out of the lake behind you, slowly, heading towards Harrenhal. You wanted to offer the loyal beast aid or comfort, but you were much too preoccupied with his master that was dead weight in the water's surf.

You trembled as you swiftly hoisted his dragon winged helmet off to leave bobbing in the surf; unhooked his armor, shucking it off him and compressing his chest rapidly - just like a fisherman taught you to do.

"C'mon," you grunted. "C'mon, Daemon, breathe - fucking breathe, damnit! Please, come back to me - don't do this. I just found you again, c'mon, my Prince, breathe. Breathe, Daemon, don't give up - not now, not on us! Don't give up on us, c'mon, my Prince, breathe, w-we finally have our time." Sobs wracked your form. "Breathe, Daemon, please! Please! I'm back - I finally found you, please, my love, breathe!"

You shoved harder into his breast bone with increased ferocity until water came suddenly spewing from his lungs. You heard the Great Shadow land in the near distance, turning Daemon on his side to help him breathe better; choking the water out. You spoke in relief, "There, there you go, c'mon, love, breathe! Thank fucking Gods, you're all right, you're okay, get it out - you're okay, just breathe, my love."

Daemon choked your name in pure disbelief, holding one of your wrists in a vice grip that only briefly concerned you. He panted and relaxed into the embankment, loosening his grip as he turned over to look up at you in shock and wonder. "How is this possible?" He wheezed.

"It's a bit of a long story," you teased softly, caressing his cheek. "Bit of a boring tale, 'M afraid."

"How? How is - how can this be?"

"You needed me," you explained, "thought I'd return the favor since you saved me all those years ago, huh? You got me out of the sea, I got you out of the lake - we're even, yeah?"

He still panted, only staring at you as if he couldn't believe himself. "You've not aged a day," he whispered.

You smiled, petting his cheekbone with your thumb daintly. "You need rest, reprieve, aid," you whispered.

"No, no," he gulped, "not when I just got you back. T-Tell me 's done. Tell me we're done being apart."

"You have a wife still, Daemon. She won't let you go, she wouldn't let us be together."

"Tell me what your flames say."

"Now you trust my flames?"

"When they bring you back to me, yes - oh, fuck yes, I'll believe whatever those fucking flames say. Please, love, for us - consult your flames, tell me what they've said."

You frowned, petting a soaking wet lock of hair from his forehead. Quietly, you whispered, "My Lord showed me what was to pass if I did not come for you... This war, this Dance of Dragons, would claim your life, Daemon. Your wife, your niece... She'll be the end of you, my Prince. You will not survive if you go back to her. Neither of you will survive this... My Lord has shown me that Rhaenyra will meet her end in flames, but following her will cost you your life in water," you glanced at the lake. "Not a death befitting of a Targaryen Prince."

"And now?"

"Now, she will fight her own battles for the first time," you whispered, "and I will return home, and you will make a choice."

He smirked, "We've gone lifetimes apart, like you said before."

"We have."

"I would not go another day," he coughed, wincing in pain. "I do not think I can fight anymore anyways, love. Please... Please."

Daemon never begged. You swallowed harshly, asking him, "No? No more fighting?"

"No," he agreed. "'M so tired, my sweet. I-I can't do this forever," he half-slurred, making you perk up slightly in attention. "Retirement sounds all too appealing now. Rumor will spread that neither Aemond or I lived, it'll be the perfect escape."

You nodded in agreement, flinching when a new voice screeched, "YOU BITCH!"

The pregnant woman you saw on shore stormed towards you, making you chuckle dryly as you had already foreseen this Alys Rivers - pregnant concubine of the One Eyed Prince Aemond and fellow Follower of R'hllor. Alys was unique in the sense that her training was decent enough to ensnare Aemond (it seemed), but not so decent that the Lord yet favored her.

She wasn't more than ten feet from you when the Great Shadow opened her mouth and showered the Red Witch in holy flames; an end she surely did not see coming - not that R'hllor would've showed her. This all caught Daemon's attention, who flinched slightly when he had to turn and look; not expecting the flames nor the beast.

Then his eyes drifted over the land, breathing hitching, and he sat up with a painful groan. "Daemon," you worried, but instead of trying to get him down, you helped him up.

You knew what he saw.

When at Caraxes' side, you helped Daemon lower to his knees at his dragon's head. He whimpered and moaned, belly slashed open, wing torn apart; bleeding out into the cold soil he rested on. The Great Shadow moaned gently in sympathy, lowering herself around you three to let you grieve in peaceful, protective privacy and ease Caraxes to his next life.

The moon was fully in the sky when the crimson bloodwyrm took his final breath with the ebony giant's flames to warm you all. You weren't sure what could be done, but Daemon was pressing a tender kiss to his dragon's head before turning to face you - a lost, confused, vulnerable look coating his features. "Come on, love," you eased gently, helping him to his feet; knowing a few ribs were shattered and probably his clavicle, too.

"Where will we go now?"

"Well, I have somewhere safe for us t'live," you grunted in assurance, wobbling a little under his weight. "But we need rest for tonight. Any ideas?"

"I doubt anyone will venture to Harrenhal this night, should be safe..."

You agreed, and together, you and Daemon settled in the empty castle with the Great Shadow resting on the outskirts of the Keep. She was too big for the interior of the courtyard, so, she was left outside with Caraxes' corpse as you and Daemon settled in the room he had commandeered.

"How is this possible? How can you be here?" He asked, holding your hips as you worked between his spread legs. Daemon had minimal supplies at the ready; hopping up on a work bench to let you care for his injuries and wounds. He watched your every move with a softening look. "I thought I wouldn't ever see you again, that I'd be cursed to only remember you in my dreams. Rhaenyra said I say your name a lot at night, when I sleep."

"I'm really here, Daemon, ease yourself," you offered an assuring grin, tending to the head wounds he obtained from the fight.

"How?"

"Nettles."

"What?"

"Nettles," you repeated with a smirk. "She's one of my Little Birds, Daemon. It was not entirely coincidence she found you..."

"So she said," he frowned. "But how - "

"She told me you needed me," you smiled softly. "And when I consulted the flames, I was shown what could be. I made a decision, I just wanted you safe, no matter what that meant."

"I just want you. Fuck," he seethed, squeezing your hips, "'s been fucking decades since I've even touched you."

"You're delirious," you teased. "Sleep deprived, maybe concussed."

"Perhaps all at once, but I finally have all I've dreamt of. Please," he whispered, "do not deny us longer. I've endured lifetimes - "

"Daemon, being here and now, you know I can't walk away. But we've time t'talk it all out, I need you to let me help your wounds - so sit still."

He nodded, "One thing I do not understand, though - the dragon? How did you...?"

"Spent two years in Valyria, looking for her."

"Why were you there?"

"Searching for a dragon, of course," you smirked. "She's impressive, isn't she? And from her size, I wager she can easily support us both back across the Narrow Sea."

He grit his teeth when you cleaned his open cuts and wounds, wrapping whatever clean cloth you had around the larger wounds; easing him out of his tunic to have better access to the blackened ribs he sported. "Would you tell me?" Daemon whispered some time later.

"Of what?"

"Your life since the Stepstones?"

"Oh," you chuckled, "sweet love, you know it was dreadfully boring without you."

"Doesn't seem it, you being in Valyria two years? That's not heard of, what was it like? How'd you survive? Why go looking for a dragon?"

This lead to you both laying in bed, hands held together, resting, but not sleeping. You just spoke quietly, fingertips tracing idly over each other's faces; sharing in each others lives that the other missed, reminiscing together in fond memories.

When morning broke, you had to move swiftly. Caraxes was left where he laid and after a final parting to the loyal beast and commandeering his saddle, together, you and Daemon mounted the Great Shadow. She wasn't a fan of the restraints, but once you and Daemon were mounted, she did not fuss as it was evident you humans had an easier time with the leather contraption.

"I must confess," Daemon whispered in your ear, using you as an anchor and leaning into your back, "I fear I might feel something akin to guilt for fleeing home."

"That's natural," you assured, "you're leaving family behind, 's never easy."

"There was no winning this war," he admitted, sighing. "I lead so many to their death... Destroyed my family - "

"From what I have heard, this is not your doing," you argued sharply. "That night, when Aemond attacked Lucerys, what were you to do? Leave that kind of atrocity without consequence? No, that is not in the Targaryen's nature. You did not start this war, Daemon."

"But I knew..."

"You knew what?"

"I knew Jace, Luke, and Joffrey were Harwin Strong's, not Laenor Velaryon's. We thought if we married her sons to my daughters, nobody would care much else about lineage - but we were wrong."

"It's okay to be wrong," you promised, leaning your head back to let your forehead rest against his temple. "It's okay to make mistakes or have regret. Tell me, do you wish to return to your wife? I will take you now, no quest - "

"No. No, I do not wish to leave you. This is... This is Rhaenyra's war, I've done my part. I'm free and finally with whom I belong."

"Now it's time to heal," you told him.

"Time to rest," he agreed, squeezing your waist and placing a few kisses to your neck. "This is where I should've been all this time... After the Stepstones, I should've stayed with you, none of this would've come to pass. I regret leaving you everyday - "

"I told you, for us to get here, to this point, now, we had to separate. But look where we are," you smiled back at him, the Great Shadow soaring higher in the sky to keep Westeros at a distance, "we will not be apart again. 'S you and me, love... Until our end, which we will greet together."

Daemon's lips found yours at long last, whispering, "Together," against them before sweeping his tongue against yours.

The port was lovely this time of day, sun high in the sky to give light to the fishermen and vendors hard at work. Sailors made port, calms were being shucked, different Aristocats trying to barter and trade on their journeys abroad. You smiled at the people you passed, grateful to be home after a prolonged absence; arm looped tight with Daemon's as you both strolled the pier.

"It's hard to imagine you've done all this in a lifetime or less," he mused, a hand folded over yours, dressed in the best clothes you could find. "It's s marvel, my sweet," his compliment was sincere.

"Thank you," you whispered, hugging his arm as your skirts swished around your ankles, just tickling your bare feet. "This season's expected to be bountiful," you told him, pointing to the various teams bringing crustaceans, fish, and other sea life in different crates and traps. "I expect there won't be much of an off-season."

He glanced around, "And you don't collect taxes?"

"Why would I?" You scoffed. "We're more dynamic than that. Everyone works for their place, if you wanted to think of it that way. They are not expected to contribute, but the village seems happier that way. Being close knit, helping one another, sharing wealth. No one person has complained, so, I figure it's working so far. Even if it didn't work, I still wouldn't charge them taxes - it'd be like charging them to live. Always seemed silly t'me."

"Morning, Mistress!"

"Morning, Don," you beamed, leading Daemon towards the dock. "How are you, kind sir? Looks as if you've been working all day already."

"Aye, up before the sun," he nodded, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. "Wanted t'thank yah, actually."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, yeah, with that dragon? We're hauling in more ships," he chuckled, and just overhead, the Great Shadow glided over them all to head out to sea to fetch another round of ships. "Gets us out there quick, brings us back when done, 's like a wee bit of an assembly line, ain't it?"

You chuckled, "Sounds like it, friend. Uh, Don, have I introduced you to my husband?"

"Husband?" Don grinned, cocking his head, "No, Mistress, I wasn't aware you even had a suitor. Mariam don't tell me much gossip these days," he snickered, referring to his wife. "It's nice t'meet you," he told Daemon, "name's Don, just Don - no, it ain't short for nothin'."

Daemon smirked some, shaking the man's fishy hand boldly, "A pleasure, Don, Just Don."

"Oh, this one's got a bit uh humor, don't he?" Don laughed lightly. "What's your name, lad?"

"Daemon?" A voice answered for you all, and just above you, a little further on the pier, stood an aged Laenor Velaryon.

"Excuse us, Don," you spoke swiftly, confusion marring your features. He understood or sensed the slight tension, backing off to let you approach the "dead" knight.

"Oh, my - Y/N," Laenor breathed, another aged man at his side with what you assume to be his children. No question could be asked yet as your old friend launched himself into your arms, laughing merrily, giving you a tight squeeze with his still-toned arms. "Oh, the Gods are good for this!" He laughed, rocking you slightly, "Oh, how the Seven bless us."

"You're so dramatic," you laughed back, patting him happily until he pulled back. "But I must confess, I am so fucking confused - what is this? How are you here? I thought you died, Laenor, that's what ever spy reported."

"They should've," he nodded, glancing at Daemon, "but perhaps, the explanation will be better received after some wine?" He caressed your cheek in affection before looking at your husband, nodding, "It's good to see you again, my Prince. Or is it King Consort?"

"Neither, just Daemon," he corrected, your heart soaring a little at the idea that he would abandon his title so easily. Yet you knew, there was nothing to go back to for him.

"Well, how about I introduce my family?"

"Family?" You grinned, seeing him present the others.

"My husband," he gestured, giving his name. "And our kids," he introduced the other three.

"How?" You asked simply.

"We found a Red Priest who was willing to officiate the ceremony," Laenor explained, "and the kids were sired by different mothers, too."

"Whores," the husband smiled.

"Huh," you nodded in impression. "Well, perhaps wine is best to hear that tale, as well?"

"Perhaps," Laenor grinned. "Uh, but first, we should find accommodations - "

"Oh, come off it, you're staying with us," you waved. "Your belongings?"

"This is it," he half-shrugged, you eyeing the few rucksacks around their feet, neck, shoulders... "We heard of the prosperity here, thought it was worth the move."

"How right you are," Daemon answered. "Come, old friend." He picked up a few sacks for the kids and you looped your arm with Laenor's to lead the way. How good it was to have your friend back, your husband at your side, and a functioning, happy village with your placement amongst them most important... Everything you could've wished for, it seemed, came true.

And in your womb, a Dragon Seed was planted; soon to make its announcement known. Truly, a happier ending than you thought deserved - but R'hollr worked mysteriously, blessing those deemed worthy to spread his flames.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

note: i'm not the happiest with this piece, so i'll most definitely (probably) write an alternative when the time comes and the show does the Battle. y'all know me by now, you know i love me a good ol' reader-insert and i didn't want to wait years to publish some kind of sequel so here we are.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

if I remember right, a year or two ago you made a list of recommendations for the Edinburgh Fringe. Any recommendations for this year? Already got Steffan on the list, obviously

I did! Okay, okay, here's what I've got this year. Caveat: I personally have not been up there yet (I'm going in a few days), but these are things I saw in preview/have heard great things about.

Steffan Alun: Free Standup, but at What Cost

Venue 156: PBH's Free Fringe @ Banshee Labyrinth - Banquet Hall, 21.30-22.30

Back again! Eighth Fringe, this. The show is an hour, but that includes a 15 minute warm-up act, then Steff for 45 mins. He does this so that reviewers won't come and ruin the vibe.

Anyway this year he talks a bit about being Welsh and how he is therefore grumpy with Bristolian Tesco self-checkout machines

.

Jake Baker: Rule Breaker!

Venue 78: PBH's Free Fringe @ Canons' Gait - Lower, 16.30-17.30

I love Jake, he's lovely. He's a gentle soul and has an excellent delivery style; very warm and deceptively witty. Normally he goes with Just The Tonic and is given a searing hot basement in the sky that smells of mould for a room, but this year he's in Canons' Gait, which is much much nicer.

His blurb: A rule-breaker, a risk taker, a wave-maker and a convention-shaker – all phrases never before used to describe Jake Baker. But when a frustrating game of Alan Turing-themed Monopoly leaves him questioning the laws of the game, he finds himself turning that analytical impulse to bigger things.

.

Stephanie Laing: Rudder

Venue 300: Underbelly, George Square - The Wee Coo, 14.50-15.50

This show is particularly Tumblr-friendly, actually; it's described as 'neurodiversity-led'. However, it's a show with a content warning, although all the ticket page is saying is "themes" (insert Stephen Fry meme here); so, <SPOILER> she talks about withdrawing consent while sleeping with a FIB, and him continuing anyway. She talks about it in a very gentle way, avoiding Big Words, and it's very heavy on aftercare </SPOILER>

Her blurb: A comedy dance show about balance. Stephanie has a history of falling over a lot, accidentally kneeing herself in the face, and falling in love with total kn*bheads. In this show she uses a mixture of stand-up and dance to talk about bodies, sex, dancing, liking yourself, consent and healing. Also, there are cartoon bears and burlesque.

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Erin McKinnie: The Faff Chronicles

Venue 108: Hoots @ The Apex - Hoot 4, 16.50-17.50

An Edinburgh local! Good solid standup for those who like such things. New-ish, but one to watch, she's very good. Don't be surprised to see her take off

Her blurb: What a faff! Erin McKinnie, a rising star on the Scottish comedy circuit, talks about faffing through early adulthood – from rogue adventures to living the "below-deck life" on cruise ships – she finds the funny in every bizarre encounter in this uplifting show that asks: Do we really need a life plan? Or... are we all just winging it? A brilliant, snort-worthy giggle-fest about exiting your 20s, facing life indecision and chasing answers for those big questions, all the while trying to convince your mother that this is a real job...

.

Alexander Bennett: Emotional Daredevil

Venue 24: Gilded Balloon Patter House - Coorie, 18.20-19.20

Dark feelings show with a really positive, optimistic message and a fun concept. It uses audience participation, but that's not compulsory, you're safe.

Blurb: I'm the emotional daredevil, and for my next feat, I need someone's help. A show about risk, for the unsatisfied and traumatised, from a Chortle Award nominee

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Alex Franklin: Gurl Code

Venue 61: Underbelly, Cowgate - Delhi Belly, 20.25-21.25

Alex does a fun thing each year where she takes her publicity budget and rather than spending it on publicity, she hides it somewhere in Edinburgh and then reveals a clue to its location every day. This tells you something about her, I think

Her blurb: In 2024, trans girl Alex (me) started HRT. Now she (me) feels the most alive she's (me's) ever felt; and she wants to make you feel alive too, or die trying. A ludicrous, musical, chaotic, joyful show about the colours of the world becoming slowly brighter and giving people furniture via the tube. Also being trans.

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Character Building Experience

Venue 49: Bedlam Theatre - Bedlam Theatre, 20.00-21.00

It's a D&D show - the MC Sasha Ellen makes a bunch of 40-minute simple campaigns and a selection of pre-rolled characters to do them, and then gets three comedians each time to play them. You know the drill. Good quality fun, and different each time, since you'll never see the same campaign/comedian mix.

.

2 Truths, 1 Lie

Multiple venues and times (search the EdFringe app or website to see them all), but I recommend catching the 3pm show on either the 25th or 26th August at Venue 108: Hoots @ The Apex - Hoot 1 for reasons I shall not share here (ooh, mysterious)

Fun panel-like show! Often MC'd by Steff, especially if you catch one of the 3pm shows. The format is:

Three comedians each declare a statement. Two are true, but one comedian is lying. The MC doesn't know the liar, nor does the audience. The audience gets to ask questions of the comedians; at the end, they vote on who they think the liar is.

(The prize for winning is a smug sense of satisfaction.)

.

Anyway, once I'm up there I will possibly have more, but currently, that's my list

[felassan]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard - known Character Creation info Part 2

[LINK TO PART 1] <- since I hit the character limit in that post I had to make a Part 2 ^^;

This post is just another dump collection of info and snippets that came out about CC (& some related topics). if you’ve been following the news or reading posts here, it’s not new info or anything, I just put it together in one place here for convenience. ( ˶´ ᵕ `˶ )

if you notice anything missing, pls lmk. there’s a bit of repetition of info in places as prev posts (including Part 1) on the topic overlapped.

---

Although non-natural hair colors like blue and purple are available for Rook in the CC, all NPCs in the game have natural hair colors [source]

A user asked if there are instances wherein Rook will be referred to by their last name. “Yes, there are places where we refer to Rook by their last name. It’s very contextual - we don’t want to awkwardly insert a reference in where it doesn’t make sense - but it does happen, though it is going to be more common with some backgrounds than others.” [source: the official BioWare Discord]

You can have body tattoos [source: the official BioWare Discord]

A user stated “There are no restrictions on lineage/faction/class combinations other than dwarves cannot be mages”. Corinne added “Correct." [source: the official BioWare Discord]

Q. “Will the gender identity of a trans/non-binary Rook be acknowledged in game by other characters? (beyond just pronouns I mean)”. A. “There are moments when you can disclose and discuss, however, disclosure remains the right of the individual so you have to make that choice for yourself. [source: the official BioWare Discord]

Q. “Will we get the option to give our Rook more fantastical hair colors, like purple, blue, pink?”. A. “Yes” [source: the official BioWare Discord]

Q. “How about heterochromatic eyes?” A. “Yes” [source: the official BioWare Discord]

Q. ’‘Will I be able to make a short qunari and a tall dwarf or are there limits to that? Do the qunari have to be buff?“ A. ’'There are limitations, of course… but yes, you can make a Dwarf that is tall or a Qunari that is short, relative to their lineage. We stan the skinny Qunari” [source: the official BioWare Discord]

the armors mesh and mold to every body [source: the official BioWare Discord]

In CC you can customize things like shoulder width, chest size, glute size, hip width, how bloodshot your eyes are, nose crookedness, and more [source: the Game Informer cover story article, DA:TV spoiler warning for link]

There are hundreds of sliders for body proportions [source: the Game Informer cover story article, DA:TV spoiler warning for link]

CC detail: “Features like skin hue, tone, melanin” [source: the Game Informer cover story article, DA:TV spoiler warning for link]

There is nudity in DA:TV, “which I learned firsthand while customizing my Rook” in CC [source: the Game Informer cover story article, DA:TV spoiler warning for link]

Rook’s backstory also affects “reputation standing”, along with the other previously-known things like in-game dialogue etc [source: the Game Informer cover story article, DA:TV spoiler warning for link]

The 4 voices we can choose for Rook each have a pitch shifter in CC [source: the Game Informer cover story article, DA:TV spoiler warning for link]

The devs used the DA:TV CC to make each in-world NPC, except for specific characters like companions [source: the Game Informer cover story article, DA:TV spoiler warning for link]

If you play as e.g. a qunari Rook, the camera adjusts to ensure larger characters like them loom over those below. The camera also adjusts appropriately for dwarves to demonstrate their smaller stature [source: the Game Informer cover story article, DA:TV spoiler warning for link]

If you are playing, e.g., a qunari, and you encounter elfy stuff, you might be missing unique dialogue options and an elf Rook would have more to say at that point [source: the Game Informer cover story article, DA:TV spoiler warning for link]

Twitter user: “Please please please let me make a feminine shaped body with no chest, begging for non-binary to be something I can present not just a pronoun slap”. Saira: “this will be entirely possible with the body sliders!” [source]

“Last names are based on your faction. You can customize your first name, however.” [source: the official BioWare Discord]

“In-world - Rook is a nickname you’re given before the events of the game, and it’s what everyone refers to you as. It allows for other characters to refer to you in dialogue without awkwardly having to write around not having a defined title, while still allowing for name customization.” Also, in the game, it is explained why we got the nickname Rook in the past. [source: the official BioWare Discord]

“There are specific lines and dialogue options for different lineages, as well as different backgrounds, and classes, including at least a handful that are unique to lineage/background combinations. No specifics but we wanted to make sure the game felt reactive to the choices you made in creating your Rook.” [source: the official BioWare Discord]

A user asked whether elven Rook is Dalish or City. Answer: “It’ll depend on your background. As mentioned previously, certain lineages will have variations of that background that go into more detail where appropriate.” [source: the official BioWare Discord]

“Without getting into spoiler territory - Rook’s a hero because they chose to be, not because they were chosen. Your choice of background fills in some of the details - and you get opportunities to define it further - but some things we leave up to you to fill in.” [source: the official BioWare Discord]

Twitter user: “Is Rook a nickname or their actual name?” Michael Gamble: “Nickname. The thing that people call you on the game.” [source]

“Oh just wait. The hair tech is phenomenal in this. Even I was thinking "aye is this a Bioware game!?” lol.“ [source]

“One thing I’m particularly happy about and can’t get over is how much better the hair rendering is. It might be a small thing to some but it looks incredible. It’s in another stratosphere compared to DAI.” [source]

“Everyone in the previews was gushing about how robust the CC is in Veilguard so there might be a decent chance to make some wild Qunari designs.” [source]

The 9 specs Rook can be (3 for each class) are:

Warrior - Champion, Reaper, Slayer Rogue - Duelist, Saboteur, Veil Ranger Mage - Death Caller, Evoker, Spellblade [more info here]

Update with new/further info up until June 27th:

Each spec is tied to a faction [source]. the faction each spec is tied to is as follows:

Mage: Death Caller - Mourn Watch Evoker - Shadow Dragons Spellblade - Antivan Crows Rogue: Duelist - Antivan Crows Veil Ranger - Veil Jumper Saboteur - Lords of Fortune Warrior: Champion - Grey Wardens Reaper - Mourn Watch Slayer - Lords of Fortune [source]

Magic “remains elusive” to dwarven Rooks [source]

“Lemmy from Motorhead” beards [source]

A user asked if they could see pics of the CC. Corinne: “If only I could. But hold tight, you’ll all be sharing your lovely creations with me soon enough 💜” [source]

A user asked “Please tell me we finally get black clothing and/or armor?” Corinne: “There are many gorgeous fits. Just you wait 😉” [source]

User: “Fingers crossed we can play as Qunari again!” Corinne: “You can and they are ✨💅” [source]

"SO many options and beautiful hair choices and very intricate skin details" [source]

"It really felt like they were trying to be very careful in making sure they had good representation with hair textures and not gender locking anything, it was all about choice. The devs put lot of care and thought into it" [source]

In CC we will be able to customize qunari Rook’s horn type and material [source]

There are “hundreds of options” in CC [source]

Selecting Rook’s faction is the penultimate step in CC [source]

The Lords of Fortune are pirated-themed [source]

Each faction has unique casual wear worn in specific cutscenes when the character isn’t wearing armor [source]

Each faction has 3 unique traits, e.g. for Lords of Fortune, they gain additional reputation with this particular faction, have increased damage versus mercenaries, and perform takedowns on enemies with slightly less effort [source]

“Faction selection, which ties into your character’s backstory, determines who your Rook was before, how they met Varric, why they travel with Varric instead of their faction, and more” [source]

Rook’s appearance can be changed using the Mirror of Transformation in the Lighthouse, but not their class, lineage and "identity" [source]

The unique faction-based casual wears are "very pretty” ^^ [source]

CC has sliders for width and height on pretty much every body part [source]

BioWare said “they worked with Black consultants to ensure they got hairstyles and textures right and authentic for masculine and feminine options” [source]

CC is expansive, robust, rich; BioWare’s best yet. At its heart is inclusivity [source]

BioWare used it to create most of the NPCs in the game, main chars like companions aside [source]

When browsing through the presets, the game allows for more detailed looks at each [source]

Pronoun choice is separate to gender identity choice [source]

Different body types available [source]

Before exiting CC Rook can be viewed in 4 different lighting scenes at any time, “including The Veilguard’s keynote purple hue, a bright and sunny tropical day, and a gothic night”. The team worked hard to quash the issues caused by the green lighting in DA:I’s CC [source]

Head and body presets can be selected individually and customized [source]

40 different complexions including smooth, rugged, youthful, freckled [source]

Skin hues range from cool to neutral to warm [source]

Undertones to these skin tones [source]

Melanin slider [source]

BioWare engaged consultation to represent people authentically

Vitiligo slider (intensity and amount adjustable) [source]

Sliders for forehead, brow, cheeks, jaw, chin, larynx and scalp [source]

Selectable undergarments, with nudity [source]

The “Body Morpher” involves “select[ing] three presets for each corner of a triangle and then mov[ing] a cursor within it to morph your body or head into a mix of these presets” [source]

Adjust height, shoulder width, chest size, glute and bulge size, hip width, how bloodshot your eyes are, how visible cataracts are, the sclera color, how crooked your nose is, how big its bridge is, the size of nostrils and the nose tip [source]

Many sliders for things like mouth and ears [source]

On ears: you can adjust asymmetry, depth, rotation, earlobe size [source]

For ears you can have cauliflower ear [source]

The makeup blends modern stylings with the fantasy of DA. It has more than 30 options including eyeliner intensity, color, glitter, eye shadow, lips, and blush [source]

Tattoos are a thing. Add them to Rook’s face, body, arms, legs. Their intensity is adjustable [source]

Tattoos are customizable [source]

Scar options [source]

Paint options [source]

“Tattoos, scars, and paint are very culturally relevant to some lineages, BioWare tells me, with unique tattoos for elves, for example” [source]

Hair options: a ton. Hair can be non-traditional colors. Hair is gorgeous. Frostbite uses the Strand system to render “each style fully with physics” [source]

Select qunari Rook’s horn type and material - more than 40 options available [source]

4 voices. English masculine, English feminine, American masculine, American feminine. Each has a pitch slider [source]

[bingwriterxo]

first time

pairing: vada cavell x reader

summary: in which you and vada have your first time together

warnings: smut (character is 18+), 18+ (minors DNI), fingering

word count: 2200+

author's note: here she is: awkward, rambling vada. also (slight spoilers but...) [insert booksmart scene here]

"Mom?" you called out mid-yawn as you made your way downstairs, rubbing your eyes to try to wake yourself up more after the late-afternoon nap you had taken. When you were met with silence, you tried the other parent. "Dad?" Again, no response.

You shrugged as you walked into the kitchen, and your eyes narrowed as you caught sight of a piece of paper laying on the counter. You picked it up and read it over quickly, excitement surging through your veins.

Work trip this weekend. See you Sunday night. 

- Mom & Dad

vada can come over :)

The last part was scribbled on like an after-thought, and you knew your dad had written it. 

You dropped the paper onto the counter and pulled your phone from the pocket of your hoodie, immediately dialing your girlfriend's number. Leaning back against the counter, you waited for her to pick up. 

"Hey." Her voice was groggy, like she had also just woken up.

"Were you sleeping?" you asked. 

She hummed. "Yeah. Figured you were asleep when you didn't answer my texts so I thought I'd nap, too." You heard some shuffling on the other end and then Vada yawned. "What's up?"

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to stop yourself from grinning. "My mom and dad are gone for the weekend. They said you could come over. I've got the house to myself, so..."

"Movie marathon!" she shouted excitedly. You listened as she scrambled out of her bed, hopping around her bedroom in search for things to pack in her duffle bag. "I'll leave in, like, ten. Put something good on the TV!" You could hear her smiling through the phone.

"Okay, see you soon. Love you." 

She squealed. "Love you!"

* * *

The movie playing on the television was boring you half out of your mind. You had chosen a random one that you knew Vada had been wanting to watch with you, and you had tried to focus on it for the first half-hour, but something kept distracting you. Well, something aside from your girlfriend's nonstop rambling. 

"I used to have the biggest crush on Blake Lively as a kid, you know," Vada said, her eyes trained on the screen. Her hand was digging in the bowl of popcorn that was resting between the two of you, and you giggled as she shoved some of the snack into her mouth. "But, man, is Anna Kendrick hot," she mumbled around the food. "I mean, obviously I know she's hot, 'cause, like, I'm not blind, but something about her in this movie just hits different."

You weren't ignoring her, per se, but you definitely weren't fully listening, instead choosing to stare at your girlfriend's side profile as she munched on the popcorn and talked with her mouth full--a habit of hers that you had hated at first but now couldn't help find somewhat endearing (as long as you weren't looking at her face-on). 

"And, well, Blake Lively is Blake Lively, and who doesn't have a crush on her?" Vada continued. If you had been paying attention to the movie on the screen, you were almost sure you wouldn't have been able to hear any of it over the girl's talking, anyway, so it was better that you weren't watching, right?

When she realized she hadn't heard from you in a few minutes, she glanced your way, and you smiled softly. She offered you a confused grin. "Are you not watching?"

You hummed and turned back to the television. "No, no. I am," you lied. You could feel her eyes on you, and you knew that if you looked at her, she'd be giving you that damn lovestruck look she always had on her face when she was around you, the one that made you weak in the knees and had your heart beating rapidly.

"Y/N," she said, calling your attention back to her. You had been correct--she was staring at you with a half-smile, like she didn't even realize her lips were upturned, and soft eyes, 

"Yes?"

Her eyes flitted down to your lips quickly, then back to your eyes. "Can I kiss you?"

You giggled. "You don't have to ask, Vads. We're dating."

She shrugged, hiding in her shoulders for a moment. "I know," she said, voice shy and slightly embarrassed. "But I just wanna make sure every time. Because, like, what if one day I don't ask, and you don't want a kiss, and then--"

You pressed your lips to hers, effectively silencing her, and sighed when she kissed back eagerly. You reached down, pushed the empty popcorn bowl to the floor, and then easily maneuvered onto Vada's lap. She grinned against you, hands flying to your waist. 

"I always like when you're on top when we make out," she began, "because I like the weight." She paused, eyes wide. "I'm not, like, saying you're heavy or anything, not that that would be a problem if you were, obviously, but it's like a weighted blanket! You know, like how they can help anxiety and--"

"Vada," you said softly, eyes flickering between her own. 

She gulped, and her fingers twitched against your sweatshirt. "Yeah?"

"Could you just kiss me?"

She bit her lip. "Yeah. That I can definitely do." 

Vada stretched her neck up, and you leaned down. You met in the middle, lips moving feverishly against each other. Your arms were wrapped around her shoulders, playing with the baby hairs at the nape of her neck, while her hands slipped beneath the hem of your sweatshirt, her skin warm on yours. 

Her tongue swiped over your bottom lip at the same time as her fingers rose upward, the tips of her thumbs beneath your breasts. She pulled away quickly. "Are you not..." She moved her hands up a little more, feeling nothing except skin. "You're not wearing a bra."

You shook your head. "Nope." You grinned. "Is that a problem?"

"Definitely not," she breathed out, pulling you back into a bruising kiss. You groaned at the feeling, and she took it as an invitation, her tongue smoothing over your own. Vada's touch rose higher until she was palming your breasts softly, and you hummed against her.

After a moment, you nipped at her bottom lip and pulled away, your breathing heavy as you stared at her. Her pupils were blown, her lips were swollen, and you gulped before reaching down and pulling your sweatshirt off. Her eyes widened at the sight.

"Woah," she said as though she had never seen you topless before. You rolled your eyes with a smile because she had the same reaction every time the two of you did this, and then you leaned back in.

She seemed to still against you, and you reached down, urging her hands to keep moving. She took the hint, her thumbs beginning to circle your nipples, and you whined, your hips bucking up before you could stop them. 

Vada pulled away and dropped her head to your chest, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your sternum until she reached your breasts. She took one of your nipples into her mouth, and you threw your head back, a soft moan slipping from your lips. Her tongue ran along the bud while her lips sucked on it.

"Fuck, baby," you groaned, arching your back to push yourself into her touch more. 

Her hands dropped to your waist, though her mouth didn't stop, and she played with the hem of your shorts. "Do you wanna...?" she asked when she pulled back, staring up at you, her fingers dipping. 

"Yes," you said quickly, nodding to emphasize your agreement. "Yes, please."

Vada grinned, circled her arms around your waist, and then carefully laid you down on the couch, resting between your legs. Her mouth was quickly on your chest again as one of her hands slipped beneath your shorts, her finger running over your clothed slit. You squeaked in delight, hips canting up. 

"I can feel you through your underwear," Vada said. "You're really wet."

You nodded shyly, glancing away. "Yeah, well..."

She frowned and reached up, her free hand resting on your cheek and making you look at her again. "It's not bad. It's good. Really good, actually." She grinned, and you couldn't help your own smile. "Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, I have no idea what I'm doing, really. Well, I kind of do, since, you know, I also have a vagina, but, like, I've obviously never had sex with anyone else, so I don't know if I'll do it right, and I want your first time to be good."

"Vads, baby," you cooed. "It'll be great if it's with you."

"Okay, okay," she said. She leaned up and kissed you again, her hand slipping beneath your panties. You both groaned, you at the feeling and her at the feeling of you. She rubbed your clit experimentally and you moaned.

"Shit," you cursed. "Yeah, that's--that's good."

Vada started circling it softly, and you couldn't help your whimpering. She was careful, a little too careful, but you weren't going to rush her, especially since it felt amazing.

"You can..." You gasped as she sped up a little. "Yeah, I was gonna say--"

"That's good, then?" she asked. Her eyes were on you, watching all of your reactions, trying to make sure she was doing the right thing.

"Very," was your short response. 

"Can I...well, should I...go in?"

"Yeah," you murmured. "Yeah, okay."

Her hand pushed down just a little bit farther, and then--

Oh.

You gasped at the feeling. Vada glanced up. "Is that...okay? Or was it better earlier? Or--"

You gulped and looked down at her, offering her a half-hearted smile. "Babe...I--I don't think that's the hole you were going for..." you whispered, trying not to embarrass her. Her eyes widened, and a blush immediately painted over her face. She pulled out and then pulled away, even though you reached out for her, trying to bring her back in. 

"Oh my god, oh my god. I am so sorry," she rushed out. "I just...I didn't even realize that I had gone down that far, and I just went for it, and--oh my god, I am so sorry, baby."

You grabbed at her shirt, pulled her toward you again until she was hovering above you. "It's okay, Vads," you promised. She was fidgety, clearly anxious, and you reached up, cupping her cheek. "Baby, I swear, it's okay."

She bit her lip. "I just fucked up our first time having sex. Oh my god, it's our first time having sex and I just...I just put my finger--"

You giggled a little. "It's okay. I'm fine; we're fine." You leaned up and kissed her gently. "Do you wanna try again?"

Vada looked at you hesitantly. "Can I?" she asked. "I kind of feel like I need to try to redeem myself and get my finger in the right place. Because, I swear, I know where it's supposed to go. I promise."

"Vada, please try again," you said, the pleading in your voice clear as day. "I really want you to."

She nodded. "Okay." She leaned down and pressed her lips to yours, a little rough in her nerves. You didn't mind, accepting the kiss happily. 

Her fingers started to roam down your body again, and you inhaled sharply at the feel of her slipping beneath your panties again. Her fingers started at your clit, rubbing quick circles, and you moaned into her, her mouth catching the sound. 

"Okay," she said, determined. "This time I got it." Her finger slipped downward, and you felt her pressing against your entrance. "That's right, right?"

"Yes," you said. "Yes, baby. Please, just--"

She pushed her finger into you and you groaned, back arching. "God, you're tight, baby. Feels so good."

"Fuck," you mumbled as she started thrusting. She curled her finger whenever she was fully inside, and it wasn't hard for her to find the rough spot of your walls. "Shit, shit, Vads."

She grinned and dipped down to your neck, lips hot against your skin. You could feel her kissing and nipping and sucking, but you could only pay attention to the fact that she was in you. 

"You can," you started breathlessly, "you can add another one." 

Vada hummed into your neck and slipped a second finger in you. You gasped at the stretch, hands flying to grip her hair. Her thumb reached up to play with your clit, and she quickened her pace. You were rolling your hips against her, whimpering.

"You're so pretty," she said, voice muffled. "So good, baby."

The praise pushed you to the edge. "Vads, I'm gonna cum," you whined. She thrusted into you hard once, and then again, and then you were cumming around her fingers.  At the same moment your orgasm washed through you, her teeth nipped at your pulse point, and you shivered, fingers tightening in her hair and a moan of her name falling from your lips.

She pulled out of you gently, grinning smugly as she did, and you watched as she brought her fingers to her mouth, licking them curiously. Her eyes widened. "Okay," she said decidedly. "Next time, I'm going down on you."

You chuckled and bit your lip. "You think there's gonna be a next time?" you teased.

Vada frowned. "I thought I redeemed myself pretty well," she huffed. 

"I dunno. We might have to do it again...just to check."

She grinned. "Not a problem with me." And then her lips were on yours again and her hand was sliding down your front. 

[ambros1an]

firefly x gn reader 18+

warnings: SPOILERS FOR 2.1, eating out, face sitting, dom firefly, he/she/they pronouns for firefly, firefly has 🐱and d (in other form), firefly written as nonbinary, penetration, the suit stays ON, nothing hardcore

summary: gentle dom(ish)! firefly. that’s it. that’s the post

a/n: i wrote this for the people the love firefly in her completeness and not just one aspect or the other. i know y’all are out there. also never written nsfw and wanted to do it semi-realistically (lol)

the way firefly has everyone fooled. most that manage to see her despite her entropy disorder think of her as a kind and compliant girl. someone unfortunate. rarely anyone gets to see her true self, as someone who takes.

her plush thighs grip your head, holding it in place. her panties thrown off in the corner, but not fully undressed. her skirt conceals your face, holding u into her.

“a-ahh” they say your name, “please…”

you swirl your tongue around her clit, giving it kisses when she grinds into u.

“a-aha, sorry,” she apologizes.

you hum into her as acknowledgment. don’t stop

she bounces on your face, grinding against your tongue and your nose to hit that spot just right. She’s just so close- she can feel it. Firefly grips onto your hair in an effort to bring you somehow closer.

your hands clasp around her waist in return. their cunt starts to twitch around your tongue and the grinding gets harder.

“hhah-ah, im so close-“

she throws her head back in a moan. coming because of you, because of your tongue. its all just too much. if only you could see it.

has she ever been cared for like this?

with shaky legs she removes herself from your face and places herself down next to you.

“i want to..help you too” she looks down then back up at you.

obviously it was a yes.

she rolls in between your legs. this time he was Sam, not firefly. but with you, maybe they could be both.

the mecha suit encased her body, and with it was an “attachment.” sam’s cock stood upright. it gleamed with their signature green and blue decals.

he oiled a bottle of lube onto his fingers before inserting them. he didn’t want to hurt you. not again. his two fingers pumped in and out, leaving a full feeling that wasn’t unpleasant but welcome.

your light moans and grunts egged him on, inserting a 3rd finger.

“sam..”

they look up at you, “I know. I’m almost done,” he said lightly, you could hear a smile in her tone.

she removed her fingers from you, slick coating them. she held up the bottle of lube preparing to put it on her cock but you were faster.

“let me” you say, sitting up and plucking it from his hands. sam looks at you with a startled expression. he watches you coat your hand in the liquid then-

“oh-“

you’re touching him. you rub up and down his cock. one hand caressing the tip and the other the base.

“sensitive here?” you smirk, leaning down and placing your mouth onto his tip. he answers you with a shaky moan. not that you needed to ask anyway.

you kiss and lick at the tip, then open your mouth to go down further, humming around the shaft. that is until Sam grips your hair and plucks you off.

“sorry- not now. i wanted to do something for you. please, turn around,” the way he says it, makes it clear he’s out of breath.

you roll over onto your back, looking up at the hulking mecha on top of you. he rubs up and down his shaft, before inserting himself inside you. he moans, the heat surrounding him is enough to make him bust already.

as for you, its a tight fit. you hiss between your teeth. but the fullness feels so good. when sam starts thrusting, even more so.

to any other person, sam staring down at you would be a death sentence, but not to you. you can tell from the way he looks at you, that she really wants to kiss you. the warmth spreads across your stomach.

“ah-haha” he moans your name. “I really do love-“ he whimpers, caressing your hair, “care for you.” the warmth you feel from their emotions, combined with the pleasure, makes you come undone.

“f-firefly!”

you twitch around his cock, and it throbs against you too. the robot releases into you, the sensation is warm. and with it the mecha releases firefly from his suit, and she collapses onto you.

“its way too hot in there,” she moans.

you can’t help but giggle. you still cant believe they’re the same person.

[downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le]

Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader) - Chapter 5

Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader) Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 6164 Warnings: death, violence, fighting, bloody wounds, angst, infuriatingly oblivious love interest, slowburn Spoilers: Young Justice Seasons 1-3 plot partially, but it ended in 2022 so catch up.

Y/N Prince - miracle daughter of Wonder Woman and Steve Trevor - and Dick Grayson - first adoptive son of the Batman himself - have been best friends since day one. They went to school together, trained together, kept each other's alter ego secret from everyone else, and they founded the Young Justice alongside their friends together. 

But as time progressed, Y/N and Dick grew up and Y/N found herself wanting more than friendship with Dick. But he never seemed to indicate that he reciprocated her feelings. And when Wally died and Dick abandoned the team, Y/N realised he never would. So she heads to the one place she knows will help her become a stronger warrior so that one day she can take her mother's place: Themyscira.

Two years after his leave, Dick reaches out to his old friends to help him with a mission. But when he finds out Y/N left too, he chases after her in the hopes to bring her back.

However, when the two finally reunite, it isn't as warm as he hopes. Not to mention Themyscira becomes under siege as they go to war against Echidna, the Mother of Monsters in Greek Mythology, and her army of monstrous children.

Will Dick and Y/N be able to put their past behind them and save the Amazonians' homeland? Or will they fall, unable to tell one another their true feelings?

~~~

The next day, Dick wandered about the palace in search of anything to pass the time. He initially thought he could sleep out the rest of his day in the infirmary - gods knew he was going to need all the energy he could get for his journey home - but found himself instead pondering a certain warrior princess a little too much for his liking.

So here he was, wandering aimlessly looking for something, anything, to occupy his mind. But even so, Y/N's hard stare couldn't be shook from his mind.

Dick groaned, stopping to lean up against a pillar in frustration, figuring his wandering was not helping him. What's her deal? he thought, rubbing his temples in an attempt to be rid of his bothering thoughts. He was to leave at sundown, and probably never return to Themyscira again.

I know who I am, and I know my place is here, with people who actually care about me.

She'd said it with such fierceness, such ire. As if he could never understand her pain.

This is my home, and by sundown tomorrow, you will be on a boat headed back to Gotham City... and out of my life. For good.

Does she really want that? He pondered the question over as he walked to the window opposite him. It was more like an opening framed by marble pillars and fenced by an edge. He leaned against edge and looked over it.

He had to admit, it was a beautiful place. Isolated but untouched by Man's destructive hand. Dick couldn't believe such a place existed. All he'd known all his life was destruction and pain and loss. The Death he knew didn't discriminate, though sometimes Dick was sure Death favoured the sinners, taking any saint it could get its cruel hands on.

Like Jason. Like Tula. Like Wally.

Dick's attention was caught by the open field just a little way from the palace grounds, heading towards some higher mountains. It was the same field he was brought to when he first got to Themyscira. The same field that Y/N knocked him royally unconscious with one blow.

The clanging of steel echoed up to the palace, and Dick's eagle-eyed gaze latched onto a familiar h/c haired girl as she fought against five other warriors. She looked just like them - wearing the same uniform, wielding the same swords - and yet, she wasn't one of them. She was above them, meant for more - just like Kaldur, M'gann, and Connor had told her.

This is my home, and by sundown tomorrow, you will be... out of my life. For good.

Not if I can help it, he thought, racing through the palace halls, down several flights of stairs, and into the streets of Themyscira. If that is what Y/N truly believed - if that is what she wanted - then she would have to prove it to him.

~~~

Y/N jumped back as Calliope slashed her sword at Y/N's neck, then quickly leaped forwards again and slamming her shield into the warrior. Calliope stumbled back, but regained her footing easily.

'You have gotten better, my Princess,' she said, an evil glint in her deep brown eyes. 'But you still have much to learn.'

Y/N barely had time to duck as Calliope sprang forward, sword slashing across Y/N's body swift as the wind. Y/N rolled away as Calliope slashed at her again, slamming her sword into the grass beneath.

Y/N quickly sprung to her feet, then lunged at Calliope's side, tackling her and sending the two of them into a messy wrestling match, both their swords forgotten.

Despite initiating the struggle, Calliope managed to get on top of Y/N, straddling her waist and pinning her arms above her head. 'See, Princess?' Calliope gloated, a smug smile on her lips. 'Still so much to learn.'

'Yeah?' Y/N asked. 'Well, I guess the same goes for you.'

Calliope tilted her head in confusion, but Y/N answered by flipping Calliope over her head in one swift motion. Calliope landed on her back with a loud exhale of air, but Y/N was already straddling Calliope, pinning both Calliope's arms above her head in one hand while Y/N pulled out a hidden dagger from underneath her skirt and held it to Calliope's neck.

Y/N flashed Calliope a wicked smile. 'Lesson number one: never ever count me out.'

Calliope struggled for a moment before relinquishing the fight. 'Fine, Princess. I yield,' she said, offering a defeated smile.

Y/N jumped to her feet and offered her hand out to Calliope, to which the warrior took. 'I yield, today, Princess,' Calliope said. 'But I promise next time will not end the same.'

Y/N laugh jovially. 'I look forward to the challenge, Calliope.'

A round of applause resounded through the field, drawing Y/N's attention back to the crowd that had gathered around her and Calliope. She'd started off fighting five warriors, but they'd slowly dwindled down to just Calliope, the rest now clapping with other onlookers who had paused their training to witness the spectacle.

'That was most impressive, Princess,' one of the original five said as Y/N and Calliope rejoined them and the crowd slowly dispersed. 'You are turning into a fine warrior.'

'Thank you,' Y/N said with a gracious nod. 'But Calliope is right. I still have much to learn if I am to be your champion, or my mother's successor.'

'You are too hard on yourself, Princess,' Calliope said, resting a comforting hand on Y/N's shoulders. 'The last six months, you have grown in leaps and bounds, becoming stronger than all of us - though I hate to admit it. You are more than worthy to be our champion, and to carry on your mother's legacy.'

Y/N's heart fluttered with hope at the sound of those words. Did they really think so? That she was worthy?

But just as swiftly the hope came, it fluttered just as quickly away as Y/N shook her head. 'Worthy is not the same as ready,' Y/N argued, though she offered a grateful smile. 'But I am sure with more time, that will be the case someday.'

Calliope smiled encouragingly back at her. 'Well, until then, I guess we'll just have to try and beat you.' Calliope's hand that gripped Y/N's shoulder slid down to her wrist and lifted her hand high above. 'Who will it be, then? Who dares to challenge our champion, Princess Y/N of Themyscira?'

It was a joke of a declaration to which the remaining warriors laughed or dismissed the challenge entirely. But one voice emerged strong from the crowd.

'I will.'

The five warriors surrounding Y/N split so they could see Dick Grayson standing alone, staring intently at Y/N. He wore just his civvies still, but the intensity in his bright blue eyes told Y/N that he was being dead serious.

Calliope scoffed with amusement beside her. 'Run along, foreigner,' she called out in English so he could understand. 'Or do you want to be embarrassed?'

The other women laughed, but Dick called out, 'No. I came here to fight Y/N. I've fought her plenty of times before. I even managed to beat her every now and again. Haven't I, Y/N?'

Y/N didn't like how casual he was being about this, and what he was implying. Calliope and the other warriors looked to one another with confusion and shock. Not that Y/N ever boasted invulnerability, but she was one of that strongest among her peers. To hear that a man - a mortal man, at that - had bested her was news to them.

'I thought I told you to stay in the infirmary,' Y/N said, silencing the murmurs around her.

Dick just shrugged his shoulders, looking around the field. 'You did, but I got bored, and I figured there are many more interesting and lovely things to see outside.'

Y/N rolled her eyes. 'Still the same ignorant boy.'

'Still the same stubborn girl,' Dick countered, setting Y/N's cheeks ablaze with his quick wit.

'What do you want, Nightwing?' Y/N said. She was growing tired and irritated with every second she looked at him.

Y/N didn't miss the slight scrunch of his eyebrows at the mention of his vigilante name - how, just for a moment, his carefree facade cracked - but he answered as if unbothered. 'I just want to talk, Y/N. But if the only way to do that is to fight you, then so be it.'

Dick took a few quick steps up to Y/N so that he slightly towered over her. He'd been tall when she last saw him, but he had grown once more and not just in height. His broad shoulders and chest made him seem gargantuan compared to two years ago.

But Dick isn't the only one who's grown up.

'So, what do you say, Y/N?' he asked, his breath dancing gently across Y/N's face. 'For old times' sake?'

Y/N looked up at him, trying to ignore the intense pounding of her heart against her ribcage. His eyes were irritatingly piercing as they had always been. One look into them and he'd always been able to get her to do exactly what he wanted.

He was goading her, she knew that. Backing her into a corner she couldn't get out of even if she tried. She could deny him, but make a fool of herself in front of her people. Or she could fight him, and risk losing her dignity and pride to him if he won.

Not an option.

'Fine,' she said, stepping away to catch her breath and settle her mind. As she did, she swore she saw him lean after her. 'If you won't go back to the infirmary willingly, I'll put you back in there myself. Just like I did the first time around.'

Y/N didn't wait for a witty remark from Dick, already turning and walking into the open field to reclaim her sword she'd discarded in her fight with Calliope. She picked up Calliope's sword too, and threw it to Dick, who clumsily caught it.

'Uh... I was thinking more of hand-to-hand combat,' Dick said, looking at the sword worriedly.

'Ah uh,' Y/N chastised. 'You challenge me to a duel, we fight under my terms.' Y/N held out her sword, the sharp point of it poised towards Dick. 'Now, raise your sword, Nightwing. And come meet your fate.'

Dick looked like he wanted to say something stupid, perhaps a joke, but Y/N glared a silent threat at him and he wisely closed his mouth. He walked to where Y/N stood, and raised his sword to meet hers. Y/N never took her eyes off him, determined fire coursing through her every fibre. You will not win, Dick Grayson. You will not win.

Calliope came to stand between the two. She was to act as their referee, it seemed. She raised her hands, looked between the two. 'Ready... And fight!'

Calliope leaped out of ranged, and before Dick could react, Y/N knocked his sword out of her way and charged at him. Lucky for him and his acrobatic past, he easily dodged her charge. But she expected that.

She swung her sword down in an overhead arc but was met with Dick's sword, the clashing of steel echoing throughout the field. She swung again, he blocked. Swing, block. Swing, block.

Y/N growled in frustration. He knew her too well. Even after two years, he still anticipated the same moves.

They clashed swords again, this time holding and pressing against one another to see who would fall first. 'Fight me properly, damnit,' Y/N groaned out.

'Not until you stop calling me Nightwing,' he answered, and to Y/N's satisfaction he sounded hard of breath.

'Is that what all this is about?' Y/N asked, slightly bewildered. 'Why you wanted to fight? You're lucky that is the only thing I call you.'

Y/N stepped aside of the fight, letting Dick's momentum force him forward. Y/N stepped behind him and kicked him hard in the back, sending him flying forwards a few metres. Dick hit the ground hard, and for a moment Y/N worried if he had broken something. She'd forgotten her strength wasn't like mortals. But that worry disappeared when Dick picked himself up with barely a wince.

Dick ran at her and she braced for the slash, but instead leaped over her and swept her legs out from under her feet. Just as he went to pin her down though, she punched him in the jaw, sending him stumbling backwards and giving her enough time to stand up.

'Damn,' Dick said, rubbing his jaw with an amused smile, 'I almost forgot that you can pack a punch.'

'Stop wasting my time!' Y/N was beyond irritated now, rushing at Dick and making slice after slice at him. Again, his agility and nimbleness kept just a hair's breadth from the tip of her sword, which only irritated her more.

'Then tell me why!' Dick yelled back, ducking under another swipe of Y/N's sword. 'Why do you refuse to call me by my name, Y/N?'

Y/N was surprised by his sudden aggression. In all the time she'd known him, he'd never really lost his cool unless it was at Bruce because he wouldn't let Dick come on a mission, or go to the movies as a child.

Her surprise cost her, as Dick knocked her sword from her hand, twisted her around so her back pressed against his chest, and pinned her against him with an arm around her waist and his sword against her neck. 'Come on, Y/N,' he said softly so no one else could hear. 'You're my best friend. What happened?'

Y/N couldn't believe it. He truly didn't know? His question was sincere, which made it all the more worse. How could he not know that he was the cause of all of this?

Y/N saw red then, that determined fire in her burning hotter and fiercer. With all her strength, she heaved Dick over the top of her, effectively throwing him a good two metres away and cracking the earth with the impact.

She ran for her sword, and by the time he was on his feet, she was on swinging at him fervently, relentlessly, mercilessly.

'You left, that's what!' she cried, slicing at him without a single thought of the next move. All she knew is that if she let up now, she would lose. 'You left, and you didn't even care!'

'Y/N, listen, I-'

'Shut up!' she said, kicking him in the stomach and sending him to the floor. He raised his sword just in time as she brought hers down upon him. 'You don't have the right to come here and tell me what to do. Not when you didn't contact us even once, knowing we needed you!'

Dick rolled out from beneath Y/N, sending her stumbling forward as he got on his feet. But Y/N just swung with a cry, the clashing of their swords almost deafening as she swung at Dick again and again and again.

Dick grunted as he fended off every attack, not even bothering to try and return the favour, but merely hold his line. His defensive strategy just made Y/N even more mad. Was she not a worthy opponent? Had she ever been worthy to him?

'I said I'm sorry,' he said between laboured breaths. 'I realise now that leaving wasn't the best way to cope with Wally's death, but-'

'But nothing!' Y/N swung her sword so hard against Dick's that she knocked it out of his hands. He looked after his weapon in shock but Y/N was already punching him so hard in the stomach that he flew high in the air for a moment before crash-landing, cracking the earth he laid on.

As Dick groaned with pain, Y/N walked on over and pressed a foot hard against his chest, preventing him from getting back up. She pointed her sword at his throat, forcing him to look up at her with those piercing blue eyes that looked at her like she was unrecognisable.

Good.

'But. Nothing,' she said softly this time, coldly. There was so much more she wanted to tell him, to shout and yell and scream in his stupidly beautiful face to make him understand. But no clear enough words came to mind, so she stepped off Dick and retracted her sword.

She turned to see a larger crowd of warriors had congregated to watch the fight. And although she had won, Y/N didn't feel overly victorious. Some of the warriors were smiling and cheering, but Y/N spotted Calliope in the front, eyeing her Princess with curiosity and worry.

Her deep brown eyes asked a silent question: are you okay?

Y/N nodded upwards in a dismissive manner, as if to say: we will discuss this later.

Calliope nodded in understanding, and that was the end of the conversation.

'We're done here,' Y/N said for all to hear as she made to head back to the crowd.

'Wait, Y/N,' Dick grunted out as he pushed himself to his feet, holding his ribs that were no doubt bruised if not cracked.

Y/N stopped in her tracks and turned to face him, stone cold expression on her face. 'That's Wonderess to you, Nightwing. I suggest you head back to the infirmary like I told you to before and rest up. You've got a long voyage ahead of you tonight.'

'But-'

'Goodbye, Nightwing.'

Y/N didn't wait for his reaction as she turned to rejoin her fellow warriors. Internally, she just wanted to be alone, but the women looked up to her, respected her. They would want to congratulate their princess on her victory.

So that is who she became once more, the smiling and proud warrior princess she had forced herself to become in order to block out her former weaknesses.

In order to block out him, who she spotted in the corner of her eye being aided by two women in blue nurse robes. And as much as she tried to block him out, a pinprick of guilt punctured her heart as she watched him be taken down the stairs and back to the palace.

'Congratulations, Princess,' Calliope said softly, drawing Y/N's attention back to the present. 'That was... a brutal fight.'

Y/N stood up straighter, shook herself slightly to get back into character. 'Nothing I couldn't handle. He is but a mere mortal after all.'

'I wasn't talking about the physicality of the battle, Princess,' Calliope said with a knowing tone.

Y/N's facade cracked slightly as Calliope gave her a knowing look. Calliope was more perceptive than Y/N gave her credit for.

She quickly regained her composure and flashed Calliope an easy smile as she patted her on the shoulder. 'Well, just as well we are not only warriors in strength, but of the mind, too. Like the great Athena herself.'

Before Calliope could stop her, Y/N strode past her and down the stairs. She wasn't heading for the palace or the markets or anywhere really. She just needed to be alone.

Y/N didn't stop walking until her feet hit the waves of the ocean lapping at the white sand of Themyscira's shore. She'd be back down here at nightfall. It will be the last time I see him, she realised, and despite her anger and her hurt, tears sprung to her eyes at the thought.

You're my best friend. Always have been...

Always will be.

And right there, alone on the beach, Y/N allowed herself to cry her heart out. In anger, in hurt, and all for a love that refused to let her go. It was so cruel of him, of the universe, to seek her out just when she thought she'd found a new home.

But as Y/N cried and her tears joined the ocean lapping at her feet, she found she had never felt more alone.

~~~

Dick's hands weren't shackled, but as the entourage of guards escorted him from all sides down the long staircase from the palace to the docks, he'd never felt more imprisoned.

Only a small party of people had come to send him off. The sunset was approaching dusk, so Dick figured most of the women would be preparing or sharing a meal together already. Queen Hippolyta stood by the small boat at the end of the dock with another squad of guards.

To Dick's surprise, Y/N stood beside her grandmother, but she didn't look too happy. In fact, she wasn't showing any emotion, just was staring ahead of her as if in a trance.

Or she's just trying to ignore me. All afternoon and throughout dinner all Dick could envision were Y/N's pain-filled eyes as they'd sparred. She was normally so calculative, calm, composed when she fought, always trying to de-escalate a situation even with the villains back home.

But she'd fought like a cornered animal, where her only way out had been to fight. Lashing out wildly, dangerously, carelessly. And at the end, when she'd stood above him with that cold expression, he realised it was all because of him.

He'd done this to her, pushed her away, ignored her, discarded her as if she hadn't been grieving too. He'd been so naive to think she'd always be there for him, that she'd be waiting for him after all that time, not when he hadn't spared hers or any of the teams' feelings a single thought after he left.

But he'd seen her smiling with Calliope and the other women, the way she used to with him and Kaldur and M'gann and Connor and Wally. They used to be a family, but he'd single-handedly destroyed that.

But Y/N had found a new one. All on her own. So what right did he have to tell her she had to leave when she'd finally found happiness again?

Dick couldn't even answer that himself, but the guilt that weighed him down was answer enough.

The guards surrounding him walked him to the end of the pier and then dispersed as they approached their queen, fanning out to stand behind him. Dick spared a glance to Y/N but she just looked straight ahead, not even acknowledging his presence.

'Well, it is time to bid you farewell, Nightwing,' Queen Hippolyta said, motioning to the sailboat to her right. 'This vessel has all you need for your journey home. There are maps and a compass for you to use, and we have packed some fruit and bread for sustenance.'

Dick nodded his head in gratitude. 'Thank you, Your Majesty,' he said sincerely. 'You have been a most generous and understanding host.'

'I am sorry we couldn't help you with your task,' the Queen said, then looked to Y/N knowingly. When she didn't respond, the Queen nudged her granddaughter slightly, bringing Y/N back to the moment.

'I am sorry, too,' Dick said, turning his gaze to lock with Y/N's. 'Truly.'

He wanted to say more but Y/N had made it very clear that whatever they had been two years ago, they certainly weren't that anymore. And he didn't blame her, but he needed her to know that he wished things were different.

For a brief moment, Dick thought he saw Y/N's face soften at his apology, like maybe she wished for the very same thing. But the moment - if it had happened at all - went as quickly as it came, and Y/N's face was blank once more.

Dick let out a breath of defeat, then flashed a polite smile to the Queen and the guards around him. 'Well, it's been a pleasure.'

He gave a final nod of thanks, to which the Queen reciprocated, and then he made his way to the boat. But before he jumped on, he turned around to speak directly to Y/N.

'I'll tell them all you said hi,' Dick said, a half-amused smile on his lips.

Y/N's jaw tensed then, and Dick imagined it was taking all her will not to do anything. It annoyed him slightly that she couldn't even say one word to him, not even about their friends who also missed her. But he just turned back to the boat.

But just as he went to jump aboard, the whole pier rocked, sending everyone stumbling a little.

'What was that?' the Queen asked.

Her answer came in the form of another rock of the deck, this time hitting much harder. Some women fell to the ground while others clung to each other to steady themselves.

Dick looked out at the ocean to see the once calm waters now rising and falling and swirling rapidly. It was a full moon night, but even the moon couldn't control the waves like that.

'What in the name of Tartarus is out there?'

Dick turned to find Y/N standing beside him, looking out at the mass of water swirling and surging violently. Dick retuned to the waters, and his stomach dropped at where the violent waves were headed.

'I don't know,' he said, 'but it's coming right for us!'

'Everybody, get to higher ground!' Y/N called out, then ran straight to her grandmother. Dick followed Y/N as some of the guards helped their Queen and the others scrambled up the stairs.

As they reached the base of the stairs, the boat cracked as a wave crashed over it, splintering it in seconds.

'Keep going!' Y/N cried out, pushing her grandmother higher up the stairs as the water splintered the pier and rose up the stairs.

Suddenly, out of the water surged a tentacle, striking the stairs just below Dick's feet. The marble crumbled like sand and tumbled down into the still rising water.

Another tentacle struck out, this time grabbing a hold of one of the guards and throwing her into the side of the mountain.

'Dimitra!' Calliope called out beside Dick, frozen on the steps as she looked after her fallen friend.

Dick looked up to see another tentacle emerge from the rising water and grabbed Calliope and hauled her up more stairs. 'Keep moving!'

The tentacles kept coming out of the water, slamming into the stairs, crushing or throwing any warrior they could get their slimy suckers on. All Dick was focussed on was dragging Calliope up the stairs as fast as he could until they were safe.

They reached a small landing in the stairs and finally the water stopped rising just a few steps below them, and the creature fully emerged. Seemingly hundreds of tentacles flayed around, all coming from the bulbous, slimy head of a creature Dick thought only existed in books.

'Kraken,' Queen Hippolyta said in disbelief.

'They exist?!' Dick asked, not truly believing what he was seeing.

'Of course they exist,' the Queen scolded. 'Hades created the Kraken to help defeat the Titans long ago. They are powerful but usually docile and dormant creatures.'

'Well, I'm afraid to say Your Majesty, but this one seems very much awake and destructive,' Dick said

'Duck!' Y/N cried out as a tentacle came swiping at their heads. Dick ducked with everyone else as the tentacle cut through the stairs, cutting the group off from the city above.

Another tentacle struck out towards Y/N but she sliced it with her sword, and a piercing screech echoed through the cove. No doubt the whole island heard it, and hopefully backup was on their way.

'I don't understand,' the Queen said, exasperated. 'Why is it attacking us? I didn't even know krakens lived nearby!'

'It doesn't matter why it's attacking,' Dick started. 'We've got to put it down. Any ideas?'

'Fire,' Y/N said. 'That's one of its weaknesses. We need fire.' She frantically looked around her, probably for anything flammable. But all that surrounded them was marble and the kraken.

Dick immediately started pulling off his jacket. 'Here, use this,' he said, handing it over to Y/N. She hesitated for a moment, looking at his jacket like it had the plague. Dick rolled his eyes and said, 'Come on, what else you got?'

Y/N gave him a hesitant look, but took the jacket anyways. She dropped to the ground and picked up two pieces of marble rock broken from the stairs and started clinking them together to get a spark.

Dick got distracted from her work at the sound of women's pain-filled cries. Tentacles were striking everywhere now, even the ones the women were able to sever were still attacking. The mountainside beside them crumbled more, and more warriors were being crushed or flung off the mountain.

Their party was dwindling, and fast.

Dick picked up a discarded spear and started lunging at the tentacles. 'Hurry up, Y/N!'

'I'm trying!' she called out, striking the rocks harder now. Suddenly, a spark lunged from the rocks onto the jacket, and it quickly caught fire.

'Yes!' Y/N cried, then turned to Dick with a hand held out. 'Give me the spear!'

Without hesitation, Dick threw her the spear, to which she stabbed the sharp end of the weapon into the flaming jacket, twisting it so it wrapped around the spearhead tightly. A proud smile flickered onto her lips for a moment as she looked back at Dick, and he couldn't help but smile too.

Until a tentacle wrapped around Y/N's middle and lifted her off the ground.

'No!' Dick cried as he chased after her, but she was already hundreds of metres in the air, dangling over the kraken's open mouth. Hundreds and hundreds of teeth ringed around the actual mouth, making bigger digestions easier for the creature, but Dick was almost certain it wouldn't need any of them to swallow Y/N whole.

But Y/N was unfazed as she hung over certain doom. She steadied herself, then raised the spear behind her. For Dick, time slowed down, as he was certain the kraken would drop her into its mouth at any second.

But she threw the flaming spear before it could, aiming it true straight down the kraken's throat. Instantly, the kraken's mouth caught on fire, eliciting a horrifying scream from within the flames.

All it's tentacles retracted and wriggled in pain, and the one holding Y/N flung her high in the air.

'Y/N!' Dick ran for the edge of landing as she fell hard and fast. He leaped just as she levelled with the landing, and Dick's eyes briefly met with hers, and he saw the terror she felt then.

She disappeared beyond the edge as he reached over, closing his hand in the hopes of catching her in time.

His hand closed. There was something there. Dick's heart thrummed so loud in his ears he couldn't even hear his own breathing. He laid there for a moment, holding on to something, until his heartbeat quietened.

And then he heard it. Another person breathing. And then he felt it. Skin beneath his fingertips.

He dared to look over the edge, and relief washed over him as he saw Y/N dangling from his hand, looking up at him in disbelief.

'I've got you,' he said with a shaky smile, then started pulling her up with all his might.

The remaining guards helped him too, pulling him backwards until Y/N could pull herself up onto the landing. Dick immediately went to help her to her feet. 'You okay?' he asked.

But Y/N just pushed his hands away and stood up shakily. 'I'm fine,' she said bluntly, giving him a quick side-eye that wasn't quite mad but definitely not grateful.

Annoyance riled up in him again, but now was not the time to be petty and childish. Both he and Y/N looked over the edge of landing to see the kraken limply sinking back down into the water. But the water didn't sink with it. In fact, it rose even more until it levelled with the edge of the landing, small waves gently lapping at Y/N's and Dick's feet.

Suddenly, the water started bubbling, and ghoulish green light emanated from deep under.

'Stand back everyone,' Y/N said, and they all did, weapons primed at the ready for the next monster to rise up.

But instead of a giant kraken, a human-sized figure rose up from the water. Although, as soon as they fully emerged, Dick knew the being wasn't human.

It looked like a naked woman, but she was covered in emerald green scales like those of a snake, and had such hypnotic green eyes that Dick struggled to look away from. Her hair flowed like liquid midnight down her back, contrasting the golden crown she wore. The scales that covered her arms and breasts fed down into her green serpent bottom that swivelled so as to keep her afloat.

The woman smiled a sickeningly sweet smile, eyeing everyone on the landing with a calculative stare. 'Well that wasn't a warm welcome, was it?'

Y/N grabbed a discarded sword from the ground and pointed it at her. 'Who are you? Are you the one who sent the kraken to kill us?'

'Kill you?' The woman sounded amused as her smile widened somehow. 'If I wanted to kill you Princess, I would've sent one of my stronger children to finish you off. No, the killing will come later, I'm afraid.'

'Children?' Dick asked, but it was the Queen who answered.

'It cannot be,' Queen Hippolyta said breathlessly, horror contorting her face as she gazed at the woman in the water. 'In all my years...'

'Who is she, grandmother?' Y/N asked.

The Queen swallowed thickly before answering. 'That is Echidna, Mother of Monsters.'

'Monsters is such a cruel name for children,' Echidna countered. 'But then again, I guess they can be... destructive.'

'We are not afraid of you, Echidna,' the Queen asked, stepping forward. 'We are daughters of Artemis, with the spirit of Athena, and the blessing of Hera. Begone before we make you regret it.'

While the Queen was an intimidating woman, her threat fell flat on Echidna, who simply laughed.

'My, I must admit you are humorous, Your Majesty,' Echidna said mockingly. 'But even with all your blessings, you still wouldn't be able to defeat me.'

'So you are here to kill us,' Y/N said, pointing the sword accusingly at Echidna. 'Why?'

'Patience, Princess,' Echidna said cooly, slithering across the water towards where the landing met the water. 'My kraken was just a warning.'

'Warning? For what?' Dick asked, and he immediately regretted it because Echidna turned her gaze on him and gave him a sinister smile that sent shivers down his spine.

'That war is coming,' Echidna said, slithering towards where he stood near the edge. 'My children haven't feasted on the flesh of humans in a long, long time. Although, you're handsome to look at. Perhaps I will spare you from the slaughter.'

Before she could lean in closer to Dick, Y/N stuck her sword between them and pushed Echidna away and stepped in front of Dick. 'Enough games,' she said. 'Why are you doing this. The Amazons have lived peacefully for centuries. What did they ever do to you to warrant war?'

For the first time that night, Echidna's smile disappeared, and the cold, cruel expression that replaced it aged her by a hundred years or so. 'For centuries, my children have been hunted and killed for sport and glory by those you admire. And while, yes, the Amazons have never harmed me personally, they are the product of all the gods' love and what is good with the world.

'My children are products of gods, too, yet they are hunted and killed, while the Amazons - who are just as powerful and destructive as my babies - are praised and adored. And so for that - for Zeus and Hera and all the gods killing my children - I will kill theirs.'

Echidna's tail rose up to brush Y/N's from her face, that cruel smile returning. 'You have three days to prepare, and then I will rain terror down upon Themyscira like you've never seen before. Terror, that will make you wish you were dead afterwards.'

To Y/N's credit, she didn't flinch as Echidna leaned in closer again until practically their foreheads were touching. 'Three days, Princess. And then you're done.'

'Three days, and your head will be on my spear,' Y/N spat back, gaze never faltering as she held Echidna's.

Echidna's chuckle unsettled Dick as she slithered away and sunk back into the water. As she did, the water slowly sunk back down to the normal height, revealing the broken boat and pier but no signs of the dead kraken or Echidna.

Everyone was silent, unsure what to say after the terrifying encounter. Until Dick couldn't handle the silence any longer.

'All right,' he started, turning to Y/N and the Queen. 'What do we do now.'

'The only thing we can do,' the Queen said solemnly as she stared down at the ocean. 'Prepare for war.'

'And pray,' Y/N said, following her grandmother's gaze. 'We're going to need to.'

--------------------

Tag List:

@valiantbouquetcloud | @epicy0n | @resistanythingbuttemptation | @lunaizhere | @nameunknownsthings | @tqrgvryen | @pariahsparadise | @edgycat | @b4tm4nn | @cynwing | @lilylovelyxo | @herondale-lightworm | @animeflower26 | @tiny-marie | @jedigrayson

[ang3lofdivinity]

Haiiiii!! I have no clue if youre taking requests or not, but I was wondering if you could do general relationship hcs for Riley (if you’re comfortable ofc!)

╔══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╗

“ 𝖨𝖽𝗒𝗅𝗅𝗂𝖼 ”

╚══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╝

︶⊹︶︶⠀୨୧⠀︶︶⊹︶

Relationship(s): Riley Andersen + GN!Reader (both platonic and romantic)

Format: Headcanons + small stories

Genre: Fluff + A decent amount of angst

Warnings: Mentions of bullying, Inside out 1-2 movie spoilers, emetophobia, panic attacks, little oc insert other than that- none!

Author’s notes: IVE BEEN WAITING FOR ONE OF THESE. AAAAAAAAAAHAHEHJEHAJAHSH. Guys, I love inside out 2, I’m seeing it tomorrow again. I LOVE IT SO MUCH. I made you a bit of a recluse in this, so i’m.. very sorry - Playlist recommendation (not mine):

Side note: Idyllic - extremely happy, peaceful, or picturesque.

Platonic:

Definitely one of your best friends.

She’s so sweet 😭

I wanna say you met her shortly after she was introduced into your class, when she was 12. You probably moved to San Francisco as well, but probably from at a younger age- like 5 years old.

You learned earlier on to understand the environment and adjust to it (even with how different and altering it was to you). You’re used to the same routine everyday, the same things everyday, and many things haven’t changed since then. You’ve definitely had trouble with friends even after being here for so long, though, it doesn’t matter- you were weird, at least to everyone around you. They never liked the fact you were.. primarily reserved. You were teased about it, nothing too severe, until it turned to bullying.

It’s…hard. The idea of being alone for the rest of your years here in middle school and then being alone in high school as well because they remember the recluse you were—

Well, until the new student arrived.

Riley Andersen, a girl who moved here from Minnesota with parents.

..If I’m being honest, it hurt to hear the pain within her voice after talking about her life in Minnesota, how she would play hockey from such a young age with her parents.

Though, it definitely took you much longer to actually talk to her, and go up to her. You’d definitely give her longing glances, seeing how lonely she seemed. And you understand, you’re in that very same position.

When you did introduce yourself however, she seemed a bit aloof about the whole situation. And you were patient.

“..Is this seat taken?” The nervousness in your voice was obvious, even with how much you tried to mask it. Tried to control the shakiness of it as you stood next to the dull, wooden picnic table. The blonde, with her head in her hand slightly looked up at you, surveying you for a moment before resting her head once more.

“..No.” She quietly replied.

“Did you.. wanna sit here?-“

“YES!— ..Yes, if that’s okay with you, of course!”

YOU EMBARRASSED YOURSELF. NONOJKOJOBO. GODDAMNIT. THIS IS NOT HOW THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO GOOOOOOOO.

“Make yourself comfortable.” You could definitely hear that she was at least attempting to be optimistic in her tone, which you silently appreciated.

Quickly sitting down, you placed your tray in front of you and attempted to find the most comfortable position to sit in.

“..So, you moved here- from Minnesota, right?”

“Mhm.”

..Dry reply. But- that’s okay! You understand why.

“It’s nice to know someone else who’s similar to you. I moved here myself as well, though it was.. a few years ago now. I’m sure you’ll at the very least like it here.”

“Oh- shoot, sorry um.. I’m (___). Riley, right?”

“..Yeah. Riley Andersen.”

You didn’t miss the small smile she gave you.

YOU HAVE ACQUIRED A NEW FRIEND LIFE-LONG FRIEND! :DD

Well- of course after some causal conversation about interests, hobbies, etc.

The two of you exchanged socials so you could keep in touch, and the two of you started talking more often during school and out of school, planning stuff for future hangouts and such.

It was genuinely nice to talk with her and get to know each other’s interests, and your bullies at school seemed bewildered at the fact that you’d actually grown more confident to go out and make friends. Even if it was some new girl like Riley.

Though when she started distancing herself, giving dry responses such as: “K.”, “wtv”, “lol”, “bye.” The repetitiveness of this had gotten you worried to the point you couldn’t even think of anything else but possibly losing your new friend. You just met her!

And this dryness eventually turned into ignorance on her end.

Of course you were going to be a bit of a worrywart over your friend, you had no idea what was going on in her head— you just wanted to help her in any way possible, and the nagging feeling that was gnawing at you due to this was impossible to ignore any longer.

So, you texted Riley when you noticed she was online one day: “Hi Riri! I’m sorry for the sudden message, but I’ve taken note that you’ve been leaving my messages on read for a bit now, and as much as I can understand wanting space from social platforms, but I would at least like to know if you’re okay. So, I wanted to request a video call or a meetup, so we can talk about everything going on, and you can speak your mind. I just want to talk to you, please.”

Apart of you wanted to wait for a message, but the other part of you wanted to close your laptop and hide in the corner of your room.

Though, you couldn’t pick fast enough given the fact Riley had already started typing her reply- given the fact you could see that she was.

“Call, ig. Whenever.”

..You instantly called the moment you got the chance.

“..Riley?” You quietly spoke up shortly after your friend had picked up the call, the laptop resting in your lap as you stared at Riley through the screen.

Riley seemed more despondent than you had seen her before, as she avoided any eye contact with you. The way your heart felt like it was sinking to your stomach-

“Riley?”

“I’m fine, (___). That’s what this call is about, right?” She spoke so bluntly- you probably would’ve thought you were talking to someone entirely different if you didn’t see Riley’s face, or recognize her voice you’d grown accustomed to.

“Riri- no, well- yes.. but that’s not the only thing! I want to know if anything’s bothering you. You know you can always tell me anything going on.” You interjected, shocked of the situation which was unfolding before you.

“Oh yeah, right.” …She rolled her eyes.

“I’m serious!”

“I can tell you’re lying to me!” The way she yelled at you, looking at the screen- the way her eyes were filled with such hateful vitriol made you physically recoil, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. Did you do something to deserve this? Did you say something weird?? Maybe she’s just going through something and is so pent up because of it! But- with the way of how this conversation is unravelling, you really don’t think this is how this is gonna go.

With furrowed eyebrows, you frowned and surveyed her expression once more.

“You don’t understand what’s going on. You could never! And it’s not that you would even care anyways.” Riley continued, looking away from the screen once more before she tossed down her laptop onto her bed.

You really had no idea where any of these ideas were coming from.

Have you just not been a good friend? You’ve tried. You’ve tried so hard to be kind and courteous with your friend, you’ve tried so hard to genuinely help her, but it seems like all of your efforts are going to waste. Perhaps you didn’t try as hard as you thought in order to be a good enough friend who was worth hanging around with, worthy of love and being able to not beg for attention or seem needy.

Maybe they were right.

That you’re better off without any friends, that nobody would want to be your friend anyway.

You felt the tears welling up in your eyes.

“..Whatever.”

“Riley- wait-“

She closed her laptop, ending the call.

…what do you do now.

There’s no way to describe the next few hours during those moments.

You were up in your room, pacing, feeling a growing headache starting to blossom like a poisonous flower of sorts.

Nothing yet everything was going through your head at the same time, did she hate you? Was she going to drop you? What if you never see her again?? Would she hate your guts and actually try to humiliate you the next time you see her during school, or any other time?

Your breath hitches at the thought and you move yourself back up against a wall. Your parents weren’t home, they’re out probably galavanting around. It felt like blood was pounding through your ears, the feeling of a heart became unbearable and uncomfortable from the fact it was beating so fast, thudding against your chest. Your back slid against the wall as you curled up into a ball, hands shaking- entire body trembling. It just continued to get worse, whatever this was, as your vision became disfigured and distorted, as if you were looking through a fish-eye lens. You swear you felt your chest feel tighten, coupled with the fact it felt like bile was coming up your throat.

It felt disgusting.

All of it, you felt so sweaty, you felt filthy.

This is pathetic. (You don’t understand what’s happening.)

But you can’t move your body. It feels so stiff. The feeling of cotton in your mouth making you unable to speak, the heavy sensation of your limbs, the way the lights are too bright for your eyes now- it feels like the room os starting to spin, with the walls closing in, and the ceiling pressing down. You can't breathe anymore. You can't even scream as much as you wanted to at this moment.

The scariest thing about whatever’s happening still stands:

You have absolutely no clue what to do.

It makes you feel powerless. Weak. Pathetic and worthless.

Just like it does with the events that just unfolded with Riley.

And it makes you too tired.

Too tired to keep yourself awake.

Desperately, you find yourself trying to find some source of comforting within the rising heat of your own body, even with what’s happening. The tiredness begins to wash over, even with all of these feelings still present, and it genuinely makes you feel worse than it should. Everything about this feels wrong. You should be able to handle this- not freak out over it.

But you can’t help it.

You don’t know what else to do.

. . .

You don’t know how long you were passed out for.

But you realized that you’re on your bed right away. You found yourself turning on your lamp, before hastily starting to look around for a moment, around for your laptop. The moment you found it, you opened it, the time was the first thing you saw on the screen.

1 am.

You passed out for 2 hours.

Your parents must’ve come home and put you in your bed. Theres still lingering effects from whatever happened earlier, like a throbbing headache- and your eyes are incredibly dry, along with your throat.

It takes you a while before you slowly close your laptop, and shakily arise from your spot on your bed, finding yourself going downstairs to get a snack and a drink. Everything felt.. fuzzy, in a way you can’t describe. Derealization is a better way to describe it.

In languid movements, you grabbed a cold water bottle from the fridge, and decided to make yourself some simple microwaveable ramen.

Sitting there at the dinner table was awkward.

It felt lonely.

Depressing, even.

You attempt to distract yourself by drinking your water and focusing your attention on the outside sky, and the time on microwave.

You made sure you stopped it before the alarm went off.

Slowly eating, just.. wanted to not think about everything going wrong.

But you couldn’t stop it. You couldn’t do anything. You only made things worse, no?

Nothing else eventful happened during your time downstairs, and you finished up your food rather quickly, before cleaning up after yourself. You took your plastic water bottle with you, back to your room. Closing the door behind you, you placed the water bottle down on your nightstand before getting back into bed, the dim lighting allowing you to focus on your computer screen better.

A new message alert popped up on the screen.

It didn’t say who it was from, as you were just about to put in the password. The message left as fast as it appeared, and you barely saw it.

…

You quickly typed in your password, the screen resuming back to your chat logs with Riley. Where the new message was. You scrolled down, and saw the lengthy message in its entirety.

“(__), I know you’re probably asleep right now, but I know you’ll get this message when you wake up and I can’t get rid the guilt off of my consciousness because I’ve been thinking all about it ever since the call, but I’m so sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to be so rude, or accuse you of anything. That wasn’t right of me. I have not been going through an easy time, and I don’t wanna divulge that all to you right now, but perhaps in the future when I’m not so tired and emotional? But, I understand that you’re going to be upset with me over the situation, and may no longer want to be friends with me. If you do, I won’t hold it against you. I just hope you can forgive me eventually.”

You could feel more tears well up in your eyes.

Riley was currently offline, though. She probably went to sleep.

But you wouldn’t just not leave her without a response. So, you got to typing quickly.

“Hey, it’s okay, Riri! I understand. There’s absolutely no way I would leave you as a friend, you mean so much to me that I don’t think I can believe a future without you being there as my first friend. Of course we can always talk about it later, but don’t feel pressured to do so. I’ll let you know again that I won’t pry information out of you, I’ll only be there to comfort you in anyway I can! You’re my best friend, Riri. I care so much about you, okay? Never be scared to tell me anything. (Sorry for the fact this is really short, I am so tired and have a headache- lol.)”

You two eventually talked about the whole ordeal eventually.

Overall, you two are inseparable!

Now, if we’re going to time-skip a bit to now where you’re also friends with Bree and Grace, you’re all still inseparable.

Maybe you play hockey- maybe you don’t, and play a different ice sport (ie: Ice Skating).

Nevertheless, you’re all incredibly good friends. You schedule hangouts as often as you can, understand each other, open up to each other, learn interests and hobbies you’re all interested. You enjoy each other’s company.

Bree is a great listener, and she actually sometimes will partake in some of your hobbies with you while you’re also doing them, even if she has no idea what it is. Like, if you’re drawing, she’d grab her own sketchbook and start drawing herself! (Though, neither of your drawings may not be good, you appreciate it). If you do actually play in a different sport, such as Ice Skating, you’d probably try and teach her some different moves- though she’d fail miserably. She’s at least trying, and that’s what you appreciate! Silent time with her is something you also enjoy having with her, because she’s one of the most comfortable people to be with (no offense to the others).

Grace is probably one of the funniest people in the group (not that the other two aren’t funny, its just that she’s so out of pocket at random points that it’s so perplexing yet, hilarious). You all could be silent for a moment while eating something, and then she says one of the most BEWILDERING things ever in human history. It shocks all of you to the CORE. (Don’t lie, we all have this one friend). If you tried showing her some moves in Ice Skating, she’d probably get some right. Though ultimately, she’d be decently stiff and fail in the end. But failure is a learning stone, not something to look down upon! She’s your favorite person to be around if you wanna get your hair braided or laugh so hard you can’t breathe.

Now, back to Riley. Even with Grace and Bree, you two still hold the closest relationship, given your guy’s background, you two talk the most to each other. You’ll blabber something about one of your interests, and she’ll add onto it, and then it’ll be a back and forth of questions from her and answers along with fun facts from you. You even got her into doing some of your hobbies from time to time! If you were to show her some moves in Ice Skating, she’d just admire. SHE WOULD NEVER DO IT. She would be too anxious, and freak out before even doing anything, so she just gives you a thumbs up. Though, if you implored a bit, she’d definitely give in and absolutely FAIL. (None of these girls know how to Ice Skate). Nevertheless, she’s one of your favorite people overall, and you care about her tons.

Now if we fast forward even more towards the end of the Inside out 2 movie, to where Val and her friends come into play..

Val is a gentle, yet firm person. Even with the age gap, you both are stille good friends and care for each other. She’s more like a mother figure to you, but still. You two managed to find a few hobbies the both of you enjoy that you both partake in whenever you can/are available, to which you both take great delight and joy in. Both because you enjoy each others company, but because you can relax and don’t have to worry about conversation, because if you/her want it to be silent- it’s comforting, but if you/her wish to engage in lighthearted banter about anything in general, it feels natural and genuine. Not forced, like you two have to keep talking, but that if you want to, you can! If you tried to show her any Ice-Skating moves, she’d definitely be the best at accuracy and skill. What can I say, she’s a woman of many talents! (She still fails). The best person if you need someone to go talk to. #ibelieveintherapistfriendvalortiz.

Romantic:

Yk this girl is so anxious.

I feel like her love language is acts of service. Ngl.

Taking everything from the platonic area as a prequel to this, she definitely knew she had a crush on you the moment she actually started seeing so many things about you that she hadn’t noticed before or really taken attention to: Your smile seemed much more genuine, your eyes had this small shone to them she originally didn’t see, the way you were by her side when she asked to console her- rubbing her back in circular motions, hugging her firmly yet softly.

….WHAT IS HAPPENING. HELP. WHAT DOES SHE DO???

WHAT IS THIS FEELING.

Amia is behind the console, and accidentally made her so confused with this sudden romantic attraction. (IM SORRY, I WANTED TO HAVE AN EXCUSE TO BRING HER UP).

She definitely starts trying to get closer to you as possible, scheduling more private hangouts for just the two of you- such as picnics, hangouts at her house. And she would use the fact that Grace and Bree wouldn’t be able to make it to her house at the time to her advantage/as an excuse.

Though, the downside is the fact she’s too anxious to even speak to you half of the time. Too anxious to genuinely do anything- even get closer like she originally intending.

..She eventually asked her parents for some advice. Which, may or may have not been a good idea.

Even with that, they still did help in their own way.

So the next time you went to leave your house for whatever, you’d discover a letter at your doorstep. The next day after that, flowers and chocolates. Though they weren’t expensive gifts, they were something.

You noticed that Riley actually started doing things for you before you even asked. You were about to ask her for a glass of water whole the two of you were relaxing at either her or your house, and she’s already handing the glass. You were about to ask her to pass her one of the ingredients you needed while cooking, and she’s already placed it into your hand. Trying to open the door? She already opened it for you, about to leave? She’s got your bag for you before you leave, full of everything you could needed. It’s gotten to the point where you’re actually a bit scared of her intuition.

Perhaps you may have had a crush on her too? Who knows. You decide, after all.

It’s.. hard to pinpoint when this whole ordeal started unraveling, but nevertheless- you felt very… odd at first. Why was she doing all of this for you? A part of you wanted to say that it was all just her being extra friendly on accident and that it meant nothing- but another part of you thought differently.

But the idea of someone having a crush on you felt absolutely and utterly absurd, ridiculous, and incredulous!

You two are just friends! (Just friends.. okay, right/sarc).

She would.. never think of you in romantic sense, there’s just no possible way. (De Nile is a river in Egypt🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️‼️‼️‼️/ref).

(OMFG I NEED TO STOP. IM GIGGLING TOO MUCH AND BEING IMMATURE. But it’s silly).

Nevertheless, you just.. cannot accept it as true. It’s just some actions, it’s nothing that serious! You’re over-analyzing and overthinking it! Stop thinking like that!

..But it doesn’t go away. The itching sensation in the back of your brain never leaves. You’ve started to think about it 24/7, and as much as you try to push it down and say you’re overreacting, it’s still there- even diminutively. It’s. Always. There.

With the more time you spend trying to rid of the suspicion and feeling, you’ve started noticing little things about Riley yourself: The way she looks at you just a little longer than anyone else with a look in her eyes that is indescribable, the way she waits for you at the door as you pick up your phone and holds it open for you, the way she leans closer to you whenever watching any movie- and perhaps in a too intimate way. Like, she gets too close and rests her head on your shoulder, nuzzling herself into your neck ever so subtly.

..I think it’s safe to say you’re getting attracted to her.

ESPECIALLY WHEN SHE’S PLAYING AT A HOCKEY GAME AND SHE WALKS UP TO YOU LOOKING ALL PRETTY, WITH THE WAY THE SUN REFLECTS OFF OF HER SLIGHTLY DAMPENED HAIR-

…

Yeah, yeah you are.

You’re blushing so hard at the realization of what the hell is happening right now. And you’re way too nervous to tell her anything. You even found out she was the one who left those small gifts at your doorstep. How?

Well..

“I’ll go get us some snacks from downstairs, ’ll be right back!” Riley’s voice sounded out, and you looked up from her sketchbook you’d been using with her permission!with a small smile on your face as you nodded in understanding, before she rather quickly shuffled out of the door and downstairs. You went back to doodling on the sketchbook.

You were just going to pay attention to what you were going to draw next, you saw a small piece of paper sticking out on another page.

..you should not be prying- but, perhaps she drew something!

The excitement filled you as you flipped to the page, where you were meet with no drawing of any kind. But instead, there was a note which was ripped. It was written rather quickly, and the confusion of what you were seeing quickly filled you. But looking at the first few lines had you shocked and blushing like crazy.

‘I had given them a few gifts to leave on their doorstep like my parents..’

Instantly, you closed the sketchbook all together, head racing with so many thoughts at the same time.

She was the one who left those gifts?…

You couldn’t believe it, at all.

Perhaps it was for a different person? (But it was too similar).

What the hell were you supposed to do now????

Wait for some sort of date from her?

Or ask her out yourself?

Both would be.. nerve wracking, but you knew you had to make a move soon, or you probably would never have another chances. You felt scared, more nervous than you had ever before in your life, but you seriously thought that there was going to be no other option.

You had to do it sooner rather than later, in fear of what would happen.

Especially with the possibility of ruining your relationship, you’d take the risk. For the both of you. This way, you could learn if she was truly being more friendly to you for some reason or for none at all and she simply felt like it.

But then another problem came up:

You had absolutely zero idea on how to ask someone out.

..what do you do now.

Well, you at the very least- knew it had to be romantic. Something genuine. None of that faux stuff!

So, you decided on a rather fancy picnic, that appeared to be more of a tea party instead of a small picnic with the fact that you wanted it to be much more different…

There was a large glass table with an umbrella stuck in the middle and unfolded as to keep those safe from the bright sunlight, delicately covered with an embroidered lace cloth.

Upon the table, there are an array of delectable snacks and drinks, carefully arranged. Elegant porcelain teapots, each filled with a different fragrant tea, sat alongside dainty teacups with gold-rimmed edges. Platters of finger sandwiches, scones with clotted cream and jam.

(You don’t remember how long this took, given you used old antiques and cleaned them so many times- just in case, and made all of these foods yourself. You borrowed the fancy table from your garage and cleaned it down, given it hadn’t been used in years, and brought some simple- yet fancy looking chairs from your house as well).

And you spent quite a bit making sure the letter you sent to Riley was perfect.

You were sat in one of the chairs, dressed in one of your most fancy outfits. You didn’t want to look foolish during this, after all- you made it all look this fancy for a reason!

It was a nice day out today, given that it wasn’t very cold or too warm to be uncomfortable. The sun was on the horizon, and the moon was rising as the stars started shining within the soft colors of pink and orange in the sky. Honestly, it felt more like a dream that this was happening.

And the way you’re genuinely panicking internally-

“(___)?” You heard someone speak up, and you turned your head to look at..

Riley, who was in her fanciest dress, you noted., Though you know she’s not one to dress so formal unless it’s an important event. The dress was white, right above her ankles with a floral design embroidered into it. Even on the slightly puffy sleeves. Though, she was still wearing her converse, with plain white socks to match. Her hair was styled into topsy tail ponytail from what you could see, and a flower clip in her hair.

“Why, don’t look rather ravishing!” You immediately said without another thought, and she blushed at the remark.

“Thank you- you look great yourself!” She nervously laughed while smiling, blush growing on her cheeks. A moment of silence passed between you two, before you spoke again.

“Well don’t just stand there, come sit with me.” Riley instantly became stiff, before nodding and scampering on over to the empty seat in front of you. You gave a lighthearted laugh before subconsciously wiping your hands down the sides of your outer garments.

The two of you stayed in somewhat awkward silence before striking up conversation with one another, talking about the things you did- not including anything.. personal (fangirling over one another) But, instead things you weren’t together for, like actives you did with family, or games/practice you had. Riley even commented on how well made and delicious the food tasted, which made you blush HARD. You were so giddy, yet so anxious at the same time- you felt the need to throw up.

“Thanks again for inviting me.” Riley spoke again before taking another bite of her macaroon, as you simply nodded. You’d found yourself going quiet as you continued to eat your food and sip upon your favorite drink the fancy, porcelain tea cup.

..how were you going to confess your feelings to her after she finds the little note stored in one of the macaroon? How will she react? Will you be able to speak fast enough? Will she accept this, or hate you for the rest of your time together as friends???

Your body was tense as you thought of all the horrible ways this conversation could go after she-

“Oh! Cool, some of them have little fortunes- like fortune cookies!” CURSES.

Riley’s face changed from one of joy, to one of perplexity as she read the small piece of paper, before looking up at you with the same look.

She could definitely see how pink your cheeks were.

REACT, IDIOT, YOU LOOK LIKE AN IMBECILE FOR JUST SITTING THERE!

“..(___)-“

“Riley Andersen, will you be my girlfriend!!?” You slapped your hands over your mouth the moment you said that. The words spill from your mouth like word vomit so quickly you had no time to react while you were saying it, only afterwards did you truly realize what you did.

Her mouth went agape, blinking a few times as she simply stared at you in shock, before her expression changed to a softer one and smiling wide.

“Of course.”

Now, isn’t that banal?

But it’s the way that it happened.

(Side note: you’ll never get to know what the slip of paper said 🫶😋)

Nah it was just some rhyming, and cringey poem that would continue with you saying aloud ‘Riley Andersen, will you be my girlfriend?’

You two are both very awkward to show each other any sort of affection in public, or in private at first. But; it started with Riley slowly- trying (and, failing) to be subtle, holding your hand in public.

Grace and Bree are the first two people you three told about your relationship after you got together the other day. Val being the third.

The more comfortable you get, the more you tell other people, like Riley’s Parents.

They definitely would take you to those Pride parades to show their support, ik it. Prove me wrong rn.

Nevertheless, all of them are incredibly supporting of your relationship!

The more comfortable you two get in the relationship, the emotional and touchy you get (not in that way 🤨).

Like, more hugs (back-hugs, random hugs, etc) between you two, more cheek/forehead kisses, cuddling for the first time, first time kiss, etc. The whole spiel.

Now… on the topic of the first kiss..

It happened at her house while it was just the two of you. Her parents were off at their jobs, and it was summer break. How it happened is.. decently embarrassing. She was leaning in to give you a cheek kiss, until you turned your head in her direction, purely for the reason you were going to ask her a question. It wasn’t until your lips were both connected did you realize what was going on.

Safe to say that both of you were blushing messes.

Grace and Bree tease you often about your relationship, not in a rude way- ofc, but in a friendly way. Val, gives small remarks from time to time, but they don’t mean anything rude by it!

Your relationship overall is pretty healthy, even with some small arguments here and there, and might even struggle with some miscommunication.

Your guy’s relationship though has its ups and downs, like any other, but you’ll always try your best.

For Riley.

Your wonderful girlfriend <3.

. . .

“All we’ve been able to think about is (___) this entire week!” Disgust exclaimed, not necessarily in a bad way, but moreover in a.. realization kind of way. Looking down at the console, which was a deep pink color.

“Isn’t it wonderful!? (___) is so lovely… WE COULD THINK ABOUT THEM EVERYDAY from now on! They’re so kind, sweet, beautiful, and so much more!!” Amia beamed happily while clasping her hands together.

“Says the Love Emotion..” Fear remarked quietly to himself, before sipping his tea. That quickly earned a glare from her, which had him running off in a hurry.

“It’s good though! It proves we’re a genuine partner, and that we’re truly smitten with them!” Joy added, ruffling Amia’s hair as the smaller emotion giggled.

“..They can never be boring, you know?” Ennui, leisurely laid on the couch, said. Laughing a bit.

“BUT, What if they think we’re being too much of an overbearing partner though!?” Anxiety yelped aloud, jumping out of her ‘special’ chair to run up to the console, as if looking for tanything that could be a sign or anything possibly wrong. That only lasted for a moment before she backed away, flapping her hands and pacing around.

Joy stared for a second, smile dropping before sighing, shaking her head in disapproval and a softer expression taking over.

“They could never! They love us, Anxiety. They’re being genuine. Just look at Riley and (___) together right now.” The emotion’s hands rested upon Anxiety’s shoulders, gently leading them towards the console to stare at what was happening with Riley at this very moment.

Riley and (___) were happy with their current circumstance. Genuinely contempt. They were currently star gazing in a nearby park, the moonlight’s soft rays of light hitting the couple’s faces, as if it were a true person- caressing their faces ever so gently. Their hands intertwined, and focused on each other, along with the stars to witness their own date. They really could stay like this forever, leisurely sitting in the lush grass near the jagged rocks of the lake to which the light was reflecting off of against the moving waves.

(___) rested their head upon Riley’s shoulder, eyes slowly closing from the tiredness that’d accumulated over the day. And hesitantly, she leaned her head atop of yours.

They were really here. It wasn’t just some wild and crazy dream that dream productions crafted, but instead it was reality, the meticulous reality that now Riley and (___) live with.

It really was idyllic.

This took so long… i can confirm because my phone is lagging so much while typing all of this + my Acheron!reader.

WHICH IM WORKING ON I PROMISE

Enjoy my blood, sweat, and tears(PLEASE. PHONE IS LAGGING SO BAD)

[turtletaubwrites]

Numbers Game ~ Chapter 32

Make Your Bets Now!

Pairings: Cross Guild Polycule x Shanks x Fem!Reader x ???

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 12,614 😳😳

Ao3 Link

Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Chapter Tunes: A Forest ~ The Cure | Burn Your Village ~ Kiki Rockwell

Summary: The White Stag is chased through the woods. The hunters begin to show their true colors, while the prey just tries to survive. You might not be the only one running away.

Recap: The banquet is underway, and you were dressed as the White Stag. You met your nine suitors, some of whom came as a shock. You gave each hunter an arrow, a symbol of their right to claim you. Uncle Cedrick just gave you a ten minute head start.

Author's Note: Hi!!! Thank you so much for your patience while I've been dealing with all the things! I've still been writing, as you can tell by the word count! 😬 Lol, I did a poll way back when Shanks first arrived asking if y'all would prefer two regular size chapters with no smut in one, or one giant chapter with the smut. So here ya go, lol, you asked for it! 😅🤭

Content Warning: There's not much dark content to warn for this chapter (besides the usual Numbers Game shenanigans & Buggy's POV on the Dr. Vorsan visit), but I wanted to give a heads up that there is a flashback of the 14 year old reader having a crush on an adult. Nothing occurs, but there is some very mild creepiness that could be interpreted as inappropriate. I WILL NEVER write about minors in that way, so please know that this is just a teenage crush! In case you would like to skip that, I'll bracket it with these ~~~⚫~~~

Fic Updates & Questions:

I will be retroactively adding titles to all chapters. I prefer to have titles for every chapter of a fic, but decided not to add them when I thought this was going to be a one shot 🤦🏼‍♀️ (We're getting closer to the end, and outlining will be way easier if I can remember which chapter things happened in, lol.) I'm going with quotes/lines from the chapters for the title theme. Also, I only used "part" instead of "chapter" on tumblr for formatting space, but I always call them chapters so 🤷‍♀️

Since this is a reader insert fic (that I thought would be a one shot 😅), I've tried to keep as many personal details as vague as possible so that we can all hop onto that lovely, green couch. I'm not planning to state the reader's age within the fic, but as we get further into the story, some of you numbers girl's may be able to figure out the math based on the flashbacks and such. I have a whole ass timeline graphed out, so if anyone is interested in knowing the specific ages and dates of related OP canon and Numbers Game canon, I'd be down to make a separate post just for that.

Alternate POV Symbols:

🌲 ~ Reader | 🐊 ~ Crocodile | 🗡 ~ Mihawk | 🤡 ~ Buggy | 🔴 ~ Shanks | ⏰ ~ Flashbacks for listed POV | ⚫ ~ Scenes depicting Dark Content as listed in Author's Notes

!!! SPOILER WARNING !!! Fic currently contains spoilers for the end of the Wano arc. As we get further into Egghead Arc, there will be some spoilers (mainly from manga cover stories or SBS questions for minor characters' motivations, such as what the Vinsmoke's and Charlotte's have been up to since Wano, and why they'd want to marry our lovely heiress.)

Rating/Warnings: Author May Choose to Exclude some Warnings to Avoid Spoilers for Certain Chapters, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Use of Y/N, Dark Content, Blood & Violence, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Dissociation, Mental Illness, Grief, Toxic Family, Swearing, Alcohol, Cigars, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Guilt, Drama, Jealousy, Manipulation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Pain Kink, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Blowjobs, Threats, Relationship Drama, Anal, Doctors, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Uncle Cedrick Has Become His Own Warning, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“I told you to run.”

Uncle Cedrick wet his lips after he hissed at you again, smirking while you transformed for him, and for his silent hunters and cheering guests. 

The white stag. The hunted. The prey. 

You’d never felt less human than you did right now, and the sense of danger in the air sent you racing toward the trees. 

It was disorienting to move in this fumbling body. Some foul magic must have stolen your hooves, your graceful limbs, your fur to fend off the cool breeze of the night. 

All you had left were your antlers, but they couldn’t help you flee. You escaped your heels, kicking free from the tight shoes as though they were traps meant to hold you still for the hunters to find. The dress made you panic, the weight of it wearing you down like trash left to suffocate creatures too helpless to free themselves from human garbage. You tried to lift the heavy skirts while you ran, but the train dragged behind you, catching on roots and branches as you fled. 

Logic started to break through the adrenaline in bits and pieces, but the forest had pulled you into a dream.

“This isn’t a dream,” you panted to yourself, slowing down to lean against a tree. 

That wild panic had left you with no idea how long you’d been running, but your heart was trying to escape from your body, and your lungs struggled to catch up as you let yourself stop. 

That should be enough drama for Uncle’s show. Why should I care who catches me first? I have to date all of them anyway. 

And the fear was back. 

Nine men were about to stalk you through the woods at night, and you’d just run deeper into the darkness, like a fucking idiot.

Though you doubted that staying closer to the courtyard would have made you any safer. All of those leeches were here to watch the show. They’d probably already placed bets on which hunter would get his greedy hands on you first.

Don’t cry. 

You almost did. Every time you thought you could accept your fate, Uncle Cedrick found ways to make it more torturous, more humiliating. 

Apathy tried to protect you, a welcome friend that lulled your emotions to sleep until you stared into nothing, your logical mind reciting your thoughts on a loop to distract from what you were putting away.

I already gave the leeches a good show. It doesn’t matter who catches me first. 

Useless rage replaced your apathy in a flash at the memory of the traitor touching your skin. Shanks was the last man you wanted to catch you, but Uncle’s threats felt like hidden traps, like suffocating trash, like this stupid dress that snagged on every branch. 

I won’t give them anything else to hurt me with. 

Crashes and yells entered the forest like a storm, and you were the white stag again.

You ran. 

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

Shanks had only been gone for a day, but the clown found himself aching for him in a way he hadn’t in years. 

Letting Shanks back in had opened the door to all this shit he’d tried to stuff away, but he didn’t have room for all of these feelings right now. Not when his star was slurring her words, her voice high and distant while she tried to convince this fucking doctor that all their time together had meant nothing.

“It was all pretend. I was bored. I know it was risky behavior, I s-see that nn…”

“I’m glad you’re expressing that awareness, Y/N,” Dr. Vorsan’s voice bore down even through her frantic heartbeat, “but you still haven’t talked about the clown. It’s important that we understand our triggers so that we can prevent future episodes.”

She’s not breathing!

“You don’t want to have any more episodes, do you, Y/N?”

“No,” she agreed, though Buggy barely heard her over her now ragged breath. 

“Good. Part of staying well means cooperating with your treatment,” the slimeball purred. “Why did you go with the clown?”

“He was sweet. And funny... I liked him.”

Buggy looked to the ceiling, unknowable emotions pulling his face into a grimace. 

“You just told me that it was all pretend. That you were bored.”

“I, yes…”

“Clarity, Y/N,” the pompous creep scolded. “We can’t make changes if we don’t acknowledge our patterns. Why did you go with the clown?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Buggy growled.

The next words he heard had to be from her lips, but it sounded wrong, as though she’d been possessed by the concept of emptiness itself. His star was hollow. 

Gone. 

“I used him. I wanted to run. I’m selfish.”

No, baby, don’t say that.

The fucker didn’t say anything for too long. He couldn’t hear any rustling, only his empty star, breathing just enough to keep her alive. 

“Your family was very worried for you. That extreme, self destructive behavior—“

“I know,” Y/N snapped, then Buggy heard the sound of skin against skin, as though she’d slapped her hand over her mouth. “I’m s-s-sorry, doctor, I…”

“It’s quite, alright, Y/N,” the man fucking chuckled. “You’ve just experienced an episode that must have caused some additional trauma, but you’re safe now.”

Buggy hadn’t taken notes, and he looked down to find a shredded notepad on his lap, his shaky hands clenching into the paper. 

“Do you want to be safe?”

“Yes, doctor,” Y/N stated, the gravity of a black hole in her voice. 

“Was it safe to run away with pirates?”

What the fuck is he doing to her? 

“No.”

“Good. Now, tell me about the clown.”

Circles and circles of this talk spun through Buggy’s mind, and it seemed like nothing was said, yet he could hear his star break a little more with every word. 

“I’ll rip his tongue out, baby. Make him eat it for you. Don’t listen to him.”

“Excellent work today. Self reflection is difficult, but it’s the only way to heal.”

“Thank… Thank you, doctor.”

“There’s no need to thank me. You have the power to stay well all on your own, as long as you put in the work to take care of yourself. Just try to remember the kind of life you wish to have. You don’t want to lose yourself in another episode, do you, Y/N?”

“No, doctor.”

The clown laid in silence for hours while his broken lover did the same. Somehow Y/N built herself up again, preparing to head to dinner with her sister, and her voice was almost as clear as it had been before the session. 

She keeps all of this inside… I didn’t even—

“Come on, little clown. Don’t eat dinner on the floor again.”

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

The Emperor of the Sea followed an usher to his seat, feeling high as he twirled the decorative arrow in his fingers. He was lucky to have made it in time, and luckier still that Y/N had looked at him like that. Shanks was sure that it wasn’t really lust in those magnetic eyes of hers. Buggy’s fallen star was difficult to read, but it had to be a message. An opening. 

I’ll get you out of here, Y/N. 

Even Benn’s smirking face couldn’t diminish the flames she’d warmed in him, his first mate pulling his seat out while he approached. The last few tables at the edge of the courtyard seemed filled with guests that were either late or large, the nearest competitor being the two story tall Prince Fukaboshi. 

Before Shanks could greet his rival, Sylvad’s voice carried through the night air, testing the Emperor’s ability to fake a smile. 

“Thank you all for joining our family as we celebrate the hunt for a new member! I am honored to help strengthen the Sylvad legacy by making sure that my enchanting niece finds the most loving, and of course, the most profitable match,” he admitted with a smug laugh. “Just as this marks the beginning of a new era for our family, I’m sure that most of you have sensed the shift in the waters.”

Cedrick paused for effect with Y/N posed like some pretty doll at his side while his guests murmured in agreement.

“For generations, the Sylvad’s have stood in enthusiastic support of the Marines. Although I still pay them an exorbitant amount to show up when I call, their many recent failures, and acts of overreaching, have shown them to be nothing more than expensive, and exceedingly annoying guard dogs.”

The laughter he drew was mixed, both nervous and pleased, and Shanks was sure he wasn’t the only one to catch the threat in those playful words. 

“The world is changing, and I intend to keep my family strong, even if we have to shoo the seagulls away,” he vowed with enough humor to keep the mood light. “But enough about all that, we’re here to enjoy ourselves. Let’s welcome in the New Era together with a good old fashioned hunt!”

Confusion was clouded by the applause Cedrick had demanded with his gestures and tone after he offered Y/N a hand. Watching that man touch her had Shanks’ jaw clenching, holding himself back while she truly looked like prey under his smirking grin.

“I think our white stag is feeling a bit skittish, but that's nothing a little chase can't fix. The first hunter to catch her claims the first date!”

Shanks watched in horror as Cedrick led his niece to the edge of the courtyard, speaking to her too softly to hear before she ran toward the trees, stumbling in that fucking costume he’d stuffed her into. 

Benn nudged his ankle, stopping Shanks from finishing his movement. Gryphon was on the ship anyway, and he wasn’t sure what use his sword would do other than to comfort his helpless soul.

I’m a villain now. Maybe I should just kill everyone here. 

He chugged the glass of wine in front of him, as though swallowing the liquor could help him swallow the layers of guilt that made no sense to him.

The bright light of that wounded star disappeared into the trees, but there was no reprieve. A large, white canvas was rolled out over the side of the manor walls while servants pushed a massive transponder snail on a wheeled cart up the path. The courtyard was silent until the snail’s eyes flickered, its mouth open as sounds of heavy breathing and snapping twigs came through before the live feed was projected. 

Two images appeared on that blank wall, bringing gasps and applause from the guests while Sylvad preened.

“In ten minutes,” he announced, doing a flourish as a timer popped up on the frantic screen, “the hunt for the white stag begins. The man that touches her first wins the hunt, and will earn the first private date tomorrow evening, as well as the pleasure of dining with the lovely doe tonight.”

The lovely doe in question was panting as she kicked off her heels, running barefoot through the woods. On the left was a jostled scene of darkness and trees, but as she looked down to lift her skirts, it was clear that a cam snail must be on her head, maybe hidden in those antlers. The second image continued to flip, showing her running and struggling through the brush from endless angles. 

Does he have a surveillance snail on every fucking tree on this island?

“What a strange courtship custom,” Prince Fukaboshi noted quietly, although his size let the words carry enough for Shanks to let out a sharp laugh, smiling up at the merman to cover his anger before Sylvad continued.

“You may woo my niece however you like, so long as it doesn’t cause her unsalvageable harm, or remove her from this island. I won’t have my vacation home turned into a war zone, so do watch your violence. I know that some of you have had disagreements in the past, but let’s keep the fighting to a minimum unless it’s part of a game, alright lads? We wouldn’t want to spoil the fun for everyone.”

Leeches…

Servants came around to all the tables to take bets from the guests while the courtyard followed the white stag’s every, panicked step. 

Hawk was right, this security is something else.

“This isn’t a dream.”

“Aww, isn’t she a darling,” a diamond-studded, older woman crooned, inspiring more guests to make noises about how precious she looked while she caught her breath, eyes blank as she leaned against a tree. 

“You’re gonna catch that little bunny, aren’t ya, Captain?”

Shanks let out a breath, finally breathing, when he met his first mate’s gaze. Benn was steady, the curve of his lips and shine of his eyes hiding the intensity from those that didn’t know him, but his captain recognized the look. 

It’s time to get serious.

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🤡🗡️~~~

Easy silence wrapped around the three men during dinner, interspersed with deep, hushed voices, and the scratching of Buggy’s pen while he doodled. He couldn’t help but feel thankful for the less noteworthy hours that had passed since his star had met with the doctor. 

“Zala checked in,” Crocodile reported between bites. “Guess she wasn’t suited to the restaurant business after all.”

“That’s Miss Doublefinger, yes?”

“Not anymore,” he sighed at Mihawk’s question. “Zala used to work well with Daz Bonez, and she’s investigating Dr. Vorsan. Refused to help without bringing Marianne along though… Ms. Goldenweek.”

“The child,” Mihawk questioned, giving a gentle tilt to his head. His lover seemed to get touchy when his old organization was brought up. 

“She’s eighteen now,” came the curt answer, although the larger man almost smiled at those damn, golden eyes. 

“Uncle ChodeTick’s talking to her, taking a walk,” Buggy reported, guilt cutting them off before they could get too flirty. The clown scribbled his notes, the easy silence less easy now. 

Mihawk’s lifetime of dedication to becoming the strongest did nothing for him now. All he could do was watch every subtle, pained expression on Buggy’s face while he suffered, the bravest of them all. 

“The agents are infiltrating the asylum the doctor runs when he’s not fucking with our girl,” Crocodile shared, his voice hushed. 

“Sending a teenager to infiltrate an insane asylum? You are ruthless, aren’t you,” Mihawk flirted lightly. He was learning this man, and for the first time he wasn’t making excuses about why. His tone paid off, and he smirked at the playful look on that scarred face.

“Marianne‘ll be fine, I’m sure she’s looking forward to art therapy. Plus, Zala will— what’s wrong, Buggy?”

The clown gestured for silence while his face went red with rage, listening to the rules, and the threats that her monster of an uncle was caging his star with. 

“FUCK!!”

The nearly empty plates and glasses went flying as Buggy flipped the table, his body shaking in every direction, unable to sit with himself for another second.

“I’m pathetic! I can’t help her. I can’t fucking do ANYTHING!”

Crocodile and Mihawk caught as many pieces of him as they could, and wrapped themselves around Buggy until he breathed again, holding most of his body between them. 

“Don’t say that, Buggy.”

“Shh, little clown. You’ve done enough.”

“He’s gonna make her…” Buggy barely managed to choke out the sound, glad that the asshole had left her alone already. One more word from his lips would have made the him explode. 

Her words were worse though. 

“She said she’s gonna fuck the ones she…” He cried out between their now stiff bodies. “He threatened her with… She has to…”

“She has to do what, Buggy,” Crocodile asked, amazed at how steady his voice was while he knelt down to meet the clown’s tired eyes. He kept his hand stroking along his side, that body slumping instead of flying apart now. 

He couldn’t say it, exhaustion making the clown sway against Crocodile’s touch before he floated his hand toward the mess he’d made of the table. Mihawk caught the notepad, his eyes going apocalyptic as he read over Cedrick’s “rules” for the games.  

The swordsman wanted to fly into violence and rage, to turn to ice, and make everything in his path disappear. 

But Buggy’s eyes made him pause, the words on the page having too many consequences, too much weight. 

“Buggy, she said this in anger, did she not? I doubt she’ll really—“

“You didn’t hear him,” Buggy snapped, starting to float and pace while Crocodile read the notes. The clown snatched the notepad off the floor after the scarred man dropped it, his hand shaking with rage. 

“He’s twisted,” Buggy continued.

“He’s dead,” came a rough voice, the fury of a sandstorm barely contained in that vow. 

“Yes, he is,” Mihawk promised as he reached for Buggy. He pushed that lovely, blue hair behind the remaining ear, almost smiling at the ear plug he found. “We will get her out of there, but we need you sane. If our little rabbit needs to take care of herself, we’ll find a way to keep you—“

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Buggy floated just out of reach, glaring down at the swordsman as though he’d started speaking some alien language. 

“You shouldn’t have to listen to that, little clown,” Crocodile soothed, resting his own rage when he realized what Mihawk was saying. “If it happens, we’ll make it loud over here so you can’t hear, or you could—“

“You want me to shove my fingers in my ears while her screams echo through the halls,” Buggy hissed. His anger was building up around him, heating the air, strangling any sense of peace from the room as those old words hit their mark. 

The two monsters under his glare froze, shame stunning them into silence. 

“You think I said I’d rather watch you fuck my star into oblivion just for FUN,” he seethed, his eyes going manic while he floated above them. “I’m a sick fuck, and ended up having flashy, old time, but that’s not why I had to watch.”

He was that frightening showman again, and they were drawn into his act. 

“I’m sorry, Bug—“

“I made myself watch while you took her from me,” he recalled in an almost sing-song voice that chilled the other men’s blood. “I watched and watched, because… I have to listen because…”

The crack in his own voice made him waver, dipping in the air a bit while he stared at the pained faces of these terrifying men. 

“What if they hurt her?”

Silence clashed with the cacophony inside their minds until Crocodile reached toward the clown again, gripping into his shoulder, and sending fear flashing through him while their faces grew closer. 

“We’ll kill them.”

“B-but–”

“Come on, brave, little clown,” Crocodile breathed over his trembling lips. “Why don’t you show me all your toys, huh? How many Buggy Balls would it take to blow up that whole fucking island if we need to?”

As they sighed, falling into the relief of distraction together, Mihawk sank against the wall, becoming nothing more than a threatening statue. He could have tried to grab onto the lifeline his lovers had just created, that comforting moment of camaraderie in violence while the clown indulged in and shared one of his favorite topics.

Yet, the swordsman couldn’t let it go. 

His little rabbit, forced to bed her captors again. 

She’s strong. She’s wicked. She’ll enjoy herself. Then we’ll get her back.

The fear that Y/N might enjoy herself enough to not want to return left Mihawk sick. He had to step outside, wandering down to the garden he’d barely thought of since she was no longer there to smell it on him. 

He found himself fisting into the dirt in that walled garden, huffing a laugh when he smelled the faint, sour scent on his fingers before wiping them on his pants. Red flashed in his mind, and the ex-Warlord sat in the dirt, wishing that love and trust were as simple to cultivate as the garden he’d been too preoccupied to plant. 

“I trust you,” Mihawk whispered to his red haired lover across the sea. The thought of how insufferable Shanks would be if he ever uttered those words in front of him brought a soft smile to his lips. “Please, bring her back. I need her by my side.”

~~~🐊🤡🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Time was a human construct, and as your ungraceful body ran like the prey he had transformed you into, you couldn’t tell how long it took for the yells and crashes to race toward you. 

Eternity. 

One fucking second.

A clearing appeared before you, but as you stepped into the open space, an impossible man filled up your world. He knelt down, still towering over you, and all the sounds of chaos in the forest faded while his crimson eyes asked for permission.

Katakuri reached for you, his massive hand outstretched, but he didn’t grab you. 

There was no way you could describe the subtle shift in those stunning eyes when you lifted your hand to take his, but they went wide before you made contact, his hand shooting out impossibly fast behind you. The giant of a man wasn’t fast enough, and cold fear poured through you before you had a warm body wrapped around yours from behind.

“I’ve got you, bunny,” Shanks purred, breathing a little hard as he pressed his lips against your ear. His arm was wrapped around you, holding you tight, as though you were a prize the others would try to tear from his grip. 

You wished they would.

“If we were allowed to wear our raid suits we would have–”

“Don’t complain, brother,” a taunting voice floated through the trees while Shanks looked you over, never taking his hand off of you while he guided you through the trees. “We’ll have plenty more chances. Our little bride likes being hunted, remember? You heard what the old man said about the Cross–”

A strange noise left your throat when Shanks bent down to wrap his arm under your thighs, lifting you up over his shoulder before running too fucking fast. Running until you saw the lovely lanterns again, until the courtyard came into view.

Your own bedraggled image was spread across the outer wall of the manor, the huge snail showing two screens that flashed through replays of your pathetic race and capture. It showed a few highlights of the hunters, including Shanks smashing through what looked like a wall of giant crackers, and Iceburg crawling on the ground in the wrong direction. Now they displayed various angles of the winner carrying his prize.

Shanks was surreal. No one cheered for the slab of meat he’d claimed, not when the Emperor of the Sea looked like some dark god of the forest, a hero bringing home a feast to his starving people.

The image had you closing your eyes, playing into the exhaustion so you wouldn’t have to look at him anymore. 

“Red Haired Shanks, everyone,” Uncle announced as he slowed the audience’s applause, and you opened your eyes to find him beside you, leading your captor to the head table. “The emperor has earned the first private date tomorrow evening, as well as the seat of honor tonight. I hope everyone worked up an appetite.”

I’m not here.

Both men had their hands on you while they propped you up between them, and you faced the courtyard to find the ravenous guests practically drooling over the sight of your torn and dirty dress. Thankfully your back was to the screen, so you didn’t have to keep watching yourself stumbling through the dark. 

The stragglers made their way back, and your mind kept spacing, floating while your torturers chatted, until dinner arrived. 

Servants carried a long stretch of table over the stone path, “ooh’s” and “aah’s” making you more nauseated the closer it got, until they laid out the mythical beast before you. 

Your uncle had caught a white stag. 

He had caught it, killed it, and was laughing while its dead eyes stared at you, its useless antlers like some tragic centerpiece. Uncle Cedrick ordered its flesh to be passed to every plate, so that each of his friends might share in his auspicious meal. 

“Here’s to those with the heart of a hunter,” he toasted. “May your arrows always hit their mark.”

Every bite they took tore through your own skin, the slow prey gone still while the pack of wolves enjoyed their meal. An animal again, your mind was incapable of reason or words, but even the soul of the deer could feel this truth pulsing deep within the bones that the monsters hadn’t yet picked clean.

You would not survive this. They were going to devour you whole.

~~~

“Y/N? Sis? Are you okay?”

Some part of you that only existed for your sister reacted to the worry in her voice, blinking up at her while she carefully pulled the antlers off of your head. Another image of the deer’s mutilated body flashed through your mind as you watched her hold them to her chest before turning away, hurrying toward the door. You stared, thoughts thankfully leaving your mind while she threw the cursed antlers down the corridor.

“Are you okay,” she checked in again when she returned her gentle fingers to your hair.

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat, voice coming out raw. “Where is everyone?”

“I’ll get you cleaned up,” Kat assured. Her sharp eyes were wider than normal, but your urge to comfort her couldn’t break through your exhaustion, your delirium. “I didn’t think you’d want all the servants around.”

Gratitude swelled with the lump in your throat while Kat’s soft fingers transformed you, bringing you back to humanity. 

“I’m sorry he’s still such an asshole to you,” your sister breathed, starting to clean the scrapes that littered your legs and feet. “Running through the forest like… You’re getting married, not hunted. He didn’t need to make it so… I’m sorry.”

“Married,” you gave a tired laugh, closing your eyes before you went down the spiral. A hiss left your lips, your body jolting when she dabbed at a particularly unpleasant scrape.

“I’m going to call Dr. Gilli,” Kat announced, stopping you from digging your nails into your thighs. “No one else, and I’ll stay with you, okay?”

“No pills. No shots,” you ordered, too frantic to care about holding it in. 

“Of course not,” she sighed when your breathing started to calm. “I just don’t want to be responsible for your legs falling off from infection. Is that alright with you, sis?”

“Fine.” The slight teasing Kat had managed to put in her tone made your lips twitch, but that hint of relief took all of your energy. Your sister stayed with you, holding your hand while the family doctor looked you over.

Dr. Gilli had always been sweet to you, but the sight of your blood on her gloves while she gushed about how beautiful you looked, and how lucky you were to have such a romantic engagement, made you want to kick that sweet face in. 

“Thank you, doctor,” Kat frowned, shooing the woman out just in time before you punched her in the throat for asking you about babies. 

Kat helped you into bed, crawling in beside you like you were kids again. 

You used to be the big sister. Four years had always felt like such a big gap, especially with everything you had tried to protect her from. 

Until you couldn’t even protect yourself, and Kat had to become the big sister. 

Gratitude and guilt over that fact could never balance out, and as much as you loved her and needed her right now, you ached for her to leave so you could break down. 

Instead, slow tears stained your pillowcase while her comforting presence held you in a quiet cage. 

“It’s only a month,” she whispered while she stroked your hair. “We’re going to find the best husband for you, and then you’ll take over the company. I know it’s scary, but I believe in you, Y/N, just like dad did… I know you’re ready, and I’ll be right here with you.”

Kat’s misplaced trust froze you for what felt like hours, but somehow you fell asleep. Your name echoed through a storm while you watched the wolves tear into her flesh, helpless to keep your sister from the starving beasts.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

For a split second upon waking on the morning of the banquet, Buggy’s first thought hadn’t been panic for her absence, but a hum of pleasure at the warmth surrounding him. 

Guilt sent him flying into pieces to escape Crocodile and Mihawk’s arms, and they blinked up at him as though they’d forgotten her too. Buggy only relaxed when he saw the reality of the day harden their faces. 

Another day full of hushed voices, and waiting. Scribbled notes, and stifled comfort. Fear, and an unsteady hope that Shanks would be the hero again. 

~~~

“What’s this,” Buggy growled at the wide eyed, young pirate that had set down a bright blue cocktail on Y/N’s desk. He’d found himself sitting there tonight, updating the other men while the suitors were introduced, and he closed his eyes to stay focused on the muffled voices. 

The clown had started to panic earlier when his star was told to leave her locket behind, almost losing her because his gift didn’t fit the “theme.” She must have stuffed it into her dress from the way her heart thumped even louder within him, and he coughed to fight the heat in his throat.

I’m here, baby. I’ve got you.

“You like sweet drinks, don’t you?”

Buggy jolted, pretending that surprised squeak hadn’t just left his throat before he met Crocodile’s eyes across the room. 

“Y-yeah,” Buggy frowned, but he avoided the collection of garnishes and tiny umbrellas to take a sip from the curly straw. He found the taste of pineapple, coconuts, and sooo much sugar, covering up the rum that he most definitely needed. “Thanks.”

The scarred man raised a brow, and Mihawk’s soft chuckle from his own desk added to the shiver going up Buggy's spine.

They’re trying to distract me… 

“Thanks, daddy,” Buggy corrected, almost smiling at that frightening, but pleased face until her voice filled with hope.

‘Mr. Iceburg?’

“Mr. Iceburg,” he repeated while her heart went wild. 

“Iceburg,” Crocodile asked quietly, looking at his own notes. “From Galley La? He wasn’t on the list…”

“She knows him already,” Buggy reported. He tried to let it mean nothing. “She likes him.”

“Of course, Sylvad’s has had ties with Water 7 for generations,” Crocodile nodded, rubbing his hand over his face. 

“She may like him, but she loves you,” Mihawk startled him as he appeared beside her desk. “Don’t forget.”

“I’d never forget that,” Buggy snapped, sighing when wicked fingers teased over his tense shoulders, helping him focus.

He focused on her breath, her heart, while she met all the men vying to touch her, to take her. He focused on trying not to freak out the longer the night went on without hearing that familiar, heroic voice. Their best chance.

“Something’s wrong,” Buggy rasped, hardly hearing Crocodile's chair thump onto the new carpet over the deafening silence of his star forgetting to breathe. It seemed like her heart had stopped beating, until her uncle’s grating voice came through, and then it pounded like a bird smashing itself against a window to try to escape.

“The clothes suit you well, Emperor.”

“I had no idea that fashionable friends could be so generous,” Shanks charmed, his voice a miracle. “Or that I’d have the pleasure of meeting such a gorgeous, little bunny again so soon. Sorry, you're a gorgeous, little doe, aren’t you?”

“It’s Shanks,” Buggy shared, almost jealous of the relief that washed over their faces before he closed his eyes to the world again.

Shanks played the roguish pirate to perfection, and Buggy had no notes for his performance. Even muffled, Sylvad’s voice was clearly satisfied, eating up the Emperor’s words. 

“Red Hair made it? He’s a suitor?”

The soft questions ripped Buggy’s eyes open, and the relief he still saw there made him sick. 

“She hates him.”

“What do you–”

“Who does she–”

“She HATES SHANKS!” 

Buggy didn’t notice when he’d flown into pieces, but he floated erratically before them, trying to understand, trying to explain. 

“How… She didn’t say that out loud, did she,” Mihawk asked after a pause, studying his movements. 

“Why would she hate him,” Crocodile mused. His silver eyes stripped him down as he stepped too close.

“How the fuck would I know,” Buggy yelled, horror filling his veins at the way her heart seemed to fight itself in its cage. “This is how she sounds when she’s with Uncle ShitFuck, or that fucking doctor! She hates Shanks. She HATES HIM! What are we gonna do?”

“Shh, shh, darling,” Mihawk breathed, catching Buggy’s face in both hands while his body still flew through the air. “Y/N thought he was going to steal you from her. If she hasn’t forgiven him, then we’ll just have to find another way.”

“But she–”

Every floating piece of him stuttered in the air when cruel lips kissed his so sweetly. 

“I am long overdue for a hunting trip,” the swordsman teased over his skin, twisting those wicked fingers into his hair. “Having all three of us here is a waste. I’ll go thin out the competition.”

“No.”

The refusal was deep, yet gentle, and that scarred face towered over them both while Crocodile tugged at Mihawk’s chin. 

“We’re not doing that. We can’t go against her wishes, not until we know why she’s doing this.”

Buggy felt pain searing behind his eyes while he tried to listen to two things at once: Cedrick Sylvad’s speech, and the moral dilemma of these ex-Warlords.

“I agree,” Mihawk said evenly, barely sparing a glance while Buggy brought his body back together beside him. “But these men want our little rabbit, and her illustrious name for their own reasons. If it’s possible to convince the worst of them to drop out, then we should try.”

“Are you running away again,” Crocodile sighed, the pressure in the air making Buggy want to sink to the floor.  

“Don’t worry, daddy,” Mihawk purred, expertly slicing through all the tension in the room. “I have a spare earpiece snail, so you can scold me all you like while I’m away.” 

‘Did you hear me,’ Cedrick seemed to hiss at Buggy, swimming in guilt for falling into the distraction of the men before him. 

“Chase?”

“What is it,” Mihawk checked in, scanning his face. 

“No,” the clown paused, more endless horror pouring into him. He had to step away, the sounds of her panic while she raced through the woods sending him into helpless rage. The other men let him feel into it, until he rounded on them again. 

“They’re hunting her like an animal,” Buggy seethed, flinching at the sound of his star falling, panting, pushing herself on. “She’s terrified, she’s– Fuck this!”

A wave of sand hit the door before Crocodile blocked his path, only fueling that need to protect her. 

“Marines on call. Germa Kingdom. Big Mom Pirates. Fishman royalty. And we still don’t know what kind of security forces Sylvad keeps on the island, not to mention whatever the Concealer keeps around him, or the President of Galley La,” the larger man listed, his voice firm, but going soft when he touched Buggy’s cheek. “The second you hear our sweet girl ask for help, or say that she doesn’t wanna be there, I will drain them all to dust… but we still don’t know what he has on her. She told us she wanted to go.”

‘This isn’t a dream…’

In a trance, the clown let the other men lead him to that flashy, green couch, his notepad and fruity drink set up on the new coffee table while he slumped into her spot between them. 

“Shanks got her,” he reported, unable to share in their relief with the sound of her strangled breaths so loud in his head. He could barely hear a thing in her world now, the muffled voices beyond theirs were too difficult to make out, especially when another heartbeat filled his mind. His old friend must have been carrying her, and the sound of both of their hearts pounding so close made his gloves damp when he rubbed at his tired eyes. 

“Don’t worry,” Mihawk tugged at him gently until Buggy curled in against his exposed chest. The swordsman didn’t recoil from the faded paint, or the hot tears that streaked down his skin the longer the clown let himself stay there. “If our little rabbit doesn’t trust our hero, then we’ll just convince the rest of the suitors to give up the hunt.”

“Try not to start any wars, little prince,” Crocodile hummed, setting his massive hand over Mihawk’s where it was resting on Buggy’s thigh. 

“War is tedious. I am looking forward to a peaceful life,” Mihawk vowed, stroking Buggy’s hair while the man let exhaustion relax him deeper into his lap. “We just need to retrieve our lovers first.”

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“Oh sweetie, you look so–”

“Take a bite.”

Mom’s too shiny smile hardened slightly before she tasted your oatmeal, avoiding the servants that hovered around you in clouds of makeup and hair spray. 

“You’re about to have brunch with your suitors,” she reminded you when you snatched the food from her, practically inhaling it before more pencils or brushes could touch your lips. “Don’t you think it will look strange if you don’t eat with them?”

“You don’t seem to care how strange it looks to sell off your own daughter,” you laughed, noticing a servant’s eyes widen just a fraction when they took your empty bowl. “I’m cooperating, but I will not be leaving my food or drinks unattended until I feel safer. You want your child to feel safe, don’t you, mother?”

“I found some,” Kat beamed when she barged through the door, waving a deck of playing cards above her head. She tossed it to you, and you gasped, surprised that you caught it from the air before it could hit one of the staff. Thankfully, the full skirted dress you’d been stuffed into this morning had pockets, so you tucked your little game away, forcing your mom to taste the rest of your breakfast before the brunch dates began.

But Kat was making that face. Little sister face. 

“What’s that,” you gestured toward the item she had tried to conceal when she sat across from you, tucking it behind her body.

“Just some trash I found in the hall. Do you want some more coffee?”

“Give it,” you ordered, giving her big sister face.

“It’s nothing we didn’t already know, okay? So just…”

“At least I’m not the only one being used,” a sharp laugh left your throat. “How much berry do you think he’s making off of this game?”

Mom ordered the staff to leave before leaning toward Kat, and didn’t whisper quietly enough on her way out.

“Brunch is about to start. Make sure she looks presentable.”

“Can’t sell me off if I'm not pretty, can you?”

“Y/N,” she started, looking convincingly hurt, but Kat got her out of the room before either of you could make it worse. 

You stared at the “trash” in your lap, the crisp scent of expensive ink and paper filling your lungs while you examined the brochure. 

‘Which Hunter Will Claim Her?’

That tantalizing question was scrawled across every page, while the nine suitors each had their own section, their profile, their face, and a stupid little quote about winning you. This barbaric game was disguised behind a snooty font spread over images of dappled sunlight through Sylvad trees, and decorated with arrows and leaves.

Cedar leaves.

You wanted to tear it to shreds, but you were pulled in, studying every detail.

~~~~~~

~~~~~~

Giberson

Age: Couldn’t Recall

Height: Misplaced Measurements

Birthday: August 14th

Title: “Warehouseman”

Favorite Food: Rye Whiskey

How he plans to win: “I’m sure the lovely lady and I will have a delightful time. You don’t get to be my age without learning a few tricks.”

~

Ichiji

Age: 21

Height: 186 cm (6'1")

Birthday: March 2

Title: Prince of the Germa Kingdom

Favorite Food: Strawberries and Whiskey

How he plans to win: "I’m a Vinsmoke."

~

Niji

Age: 21

Height: 185 cm (6'1")

Birthday: March 2nd

Title: Prince of the Germa Kingdom

Favorite Food: Blueberries and Scotch

How he plans to win: “She’s coming with us. If I don’t win, there’s two more Vinsmoke’s.”

~

Yonji

Age: 21

Height: 194 cm (6'4")

Birthday: March 2

Title: Prince of the Germa Kingdom

Favorite Food: Green Peas

How he plans to win: “I wouldn’t mind ending up with a woman like her, so I’m gonna turn her into a princess.”

~

Iceburg

Age: 40

Height: 199 cm (6'6")

Birthday: January 3

Title: President of the Galley-La Company, and Mayor of Water 7

Favorite Food: Curry Made by an Old Friend. A Drunk, Old Friend.

How he plans to win: “Mm, well... I suppose I’ll win because I know her best.”

~

Fukaboshi

Age: 24

Height: 604 cm (19’10”)

Birthday: February 4th

Title: Prince of the Ryugu Kingdom

Favorite Food: Abalone Steak

How he plans to win: “I hope that she carries peace in her heart. If she does, I will stop at nothing to earn her love.”

~

Cracker

Age: 45

Height: 307 cm (10'1")

Birthday: February 28th

Title: Sweet Commander of the Big Mom Pirates, and the Minister of Biscuit

Favorite Food: Biscuits. Dislikes Kimchi and Carbonated Drinks.

How he plans to win: “Easy. I’ll outdo them all.”

~

Katakuri

Age: 48

Height: 509 cm (16'8½")

Birthday: November 25th

Title: Sweet Commander of the Big Mom Pirates, and the Minister of Flour

Favorite Food: Doughnuts. Dislikes hot ramen.

How he plans to win: “I will win because I must.”

~

Shanks

Age: 39

Height: 199 cm (6'6")

Birthday: March 9

Title: Emperor of the Sea

Favorite Food: Kimchi Fried Rice and Lobster. Dislikes Blueberries.

How he plans to win: “Just gonna show the cutie a good time.”

~~~~~~

‘Make Your Bets Now!’

Kat was right. You knew that the audience was enjoying the game, gambling while you just tried to survive, trying to secure the least abhorrent future that you could. 

“Venison…”

“Heeyyy,” Kat fumbled through positivity as she pulled the brochure from your white-knuckled grip. “At least we know how tall they are now!”

“I love you,” you thanked her, amazed that you could still laugh.

~~~

“Such pretty, little fingers… I hope I pass your test.”

“It’s not a test,” you lied, shuffling cards instead of tearing the old man’s eyes out. “Just a game.”

“It has to be the Queen of Hearts,” Giberson winked over his Bloody Mary.

“It’s the Four of Diamonds.”

“So you are choosing the next winner,” he scolded lightly when your prediction was revealed.

“How could I possibly choose when I have so many charming options,” you reminded him as you pushed the deck across the table so he could shuffle for himself. You weren’t ready to pick and choose between these hunters. There’d been no time to feel them out. 

So they had to guess.

The lighthearted brunch felt anything but with so many eyes on your skin, especially with Uncle’s giant projector snail that blew up your image across the building again. All the smaller snails circled around you, their slow, unreal eyes reminding you how trapped you were.

Always trapped.

“That’s alright, dear. Making decisions is tough, isn’t it? I’ve been hearing about what a smart girl you are though! So, what’s the card?”

The old man’s condescension was so typical, you were contemplating rooting for him, just so you could end up with a predictable partner.

“Jack of Hearts,” you smiled after counting down twenty two cards out loud, yet again.

“Whew, that sure is something,” Giberson waved the Jack of Hearts he’d revealed, making sure the rest of the guests could see while he bragged about you, as though your skills were somehow reflective of his own talents. 

As though he already owned you.

“You shuffled,” you teased, guiding him to set up the trick one more time. “Can you guess the card?”

“Queen of Hearts,” he winked again.

Gross. At least he might die soon, that’s a plus.

~~~

“You look beautiful this morning, Y/N,” the firstborn Vinsmoke brother purred when he took Giberson’s seat. 

Every moment was on full display for the other suitors, and for the guests that had stayed on the island for the entertainment. It seemed that the courtyard was to be your new realm, with plenty of space for your much taller dates to join you at your little breakfast table that was set up on a slightly elevated platform. 

A stage. 

“Thank you, Prince Ichigi. You’re looking quite well yourself.”  

Fuck.

It wasn’t a lie, and your pulse sped at the smug smile he gave when he tilted his head down to examine you over his dark, red glasses. 

There was something dangerous in that smile, and the fact that he didn’t even try to hide it made you pause, not sure how best to deal with this entitled prince.

“What does our lovely bride enjoy when she’s not being chased,” Ichiji purred, already claiming you with his words. His sunglasses did little to hide his eyes as they raked over your skin. 

“I enjoy numbers. Mathematics,” you almost squeaked. Heat rose up to your cheeks while you started to shuffle the cards, noticing the number “1” embroidered on his maroon cloak while you explained the goal of the card trick. 

“Seven of Clubs.”

“I’m sorry, Prince Ichiji, you’re wrong again.”

You had to risk a small sip from your untested water glass to fight the dryness on your tongue.

“That’s alright,” Ichiji teased, nodding at the sound of bells marking his time. “That’s why my family always brings numbers.”

“My turn, brother,” the blue haired prince announced as he clapped him on the shoulder. 

“Be nice to our little princess, Niji,” he ordered, pressing your knuckles to his lips before heading back toward the rest of his family. 

“Of course,” your new date smirked, leaning back in his chair with his hands clasped behind that blue head of hair. 

The large spikes and swoops of his hairstyle covered one of his eyes under his gold sunglasses, hiding one of the eyebrows that you kept trying not to glance at. The three brothers shared an odd curl to the ends of their brows, You couldn’t tell if it was a cosmetic choice, but didn’t want to risk insulting such powerful men in case they were sensitive about it.

“Don’t tell me my brother already wore you out,” he clicked his tongue, snapping you out of your memories. 

“I’m so sorry, Prince Niji, I must still be tired from the banquet. What were you saying?”

“Fetch our little bride some coffee,” he snapped at the nearest servant, banging lightly on the table until the dishes rattled.

His harsh tone was almost enough to make you forget your precautions, but you had enough to worry about without the uncertainty of who prepared your drink.

That curly brow raised with satisfied surprise when you rested your hand over his, his lips parting while he ate up your act.

“Would you mind sharing your coffee, Prince Niji? I’d hate to waste any more of our time waiting to wake up.”

“What’s mine is yours, princess,” Niji purred. He caught your hand as you pulled away, and you let him hold it while you drank from his mug. His coffee was unbelievably sweet.

Stop. Don’t think about…

“Thank you,” you hummed, swallowing the heat in your throat while you tried to not to look at his blue hair with that practically syrupy coffee still on your tongue. “Will you help me with a little trick?”

~~~

“It’s up to you, little brother,” Niji reported when his time ran out. 

“Don’t worry, I’ve been watching these pretty hands,” Yonji assured him, kissing your fingers before he sat down. His dark eyes seemed fierce without colored glasses to hide them, and his green hair was slicked back instead of swooping up and out like his older brothers. He wasn’t hiding his interesting features.

“So you think you know the trick,” you challenged, giving him a chance. 

“I think I’ll win your heart,” he swooned, and the sappy look on his face made your hands fumble while you shuffled the deck. 

He focused intently now as you laid them out, and revealed certain cards, counting down to the guess. 

“What card is—“

“Three of Spades,” he blurted out. “What’s your guess?”

“Three of Clubs.”

“Again.”

The youngest prince refused your small talk, avoiding your gaze until his final guess.

“King of Hearts,” Yonji beamed, puppy dog eyes finally on your face again. “What’s your guess, princess?”

Would it be weird to marry Kat’s favorite?

You didn’t glance at your sister, but knew she’d be watching while the green haired prince scored the first point, hearts practically floating around his head when you revealed the card. 

“I told you, princess,” Yonji vowed as he stole a quick peck to your cheek. “I’ll be the one to win your heart.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

~~~⚫~~~

The man that had won your heart beamed when he saw you gazing up at him. His blue hair seemed to glow in the sun, but nothing could gleam like those strong arms, slick with sweat while he climbed down the ropes to meet you on the deck of the ship.

“Oh my, look at you,” Iceburg hummed, tying a bandana over his hair to catch that salty water before it dripped down his face. You stared at those gorgeous, purple tattoos that crawled down his shoulders and arms before he patted the top of your head. “Where’s your dad hiding?”

“He had to take a call, but I helped him write this proposal, so he said I could bring it to you,” you blushed, handing him the file.

“He’s got you working at thirteen,” he whistled, taking the document while he shook his head. 

“I’m fourteen now,” you declared. 

You couldn’t keep yourself from rolling onto your toes a bit, lifting your chin in hopeful challenge. 

“You’re gonna be running things soon, huh,” he smirked.

Mind going absolutely blank under his attention, you just gaped at him like a fucking creep.

“This ship’s almost finished.” Iceburg leaned close, knocking on the railing behind you. “Would you like a tour? It is your family’s wood that makes it so strong, after all.”

“I– Are you sure? I’ll be fine waiting if you need to get back to work. You don’t need to watch me.”

The desire to follow him around like a puppy was overpowered by the distaste at him feeling the need to babysit you, but the look on his face made you laugh, forgetting it all.

“I don’t wanna go back to work,” the handsome shipwright complained, scrunching up his face in a pout that rivaled your sister’s. “I’d rather show you around, and grab some lunch when your dad gets here. Can we?”

“Okay!”

~~~

This gorgeous, lovely man knew more about Sylvad wood than most of dad’s executives. Listening to him talk about it always made you happy, knowing that your family was part of something so important, so loved. 

Iceburg led you through the ship, telling you how he had worked each piece of lumber, how it all moved with the wind and the waves, even guiding you to slide your hand along the trees your family had grown, smooth and silky to the touch after he’d treated them. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it,” he praised softly, watching your hand against the wood before pulling a pen from his toolbelt. “Well, let’s go get some food, girlie. You can tell your dad what a great job you did presenting your proposal.”

“But you didn’t even read it,” you blurted out, shocked when he pressed the document against a wall to sign his name.

“You and Arbo are good people, plus you’ve got the best lumber in the world,” he laughed while he led you up the stairs toward the sound of footsteps. “I trust you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Iceburg… but you just agreed to build a small fleet to expand our shipping operations in the East Blue. Are you sure you’ll have time for that while you help Tom finish the sea train? Hi, daddy!”

“There’s my girl,” your dad grinned, kissing your temple when you joined him on the deck. “Make any deals without me?”

Iceburg handed the document over, waving his own copy in your direction. Your skin flushed with heat again when he snuck you a wink while your dad glanced at his signature. 

“She’s very convincing. You’ll be able to retire in no time if she keeps this up.”

He was the perfect man. Strong, kind, silly, sweet, and so painfully hot, it drove you mad. You’d had a few crushes on your classmates over the last couple of years, but nothing compared to the way you felt when Iceburg looked at you like that. 

“I don’t doubt it,” your dad praised. He wrapped his arm around the shipwright’s shoulders, nodding his head toward the docks. “Is Kokoro still making that delightful curry?”

“I’ll never let her stop,” Iceburg laughed while he led the way. “Tom should be over there too, let’s go grab some lunch and catch up.”

“Sounds perfect. Do you want to come, sweetheart?”

~~~⚫~~~

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

He’s not who I thought he was. He’s a creep. Another leech trying to latch on and drain as much berry from me as he can. Don’t forget. 

You were pathetic, getting flustered while he watched your hands, his calm voice taking away all your caution. 

“I have to apologize,” Iceburg hummed while you shuffled.

“Why is that?”

“Mm, well,” he looked down at his striped jacket while he patted his pocket. “I left Tyrannosaurus with my secretary. I didn’t think bringing a pet would be… I should be more focused on you.”

“What do you— oh!”

The cards scattered across the table when you jumped, laughter sneaking out of you. 

“This is Velociraptor,” Iceburg announced as a field mouse crawled out of his breast pocket. “I found him during the chase, I hope it’s alright to have pets during our stay. Are you okay, Y/N?”

“I’m fine, sorry,” you recovered from losing yourself in that laughter before gathering the cards again. Your eyes were still watering when you watched the cute creature dive back into his pocket after a few soft pets from his strong fingers. “Can you guess the card?”

“Oh my,” his brows furrowed, watching your waiting hands. “I really need to pay attention, don’t I? I’d love to spend some more time with you.”

He leaned forward, his height making him tower over you at the little table, and you found yourself blinking up at him.

Forgetting.

“I…”

“Is it the Seven of Clubs?”

���No, Mr… No, Iceburg.”

~~~

Prince Fukaboshi was led through the courtyard by a few attendants, both fishmen and mermen featured amongst the group. He looked down at you, mouth opening to speak before Uncle’s voice carried over.

“Why don’t we give our hunter a closer look?”

Grabbing onto the edge of the table took all of your focus, and you knew that your fake smile fell when you started moving through the air. The ground flew away, the wooden platform beneath you rising up toward the prince, gentle surprise on his face.

The snails on the table didn’t seem phased by the change in elevation, and it was hard to pretend they didn’t exist while they slowly shifted positions to better capture you and your date for the audience below. 

You decided not to look down to determine what kind of contraption had lifted you so high, instead looking at the prince before you. Fukaboshi took up your entire field of vision, and it was easy to see the concern on his expansive face.

“Are you alright, Miss Sylvad?”

His teeth look so sharp…

“Please, Prince Fukaboshi,” you trembled, focusing on the cards as much as you could, “call me Y/N. Can you guess the— oh, I’m sorry, are you familiar with these sorts of playing cards?”

You were barely hanging on. He spoke, he guessed, and you could feel the rumble of his voice even though your mind wasn’t quite letting it in. Your body performed without you, your lips reciting words that carried no meaning. 

“This courtship custom is unlike any I have seen before,” the prince frowned while you set up the cards for the last guess. “Since it is all strange to me, I couldn’t be certain, but…”

The pause was long enough for you to meet his eyes, so large, and filled with what looked like compassion. 

No. 

“Miss Y/N, I am seeking your hand so that my people can gain protection and resources so that they never suffer the cruelty and humiliation of slavery again,” Fukaboshi declared. The snails on the table lowered their eyes, but his voice boomed too loud to hide. 

Bells. 

“That is—“

“I never want to see anyone treated the way my sister was by those monsters at the Reverie.”

“Monsters?”

The dangerous question barely made it past your lips before the platform jolted, slowly bringing you down, away from his determined face while the bells kept ringing. 

“Are you being held against your will? I cannot abide another moment of this if you are being used like a pet for their amusement.”

“N-no,” you panicked, craning your neck to see him while you shook your head, hands pleading, voice dripping with lies. “You are so kind, thank you, Prince Fukaboshi! I’m sorry, I must seem scared, but I’m just nervous. This is all a bit overwhelming, but I promise I am glad to be here!”

“Your turn’s over, Prince. You heard the girl.”

Cracker’s manic smile appeared as the table sank to the ground. It felt like your frantic heart had been left in the sky, floating up there with those huge, concerned eyes. 

“Thank you, Prince Fukaboshi,” you beamed, feeling forever selfish at the temptation. 

I can’t risk a stranger, a whole kingdom. I’m not worth it. 

Neither of us would make it out alive anyway. 

“It has been my honor,” he said evenly, though his eyes were scanning the crowd now, a new tension held within his enormous, warrior’s body. 

The snails woke up, those slow moving eyes reminding you that the show must go on.

“You’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry?” 

Cracker sat down, and the platform probably should have lifted a bit as the shirtless man was closer to your reality, but he was still even taller than… 

You had to stop comparing these men to your daydreams. 

“Eight of Diamonds… Damn,” he brushed off his loss before looming over you. His dark, brown glove was softer than you expected it to be when he cupped your cheek, almost the whole side of your face. 

“You understand family duties, don’t you?”

All you could do was nod under the wild look he gave you.

He’s fucking unstable.

“That’s good. Family is everything.”

Is he flirting? 

A dangerous giggle almost escaped, but you kept it in, smiling sweetly while he failed every guess.

The bells finally rang out, but they couldn’t save you from his last words, his promise.

“Our family needs you, Y/N. I don’t care if you’re my wife or my sister, I’ll protect you with my life.”

~~~

This time you were grateful for the moving platform, a reason to look away from Cracker’s confident face. The true reason for the movement came into view, his brother waiting patiently for you to settle just below his eye level. 

Those eyes… 

Charlotte Katakuri was too fucking tall. Too fucking scary. Crimson eyes assessed you, his arched brows and sharp nose not nearly harsh enough to distract from those thick, dark lashes of his.

He’s too fucking pretty.

Now that you were this close, you could see scars on both of his cheeks. They led down toward his mouth, still concealed by that massive scarf. Prince Fukaboshi’s sharp teeth came to mind when you wondered what he could be hiding, so you shuffled and shuffled, trying to think about anything else.

“It’s good to see you, Y/N,” his polite voice made you shiver, seeming to vibrate the elevated stage you were perched on. 

“Same to you, Katakuri,” your voice shook. You couldn’t afford to show this much fear. Predators always looked for weak prey. “Would you mind helping me with a little trick?”

“If that’s what you wish,” he agreed. There was no way to tell if the hint of a smile you heard in his voice was truly hidden beneath his scarf, but it set you on edge, nonetheless. 

“Can you guess the card?”

“It’s the Ten of Hearts.”

He stated it as if it were true, as if he were simply remarking on the weather around him.

And it was true. You’d known it before you revealed it, this simple math trick like the comforting rhythm of a familiar heartbeat. 

“You’re right,” you breathed when you turned it over. “Care to go again?”

Katakuri nodded slowly, but his eyes never left your face, ignoring the cards on the table until you asked for his next guess.

“The Queen of Hearts.”

“Yes. Have you seen this trick before?”

“In a way,” came his cryptic response. “Shall we go again?”

He definitely wasn’t paying attention to the cards. Those stunning eyes were so fucking intense as they bore into your skin that you almost forgot to do the math before you asked for his next guess.

Then you wished you had forgotten.

“What’s the–”

“Shuffle again.”

“But you haven’t–”

You stopped breathing when one of his giant hands shot toward you, his fingers sooo fucking big when he laid them over yours. 

Delicate. This giant was gentle when he covered your hands, covered the cards, practically covered half the little table.

“This card makes you sad,” he whispered, though there was no point with all the surveillance, and with his booming voice at the center of attention. But still, he whispered. “Why don’t you shuffle again?”

Fuck. fuckfuckfuck. Stop. 

There you go. Just smile. 

A small miracle let you slip out of your body, out of your mind, while you shuffled the unrevealed Six of Spades back into the deck. 

Katakuri was still quiet, still watching. So polite while he guessed the right card, letting you pull yourself back together.

Hiding all the struggle behind your Sylvad smile.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he touched your hand again when the platform started to lower. “I’m looking forward to our next meeting.”

You hadn’t noticed the bells.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🤡🗡️~~~

“When are you leaving?”

“There’s no point in waiting,” Mihawk avoided the larger man’s eyes. “The sooner I convince the competition to back out, the sooner Y/N will be free of them.”

“Yeah, but how,” Buggy sighed from his lap, the swordsman’s skilled fingers nearly dragging him down to sleep already. “How the fuck are you gonna convince these assholes that they don’t wanna marry her? She’s perfect! Plus, they get in on that stupid company, and get whatever other bullshit DickHole is selling. What can you do besides poke ‘em with your fancy stick?”

“That’s what I plan to find out,” Mihawk smiled, though the finality in his tone was enough.

“Come on, Buggy,” Crocodile nudged his legs aside, offering the clown his hand while he stared at their determined lover. “Let’s remind our little bird why he should fly back home when he’s done pecking people’s eyes out.”

Buggy let out an exhausted giggle while Mihawk shivered, his eyes rolling back just a bit. Just enough.

“You thought you could run away that easily, huh,” Crocodile threatened with his words, and with the tip of his hook below that sculpted chin.

More guilt almost tore the clown away while he watched them, but Buggy chugged his sugary drink, grateful for the quiet of faraway sleep. He started to pull the swordsman up by the collar of his frighteningly fancy jacket, and that arched brow was an instinctual warning.

The clown heeded the warning, loosening his grip on the jacket, only to yank the man off the couch by his hair. Crocodile joined in on his smug laughter, roughly pulling Mihawk against him before he’d stopped moaning from the unexpected pain.

“You’re not leaving tonight.”

Heavy. 

Whatever they held between them felt heavier than either had expected.

“I’ll go get the bed ready,” Buggy sighed as he half floated toward the door, “but I’ll need another drink if you guys take too long.”

~~~🗡️🤡🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🗡️🐊🗡️🐊~~~

“Are you alright?”

Mihawk laughed at the question, and Crocodile wanted to shake him. He was sick of seeing his lovers fall apart right in front of him, with nothing he could do, or even understand.

He ached to understand this man. They had faced each other in battle just a few years ago, but that Summit War felt like a fever dream now.

Not that this new life didn't feel like a dream.

This man…

Crocodile kept getting him. Meeting him in ways that both surprised, and soothed him. 

Mihawk laughed again at the thought of new vocabulary, but Crocodile pulled him close.

“I’m not ready to lose my business partner,” Crocodile confessed, the words too heavy for the smirk he tried to give. 

The words were enough.

Mihawk laid his deadly fingers along that silk vest, silently asking for a kiss while he stared up at the taller man. 

The swordsman felt like a fraud. 

How could someone like him that had carried nothing for so long be filled with so much? He didn’t want to lie anymore than he already had. 

Crocodile gave him what he wanted. A heavy kiss.

“Let’s not keep our clown waiting,” Crocodile rasped, tracing his thumb along Mihawk’s sharp features. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

~~~🗡️🐊🗡️🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🗡️🤡🐊~~~

They’re holding hands… 

Crocodile and Mihawk had called through the door, all of their hands occupied until Mihawk handed the slack-jawed clown another cocktail. 

“Nice room service,” Buggy tried to recover. 

“Come here, little clown.”

The scarred man let go of one lover to reach for another. Cupping his hand along Buggy’s jaw, with those large fingers combing into the hair at the back of his neck, Crocodile breathed down on him until he was nodding, red lips still parted.

“I haven’t been giving you enough attention,” Crocodile purred, squeezing his face lightly when Buggy tried to argue. “But it looks like we’re gonna have plenty of alone time soon. Plenty of time for me to spoil you.”

“Y-yup! Lots of…”

“Is that what you want?”

“Sure, whatever you say, bos— Yes, daddy.”

“Good boy.”

Buggy disconnected at the ankles to float up into Crocodile’s deep kiss. He nearly spilled his drink before the larger man lowered him down again, eyes dark and satisfied while he watched his clown. 

“You deserve more attention, but you handled him so well. Help me remind—“

“Let’s fuck him up, daddy!”

Buggy downed his drink with one hand while the other snuck past Crocodile’s body to wrap around Mihawk’s throat. 

“You do know that I’m still Dracule Mihawk, don’t you?”

Wicked fingers dug into the floating hand, dragging it down his own chest while he resisted. 

“Whatcha gonna do, Hawkeyes? Stab me? Slice me,” Buggy laughed, setting down his glass before sending his other hand. 

Crocodile started to undress, chuckling softly at his boys. 

The air shifted as danger, delicious danger, poured from the swordsman while he leaned into Buggy’s touch, forcing his floating hands closer to his own body with every taunting step.

“I’m going to play.”

Mihawk’s golden eyes seemed to flicker with his threat, and Buggy felt a flash of fear, a glimpse of a beast. In that moment, he almost gave in, almost let the beast win.

Wherever his burst of confidence came from, Buggy went with it.

“Why don’t you play with daddy’s balls then, huh, crybaby?”

One of the clown’s hands broke free from that hold, and Mihawk couldn’t fight the moan that tore through him when gloved fingers ripped into his hair again, forcing him to look at Crocodile. The larger man was so very large, stroking himself while he sat on the edge of the bed. 

Gods, that fucking cock.

Buggy took advantage of Mihawk’s wonderment by kicking the backs of his knees until he hit the floor, and wrapped himself around the swordsman’s back to leave lipstick-stained bites along his neck. 

“Don’t lie. You wanna get fucking wrecked, don’t you?”

“I don’t like liars,” Crocodile teased, circling his thumb over his tip, taking in a quick breath of satisfaction at the desperate look on Mihawk’s face at the sight. “Do you want us to wreck you, little prince?”

Mihawk melted as that lovely hook pressed into his throat. Buggy rubbed himself against his back, and the swordsman laughed, feeling entirely fucking spoiled. 

“Please, daddy.”

What a fucking sight… 

The scarred man still couldn’t understand how these lovely men were somehow his, not after everything he’d done, everything he’d felt before. Watching Mihawk beg so sweetly while Buggy stripped him made Crocodile’s cock so hard it almost hurt, his rough fingers easing up against that sensitive flesh, until wicked fingers, wicked lips, replaced his own grip. 

“Fuck. Such an evil little mouth you’ve got– Shit…”

Buggy realized his own mouth was hanging open as he undressed, but he couldn’t care to close it while he watched Mihawk swallow more than looked humanly possible.

“Help me out, Buggy,” Crocodile groaned while he gripped Mihawk’s hair, his hand bobbing up and down with that pretty face. “Stretch out our filthy prince for me. No way he’s leaving here before I ruin that perfect, little ass.”

Sloppy, muffled whines escaped him, and Mihawk’s eyes rolled at the daunting threat. Buggy was there, lubed, and ungloved fingers fucking into him until he shook with need, with pleasure. 

“Get over here,” Crocodile growled, stepping back to yank Mihawk toward the bed by the hook around his neck. Buggy helped him along, floating hands lifting that moaning form into place. 

Mihawk’s place was on his hands and knees in the center of the bed, and he lost himself there in the tender and vicious touches his lovers showered him with. In their praise and teasing, pleasure and pain. In the taste of Buggy’s skin as he shoved his cock down his throat. 

He absolutely fucking lost himself when Crocodile lined himself up. He was the world’s greatest swordsman, and he enjoyed pain a great deal. Yet his former enemy was about to pierce him so thoroughly that Mihawk whimpered around Buggy's length, almost afraid. 

Then he felt nothing but that heavy cock, stretching, and claiming, and filling him until tears streamed from his golden eyes.

“So good, so fucking good for me,” Crocodile grunted. He dragged his hook down Mihawk’s side, still not believing what he was seeing. 

Dracule fucking Mihawk, moaning around a clown’s cock while his pretty, little hole sucked him in again and again. 

“Let’s give our twisted prince what he wants, eh, Buggy? Make sure he remembers where he belongs.”

Buggy stuttered in agreement, nearly gone before he obeyed. He tore at Mihawk’s hair while his other hand scraped brutally down his back. The twitching that his rough hands caused forced his cock even deeper until he spilled his pleasure down that desperate throat.

Crocodile sliced his hook around the swordsman’s body, pouring red from that perfect chest while he stuffed his little prince full. The overwhelming sensations had Mihawk coming harder than he’d thought possible, and the sounds he made were unreal. Pathetic. 

Music to the ears of his sated lovers. 

The clown didn’t need to be ordered or asked, Buggy just helped Mihawk stay steady while they pulled out of him. So many praises showered them both while the swordsman just breathed, assessing his every, vicious ache. 

Crocodile hated to leave for even a moment, but he didn’t need to worry. Buggy’s hands had already flown to the bathroom to wash themselves, spilling a bit of soap on the counter before grabbing what he needed. When Crocodile returned from the shower, Buggy was still wiping the other man clean, humming while he trailed gently over that perfect skin. 

Mihawk’s skin was littered with scars of battle and lust, of trust, and he had just enough energy for a weak smile as Buggy’s fingers danced over them all. He moaned, twitching in those gentle arms while his lovers washed him in the shower, no way to recover this soon. 

“Don’t whine, crybaby,” Buggy mumbled, too focused on cleaning and bandaging his wounds while Mihawk melted into the burn. “We’ll slice you up some more when you get back.”

“He’s right,” Crocodile hummed. Seeing these lovely boys taking care of each other gripped something deep within his chest. Whatever it was sparked fear in him, so much so that he had to pause while they laid Mihawk on the fresh sheets between them. 

I can’t lose them. Can’t lose any of them. 

“We’ll be waiting, little bird,” he pressed a kiss to Mihawk’s temple. Contented, sleepy sounds filled the air, and he tried to trust that this lovely new world wasn’t about to end. “Fly back home, alright?”

He couldn’t shape words, but Mihawk hummed his promise before he drifted away.

Home…

~~~🗡️🤡🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“Morning, Y/N— well, afternoon by now, isn’t it?”

You shuffled just to have something to focus on while you simpered for him. 

The traitor. 

“Good afternoon, Shanks. I’m looking forward to our date this evening. Since you already won, I’m afraid you’re out of the running for the next date. We have to give everyone a chance, of course.”

“Of course.” 

You couldn’t fucking believe the charm that oozed off of him when he beamed at you. 

“I’d still like to try your little game though, if that’s alright, gorgeous?”

Shanks stayed quiet while you laid out the cards, some face up, some face down, before you counted down twenty two from the remaining deck. 

A comforting rhythm, the answer already dancing in your mind. 

“It’s the Eight of Clubs,” Shanks purred, touching the back of your hand. Lingering against your skin.

He looked so fucking smug. 

A sick stillness went through you before you revealed his answer. 

Of course, he knows this trick. He probably learned it before the first time he betrayed—

“Let’s go again,” Shanks ordered, the heat in his voice sending shivers across your shoulders, crawling up your neck. 

The eyes of his competition were on you, but the Emperor looked at you like you were already his. Like you were spread out before him, venison for the skilled hunter to devour. 

“Shuffle,” Shanks threatened, catching your chin in his dangerous fingers. 

Just smile. Just pretend.

“I’m not done playing with you yet, little bunny.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you!!

Author's Note:

Oh my goodness. Thank you so much for waiting, and for reading that giant chapter!! 🥰🙏🏼 I hope you enjoyed it, I've been going bonkers waiting to hear all your thoughts on this big ol' mess!

Let me know in the poll if you'd be interested in a separate post of my OP canon + Numbers Game canon timeline. It would give away reader's specific age, so I don't want to share it if people don't want to know!

Note on the Brochure: All of the character details included in the brochure are from Oda, except for the quotes and the missing details for Giberson. I found them on the One Piece Fandom Wiki if you’d like to go check out more about the characters' history. I live on that site, and have to give those fans the credit for compiling all those details! I already spend hours searching for specific parts in the anime for things like lines for speech patterns and such, I’d be lost without the wiki!

Note on the Card Trick: I must confess, I am not as skilled with numbers as our Numbers Girl. This is the same trick I had Buggy use during the flashback of their first night together, and I have no idea if this 15 year old youtube video is full of shit or not, but if you'd like to try it out, here's the tutorial!

Note on this line from the beginning of the chapter: "The White Stag. The hunted. The prey." Kiki Rockwell's voice has been living in my brain, and I realized this line is similar to hers in Burn Your Village "You do not dance everyday with the fear Of living in headlights, the hunted, the deer"

That song is so good, and fits so well! 🦌😭

Anyhoo, I'm off to try to catch up on all of your wonderful comments! Y'all mean the world to me, thank you so much!!! 🙏🏼💜

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @caniseethefourthsword | @hey-august | @chaoticqueen33 | @destinationmars | @novakitten0901 | @h0n3y-l3m0n05 | @dorky-birdie | @szired | @pinejayy | @laws-wife-things | @jadeddangel | @gingernut1314 | @urlocaltwink | @blue-rae18 | @bontensbabygirl | @bbnbhm | @0-sparkling-lace-0 | @ihearthazuki | @mikisspeak | @djloveyou3000 | @mercymccann | @horse-and-writer97

Part 33

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