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kimageddon · 1 year

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Sins of the Father 4:4

Maul x Nightsister OC (Zaiya Valessa) - Modern/Crime AU

Word count: Approx 5000

Contains/Warnings: Blood, injuries, wounds, NSFW at the end - full chapter available on AO3

Chapter Summary: Maul visits his father and then… doesn't know where else to go.

Notes: See the end of the chapter for notes!

Bad Father, Good Son

He was suspicious immediately. Not only had he been able to enter the gates of the mansion, but only one of the security guards had tried to stop him, only to give up halfway through the sentence. That could only mean one thing.

His father knew he was here.

He had wanted to head right away once Zaiya had accused him, but he’d had to do a little digging of his own first, quietly asking questions and receiving answers on his own, without involving his brothers, and especially not Vizsla. This was something he couldn’t share. It had taken several days to gather all the intel… and a further day to gather the spine enough to come back to this wretched place.

He had lived in this house for much of his life, though many of the rooms he still had not seen. Maul had been pushed away from the main rooms, hidden from guests, forbidden to come out when others were present. So there were still places he found himself lost in.

It was luxurious; antiques and ridiculous items decorated the walls and floors. It was made to look like a family-owned mansion, as though he and his Father had lived there for years, along with the ancestors of his family.

Another lie to add to an already numerous pile.

How much of his life was even true? He had almost been driven mad with all the things he’d been supposed to remember. All the falsehoods and half-truths. For so long, he had thought he had escaped it. He lived with his brothers for years, walking his own path.

Or so he thought.

Perhaps that was the biggest lie of all. He’d had nightmares like this, dreaming he was free and clear, only to realise he wasn’t free at all and he felt the claws of his Father’s control on his back. Thinking that he had escaped when in reality his hands and feet were still bound to strings that his Father pulled and manipulated like a master puppeteer. Usually he would wake with a start in a cold sweat. This time he was not waking up.

The greatest trick the devil ever played was convincing the world he did not exist.

He’d heard that somewhere. He didn’t remember where, but God damn it if it didn’t fit the man that lived in this ostentatious but ultimately hollow house.

As much as the house was a maze and he didn’t know all the rooms, he definitely remembered the way to the study. He’d walked this path a thousand times. Usually with a sense of dread only a child can feel. On his way to be punished for whatever slight the old man had decided Maul was guilty of.

This time, rage overwhelmed the sense of dread and fear. He refused to be afraid of this man any longer. The door to the study was closed and Maul didn’t even knock. With a rough jerk of the handle and a shove, the door opened with a loud bang. The crimson Zabrak strode into the office, his golden eyes bazing, as though if he glared hard enough, the old man might just catch fire.

“What a surprise this is,” the soft but clear voice spoke and Maul’s blood ran cold. That voice. How long had it been since he’d heard it? It still prickled the back of his neck. Made his breath catch in his chest. Maul forced himself to swallow his apprehension. He turned to face the man. “I had wondered when you might come to see me, son,” he said with one of those vindictive smiles Maul remembered so well.

Sheev Palpatine sat in a high wingback chair behind a large mahogany desk. He wore a charcoal grey sweater, a glass of some amber liquid sat on his desk next to a few papers and a tablet in his wrinkled. Clearly he was relaxing for the evening, but for some reason he had allowed Maul to enter.

“Are you spying on me?” Maul growled. Palpatine stared him down, those watery blue eyes impassive, maybe slightly amused.

“And why would I do that?” the old man asked, calmly.

“I have never understood why you do half the things you have done,” Maul replied with a barely concealed snarl.

“Therein lies the problem, my son. You do not think, you do not understand.” Maul’s lip curled as his Father’s gaze grew cold.

In truth Maul did understand. His father did this for power. For control. For cruelty, and for fun. He seemed to enjoy seeing Maul suffer. That part Maul didn’t understand. Why did he seem to enjoy tormenting him so? Just another power grab? Why did he seem to hate his own son?

“All I need to understand is you’ve been having people follow me — and this?!” he withdrew a small yellow envelope from within his jacket, still full of cash and flung it, flicking his wrist and the package slapped onto the desk, ruffling the papers for a second. It was only after about three seconds did his eyes finally flick downward to the envelope.

“What about it?”

“You pass this to my people, to give to me — why?!” His teeth grit and he glared down at the old man. A slow and sinister smile began to creep across his wrinkled face.

“Do you really think I would abandon you?” he chuckled, as though it were obvious. The bottom of Maul’s stomach dropped out and he felt sick. It was as though he could feel a layer of dirt on his skin and he wanted nothing more than to tear it from his bones. The look on Palpatine’s face was a mixture of smug and sardonic.

Abandon him?

Maul remembered the frightened little child he once was, the way he cowered and hid from his Father’s punishments at first. Then the way he had shut himself down. The way he made himself stop feeling. He had hardened his heart to it. He had used the pain to make him stronger. Better.

Yet no matter what he did, how he filled his father’s requests to the letter… It was never enough. Nothing was ever good enough. Maul realised with a wrenching feeling in his gut, that his nightmare had indeed come true.

Palpatine had far more than kept tabs on him. If Zaiya could find the trail, then it was likely others could too. If his people found out, there’d be mutiny. If there was some crime committed… Was Maul the patsy? Is that all he had ever been? Palpatine couldn’t afford Maul to start talking, so this was what, insurance.

How stupid could he be?! He knew this man better than anyone and for five ignorant years he thought he was living his own life for once. But it was a lie.

He wasn’t free. He never would be.

“So if anyone ever comes for you, you have a scapegoat to throw at their feet, is that it?” Maul asked in a dark tone. Palpatine just smiled, his arms shifting to lay in his lap as he sat back in his seat.

“Now, now, would I do that to my first born son?” he laughed softly. Maul’s rage swelled in his chest.

“You call me that after what you’ve done?!” he spat, bitterly. “You think I will take anything more from you?!”

“Well, I daresay your own little club might begin to wonder why your profit margins so drastically changed,” Palpatine said calmly. “I would hate for them to… well, misunderstand.” So that was it. His father was trying to ensure Maul didn’t act out against him.

Suddenly the door opened and two large burly fellows in black suits stood in the doorway, another two close behind.

“Escort him out,” Palpatine said tersely. Maul cursed under his breath, his father must have called them when he shifted in his chair. Large hands gripped his shoulders as he attempted to shove them off, telling them he could walk. He did not miss the call from over his shoulder as he left however.

“It was good to see you, son! I shall hope you visit again very soon.”

══════════════════

Knock knock.

Zaiya’s eyes slowly creaked open. What time was it? She groaned softly as she rolled over. 6 AM? No wonder she was so tired. She definitely needed to—

Knock knock.

So she hadn’t imagined it. Dragging herself from her bed, luckily she’d not been working late the night before. In truth, since her last encounter, after Gunray, Grievous, then of course Maul, she’d kept her head down, not wanting to encounter anyone while she quietly collated the information.

If she saw that crimson-skinned bastard again, she thought grimly, it would be too soon. She sighed to herself and glimpse through the peephole. And froze.

“…the fuck?” she hissed under her breath, and without thinking, opened the door. Her mouth opened to spit venom at her visitor when again she was shocked into silence.

It was Maul.

More than that, he stood in the doorway, eyes averted and seeming unfocused. His shirt was torn, his jacket gone, knuckles and face covered in blood and swollen. His shoes were scuffed and he was dirty all over.

“I—I didn’t… I didn’t know where else to go…” he said hoarsely. Zaiya stared at him.

She should tell him no. She should tell him to leave. Tell him she didn’t want to see him. That whatever this was, wasn’t her problem.

She opened the door wider and stepped back to allow entrance.

Damn it. What was she doing?!

He entered and without a word, she cleared a space for him on the little two seater couch in the living room section. He sort of slumped in the chair, looking exhausted, and didn’t move again until she returned with a cup of tea. She handed him the cup, and he took a sip immediately, wincing slightly, and she saw the cut on his lip.

“What happened?” she asked softly, sitting beside him, she laid the little first aid kit on the table, opening it carefully. There was a long silence as he placed his cup down beside it.

“I went to see my father.”

Zaiya felt her stomach tighten and she resisted the urge to say something spiteful. She would let him talk. She reached out to take his hand, and he offered no resistance.

“I looked into what you said,” Maul continued, he looked like he was in pain from far more than his injuries. She began to tend to the cuts on his knuckles carefully. He didn’t seem to need stitches for any of these, thankfully. Not that she cared of course.

“You were right, he was having me followed. For all these years I thought I’d finally escaped him and— it was just a joke to him.” He heaved out a breath and Zaiya’s gaze flicked up to his face. He really looked like hell. From the look of it, he definitely needed a shower, but she didn’t want to interrupt him. So she decided to just ensure his wounds weren’t infected at least.

“He admitted it… like he was concerned about me—!” Maul spat, looking disgusted. Even Zaiya made a face. “All these years, I thought I was finally free of him. I thought he was out of my life… I was in the same city, yes, but I was living my own life— far from everything he represented.” Maul looked away, “I was wrong,” he said sourly. “After he gave his little taunt, he had his people escort me out.”

“I take it they were less than hospitable,” Zaiya said softly, gesturing to the state of him. Maul grimaced.

“They were not.” He paused and let out a deep sigh and glanced up at her. “I should go… after the last time I… I behaved disgustingly.”

“Yes you did,” she said flatly. “Yet you came here anyway.” She tilted her head slightly, “why?”

“I… don’t know,” he admitted, that strained look still on his face. “I managed to fight those fools back enough to get to my bike and I just drove… next thing I know… I was here.”

Zaiya searched his face. He looked genuine… and miserable. She lowered her gaze to his hands again, wondering why she wasn’t telling him to leave.

“You need a shower,” she said finally, “come on.” She moved to stand, gently taking his hands in both of hers. He stood easily but looked a little confused.

“You should be telling me to go.”

“Yes I should,” she admitted.

“I probably wouldn’t do the same for you,” he admitted with a grim expression.

“I doubt that you would,” she confirmed.

“Then… why?” he asked, bewildered. Zaiya took a deep breath, and looked down at his bloody hands.

“Most children only have monsters in their nightmares, and when they wake, all is well. People like you and I… the dreams are far more pleasant than reality,” she said quietly. “Even the bad ones.” There was a silence that passed between them. After a moment his hand squeezed hers. She glanced up, seeing understanding in his golden eyes.

There were no words for a while, and she led him to the bathroom where he could shower and get cleaned up, she would have to tend to his wounds when he had washed the dirt from them. While he was in there, she went to her closet and retrieved a set of men’s clothes, folded up in the back as well as a spare towel. She knocked on the door softly, opening it to bring them to him, and stopped as she saw him. He was stripped to the waist, and while he was indeed impressive to look at, her gaze softened to see the bruises starting to form on his ribs.

“I’ve got something to help with that when you’re done,” she told him quietly. He looked at the pile of fabric with a questioning expression.

“You have men’s clothes?” he asked.

“They’re my boyfriend’s,” she replied in a deadpan manner. She expected a roll of his eyes or some smart comment. What she wasn’t expecting was the sudden stricken expression that passed over his face for a brief moment.

“I see,” he said, his voice becoming hard. Zaiya blinked in surprise.

“I’m kidding,” she clarified with a slight frown. “I have them in case I need to disguise myself, or my work associates need to lay low.”

“Work associates…?” he frowned again.

“The… the guy. The one Saxon saw me with. He’s helping me, and my mentor told me to always be prepared,” she shrugged, her gaze trailing away. “It’s not like I have time for a social life these days anyway.” She caught herself and shook her head. “So, get yourself cleaned up and we can get those wounds dressed. You need to avoid infection.” She suddenly felt a little flustered under his intense gaze and pushed the clothes and towel into his hands, retreating from the bathroom again.

It was another fifteen or so minutes before he returned, giving her time to tidy up her files and make some toast. He’d probably be hungry after being awake all night. The door opened slowly, and it was strange to see Maul in a t-shirt and sweatpants, but he had to be more comfortable in this than his ruined suit. She offered him a place of freshly made toast, but took it back when he reached out with his hand.

“Hang on…” she said, and gestured for him to follow, taking her place on the couch again, putting the plates on the coffee table. Maul sat beside her again, and now that he was clean, she began to disinfect and cover his wounds. His eyes watched her as intensely as he had the first time.

“Why are you investigating my father?” he asked finally. “Who hired you?”

She’d known this was coming.

“My client wishes to remain anonymous,” she began, “but what I can tell you, even though I shouldn’t… is that I am here to expose him. To unearth every dirty secret and bring the dossier to someone that can do something about it.”

“You think there is someone that can do something about it?” Maul scoffed. “If you have been investigating him for as long as you have been here, you know how powerful he is…!”

“I do, which is why I have been working with people that can hopefully point me in the right direction.” She looked up at him again for a moment. “I have some allies, and we have a lot of dirt, but we need more. So far, he’s pinned quite a lot on you.”

“You don’t think I did it? That I am not working for him?”

“I did… but I don’t think that anymore,” she admitted.

“What changed your mind?” he asked cautiously. Zaiya finished with one hand and took up the other, looking into his eyes as she spoke this time.

“You did,” she said simply. “Of course this could all be an elaborate ploy. I wouldn’t put it past him…” she said bitterly, but then her expression softened. “Though I am confident that you are being truthful.” She wrapped his hand up, and gestured to his torso.

“That’s unnecessary,” he muttered and tried to wave her off as he reached for the toast. She seemed to have been correct about his hunger.

“You’re bruised and it’s going to swell, let me put an icepack on it… or should I just call an ambulance?” she threatened firmly, glowering at him. Maul raised a brow and looked at her for a few seconds. After a lengthy pause, he sighed, and gave in, lifting his shirt again while she reached for the ice-pack and wrapped it in a protective layer so it would not freeze his skin. She paused as she turned back, and had to force herself not to follow the contours and curves of the tattoos, and his body. It was hardly the time.

“You speak of my father like you know him,” Maul said quietly, as he held part of the bandage in place as she wound the other end around his ribcage. He was broad enough that he had to lean in, nearly hugging him as she wrapped the bandages firmly but not too tightly around him.

“I know some of what he’s done,” she said evasively. “I have seen the things he’s done here.” She avoided his eyes again, but he didn’t press.

She could feel his gaze on her as she tended the rest of his wounds, feeling her skin prickle and tension rising within her. She should send him back, or call his brothers… or do… something. Something to get him out of there, so he would leave.

“There, that should—” she looked up as she finished the last of the bandages, and the words died in her throat. Maul was looking at her with such an intense expression, that her breath caught in her throat. He looked to her eyes, then to her lips, and back again.

She shouldn’t…

He leaned in, and one of his bandaged hands caressed her cheek.

This wasn’t a good idea.

He drifted closer, lips parting…

She mustn’t let this happen.

Zaiya closed the distance and pressed her lips to Maul’s. At the acceptance of his affections, he leaned in further, snaking his hands around her, to pull her closer via her hips. The kiss became more intense, and she could feel a roughness, where his lip was split, and taste blood.

She pulled back slightly.

“You need rest,” she said quietly, though Maul, it seemed, didn’t want to stop kissing her.

“I need you,” he breathed a hair’s breadth away from her own lips. There was a deep melancholy in his eyes, a pain that she understood well. He didn’t want to be alone, and she was sure saying even those three words was hard for him. It was unspoken, but from the way he gripped her, he meant it. Her body relaxed in his grasp and he surged forward, kissing her deeply.

The hesitance in her mind faded away as she began to relax. Her plush form moulded against his as he pulled her even closer. This time her hands slid up over his shoulders and very gently caressed the back of his head between his horns. He let out a sigh against her mouth and gripped her hip tighter.

The rest of this chapter is NSFW - if you wish to continue please check out the full chapter on AO3

Notes: Hello friends!

Well… that break was far more extended than I anticipated! A few weeks became like 5 months. Yikes.

So in the time since I have seen you last, I was nearly made homeless, moved house, fell into a rut and creative depression and I am clawing my way back in an effort to finish this story by the end of the year. Sins is becoming my focus for the time being, though I do still have the desires to continue A Prince of Dathomir and with Ahsoka coming out - ohohoho do I have ideas for that series!

In the meantime, I will be mostly focusing on Sins for the time being, hopefully I am able to get it done sooner rather than later. I still have 2 chapters of Sins to write and to get about 30k words by the end of the year? Idk if I can make it with my current life being what it is, but we shall see!

So, I'll do my best to post some more Sins next fortnight!

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#star wars #darth maul #sins of the father #nightsister oc #modern au #crime au

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emotionalcadaver · 1 year

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Part 19: In the Bleak Midwinter

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Grace Burgess x OC

Summary: John forces their hand and Tommy has gifts for both of his girls.

Word Count: 5,596

Notes: Warnings for depictions of mild sexual content, polyamory, and references to sexual abuse/assault.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 3: The Sapphire

Her fingers stroked rhythmically over the horse’s flank. She was gray and dappled, with soft dark eyes and a particularly long mane that always seemed to be falling across her snout. Lucy rested her cheek against her, smiling softly to herself at the way that horse’s sides expanded with its sigh.

“What the hell have you to be sighing about, eh, Mystery?” she asked, feeding her another sugar cube from her palm. “Treated like a fucking queen here, you are.”

Tommy cleared his throat as he stepped into the stable, scowling. Raising her head, Lucy frowned, watching as he fumbled with his cigarette case.

“What happened?”

“I need you to cancel all of my meetings for the day.”

Her brows rose. “All of them?”

“Yes. We’re going to London.”

“We are?”

He nodded. “Come on.”

Giving Mystery a pat goodbye, she followed Tommy out of the stables and towards the gates of the yard.

“I’ll get Arthur and John to hold the meeting with Mr. Changretta.”

“Alright.”

“I think everything else can be rescheduled. Why are we going to London?”

“The priest said that there’s a man there I am to meet.”

“Oh,” she forced back a shudder at the mention of Hughes. There had been a reason why she was hiding away in the stables while Tommy had his meeting with him.

She had done extensive research on Hughes, after it became apparent that they were going to have to work with him. And the things she’d learned were enough to make her skin crawl with hate and disgust.

Unsurprising, though. He was a Catholic priest, after all.

Priests made her nervous. She had been raised Catholic. Had been sent to a Catholic school where she got smacked around almost daily by the nuns for her mouth and her defiance. But in a way, she had been lucky. None of the priests had ever taken a shine to her, after all.

Bile rose in her throat at the memories of what had happened to the children that they did.

Tommy had not been bothered when she told him she would rather sit this meeting out, and she’d gone to the stables as soon as Hughes had arrived, not even sticking around to greet him. While she was probably much too old for Hughes’s taste, his eyes on her made her want to wretch.

“Who is it that we’re meeting in London?”

“Romanov.”

“Leon Petrovich Romanov?”

“Yeah. You’ve done research on him?”

“Of course.”

“Good,” he pushed open the gate. “You can tell me on the train.”

∗ ∗ ∗

“Hello, Ada. I need to borrow a book about the Russian Revolution.”

She had to stifle her snickers as Tommy’s voice boomed in the otherwise quiet library, footsteps thundering against the floorboards. Ada looked vaguely horrified, whether at simply her brother’s behavior or at the fact that he was in the library at all; it was hard to tell.

The stepladder creaked as Ada climbed it, running her fingers along the spines of the books while she spoke to Tommy in a soft voice. Bracing her hands and a table, Lucy leaned back, craning her head up to stare at books that lined the shelves on either side of them. Ada offered Tommy a choice of two books, and looked rather disappointed, but not surprised, at the one he chose.

Leaning over his shoulder, Lucy watched him leaf through the pages. Ada was asking about the Russian who had been at the wedding. Tommy only seemed to be half paying attention to her, eyes scanning over the pages. Reaching around him, Lucy tapped her finger once against the name close to the top of the left corner of the page. Where the bolded words spelled out: PETROVICH, ROMANOV, LEON. Arch Duke.

“Can I rip this page out?” he asked. Ada balked.

“No, you cannot rip that page out!”

Tommy sighed, clearly put out. Lucy smirked, still crowding in over his shoulder, eyes scanning quickly along the page of information about Romanov. Filing it away in her mind, she looked up at Ada.

“Do you have any books in Russian?”

“What?”

“I’m teaching myself Russian. Reading books written in it helps me test myself.”

“I don’t think we do.”

“Oh,” Lucy pouted. Ada rounded back onto Tommy, again asking him about the Russian from the wedding. Tommy set down the book with a loud bang after he finished reading the section on Romanov.

“You want all the details because you’re bored, Ada,” he said, Lucy following him as he began to walk towards the exit. Then, he grinned, and over his shoulder, he shouted, “you used to chase rats with a revolver, Ada. I might just have a job for you after all.”

Lucy laughed, clapping a hand over her mouth a moment too late to fully be able to silence it. A couple people shushed them, but Tommy just elbowed her fondly, grinning widely.

“Is that really true?” she asked once they were outside. Tommy nodded.

“She was far more effective at dealing with the rats than any of our traps ever were,” he cocked his head. “You really want more books written in Russian?”

She shrugged. “I’ve finished all the ones I currently have.”

“Show off.”

Smiling, she shoved her hands into her pockets as they began the walk from the library towards the Ritz.

“We can swing by the bookstore on our way to catch the train back to Birmingham, if you’d like.”

“Really?” she looked up excitedly and beamed. “Thanks.”

Tommy shot her a fond look that made her heart go all fluttery, and she had to look away before he noticed the way her cheeks were heating up under his gaze.

“So how do you want to do this?” she asked, as the Ritz came into view.

“Just listen and take notes. Don’t let it on that you know Russian. You can give me the translations if he says anything that’s not in English after.”

“All right,” her thumb rubbed idly along one of the simple, plain, thin gold rings encircling her fingers. “Do you think that he’ll try anything?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know…” she shrugged. Tommy glanced over his shoulder at her as they approached the doors.

“It’ll be alright.”

Looking up at him, she nodded. He held the door open for her to step inside. She had begun to grow more accustomed to grand, lavish places, but still every once in a while when in a public place as fancy as this, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she didn’t belong there. Like she was still a child, dirty from the stables, and that the second someone noticed her they would have her tossed out and onto the streets.

She eyed the intricate gold detailing on the walls while Tommy talked to the man at the front desk, taking in the tiny leaves embedded in the dark wood.

There was a rather loud boom, and she glanced over her shoulder to see that Tommy had set down a roll of bills in front of the man at the desk. Uh oh. He looked annoyed, shoving his hands in his pockets while he stared at the man with a hardened, stern expression in his blue eyes. Huffing, Lucy began to make her way back over to him.

“Here is a menu,” the man handed Tommy one. “I recommend the teal and the pork. Although your guest, I’m sure, will order the caviar.”

“This is Lucy Winters, my assistant. She will be joining me,” Tommy gestured to her, glancing only briefly at the menu.

“Hello,” Lucy said cheerfully. The man nodded respectfully and held out a menu to her. They followed one of his associates down a hall and into a decadent, private room where they were left to sit at the large, circular table to examine their menus. “What was with the man at the front?” she asked, once they were alone.

“Apparently the Russian has racked up quite the unpaid bill dining here,” Tommy said, eyes glancing over the elaborate white and gold tablecloth and fine crystal set before them disdainfully. A waiter came in to take their orders before leaving them again, and Lucy busied herself pulling her notebook and pen from the inner pocket of her jacket to take notes.

They heard the Russian approaching the room before the doors had even opened, his accent distinctive as he spoke in quick, clipped sentences to a waiter. Rising from their seats, she shared a look with Tommy as they took in Romanov when the doors opened. A severe looking man, with a pointed gray beard and grizzled eyes.

“Mr. Shelby, so nice to meet you,” Romanov said with minimal enthusiasm, shaking Tommy’s hand. His eyes narrowed when they landed on Lucy.

“This is my assistant, Miss. Winters,” Tommy introduced smoothly, but with a finality in his voice that clearly stated he wouldn’t be budging on her presence in the room as they spoke. Something she had always been appreciative of. No matter what, Tommy always made sure that if she wanted to be in a room while decisions were being made, she would be. Gender and traditional values be damned. And she was not naive enough to think that she would have gotten even half as far as she had in some places without his help.

“Pleasure,” Romanov shook her hand before they all returned to their seats at the table, just as the waiters came by to set their orders on the table. The Russian launched into telling the story of how he came to England, spooning copious amounts of caviar onto bits of bread as he talked. Lucy leaned back in her chair, listening in abject horror as Romanov told them in rather graphic detail how he’d lost a toe during the journey. Tommy listened in mostly silence to Romanov’s story, only interjecting to ask the occasional question.

“So you met my niece already?” Romanov asked, spooning more caviar. Lucy didn’t understand how one person could eat so much of the stuff. “Tatiana. Are you in love with her yet, hmm?”

Lucy felt her face contort, lips twitching upwards. Pretty as Tatiana had been when they briefly saw her, Lucy sensed that any type of romance involving her would end quite literally in flames.

Not that it mattered. They had made a promise to Grace. One that they both fully intended to keep.

“You would be wise not to love Russian women, you know. Ah, better not speak of Russian women.”

Tommy looked down as Romanov continued to ramble, pulling out a cigarette from his case and offering her one. He had characteristically barely touched his food, eating only a few mouthfuls before nudging the plate towards her so she could take what she wanted from it. She had only ordered a small portion of the fish, and after she finished that she ate a few bites of his pork, and most of the complementary fruit, leaving the rest for the wait staff to clear away.

Romanov made a discontented sound. “That is the worst thing about being here. Russian women, they know how to hold it. And most important, they know exactly when to let it go,” he handed Tommy a lighter from across the table. He lit her cigarette, and then his own, and she leaned back in her chair, allowing a stream of smoke to blow from her lips as her brows rose.

“Your cock, I mean,” Romanov supplemented. His eyes flickered briefly over to Lucy. “English women, they do not know so much, you know?”

Lucy had to stifle a snort, biting the inside of her cheek, aware that any response she might have had to that statement would probably get her into more than a little bit of trouble. Tommy didn’t say a word, but under the table, she felt the toe of his shoe nudge against hers. His face remained unchanged, though she could see the tiniest flicker of something dark in his eyes at the subtle insult that had just been made.

Perhaps Romanov saw it too, because he quickly changed the subject. “Did he die well, the spy?”

There was a drawn out pause, before Tommy spoke. “He begged for his life.”

The conversation then turned to the subject of trust, and with that, came the discussion of money. Because considering the debt that Romanov had clearly racked up at this establishment alone, it was not out of line to wonder if he could even afford to pay them what remained of the fee they’d been promised. When Tommy mentioned the fact that Romanov was technically not directly related to the Romanovs, but Georgian, Romanov’s hand tightened so violently around his glass that it exploded in his palm, and he had to wrap his hand with a napkin. Lucy tensed, but Tommy didn’t seem bothered at the display of rage, so she did nothing.

“Okay…” she had to scoot her chair to the side in order to make room when Romanov stood, picking up his chair and setting it down between her and Tommy.

He sat back down, and began to spin another story. This one about how his wife and niece had smuggled diamonds and sapphires into the country with them. From his pocket, he pulled out a huge, blue stone. Practically glowing with its hue of deep blue.

A blue that was not unsimilar to that of Tommy’s eyes.

He held it out to Tommy. For the killing of the spy. And a down payment for any other services.

It took only a little probing for Tommy to have Romanov admitting that the Russians had their own treasury. Romanov’s back was to her, so he didn’t see the look of smug triumph that she shared with Tommy at the admittance. Tommy’s eyes keep darting back to the sapphire, looking at it almost wantonly. Like it was seducing him. Lucy couldn’t really blame him. It was an undeniably beautiful stone.

“Very well,” he plucked the blue gem from Romanov’s fingers. “I shall have my people check its veracity,” he tucked it into his coat pocket. When he reached out to pick up the lighter, the Russian slammed his hand onto Tommy’s, pinning it to the table with a bang. Lucy started, half rising from her seat, but a stern look from Tommy had her pausing, settling back into her chair. Though she kept her muscles tense and prepared to spring if need be.

“Before the revolution began, we were soft and weak. We made compromise,” Romanov half rose, so his face was shoved in close to Tommy’s. “But let me tell you: we will never be soft and weak again. Do you understand?”

Tommy met his eyes with that icy, defiant glare, and then looked down. Lucy cocked her head. Romanov’s words had had an effect on him, though perhaps not the one that he had intended. Nevertheless, he nodded and released his hold on Tommy.

“Good day, Mr. Shelby.”

Tommy didn’t say anything, as he got up from his chair. “Lucy,” he said in quiet command. Gathering up her notebook and pen, she tucked both away into her coat pocket and followed him out the door.

“Well, he’s about what I expected him to be,” she said as soon as they were outside.

“What? Volatile?” Tommy asked.

“And pompous,” she added, rolling her neck from side to side as she stretched her arms. They stopped by the bookstore on their way to the train station, and she purchased several more Russian books to read, the bag heavy in her hand as they waited on the platform before stepping on the train and into a compartment, closing the door and pulling the blinds closed, leaving them in complete privacy.

“At least we have confirmation about the treasury,” she remarked, setting her bag down on the floor by her feet. Tommy grunted, lighting another cigarette for himself. Beneath them, the train jerked as it began to move. “Don’t think that I’ve seen anything quite like that sapphire before.”

Tommy shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. “It’s alright.”

“Please. You were looking at it like you were in love with it.”

His lips quirked upwards, reaching into his inner pocket to pull out the blue stone. He held it out for her to take, the weight of it cold and heavy as it sat in her palm. Rubbing her thumb along its smooth edge, she turned it over, watching how the light caught and changed the shade of it. It was almost sinister in its beauty. Seductive and mysterious. She felt as though her fingers burned when she touched it. Again, that feeling of still being the poor little Romani girl left her with the itching sensation that she was not meant to hold something so precious and grand.

“Do you want it?” Tommy asked her, suddenly. Rolling it over once more between her fingers, she shook her head.

“Blue isn’t really my color.”

He ran his thumb along the sharp point of it after she deposited it back into his palm. “You think that Grace would like it?”

Inclining her head, she smiled. “Probably. You could have it made into a necklace for her. It would bring out the color of her eyes.”

“Mm,” he hummed, thoughtfully, holding it up to the light one last time before tucking it back away into his pocket. Crossing one leg over the other, Lucy let her foot swing back and forth through the air, considering Romanov’s words during the meeting.

“I know that this is probably a stupid thing to ask, but…” she trailed off, biting her lip. Tommy glanced at her with raised brows.

“Yes?”

“Well, it’s just with what Romanov said about English women, I was wondering…” again, she stopped before she could finish the sentence, though the unsaid question was clear. Tommy’s eyes filled with sudden warm mirth, smirking as he raised from his seat across from her in the compartment to instead settle beside her, arm going around her shoulders as he chuckled.

“You hold my cock absolutely perfectly, love.”

She felt her cheeks heat involuntarily at the praise, looking down at her hands bashfully as Tommy chuckled and pressed his smiling lips to her temple.

∗ ∗ ∗

When they got back to the office, she went straight to Tommy’s, only vaguely listening to the hum of his voice as he spoke to Michael in the next room.

“Who’s the girl?” she asked, not looking up from the papers she had started to shuffle through as Tommy came in. Lucy had seen her only from the corner of her eye as they entered, standing in Michael’s office.

“Someone who was at the wedding.”

“Oh. Well, it’s nice that Michael’s got someone.”

He just grunted, going to the phone, spinning the dial and holding the receiver up to his ear. “Polly? Michael said I needed to call you,” he listened, lips pursing. Straightening, Lucy stalked slowly around the desk until she was behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pillowing her head between his shoulder blades. She could feel tension beginning to build throughout the muscles in his back. “Right,” he sighed. “Get John and Arthur to the house. I’ll be there soon,” he hung up, rubbing a hand over his eyes. Lucy lifted an eyebrow.

“Trouble?”

“John cut Angel Changretta.”

“He what?”

Tommy just nodded. “Apparently the meeting with the old man didn’t go well. John said some things that insulted him. Arthur wanted him to apologize, Polly wanted him to compromise. He chose to go with a different approach.”

“For fucks sake,” she turned away, towards the window. When she glanced back at Tommy, his lips were pursed, facial expression exasperated. But there was also a glimmer in his eyes. Something opportunistic. “You agree with what he did?” she asked.

Tommy huffed, dropping down into his chair. “It was fucking stupid. But there’s not much that can be done about it now.”

“What else did Polly say?”

“She’s still urging for compromise. Or apologizing.”

“If you do that, everyone will think that you can’t control your own family members. It’ll look like weakness, and before we know it everyone will be wanting apologies or compromises when they feel slighted. John fucked up,” she ran a hand through her hair. “But we don’t have much of a choice now. His actions have backed us into a corner.”

Tommy nodded, and she could see in his eyes that she had just verbalized exactly what he had already been thinking. Leaning his head back, he groaned. “This is the last thing that we need right now.”

Reaching out to him, she guided his head to rest against her stomach, running her fingers through his soft, dark hair as his arms went around her. “I know,” she shook her head. “Fucking John.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with him,” Tommy muttered, shoulders heaving as he sighed. “With either of them.”

“What do you mean?”

“John’s only gotten more volatile. Less predictable. And Arthur’s…” he groaned. “Arthur’s getting soft.”

We will never be soft and weak again, Romanov’s voice echoed in her head.

“All that Bible thumping’s getting to his head,” she supplemented. “And John…” she bit her lip. “John’s been upset since Lizzie first started dating Angel.”

Tommy shot her a sharp look. “You don’t think…”

“I don’t know,” she shook her head. She had thought John had gotten over the brief, ill-advised engagement he’d had with Lizzie years ago. That he was devoted to–or at least, as devoted as was possible for him to be–to Esme. But maybe not. “Who knows what was actually going on in John’s head. Will you tell him off for it?”

“Not right away,” Tommy leaned back, scratching at his eyebrow. “Certainly not in front of Polly and Arthur.”

“Mm. You have a plan?”

“First we’ll take two of Changretta's pubs.”

“They’re going to come after you now.”

Tommy nodded, thumb circling her hip through the material of her slacks. “Yeah. But we can handle that.”

Bending at the waist, she kissed his forehead. “Go speak with your family. I’ll finish up the stuff we’ve got here. Then I’ll head over to Hockley and take care of things there.”

He nodded, getting up with a sigh. “I’ll come find you when I’m done. Then we can go home.”

“All right,” she nodded, stretching up on her toes to kiss him. “Good luck.”

∗ ∗ ∗

“Can I see it?” Lucy asked, soon as she and Tommy were piled into the car. He grinned at her conspiratorially, wetting his lips and reaching into his pocket to pull out the necklace that he’d had the sapphire fashioned into, glittering in the fading light of the sun as it dangled from his fingers.

“You think that she’ll like it?”

“Holy shit, Tommy, it’s gorgeous,” she ran her fingertip along the smooth blue edge. “She’s going to love it.”

He shot her a smile, tucking the necklace back into his pocket and putting his arm around her waist, kissing her hair.

It was dark by the time they pulled up to Arrow House, the big front doors shutting behind them rather loudly. Lucy shucked off her coat and hat, handing them to a maid.

It was still so strange to have people around whose sole job was to serve them.

She followed Tommy into one of the sitting rooms. A recorder was playing music, and the glasses clinked as Tommy poured himself some whiskey. Grace came trotting in from the other room, slowing her cute little jog to a walk, face blooming with her grin when she saw them.

“Hello,” Tommy greeted her with a smile.

“Hello,” Grace went to kiss him, head turning to give Lucy a peck the moment that they had parted. “Sit down,” she gestured to the couch. Tommy cleared his throat, taking Lucy’s hand and pulling her to sit next to him. Grace was still grinning, clutching a piece of paper between her fingers, practically oozing excitement as she told them about the extensive guest list she’d put together for the charity dinner. She knelt down on her knees on the floor in front of them as she talked. “Everyone has said yes. Everyone.”

“Ah,” Tommy smiled, glancing over the paper Grace handed him before setting it on the table.

“I keep having to change the catering. And my writing hand is almost falling off.”

“Oh, what are you writing for? I bought you a typewriter,” Tommy admonished. Grace laughed gently.

“You can’t write letters of a social occasion on a typewriter.”

“Oh, forgive me.”

Lucy looped her arm through Tommy’s, leaning her head on his shoulder as they watched Grace continue to babble excitedly, spreading out the drawings of plans for development on the grounds. She was brimming with light and joy and excitement, smiling widely as she stretched up to kiss Tommy again. She was so damn cute Lucy couldn’t hardly believe it. It was easy to let any of the stress she had been carrying from the day melt away as she watched her lovers.

“You’re not listening to me,” Grace smiled at Tommy as he lifted one of his hands to touch the side of her face.

“Yes I am. I am,” he assured, stroking her face. Lucy let her head rest more heavily against him, more than content to just watch them be adorable with one another.

“Do you think I’m becoming obsessed?” Grace asked.

“Yes,” Tommy answered, honestly.

“But only a little bit,” Lucy added gently. Grace bit her lip as her eyes darted between them, trying, and failing, not to smile.

“Should I ask you how your days was like a good wife?”

“No,” Tommy shook his head while Lucy made a groaning noise and burrowed deeper into his side.

“I’m guessing that means your day was not as successful as mine.”

Tommy’s eyes shimmered. “That all depends on how you measure success. See, personally, I measure it in sapphires.”

Lucy felt her grin grow across her face. Grace laughed, eyes widening.

“Oh! Sapphires,” she raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Uh huh,” his gaze darted over to Lucy, both their eyes dancing with the knowledge that they shared. He looked back at Grace. “Close your eyes.”

Grace blinked, looking equal parts confused and excited. Tommy nodded.

“Close your eyes,” he repeated in a whisper. Grace pecked him on the lips, then resituated herself on the floor with her back to them. Lucy shot Tommy a conspiratorial grin as she sat up, leaning forward enough to make sure that Grace wasn’t peeking. Tommy fumbled with the necklace, holding it by each end of the chain as he held it out in front of Grace. Lucy giggled giddily. “Alright, you can open ‘em.”

Grace’s eyes opened, and her jaw dropped. “Where the hell did you get that?”

Tommy smiled, leaning back so that he could do the clasp of the necklace, locking it around her neck. It looked right on her. Nestled directly below her collarbone. And Lucy was smug in the knowledge that she’d been right: it did bring out the soft blue of her eyes.

“It’s beautiful,” Grace brushed her fingers delicately along the sapphire. Tommy finished hooking the clasp and cradled her shoulders, leaning forward. Lucy scooted towards Grace, lowering herself to sit on the floor next to her, kissing her cheek affectionately. Grace looked at her with wide eyes. “Were you in on this, love?” she asked teasingly. Lucy nodded proudly.

“Having it made into a necklace was my idea.”

Grace chuckled and kissed her.

“You can wear it to the foundation dinner,” Tommy told her. Grace laughed. Tommy nuzzled at her neck.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit much for a charity dinner?” but she was still smiling.

“Grace,” Tommy put both of his arms around her, and Lucy shifted so she was closer to them. “This is fucking Birmingham. ‘Good taste’ is for people who can’t afford sapphires,” his voice broke slightly at the end in a laugh. Grace threw her head back, smiling and laughing before suddenly leaping to her feet, turning around and promptly shoving Tommy down onto his back on the couch.

“Oh, Mr. Shelby.”

Lucy grinned as she watched them, then let out a small yelp as the arms of her lovers reached out, and pulled her up onto the couch to join them.

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy sighed softly, head coming to rest on Tommy’s chest, his shirt half undone and allowing her to feel the burn of his warm skin against her cheek. Grace hummed from her place curled up next to her, slim arm wrapping around her. Her dress was askew, golden blonde hair a mess. The blue stone resting just beneath her collarbone seemed to nearly glow. It was a tight, awkward fit for the three of them on the couch, but they found a way to make it work. They always did.

Grace huffed finally and sat up. “I should go check on Charlie,” she said. Lucy sat up alongside her, moving to help zip up her dress.

“How was he today?” Tommy asked, propping himself up on his elbows. Grace’s cheek dimpled when she smiled.

“Alright. Though he keeps throwing his peas at Mary during lunchtime.”

Tommy snickered, sitting up fully to press a kiss first to Grace’s cheek and then to Lucy’s. The three rose slowly from the couch, helping each other to refasten buttons and smooth down rumpled hair.

“Hand me my coat, will you, Grace?” Tommy said, standing as he helped to button back up Lucy’s blouse.

She raised an eyebrow, lips twitching upwards when she glanced at Lucy, like she knew something that she didn’t, before stooping to carefully pick up the dark coat from where it had been unceremoniously tossed prior.

With one hand sliding into the pocket of the coat and the other at her waist, Tommy spun Lucy around so that her back was to him before tugging her close, arm wrapping around her waist to pull her back tight against his front. His lips were warm as they brushed against her ear.

“Don’t think that I’ve gone and forgotten about you, now,” Tommy purred in her ear. Grace grinned, pouring three glasses of whiskey, eyes glimmering with happiness as she watched them. Tommy pulled his hand from the pocket of his coat, and from his fingertips dangled a huge, glimmering, deep red garnet, a twin to the stone settled around Grace’s neck in everything but color.

“How the hell did you get that? I’ve been with you the entire day!” Lucy gaped in awe of the beautiful stone. Tommy laughed, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck as he clasped the chain around her throat.

“Let me at least keep some of the mystery alive.”

“You’re not the only one who’s good at being sneaky, you know,” Grace giggled, walking to stand in front of Lucy and nuzzle her nose against hers when they kissed.

“I considered a ruby,” Tommy spoke softly. “But I know that you’ve always preferred garnets.” He finished hooking the clasp and pushed on her shoulder lightly to encourage her to turn to face him. Grace wrapped her arms around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder. Tommy smiled softly, brushing a few curls out of her face. “Matches your hair.”

Lucy leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Be careful, or we’ll all end up back on that couch again.”

Her lovers laughed brightly while Lucy looked down to caress the red stone resting on her chest. She never would have thought that she would feel so loved. So happy and at peace with her life. Grace left them both with a quick kiss to go check on Charlie, while Tommy took her hand in his, warm fingers interlacing with her chilled ones, as he tugged her to follow him from the room.

∗ ∗ ∗

Charlie squawked as they led him down to the stables, tottering along behind his father. Lucy grinned at the way that he patted his tiny hand along one of the horse’s flanks. Charlie loved coming down to see the horses, giggling and clapping his hands together in delight. Lucy laughed when she hoisted him up into her arms so that he could pet one of their horse’s noses, and he tried to grab a handful of her red curls. Ever since he was an infant, Charlie had always been trying to grab at her hair.

They took him outside to the troughs, where he peered down to look at the brightly colored goldfish swimming around inside. Grace giggled as she watched him bend over to mumble at the fish and Tommy removed one of his black gloves, tracing a finger through the water, encouraging Charlie to do the same.

Lucy glanced over at Tommy, practically melting at the soft look that had crossed his features as he watched his son play. Biting her lip, she wrapped an arm each around him and Grace, dropping her head against Tommy’s shoulder while Grace leaned into her chest. Tommy’s cheek rested against the top of her head. Charlie made a delighted sound when he looked up and saw his three parents subtly cuddling, trotting over to join them in the hug.

Lucy didn’t think that anything had ever felt so right before, as it did in that moment.

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#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #grace burgess #grace burgess x oc #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x grace burgess x oc #lucy winters #lucy winters x tommy shelby #lucy winters x grace burgess #lucy winters x tommy shelby x grace burgess #my ocs #my fanfiction #in the bleak midwinter #not an update

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10piecechickennuggy · 1 year

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Magic and Secrets, Chapter 2 - Sanji x Witch!OC

WARNING: Mature content ahead!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own One Piece or the art featured above. This is a fan-created work featuring an original character.

Read Chapter 1 Here

Bloodied hands scrubbed frantically at the marble floor, tears mixing with soapy water.

“Please, my Lord! Have mercy!” A slave pleaded to her master.

Misericors Toshinori only scoffed at the pathetic display. “And why should I? It’s not like she’s my daughter.”

Vera continued to scrub, the wounds on her hands stinging. She tried desperately to ignore the conversation happening behind her. Even at six years old, she knew better than to hope for kindness. Not from her stepfather.

“She’s just a child! Give her a chance to live, I beg you!” The woman dropped to her knees, groveling before the white-clad man.

“The illegitimate brat is lucky she’s even allowed to breathe.” Misericors sneered, hatred flowing like venom from his lips. “At the very least I should be able to profit from her continued existence.”

“Enough of this.” A firm, feminine voice interrupted the slave before she could speak. Praesentia Aenigmatica, the lady of the house, entered the ornately decorated parlor. An air of authority followed the woman. “Stop this wretched babbling and get back to work.” Her eyes crinkled as her attention shifted from the slave to her child, still scrubbing away as if she’d not just had her hands crushed.

Paper rustled as it exchanged hands. Praesentia’s scowl transitioned into a delighted smile upon reading the letter’s contents. “This is splendid, dear. Finally, someone willing to pay our asking price.”

Praesentia moved to exit the room, turning to address the slave who’d been pleading for her daughter’s arranged marriage. “And clean up the whelp. She’s smearing blood on the floor.”

***

“Excuse me, miss. But may I see your panties?” Vera stared at the skeletal hand outstretched toward her. The undead man had made the vulgar request with such decorum that the girl didn't know how to respond. Luckily enough, that decision was made for her almost immediately.

“Ow!” Bone could be heard breaking under Nami’s fist.

“Cut it out, Brook!” Anger morphed the ginger woman’s face into a monstrous expression. “Go be a perv somewhere else!”

The musician rubbed his afro-clad skull as he scurried away. “Sorry about him. Anyway, it’s nice to meet you!” As if the disturbance had never occurred, Nami’s features returned to a calm smile.

Vera opened her mouth, about to thank the woman for dealing with the offending skeleton when a boy bounded up to her, holding a straw hat firmly against his head. “So you’re a witch?!” The raven haired boy wore a toothy grin that scrunched his face.

Smooth fingers landed on Vera’s shoulder. “The genuine article.” Sanji nodded, lifting a newly-lit cigarette to his lips and inhaling deeply. “I thought a spell caster would make a great addition to the crew. Plus, she’s a trained maid!”

Luffy’s eyes sparkled. “That’s so cool! Join my crew!” He waited with impatience for Vera’s answer.

She shook the cook’s hand off her shoulder and pondered her options. This group was far more eclectic than she’d imagined when Sanji told her they were pirates. The captain was barely an adult and acted more like an impulsive child. Did she really want to swear her loyalty to someone so boisterous?

Sensing her hesitation, a furry creature approached. Vera had to look downward, observing the form of a tanuki. With antlers? And a hat? It spoke in a child-like voice. “If you’re nervous, I can promise you’ll have fun here!”

The girl’s head rotated, her gaze meeting a large window. Trees bent in harsh curves, strong winds forcing them into unnatural positions. A thick haze obscured much of the village, rain falling in quantities so large that only the buildings nearest the hotel could be seen. Had she not ran into Sanji at such an opportune moment, she’d likely be out in this very storm. But thanks to that chance encounter, she was indoors and engaged in a conversation with the potential to alter her life indefinitely.

“Alright.” She nodded to her new captain, deciding an uncertain future was favorable to continuing the past.

“Woohoo!” Luffy raised a fist in the air, exclaiming his excitement. “That’s one more crew member and one step closer to becoming King of the Pirates! Sanji, start cooking so we can celebrate!”

***

Sanji in fact, did not cook upon his captain’s request. Being stuck ashore, away from his kitchen and pantry, the chef had nothing to prepare. Instead, the crew had raided the hotel’s snack bar. A banquet of junk food now spread amongst them, half emptied wrappers and tins littered the hotel room as lively chatter filled the air.

“And that’s how I took down a kidnapping ring using only a seashell, an empty book of matches, and my trusty slingshot!” Usopp struck a proud pose as his story concluded. The tale had been an obvious fabrication, but entertaining nonetheless.

“Yeah, yeah.” Zoro dismissed the other man’s excitement, a sake bottle hovering just short of his lips. “You sure your name isn’t really Pinocchio? That nose is long enough for it.”

“What’s a Pinocchio?” Chopper - who Vera later discovered was not a tanuki but actually a reindeer, and the crew’s doctor - asked through a mouthful of cotton candy.

“He’s calling Usopp a liar.” Robin answered the confused reindeer, her eyes obscured by a book recounting the island’s history.

“What? That story wasn’t true?” The doctor’s innocent eyes bore into his nakama, silently begging for the enrapturing tale he’d just heard to be true.

A snort brought the group’s attention to their newest crewmate. Vera had been taking a drink, the adorable scene being so out of place amidst a group of criminals that she couldn’t help the laughter now flowing from her drenched lips.

“For you, mademoiselle.” A clean handkerchief was offered to the girl, deep blue orbs seeming to gaze into her soul. She’d come to learn much about the StrawHat Pirates in the few short hours she’d spent with them. For example, the kind chef she’d seemingly been rescued by was actually a chivalrous flirt who pushed the line between simp and pervert on a regular basis.

“Thanks, Sanji. But I got this.” With a wave of her hand, the liquid disappeared.

“Woah! That was magic, yeah?” Franky, a large cyborg and the crew’s shipwright, pointed to Vera’s now dry form with a cola bottle. Upon receiving a nod, the blue-haired man continued. “What else can you do?”

Vera nervously rolled the hem of her apron between two fingers, looking down toward her lap. “Mostly just small spells like that. All I did was transport the water into a pocket dimension within the astral plane.”

“Is that where the book came from earlier?”

The girl muttered a quiet affirmative to Sanji’s question, uncomfortable with the number of eyes focused on her.

“You can send things to and from the astral plane?! Just think what you could steal that way! All the berries we’d have!” Nami’s eyes shone with greed, already cooking up a plan and counting the riches it’d bring.

“Or the meat! You’d always have food whenever you wanted!” Luffy joined the navigator in her daydreaming, drool running from his mouth.

“I’d use it for sake!” Zoro joined in, his cheeks already flush from the aforementioned liquor . “Nothing better than a constant supply of good booze!”

“Could you use it to hide dirty magazines?”

“You can do it with books? I’d love to have access to my library wherever we go.”

“Or sweets!”

“What about cola? Barrels of cola!”

“Hey! She isn’t our personal storage!” Sanji cut in, bringing his fellow Strawhats down from their imaginings.

“There’s a limit on how much I can transport.” Vera spoke softly, her companions barely able to hear the words as they came out. “The bigger something is, the more energy it takes to send or retrieve. And I only have so much energy to use before it gets dangerous.” Her eyes never rose as she informed the group of her limitations. “I can regain energy by eating or sleeping, but I can't really store large amounts.”

“Aww man!” Luffy fell onto his back, disappointment evident in his voice. “I really wanted that meat.”

“Could you not eat a huge meal and then transport something bigger?” Robin had closed her book and held a contemplative expression.

“How brilliant, Robin! Beauty and brains! What a blessing it is to be in the same crew as you!” Sanji held his hands tightly together as his eyes turned to hearts. He then turned to Vera, his enthusiasm unwavering. “And if it’s energy you need then I’ll make sure all your meals are packed full of nutrients! Of course I’d do that regardless. I’d never neglect a gorgeous lady’s nutrition! But I’ll put extra love and effort into yours!”

“Think of it like a glass of water.” Vera began, both surprised and silently delighted that someone actually cared to understand her powers. Before continuing, she held out a hand and whispered something unintelligible. An empty glass appeared which she placed on the ground.

“I’m the glass and my energy is the water.” She turned her palm downward, hovering above the cup’s open mouth. Liquid began to ooze from her skin, dripping down and landing within the vessel. “I can pour water in by sleeping or eating, but the cup stays the same size. So even if I sleep for a week or eat a twelve course meal, the amount of power I can store is limited.”

At this point, the glass began to overflow. The liquid’s descent abruptly stopped and began flowing in reverse, disappearing upon its return to Vera’s palm. “Plus, I still need energy to live and do normal, non-magic stuff.” When the cup had emptied, cracks began to form along its walls. “So if I try to do something that uses too much power, I could end up hurting myself.”

The glass disappeared as well once Vera had finished her speech and demonstration. Her eyes grew wide and she began to stammer, blurting out a hasty adage. “B-but I wouldn’t mind transporting stuff for you guys! As long as it isn’t too big or anything.”

The witch raised her eyes to meet kind smiles. Nami spoke, her voice soft and genuine. “We get it. Just got a little excited there. But don’t worry. No one here would try to push you too far or force you to do anything.”

***

A bright sunrise glared over the island. Birds sung, nature’s symphony signaling a new day. Tree limbs and shingles littered the streets. The storm had raged through the night, only ending a few hours before dawn. Though damages were evident across the village, no buildings appeared to have suffered structurally.

Vera yawned, stretching her arms into the air. She stood on a balcony, breathing deeply and relishing the petrichor. Her eyes surveyed the island - her home for the better part of a decade - knowing this would be her last chance.

“Coffee?” She turned to see a sleepy blonde chef, a mug of steaming liquid in each hand.

“Thank you, Sanji.” She took the drink happily, sniffing before taking a sip and humming her delight for the flavor.

The man smiled, coming to rest his elbows onto the railing beside her. “We’ll be leaving once everyone’s awake. Last chance to change your mind.”

Dark bangs tossed as Vera shook her head. “Not much to miss when it was never home to begin with.”

“Oh?” A swirly eyebrow raised. “And where is home?”

Vera turned away, her face hidden from the cook. “Far away. In both distance and time. What about you?”

Sanji took on a wistful expression, his gaze moving to the horizon. “I was born in the North Blue, but grew up in the East. Ever heard of a restaurant called Baratie?”

Memories flashed in the back of Vera’s mind. Cruel parental figures, a contract, and a boy from the North Blue. She shook the memories away, continuing the conversation with her new crewmate.

#one piece oc #one piece #one piece sanji #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #sanji vinsmoke

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keikaru · 8 months

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Navy Bird - Pirates in Love

Originally written in 2019. Edited in 2024.

This fandom may be dead, but I’m still here with content! During my FF.net days, lots of readers really wanted my OC from “Pirates in Reminisce Island” to end with Eduardo (and so do I). Dedicating this fic to my old PIL readers if you’re out there. <3

Synopsis: Mina is the daughter of a naval officer. She believes in the law and justice, but soon enough, she discovers corruption is rampant among officers. When she points out their amoral behavior, they turn their weapons on her. She injures one of them out of self-defense but is afraid of their retaliation on the priory. In a strange twist of fate, a member of the Sirius crew saves her, which leads her to reevaluate her beliefs about the pirates.

(You can read this story without any knowledge of PIL.)

Navy Bird

I was raised to believe that navy officers were moral men driven by justice and chivalry.

So why did my hand grip a blade and turned it against men of virtue and righteousness? Officers who were meant to be defenders of the helpless, men who were meant to be incorruptible and deemed worthy of a medal pinned to their lapel…why was itI who raised a hand in defiance to their cruelty?

“You’ll pay for that you wretched whore!” One of the officers yelled, before turning his attention back to his wounded comrade.

I lowered my gaze to the injured man. His back was against the wall as he hunched over, hand pressed over the injury. A crimson stain flourished from underneath his palm, blotting his ivory uniform into a color that matched the wickedness in his heart.

Before the men reacted, I turned and fled from the dim alley. My boots hit the ground, and I heard my heartbeat thunder in my ears.

Adrenaline coursed through my veins as I ran into the night. Darkness found me, steadied me, and told me I would be safe if I kept moving.

I wanted to cry and spill the contents of my dinner onto the ground but was held back by my fear of being caught. My fate was tied to the morning sun, but I couldn’t abandon the priory. They took me in after my father died. The least I could do was warn them about the officer’s retaliation.

The priory would be set ablaze, that much I knew. At the very least, I could warn them about the officer’s retaliation and give them enough time to leave.

I bit my tongue. I held no love for the bastards that seized my town. I knew violence was wrong, but the pain the officer felt was less compared to my people.

Hot tears blurred my vision as I bolted blindly past a bar. A silhouette flickered ahead, and I narrowly avoided a well-dressed man.

“Lass, you’re—”

I skirted around him and hid myself in the dark.

Paranoia struck a powerful chord within me. Every voice and shadow that passed stirred a deep uneasiness inside my chest. To calm myself, I counted backwards from twenty.

When footsteps passed, I exhaled and set out again.

Up ahead, I saw the priory. All the windows were dark and curtained. I hurried along the abandoned road and prayed that someone heard the commotion and notified them to leave.

With every step I took toward the crumbling building, I realized the gravity of the situation. Where would the elderly and children go if the building burned? How would the prioress react? Will the officers harm them?

No. They only knew my face and my face alone. Everyone else was safe. I had to believe that.

As I approached the doorway, someone seized my arm. In that split second, I wondered if my blade would taste another man’s blood tonight.

I whirled around and without thinking, I brandished my blade.

When I met their eyes, it was a man.

The frown on his face was illuminated by the lantern he held. His pristine uniform signified his status in the navy.

Was he that bargoer?

As he stepped closer to me, he held a musket in his other hand. I blanched. How did he find me? Had he been trailing me? It was futile, but I lunged forward with my blade.

He sidestepped me and jabbed the musket at me. I dodged his attack, but the muzzle caught the frills of my blouse. As I scrambled to get away, he only grinned and threw me against the wooden door of the priory.

I cried out and dropped my blade as pain seared throughout my collarbone. He pressed the muzzle against my clavicle, and I gritted my teeth. My flimsy blouse was a thin layer against his cold, callous weapon.

I struggled, but he only pressed the weapon harder against me.

“If only you’d let us have our fun,” the man mused, bringing the lantern close to my face. I winced at the sudden brightness. “If it weren’t for your pretty face, this damned place would have burned down a long time ago. Funny how you’d sully yourself just to protect this shit hole of a home.”

The officer laughed, setting the lantern on the ground. He moved closer and stepped on the blade, preventing me from reaching it. With the musket still pressed to my body, he leaned forward and grabbed my chin, prying my mouth open with his thumb.

I held my gaze as he observed me, eyes raking down my torn blouse. I bristled with rage and kept quiet.

He clicked his tongue in amusement and released my chin.

“Your father was an honorable officer. He died while defending his values, you know. A virtuous man until the end.” He reached up and brushed a stray strand of hair from my face. “It’s poetic the daughter will die the same way.”

Immediately, he struck me across the face. I gasped out in pain and cradled a hand to my cheek, blinking back tears.

“I hate women like you.” He grabbed a fistful of my hair and forced me to look up. A scathing look mingled with disgust crossed his features. It unsettled me. “Educated, perceptive, and beautiful—pah. Women are creatures of obedience and ignorance. Not a single thought should cross that pretty little head of yours. Your father tainted you, spoiled you with the delights only a man should have.”

“My father wasn’t bound by tradition,” I spat out, twisting away from his grip. “He gifted me with knowledge because he knew I could stand as an equal in this world.”

The officer threw his head back and laughed. “Your father was a fool. His ideas of virtue and valor only made others laugh at him. He believed officers were the hand of justice in these unprecedented times.” He curled a hand around my neck but didn’t suffocate me—yet. I clawed at his gloved hand in vain as he pressed against my neck. “If he let us have our way, he wouldn’t have died, you know.”

“What are you trying to get at?” I demanded.

He slowly tightened his grip around my throat.

The officer smiled wickedly at me. “I killed him. The fool had it coming.”

The strength in my arms sapped as I stopped prying at his hands. I could only stare back in horror.

“…what?”

He was lying. I was told that my father died an honorable death—defending the townsfolk from a pirate invasion. This officer had to be lying. I had no reason to believe him. He was a lying, dishonorable cur through and through. He was goading me. Inciting rage.

But why? Why did he stare at me with those hateful eyes, filled with malice and the certainty that he did, in fact, murder my father?

“You—you bastard,” I managed out unevenly. My vision blurred as something warm rolled down my face. Something stirred within me—a rage boiled from the very depths of my heart.

Before I knew it, I ripped the musket from my blouse, string and fabric fluttering in the air. The officer took a step back, bewildered by my forcefulness. I couldn’t think properly, only blinded by pure anger I never knew laid dormant inside me.

He hastily fired a shot but missed. The bullet lodged itself into the door behind me. I grabbed the blade from the ground and charged at him while tears rolled fresh down my face.

For tonight, I was not a killer. Only an agent of retribution.

He sidestepped my attack and swung the musket. I held up my right arm up and shielded myself from the blow. My arm screamed from pain when the musket collided, but I cared not. The man brought his weapon back and swung again—this time, in a wide arc.

I moved back but found myself cornered at the priory entrance.

He grinned, several feet away, and positioned the weapon over his shoulder, poised to fire.

By the time I threw the blade, he would have pulled the trigger. But if I hit his hand, his aim would falter, and I could escape. It was risky, but I was already a dead woman.

I accepted that I had no fate in the morning.

So I prayed. I prayed wherever I ended up, I hoped my father would forgive me for hurting another person.

The shot fired, and I fully expected to die. But the officer dropped his weapon and knelt.

“Arggh!”

From what I saw, his white pant leg was dyed crimson. I squinted and saw another figure in the dark, not too far from where we stood, brandishing his own gun.

“You’ve harassed the lass long enough.”

My savior stepped forward, but it was difficult to tell who he was. He donned an eyepatch and was dressed in dark colors.

Under the moonless sky, I sensed that he was familiar.

Before thanking my savior, I turned to the officer on the ground. I took quick, short steps to the man. He groaned in pain and tried to reach for his weapon as I approached.

I kicked the musket far from his reach and before I knew it, I tackled him to the ground and hit him in the face. He cursed at me and called me derogatory names. No matter how many times he called me a bitch, wretch, or whore I hit him as hard as I could.

“I hope you rot in hell!” I screamed, as tears flowed freely down my face. “You took my father from me. You ruined my town. You smeared the name of navy officers and destroyed the foundation of justice and truth I believed in…! You…you’re nothing but…!”

The man below me continued to swear but stopped resisting. Finally, I dropped my hands. I huffed and glared at him, feeling exhaustion overtaking me. As I glanced at my knuckles, blood coated them.

“Kill me, why don’t you…? If it eases your pain.” He mocked, blood running down his nose. He spat out blood beside him and appeared smug. “Another will take my place even if you kill me. So do it, little lady. Do it because by tomorrow morning, you’ll be killed.”

I suddenly remembered my blade.

Wildly, I grabbed for it. Why did I ever set it down?

My emotions were strung high, scattered between grief, animosity, and rage. It was difficult to think clearly. But this man, this pathetic, rotten excuse of an official—I loathed him. I loathed him with every fiber of my being. I bristled with ferocity when I remembered the other corrupted officials who abandoned their duty and sunk deep into wickedness.

I held the blade above my head. Time slowed. The officer below me only grinned. He welcomed it. He embraced death by my hands.

I could kill him. Kill him and avenge my father. Kill him, kill him, kill him, the voice echoed in my head. Tomorrow didn’t exist. Only in this moment did I have the chance to end his life like he ended my father’s.

But the hand that held the blade trembled. It wouldn’t budge.

Tears streamed down my face as I gazed at the man. He looked pitiful, bruised and reduced to a bloody pulp. He returned my stare. Do it, his eyes urged. Put me out of my misery.

Just then, a hand closed over my knuckles.

I glanced over my shoulder while his hand still clasped mine.

“That’s enough, lass.” My savior’s voice was quiet, soothing.

He wore a long, ruddy colored coat lined with gold buttons. It looked luxurious and sturdy, so much more than I could ever afford. Suddenly, I forgot about the officer below me and realized my tattered attire. I held a hand to my chest to preserve what dignity I had left. My savior turned his eye away from mine and glanced at the bloodied officer instead.

“He won’t harm you anymore. Not in that state.”

I lowered my blade and numbly nodded my head.

My savior helped me to my feet and guided me away from the officer. The officer let out another string of curses, but he grew quiet as we left the priory.

I slid the blade back into my boot and secured it in its hidden sheath.

The man with the eyepatch led me somewhere quiet, and to where—I knew not. He spoke in a soothing tone, calming me from my grief-stricken state. Whatever he said, it was lost on me. I was glad that he spoke, speaking about nonsense to distract me from my dark thoughts.

He seemed very kind despite his sharp gaze. The man then offered me a tin flask and I realized it contained alcohol. Seldom did I touch alcohol, but I needed something to assuage my nerves. I drank it eagerly but slowed once the bitter flavor scorched down my throat. I coughed and wiped my mouth before handing back the flask.

He pocketed it and continued.

For a while, we walked in companionable silence. Nobody milled about, as many were fearful of the night patrols by the navy. But knowing the officers, they were most likely at bars or red districts.

The cool air dried my tears, but my nose was colored red. I held my blouse close to my chest to preserve my modesty, but my right shoulder had a gaping hole. Frills and loose thread dangled everywhere, and if I had the materials, I would mend it later.

My thoughts whirled around as we walked, further from the light of the central district. The navy would hunt me down. Those living at the priory would have to leave. My town was already in shambles. And where was I supposed to go?

I looked ahead, seeing my savior’s back. I didn’t have a good look at his face, but he seemed oddly familiar. We never met in person, but I have seen him somewhere before. Perhaps in passing?

“Sir,” I quivered out. I was unsure if he heard me. He kept walking. “May I know your name? And, um, thank you.” I let out a shaky sigh. “For helping me. I am grateful.”

He paused so abruptly that I collided with his back.

“You’re welcome.”

I didn’t press further for his name, as I realized I haven’t introduced myself either. I found myself staring at his back as he continued walking. He had broad shoulders and moved with a confident stride.

I wonder why he saved me. Did he have his own motive? Or was it out of selflessness?

I halted.

He noticed I was no longer following him due to the absence of footfalls. He partly turned, craning his neck to look at me.

“What’re you doing, lass?” He sounded impatient. “If you don’t come along, they’ll find you.”

“Where are we going?” I asked quietly. My fingers gripped the fabric of my shirt. “At least tell me where we’re going. You have my gratitude, but you don’t fully have my trust.”

“You followed me this far and now you want an explanation?” He ran a hand through his dark hair, exasperated. “Talk about priorities. Fine—I’ll explain along the way. But first, we need to get you out of this town. You know they’ll be looking for you in the morning.”

“I know.” I began to walk again, following him. He moved, but with a sense of urgency this time. “They’ll have a bounty for my head soon. That much I’m aware.”

His strides were longer and faster than mines. I struggled to keep up.

“At the very least, my crew can drop you off at another port. You can start anew there,” he said this with finality, with no room for argument. “It’ll be difficult, but I believe you can manage. You have tenacity from what I’ve seen.”

I grew quiet again. Tears brimmed in my eyes as I thought about the events from earlier. My body ached, especially my right arm and collarbone. While I failed to see tomorrow, he was already planning my next course of action as if he was familiar with this life. Whatever this life meant. Things were moving too fast, but it was impossible to fight the pull of time. But how could he be so levelheaded in this situation? It was too much to handle. Some things sunk in, but other things didn’t.

I tipped my head back and looked up at the sky.

Above us, a few seagulls cawed and glided through the oil slick night. Stars shimmered, as if offering hope. What will tomorrow bring? I thought. What port town awaits me? As the man strode onwards, I spoke again.

“My name is Mina.” I fiddled with the loose threads of my blouse. With my free hand, I brushed the tears away. “My father was a virtuous naval officer, unlike those you just saw. And, um, my mother—she was a dancer. Both my parents died, so the priory took me in. I tried to stop the officers from taxing what little we have.”

He was quiet as he listened to my story. After a respectful pause, he spoke. “Eduardo. Just Eduardo is fine, lass. I don’t care much for formalities.”

“Ah.” I said flatly. “Eduardo. As in…Sirius?”

The name registered, but my reaction was mild. I was emotionally and physically exhausted from the events before and wasn’t as shocked as I thought I would be. Normally, fear would have gripped me, but I felt hollow. Today was already a strange day, only making room for stranger events and stranger people.

“I’ve heard the awful rumors, but I can’t believe them. Not after today because you saved my life.” I shook my head and laughed weakly. Eduardo looked at me as if I lost a few screws. Of course, there was nothing to laugh about. But I found it absurd all the same.

“You’re a member of the Sirius crew,” I mumbled, trying to make sense of everything, “pirates have saved me from the navy. Who would have thought? But isn’t the navy supposed to protect its citizens? So why—” I balled my fists, my voice rising out of confusion and anger— “why were they abusing their authority and burdening the townsfolk? Why do they exploit the weak and tax the church? Aren’t they supposed to protect? To uphold the law? Then why, why did they abandon their duty? To whom am I supposed to turn to when I need justice?”

I was frustrated beyond measure. It didn’t make sense. Officers were supposed to be paragons of goodness. Pirates were supposed to be bad. But reality was never that simple.

My tears were relentless. Every being of my body shook as I thought of my father—the only good man among the corrupted. There had to be others, but they were so little and few in between.

“All my life, I grew up believing the navy officers were good men. But now I could see that I was blind. I fooled myself, making excuses whenever the officers committed any wrongdoings. I was blind, wasn’t I? So willfully ignorant. I looked away because I didn’t want to believe it. But no,” I spat out bitterly, my vision blurring. “Not anymore. I won’t make up excuses for them any longer. I won’t turn away. And to think…to think that the infamous Sirius pirates would save me instead. I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

“Then don’t,” Eduardo murmured quietly. “Your whole belief system built over the years just shattered in an instant. Anyone would breakdown.”

“So what do I do now?”

My legs gave out and my knees hit the ground. I pounded the ground with my balled-up fist. Desperation overwhelmed me as I tried to search for an answer. Anything to guide me in the right direction. Anything to latch onto, knowing what I believed in, has betrayed me.

I would have to start anew—a new name, new town, a fresh start. But what about everything I’ve known here? This measly port town was the only one I knew. I knew nothing of the world beyond where my feet could take me. I didn’t even say goodbye to the ones I loved and cared for at the priory.

“How am I supposed to forget this?” I sobbed, cradling my injured hand to my chest. “This is the only life I’ve known. I can’t leave it behind so easily.”

He didn’t look at me, only up at the sky. “Some turn to religion for comfort. Some learn to move on. As for you,” he fully turned, his coat billowed in the wind as he faced me. “That’s up to you to figure out, lass. But at the very least—”

With the backdrop of stars and an air of solemnity surrounding him, Eduardo knelt in front of me.

“Come with me, Mina,” he said calmly. I couldn’t help but believe in his words like scripture. “I can guarantee your safety.”

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psychicpuppyarcadeagain · 10 months

Text

Stones.

(Original Snow Daughter oc fic)

Word count: 1,007

Summary: Caroline Snow, the first child and first daughter of Coriolanus Snow and Livia Cardew- was a loved person. The capitol adored her, every boy looked her way, and every girl wanted to be her.

The "Snowflake of the Capitol" they called her.

Until she got into an accident, a stupid accident. How tragic to have all of your bones crushed by a building, caving in on itself and much too old. The Capitol grieved her for a week and then found another snowflake, a new girl to faun over.

However, what they did not know was that Caroline Snow was completely fine.

______________________________________

Caroline Snow, the first child and first daughter of Coriolanus Snow and Livia Cardew- was a loved person. The capitol adored her, every boy looked her way, and every girl wanted to be her.

The "Snowflake of the Capitol" they called her.

Until she got into an accident, a stupid accident. How tragic to have all of your bones crushed by a building, caving in on itself and much too old. The capitol grieved her for a week and then found another snowflake, a new girl to faun over.

"How tragic that the Snows must endure this loss"

However, what they did not know was that Caroline Snow was completely fine.

Well, not completely, but every bone in her body was intact, and her chest still had a rise and fall.

She sits now on the dirty ground of the hob with the other peacekeepers, trading stories outside of that cramped military camp.

Coriolanus Snow, that wretched man, wanted to make a point. If she was going to be ungrateful for what she had and complain about how he ran the games, then he would show her just how grateful she should be.

A simple suggestion that maybe the games were too harsh, and now she was forced to a military camp in District 12.

How easy it was for him to get rid of his own daughter was the only thing that haunted her at night.

Everything here smells of coal and dirt, every child with hollowed cheeks and exposed ribs.

She is lucky that the peacekeepers get meals. Otherwise, she would look just as bad as those children, how unfortunate that their parents would let them get that way.

"The people in the districts would prefer it rain blood than water, that's what they really want to drink."

Her father would say. And the longer she stayed, the more she believed it.

These men, the other peacekeepers, and the few women that served as well were dogs. They spent their off days fighting and scrapping for alcohol, sleeping with the very people they were put up to shoot to death if things went tipsy.

Drowning out the sounds of the voices around her, Caroline found herself graining at the dirt between her fingers. How nice it would be, to smell like her favorite perfume and attend a capitol party right now.

Her father was right. She was more grateful for what she had now. She just wishes he'd picked a less permanent punishment.

One that wouldn't keep her from showing her face in the capitol ever again.

"What do you think, Snowy?"

Says the boy with the shaved head. They all have shaved heads, actually, and they all call me Snowy. I think they think I'm their friend or that maybe it makes me angry.

It does, but I'd never let them know that.

"I think you all need to shut up and help pitch in to trade for some white liquor."

I give them my charming smile, the one Father taught me to use on people to get what I wanted. They all whoop and excite over the prospect of alcohol even though they already reek of it.

I wish I could feel empathy for their situations, but I could not even feel that for the people in the capitol. Why would I feel it for these... I come up short on what to call them.

The word peacekeepers already feels like an insult the way the citizens throw it at us, so I just stick with that.

____

We drink until we can't feel anymore, not that I was sure I could before.

Insulting these people for their alcoholism seems to have bit back at me because I fear they have turned me into an alcoholic just as bad.

It is the only thing in District 12 that gives me a rush anymore, except for when we pull out our guns.

So far, no one has needed to be shot, but the blood rushes to my ears whenever it gets close. I've never killed anyone, not directly, and the boys make fun of me for it. As if I missed all the action by coming by late in the year.

White liquor is the type of liquor that makes you forget your name, and where you came from. But I swear it's nothing I can forget.

Even if I lose my balance, and forget how to walk I know that the last name Snow will be branded into my circuits until they snap and explode. And even after, it is how I'll be labeled.

I was happy to be a Snow until I wasn't.

Until being a Snow meant being sent off into the districts to become... whatever I am becoming.

I'm better than this. I'm much smarter than any of the people who came here from other districts.

But my father insists on wasting my life here. The life that he made, only to amount to nothing he prepared me for.

White liquor also makes me emotional, so maybe I'm thinking about my father too much.

"I'm already not excited to get up tomorrow"

He slurs the words from where he lays beside me in a heap. He always huddles in on himself when he drinks like it's eating him from the inside.

"I wouldn't have been excited either way"

My slur sounds so familiar to his that I fear I am becoming one of them. They even laugh at my joke like they would a friend's.

I hate these mutts.

Maybe the games aren't so bad.

"Fair"

He groans it into the dirt. Getting his face all dirty, more dirty than it was before at least.

I lean against the wall of the building we've propped ourselves up on. We should probably start heading back to base soon so we can get some rest but the liquor sets my bones to stone. As if maybe that building had crushed me.

Just stones, I thought

If only I was actually just stones.

______________________________________

Hope you liked that!! My asks are open for anything related to Caroline or really just Coriolanus in general. Hope this isn't too cringe lol I tried to keep to hunger games lore best I could but I'm tired and there's so much to remember and like.. idk it's a silly oc fic so I hope it goes under the radar if there is anything 💗

#oc #original character #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #the hunger games #hunger games oc

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oreozfox · 2 years

Text

The Four Horsemen, a Group Chat - Part One

Finally did it. Might post it to Ao3 too. btw Sal and Ash's weird flirting was inspired by this post by the lovely @beholdthemem , and the mentioned character Gloria is an OC belonging to the lovely @generalhumancroissantmuffin !

Sal created ‘The Four Horsemen’.

Sal added Larry, Ash, and Todd.

Sal: Who took my chips

Larry: which bag, of the dozen tiny bags of chips you possess

Sal: How did you know

Sal: It was you wasn’t it

Larry: no

Sal: suspicious

Sal: if you won’t fess up I’m sure the other two mystery solvers here can rat you out

Larry: aka you’ll go crying to Ash

Sal: not true!!

Sal: if i’m gonna go crying to someone about anything it’s gonna be Neil

Sal: Neil's the cry-to guy

Larry: okay fair

Larry: FINE it was me

Larry: I was hungry and I knew you were like

Larry: the chip king

Sal: Okay it’s cool

Larry: bruh what is that change in mood

Sal: you called me chip king ^^

Sal: I like my new nickname

Todd: Behold, Sal Fisher, who is as easy to please as a four-year-old.

Larry: Sal I also uh

Larry: took one to give to Gloria

Sal: did you tell her you stole it from me

Larry: no way man she wouldn’t have taken it if I did

Todd: And Larry Johnson, who has the flirting skills of a second grader.

Todd: You gave her stolen chips? Really?

Ash: oh like you’re any better

Todd: Shut uuuuup.

Sal: Hi Ash

Ash: Hi Sally Face! ^^

Larry: ofc she joins the convo to be snarky

Ash: but what else am I here for?

Sal: I’m just happy the gang’s all here

Larry: *I’m just happy Ash is here

Sal: wha

Todd: *So we can perform the weirdest flirting Todd Morrison has ever seen

Sal: no

Ash: okay maybe

Ash: how can I not when Sal’s the light of my liiiife

Ash: aintcha darlin?

Sal: of course.

Sal: I’d be utterly lost in this wretched world without you

Todd: BLUGH

Larry: DOUBLE BLUGH

Larry: I can hear Sal laughing rn

Todd: That would make sense if you’re in the same room.

Larry: we’re not, Sal’s in my room and I’m eating cheese

Todd: Why are you eating cheese again?

Sal: Because dinner’s going to be like 15min late and he’s being a baby

Sal: so he’s sneaking food

Todd: You’ll spoil your appetite, Larry.

Larry: yOu’Ll SpOiL yOuR aPpEtTiTe, LaRry

Todd: Very mature.

Larry: thanks

Larry: also Sal I COULD get you smth too

Sal: Yeah you owe me for the chips

Larry: oh right

Larry: be right there then

#sally face #sal fisher #larry johnson #todd morrison #ashley campbell #salash #larry johnson x oc #larry x oc #chat fic #oreo crunches #oreo writes #sal x ash

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nayutai · 4 years

Text

The Task At Hand

Pairing Mingyu x Female OC

Word Count 15.1k

Warnings mentions of infidelity, mentions of racism, foul language, anxiety, insecurities, therapy sessions, dumbasses in love, light choking, dry humping

Summary The first year of marriage is always the hardest. Unfortunately for Mingyu and Kamile, the first year as husband and wife may also be their last.

Notes This absolute behemoth of a fic is my contribution to The Intimacy Anthology where I, along with many other fantastic writers, have explored intimacy in all of its many forms. This fic is incredibly close to my heart and I hope that you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please check out the other stories featured in the project here as well!

Mingyu fumbles with his keys in the dark as he searches for the one that’ll get him into his house. The alcohol coursing through his system is making this very simple task a lot harder than it needs to be. He shouts victoriously when he finally manages to unlock the front door to stumble inside. He freezes when he hears someone clapping slowly off to his right.

“Two minutes and forty seven seconds. That didn’t take you as long as I thought it would but then again you have been good at finishing quickly these days.” Mingyu groans deep in his throat at the scathing words from the woman staring him down from the love seat in the living room. She lifts a glass of what he can only assume is white wine to her lips, draining it quickly.

“I’m too drunk for your bullshit tonight, Kamile.” Mingyu grunts as he leans back against the door to steady himself while he toes his sneakers off. All he wants to do is crawl up the stairs to the guest room he’s been sleeping in so that he can go to sleep. He rolls his eyes when he hears Kamile clear her throat from across the room. If he knows anything about his wife, nothing good is about to come out of her mouth.

“If you didn’t want to hear my bullshit then maybe you should’ve shown up for dinner with my parents tonight.” The venom in her voice makes Mingyu’s blood run cold. He’d totally forgotten about her mother’s birthday dinner tonight. Fuck. As much as he hates to hear her nagging him, even he has to admit that he deserves it this time. This dinner has been planned for months and he should’ve been there.

He forces his eyes to focus when he looks back over at the brooding woman shooting daggers at him from across the room. It’s then he registers the fact that she’s still fully dressed despite the late hour. Kamile is a huge proponent of being comfortable within the walls of her own home and for her to sit in a dress and heels as she waits on his appearance does not bode well for him in the slightest. He’s surprised that she hasn’t launched her wine glass at his head.

“Whatever or whoever you were out doing,” Kamile rises slowly from the couch, impressively steady in her heels despite the bottle of wine she ran through waiting on her neglectful husband to come home. Silence stretches between them interrupted only by the damning clicks of her shoes against the hardwood flooring. Kamile stops to appraise the man she married when she reaches him, wondering where it all went wrong.

“…I hope it was worth it.” She silences his groveling with a raised hand. She’s tired of the arguing. Tired of the excuses. Just tired in general.

Most people would have some sort of emotional response to this but her exhaustion leaves nothing but an empty void in its wake. Mingyu may as well be yelling at a brick wall for all the response he gets from Kamile as she slowly climbs the stairs. The sound of the bedroom door clicking shut echoing around the house may as well have been a gunshot.

“One more thing for her to hold over my fucking head.” Mingyu grumbles as he slowly blazes his own trail up the stairs. He pauses before the closed door to the bedroom they once shared, hand gripping the doorknob in his hand as he contemplates going in to apologize. “What’s the use? Not like she’d listen to me now anyway.”

The bed in the guest room welcomes him like an old friend when he flops down on it, draining him of his energy. Thoughts of how he’ll fix things in the morning drift through his head. Sleep evens out his features, lulling him into a peaceful slumber despite the fact that he’s still fully clothed. The perfect cover for the plans being set in motion right down the hall.

The sun rouses Mingyu from his sleep way before he’s ready. He could’ve sworn that the curtains were pulled closed when he went to bed but it’s hard to know what’s what when you’re three sheets to the wind at god only knows what time. Blindly, he reaches out for his phone where he’d left it on the nightstand but comes up with a piece of paper instead. It takes a minute for his eyes to focus enough to read the words on the page, but when they do he finds himself bolting for the ensuite bathroom. The offensive piece of stationary gently drifting to the ground as if it hasn’t just ruined his life.

He heaves and wretches until he has nothing left to give. His knees buckle several times as he tries to brush his teeth which is an incredibly difficult task to complete when one is sobbing with everything they have. This can’t be happening. He refuses to believe that this is his reality. Mingyu’s heart sinks even lower when he drags himself back to the bedroom and sees Kamile’s wedding ring on the night stand next to his phone. He retrieves the letter from where it rests on the floor, reading it over until the tears he’d fought back make a reappearance.

Doing this feels incredibly impersonal but I feel like it’s probably better this way. I realized that the flame I thought would burn forever is barely a spark anymore. Tonight was an epiphany for me. I realize that I deserve better and I’ve decided that I will have it. I’ve always wished you joy and light and I will probably never stop doing that despite everything that’s happened but I can’t do it as your wife anymore.

Take care,

Kamile Dexter

The usage of her maiden name feels like the final nail in his coffin. He calls. He texts. He emails. He even sends her a message on instagram. Every single attempt to reach her goes unanswered. Anyone could see that things hadn’t been the best between them for a while, but never in his most horrific nightmares did Mingyu think that Kamile would actually leave.

Time is irrelevant to Mingyu in the days that follow Kamile’s departure. He wakes up when his alarm goes off and drifts through the day. His nights are spent calling Kamile despite the fact that she never answers which then leads to him drinking himself into an alcohol-induced sleep complete with all the blessed numbness that it provides until his alarm goes off once more. This is without a doubt the lowest point of his life and he doesn’t know how to fix it. Kamile grew up with Vernon so naturally Mingyu tries to enlist his help. Unfortunately, it seems that she has anticipated that move and stops answering Vernon’s calls and texts as well.

With all of his other options seemingly exhausted, Mingyu calls the one person that could possibly help him, Sidra Dexter. A woman with many accolades to her name, Sidra considers being Kamile’s mother to be the most important among them. If anyone knows how to get through to his wife, it’s Sidra. Mingyu prays that she still has a soft spot for him as the phone rings in his ear. If this call goes unanswered, then he really will lose all hope in saving his marriage.

“It’s about damn time you called me, Gyu Bear. My daughter left you a whole week ago tomorrow and you’re just now enlisting my services? Tell me why that is.” Never a woman to beat around the bush, Sidra gets right to the point with the accuracy of a heat-seeking missile.

“I don’t know what to do, Mama Dee. She won’t talk to me.” Mingyu whines, on the verge of tears for the umpteenth time today.

“Of course she won’t. She’s stubborn just like her ornery ass father.” The aforementioned father pipes up in the background to defend himself but is quickly shut down. “Now back to you, Gyu Bear. You have messed up big time but I love you so I’m going to help you fix it but I have one question first.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Did you cheat on my daughter? And yes that ‘harmless flirting’ shit you men folk like to do counts as cheating in my book.”

“Of course not! Wait…does Kam think I cheated?” Mingyu is floored and honestly a little angered at the fact that after all these years together Kamile thinks he’s actually capable of infidelity. The alcohol-induced haze clears long enough for his brain to recall a comment she’d made the night she left about whoever he was doing being worth it.

“She sure does,” Sidra starts up, “but luckily for you, my gut says that you’re telling the truth and it hasn’t steered me wrong in the last 56 years so I don’t see a reason not to trust it now. So here’s what we’re going to do.”

Mingyu listens intently as Sidra outlines her master plan. Not for the first time, he’s in awe of the way her brain functions. The tightness in his chest subsides a little bit with every word she says. For the first time in the six days since Kamile left, Mingyu feels like his life has meaning again. His marriage might not be over after all.

Despite the fact that Kamile had no intention of answering any of Mingyu’s desperate pleas for attention, the sudden cessation of said pleas only serve to further increase her anguish. She’d originally thought she’d be able to finally find peace when he gave up, but that does not seem to be the case. A part of her didn’t want him to stop trying. Didn’t want him to stop fighting for her.

Did I make the right choice?

The question has haunted her every waking moment as she adjusts to her new normal. She’s been adrift for the last ten days trying to figure out her next plan of action. Should she stay in Korea? Should she go back to America? Should she throw a dart at a map and go wherever it lands? The possibilities are endless but Kamile finds herself unable to fully commit to either option which is how she’s ending up existing on takeout in a hotel for the past week and some change. God, why did she have to be so impulsive? She should’ve made sure that she had a game plan before she just up and left like that.

Her phone rings on the small night stand, interrupting her self-loathing thoughts. Kamile groans when she sees that it’s her mother. Ever since she’d broken the news to her parents that she’d decided to leave Mingyu, her mom has been giving her grief. Kamile had always had a hunch that her mom loved Mingyu just as much if not more than she loved her, but their break up has made her think that her hunch had been closer to the truth than she’d previously thought.

“Hey, ma.” Kamile greets her mother apprehensively, bracing for the latest round of her mother’s reconciliation efforts.

“Hello, my lovely daughter. I just landed in Seoul so if you don’t mind coming to get me from the airport that would be great.” Kamile chokes on the mouthful of noodles she’d been munching on. There’s no way in hell that her mother just said that she’s in Seoul. Sure enough, Kamile pulls her phone away from her ear to check her mother’s location and it says that she is in fact at the Incheon Airport.

“Baby, what did I tell you about making sure you properly chew your food before swallowing. Did you forget what happened to your Uncle Tommy?” Kamile barely hears her mother’s recounting about the uncle who’d died from choking on a fish bone as she rushes around her hotel room gathering her things. She can’t believe her mom really flew halfway across the globe. Thankfully, her hotel isn’t far from the airport so Kamile is helping her mother put her bags in the back of her SUV in no time at all.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you or anything, but what are you doing here?” Kamile questions as she eases her car into the steady stream of traffic bound for the exit.

“You just left your husband and you didn’t come home to me so I don’t know what made you think that I wasn’t coming out here. A friend of mine is letting me stay with her since I know how you are about your space.”

Kamile is more than a little thankful for that. Her mother can be overbearing when she’s on a mission and the fact that she’ll still be able to maintain some personal space is comforting. She’s only too happy to let the gps in her guide her to this friend’s house. The closer they get to their destination though the more unsettled she becomes. She has no idea why her gut is telling her to be suspicious, but she’s definitely not about to ignore it. Kamile’s sense are on high alert when she turns into the driveway of a nondescript home in one of the more affluent suburbs of the city.

“Mom, what’s this friend’s name?” Kamile eyes the structure in front of her as if it could possibly grow teeth and bite her. Something is not right here and if there’s one thing her mother taught her, it’s to trust her gut instinct and right now her gut is telling her to throw her car in reverse and get the hell out of dodge. The only thing keeping her from running for the hills is the fact her mother seems so at ease as she hops out of the car to grab her bags.

“Her name is Bae Yeojin. She studied abroad at Villanova her junior year and we were roommates. She’s got a pretty successful business now.” Kamile hums in acknowledgement. She vaguely recalls her mom telling her about a girl named Yeojin from college, but that does nothing to assuage the uneasiness in her gut.

Kamile waits at the bottom of the steps as her mother knocks on the front door. Her fingers are drumming on banister, eyes glancing back and forth from the ornate door and her car. She clutches her keys like a lifeline. At the slightest provocation, she’s ready to bolt. The two women squeal like school children and not the established professionals they are at the first sight of each other. Kamile wonders briefly how long it’s been since they last saw each other.

“Kamile Danielle Kim get your ass up here and say hi.” Not one to disobey a direct order, especially one accompanied by her full name, Kamile reluctantly climbs the short staircase.

“Jesus, Sid, you really spit this one right out. She’s practically your twin.” Yeojin exclaims. She pulls Kamile into a quick hug before ushering the both of them inside.

One deep breath and Kamile instantly realizes why she felt so uneasy. There’s candles burning in the foyer, but they do nothing to mask the familiar scent she’s spent the last six years smelling. Mingyu is in this house somewhere. She spins around to fix the two women with what she hopes is a threatening glare. Unfortunately, neither one of them appears to be phased by it in the slightest.

“What the hell is going on here?” Kamile’s quickly starting to realize that not trusting her gut has landed her in a situation she most definitely has no interest being in. Her eyes quickly dart back and forth between the two scam artists in front of her.

“I told you she’d figure it out. Pay up.” Yeojin doesn’t take her eyes off Kamile as she holds her hand out to Sidra who is grumbling while she digs in her purse to hand over a few bills.

“Dammit, Kam, did I really raise you to be this observant? You’re costing me money.”

“Yes, now what in the fresh hell do y’all have going on?” The answer to her question comes in the form of timid footsteps sounding off behind her. Her spine stiffens. She doesn’t have to turn around to know who it is. She can sense him. “Fuck this. I’m leaving.”

“No, you’re not. Now turn your little narrow butt around and have a seat.” Sidra adopts the tone she’d frequently used when Kamile was growing up and even now as an adult Kamile knows that disobeying this direct order is not the right choice to make.

It’s with a grimace, that she pivots on her heel to face her husband for the first time since she walked out on him. The satisfaction she feels when she sees just how awful he looks is cancelled out by the fact that she probably looks just as bad. It would be a lie to say that she hasn’t missed the comfort and solace his presence used to bring her. That she doesn’t want to let the outside world fade away as she hides away in his embrace. She wants that back. Craves it even, but enough is enough.

Curse words flow like running water through Kamile’s mind as her mother situates her on a love seat in the living room with Mingyu sat right next to her. His large frame dwarfs the slightly undersized piece of furniture. She can feel the body heat radiating off of him and it’s a battle of wills to keep from leaning into him.

“First things first…” Sidra claps her hands as she and Yeojin take a seat on the sofa opposite the troubled couple, “I think now is a good time to mention that Ms. Yeojin here is actually a therapist who specializes in couples therapy.”

Of course she is.

Kamile rolls her eyes as the puzzle pieces start clicking into place. She could be buried under her blankets, binging on The Golden Girls right now, but no, her meddling ass mother has scammed her into marriage counseling instead. She should’ve ran when she had the chance.

“Based on what Sid has told me, the two of you are exactly one week shy of your first wedding anniversary and already on the verge of divorce. So, who would like to dump their emotional baggage on the floor first?” Yeojin glances between Kamile and Mingyu looking for a crack in their demeanor that she can exploit. Mingyu looks like he wants to hurl while Kamile’s face is a carefully constructed mask of indifference. She makes her choice easily.

“Mingyu, thank you for volunteering. Let’s hear it.”

Put on the spot, Mingyu chances a glance sideways at Kamile before clearing his throat. Yeojin sits at the ready with her notebook and pen. She listens intently as Mingyu tells the fiasco as he sees it.

“I know I forget things sometimes. I try not to, but I’m an idol. I have a lot going on but that’s no different from when we first started dating so I don’t know why it’s suddenly such a big issue now.” Mingyu seems to find his voice as he speaks up on how he believes that he’s been wronged. The timid nervousness he’d felt before quickly getting pushed down so that his frustration can take over.

“When we first started dating, I wasn’t being abandoned in a house all day with nothing to do.” Kamile may have been grumbling under her breath but Mingyu hears her loud and clear. His head whips around so fas that the two mothers across from him silently worry about the neck pain that may cause him later.

“You have nothing to do because you’ve turned down every opportunity that’s come your way.” Thoughts of the numerous job and consulting offers from Pledis and other entertainment companies like them that she turned down come flying to the forefront of his memory. Human resource agents have practically been beating down their door for the chance to work with Kamile, a creative visionary in her own right, but she’s rejected them one after another without a moment’s hesitation.

“You mean every opportunity that you have sent my way. Like why would I want to work at that entertainment company and be forced to watch that bitch Miyeon flirt with you every day like you’re not married?” Mingyu is forced to concede to her point with that one. Miyeon is one of the stylists at the company and, despite his repeated rejection, is too flirtatious for his liking as well. Unfortunately, she’s deeply entrenched in the corporate hierarchy and nothing short of murder would make the higher ups get rid of her even if all of the members have lodged complaints against her.

“Is that the simple hoe you come home smelling like every time you’re ‘out with the boys’?” Kamile adds on as if she’s finally started connecting some dots in her overactive imagination. The fact that she has even entertained the thought of Mingyu not only cheating on her but cheating on her with Miyeon of all people makes his blood boil.

“Why do you think I’m cheating on you? Why do you always just assume the worst about me? Do you think Vernon would ever let me even think about cheating on you? The man hates violence but he would beat my ass over you and we all know that.” The frown on Kamile’s face falters at the mention of her oldest friend. Mingyu is correct in saying that he would absolutely fight him, but there are still some thing that aren’t adding up. Yeojin attempts to halt the conversation so that they can delve deeper into what Mingyu just said but Kamile beats her to the punch.

“You come home smelling like warm vanilla sugar every night when everybody knows that I am a Japanese cherry blossom supremacist. What am I supposed to think, Mingyu?” She can’t believe that he has the audacity to sit next to her and still lie. The palms of her hands itch with the urge to throw things but she’s done enough of that plus this isn’t exactly her house either.

“Seokmin always sprays us down with some random perfume because he says it keeps the women away and honestly, it actually works like a charm so I’m always first in line to get sprayed.” Kamile’s anger deflates almost immediately. To anyone that doesn’t know Lee Seokmin that would sound like a crock of shit, but it’s perfectly on brand for him.

“Well, how was I supposed to know that?”

“We’re fucking married, Kamile. You could’ve just asked. Better yet you could have come with me to these events like I’ve asked you to do a million times.”

“You know I hate those things.”

“Everyone hates them, but I would hate them a lot less if I had you there with me. I just feel like I’ve been trying to make an effort but you’re not meeting me halfway.”

“I knew my Gyu Bear wasn’t a cheater!” Sidra, who hasn’t set a word since things had started to get heated, pipes up.

“God, Mom could you at least pretend that you love me more than him?” Kamile throws her hands up in frustration. Her mother’s obvious favoritism is really starting to get to her right now.

“Not until you start giving me less grief.”

“Now, now, Sid. Let’s not derail the progress we’re making here. Kamile, is there anything you’d like to bring to the table?” Yeojin pats her dear friend on the back of her hand to reign her back in. She’d hate to ruin the momentum they got going by having Kamile suddenly switch gears to argue with her mother.

Kamile is only too happy to tell her side of the story as she recounts the events of the night that she decided to leave Mingyu and how it was the tipping point for her. Yeojin listens intently, taking note of the fact that none of the issues that Kamile has with her husband are particularly heinous aside from the debunked cheating suspicions. Each transgression on it’s own wouldn’t be enough to end in divorce, but rather it’s the heaping pile of them that overwhelmed Kamile to the point that she felt she needed to get out.

The more she listens, the clearer it becomes to Yeojin that their marriage is suffering not because they don’t love one another but because they’ve forgotten how to talk to each other which has lead to an unfortunate disconnect. The biggest obstacle is definitely going to be Kamile’s determination to end things. She’s made up her mind and getting her to change her mind is not going to be easy.

“I think I’ve heard everything that I need to hear for today.” Yeojin sets her notepad down on her coffee table, relaxing in her chair a bit before she continues. “The first year in a marriage is usually the hardest, but that seems to have been exacerbated by the fact that the two of you have never lived together before now plus Kamile here has uprooted her entire life and moved to a new country.”

“Saving this marriage is going to take considerable effort on both sides in order to restore the balance you had before you said your vows. Here is what I recommend.”

Yeojin challenges the young couple to separate themselves from their daily lives for the next week and go somewhere remote. A place where it’s just the two of them without any outside influences. Of course, this won’t be just some run of the mill vacation. They’ll have “homework” of sorts that Yeojin will be checking to make sure they complete. Mingyu is all for it but Kamile is much more hesitant. All they’ve done is argue for the past few months and she’d rather not be stuck in a house arguing for two weeks straight.

“I’ve spent the past year stuck in a house with no outside influences and look at where that’s gotten me. On the verge of a fucking divorce!” Mingyu looks like he has something to say, but Yeojin thankfully stops him before he can rile his wife up any more than she already is.

“You’re not just going to be ‘stuck in a house’. Think of it like a game of Among Us. The two of you are crewmates and this wall that’s been built between you is the imposter.” Kamile looks at Yeojin as if she’s grown three extra heads. There’s no way she just related this counseling session to a freaking video game.

“I will also stop bugging you about grandkids for six months if you go.”

“You should’ve just started there. I’ll go.”

Yeojin claps her hands excitedly. She sounds way too happy to be shipping them off to self-guided marriage boot camp, but Kamile stays silent though that becomes increasingly difficult as her mother’s friends lists out the “tasks” she expects them to complete.

“So here’s the game plan, I want you two to be totally and completely honest with each other as much as possible for the entire time you’re gone. Often times in relationships, both parties will censor themselves as a way to keep the peace but that can be detrimental as it has been for you guys.” Mingyu and Kamile don’t realize it but they both frown simultaneously at the proposal of this honesty idea. Yeojin takes it as a positive sign that they are still in sync on some level.

“If the thought of doing it all day is too daunting, then start with just one hour. This doesn’t mean that you have to sit and stare at each other for a whole hour and trade statements just act normally but speak honestly. Okay so far?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Mingyu casts a glance in Kamile’s direction, fingers twitching with the urge to reach out to her. He’s had to stop himself several times since she arrived and it’s not getting any easier.

While Kamile’s mind is running wild with all of the potential for disaster that an hour of honesty could result in, Yeojin powers on with the rest of her required tasks. On top of separating themselves from society and this so called honest hour, Yeojin has mandated that they share at least one meal together every day with one of them being dinner on their wedding anniversary. Just when Kamile thought that Yeojin couldn’t possibly pile more on, she brings up the “activity days”. Each of them will have to plan some sort of activity for the two of them to do together while they’re away. It could be as big or as small as they want, but it has to be meaningful. Mingyu draws Kamile’s attention when he pulls his phone out of his back pocket to start tapping away on the screen like a mad man.

“You guys have a lot of preparing to do in order to be ready to leave tomorrow so we’ll stop here for today. I’ll be checking in on you daily to assess your progress and offer any guidance you may need.”

Kamile is out of her chair and halfway to the door before anyone can blink. The room suddenly feels too small as the gravity of what’s about to happen sinks in. She’d convinced herself that she no longer wanted to be married to Mingyu. She was so sure that her run as Mrs. Kim, albeit short as it was, had come to an end, but now she’s been confronted that her main reason for ending things was baseless. This is not how she thought things would go.

Day 1

The drive from the hotel to the home she’s shared with Mingyu for the past year goes way too quickly for Kamile’s liking. Mingyu had texted her about having to go gas up the rental car so he’s nowhere to be seen when Kamile arrives. She sits in the driveway for a few minutes thinking of the memories saturated into the home that looms before her. The memories she had hoped to create. A stray tear slips down her cheek and she swipes at it furiously. She swore that she was done shedding tears over this but they just keep on coming.

Her pity party is interrupted by an unfamiliar SUV pulling into the driveway behind her. Kamile looks in the mirror to see Mingyu getting out of the driver’s seat. She does her best to erase the evidence of her tears, but the look on his face when she opens her own door says that she wasn’t very successful.

“Are you-”

“I’m fine.” Kamile cuts him off before he can even finish his question. She stalks to the back of her car to start transferring her bags from her car to the behemoth of an SUV behind her.

“I’ll get them.” Mingyu takes the bag she’d already grabbed from Kamile’s hands, motioning to the passenger’s seat. Kamile, no longer in the mood to speak, wordlessly follows his directive and climbs into the SUV.

It takes Mingyu no time at all to load Kamile’s bags into the back with his own.

“Obviously this is a sign that we should just leave.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m not about to let a lost set of keys stand between me and keeping my marriage.”

“Why do you even care? Why are we even doing this?” Kamile screams. She’s been holding this in for far too long and she can’t take it anymore.

“For better or for worse.” Mingyu’s face is a mask of carefully controlled fury and it’s giving Kamile pause. She’s never seen him like this before. “We promised each other for better or for worse and yet you’re ready to run for the hills at the first sign of trouble. I’ll admit that I’m not perfect and certainly played a role in why we’re here but I’m willing to put in the work to make it better because those vows meant something to me. I thought they meant something to you too.”

Kamile is incredibly taken aback at Mingyu’s fervent desire to stay married. She didn’t think that he cared that much anymore. Without any further protest, she joins him in the hunt for the elusive key to the front door. Fifteen minutes pass and they are no closer to gaining entry than they were when they first arrived. A rep with the rental company calls as they’re checking the bottom of the flower pots that line the front porch and tells them that the keys were mistakenly put in the mailbox. The same mailbox that sits at the end of the mile long driveway. Kamile makes to get back in the car to drive to the end of the driveway but Mingyu suggests walking it.

“It would be faster in the car.”

“You heard that therapist lady. We’re supposed to be spending time together. What better way to do it than by walking two miles?” Kamile walks back and forth as she considers her options. She can resist which will probably lead to yet another fight or she can just suck it up and walk to the mailbox. With a groan, she makes her decision.

“Fine, but if I get tired you’re carrying me.”

“Anything for you, my lady.” He bows deeply which almost makes Kamile crack a smile. She steels her resolve quickly though and reminds herself not to get caught up in his antics. He’s going to have to do a lot more than make her laugh in order to get out of the dog house.

The walk to the mailbox and back is quiet for the most part. Their footfalls join the hum of the wildlife in the woods that line the driveway on either side, but the jokes and playful jabs that used to fill the air between them is noticeably absent. Neither one is sure of what to say or do around the other anymore. Thankfully, the key is hanging on a hook inside the rather large mailbox.

Mingyu fully expected for Kamile to ask to be carried on the way back. She’s never been a huge fan of physical activity so it doesn’t come as a surprised to him when she starts whining halfway back to the cabin.

“I can’t do it just leave me here with my flower friends. I’ll become one with the forest.” Mingyu wordlessly moves to crouch down in front of her. He’s thankful that she can’t see his face to save himself the embarrassment of having to explain why he’s so excited to carry her for the last half mile to the end of the driveway.

Kamile doesn’t hesitate a single second to climb onto his back, clinging to him like a koala. It’s not lost on either one of them that this is the most physical contact they’ve had with each other in months. She’s wrapped around him tight enough that he doesn’t need to support her thighs, but he does it anyway. No way in hell is going to let this moment pass by without taking full advantage.

They opt to spend the rest of the day just getting settled in. Yeojin had encouraged them to share a bedroom but Kamile is not down with that. Mingyu is disappointed when she wheels her suitcase into one of the guest bedrooms but he takes solace in the fact that she’s chosen the one right across the master where he’d dropped his things hoping she’d follow. He hopes that at some point in the next few days she’ll finally share a bed with him again.

Dinner ends up being Thai takeout. Kamile has to admit that she’s impressed when Mingyu is able to rattle off her usual order with practiced ease. There once was a time when they’d get Thai food together all the time, but they’re so far removed from that time that she was sure he’d have forgotten by now. They eat without a single word exchanged before going their separate ways to bed.

Day 2

Mingyu wakes up before the sun despite the fact that he slept all of two hours the night before. His hands are on the verge of trembling from all of the nervous energy coursing through his body. Today is the official first day of marriage bootcamp and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. It’s barely seven so there’s no way that Kamile has even attempted to get out of bed yet. Like a thief in the night, Mingyu creeps down the hall to peek into the bedroom that she had claimed as her own. A small smile graces his face at the cute way she hugs one of the throw pillows to her chest. It falters a little when his brain reminds him that she used to hug him close to her like that and not a pillow, but he shoves that depressing thought away for now. He has work to do.

The smell of bacon rouses Kamile from sleep, luring her down the stairs. She grunts a greeting at the man currently tending to a pan of scrambled eggs as she reaches for the stack of bacon on the counter to his left. Mingyu is quick to swat her hand away before she can secure her bounty.

“The eggs are almost done. Be patient.” Kamile whines at being chastised, scowling at the back of Mingyu’s head with disdain.

In the midst of her grumbling, she finally takes notice of his attire or the lack thereof. Saliva pools in her mouth at the sight of his muscles flexing as he cooks the eggs. Her gaze moves lower to his trim waist and the pair of gray sweatpants hanging from said waist in a way that has no business being as attractive as it is. Her fingers twitch with the urge to slide her hands beneath the waistband of those sweatpants to get at that prize she knows is there but she keeps them to herself.

“Earth to Kamile.” Mingyu chants as he waves a spatula in front of her face. She blinks rapidly, doing her best to clear the thick fog of arousal from her mind. The uncomfortable sensation of her panties sticking to her skin is quickly forgotten when Mingyu holds up a plate peeled high with bacon, eggs, and blueberry pancakes.

“Thanks, Gyu.” Kamile murmurs as she takes the proffered plate and heads for the table. She falters half a step when she realizes that she’s let his nickname slip. She prays that he didn’t notice and if he did, she prays he doesn’t say anything about it.

“Gyu? Haven’t heard that one in a while.” Looks like that prayer went unanswered. The shit eating grin on Mingyu’s face makes her itch.

“I’m hungry and thankful. Don’t push it.”

They eat in silence. The only sounds are their forks as they make contact with their plates. Mingyu is kicking himself in the ass for not saying anything but his brain is short circuiting. Thankfully, the buzzing from the intercom by the front door signaling that someone is at the front gate. It’s the special grocery delivery he’d requested for the first of their planned activity days.

“What’s all this for?” Kamile asks curiously. She pokes through a few of the bags to see fresh strawberries and a variety of other fruits along with a very large bag of rice cakes.

“I was thinking we could have a picnic today for our first planned activity.” His heart races as he waits for Kamile’s reaction to his idea. She munches on a piece of bacon as she continues to pull things out of bags.

“I dig it.” Mingyu feels weak with relief at his idea being well-received. “Why so many rice cakes though?”

“You’ve been a tteokbeokki fiend since we met. Didn’t see the point in depriving you while we’re here if I could just make it for you.” Kamile groans at the thought. She’s more than capable of feeding her own addiction with the spicy rice cake dish, but she’s never been able to make it as good as Mingyu. Despite the fact that she just ate, she contemplating requesting that he make a batch of it right now.

Mingyu grabs a knife to start chopping up some of the fruit. Kamile takes a seat at the island across from him, propping her chin in her hand as she watches him work. She’s always loved watching him cook almost as much as eating the food he makes. She can’t even remember the last time that she was able to do this. It feels like a lifetime ago. Her eyes with sparkle with fascination watching him prepare the food for their picnic.

“Open up.” Mingyu holds a strawberry up to her lips and Kamile opens her mouth without hesitation. The berry is perfectly ripe and so juicy that a stream of it runs down her chin. Mingyu reaches out to swipe it away, licking the liquid from his thumb.

“Tasty.” Kamile squirms in her seat at the way his lips wrap around his thumb. Time for her to make an escape before she does something crazy like fuck her husband in someone else’s kitchen.

Mingyu watches Kamile hastily retreat with barely concealed glee. He’d thought that she’d stopped being attracted to him, but that is incorrect if the results of the little experiment he’d decided to conduct are to be believed. He smiles to himself as he continues cutting up fruit. There might be hope for them yet.

After agonizing longer than he should have over the best spot to set up their little picnic, Mingyu finally picks a spot. He’s so focused on how best to arrange everything on the blanket that he doesn’t even notice Kamile creeping up behind him. He nearly jumps out of his own skin when she clears her throat much to Kamile’s amusement.

“Did I scare you?” It’s clear to her that she did, but making him admit it is too good for her to pass up.

“No…maybe.” Kamile hums in response, kneeling across from him on the blanket. “That dress is really pretty on you.”

“Thank you.” She mumbles in response. It’s been so long since she’s heard any sort of praise or compliment from Mingyu that she doesn’t even know how to respond anymore. It almost feels brand new.

Eager to rid herself of the awkwardness blooming in her chest, Kamile grabs a fork and shoves what she thinks is a potato straight in her mouth. In her haste, she fails to realize that the potato she thought she had is actually an onion. Mingyu doubles over with laughter at the pure disgust painted across Kamile’s face. She desperately wants to spit it out but she was raised to believe that spitting out perfectly good food is only a half step below a sin so she powers through. She chugs one of the glasses of fresh squeezed lemonade on the small tray to her right as Mingyu continues to cackle at her plight.

“You set me up for failure.” Kamile has hated onions from the womb according to the stories her mother told about the smell of onions making her nauseous for her entire pregnancy. Mingyu must pay for this.

“I purposely cut them big enough for you to easily pick them out. You weren’t supposed to eat them.” Mingyu defends himself breathily as he tries desperately to stop laughing. Kamile reaches out to punch him in the arm which only serves to make him laugh harder.

Silence falls over them again although, unlike breakfast this morning, they’re able to exchange some small talk here and there. The awkwardness that they’d started off with wanes and wanes until they’re left comfortably enjoying each other’s presence for the first time in a long time.

Mingyu finds himself unable to take his eyes off of Kamile. He’d meant it when he’d said that the yellow sundress she’s wearing looked pretty on her. It compliments the rich mahogany of her skin as if it was made especially for her. The plethora of curls that he’s always loved are full of life as she bobs her head side to side, one of her many habits that Mingyu has always adored. His chest feels tight with the weight of his love for her. He can’t believe that he nearly let her slip away.

“You’re staring, Mingyu.” Kamile says between bites of the strawberry she’d grabbed. Mingyu opens his mouth to answer when a distant rumble beats him to the punch.

“Oh shit.”

The two of them hastily toss the near empty dishes back into the picnic basket. Dark clouds are steadily rolling in with the speed of a bullet train. Just when they think they might be able to make it back into the house, their luck runs out. The rain comes down in sheets, drenching them in seconds. Kamile is so thankful that the lack of pockets on her dress lead to her choosing to leave her phone inside.

Kamile is the worst mood when they finally reach the safety of the house. She just went through the stress and physical exhaustion of wash day two days ago and now she has to do it all over again five days ahead of schedule.

“Did you not check the fucking weather before you decided to turn us into sitting ducks outside?” She seethes. Mingyu arches a brow in confusion at her sudden mood swing.

“Of course I did. It was supposed to be nothing but sunshine all week.”

“Well, clearly that was a lie but I’ve grown to accept that from you. Now I’ve got to go suffer through wash day ahead of schedule.” Mingyu winces at her words, but he’s nothing if not an opportunist so he chooses to ignore it in favor of jumping on the more important statement Kamile just made.

“Can I help you with your hair?” He asks as he follows his grumpy wife up the staircase. She pauses outside her room to fix him with a glare.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why? I’ve always helped you with your hair.” In his mind, this isn’t a huge request. The Kamile he knew used to be only too happy to allow him to hand over her hair products for him to do her extensive wash day routine for her. He’d actually gotten so good at it that he’d even started doing her younger sisters’ hair whenever he was in the states to visit.

“I barely know who you are anymore and you expect me to let you touch my hair? Not a chance in hell.” Kamile’s voice climbs in volume until she’s practically yelling.

The last thing Mingyu wants to do today is fight, but enough is enough. Their screams echo through the spacious house as they go back and forth over Kamile’s mistrust of Mingyu. He doesn’t get it and she thinks it’s incredibly shocking that he doesn’t. Kamile’s phone rings somewhere in the bedroom she has yet to enter, effectively interrupting their spat. She leaves Mingyu in the hallway in favor of answering it and groans out loud when she sees that it’s a FaceTime call from Yeojin. She’d forgotten all about the daily check-ins that the therapist had mentioned she’d be conducting. She goes back out to the hallway and drags Mingyu with her to the staircase so they can get this call over with without ruining the carpet in her room.

“Hello, love birds! How’s everything going?” Yeojin chirps once the call connects. Her hopeful smile falters slightly when she sees the sour looks on her clients’ faces.

Mingyu is only too happy to give the attentive marriage counselor a full rundown of what was happening before she called. Kamile scowls at him the entire time. To hear him tell it, she’s the bad guy but anyone with common sense would’ve left her alone after she’d made it perfectly clear that she was not in the mood to have a conversation. She can’t wait for Yeojin to drag him therapeutically for not picking up on that.

“Kamile, what do you think lead to you lashing out like that? The rain was not his fault.” The woman in question is thrown off when the outcome she was expecting doesn’t come to fruition.

“He should’ve checked the weather before deciding to have a picnic outside but that’s neither here nor there. I feel like I made it very clear that I didn’t want to talk to him and yet he kept pressing the issue.” Kamile can’t believe that she has to defend herself. Mingyu is so hasty with responding that it sounds like a keyboard smash is coming out of his mouth.

“I would like to make it known that I did not say one word to you when we came back inside until you started yelling at me.” He looks incredibly smug as he watches Kamile’s mouth open and close as she tries to think of a way to refute his statement. “I would also like to make it known that I have been obsessive about every detail of this picnic and I would have never had it outside if there was even a slight chance that it might rain. Maybe if you had a little more faith in me you could see that.”

“And that brings me to my next point.” Yeojin begins. “We’ve established that the infidelity was a myth, so why do you continue to hold on to that mistrust, Kamile? I want you to really think about it and be completely honest with both us and yourself. I’m not saying that whatever you’re feeling is wrong because you are entitled to feel that way but I think it would be good for the both of you if why you feel that way is better understood.”

The theme of the day continues to be silence as Kamile ponders the question put before her. She’s mature enough to admit that not trusting Mingyu while also admitting that she believes him when he says that he didn’t cheat is contradictory. The root of that contradiction is something she’s been trying to avoid ever since she got roped into that surprise therapy session. Mingyu’s alleged infidelity had been her out. Her escape. She had cut and run on the back of a false truth and that reality is something that’s been hard for her to process. Tears well up in Kamile's eyes as she thinks back to Mingyu’s rant about their wedding vows when they’d first arrived. She’d thought that everything was his fault and being forced to face the truth is difficult. Mingyu’s harsh glare softens as he reaches out to wipe the tears from her face as they start to fall. He sighs when she pulls away from him.

“I can see that I’ve found a sore spot so I won’t press this any further today. We’ll revisit this in the future.” Yeojin gives them some tips on how to better communicate before she ends the call.

Kamile is only too happy to end the call so she can lock herself in her room. She doesn’t even come back out for dinner despite Mingyu all but begging outside of her door. He’s not sure what mental dots she connected when they were talking to Yeojin, but whatever it was seems to have upset her more than he’d originally thought.

A weather alert comes through on Mingyu’s phone as he watches TV downstairs. Apparently the storm that had snuck up on them earlier is part of a much larger system of severe weather that changed course and is expected to hang around the area for the next day or two. His first thought is Kamile. She’s terrified of thunderstorms. Always has been.

He thinks back to a time before they started dating when Kamile was just Vernon’s pretty American friend that he had a huge crush on. She had come to Korea to visit and insisted on sleeping on the couch despite the fact that everyone tried to give up their room for her. Much like today, a nasty storm rolled in and in her panicked state she had accidentally ended up in his room instead of Vernon’s. The realization had been comical and she’d tried to leave to go to the right room, but a sudden clap of thunder that seemed to shake the whole building sent her diving into his arms where she stayed for the rest of the night. She slept through a thunderstorm for the first time in her life that night. A selfish part of him hopes that this storm brings him the same luck he had all those years ago.

Day 3

Heavy rain beats against the window like a prize fighter while thunder rattles Kamile’s brain until she feels like screaming. There aren’t many things that strike true fear in her heart, but thunderstorms are definitely somewhere in the top five things on that list. She’s got her headphones in and her music blasting, but it does very little to drown out the war going on outside. She rips the blankets from her body and makes for the bedroom door to go get in bed with Mingyu but like the fifty other times she’s attempted to do that she stops herself in the hallway. The door shuts with a soft click as she seals herself back in her own personal hell.

Kamile jolts awake not even aware of when she had even managed to fall asleep. Sweat has glued her clothes to her skin and it’s making her skin crawl the longer she lays there. She groans aloud when she hears the rain still beating against the window pane. The alarm clock on the nightstand says that it’s just barely six in the morning which means it’s been exactly one hour since she apparently passed out from exhaustion. A rumble off in the distance lets her know that she probably won’t be getting more sleep any time soon so she drags herself to the bathroom for a shower.

Freshly showered and in desperate need of caffeine, Kamile makes for the kitchen. Mingyu’s bare back comes into view for the second consecutive morning when she rounds the corner. His hair is sticking up in odd directions and he looks to be five seconds from falling asleep standing up as he stabs at the buttons on the coffee maker.

“Why are you up so early?”

“You need coffee.” He replies with a yawn.

“Yeah, but I can make it myself. You didn’t need to lose sleep to make me coffee.” She protests. Mingyu turns to glare at her until Kamile raises her hands in surrender.

“If you’re up, I’m up.” Kamile shakes her head at him as she pulls two mugs out of the cabinet. No sense in arguing with him when he’s clearly made up his mind about suffering.

The two of them sit in silence side by side, sipping their coffee, and staring out the window watching Mother Nature do her thing. Out of habit, Kamile leans over to rest her head on MIngyu’s shoulder. She stiffens when she realizes what she’s doing. Mingyu holds his breath. Scared that if he makes any sudden movements the bubble will burst and she’ll move away from him. She surprises the both of them when she lets the tension drain from her shoulders instead, relaxing into him.

“I’m sorry.” Kamile whispers into the void. If Mingyu wasn’t so acutely focused on her every move, he probably wouldn’t have even heard it over the wind.

“Me too.” He turns his head to softly kiss the top of her head, taking a moment to inhale the familiar scent of her hair products. He never knew it was possible to miss a singular smell so much.

They’ve exchanged exactly four words since they sat down at the table, but they mean so much. There’s a near palpable shift in the air. Like a switch has flipped. An unspoken truce between them that they are in this together. Kamile lifts her head to finish her coffee and Mingyu immediately misses the weight of her head on his shoulder.

“Did you ever finish watching The Originals?” Kamile asks before downing the last of her coffee.

“No, it was kind of our thing so I haven’t watched it since we stopped watching it together.” She hums in response.

“Well, it looks like we’re going to be stuck in this house all day so we may as well pick up where we left off.” Mingyu nearly chokes on his coffee. He can’t even remember the last time Kamile willingly suggested that they spend time together. He pinches himself to make sure he’s not dreaming which she rolls her eyes at.

“Come on. You’re in charge of snacks.”

For the next eight hours, their butts are glued to the couch. They only get up to use the bathroom and replenish their snack pile. They’ve spent so much of their time arguing that Kamile had forgotten how much she loved just being with Mingyu. Klaus is about to rain down hellfire on some of his enemies when Mingyu’s phone vibrates in the pocket of his sweatpants. Kamile can feel it against her own thigh and it’s only then that she realizes the way that they’ve gravitated towards each other over the course of the day. If she were to get any closer to him, she’d be sitting in his lap. Mingyu had intended to ignore the call, thinking it might be someone from the company despite his strict instructions not to contact him, but he answers it instead when he sees that it’s Yeojin.

“Well don’t you two look cozy. I was planning to pick up where we left off yesterday, but I’d rather talk about this first.” Yeojin looks entirely too smug as she brings attention to the lack of space between the two of them. Mingyu half expects Kamile to scoot away from him now that it’s been pointed out just how close they are, but she stays put.

“Can’t a girl just sit next to her husband without being questioned to death?” Kamile asks playfully. Yeojin chuckles and moves on with their daily check in.

“Fine, fine I’ll leave it alone. Let’s get down to business. Mingyu we didn’t get to hear from you a lot yesterday so I’d like to get into how you felt when Kamile left. What was that like for you?” Yeojin rests her chin on her hand as she waits to see what’s going to come out of the box of emotions she just opened.

Mingyu briefly realizes that this is the first time he’s talked about that day to anyone as he recounts that dark morning like the nightmare it was. Kamile listens in stunned silence while he tells his story. After seeing the bags under his eyes at Yeojin’s house, she’d figured that he’d suffered just like she had, but she’d never imagined that waking up to find her rings and the note she’d left had affected him to the extent that it did. The guilt that’s been festering in her gut increases tenfold at the thought of him heaving into the toilet.

“I knew things weren’t the greatest but I truly did believe that we were strong enough to get through whatever. Divorce never crossed my mind even once so it killed me to know that it had not only crossed her mind but became a viable option that she ran with. I get why she thought that was the best option now, but then it felt like I’d been blindsided.” Mingyu explains. His words are laced with the hurt that he’s been keeping to himself. Kamile picks at the words screen printed down one of the legs of her sweatpants wishing that a hold would open beneath her and swallow her up. She’s never felt so low.

“Kamile, I see you’re getting emotional. What are you feeling right now?” Yeojin gently pries. Mingyu pulls Kamile into him as his own emotions start getting the better of him. Yeojin is pleased to note that, unlike yesterday, Kamile doesn’t snatch away from him.

“I was so focused on how unhappy I was that I didn’t consider anything else. It was all about me, me, me.” Kamile stares off into space as she opens up. She’s never talked about this with anyone but her best friends. In hindsight, they might not be sitting where they are right if she’d just talked to Mingyu about it ages ago but then again hindsight is always 20/20. “I visited Korea plenty of times when we were dating, but living here as the black wife of an idol has been so hard. Being from America, I’m used to people treating me different because of my skin color but when people feel entitled to be so invasive about it because of who I’m married to…it’s different.”

Mingyu’s jaw is on the floor as he listens to the struggles that his wife was having right under his nose and he never knew. He noticed that she’d become more withdrawn and hostile but he could never figure out why and she wouldn’t tell him when he asked. It comes as no surprise to him now that she stopped going outside. He can’t exactly blame her. Seventeen is going on their eighth year so Mingyu is a seasoned veteran at ignoring the things people say on the internet. Unfortunately, Kamile didn’t have that luxury. His stomach turns at the tales of her being approached on the street by people who wrongly called themselves fans thinking they were protecting him. The racist comments made about her online. She was suffering and he just let it go on thinking that she was just being moody.

“Do you think that caused you to develop a little resentment for Mingyu and his idol status?”

Kamile’s first instinct is to say no, but given that they are supposed to be as honest possible she tamps down the lie before it can slip out. She did resent that she’d fallen for someone with such great public notoriety sometimes. It was different when she was just one of Vernon’s childhood friends. The general public didn’t really care what she did from day to day, but now one wrong move turns her into a trending topic and she doesn’t know how to handle it. There are days that she wishes that Mingyu was just a normal person, but then they would have never met and that’s not a reality she truly wants to live in despite her feelings towards him when she walked out.

“Maybe a little bit but I know we’d have never met if he wasn’t Mingyu from Seventeen so it’s pointless really.”

They talk with Yeojin a little while longer before she has to go to her next appointment. The air between them is heavy with the weight of the secrets that have come to light. It’s a stifling atmosphere and it’s beginning to drive Kamile insane. She reaches for the remote to restart their show, but Mingyu takes it from her.

“Why didn’t you tell me what was going on?” His eyes are misty as he struggles to hold himself back from crying once more. He could kick himself for not doing his best to shield her from the people that had killed her spirit.

“You’re already so busy and the last thing I wanted to do was add to everything else on your plate.” Mingyu wants to scream. She means more to him than being an idol. She always has. He cups her face in his hands, pressing his forehead to hers.

“Promise me that you won’t hold stuff inside like that anymore and I promise to be better at not letting you. Deal?”

“Deal.” Kamile’s eyes flutter closed as Mingyu pulls away to press his lips to her forehead.

He clears his throat before grabbing the remote to resume their show. For the next few hours, conversation is limited to the messy lives of the supernatural beings on the screen before them. The wind still howls. The rain is unceasing. Yet in the little bubble of Netflix and snacks that they’ve created, it may as well not even exist.

Until bedtime that is.

“You know,” Mingyu says as they file up the stairs. The seemingly ever present bad weather still continues, “…you don’t have to sleep alone. I know you don’t like storms.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” It would be so easy to take him up on his offer. She could finally get some sleep, but for whatever reason she can’t bring herself to do it.

“Well you know where I am if you change your mind. Good night, Kamile.”

“Good night, Mingyu.”

Kamile stares at the ceiling in despair. She didn’t think it was possible for the storm to get worse but apparently Mother Nature took that as a challenge. She’s starting to genuinely concerned about whether or not the window by her bed can withstand the force of the weather it’s being forced to deal with. Kamile contemplates running to Mingyu’s room but shuts that idea down for the millionth time. Things feel...different between them after today’s call with Yeojin but she’s not sure if they’ve been different enough to justify hopping into bed with him quite yet.

“This is fine. I don’t need to sleep.” She whispers into the void.

She’s accepted her fate and made peace with it. Or at least that’s what she thought she’d done. A crack of lighting illuminates the room despite the blackout curtains over the window followed by a thunderous boom so loud it seems to vibrate her very being. Kamile is across the hall before she even has the time to process what she’s doing. Mingyu is out cold when she bursts into the room. Her brain chooses that moment to catch up to what she’s doing and flips on the switch of self-consciousness. Another loud boom has her throwing caution to the wind once more, sliding beneath the blanket to get as close to him as possible without waking him up.

Kamile lays next to him a trembling anxious mess as the storm rages on. She’s so consumed by her own fear that she doesn’t even notice the man next to her has roused from sleep until he’s wrapped both of his arms around her to pull her into his warm chest. It’s as if the environmental warfare outside ceases to exist the second Kamile’s cheek makes contact with Mingyu’s skin. His presence drowns everything out just like it did all those years ago. The sleep that had been evading her comes quickly in his embrace.

Day 4

A ray of sunlight shines perfectly through a crack in the curtain to hit Kamile square in the face. She squirms around trying to escape it and gets a frustrated groan in response. It’s then that she registers the weight of the arm that rests loosely across her midsection. The memory of running to Mingyu’s bed in the middle of the night comes rushing back to her. Her first instinct is to bolt, but she’s so touch starved that she finds herself turning in his hold in a bid to get closer.

“Good morning.” Mingyu grunts something in response that she’s sure he thought sounded like good morning.

He slots one of his legs between hers and unintentionally allows her to feel the morning wood barely contained by his boxer briefs. Mingyu’s even breathing indicates that he’s fallen back asleep. Kamile would love to do the same but all of her attention is laser focused on the hardened appendage intimately pressed against her upper thigh. A damp spot has already started forming in her panties. She needs to get out of this bed now. Kamile squirms and wiggles around trying to get away, but it would seem that her efforts are having the opposite effect. A throaty groan slips from Mingyu’s lips.

“Stop moving.” He mumbles still half asleep. Kamile does her best to stop fidgeting and focus her attention elsewhere, but it’s not working. Her inner muscles clench around nothing as thoughts of what Mingyu could do to her dance dangerously through her mind.

“I have to pee.” Mingyu cracks one eye open. It doesn’t take a genius to tell that he doesn’t believe her for a second but he releases her anyway. He sighs as he watches her run off to the en suite bathroom.

Mingyu is noticeably absent when Kamile emerges from the bathroom fresh off a rushed orgasm though hardly sated. She follows the scent of coffee downstairs to find Mingyu bent over digging through one of the crisper drawers in the refrigerator. Back before everything went to shit she would’ve slapped his ass with glee and run away before he could exact his revenge. Good times.

“Did you hear what I said?” Kamile was so focused on his ass that she hadn’t even registered the fact that Mingyu had said anything.

“Huh?”

“I said do you want to get in the hot tub later since we can go outside now?” He repeats as he hands over a cup of coffee already milky and sweet the way she likes it.

“It’s almost 80 degrees outside and you want to get in a hot tub?” She questions slowly to which Mingyu responds with an emphatic yes. “Be honest. Are you just trying to see me in a bikini?”

“Absolutely.” He giggles when Kamile reaches out to smack him on the arm. “Why are you attacking me? Yeojin said we have to be honest at all times.”

“I don’t think that included being a horny little shit.”

“I’m a man with eyes and a hot wife. I can’t help.” Despite the compliment, Kamile’s mood sours at his words. Mingyu’s freshly honed observation skills picks up on it immediately.

“Uh oh, did I say something wrong?”

“If I’m so hot, then why haven’t we had sex in four months? We used to go at it like rabbits and then one day you just stopped initiating things.”

Mingyu is quick to point out that he did try to have sex with her plenty of times, but she pushed him away. Eventually, he gave up. It’s almost funny when the dots start connecting in her head. Her personal struggles had originally been why she denied him sex, but then he’d started coming home doused in perfume so she really didn’t want anything to do with him then. Mingyu has never been a very pushy person so he figured he’d just wait her out. He didn’t think that he’d end up in a four month dry spell (and counting), but he was also not about to look for satisfaction outside of his marriage either.

“How about we save this sex talk until after I’m finished cooking? All of the blood in my body is rushing south and these rice cakes are starting to look like nipples.” Kamile nearly chokes on the water she’d just taken a sip of. Tears pour from her eyes as her body can’t decide if it wants to laugh or die of asphyxiation.

“Woah, woah! When we said till death do us part I was hoping we’d be farting dust not barely 26.” Kamile is sure that he wants her dead now as her internal war between laughing and choking only gets worse.

Despite her earlier protests, Kamile finds herself seated across from Mingyu in the hot tub later that evening as they watch the sun set. She fully expects him to try something from the way his eyes keep drifting south to stare at her chest, but he’s on his best behavior the entire time.

Day 5

“Hello, love birds! I missed you two yesterday. What happened?” Yeojin looks hesitant almost as if she’s scared of their answer. She looks downright relieved to hear that they missed her call because they fell asleep cuddling on the couch. After getting a run down of everything that’s happened since they last spoke, she encourages them to continue sleeping in the same bed together.

“Couples often downplay the amount of good that just being physically close to your partner can be. If you’re both comfortable sleeping next to each other without a thunderstorm being the driving force, please keep doing it.” Yeojin pleads before ending the call to go to her next appointment.

Her words hang in the air even after she’s gone. Mingyu looks over at Kamile with a questioning look on his face. It’s clear that he’s after her opinion on this whole shared bed situation, but Kamile doesn’t have much to say on the matter. The two of them have been pretty much inseparable during the day now, but she’s still nervous about sleeping in the same bed together and she doesn’t know how to shake that feeling. She was too scared to think about it last night but without the weather to distract her she’s not so sure if sit’s a good idea.

“What’s going on in there?” Mingyu taps a finger against Kamile’s temple to get her attention. She shakes her head but he’s got a feeling it’s about what Yeojin’s bed sharing idea.

“If this is about sharing a bed, don’t worry about. You’ve got the rest of the day to decide.” She nods in acknowledgement of his point but Mingyu can tell that the gears in her head are turning even faster than before. Her overthinking is going to give her a headache.

Night time comes entirely too quickly for Kamile’s liking. Mingyu has kept her so busy that she hasn’t had the time to sit down to sort through her thoughts. Knowing him, he probably did that on purpose. He always hated her habit of overthinking everything, preferring to live in the moment and make decisions as they arose. Kamile has never had much success doing that which is why they work so well together. He balances her out and helps her weed out the important aspects of the topic at hand to make faster decisions.

Her mind is racing as they climb the stairs on their way to bed. Mingyu stops at the door to his bedroom and looks at her with such hope on his face that she almost feels guilty for what she’s about to say. His face falls when Kamile tells him that she thinks it’s better for them to sleep in their own respective rooms tonight. Mingyu is a good sport about it, bidding her good night with a lingering kiss to her forehead.

Falling asleep has never been a problem for Mingyu which is why he’s utterly confused when he’s still wide awake three hours after getting into bed. He’s in danger of pulling the sheets off of the mattress on one side from how much he’s been tossing and turning.

This is bullshit. I’ve been sleeping fine every night. What’s the difference now?

Mingyu sits up to fluff his pillows. It doesn’t help. He kicks the ceiling fan up a notch. That doesn’t help either. He counts sheep, ducks, and even cows, but nothing is working. The longer he tries to avoid the obvious the more awake he seems to be. Sleeping in the guest room most nights to avoid arguing had taught him to sleep alone. Now that he knows what it’s like to hold her again, he’s ruined. He wonders briefly if Kamile is awake too. Is she just as restless too?

He tosses and turns for the better part of another hour. The clock on his phone says that 3 a.m is quickly approaching and Mingyu caves. It takes less than ten seconds to cross the hall to her room, but practicing his explanation as to why he’s in her room at ass o’clock in the morning takes much longer. He knocks twice and pokes his head in.

“Kam?”

“You can’t sleep either, huh?” She asks without even turning to look at the man poking his head into her bedroom.

Mingyu nearly collapses from sheer relief when Kamile simply reaches behind herself to lift the blankets after he confirms that he’s been unable to fall asleep just like her. He wastes no time sliding in behind her. Before he can even get it out of his mouth to ask, Kamile reaches back to find his arm, pulling it across her waist.

“Good night, Gyu.” Kamile whispers. Her words are slurred as if she’s already half asleep. Mingyu kisses her shoulder, letting his lips linger against her skin.

“Good night, Kam.”

Day 6

A feather light touch to her lower lip is what prompts Kamile to open her eyes long before she’s ready. She pulls back slightly once her vision clears and she realizes just how close Mingyu’s face is to her own. He even has the audacity to laugh at her surprise.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d wake up.” He’s not sure how long he’s been watching her sleep, but he’d do it for the rest of his days. The pesky organ in his chest skips a beat as he holds Kamile’s gaze like a lifeline. He mulls over his next words very carefully, preparing for a possible rejection just as he did when he came to her room in the middle of night. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please do.” She whispers into the inch of space that separates them.

Mingyu closed the gap slowly as if he’s giving her time to change her mind. Kamile sighs when his lips finally touch hers. One of his hands comes up to untie the silk scarf tied protectively around her head so that he can bury his hand in the curls he’s always been obsessed with. He uses his grip on her to guide her head as he deepens the kiss.

She rolls onto her back and pulls him with her so that his much larger frame nearly covers hers entirely. Mingyu lets his primal instincts take over. Too lost in the way her lips are moving against his own. A groan rattles his chest when she squirms beneath him until his hips are situated between her thighs. The thin fabric of their respective underwear are the only barriers separating his aching erection from the place she needs him most. He can’t resist the urge to grind himself against her. If his brain wasn’t so clouded in lust, he’d probably have the mental capacity to feel a little embarrassed at just how quickly he’s risen to full mast. Kamile is floating somewhere beyond cloud nine when Mingyu’s hand that had been cradling her head moves to lightly grip her throat instead while the other rhythmically squeezes and pushes at her ass in time with his thrusts. Her head is tipped back in ecstasy as he kisses along her jaw.

It takes a herculean effort that he wasn’t totally sure he was even capable of, but Mingyu separates himself from the panting woman in his arms. He rocks back on his heels and Kamile’s eyes are immediately drawn to the tantalizing bulge at the apex of his shapely thighs. She reaches for him but Mingyu grabs her wrist before she can get her hands on him. He lifts her hand to his lips, pressing kisses to the back of it.

“Trust me when I say that I would love nothing more than to ravage you right now but if I’m going to be inside you again, I want you to have my ring on your finger.” Kamile starts to speak but stops when Mingyu presses his index finger to her lips. He traces the outline of her kiss swollen lips almost as if he’s in a trance. “I don’t want you to make a decision that you’re not totally comfortable with just because you’re horny. I want you to really want it. I want you to really want us. Now get up so I can feed you.”

A vulgar comment about what she really wants him to feed her crosses Kamile’s mind as Mingyu playfully swats at her thighs to get her moving. She respects his resolve and keeps it to herself but only barely.

“It’s super nice outside. Wanna go for a walk?” Kamile would actually rather stay inside and enjoy the comforts of the air-conditioning, but Mingyu looks so excited that she finds herself giving in. She disappears upstairs to put on her sneakers mentally kicking herself for being so whipped for the man waiting for her by the patio door.

Mingyu laces his fingers between Kamile’s

They happen across a small stream during their casual stroll around the property. Kamile stops to look at Mingyu to see if he’s on the same wavelength as her.

“Let’s do it.”

Their shoes are abandoned under a tree near the creek before running full speed into the water. The cooler temperature of the water feels like heaven. Kamile squeals when Mingyu splashes her with water. Mingyu suddenly lifts her over his shoulder, using the hand that’s not holding on to her to splash Kamile with more water. She’s out of breath from laughing when he finally lets her down only to steal the rest of her breath away when he surprises her with a kiss.

“What was that for?” She’s slightly dazed both from the lack of oxygen and the searing kiss he’s just laid on her.

“Because.” He smirks at her before swooping in for yet another kiss.

“And that one?”

“Because part two.” Kamile giggles at his corniness even though she does her best not to give him the satisfaction of knowing it gets to her. Mingyu’s smile somehow gets even bigger at the sound of her laughter. He digs his fingers into his sides to prolong her laughter for his own enjoyment.

They spend a little longer frolicking around before finally heading back to the house to shower and start on dinner. Kamile unsuccessfully lobbies to shower together but Mingyu is adamant in his refusal. He’s positive that the self-control he exhibited earlier that morning used up all the restraint he could’ve ever hoped to have for the next six months. There’s no way he’d be able to deny her. He kisses her quickly before running off to his own bathroom.

Mingyu is totally and completely in love. He absentmindedly pushes his food around with his fork as he listens to Kamile rant about the mistreatment and near erasure of some X-Men character named Darwin. He’s got absolutely no idea what she’s talking about but she’s so passionate about it that he can’t help being fascinated.

“Darwin’s whole entire superpower was that he could adapt to anything and you mean to tell me that robots designed to adapt to and counteract the powers of mutants were built off of Mystique’s DNA? Absolutely not. I might be a little-” Her rant is cut short by her phone ringing on the kitchen counter where she’d left it. She grumbles about being interrupted as she gets up to go get it. It’s Yeojin.

Kamile returns to the table with her phone, choosing to sit in Mingyu’s lap for their daily check-in. The marriage counselor should get a kick out of that one. Sure enough, their seating arrangement is the first thing that Yeojin comments on. They take turns updating her on everything that’s occurred since they last spoke with her though they leave out some of the more sordid details.

“This is what I like to hear!” She exclaims with an excited clap of her hands. “It seems that everything is going well right now. Is there anything we haven’t talked about this week that one of you wants to go over? If not, I’m comfortable ending the call here.” They say their goodbyes after confirming that they feel like they’re in a good place right now. Yeojin makes them swear to call her the moment they think they need her but she doubts that she’ll be hearing from them until their follow-up appointment in a few days.

Kamile makes to get up to return to her own chair but Mingyu stops her. She shrugs and reaches across the table to grab her own bowl. He smiles to himself as she resumes the rant that she’d been in the middle of before Yeojin’s call. He still has no idea what she’s going on about but he’s content to just listen to her vent.

Day 7

Anxiety twisting her gut into knots is what eventually pulls Kamile from the bliss of sleep. Mingyu’s side of the bed is empty and she’s thankful for that to a certain extent. She heads for the shower, taking extra care with everything she does until she realizes how cowardly it is to stall like this. Deciding against putting on actual clothes, Kamile opts to just pull on one of oversized hoodies.

“Good morning!” Mingyu leans over to kiss her sweetly before turning back to the pan he’s tending to on the stove. He’s been doing that a lot since yesterday. Just randomly stealing kisses like he’s making up for lost time.

“Just so you don’t get freaked out when they show up, I’ve got a private chef coming to cook us dinner tonight.” Mingyu mentions as they sit down to eat breakfast. She’s pleasantly surprised that he’s put in so much thought into their anniversary even though he’s yet to directly mention the fact that today is their anniversary.

Today is their last day in their little safe haven away from the world and the status of their marriage is still technically up in the air. They both know that a decision needs to be made before they leave in the morning, but neither of them has brought it up. It’s like they’ve been tip toeing around the giant elephant in the room and expecting for it to just disappear on its own.

Other than Mingyu making tteokbeokki, extra spicy and extra cheesy just the way Kamile likes it, they don’t really do much throughout the day. A majority of their time is spent tangled in each other on the couch just talking. They reminisce on the days when they’d first started dating. Kamile nearly falls off of the couch in a fit of laughter at Mingyu’s spot on impression of Vernon’s face when he’d caught them sneaking a few kisses in the dorm kitchen one day. Each memory is sweeter than the last and Kamile is overcome with the urge to make more of those memories. Now that she’s been able to let go of the anger and misplaced resentment that had made her bitter, she actually has hope in that possibility.

The heels of the platform pumps she’d decided on for the night click with every step as Kamile slowly descends the staircase. She’s determined not to let her natural clumsiness send her to the hospital on such an important day. Mingyu holds his hand out to her when she reaches the last few steps. He looks every bit the international superstar that he’s known to be.

“You look absolutely stunning.” Warmth spreads across her face at the whispered compliment. She barely manages to return the favor. Kamile’s nerves are starting to get the better of her and she hopes and prays that there’s wine on the table so that she can drink them away.

Thankfully, Kamile notices a bottle of white wine chilling in an ice bucket next to the table when Mingyu leads her into the dim dining room. The dinner prepared by the chef looks delicious and she’s can’t wait to taste it but wine is her first priority if she expects to make it through dinner without bolting. Her first glass is tipped down her throat in record time much to Mingyu’s amusement. He refills without hesitation though she chooses to actually sip that one as intended.

Conversation flows easily between them as they eat. However, the topic that deserves their attention the most continues to stew on the back burner as they talk about literally anything else. As nervous as Kamile was when she first came downstairs, Mingyu is doubly so. He’s done his almighty best to convince Kamile that their marriage is worth saving without outright begging her. Based on the past few days, he’s incredibly hopeful that she’ll come back home with him tomorrow and stay there but she’s always been a wildcard. You never truly knew what move she was going to make until she made it. The small velvet box in his pocket feels like a stone. During a lull in the conversation, Mingyu makes his move.

“Kamile,” He reaches across the table to grab both of her hands, “Four years ago you agreed to be my girlfriend and I thought that surely that was the happiest day of my life but then you said yes to being my wife and I knew then that I was wrong. You’re the most precious part of my life and I was a fool for not making sure that you knew that every day for the last year.”

Mingyu pauses to get down on one knee next to Kamile, pulling the ring box from his pocket. Her ring is nestled in the tiny velvet box. It sparkles brilliantly even in the dim lighting. “Kamile Kim, will you do me the honor of staying my wife?”

Tears well up in Kamile’s eyes as she nods her head yes. She’d made countless lists and weighed her options, but in that moment she throws all of that logic to the wind. At the end of the day, Mingyu is the one. He always has been and he always will be. She can’t believe that she almost threw everything away over her own assumptions and insecurities. Mingyu doesn’t hesitate to slide the piece of jewelry onto her trembling hand when she holds it out to him. He stands, pulling her with him so that he can kiss her senseless.

“I’ve been waiting to say this until I knew where we stood but….happy anniversary, babe.”

“Happy anniversary, Gyu.” She whispers against his lips before kissing him deeply once more. “Now take me upstairs.”

“Your wish is my command, my lady.”

#the intimacy anthology #kim mingyu #mingyu seventeen #mingyu idol au #mingyu au #mingyu established relationship #mingyu x oc #mingyu x reader #mingyu x black oc #mingyu x poc oc #mingyu smut #seventeen smut #vernon

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littlelovelyspiderling · 4 years

Text

Unmasked

Spider-Man is forced to fight the Sinister Six while he’s sick, which leads to his enemies making unexpected discoveries about their arch nemesis.

Chapter 2

Doc Oc’s notoriously dull and empty lab was filled with bodies and excitement that evening. The Sinister Six piled eagerly into the large room as Octavius dumped a bloody, unconscious Spider-Man onto one of the examination tables. An uproar of cheers and laughter followed.

“The spider is finally squashed!”

“Is he still alive? No way he’s still alive.”

“Heart’s still beating, according to the computer.”

“Who cares? The little bitch finally got what was coming to him.”

“I wanna break his other leg. Can I break his other leg?”

“Now, now, listen, my comrades.” Octavius rose above the group on his metal limbs, tapping a glass against a bottle of champagne until the room fell quiet. “Before we continue, I think a win this spectacular deserves to be celebrated accordingly.”

Using the prehensile pincers at the ends of each tentacle, Otto poured and distributed the alcohol with ease, and everyone raised their glasses.

“A toast to us, the greatest super villains to ever grace history!”

“Here, here!”

“And a toast to Spider-Man! The biggest, most obnoxious pain in all our asses—vanquished at last!”

Laughs and shouts preceded the communion. After downing his drink, Otto wiped his lips with a grin.

“And as the leader of this great and glorious team, I am nothing if not giving to my loyal followers. Since you all deserve personal retribution for the many, many grievances this wretch has inflicted upon us, I promise each of you at least two minutes of reparation time to do to Spider-Man whatever you feel he deserves. Once we wring his throat dry of whatever information he possesses, he’s all yours. So long as I get to deal the final blow.” He chuckled. “Well, if he survives that long, anyway.”

“I’ll snap off all his fingers!”

“I’ll gag him with his own webbing!”

“I’ll pop his head like a grape!”

“I’ll zap him ’til his heart stops, then zap it back to life, then zap him dead again!”

“Revenge is sweet,” Octavius concurred, walking around the table to stand behind Spider-Man’s head. The rest of the Sinister Six went silent and gathered on either side of the fallen hero, with Rhino at his feet. “But first,” Doc continued, reaching forward with one of his mechanical tentacles. The tips of the metal prongs pinched the fabric at the top of Spider-Man’s mask.

“Let’s have a look at our arch enemy’s face.”

In one quick yank, the mask peeled off the hero’s head. Six pairs of eyes absorbed the bruised, pale face lying lifelessly before them—the face of their sworn nemesis. A face none of them were anticipating. Gradually, the grins and snickers faded away, replaced by furrowed brows and puzzled glances.

“Wait…” Electro said, breaking the long stretch of silence.

“I’m…confused,” Scorpion added.

“Is he—does he look—?”

“Like…a kid?”

Everyone’s gazes rose to Octavius. The brilliant scientist looked between them and Spider-Man bewilderedly, his mouth hanging agape.

“I…” he began, rolling the hero’s head to the side. An ugly gash marred his left cheek; dried blood was smeared all the way to his hairline. “I don’t…understand.”

Spider-Man had the soft, innocent face of a child. It was the kind of face grandmas couldn’t resist pinching and puppies just had to lick. His hair was a wild mess of brown curls that was sticking up all funny because of how long he’d been wearing his mask. He severely lacked the sharp, signature features that defined man from boy. Hell, he even had acne: tiny constellations of it dotted across his chin and forehead. No way was he considered a legal adult by the state of New York yet.

Spider-Man was no man at all. Spider-Man was, in fact, a Spider-Kid.

Otto lifted his eyes to the others. He didn’t know what to say.

“It’s not him,” Scorpion suggested.

Sandman scoffed. “What do you mean, ‘it’s not him’?”

“Maybe this isn’t Spider-Man,” he said. “Maybe the real Spider-Man sent a double. Someone to stand in his place while he’s busy or whatever to keep us at bay.”

“Spider-Man’s despicable if he’s sending some kid to fight his battles for him. Doesn’t sound like his style.”

“I don’t know! I’m just brainstorming here! I mean, you saw how pathetic he was today. Spider-Man normally puts up a better fight than that.”

“Yeah,” Electro said nervously. “Maybe it’s not him.”

“He was sticking to things and shooting webs and mouthing off just like the real Spider-Man always does,” Shocker retorted. “I’m pretty sure this is him.”

“Silence!” Octavius shouted, holding up his fist. He turned to the large screen on his right. “Computer, run biological and forensic diagnostics on Spider-Man.”

A series of beams and lasers scanned across the hero, gathering and analyzing information. About a minute later, a robotic voice spoke up.

“Facial and DNA match confirmed,” the A.I. replied. “Subject is Peter Benjamin Parker. Born to parents Richard and Mary Parker on August 10th, 2001. Age: fifteen. Address: 42-42 80th St, Queens, NY 11373. Current occupation: Intern at Stark Industries and sophomore high school student at Midtown School of Science and Technology.”

Stinging disbelief pricked all of them. Rhino’s jaw fell.

“Fifteen?”

“Sophomore?”

“High school?”

It was strange to finally be able to put a name and face to someone they had all known only as a masked caricature for so long. Peter Parker. Peter. And yet, the face still had everyone reeling to the point that the name hardly registered. Otto slammed a metal arm against the table.

“Shut up, all of you!” he spat. “Computer, relay back all the biological data you’ve gathered on Spider-Man.”

“Confirmed,” the A.I. said. “Subject’s current heart rate is 52 bpm. Subject’s current blood pressure is the 79mmHg. Subject’s current temperature is 105.8 degrees Fahrenheit.”

“None of those sound normal,” Sandman said with a snort.

“Relay DNA findings,” Doc Oc barked impatiently.

“Confirmed. Subject’s DNA is mutated and abnormal. Subject’s blood emits low levels of gamma radiation. Subject’s genome is human combined with an unidentifiable species of arachnid.”

Everyone’s eyes snapped up at once. The realization drizzled over them like baleful mist.

“Oh my god,” Sandman breathed. “It’s him.”

“You mean he’s actually part spider? Gag!”

With a scoff, Electro stepped away from the table, cupping his hands against the back of his neck. “You’re kidding me. You’re shitting me. You’re telling me this is the person I’ve been trying to kill this whole time? This is the guy I’ve been frying like a mozzarella stick?” He kicked a trash bin across the room. “Dammit! I do a lot of bad things, but I’d never knowingly hurt a child!”

“Spider-Man is just some fifteen-year-old high school brat?” Rhino said, pouting his lip. “Geez. I can’t believe we just beat the shit out of some kid.”

“Spider-Man is not just some kid!” Otto roared. “Who cares about his age! Have you all suddenly forgotten how much this bastard has antagonized every last one of us? How he’s foiled our plans and ruined our lives again and again for the past two years?”

Sandman pressed the heels of his hands to his temples. “Oh my god. Does that mean I’ve been beating him up since he was fourteen? My niece is three years older than him, and I can’t imagine putting her through what I’ve done to him!” He squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head. “What kind of monster am I...?”

“I broke his damn leg,” Shocker said distraughtly. “And I enjoyed it.”

“Hell, guys…this is so messed up…”

Five members of the Sinister Six stewed in a sauna of shame and guilt. Octavius refused to join them.

“You spineless morons! All of you! Our enemy lays defeated in front of us, yet you choose to wallow in remorse! We should be celebrating! Nothing has changed! He’s young—so what? That doesn’t undermine all the frustration he’s caused us, or our glorious victory over him! Come on, now! Raise your glasses with me! To the Sinister Six! Guys...?”

Nothing he said could wipe the queasy looks off all their faces, or the guilty stickiness he felt in his own gut. Everything—all of this—it just felt wrong.

Sandman stood over Spider-Man and gingerly placed his hand against his forehead. It was startlingly hot and damp with sweat. “Computer, why is Spider-Man’s temperature so damn high? What’s the cause?”

A couple seconds later, the A.I. pinged. “Confirmed,” it said. “Subject has a norovirus infection. It appears subject has been infected for at least twenty-four hours. Norovirus is commonly diagnosed as gastroenteritis or the stomach flu. Symptoms include fever, cramps, dizziness, lightheadedness, and nausea.”

A groan swept through the room. Scorpion crossed his arms against the table and buried his head between them.

“He’s sick. That’s why he seemed so sluggish and off during the fight. Because we were beating up a sick kid.”

“Shit. Last time I had the stomach flu, I didn’t leave my bed for two days. He really thought he could take us on in his condition?”

“Not like we really gave him a choice,” Shocker murmured.

“The little punk probably didn’t even think twice about it,” Sandman said miserably. “After all, his dumbass adolescent brain is still developing.”

Rhino sulked. “Yeah, as long as we didn’t permanently damage it...”

The Sinister Six fell into a dreadful silence.

At that moment, Spider-Man coughed. The group jumped and gasped, automatically assuming defensive positions with their fists raised, weapons drawn, and muscles coiled.

Spider-Man coughed again, his head lolling to the left, but he didn’t wake up. A collective sigh passed everyone’s lips. Electro went lax, his hands falling to his sides.

“So…um…what the hell do we do now?”

Scorpion frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

“Like, what do we do? We have him here, beat to a pulp. What are we going to do with him?”

For the first time, Spider-Man was at the complete mercy of his most powerful enemies. And for the first time, none of them wanted to chop off his head and impale it on a spike.

Sandman gazed across the bruises on his face, the road burn striped across his limbs, the bloody puncture wound in his chest. His swollen leg, his black eye, the charred fabric and flesh. He hadn’t allowed himself to take all the damage in for what it was until now. A truly abominable and grisly sight.

“He won’t survive long if we just leave him like this,” he said quietly.

Again, all eyes rose to Dr. Octopus. Otto grimaced between their pitiful looks, their reluctantly pleading stares. Pathetic! he wanted to shout, but he couldn’t find the will to conjure the word—any words.

Soon enough, he felt his own callous facade melting away. He sighed.

“I…I suppose keeping him alive is in our best interest. For now.” He cleared his throat and pulled the goggles off his face. “I’ll clean and treat his injuries as best I can. At least to the point that they’re not life-threatening.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Go—get some rest, all of you. We’ll, uh—we’ll regroup in the morning.”

The Sinister Six exchanged nervous looks with each other, then turned back to the face of the half-dead fifteen-year-old in front of them. Hesitantly, they filed out of the room and up the stairs, shooting a couple anxious glances over their shoulders before climbing out of sight.

The room was eerily quiet now that it was just the two of them. An evil scientist and an unconscious super-child in spandex. The only noises were the beeps from the monitor on his right and the kid’s shaky, labored breathing.

“You’re really something, you know that?” Octavius scoffed. “Of course, now that we’ve finally bested you, this is what we end up with. This is what you are.”

With a thought, the claws at the end of one of his tentacles reconfigured into large shears. The material that made up Spider-Man’s suit was tough, but with a few strategic cuts and snips, Doc was able to tear through and peel the clingy fabric off his body. Now that he was stripped down to nothing but his boxers (which had tiny cartoon Iron Men on them, a sight that made him snort, despite his efforts not to) the devastating harm they’d inflicted upon him was painfully evident. The ratio of undamaged flesh to damaged flesh was sickeningly skewed toward the latter. There was so much to tend to, he wasn’t sure where to start. And it wasn’t like his doctorate had been in medical care.

“We really did a number on you, didn’t we Spider-Man?” Otto murmured. He looked back at the screen. “I mean…Peter. Peter Parker.”

The name felt salty on his tongue. He didn’t like how it humanized him, transforming the famous vigilante from vexing public figure to baby-faced teenager. He’d always dreamt of unmasking the scourge that was the elusive Spider-Man. Now he wished the day had never come.

He left Peter’s side to grab the medical kit from under the sink. Then he got to work, undoing the damage they had reaped.

___________________________________

“Computer, summarize what you’ve gathered on Peter Parker’s personal life.”

Roughly four hours later, Octavius flopped into a chair by the kid’s side, exhausted. He had treated all the wounds he had the capacity to treat, hooked him to an I.V. full of fluids and electrolytes, and was now monitoring his steadily improving vitals. The kid was a suture-filled, burn cream-lathered, bandaged-up mess, but at least he was on the mend instead of his death bed. Seemed like a good time to take a break and do some research on the person behind their friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

“Confirmed,” the A.I. responded. “Compiling personal file.”

A slide with pictures and lists regarding Peter’s life materialized on the screen.

“Peter Parker was born in Queens, New York and still lives there today. He lived in a house in Forest Hills until 2005, then moved into the apartment complex he currently lives in now.”

“A house in New York City?” Otto scoffed. “How lavish. Why the downsize?”

The A.I. enlarged a photograph—a man and a woman holding a bright-eyed, squishy-faced toddler sporting a familiar headful of brown curls.

“Peter’s biological parents, Mary and Richard Parker, died in a plane crash in March of that year.”

A knot formed in Otto’s gut as he stared at the happy family portrait. “Oh,” he said.

“Orphaned at age four, Peter was then adopted by his aunt and uncle, May and Ben Parker. They couldn’t afford to live in the house in Forest Hills, so they moved Peter into their apartment nearby.”

Another picture floated up, this one of a different couple hugging a slightly older version of the curly-haired toddler. After that, a series of images flashed across the screen—young Peter at Central Park, at a science fair, at the zoo, at home, on the subway, on the Brooklyn Bridge, passed out on a couch. With each new picture, he got bigger, older, but not by much. Sometimes his aunt and uncle were with him. Sometimes he was with others his age. Sometimes he had on glasses as thick as windshields. His smile was wide as the sun and just as bright.

In the last picture, he was standing next to Tony Stark, holding an upside-down certificate congratulating him on his acceptance as a Stark Industry’s intern.

“Barf,” Otto muttered, but he couldn’t displace the warm, uneasy feeling he got when he looked at Peter’s smiling face. He really was just a kid. A young, dorky, stupid kid. A kid they’d beat into the dirt ten times over.

“Last year, May Parker became Peter’s sole guardian.”

Octavius blinked, his shoulders tensing. “What happened to the uncle? Ben Parker?”

“Ben Parker was murdered last April by an unknown shooter. The culprit was never caught.”

Octavius swallowed, staring at the photograph of Spider-Man’s uncle. Then he turned back to the mummified teenager on the table beside him. For an instant, something he never thought he could feel for the spider-themed superhero brushed his heart.

Sympathy.

With a huff, Otto stood from his chair. “Come along then, arachnid,” he said, lifting the kid and the I.V. stand in his metal arms. “Let’s find you a more comfortable spot to rest.”

It was well past 4am by the time Octavius slumped into his own bed.

#spiderman #spider-man #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman homecoming #Spider-Man: Homecoming #spider-man: far from home #spiderman ffh #avengers #mcu #marvel #sick fic #peter parker

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wiypt-writes · 4 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch37: Fourteen Million, Six Hundred And Five Part 1- Wakanda Forever.

Intro: Thor, Rocker and Groot arrive on Nidevallir and the god quickly realises something is wrong. Meanwhile, on Titan, Tony is trying desperately to rally the rest of the Guardians into some sort of organised unit, whilst in Wakanda it isn’t the organisation that the rest of the Avengers is having issues with…

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: So I HAD to write Thor and Tony’s POV over the IW chaptres too, because, frankly, they had some of THE best scenes in Infinity War, and I love that freaking Norse God Himbo and chaotic Stark chemistry so bad! I know this is Katie and Steve’s fic, but Steve had so little screen time in this film all things considered…we were so robbed!!! @angrybirdcr once again, beautiful editing!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 36 Part 2

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Oh how Thor missed his hammer! How had it all gone so terribly wrong? He’d left Earth and his friends three years ago to go hunting those wretched stones and had failed, miserably. Now his Father was dead, his brother was dead, Heimdel was dead, half his people were dead. His home planet was gone, he only had one eye, and if he didn’t stop Thanos then his friends on Earth weren’t going to fare much better than the ones on Asgard had.

He chewed the inside of his cheek, his left knee jiggling a little bit with nervous anticipation as his mind flickered to Little Stark and the Captain. He wondered how they’d been getting on, how the few years post their marriage had been for them, whether there were any Little Little Starks or Little Caps roaming around…

“So, dead brother, huh?” Thor looked up to see the rabbit was stood a few feet away, pressing buttons on a screen as he spoke. “Yeah that can be annoying.”

“Well, he’s been dead before.” Thor huffed. "But this time, I think it really might be true.”

“And you said that your sister and your dad…”

“Both dead."

"You guys still got a mom, though?” The Rabbit pressed.

“Killed by a dark elf.” Thor replied, monotonously.

“Best friend?”

“Stabbed through the heart.”

“And you sure you’re up for this particular murder mission?” Rocket asked, frowning slightly.

“Absolutely!” Thor forced a smile, as he looked at the animal “Rage and vengeance, anger, loss, regret. They’re all tremendous motivators. They really clear the mind. So I’m err, good to go.” He nodded firmly, making a fist.

"Yeah, but this is Thanos we’re talking about he’s the toughest there is.”

“Well, he’s never fought me.” Thor deadpanned.

“Yeah, he has.” Rocket shrugged, and Thor took a deep breath.

“Well, he’s never fought me twice. And I’ll be getting a new hammer, don’t forget.”

“Well, it’d better be some hammer.”

There was a pause before Thor took a breath.

“You know, I’m fifteen hundred years old,” he began, looking at nothing in particular as he pondered over things. "I’ve killed twice as many enemies and every enemy I have faced would have rather killed me, but none succeeded. I am only still alive because fate wants me to be.” At that point he paused and couldn’t help but smile at a conversation he had had with the Captain about fate bringing him and Little Stark together. The Captain didn’t believe in fate, but he did. "Thanos is just the latest in a long line of bastards, and he’ll be the latest to feel my vengeance.” Thor nodded firmly as he concluded. “Fate wills it so."

"Mhm.” Rocket hummed hesitating, but he knew he had to ask, “And what if you’re wrong?”

“Well if I’m wrong, what else could I lose?” Thor sniffed, and wiped at the tear that had escaped from his eye before he headed to the front of the pod to take a seat.

“Well, if fate does want you to kill that crap-sack, you’re gonna need more than one stupid eyeball.” Rocket held out his paw as he headed to the seat in front of Thor.

“What’s this?” Thor frowned, eyeing the object that the rabbit had given him.

“What’s it look like? Some jerk lost a bet with me in Contraxia.”

“He gave you his eye in return?” Thor frowned.

“No, he gave me a hundred credits. I snuck into his room later that night and stole his eye.”

“Thank you, sweet rabbit.” Thor smiled, pulling the patch off of his left eye to push the eyeball into the socket.

Rocket grimaced. “Ooh, errr, I would’ve washed that before, erm…” He swallowed and shook his head. “The only way I could sneak it off Contraxia was up my-” He was cut off as an alarm started. “Hey we’re here.”

Thor frowned as he stood up to get a closer look out of the front of the pod. “I don’t think this thing works,” he slapped at the side of his head, his new eye spinning in the socket. “Everything seems dark.”

“That’s not the eye.” Rocket took a deep breath as they all stared out of the cockpit at the black sky and surrounding area in space.

They docked and slowly made their way off the pod and carefully made their walked across the dark terrain of the planet.

“I hope these dwarves are better at forging than they are at cleaning.” Rocket looked around at the junk that lay all over the place as Thor glanced over the deserted area, a puzzled expression on his face. “Hey, maybe they realized they live in a junk pile in the middle of space.”

"The forge hasn’t gone dark in centuries.” Thor shook his head. No, he could feel it. Something was very, very wrong.

“You said Thanos had a gauntlet, right?” Rocket stopped walking.

“Yes. Why?” Thor asked, searching the sky. For what he didn’t know.

“Did it look anything like that?”

Thor turned and looked over to where Rocket was pointing and his blood ran cold as he saw, sitting upon one of the stone tables, a mould for the gauntlet Thanos was wearing when he attacked his ship. Suddenly, realisation washed over him.

Thanos had been here. And that wasn’t good. At all. In fact it was about as far from good as anything could be.

“I am Groot?”

“Go back to the pod.” Thor commanded before something struck him hard and he went flying through the air as Rocket and Groot scattered in the opposite direction.

Thor pushed himself up, and turning round, he saw the large mass coming towards him. Scrambling backwards he fell against something, hard and held his hands up, palms open in a placating manner.

“Eitri, wait!” He called loudly. “Stop! It’s me!”

"Thor?” The Dwarf paused, fist still raised as Thor gave a node. “Is that you?”

There was a pause and the Dwarf dropped his hand slightly. Thor swallowed and looked up at him, taking a deep breath. “What happened here?” The god asked.

“You were supposed to protect us!” the Dwarf cried, his voice cracking “Asgard was supposed to protect us!”

“Asgard is destroyed,” Thor choked out, getting to his feet. He pointed to the gauntlet on the table. “Eitri the glove, what did you do?”

Eitri let out a shuddering breath as he stumbling over to a wall and fell heavily upon it, sliding down to the floor. “Three hundred dwarves lived on this ring. I thought if I did what he asked, they’d be safe. I made what he wanted. A device capable of harnessing the power of the stones. And he killed everyone anyway. All except me. ‘Your life is yours,’ he said. 'But your hands…your hands are mine alone.’” With that the dwarf raised both his hands and Thor felt his eyes widen as he saw they were covered in in metal from the forge.

Thor paused, but then he shook his head. No, this wouldn’t do. He needed a new hammer. There had to be a way.

Even in the word can’t there’s the word can…

Little Stark’s voice echoed in his head, a line he had heard her say once to Barton just before the archer had thrown a pop tart at her head. Man he would kill for a pop tart right now.

But no, she was right. He wasn’t giving up

“Eitri, this isn’t about your hands”. Thor shook his head. “Every weapon you’ve ever designed, every axe, hammer, sword it’s all inside your head. Now I know it feels like all hope is lost. Trust me, I know. But together, we can kill Thanos.”

***** Tony, Peter and Dr Strange had arrived on Titan. But they were greeted with a not-so-welcoming party. After a bit of a struggle, Tony had some blue faced dude on his back, repulsor raised whilst one of the other guys had Parker in a headlock, gun pointed at his head. As they faced off against each other, the man pointing the gun at Peter spoke.

“Alright, everybody, stay where you are, chill the eff out.” His helmet disappeared to reveal a dark haired man, his eyes darted across the three of them. “I’m gonna ask you this one time. Where’s Gamora?” What the fuck?

Tony gave a groan of exasperation as he removed his helmet and looked at the man. “Yeah, I’ll do you one better. Who’s Gamora?” “I’ll do you one better!” The man under Tony’s foot spoke “Why is Gamora?”

”Tell me where the girl is, or I swear to you, I’m gonna French-fry this little freak.” The man tightened his hand on Parker and Tony felt his temper snap.

“Let’s do it! You shoot my guy, I blast him. Let’s go!” He yelled, extended his nano-tech cannon and pointing it straight at the guys face.

“Do it, Quill! I can take it.” The man snarled at him.

Jesus Christ it was like arguing with Rogers.

“No, he can’t take it!” The woman with the strange antennae insisted.

“She’s right. You can't.” Dr Strange but in, completely deadpan, his tone bored.

“Oh yeah? You don’t wanna tell me where she is? That’s fine. I’ll kill all three of you and beat it out of Thanos myself.” The man they now knew to be Quill glanced at Parker. “Starting with you.”

“Wait, what. Thanos?” Before Tony could say anything, Strange beat him to it. “Alright, let me ask you this one time, what master do you serve?”

”What master do I serve?” Quill looked at him, sarcasm dripping from his voice and body language. “What am I supposed to say, Jesus?”

“You’re from Earth?” Tony looked at him, suddenly cottoning on.

“I’m not from Earth. I’m from Missouri”

“Yeah, that’s on Earth, dip-shit.” Tony spat, with the tone of someone talking to a very, very stupid person, which in all fairness he appeared to be doing. “What are you hassling us for?”

“So, you’re not with Thanos?” Parker spoke for the first time.

“WITH Thanos?!” Quill scoffed indignantly “No, I’m here to kill Thanos! He took my girl. Wait… who are you?”

“We’re the Avengers, man.” Parker remoeved his helmet and mask.

“Oh” Quill relaxed his hold a little.

“You’re the ones Thor told us about!” The bug looking woman exclaimed excitedly.

“You know Thor?” Tony whipped round to face her, barely keeping the excitement out of his voice. They could use Point Break, man could they use him!

“Yeah. Tall guy, not that good-looking,” Quill sniffed as Parker gave him an incredulous look, “needed saving.”

Dr Strange paused before he asked the question Tony was dying to know the answer to. “Where is he now?”

“Took my pod, my food, my rucksack and went off to find a new hammer to kill Thanos with.” Quill shrugged as he released Parker completely. Dr Strange and Tony exchanged a crestfallen look. It didn’t appear like they were going to get any help from Thor where they were but maybe, just maybe, the rest of the Avengers would.

As they were now allies of sorts, the group all introduced themselves properly and Quill began to walk around the ground, holding out some kind of scanner, or spirit measure, Tony wasn’t sure which.

“What the heck happened to this planet? Its eight degrees off its axis.” He muttered “Gravitational pull is all over the place.”

In the background Mantis was jumping up and down, floating higher than she should have been able to, almost as if she was jumping on some trampoline. Tony watched her for a second before an idea formed in his mind.

“Yeah, we got one advantage. He’s coming to us. We’ll use it.” He said, firmly. “All right, I have a plan” he looked round at the group, “or at least the beginnings of one. It’s pretty simple. We draw him in, pin him down, get what we need. Definitely don’t wanna dance with this guy. We just want the gauntlet.”

At that Drax gave a loud yawn and Tony glared at him.

“Are you yawning? In the middle of this, while I’m breaking it down? Huh? Did you hear what I said?”

“I stopped listening after you said we need a plan.” Drax shrugged honestly

“Okay, Mr. Clean is on his own page.” Tony looked at Quill for help.

“See, not winging it, isn’t really what they do” Quill pulled a face, almost apologetically.

“Uh, what exactly is it that they do?” Parker asked.

“Kick names, take ass.” Mantis replied with all the ferocity of an eight week old kitten.

“Yeah, that’s right” Drax nodded as he settled into a stance, facing the remaining Avengers.

Right there Tony took it all back. This was nothing like trying to deal with Rogers.

Cap was a stubborn son-of-a-bitch, but he was smart. He would listen and would get them to listen too. As Tony paused, for the first time in ages actually wishing Rogers was in front of him, an expression of deep hopelessness crossed his face before he spoke again “Alright, just get over here, please. Mr. Lord, can you get your folks to circle up?”

“Mr. Lord, Star-Lord is fine.” Quill motioned to Drax and Mantis to come and listen.

“We gotta coalesce.” Tony tried again in a softer voice. “ Cause if all we come at him with is a plucky attitude…”

“Dude, don’t call us plucky. We don’t know what it means.” Quill shook his head, and internally Tony died a little more. Alright, we’re optimistic, yes. I like your plan. Except it sucks, so let me do the plan, and that way it might be really good.”

“Tell him about the dance-off to save the universe.” Drax interjected.

“What dance-off?” Tony frowned.

“It’s not a… it’s not… it’s nothing” Quill shook his head.

“Like in Footloose, the movie?” Parker interjected.

“Exactly like Footloose!” Quill looked at him excitedly “Is it still the greatest movie in history?

“It never was.”

“Don’t encourage this, alright?” Tony rounded on the kid as Quill wore an expression that looked like the wind had been completely sucked out of his sails. “We’re getting no help from Flash Gordon here”.

“Flash Gordon? By the way, that’s a compliment. Don’t forget, I’m half human” Quill pointed at Tony and Peter “So that fifty-percent of me that’s stupid? That’s a hundred-percent you.”

“Your math is blowing my mind.” Tony deadpanned.

“Excuse me, but…” Mantis spoke, and Tony looked at her, before his attention was taken by Strange and he frowned again. “Does your friend often do that?

The Wizard was sitting cross-legged, floating slightly above the ground, his hands poised in a mystic gesture with the Time Stone glowing brightly in the pendant round his neck. Green vapour like energy swirled around him, his cloak billowing behind, as if caught on a breeze. His head was jerking rapidly from side to side, the motion blurring, but almost like he was looking for something.

Tony stepped towards him “Strange! We alright?”

Suddenly, Strange snapped out of his trance and fell forward, letting out a cry. Tony gently caught him.

“You’re back. You’re alright”

“Hey, what was that?” Parker asked.

“I went forward in time to view alternate futures,” Strange panted slightly as he caught his breath, looking at Tony, eyes wide, “to see all the possible outcomes of the coming conflict.

“How many did you see?” Quill asked

“Fourteen million, six hundred and five.”

Tony wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to the next question, but he asked it anyway. “How many did we win?

There was a pregnant pause as Dr Strange stared intently at him for a moment before he took a deep breath and looked Tony straight in the eyes. “One.”

*****

"How are we looking, Bruce?” Natasha spoke nto the coms device glancing back over her shoulder, prompting Katie to do the same, where she could see Bruce running behind the hovercrafts in the giant Hulk buster suit. He’d been unable to get the Hulk to come out, sheepishly explaining they were having issues, so Steve had suggested calmly as everyone else had almost had a meltdown, that this was the next best thing.

“Yeah, I think I’m getting the hang of it,” Bruce responded sounding excited, “it’s so amazing! Man it’s like being the Hulk without actually…” He was cut off as he tripped over a piece of rock jutting out of the ground and crashed to the floor. Katie sighed and turned her attention back out across the vast Wakandan land.

“I’m ok. I’m ok!”

“Steve,” Katie swallowed, catching her husband’s attention. He turned to look at her over his shoulder, but she found she didn’t really know what she wanted to say. She was worried, scared, underprepared.

“I know.” Steve responded with a soft voice, instantly understanding her, he always did. He reached round to pull her to him, his left arm over her shoulder, trying to lend her some comfort as they continued their journey, the wind whipping their hair as they sped across the planes.

Eventually the hovercrafts began to slow before they came to a stop, the Wakandan warriors easily jumping off the side of the craft and falling into line. Steve hopped down, turning to Katie, both his hands on her waist as she jumped and he lifted her down, her feet landing on the dry, brown grass of the Serengeti that stretched for miles around them.

"Alright I’ve got two heat signatures breaking through the treeline.” Rhodey informed from high above. Instantly, Steve and Katie’s eyes flew upwards to watch him zooming overhead as T'Challa in his panther suit led them all to the centremost group where the Wakandans had started up a war chant.

“Thank you for standing with us.” The king spoke to a large man dressed in furs getting his own block ready for battle. The man said something in their language shaking T'Challa’s hand, before the king looked back at the barrier and the ships surrounding it and then turned to Steve who nodded. Katie took a deep breath and pressed the star on her bangle. The nano-particles spread up her arm, across her chest and down, encasing her completely in her suit.

Steve’s eyebrow raised at the action. “So that’s new.” He quipped, a sideways smile spreading across his face and Katie shrugged.

“Nano-tech, apparently.” She engaged her helmet and began running her scanners. “I can’t get a lock on what’s in those ships though.”

“Well, let’s go find out.” Steve suggested gently, and along with Natasha and T’Challa, they headed to the edge of the dome. The tall, blue haired woman they had grappled with in Edinburgh was there with a huge beast they hadn’t seen before, one of the ones that had attacked New York. As they watched, she drew her sword across the force field which fizzled as she tested the strength, cocking her head to the side.

“Where’s your other friend?” Katie asked her and Steve almost rolled his eyes at her deliberate dig. The woman glared at her.

“You will pay for his life with yours. Thanos will have that stone.”

“That’s not gonna happen.” Steve’s voice remained even, not a threat as such, simply a statement, as he raised his chin and looked her straight in the face.

T’Challa, however, was much more aggressive as he spoke and Katie looked at him, surprised by the normally mild mannered man’s fierce tone.

“You are in Wakanda now.” He glared at their foes. “Thanos will have nothing but dust and blood.”

“We have blood to spare.” The Woman smirked a little as she brandished her sword with a snarl. Behind her, the ships started raising their outer hulls.

Knowing that was about as much a conversation as they were getting, and as much of one as he wanted, Steve gestured with his head and the four of them made their way back. Steve made sure Katie and Natasha were in front of him, just in case, and every so often he threw a glance over his shoulder as the ships continued to open.

“They surrender?” Bucky asked as Steve took up his place at his best friend’s side, Katie falling in line to Steve’s right.

“Not exactly.” Steve huffed.

Katie glanced round Steve over to Bucky and nodded to the gun in his hand “Sure you can handle that, sweetheart?”

Steve let out a snort and his mouth curved into a grin as he recalled Bucky saying the same thing to her almost two years previously. Bucky gave a bark of a laugh and winked at Katie who raised an eyebrow, smirking. Then the three of them turned their attention back to the edge of the dome and, as they watched, a horde of what looked like mutated dogs rushed through the trees and foliage, heading straight for the barrier.

T'Challa began to chant with his army, repeating the war-cry loudly, as the blue horned woman thrust her sword down and the creatures rushed forward smashing themselves into the barrier without care.

“What the hell?” Bucky muttered watching the creatures try to force themselves in, but every limb and body part that passed through the field ended up being cut off.

“Looks like we pissed her off.” Nat pointed out.

“Just a little.” Katie turned her head to look at her.

Steve remained still, observing, sizing up his opponent as ever, not flinching an inch even when he spotted that some of the creatures managed to get halfway through before they were cut in half.

“They’re killing themselves.” Okoye breathed in shock as the creatures carried on.

The front line of the blocks of warriors quickly raised their shields when they noticed a small handful of the creatures had actually managed to get through, their badly burnt bodies cantering across the plains towards them. With a command from T'Challa the army began firing weapons at a few that drew near.

“Honey.” Steve turned to Katie, taking a deep breath. He didn’t want her to leave his side but they needed all the fire power they had. With a nod, and a quick squeeze of his hand, she engaged her helmet and launched herself into the air.

She drew up alongside Sam, who turned his head to grin at her as she sped alongside him. Despite the situation, she couldn’t help but put herself into a little twirl, allowing the euphoria at being up there again, fully suited after so long, to take her away for a moment. But then, it was down to business and the two of them began to work in tandem, dropping missiles and bombs at the stragglers.

“You see the teeth on those things?” Sam’s astonished voice said

“Alright, Kiddo, let’s go. Back up, Sammy,” Rhodey warned, as he flew along the edge of the dome, dropping more bombs on the creatures that were still partially getting through, “you’ll get your wings singed.”

Katie surged forward, taking the opposite side of the dome, engaging her shoulder cannons, blasting away the ones underneath, but then FRIDAY locked onto some of the creatures on either end of the swarm who had begun to make their way further from the main pile running along the outside of the barrier that circled the city.

“They’re spreading out!” Katie called in warning.

“Cap, if these things circle the perimeter and get in behind us,” Bruce echoed, “there’s nothing between them and Vision.”

“Then we better keep them in front of us.” Steve responded calmly, his gaze not once faltering as he simply watched the edge of the dome.

“How do we do that?” Okoye scoffed.

“We open the barrier,” T’Challa replied with resolve. Steve turned to look at him, taking a deep breath. “On my signal, open Northwest Section Seventeen.”

“Requesting confirmation my king…you said open the barrier?”

“On my signal.” He confirmed his instructions.

Steve lifted his arms, engaging the shields that T’Challa had given him, as Sam and Katie continued to circle high up, shooting a few more strays before they flew over the assembled troops, hovering and waiting for the command.

T’Challa stepped forward before the armies, crossing his arms before his chest. “Wakanda forever!” he cried out.

“Wakanda forever!” was the answering shout from his people before they all took off running for the barrier.

“NOW!” T'Challa shouted into his communicator, and a small portion of the barrier opened, allowing the creatures to spill.

Steve ran with T’challa, the pair of them forging ahead of the running army at super speed as they sprinted in unison. Upon reaching a shallow stream, they both launched themselves up and over, propelling themselves at the creatures and from there the battle was on.

Katie was swooping, shooting, diving, taking out as many of the creatures as she could. The weapons upgrades Tony had made were amazing-she had the ability to turn her gauntlet into a sword of sorts, she had a shield, guns…you name it and FRIDAY was on hand to remind her exactly what she had and automatically use them when needed. All in all, it was the best Supernova suit her brother had ever developed, and she felt hopeful that his latest Iron Man one would be good enough to keep him safe wherever he was.

Steve, meanwhile, was hammering the pointed end of his shields into any of the creatures that came near enough. Bucky was gunning down those that came towards him, the Wakandan Warriors were using their spears and guns. The animals weren’t hard to take down, a decent hook or shot to the head did it, but they were persistent and there was so damned many of them…

“How much longer, Shuri?” T'Challa’s voice rang in Steve’s ear as he kicked another one of the animals straight in the mouth sending it flying.

“We’ve barely begun, brother!”

“You might want to pick up the pace!” T’Challa urged.

“Please do…” Steve found himself muttering as he pounded another of the creatures, feeling its scull crush beneath his knuckles.

*****

Thor had managed to get the Forge started again, using the pod and a large rope to pull the stuck rings into a spin, but then the iris had snapped, leaving nothing for it. He had to open it himself.

“All-fathers, give me strength.” He mumbled as he rolled his shoulders preparing to grab either side of the iris.

“You understand, boy?” Eitri warned. “You’re about to take the full force of a star. It’ll kill you.”

“Only if I die.” Thor cracked his neck as he took a deep breath. He had to survive, fate willed it, he was going to kill Thanos.

”Yes. That’s what…killing you means.” Eitri frowned, utterly boggled at Thor’s words.

Thor pulled down on the two levers, bringing them towards him and the iris began to open. The stream of pure, stellar energy blasted past him and into the forge once more. Thor grit his teeth as the force of the full beam of the star burned through him, like nothing he had ever felt before.

“Hold it! Hold it, Thor!”

The metal ingots began to melt and Thor let out a yell as he felt his skin burning, until he could hold it no more and his grip slipped. He fell down into the forge, bouncing limply off a structure and landing on the floor, harshly as Rocket, who had followed in the pod, grimaced. The thud Thor’s body made as it landed was enough to make Groot look up from his game.

“Thor! Say something. Come on. Thor, you okay?” Rocket asked, looking at the god who appeared as far from okay as you could get.

Eitri was clumsily and urgently pulling the mould, which was still glowing red hot. onto the floor. He broke it loose from the frame, punching it with his metal fists to free the axe head.

“I think he’s dying!” Rocket stuttered, looking up urgently for help

“He needs the axe!” Eitri said, frantically “Where’s the handle? Tree, help me find the handle!”

As the two sides of the axe head lay glowing on the floor, Groot looked sadly at Thor, as Eitri was desperately searchin for the handle. Then, realising he could help, the tree scowled with determination and stood, extending his fingers towards the parts of the axe-head, growing them at extraordinary speed. As he twined them around the metal, he cried out at the burning pain but didn’t hesitate, slamming them together and locking them permanently into one structure by winding the growing vines around them. He raised it high above his head and, with a mighty cry, chopped his extended arm with the other hand to sever it.

Thor lay motionless, but then his fingers twitched, and the new weapon levitated in a crackle of lightning echoed by the sparks between the God’s fingers…

***** Chapter 37 Part 2

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #Katie Stark #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #mcu #mcu fanfic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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